#silly bouncy buns coming through!!

[geekedoutbunny]

Redson x human female reader Chapter 3 NSFW

Created by: Geekedoutbunny

Chapters: 1.., 2.., 3 NSFW, 4.., 5.., 6.. 7...

Master List

You along with the now newly reunited Bull Family, were all having your first proper family dinner together. The giant chair at the other end of the table now finally made sense. Princess Iron Fan was at the other end, while Demon Bull King was at the other. You and Redson sat in the middle, you were on the right side of the table while he sat across from you on the left.

You were all quietly chatting, catching Demon Bull King up to speed with all that’s been happening while he’s been gone. You mostly remained silent unless you were spoken to, as you couldn’t really add much to their lives that would catch him up to speed. You were still fairly new to the family yourself, but listening to the stories where fun.

Watching Redson, be so happy and full of life, brought a smile to your face, just seeing him being loud and bouncy was enough to make you slightly forgive him for trying to kill that kid a few months ago. Speaking of the kid, the Bull Family was still trying to come up with a plan to snatch the Monkie King’s Staff away from him.

Since the Demon Bull King keeps calling him a thief for stealing the staff from him, to begin with... Even though that staff didn’t belong to any one of them but the Monkie King, but hey, you were just here for the ride.

Dinner was eventually over, and everyone retried off to their own endeavors. You and Redson walked back to your shared room, once in the room, you sat on the chair in front of your vanity, taking off your jewelry and letting your hair down. You Placed your jewelry back where it belonged, you then picked up some makeup remover and a cotton round, and you cleaned the makeup off. While you were doing that, Redson was constantly talking about his newest project.

“This plan is going to be a JARRING SUCCESS!!!!” He shouted in excitement and happiness as he twirled around and faced you. You continued to wipe off the rest of your makeup, before you looked over at him, and gave him a supportive smile. “Yes, Red. I think that this time you’ll succeed in your plans. You’ll most defiantly get that staff.” You said in an encouraging voice. He gave you a happy and excited smile at your approval before he went back to his ranting.

“THAT’S RIGHT!!!! THIS TIME AROUND!!! I, REDSON!!!! WILL ACCOMPLISH IN STEALING THE STAFF FROM THAT PESTERING NOODLE BOY!!!” He yelled in victory as he threw his fists in the air, facing the window. You just shook your head and smiled at his silliness, while you put away the makeup remover and threw away the used cotton rounds, you got up to walk into the bathroom, walking past him while he continued his ranting.

You went into the bathroom, looking in the mirror you fluffed your hair out, getting it out of the major knot, before you reached down and you picked up your brush. Running in through your hair getting the knots out, before you put it up in a messy bun.

(If you have hair that’s far too short or non at all, then you do noting but head straight to the shower)

You then took off your clothes, walking over to the shower you turned it on, letting the water get warm before you decided to jump in and take a much needed shower. You were in the shower for a good 30 minutes, cleaning your skin, and using body scrub. Once done with the cleaning and scrubbing you began getting ready to shave, you squirted your lubricant (Whatever it was that you use) on your leg, you rubbed it in, picking up the shaver you were ready to shave, when the curtain was suddenly snatched.

You jumped and screamed in terror at the sudden pull, your arms coming up to protectively cover yourself, but you calmed down when you saw that it was just Redson. You placed your hand on your heart before you breathed out an annoying yet reviving sigh of relief. You then looked over at him with an annoyed glare. “What, Red?” You asked in a dead angered tone. He just gave you a manic smile, revealing that in his hand was a long rolled up sheet of paper. “I’ve finally perfected the plan, darling. We are one step ever closer, to WORLD DOMINATION!!!” He said in an excited voice, as he raised his fist holding the rolled up sheet.

You just simply glared at him. “You nearly scared me half to death, just to tell me that? You couldn’t of have waited until I was done?” You said in an annoyed yet disbelieving voice.

He just chuckled as he closed his eyes and placed his hands behind his back, slowly shaking his head. “No, no, no, Darling.” He started off in a condescending tone. You rolled your eyes, and slowly shook your head before you went back to shaving your leg. “For you see, dear.” He paused in his monologue, and he gently placed his hand up under your chin, making you look over at him.

“Success waits for no one.” He said in a low voice as he stared into your eyes. You just stared at him for a moment, before you smiled at him. He smiled back, before he pulled back and he whirled around. “With this plan, WE WILL RULE THE WORLD!!!” He exclaimed as he shot his fists into the air. You just chuckled at his excitement. He looked over at you with a curious glare. “What are you chuckling about back there?” He asked in a curious yet accusing voice.

You just looked over at him with an amusing yet loving stare. You stood up straight and turned towards him, you gently ran your hands over your hips. He relaxed his tense shoulders, as he observed you. You reached your hand out towards him, and he stepped forward and he grabbed your hand. “Come take a shower with me, Red. Relax some, you can plan and scheme later.” You said in a gentle voice, as you tried to pull him towards you.

He moved with the pull, as he observed your naked body. He then looked up at you, be for he looked off. “Dear, I have to continue to make plans, so that my father can-” He was cut off from his sentence when you placed your other hand on his cheek, bringing his focus back towards you. “Can rule the world, yes, yes, yes. But, you need to relax, come take a shower with me, and then maybe we can lay down too?” You suggested as your thumb caressed his cheek.

He just stared at you for a moment, before he looked down at his rolled up paper, he was pulled from his thoughts when you placed your hand under his chin, raising his head back up towards you. His eyes bounced between yours. You chuckled before you leaned towards him, resting your forehead against his. “Please, Red? Come relax with me?” You whispered. “My plans.” He said in an absent minded whisper. You shook your head. “Can wait.” You said, before you kissed him.

He hmmed, as he leaned into the kiss, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek before he let his hand slip on the back of your head. He slowly placed the rolled up sheet of paper on the toilet, his now free hand coming up to his buttons, slowly pulling them apart. Your hands joined him, aiding in removing his clothes. One by one his garments hit the floor, pooling around his feet.

He stepped into the shower, pulling back from the kiss, and you both smiled at one another, as he pulled the curtains, enclosing you both in the shower. He reached up and pulled his hair free from its tie, letting it fall down, the water making it heavy and straight. You admired his handsomeness. You always loved his hair down. You continued your make out session, his hands trailing over your back and your sides, making you shiver from the light touches.

While your hands traveled into his long hair, combing your fingers through his hair, making him slightly moan from the ministration. He pulled back from the kiss, trailing down to your neck, making you move your head to the side to give him more room to work. You sighed from the feeling, soaking up the pleasure of it all. His hand trailed up your side, reaching to cup your breast, his thumbs brushing over your nipple with a feather like touch.

You moaned at the touch, sensitive from the water hitting it earlier. His lips moved over your neck, gently sucking, looking for your sensitive spot, and once he found it, you gave a louder moan, causing him to smirk in accomplishment. Your hands trailed over his shoulders, as you wrapped them around his neck, to keep yourself from falling. He pulled, back and marveled at the mark he left behind, happy with his work, he then reaches his hands down towards your thighs, and he randomly hosted you up, making your scream from the sudden pull.

He chuckled at you, making you pull back and glare at him. “Now, now, now dear. No need for the harsh stare. Just trying to bring a little, excitement into our sex life is all.” He defended himself, as he smirked at you. You just rolled your eyes before you looked back down at him. “It won’t be so exciting once my brain is all over the shower.” You said, in an annoyed yet playful tone.

His eyes gleamed in a playful manner. “Oh, darling. You have no idea just how true those words are.” He said, in a suggestive tone. You arch your brow at him and were about to question him, but he suddenly slid himself into you, making you almost scream as you threw your head back.

He growled as he tightly held onto you, to keep you from falling. “We’ve done this a million times, and yet you still remain so deliciously tight.” He grunted out through his teeth as he held still. You just moaned as a reply, before you sat back up straight, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “That was a dirty trick.” You huffed out, and he gave you a vicious smirk. You brought one of your hands to the back of his head while your other arm stayed wrapped around his neck.

“But then again, I like it filthy.” You said, before you gave him a hungry kiss. You both groaned into the kiss, eating up one another tongues, before he suddenly slammed your back against the cold ceramic wall, making you give a muffled squeal. He chuckled, as he began to thrust his hips, causing you to throw your head back, making it hit the wall behind you.

He winced at the action, but he just continued his thrusting, while he began to attack your collarbone and your chest. Your moans were breathy and loud, your eyes closed tight, as you felt the pleasure coursing through you. Your hands desperately reaching for any part of him your nails digging into his shoulders made him give a throaty groan, as he latched onto your nipple, causing your back to arch.

“Red...” You moaned, as you grabbed onto his hair and shoulder, he hummed in reply, as he continued his ministrations. Lost in the feeling. He pulled off your nipple, and he let go with a 'pop' sound. He then looked up at you, he stare predatory almost as he glared at you.

He then, suddenly stopped thrusting, breaking you from your world, as you looked at him in confusion. However, you weren’t confused for much longer, before he placed you back down on your feet, and he spun you around. You placed your hands on the wall. Your legs spread as you moaned in anticipation, as you felt one of his hands caressing your cheeks, occasionally squeezing them.

He then leaned over you, his breath fanning over your ear. “Are you ready to ascend from grace?” He asked in a husky whisper, you smirked, the irony of his words hitting you in a ticklish way, “Yes, I’m ready to fall.” You said in a whisper. He smirked at your words, as he placed his hand over yours. “I knew I was right when I chose you.” He said, before he placed a soft kiss upon your shoulder.

You just smiled sweetly, happy at his words. You were pulled from your thoughts when he slowly pushed himself in once more, making you moan and place your head against the tiles. “I’m going to make you scream to the heavens. They’ll get to hear how far you’ve fallen from grace.” He said, as he thrust into you, your moans music to his ears as you gripped the wall.

His hands gripped your hips, as he pulled you back towards him. “They’ll hear your slutty moans, calling out the name of a demon, how joyous is that?” He growled in your ear, his hips thrusting more upwards, causing you to throw your head back against his shoulder as you yelled out his name, as he hit your g-spot. He smirked at the action, his chest swelling in pride as he found your secret spot that only he’ll be able to ever touch.

You began moaning in a whimpering voice, your end nearing, the building pressure behind your uterus made you woeful yet so excited. ‘Just a bit more...just a little bit more.’ You thought in desperation as you pushed back. He growled at the movement, his hand coming around your front, as he found your nub, his fingers pressing against it in harsh little circles.

Your knees bucked, and you threw your head back, as your walls came crashing down, and your world turned white. The feeling of warmness filling you as you leaned against him in a daze. The sound of his grunts and groans filled your ears as you felt the rapid motion of his hips thrusting into you. Before he slowed down to a stop. You both stood there huffing from your straining activity. He turned you both around, so that his back was pressed against the wall, and he hissed from the coldness of it.

He was always so sensitive to the cold, but he kept his back towards it, as he slowly slid down it taking you with him, he sat down and hissed once more from the cold floor, as he held you in his arms. You leaned back into him, sighing in contentment as the warm water sprayed over you. He sighed in relaxation. Before he leaned down and kissed your shoulder. “Thank you, Darling… I needed that.” He said in a low voice, as he rested his forehead on your shoulder. You silently nodded your head, as you slowly fell asleep surrounded by his warmth.

When you awoke, you were on your bed, dried and under the covers. Your head was resting on your pillow, you looked up and saw that Redson was asleep next to you. He was on his back, as he was out like a light, softly snoring away. You stared at him for a moment, happy to have gotten him to lay in bed with you. You adjusted yourself under the covers, you could feel that you were still naked, but you didn’t mind.

The room was dark, aside from the moonlight shining in through the window, casting shadows around your shared room. You slowly closed your eyes. ‘Getting some more shut eye sounds real good about now.’ You thought in contentment as you snuggled deeper into your shared blankets.

His rolled-up sheet of paper lay forgotten on his desk, the moonlight shining on it.

[shyghosties]

[dibs4ever]

Friends +extra

They were kissing in his bedroom. Which had progressed to making out, then touching over clothes. Next thing she knew she was in the position she was in now. Him leaning forward as she leaned back till she was laying on his bed and he was hovering over her. He started kissing down her neck. She let out a low moan. Encouraging him to continue. He lifted her shirt up over her head. His mouth immediately going to her breasts

This was only the 3rd time they’ve gone this far. The first being 2 weeks ago when they’d decided to lose their virginities to each other while Bruce and Alfred were both out of town. The second being 6 days ago when her dad was still at work. And the third well it seemed like that would be now. She'd snuck over, her dad and Bruce were at work. Alfred at the grocery store buying food for dinner tonight. Bruce was having the Commissioner and his daughter over for dinner, to discuss adding extra security around the cities orphanage. Being a concerned citizen was Bruce’s way of what he felt avoided any suspicions on him being Batman.

So far the teens summer before senior years and being friends with benefits for 8 weeks was going great.

She sighed, loving the feeling of his mouth on her lesser-seen skin.

He nuzzled his face between and breasts and she couldn’t help but giggle as she threaded her fingers through his hair “I never took you as a boob guy.”

He lifted his head to look at her. His bright blue eyes bearing into her green. His hair was a mess from her hands raking through it, he smirked at her from his slightly swollen lips she’d been sucking on only moments earlier. Butterflies filled her stomach the way he had started to look at her.

It was a feeling she was getting used to. Her best friend making her feel this good. How was it possible that her Dick Grayson. Her sweet, dorky best friend was making her feel like every inch of her body was on fire....in a good way.

“I’m a guy Babs. All guys are boob guys.” He winked. His eyes traveling downward

She smiled “I thought with me just being your friend I’d be the exception.”

He smiled at her rolling his eyes “If I said I’d never checked out your cleavage before all this I’d be lying. It’s not out of disrespect...It was just Ummm.”

She reached up stroking his hair, assuring him it was okay and that she wasn’t offended “Natural hormones?” She suggested

He chuckled leaning down and kissing her lips “Something like that.”

She hummed as she rolled over so that she was straddling him. Sitting up straight she began unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands down his newly formed abs. Something she thanked the puberty Gods for, at this point, she was the first and only lady to be able to appreciate them in their prime time.

He chuckled as he watched her admire them “And you checked out my muscles?”

Barbara shrugged “They are nice. “ she rolled her hips. Dick let out a grunt, throwing his head back against the pillow “But they aren’t what I check out the most. Ya know, what I checked out before this little....arrangement.”

He smirked, holding onto her hips now “And what is that?”

She grinned “Those nice buns of yours.” Barbara locked her thighs around him, she quickly rolled so he was on top of her and she could squeeze said buns with her hands.

Dick looked down at her seemingly astonished “My Butt?”

Barbara giggled, threading her fingers through his hair “Yup it’s just so...there. When you’re Robin your tight shorts squeezes them so nicely and it’s so bouncy. Honestly, I always have been tempted to touch it.”

Dick chuckled “That explains why you have these past couple of times.” He threaded his fingers through her hair leaning down for a kiss

He pulled back only slightly keeping his hand on the back of her head “If we are talking about things we admired most in the looks department before our arrangement wanna know mine?”

He could feel her smile against his lips “Thought we already established it was my boobs?”

He pulled back his eyes traveling downward then up again “They are fantastic.....and admirably I did check them out before this...but they aren't what I admired the most.”

She rose an eyebrow “Oh really? Well, do tell Mr.Grayson, what is it that you've always found attractive about me?”

He didn't respond. Instead, he dropped down, burying his head in the nape of her neck. Running both his hands through her hair

Barbara giggled, feeling his long eyelashes tickle her neck “That's not an answer Boy Wonder.”

He lifted his head sending her a smirk “Your hair silly. I love your gorgeous red hair.”

Barbara shifted under him, keeping her hands on his shoulders “Really? Most people aren’t a fan of red hair”

He nodded “Most people are dumb”

She giggled “Get over here” she pulled him back down to her

Later they lay side by side. Wild grins on both their faces

Dick was running small circles on Barbara’s back with his fingertips “Ya know when you come over tonight with your dad we have to act like we haven't seen each other all day.”

She giggled, cuddling deeper into his chest “It’s okay, I’m a good actress”

He gave her an inquisitive look “Not exactly the thing a guy wants to hear after what we just did Babs.”

Barbara rolled her eyes “Not with you doofus.” She swatted his chest before resuming her position and laying her head on it “With my dad obviously, I’ve been hiding Batgirl from him pretty well the past 2 years.”

Dick nodded, moving his hand away from her back so his arm was just slung around her. “Yeah, I’m more concerned about Bruce figuring it out.”

She looked up at him “I think we can pull it off.”

Dick looked down, meeting her eyes “Yeah?”

She nodded “Yeah. I mean how hard can it be to just act like we always used to, right? I mean things haven’t changed to our friends have they?”

Dick shook his head “No, we’re just friends still. Friends with an 8-week arrangement. But still the same friends as before.”

Barbara nodded “Exactly, we still appear the same way as we did before we did it, to those who don’t know we have.”

He laughed at her statement “You’re right as always. Don’t know why I was worried. “

Should I attempt to write a little ficlet of them trying to act casual at dinner?

[blush-and-books]

Juke 48 fluff please...

Prompt #48: “I told you to take care of yourself.”

Ksjahdsf High School AU inspired by the fact that my generation has been so crushed by the pressures of our education system that we would always show up to school with colds and strep and literally anything because we refused to miss school. Double inspired by the morning I threw up at 3AM and had a cold but literally went downstairs and monologued to my mom that I had to go to school bc I had two quizzes that would have been hell to make up and I would have had major anxiety if I missed anything. And she let me go. Triple inspired by the fact that pre-COVID I would get sick routinely 4 times across Oct, Nov and Dec because my peers would also show up sick. So, yeah. Here’s to the american education system 

Luke knows that something is off with his best friend when she finally approaches her locker that Wednesday morning, where he had been anxiously bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for her.

Where she is usually like sunshine to him, glowing brighter than the California sunrise -- a lyric in the song he was planning to show her, but would never admit was inspired by her as well -- she arrives with the pale glow of the moon instead. Julie’s eyes are half-open, and her usually bouncy curls have been pulled back and up unto a messy bun. 

He hasn’t seen her like this since-

“Jules,” he mumbles, half to himself and half to her when she finally looks up and notices him. Instantaneously, he takes an energetic step towards her, letting his hands rest on her upper arms. “Are you sick? Again?”

As if she doesn’t want to hear it, not again, her bottom lip juts out in a pout that is only seen on a miserable Julie Molina before she brushes past him to her locker. Deeply concerned, Luke trails after her. 

“Julie, hey,” he attempts, but she won’t look up at him. There’s a shame in her face while she gets her calculus textbook from her locker, and it’s then that Luke notices the thermos she’s clutching in her left hand. “Let me take this stuff. Drink your tea. Don’t try and talk, I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

She shakes her head, it’s not his fault, she’s the idiot showing up to school sick, but she couldn’t miss today. She just couldn’t. 

Without putting up a fight, she lets him take her backpack and textbook from her possession while she unscrews the lid of her thermos and chugs two big gulps of tea. Temporary relief is brought to her throat, but it doesn’t last long. 

“I-” She attempts, but Luke shoots her a glare and wags a finger at her. Ignoring him, she powers on. “I have a calc test and a history quiz and an English debate.”

“You can make those up.” “But do I want to? Do I want to miss a whole day of notes and work and assignments because I have a runny nose?”

(And a sore throat, obviously. And a headache. She also woke up right before her alarm to throw up, but she hasn’t felt the urge to do that again since. You get the picture though.)

“Jules, I mean this in the best way possible, but you look like there’s a lot more than a runny nose happening here. A runny nose was two weeks ago. This looks like your whole body aches.”

(Fair assessment. It does.)

She lifts her thermos to her lips once again to soothe the throbbing that resulted from her excuses, feeling her stomach twirl in a way that she can’t tell is another bout of nausea or just Luke making her painfully fall more in love with him. 

He, on the other hand, is one step away from hauling her over his shoulder and driving her home himself. He doesn’t know what to do. Julie’s stressed, and the stress has made her vulnerable to colds for the past couple of months, and this is the third time he’s seen her sick. No matter what, she shows up to school -- freshman year, she stayed home sick with the stomach flu, and had a panic attack in the bathroom on the day that she came back. 

He knows because he was in her music class that year. Her best friend, Flynn, had rushed into the music room to explain to their teacher, and he’ll never forget it. 

Coincidentally, it was two months ago, with Julie’s first ceremonious cold of the year, that Luke officially realized that he was in love with her. It was the feeling of seeing her uncomfortable, powering through because she felt like she had to -- he was so proud, yet so worried, and wanted to bring her home so they could watch Tangled and he could make her the matzo ball soup recipe that Alex taught him when they were kids. 

“I know,” she croaks at him, face crumbling. “It does. I feel like shit. But I just have to get through today, and I’ll be fine.”

(After spending six hours at school, another two on homework, pedaling through five bottles of Gatorade and getting four hours of sleep because her throat and sinuses prevent her from any adequate rest. Yeah. She’ll be fine.) ((She’ll still come to school tomorrow.))

Luke knows all of this. In his head, he’s drafting the text to his parents that he’ll type out in his lap during first period to tell them that he’s going to be at the Molina’s for the next couple of days, taking care of Julie. They do have a band to worry about, after all, and their lead singer needs to be in top shape. 

Just looking at her tired face makes his chest hurt. She looks like she hasn’t smiled in a long time. Wanting to comfort her, somehow, he reaches his hands up to cradle her cheeks -- but she swats him away. 

“Luke, no. I’m not getting you sick.”

Fighting her flailing hands, he manages to slip his own to her cheeks, making sure that the fingers that are wandering into her hair rub her scalp. That’s always a calming, relieving feeling. 

“Impossible, mariposa. My immune system is Herculean.”

She looks up at him, fully, for the first time that morning. He can’t help but grin at getting to see her face, no matter how tired she thinks she looks, and even though she thinks he is full of shit she can’t help but mirror his expression. 

“There’s my girl,” he whispers unconsciously. Her skin warms underneath his hands. “Are you alright? Do you have a fever? You’re getting a little toasty.”

Her skin temperature rises from her blush even higher as his hands slip from her hair and to her forehead, pathetically testing for a fever. 

“I’m good,” she shakes her head, trying to brush it off. His eyes refocus on her, and he sighs; the air staying silent between them as she tries to decipher what he’s thinking. 

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he insists. “I told you to take care of yourself. Can’t have my frontwoman blowing her nose in between each song at a gig.”

“I’m your frontwoman now? Fuck Julie and the Phantoms, I guess.”

Luke smirks, and for a heavenly moment forgets that the precious girl in front of him isn’t in pain, but she stiffles a cough after her joke. Frowning, he drops his hands to grab hers so that he can hold them up between their chests. 

“You’re my everything, silly. Frontwoman, best friend, study partner, favorite person-”

“-Walking petri dish.”

“Yes. My walking petri dish.”

The joke lightens Julie up. Maybe today, if her and Luke can keep making jokes, she will get through. She can’t think of anything else to say as his lips press against her forehead in a gesture so caring that she would grab his face and move those lips down a few inches if she weren’t, you know, a walking petri dish. 

Before either of them can say anything else, the school bell rings. It’s time for her miserable day to start. Just the idea of sitting still in her math class makes her shiver, and she wraps her arms around herself. 

“Are you cold?” Luke jumps to ask, moving closer to her as the halls start moving with crowds of other students. 

“Luke, I’m fine-”

“My locker is right by your math class. I have a flannel in there. You’re wearing it today.”

“Luke-”

“No arguments. I was walking you to class anyways. I’m walking you to every class, actually. Your backpack weighs more than you do and that’s the last thing you need to feel right now.”

(Not to be creepy, but Julie Molina would marry Luke right now if he asked. Sometimes she wonders if her other best friend, Flynn, is right when she makes jokes about her and Luke being a married couple. If this is marriage, sign her up.)

“Thank you,” she says lightly, trying not to strain her throat. Luke responds with tugging on her left hand, beginning to pull her towards the staircase at the end of the hall. 

“We’ll get you better, Molina. Mark my words.”

Tagging @willexx because you got all impatient on me. love you babe and love you too anon!!

[theimpossiblescheme]

“Where have you been?!”--for Goemon and whoever you want!

Goemon could already feel his heart sink a bit when a boy no older than seven answered the door, cracking it open just enough to turn on the porchlight above them.  “C-Can I help you, Mister—” he nervously eyed the sword at his side—“Mister Samurai?”

“Yes, can you tell me if… if the lady of the house is home?”  He wasn’t exactly sure what the proper form of address was.  Calling her by her first name seemed too familiar, but he couldn’t be sure if she’d changed her last name in the… fifteen years?  Since he’d last seen her.

(Had it really been fifteen years?  How had he let the time fly away from him like that?  What could he have possibly been too busy with to come back, even just to say hello?)

The boy nodded and hid a few more inches behind the door, turning his face away.  “Mom!” he called, and Goemon’s heart sunk a little bit deeper. “There’s somebody at the door! Says he wants to see you!”

“What is it, Kōhei?” A woman’s voice sounded down the inside hallway, followed by the whisper of socked feet.  Then another hand came to nudge open the door, and there was Murasaki.  Dressed in worn grass-stained blue jeans and a yellow cardigan, her long hair pinned up out of her face in a loose bun and showing a few strands of grey at her temples. Certainly thinner and more tired-looking than he remembered her, but her face lit up with a brilliant smile as she recognized him.

“Goemon!”  She sounded shocked, but delighted at the same time. “What are you doing here?”

Suddenly that sounded like a very good question.  But Goemon tried to maintain his composure.  “I… I hope I’m not intruding.  I thought I might stop by and—and see how you were doing.”

“Okay.”  She nodded slightly, as if still registering his presence, before seeming to relax a bit and opening the front door wider.  “Yeah, come on in!  Kōhei—” she ran a gentle hand through the boy’s hair—“this is Mom’s old friend, Goemon.  He’s the one who saved our whole family from the Fuma clan, remember?”

Kōhei ducked behind Murasaki’s pantleg and muttered a quick “hi” before dashing off down the hall.  Goemon couldn’t help but give a tiny smile as he slipped off his shoes, discarded his sword, and stepped inside.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just shy,” Murasaki said as she watched him run off, tucking a few loose strands of hair back into her bun before turning back to Goemon.  “So what brings you all the way out here?”  The where on earth have you been?! was implied, even if it was a gentle urging rather than a demand, and for a moment Goemon had no idea what excuse he could possibly give.  What did one even say after fifteen years?

“I—Lupin and Jigen and I had been travelling for a while, and I had… I had started to miss home. And I figured along the way I would come and visit you… since it’s been so long.”  We’ve done so much together, Murasaki, you wouldn’t believe, his thoughts raced wildly.  We stole from palaces, we robbed the biggest casino in the world, we saved a princess and uncovered a worldwide conspiracy… and I never even thought to write to you.  And it’s been too long for any apology to be good enough.  I wish you could have seen it, I know Lupin wanted to invite you along all those years ago, and I know you wanted to see the world.  I’m sorry I never took him up on it when I had the chance.  “I hope I didn’t come at a bad time,” was what he said instead.

“No, no, it’s okay!” she quickly reassured him.  “Actually, you came at a great time—I was just making us a late supper.  We’ve been so busy today the time kind of got away from us, but you’re welcome to join us!”

Goemon blinked.  Of all the responses she could have given, that was the most optimistic one, but he’d always suspected it was just wishful thinking.  Now that he was here… “I’d… I would like that.”  

Murasaki gave him another smile, an even brighter one this time, and gestured for him to follow her. He still remembered his way around the Suminawas’ old home surprisingly well, although the large TV in the living room and the power strips with multiple long extension cords running to and from the kitchen threw him for a moment, and he almost sat on someone’s stuffed dog next to the dining room table.  While Murasaki busied herself in the kitchen, he glanced around the place through the open dividing screens, taking it all in.  It was still the same house, the same woodwork, the same art on the walls and shelves, the same view of the garden outside… but it felt very different now.  More energetic in a way, more lived-in.

“That boy, Kōhei… is he yours?”  He had to be—she’d clearly named him after her grandfather, who must have passed away years ago.  Another pang wrung through Goemon at the thought.

“Mm-hm.”  Murasaki rearranged a few pots on the stovetop before getting a new one out for tea and filling it with water.  “Kaneto and I adopted him.  We’d always wanted kids, but neither of us wanted…”  She shrugged demonstratively.  “You know.”

Goemon nodded.  At least she’d found someone else who understood what she truly wanted in a marriage, even if it might seem like comparatively little.  “What does Kaneto do for a living?”

“We both teach!  At the high school the next town over—he teaches history, I teach biology.”  Setting out two teacups on the counter and leaving the water to boil, she turned back around to face her guest.  “And one the weekends he helps me with the garden.  That’s what we were doing all day until I sent him out to go run errands for me,” she added with a somewhat embarrassed wave down at her jeans.

Goemon only nodded again. He remembered her telling him, way back when they first met, that she wanted to earn her teaching degree someday, even if she had to put it on hold to care for her family.  Now she seemed truly happy with both, and he was happy for her truly—it would be selfish of him to even entertain the slightest bitter thought…

It wasn’t bitterness exactly.  More of a heaviness that sat at the bottom of his ribs and the pit of his stomach, even at seeing her current happiness.  A feeling he’d always tried so hard to transcend over the years, but it never quite worked.

A photograph hanging nearby caught his attention—a family portrait.  Murasaki stood beaming next to a man in a smart, slightly old-fashioned suit with dark brown hair.  They were about the same height, which made Goemon chuckle, but the Kaneto in the frame still managed to smile down at his wife like he couldn’t believe his good luck. Next to her stood a much more energetic Kōhei, grinning from ear to ear, and at Kaneto’s side stood a little girl, presumably their daughter, in bright yellow overalls and a fluffy white bow in her ponytail.  All four of them looked deliriously happy, and Goemon’s heart suddenly ached so much he could feel his shoulders sinking as the heaviness expanded.  He’d missed it.  He’d missed all of it.  She’d found love again, gotten married for real this time, taken in her own adorable children, built a new life for herself…

And he hadn’t even thought to write to her.  She’d never left his thoughts, never for a moment, but thoughts couldn’t be delivered to someone’s home, couldn’t be read as plainly as words on a page.  So much time he’d never get back, so many chances gone. He didn’t even feel bitter at the loss—he just felt sad, almost ashamed, that he’d never known, never got a chance to be there when it all happened.  It felt odd, almost too simple assigning such a basic word to such a strong emotion, but sometimes the simplest explanations were the best.

“It sounds like I’ve missed quite a lot.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but a frown line in Murasaki’s forehead deepened as she tended to the tea.  “Well… you were gone for a long time.”  Her voice was still gentle and nonjudgmental, but the additional weight of her words settled at the pit of his stomach and joined the sour, regretful churn there.

“I know.”  It was silly, really… Goemon wasn���t entirely sure what he’d expected.  Even years before the whole mess with the Fuma clan, they had both been practically children when they first met.  And while she’d been able to stay that way a little longer, joyous and bouncy and carefree even into her twenties, he had to grow up rather quickly.  Momochi’s treachery, Jinen’s murder, that terrible cult pursuing Fujiko… and all of this before he and Lupin found each other.  Since then he’d met three new friends, watched at least two old ones die, and forced himself to reconsider his place in the world. He could never be the same callow naïve youth he’d started as, and he could never be the same man who’d left that day, promising her he’d return once he’d completed his training… maybe he just didn’t like the reminder.

I’m not going to wait for you, Goemon!

It seemed nothing had. And it was selfish of him to expect otherwise.  He’d once though that no matter how much the world changed, he would stay the same… now he realized even that wasn’t true.  He was part of the same world as Murasaki, as Lupin and Jigen and Fujiko—time passed the same for all of them, no matter how they tried to fight it.

“I didn’t know it would be so long.”  It was no excuse, but more of a musing… no one ever did, did they?  And then the next thing they knew, fifteen years had gone by without so much as a by-your-leave.

And Murasaki, kind and forever buoyant soul that she was, still refused to judge him.  Or if she was, she never betrayed even a hint of it. “I get it.”  She poured the water and tea leaves back into the pot to let them steep a few minutes.  “Life goes on, you know?  It just… happens, no matter where we are.  That’s what Grandpa used to say.”  A silence ensued then, not quite entirely comfortable, but still companionable as Goemon pondered her words.  They were true enough—if someone had told that callow naïve youth that he’d spend years of training to be an assassin, that he’d throw in his lot (and fall in love) with a pack of thieves, that he’d turn down marriage into another proud and noble family… he definitely would have laughed.

What was the phrase? The best laid plans of mice and men… they all certainly seemed to go awry in his experience.

“But for what it’s worth,” Murasaki ventured, emerging from the kitchen with two fresh cups of tea and pressing one into his hand as she sat across from him, “I am glad you came to visit.”

“… I am, too.”  He was here now, at least.  And perhaps… for all the time he’d lost, there was still time to make it up.  He wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.  As strangely final was his last goodbye to Lupin and Jigen had felt, he loved them and Fujiko far too much to leave their sides entirely.  Besides, a samurai’s lot was to serve until death, or at least until he was no longer useful.  Retirement simply wasn’t in the cards for Goemon—he’d made peace with that long ago.  But strangely enough, the sentiment didn’t have the same… rigid structure it once had. It was less of a solemn vow, a mast he needed to lash himself to lest he be tempted by some other siren song, and more of a recognition of the way things were.  Of where his life had led him and would continue to lead.

It had led him and Murasaki in different directions.  With their own respective families, unorthodox as his own was (and he could just imagine the insufferably saccharine look on Lupin’s face if he’d heard Goemon refer to him as such).  And they were both happy.  Maybe years ago he might have resented that, but now… this also felt like the way things were meant to be.  Tea on the table, supper on the stove, sitting across from a loved one.  What more could he ask?

He did want to at least offer a little more, though—it only seemed fair.  “I will probably go back to my family’s old home for a little while, but… if you ever need somebody to help you with the children or in the garden, I’d be more than happy.”

“That sounds wonderful. Oh!”  She reached across the table to pat his hand excitedly, a quick succession of feather-light taps.  “And you have to meet Mayumi—she would adore you.”

Goemon smiled again, and some of the weight in his chest began to lessen.  “I look forward to it.”

[nalufever]

Opportunity

Chapter Two of The Night Shift, a collaborative work between myself and @hidetheremote

AnS fandom, Obi x Shirayuki, hopelessly late posting for ‘Trope Madness’ 

One of Obi's faults is that he's gallant, always wanting to help those less fortunate - and some people (Torou) take advantage of his foolish, soft heart. Good thing Shirayuki is always in Obi's corner.

Read Chapter One HERE

Fifteen years ago…..

Garbage whipped by a bitter wind skittered past a cold and shaking Obi. Winter had hit hard, the snow was piling up fast. If he’d had free time and the urge he’d have made a snowman - but he didn’t and couldn’t waste energy on such a frivolous activity. Obi needed to find shelter and he was running out of time.

Tall for his age and thin, most people assumed he was an adult and left him to his own devices. Obi was barely able to feed himself, let alone clothe himself. His jacket was half as old as he was - and badly patched. It didn’t keep him warm from the snow that threatened to freeze his bones as he scrounged for work. Not wanting to burden his few friends with overstaying his welcome, Obi refused to take advantage. He moved from friend's house to friend's house, keeping his secrets close to his chest.

A newspaper carried by the strong wind hit him in the chest with a wet thump, startling Obi into reflexively grabbing it. An article jumped out at Obi, one that mentioned a food kitchen looking for volunteers. It was close - and that was the best news he'd had all day.

The first person to greet Obi was a short but bouncy, red-headed sprite of a girl. “Hi! I’m Shirayuki, what’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Manners are very important!”

The young girl pouted and Obi couldn’t help but tease. “On second thought, you’re right. Manners are what separate humans from animals, Miss. Please accept my apologies for my lack of priorities. My name is Obi.”

Shirayuki smiled and Obi’s worries and fears started fading. He’d have a hot meal and maybe start to rebuild his life; this girl was beaming at him so brightly he felt invincible - his guiding star had to be on the rise. Obi accepted a tray from the girl and portions of everything available, waving goodbye to the little Miss and then searching for a good spot to sit and eat.

In the far corner away from the door (which every time it opened sent more cold snow and air swirling into the room), Obi sat with his back to the wall at a table with another girl of roughly his own age - also with her back to the wall. Intent on feeding himself, Obi tore open the bun and slathered butter on it, ripping a big portion off with his first bite. He chewed and did his best to keep his appreciative moans and smacking lips to a minimum.

“Oi! Keep it down!”

“Sorry-not-sorry.” Obi shoved a giant spoonful of stew into his mouth and turned his head to look with suspicion at his table mate. “Mrff sppr anfry.”

“Gross. You always talk with your mouth full?”

Obi swallowed and sighed at the girl. “I’m super hungry.”

“Nice to meet you, ‘super hungry,’ I’m Torou.” The girl - Torou - flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder and batted her matching brown eyes at Obi coquettishly. “First time in a place like this?”

“Is it that obvious?” Obi sat more upright and pretended to not be guarding his food. “I’ve been doing alright for the most part. I don’t like to have to accept help, but I-I’m having a hard time.”

“We all are, every person here has it tough.” Torou pulled out another bun from her pocket and a couple more packets of butter, pushing them at the thin but cute teen. “What about a real name?”

“Ugh, yeah - sorry. You can call me Nanaki.” Obi crammed the rest of his bun into his mouth, grabbing the offered bread to shove it into a pocket for later. He chewed and swallowed. “Thanks, Torou, I haven’t eaten since…I’m not sure.”

“I could tell.” She giggled, twirling strands of her hair around one finger, leaning closer. “Well, maybe we can help each other.”

“You got more food in your pockets? Don’t you want to eat that?”

“Silly boy, I’m talking about taking opportunities and turning them into cash.”

><><><><><

Present day….

Obi checked his phone and again Torou had texted him, begging for one more chance. Enough was enough. He’d done lots of stupid things when he’d been young and homeless - and now Obi was poised to finally have a date with Shirayuki. There was no way in hell he wanted to screw his chances.

He sighed, about to shut off his phone, but it chimed - this time a phone call from Torou. Voice pitched low and aggravated, Obi growled, “What do you want?” The hallway was too full of distractions so Obi sped to the stairwell and slumped against the far wall.

“I still want what I was asking from you at the Greenhouse.” She was clearly amused. “I’m gonna keep working on you until you cave. One little, tiny favour is all I ask - you could do it in your sleep!”

“Maybe fifteen years ago, but I’ve changed - and I thought you had too.”

“What’s that old saying? A leopard doesn’t change its spots?” Torou’s laugh was high and shrill. “I’ve shed some of my spots - but there’s one big one that just won’t budge. Tomi won’t let me escape so easily.”

“Tomi, still?” Ire and disgust coloured Obi’s tone.

“Don’t say it like that, I gave up most of that when he got sent away.” Torou’s voice got thin and small, in direct contrast to how she’d laughed only seconds ago. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice.”

“Ugh… Dammit.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“I’m not saying yes, but it looks like I can’t say no.” Obi rubbed his forehead. “My shift is pretty well over. Where are you?”

“I’ll text you the address. And Obi...don't end up like me.”

Obi heard Torou sniff and end the connection. Stomach roiling with old fears, new doubts and a fair amount of anger for Tomi, Obi shoved his phone into his pocket and made tracks for the parking lot.

><><><><><

“Pssst!” Torou yanked Obi’s arm as he walked past where she’d been lurking. “Come here often?”

Obi grimaced, turning to face Torou as she started giggling. He growled, “I didn’t come here for my health or any of your lame jokes. Why don’t you come with me and we can discuss your problems in my car? It’s too cold out in the open.”

“Didn’t know you wanted to get cozy.” Torou batted her eyelashes and licked her lips. “Giving up on Shirayuki? ‘Bout time.” She held onto his shoulders, almost leaning against him.

“As if. Your antics leave me even colder than the weather.” Obi shrugged away from Torou.

“Spoilsport.”

“Yeah, well -”

Torou’s phone chirped and she shushed Obi to look at the message she’d been sent. The blood drained from her face and she gasped, shivering, absently rubbing her gut. All her previous flirtatiousness behaviour died. “The job is a go - right now.”

Obi watched Torou shrink in on herself. As much as he didn’t want to assist her - he felt obligated. He’d never seen her so distraught before, not even when she’d been threatened with juvie. “And never again.”

“Sure, sure.” Torou pulled herself together, turning back into a capable thief in the space of a heartbeat. “Joint’s been cased thorough, I need you to get me inside, my talent will crack open the safe.”

“Fine, I open the door and leave.”

“Not so fast, two heads are better than one, right? I could use an extra set of eyes and ears - just in case.”

“Sounds like it hasn’t been cased proper.” Obi folded his arms and glared. “You need me to help search for the safe, don’t you?”

“Tomi stops digging once he sees what he wants.” Torou shrugged, jamming her hands into her pockets. “Especially if he can send someone else to do the real work.”

“Fucking unbelievable.”

“I promise, never again.” Torou gave a subtle head nod to the garish green house on the corner. “C’mon, time’s a wasting!”

><><><><><

It was regretfully easy for Obi to bypass the electronic locks on the back patio door; fifteen years hiatus on his break and enter skills hadn’t been enough to set any rust on them. Dammit. One more careful motion and the physical lock popped open. Obi slid the door open and motioned to Torou. “Hurry.”

“Don’t get your panties in a knot.” She blew on her gloved fingers. “We both search - upstairs first - there’s only three bedrooms on that floor. Behind big ugly paintings first and closets second.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” Torou blew Obi a kiss before tiptoeing down the hall and running up the stairs, knowing her unwilling partner would soon follow once he explored the main floor. His habits were part of his charm.

Obi scowled as he stalked through the house, finding nothing out of the ordinary - it was well maintained and decorated nicely - if a bit old-fashioned. He shuddered - lots of big floral patterns and an excessive amount of plaid where they’d run out of room for roses. There was a wood burning fireplace too - currently unused - flanked by an antique set of wrought iron tools.

Obi met Torou leaving the bedroom closest to the stairs; she shook her head. “A kid’s room. It’s gotta be the second or the master bedroom.”

“You take the master then, most likely it’s not the second - but I’ll check it out.”

“Okay.” Torou gave Obi a mock salute. “You haven’t missed a trick even after all these years.”

“But I’d like to,” he muttered, “forget all about this and the dumb stuff you pulled me into.”

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Torou taunted Obi with a wink and another blown kiss.

“That’s only if Tomi didn't steal them first.” Obi rubbed his forehead and walked towards the second bedroom, slipping inside. Nothing on these walls except more giant, ugly, cabbage roses on the wallpaper. Ugh! So old-fashioned. Was this the house of a grandma from the 1950’s? The closet door was in contrast overly new looking - and the right size for a custom walk-in. Could be the safe was here instead of in the master.

Only one way to find out - Obi drew open the closet door and did his best to staunch a horrified gasp. No safe, but lots and lots of adult...gear. Whips, chains, what had to be porn magazines, several squirt bottles of lube and items he thankfully could not easily identify. He shook his head and shuddered. Fucking hell.

Suddenly aware he’d zoned out, standing in front of what could fully stock an orgy, Obi made to shut the Pandora’s box of porn - but a heavy tread stumping up the stairs made his flesh crawl and his blood chill. Too late to run to warn Torou… A split second later, Obi made up his mind and jumped into the closet, sending a frantic text to Torou. <>

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He anxiously watched his phone, expecting Torou to text him back - but no answer. Shit. Was the homeowner bludgeoning Torou as he cowered amongst the pleather outfits and massive battery driven toys? Shit. Obi held his breath - the carefree, loud footsteps were getting louder. His stomach plummeted. Somebody wanted a little something-something before getting some sleep.

Shit. Fuck. Damn. Obi secured his phone and waited in the farthest corner of the closet, poised to take action. The door was yanked open and a hand rummaged inside - through long familiarity no doubt - reaching with unerring grace for the flesh pocket - and shut the door. Obi slumped backward in relief. Thank all the unholy sex gods and goddesses.

Shit - now did he try to save Torou from the horny homeowner or escape? Shit. Fuck. Damn. Obi strained his ears - nothing. No horrid buzz of an adult toy - no heavy footsteps - no screams. He said a little prayer and pushed the closet door open the smallest amount he could to see out of - and about felt his soul leave his body.

The horny homeowner was sitting on the spare bed looking through his mail - the waiting lurid plastic lips of the fleshlight leering at Obi. Jesus, lord love a duck. At least the guy's head was bowed and he’d missed seeing a surprise visitor pop out of his closet. Obi didn’t know what to hope for - the horny guy going to town on himself, or sudden merciful death.

Torou texted Obi. <>

Several things happened at once. Obi’s phone signalled itself with a snippet of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance, horny homeowner bolted off his bed, still holding his mail, looking around wildly. “What the fuck!”

Shit. Fuck. Damn. Obi yanked his balaclava down to obscure his face, blindly taking the closest item to hand and bolted out of the closet. Fast, so fast - sprinting like the wind - but the horny homeowner managed to tackle Obi. Obi felt a sharp, burning pinch and then he twisted, bucking off the guy who was screaming bloody blue murder. Slamming the door behind himself, Obi used the bullwhip he'd grabbed, jamming it like a doorstop to keep the irate man a little occupied while they escaped.

“Go, go, go!” Obi ran past Torou who was cradling her ill-gotten goods in a nondescript gym bag.

“I’m going!” Torou hissed. “New much?”

“Never again!” Adrenalin kept Obi and Torou running outside into the bare glimmer of dawn - Obi towards his car and Torou - she jumped into a waiting white van that zoomed off before she’d even fully landed in the passenger seat. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Obi ran into the semi cover of a bush - slowed his headlong rush into an ambling power walk and uncovered his face. Nothing said ‘up to no good’ like a balaclava pulled down on a guy fleeing in the dark. He’d fucked up but he could repent at leisure once he was safe.

Obi hustled down the alley to his car, unlocking it, smiling at the cheerful chirp and slid inside behind the wheel. His back spasmed - fire erupted in his nerves. What the fuck? He felt his back as best he could, fingers coming away sticky - with something god-damned familiar.

><><><><

“Gimme a damn minute!” Shirayuki pulled on her bathrobe and belted it tight - the idiot pounding on her door was obviously drunk - and she’d have to kick his ass to curb without her pajamas. Barefoot, she stomped over to her front door, quickly checking that her door was on the chain. “What the hell is wrong with you? Some people are trying to-” she yanked open the door as much as the safety chain allowed, her angry tirade dying as she met Obi’s glazed eyes in his pale face.

“Mostly, what’s wrong with me, is I’ve been stabbed.” Obi gurgled a listless chuckle and collapsed.

[askblueberrymuffin]

✂ ( :3c )

((Mistakes were made, this is really, really long, read at your own discretion!

((YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.))

Citrus had received a text from Rex. It asked him to come over to his house. There were no specifications, time or anything. No joke or sarcastic flirty remarks. Nothing. Just a simple request. Which was odd, but not completely unusual. Perhaps he was having an off day? It would make sense why he would want the other over.

Besides, it’s not like coming over to the other’s house was any issue. It was only the quick, simple use of a ‘shortcut’ and he was at the front door. He raised his hand to knock on the front door, only for it to open before his knuckles made contact with the wood. He did not see who opened the door at first, as he was looking up, expecting Rex. Instead the culprit happened to be much, much lower down.

The little blue skeleton looked up at him with cheery eyes. He hopped back and opened the door widely. “Please, come in! Rex should be back any minute!” he exclaimed, the bow tying up his scarf bouncing with his movements.

It was quite unusual for Rex to ask him over when he wasn’t even home himself. Perhaps it had simply just been that kind of day. Sans closed the door behind him as he entered, before grabbing his arm and pulling him excitedly to the kitchen.

“Come on, come on! I tried out a new cinnamon bun recipe and I wanna professional opinion!” he exclaimed with a cheery, joking tone. Citrus chuckled. He could never say no to Sans when he seemed so excited and bouncy.

Well, you know what they say. Hindsight is 20/20 after all. He couldn’t have known Sans was more than what he said he was. He couldn’t have known the baked treat had been laced with something sinister. And how was he to have looked into a face near identical to his brother’s and know he was looking at a monster with a LOVE higher than 1…?

First it was an odd aftertaste. But it was fast acting. A tingly feeling spread throughout his body. First his fingertips went numb, then he dropped his fork. His hands– no. His limbs all felt just so… Heavy.

What was going on…?

“hey uh… bro? i… i can’t move my…” his voice quiets as a dizziness invaded his mind. Next, his head was against the table. He tried to lift himself back up, but it felt like he was at the bottom of the ocean. His bones could no longer lift him. He looks over at Sans. The smaller skeleton is watching him with a calm, blank expression. His eyelights are both pure white. He has never seen them like that.

A thought is slowly sinking in… A thought he cannot yet fully comprehend. One he doesn’t want to comprehend. His magic responds on it’s own, his eye sockets filled with yellow and orange light. “i can’t move… bro..?” he asks. He’s trying not to panic at the situation. Perhaps it was a simple misunderstanding..?

So hopeful.

“Of course, silly!” Blue finally spoke up, his expression turning bright and cheery. His voice was so sweet… It was too sweet? He had a hand to his face to cover his smile. He winked in a cutesy manner. “That’s the point~!” A sing-song, sickeningly sweet tone.

“c'mon, dude—this is uncalled for. is this cause o’ the snowball fight? ya wanna, like—make sure ya can get a hit in?” An attempt to lighten the situation, but he’s stressed, and its obvious.

“Ohh, I think this is plenty called for.” With a skip in his step he comes over, picking the other up easily bridal style. He peaks out the window quickly before opening the door with a little use of magic. He’s heading to the shed, humming some song happily to himself, without a care in the world. All things considered, he seems quite happy.

“Besides, it’ll be harder if you’re wriggling around. I might need more than one good hit! I’ve learned from past mistakes!” he exclaims, still sounding happy, but his voice is lowered so only the other hears. The town is quiet. It’s quite late. No one is out. All acts have been dropped. Is this the real him..? 

Citrus is tense, his bones involuntarily rattling. “c'mon, bro—what’d I do?” He needs to get out, or stall him, or something !! Hearing that Sans is going to hit him? His eye sockets become hollow and dark, pure fear overtaking his features. What had he done? Maybe he could bargain - he had to try something! 

“y—-ya don’t gotta do that. jus’ put me down, an’ i’ll leave. won’t come back here ever again. but don’t kill me.if ya kill me, i can’t go home, an’ if theres a reset, there’s no guarantee it’ll bring me back there. what if it leaves him alone?”

The bright, star-like lights in Blue’s eyes darken, leaving his smile vacant and unnerving. “T h a t ’ s   n o t   m y   p r o b l e m   i s   i t . . ?”

He had to go.

His eyes darted around for an escape. He couldn’t move, what else could he do? It dawned on him. His magic! Without a second thought he teleports himself out of the other’s arms, only to end up face first in a snowbank. He’s not far enough, no! He teleports again, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t teleport as far as he normally could and he only kept collapsing into the snow.

Frantic he continued to expend more and more magic, even if it only moved him a few feet. He didn’t know where he was going but he just had to get away.

He could feel himself becoming tired and drained… No not yet. This was the worst possible time! He had to make it, there was no way around that! He had to keep going! But his body couldn’t hold the same resolve as his mind.

He was stuck. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear anything. He seemed to be in the foggy area between Snowdin and Waterfall... He really hadn’t made it far, had he..? He can hear the crunching of snow under small boots. It’s coming closer to him... He wants to run or even just turn to look. But he can’t...

“Silly... Silly! Silly, silly!” Gloved hands grasp his shoulder and flip him over so he’s face to face with his tormentor. “You thought you could get away so easily? That’s adorable, Citrus!” he exclaims, a warm smile on his face. It looked so real, but now he knew. He knew it was fake. He couldn’t do anything as he was picked up again.

Nor could he do anything as he was brought into the shed. The door was bolted shut. Without any real words, only the simple humming of a happy song, He began to work. This didn’t need to be slow and cruel... But he could make it that way.

The small skeleton may have been sick in the head. However, he still didn’t want to make a mess. Some things never change. Even if the similarity happens to be found in this psychopath. He grabs a black garbage back and begins the process of collecting the other into it, tall as he may be.

“He wouldn’t stop talking about you, you know? Citrus this, Citrus that. Did you hear what Citrus did today?” he began to speak. With a huff given through a faint smile he continued. “He was happy and that was good. But the way he started talking about you... The way he looked at you. Eheheh, you didn’t notice at all.” He sounds like a stereotypical housewife bickering about the most recent gossip.

Except that gossip is about him and she’s a twisted copy of his brother who’s tying the bag shut. It seems so dark suddenly. He feels claustrophobic and he feels like he doesn’t have enough air. Of course he wouldn’t run out of oxygen so quickly, but the oppressive atmosphere and his terror recreate the feeling of suffocation with startling accuracy. The static from the plastic feels uncomfortable against his bones and he’s curled in an awkward, uncomfortable position to fit in the bag fully.

“You’re such a distraction. I can’t have that.” Citrus can hear him lift something heavy from the back wall. No... “It’s really a shame. I actually liked you.” No, no, no--

A sharp force crashes into his legs. The bones break and splinter, pain coursing through his body. He can’t stop the strangled scream that leaves his mouth. He tries to plead, only to be struck by the heavy instrument again, this time snapping his humerus and cracking his ribs. He coughed, the chipped fragments of bones turning to dust in his ribcage, in the bag. Breathing in only brought the plastic into his face, as he choked for air.

It took three more hard strikes from the other. Pain clouded whatever vision he had and his thoughts were invaded by pure terror. He was going to die here. He was dying. He will die. Tears he hadn’t realized were falling caused the dust to stick to his face, pain surging in spikes through his shaking frame.

One final blow to the head caused a sickening crack and the form in the bag lost all defining features. He smiled, impressed the other managed to live through more than a single hit, what with his 1 HP and all. He must have really not wanted to die. It was quite commendable!

He set the shovel back against the wall as he picked up the bag. A shame he would have to throw away a perfectly good hoodie with him. But oh well, incriminating evidence is incriminating evidence. He walked out of the shed with the bag, tossing it into the dumpster before heading inside. He barely made it through the front door when the door to his room opened.

“Hey Sans, have you seen my phone?” Rex asked, holding earbuds in his hands which were still blasting music Blue could make out from where he was. He flashed an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I have not! If I find it I will give it back to you!”

[eerythingisshaka]

The Coffee Prince Pt. 3

(T’Challa x Reader)

  *Part 1*   *Part 2*

Word Count: 4.8k

Plot:  Stuck in your ways of living, one day at the coffee shop, you run into a tall dark roast that threatens to wake you up from your romantic hibernation.

*Previously*

Hi, I hope this is the right number.  (Y/N), I’m just calling to see if you would come with me to the music festival this weekend.  I don’t know if you heard about it or if it is your thing, but it sounds like a nice time.  We could just walk around, enjoy the sounds.  Uhh, just let me know when you get the chance, or I may see you at our favorite place.  (laughs then clears his throat)  Umm, but yeah, sorry for the long message.  This is T’Challa by the way.  Hope to hear from you soon.

Your phone prompts you to save or delete the message and you carefully save it before you listen a couple more times.  Putting your phone away you turn on your side, squeezing your legs together to bring yourself back down again.  You remind yourself that this is still just nothing more than two people meeting up at a public place with a bunch of other people.  No one has claimed nobody yet.  But like Tavia said, gotta milk it for what it’s worth, and how you feel right now is pretty damn priceless.

You had today on your mind every minute up until now.  When you woke up for work, you felt fully rested and eager to get through the day.  Not even the worst attitudes from customers could dampen your high from getting that call from T’Challa.  What a name, a melody of possibility in your head whenever you thought about him.  You purposely avoided the coffee shop just to make sure to keep anticipation at its peak.  You felt so silly thinking about it.  Tavia told you not to get too excited because it could still not count as a date yet.  The music festival was a 3 day bender, with hundreds of people attending.  She thought something so large and public wasn’t something a dude would choose if he is trying to choose you, in her nicest opinion.  You took her advice with a grain of salt, but one thing that couldn’t be denied is that he wanted to spend some time with you and that’s that on that!

The day of your date, you put yourself through nothing but self-love and self-care to get yourself in the right mindset.  Your playlist of bops hype up your spirit as your Aztec healing clay mask dry whilst you diy’d a mani-pedi for yourself.  Rinsing your face of the dried clay, you feel reborn, giving yourself kissy faces and posing to the beat of your jams.  For your hair, you had to go back and forth with yourself on what to do.  Your hair was currently in two-strand twists, so should you let them down, showing off all you defined curl beauty?  But it’s hot, so maybe a top bun or a faux hawk type of style could fit the festival vibe.  Or maybe save some time and step up the glam with one of your colorful headwraps.  Would he be offended, like you’re trying to be too into his culture or…

You decide to go for a half up, half down do.  Taking down your twists you pony your hair right on top of your head, spreading your curls out, leaving the other half to flow freely down the nape of your neck.  You put in some hoops, and some shorts to show off your most prized possessions.  You thank God and your mother for your gams.  A cool patterned tank and your gold gladiator sandals, you feel about ready, taking a glance in the mirror.  Your curves looked more ready than you felt as you checked the denim hugging your hips, the glint of your epidermis taking up all the attention.  You were a little self-conscious about having your thighs rubbing together or the shorts riding up, but those thighs were getting some attention today, so to hell with that!  Your tank was loose with large holes for the arms so your bra showed in places, which you loved cuz it was a cute one and them titties were sitting proper.  Your phone notifies you of your Lyft outside.  You get your crossbody bag and head out.

Closing your bedroom door Tavia sitting in the living room in a big old t-shirt and bonnet, eating some hot chips, watching the TV.

“Hey girl.  You look dope, wow.”  Tavia said deadpan, without even looking your way.

You click your tongue, “Why you playin? You didn't even check me out.  How I look?”  you say with a twirl.

Tavia looks back at you.  “Mhm, definitely catching somethin.  You shave?”

“Yeah, moisturized, the works.”  You say looking your legs over.

Tavia waves her chip at you, “Nah, nah.  Did you SHAVE though?”  She asks, wide eyed, sucking the hot red dust off of it comically.

“Girl!  Ain’t nobody tryna smash tonight!  What’re you taking me as?”  

“Well damn, why not?  Listen, you walk through here with some carnival game prize bigger than the door, imma assume he got some head.”  Tavia says.

“Shut your ass up!  I’m gone.  I’ll text you the danger phrase if this goes awry.”

“That’s mama’s baby!  Good Night!”  Tavia says throwing up the peace sign as you walk out.

The ride to the festival felt like a cross country journey.  You took the time to recheck your make-up, fan yourself from sweating since the driver seemed to not believe in A/C.  You went through different scenarios of greetings.  Hey!  Wassup?  Hi, how are you doing?  Funny seeing you here!  You fan yourself again trying to calm down, feeling idiotic with every minute.  Maybe it wasn’t the lack of air that was the issue.

Your phone beeps, probably Tavia hyping you or humbling you one last time.

I’m here, outside the entrance when you get here :9

The symbol at the end of the text message was not something you were familiar with, so hopefully it's not a blatant sign for something.  But you hopped in your seat a little. ecstatic at the message.  T’Challa was early, AKA on time and waiting for you!  God, what better way to have a man: ready and waiting.  And the only acceptable occasion for them to come early.

The car pulls up in the parking lot a few yards from the hoopla and you thank them as you get out.  Rows of cars lined the lot and the makeshift grass-converted parking area.  The cacophony of noise you here from the distance welcomed you as you walked down the sidewalk toward the welcoming banner until you saw him.  T’Challa paced slowly to and fro, looking up towards the sky, hands behind his back.  He dressed very comfortably, in a dark green buttoned down short sleeve shirt with some embroidery design on the front, accentuating his ample shoulder span.  T’Challa’s forearms were reporting for that duty, with biceps on deck.  Your pace feels slows as your feet become weights pounding the pavement.  Your nerves get to you as your mouth dries out.  Mixed with the summer heat, and you were officially the epitome of thirsty.  You try to have a proper strut down before he notices you: confident, bouncy, baddie.

T’Challa glances and finally sees you and a smile appears instantaneously on his face as he freezes in place to observe you coming up.  You try to hold your smile down as much as possible.  You don’t want to give him the upperhand of seeming too eager but damn, he looked fresh.  Within talking distance, you exchange greetings.

“How are you, (Y/N)?”  T’Challa asks pleasantly.

You nod humbly, “I am great, thanks.  How about you?”

“Much better now.  You look amazing this evening.”  T’Challa says with a quick glance over you.   Not even in a sleazy way, just like he truly appreciated your style, the apples of his cheeks practically popping off his face.

You start fanning yourself, giggling almost uncontrollably.  “Aww, I know I look a lot different outside my work clothes.  I can’t compare to these arms you decided to let out the house today.  Where you been hiding them?”  You say, turning up the flirt a little so he knows it's real.

T’Challa chuckles at you boldess, “Ahh, stop it.  My sister suggested this shirt.  I wondered if she was setting me up for something.”

“Mhm, for a thirst trap definitely.  But it’s great.”  You’re so starstruck.  “Uh, your text had an odd symbol at the end of it.  What does it mean?”  You pull out your phone and show it.

“Ahh, I meant a smiley face.  I;m not the best texter unfortunately, so typos will happen.”  He puts his hands in his pockets anxiously.   “Are you ready to go in?”

“Yup!  Let’s hit it!” You say excitedly.  T’Challa gives the ‘after you’ motion with a wave of his hand.  Once y’all make it inside, you feel overwhelmed with the crowds of people walking through, dancing, talking.  You get caught up in the scene, your mind fades out not sure what to tackle next.  

“Do you want to walk around?”  He asks over you.

You turn to see him waiting on your answer.  Your introversion was coming back strong.  

“Uh, yeah.  Sorry, let’s walk.”

Walking down the way you pass through see a couple acts performing.  Nothing really bumping in the section you guys are at.  You check T’Challa in your peripheral and he is just looking around, not saying anything.  There is so much you could say but you don’t know the precedence to say it in.  The worst thing about dating for you was the talking and getting to know each other.   

“Do you know any of the acts that were performing today?”  T’Challa asks you.

Shit, you thought.  You didn’t even research anything about this festival.  That would’ve been a great ice breaker.

“Uh...no.  I didn’t.  This could’ve been a country music hoedown and I’d be none the wiser.” you say pitifully.

T’Challa nods, “So, not a fan of the twang vocals of cowboys and saloon girls?  What music do you listen to?”

You shake your head smiling, “Not ‘cowboys and saloon girls’ though!  But those kinds of questions are too hard to ask!  I listen to so many kinds, I can't devote myself to a genre.  Even country sometimes, even though I lowkey trashed it just now.  It has to be done right, white people always take it and bastardize it.”

“Blues, jazz, rock n roll…”  T’Challa lists.

You say with a clap, “Exactly!  We get stuck with the short end of the stick, erased from history.”

“I feel similarly.  I am spoiled by my country’s sound.  I have other artists that I enjoy but I stick to a certain group of them.”

“Any that I heard of?” you ask.

He thinks a moment.  “That's the thing too, I'm not good with names!  I enjoy the art and almost entirely ignore the person creating it.”  You look at him incredulously.  He puts his hands up in surrender.  “It’s bad, I know.  But I enjoy a lot of old school acts, R&B, soul. And of course local bands from Wakanda.”

“You will have to let me listen to some of your music then.”  You say, suddenly shy again.  Did that come off too strong?  Too eager, as per usual.

T’Challa makes a subtle grunt noise, stopping next to you, “Oh, so you definitely want to see me after this, eh?” l

You smile as your stomach does NOLA bounce routine.  Trying not to answer right away, you fake a thinking pose, “Slip of the tongue, but we will see how the night goes.” you say teasingly.  

You guys walk past concessions and T’Challa offers to buy.  

“What do you desire?” he asks.

Looking over the menu, you really hadn't worked up an appetite yet but you sure as hell was hot in the unforgiving humidity.

“Just a slushie, please.”

“Good choice. What flavor?”

“Red.”

T’Challa looks back at you confused, “And by chance, what flavor is red?”

You roll your eyes, “Are you pushing your respectability politics off on me? Red is red, I said what I said.”

T’Challa laughs at your antics, placing the order with the cashier.  He gets one too, in blue.  You both walk down the way, enjoying your treats.

“Mm, this is so good.  Thanks for buying.” you say as you eat the sugary ice.  The coolness radiates through your body against the evening heat.

“You don’t have to thank me.  You’re too polite; I’ll have to fine you for your courtesies.”

“Nooo, I’m poor, please!”  you look to him with puppy dog eyes for forgiveness

T’Challa sips from his straw as he mulls it over.  “I’ll let you off with good behavior, for now.”  

“Too kind, my good man.”  you say before sticking your red-dyed out at him in jest.

T’Challa laughs at your action, “Your maturity is unmatched.”

A bell dings nearby and a crowd erupts.  One of those strong man meters is set up and is obviously a crowd favorite.  

“Hey, you think you could do work on that over there?”

T’Challa checks it out shaking his head slightly unsure, “Ahh, I haven’t been to the gym in a while, I don’t know…”

You look over at the worker passing a teddy to the patron, “Well, I want to at least get a consolation prize.  I’ll give it a go.  Hold this.”  You hand your empty cup to T’Challa, strolling over.  

“Madam, would you like to take a crack at it?”  The candy striped worker said, handing the mallet your way.

“Damn right!”  you say confidently.  

“You can do it!”  you look behind you see T’Challa, beaming, holding up both cups.  You square up and take a swing.  No bell rung, and it didn’t make it past wimp, but the thrill was nice as you came out of your shell a little more.  

“Nice try, young lady, nice try.  But no one goes away empty handed.  For you!”  the candy striped man gives you a mini plushie duck fitting the palm of your hand.

“Thank you!  It’s so cute,”  You say, walking away smiling at the cute animal in hand.

“Maybe it’d ring if she sat on it.”  a nearby voice said.

A white guy red as a beet sneers as you catch his eye, sipping his beer.  You feel your good vibes disintegrate as he smiles pridefully at his joke, you.  One thing that you haven’t been able to shake yet is how hurtful comments to your face about your weight can be.  Remnants from your childhood made for a shaky foundation in your establishment of your worth.  You knew these crowds would be an issue eventually.

“You sir, you’d like a shot?”  You didn’t even notice until he had the hammer in his hand, but T’Challa was at the game getting ready to swing down.  The ball shot up the column, rang the bell like a thunderclap, and knocked the dome clean off of it.  

T’Challa looked over to the man in the crowd pointing the hammer his direction, “If you can only find confidence in talking down to others, I would suggest you lay your head right down here next time, so I can drum some sense into your brain, eh?”  The white man was wiping his shirt, looking back at T’Challa all shooketh.  He must’ve jumped out of his skin when T’Challa brought the hammer down.

The candy striped guy picked up the dome of the bell, “Uh, sir, did you want your prize or…”

T’Challa lays the hammer against the game, “Yes, my good man.”

The worker handed T’Challa a large, plush black cat.  T’Challa took it, striding over to you.  Your heart swelled with delight as he handed it to you.  Not been to the gym in a while, my ass!, you thought.  Those arms, back, shoulders, with some thigh assist didn’t lie though.  You hugged your prize close.

T’Challa stood in front of you with concern, “Are you ok?  I’m sorry if I acted out of turn.”

You looked at him shaking your head, “Don't apologize, or I’ll have to fine you!”  you say with a wag of you finger.

“T’Challa smiled with relief, “He had no right to speak to you like that.”

You sigh, “I’ve heard it before, and I’ve heard even worse.”  You start to walk on as T’Challa followed.  “It was hard for me to fit in growing up at first because of my size, so I was bullied early on.  But I started beating people to the punchline and the bullying soon stopped.”

“Do you ever believe the things people say?”  T’Challa asked.

“No, not all the time anyway.  It’s gotten better since college.  I look at a lot of body positive people online and learn some tricks to cope.”

“(Y/N), I won’t tell you how to feel but anyone that talks about you with ill intent is either insane or not completely right up here.”  He says pointing to his head.

You gained comfort from the respite T’Challa gave you.  “I know, and sometimes it's not even them.  I can be my worst critic.  But I know not to fall for the smooth talking Negros that like to prey on the vulnerable too.”  you say pointedly.

T’Challa looks to you mouth agape, “I don’t consider myself a smooth person, so I won’t take that as a warning to me.”

“Oh please!  You waltzing over to threaten the guy in my honor?  Smoove.  Buying me a water a while back to soothe my scalded tongue?  Smoove.  The fact that you even got me to talk to you?  Smoover than smoove.”

T’Challa laughs, “All right, enough!  It’s not on purpose however.  Certain traits become exemplified when I’m around certain kinds of people.”  He looks at you smiling before looking on.  You hug your cat tighter.  Which cat you ask?  WELL......

T’Challa goes on, “and I'm no stranger to bullying myself.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I have a very smart alek, very calculative jester for a little sister who has no end to calling out my uncool ways.”

You laugh, “Little siblings are the worst. I know, cuz I am one, and we have that right!”

“Bast, when will the tyranny end!”  T’Challa calls to the skies.

A stage nearby lights up with low glow blues and purples, yellows and greens.  The a crowd erupts as the act is about to  start up and you hear something familiar.

“Oh my God.”  You freeze in your place.

“What is it?”  T’Challa asks worrisome.  

“Do you know them??  Oh my God!” You say without anything else, running into the crowd as the act steps up to their mics.  

T’Challa trails you until you reach a stopping point.

“Oh my God, The Internet!  Syd!  Oh my GOD!!”  You scream waving around your plushie.

Syd tha Kyd steps to the mic, crooning the crowd with her soft falsetto.  You sing along right with her, enamored by the surprise.  You look to T’Challa in all the excitement and you catch him smirking at you, nodding along to the music.  You take his hand and raise it up to sway side to side on the track, the electricity you felt being a mix from your idols and the foine dime to the side of you.  You booty bump him playfully to get him loose, he bumps you back.  All worries are cast away as the songs envelope you both, each one drawing you nearer to him, hands clenched the entire time.  

Their set wasn’t long, but you guys stayed for the entirety of it as the night sky cast over the park, stars decorating the sky.  The temperatures became bearable as the sun finally fell.  Torches lit the way for you all to see and walk around.  Once The Internet finished their set and the crowd dispersed, you and T’Challa start scoping for some grub.

“Do they have any wings around here or cheese fries, or somethin?”  you ask out loud.

T’Challa looks over the vendors signs and points, “Ahh, your wish is granted!  I’ll go ahead and order.”

“Wait!  I can’t eat wings AND cheesy fries, I was just playing!”  You weren’t but you wanted to be a lady.

“It’s ok, I’ll get both and we can split.  I’ll be back!”  Breaking from you, he walks on.

You hold your plushie close to you as you wait.  Looking around the park you think this would be a perfect picture moment for the gram.  Pulling out your phone you see you have a text from Tavia.

Ummm, what happened to texting me to make sure things were good though, like….

You text her back.  I was supposed to let you know if things are BAD.  No news is good news right?

Going to the camera, you shoot some scenery shots.  Looking over your options, Tavia texts back.  Well my bad!  Ok, keep doin you boo!

T’Challa comes back with wings in one hand, cheesy fries in the other.  God, you didn’t know what looked better:  the food or him.  And you were hungry regardless.  

“I got some waters too.”  He said, handing you the fries so he could get the waters from under his arm.  

“Ooh, good thinking.  Let’s find a spot to sit.”  you say as you take down a fry.  Walking into the park you find an unoccupied bench and sit.  The faded music in the background was very chill, setting the mood.  T’Challa takes a wing, eating the meat off.  You absentmindedly watch his mouth chew as he ate.  The muscles of his jaw masticating, his concentration to get every bit off the bone.

T’Challa wipes his hands and looks to you, “You were amazing back at the stage.”

You snap out of your trance, thinking over what he said, “Listen, I didn't do anything.  Syd and them, were going off and they haven’t made a bad track yet.  I’m only a fan.”

“It was pretty cool to see you so free spirited.  And I heard you a little.  You have some singing in your background, eh?”

You make a so-so motion with your hand, “I mean, a little bit.  I’ve never done it for an audience but my shower is a long time fan of mine.”

He laughs, “It’s really captivating to watch.  I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were here, but the music brought out another side I really enjoyed seeing.”

“Right!  I appreciate you noticing that.  I wasn't sure either cuz I’m such a homebody and then that guy.  I still can’t wrap my head around you standing up for me that way either.  I never had that happen for me.”

“Oh, Bast!  I haven’t had someone so endearing to do that for.  He doesn't know anything about you, otherwise he would’ve dusted the ground for you to walk.”

You laugh with your hands on your hips mockingly, “Well you haven’t even done that!”

“I can't defend the Queen and clean the quarters!”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand.  “By the way, I heard you say that before.  What is ‘Bast’?”

“Where I'm from that is a religious figure that some follow.  A panther God.”

You cock your head to the side in curiosity, “Ohh do you have rituals, symbolism, and things around it?”

“Of course!  Chants, dances, the works.  Every religion just about does.  Do you follow a Christian God?”

You nod.  “Mhm, Team Jesus right here.”

T’Challa smiles, “Well, we have similar teaching just the practices stray off.”

“I always wondered about what religion I would have, had it not been for, you know.”

“Luckily my family does not know of that life, but I understand.  God is all around us, comes in many forms in my opinion.  I try to give honor wherever I am that things still grow, the earth still spins, things like that.”

You look up at the sky overwhelmed with the sensations of a successful evening, “God, it’s so beautiful out.”

He looks up.  “The city sky does not compare to a Wakandan one, for sure.”

You look at him, his neck stretched back wanting to touch it, “Tell me about it.  Your home.”

He leans back, resting his arm across the back of the bench.  “Words couldn't do it justice.  But just think about the most beautiful scenery you can imagine from nature shows, or pictures in a magazine.  Then amplify it by one hundred.”

“You still have family there?”

T’Challa smiles to himself, “Yes.  Mother, sister, and a bunch of people I consider family.  It’s a close knit community”

“Wow.  Do you miss it?” you ask.

“I do, all the time.  But I haven’t thought about it once tonight.”  Looking up to you, his eyes trained on your face.  He says tossing a wing to the side, looking away in the distance again; clenching his jaws, resting his hands on his thighs.   He looks nervous.

While studying his face you notice a unique detail to his hairline.  “You have the most adorable widow’s peak.  Just look at that.”  You reach over, stopping midway as he looks at you expectantly, “Do you mind?”

He shakes his head.  You lightly feel the curls that bunch to form this hereditary marvel.

“I wish I had one.  It adds so much character to one's appearance.  Like you need any but it’s like a little treasure.”  you say smirking as his curls tickled your fingertips.

While touching it, you look at T’Challa who is focused on you, not saying a word.  Mouth slightly agape, his eyes look to your mouth then back at your eyes.  If there was ever a chance to kiss him, this was probably it.

“Uhh, did you hear me, or…” you say trailing off and chickening out, moving away a little to ease the building arousal between you.

“I want to compliment you now.”  He says reaching for your hand, holding it.  “Your eyes have an innocence that makes me feel unworthy to hold your glance.  But I can’t help but to not look at you.  You remind me of every beautiful trademark that makes a woman special.  I could go on, but I don’t want to offend you.  But I hope I can get to know more of you, so I can verbalize it properly.”  

You look down at his long, knuckley hand holding yours. “T’Challa I don’t want you to talk about me anymore.”

T’Challa looks concerned, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You stomach trembles inside as you try to find the words, “No, I know what you mean.  But this is a lot for me to take in.  I’ll say it’s been a while since I’ve been paid attention to like this, so it’s kind of overwhelming but…” you move his hand and inch closer.  “I’m not a big conversationalist so I just want to...”

Your lips find each other, softly embraced in a kiss made for fairytales.  But you felt so much more than what the kiss portrayed: excitement, joy, aroused at the fact that his face meshed with yours so perfect.  His hand found the small of your back as your hand caressed his face gently to ensure the reality of it all.  Breaking away slowly you both stare into each other, high off on the clouds of infatuation.

“Man, I dig you.”  You say trying to break some of the romantic tension.

He smiles, “And I dig you, umhle.”

You smirk, “What that mean?”

“Something you should be very familiar with: ‘beautiful’”

“I could get used to that definitely.”  you say, embracing him once more.

As much as you could stay on that bench forever, it was getting late and the mosquitoes were being disrespectful.  T’Challa offered to take you home when the time came, but you needed a break or you might invite him up.  You car arrives and you hug him goodbye.  His hands wound around your back firmly, you securing yourself around his shoulders you take a mental note of his frame, so comfortable and meant for you.

“I had a great time, T’Challa,” you whisper in his ear.

“The pleasure was mine, (Y/N).  Let me know when you’ve arrived home safely?”

You nod, giving him a peck on the cheek for good measure.  You get in the car and he closes the door behind you, seeing you off.  You hug your panther plushie tight to your face as you recap the evening.  You were practically buoyant as you rode home, petting your prize tenderly, wishing it was T’Challa in your lap.

Making your way to your apartment, you open the door to see Tavia knocked out on the couch, and even bigger mess of snacks surrounding her and the table as she snores.  You slam the door to wake her up.

She startles awake, looking at you squinty, “Well damn, What time is it?”

“Maybe, midnight by now?”

“Mm, decent hour, must not have given up the draws.  Well go on and tell me about it”  She wipes her eyes, getting a better look at you, noticing your plushie.  “Uh-uh!  You got a prize!!  What did I tell you!”

“Bitch, I didn’t suck his dick.  I’ll talk to you in the morning.”  you say feigning tiredness.

“How fucking dare you!  I aint get no sleep cuz of you, you aint gettin none cuz of me!”

“Girl, you were just knocked out!  Go to bed.”

“But-”

Good night Tavia!”

You close your room door, tossing T’Challa Jr. on your bed.  Kicking your shoes off, taking your hair down, you pull out your phone.

Home safe!  You send to him.  You put your phone down and unclothe to get comfortable.  Suddenly a ding sounds and you dive for your device.  

Glory to Bast.  Sleep well, umhle.

You read it a couple of times before setting your phone back down.  Laying down, you clutch your prized possession T’Challa won you to your chest as the day’s event float in your head: euphorically exhausted.

Part 4

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls  

T’akia

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

Commencement Day

Song of Stevens

My Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@hairhattedghooligan@universalbri @therevolution-willbelive@you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines @airis-paris14 @afraiddreamingandloving @kreolemami

No mans land Tags

afraiddreamingandloving groovybbyy and nyeebey, yall here too! I just can’t tag you for some reason <3</p>

[artificialqueens]

Hush Little Baby (Shalaska) - pureCAMP

A/N: fun fact, my weakness is domesticity and babies. Give me all the babies. I love them. ((also bonus, this probably wont be the last baby fic i end up writing jsksjksjk)) enjoy everyone!!!!! <3

“If you just stop crying for five minutes, I promise I’ll take you to Disneyworld,” Alaska pleaded, cradling a screaming baby with a scrunched up face in her arms, hot tears burning the edges of her own eyes.

It felt like it had been an eternity since Sharon had waved to them from her car as she headed off to work that morning, but it was only mid afternoon. And Alaska didn’t think Minnie had stopped crying since the older woman had gone, convinced that the baby knew her more competent mother had left her alone with the useless, terrified, stressed-out one. She could sense Alaska’s weakness.

“I’ve changed your nappy three times, tried to feed you but - I need you to tell me what you want!” Alaska continued, her voice taking on a tone of complete helplessness. “Why can’t you talk yet?!”

Minnie’s nose wouldn’t stop running, and the way she kept sniffling had Alaska convinced the tiny girl was on the verge of death. In fact, she’d googled all the baby’s symptoms, and was almost one hundred percent convinced that she was, and it was all Alaska’s fault. Google told her so, and Google had never failed her yet. She held the child with one hand as she consulted the website she’d found again, just to make sure that in her panic she hadn’t been making anything up. But there it was, in black and white - the baby was sick, and she was going to die, and Sharon would never talk to Alaska again.

Setting the girl down in her bouncy chair that Alaska had placed on top of the table, she tried once again to make the sobbing child laugh. She tried singing, her usually melodious voice completely gone with the amount of tears that she’d shed. She tried making funny faces, but the fear crept through and only served to make Minnie cry even harder. She tried reading, but the amount of long words in War and Peace had her already frazzled brain melting into complete mush. Eventually Alaska stepped away, gathering her hair into a messy bun on top of her head and securing with a large band. She was completely spent, and had no idea what to try, and it was still only 2pm.

Sharon wouldn’t be home for hours yet if she was going stay late as she usually did, and Alaska hated bothering her at work. The last time she’d tried that, Sharon hadn’t spoken to her for three days. It wasn’t Alaska’s fault that the new washing machine had more controls than an actual space rocket. All she’d been trying to do was surprise Sharon with a clean house and all the laundry done. Instead they’d ended up with a flooded kitchen and a rift in their marriage that took a lot of sex and beautiful lingerie to fix. Since then, Alaska had tried to deal with any domestic mishap on her own - or she’d enlisted the help of one of her friends. That was it! She’d phone - well, she wasn’t sure yet.

Her spirits lifted slightly by the prospect of being able to literally phone a friend in her hour of need, Alaska grabbed her phone and sat down on one of the chairs, using her free hand to gently bounce the baby’s chair as she scrolled through her contacts.

Willam - It was a Wednesday, which meant she’d be… busy.

Courtney - Ditto.

Trixie - She was nice, but Alaska didn’t think she’d appreciate a woman she barely knew screaming down the phone about a baby she’d met once or twice.

Adore - Well, she was little more than a child herself.

That was when the answer hit her. Or rather, assaulted her eyeballs in shades of black and white. Katya always picked up the phone and she was…sensible enough.

As expected, Katya picked up on the first ring, her cheerful voice a complete contrast to the utter anguish Alaska was experiencing. But before she could even finish her greeting, Alaska jumped in, her worst fears spilling out of her mouth and down the phone to Katya.

“Katya, I need your help or else I think my baby is going to die, I know you don’t really like babies but you don’t hate them enough to let them die and I really don’t know what to do and Sharon’s at work and everything has fallen apart because she’s the one who knows her shit and I don’t and Minnie won’t stop crying? Please help. I don’t want Minnie to die!”

Her chest heaved as she finished speaking, not taking a breath in her rush to get all of the words out. There was a pause as Katya digested the barrage of words that had been flung at her, the awkward silence only punctuated by Minnie, still shrieking pitifully from her chair.

“How do you know she’s dying? I don’t want your baby to die either! She’s cute and evil! What’s going on? Tell me more, I need more.” Katya responded, just as urgently as Alaska had.

Thank the Lord! Katya actually understood the crisis. The last thing she had wanted, as had happened at least two too many times before, was for someone to tell her she was just being silly and ignore the problem at hand - the sobbing baby who was definitely dying according to the wisdom of extensive Google searching.

“She’s sick, I know it, and I googled everything that’s wrong with her and I didn’t go on Web MD because Sharon told me that’s not a good place to go, but all the other websites still told me she’s dying! I can’t kill my baby, Katya! I don’t know how to make it better! I can’t let Sharon come home to a dying baby. What do you think I should do?”

This time, Katya didn’t hesitate. “How bad is it? Shit, shit, let’s not let her die. Hurry up, talk to me! We can save her if you’re quick!”

Alaska’s heart raced. “She doesn’t want to eat even when I’ve tried to feed her, and she keeps crying and she’s so red and hot, and her nose is running and she’s been coughing a lot, and her whole body moves when she coughs and - Katya she’s so little. She’s so tiny, Katya. She can’t die.”

“I’m coming over. Stay on the phone, clear the gangways, keep an eye on Minnie so she doesn’t die whilst I’m on my way. We can fix this!”

Alaska didn’t hear the mumbled ‘I hope’ that followed Katya’s statement, which was probably a good thing. Instead, she simply sniffed and turned back to Minnie, her heart twisting at the sight of her.

She really was still tiny. Her little fingers were curled into fists, which occasionally brushed the sides of her face before retreating back into the warmth of the too-long sleeves. Tear droplets clung to her eyelashes, making them appear thicker and darker as she screwed up her face and cried. Her little rosebud lips were parted slightly, just enough for the heartbreaking sobs to escape through. Minnie had always been one of those pretty babies, right from the day she was born, but she just looked so sad and poorly that Alaska didn’t want to look at her.

Taking the tissue box she’d handily placed near Minnie’s chair, she gently dabbed at her face (no wiping - the doctors had told her and Sharon that it could harm the sensitive baby skin) and sighed. Granted, she knew motherhood wasn’t going to be easy. It was a discussion she’d had with Sharon many times before Minnie had been born; lying in bed at night, cuddling on the couch in the evening, during every doctor appointment. They both knew that the first nine months would be nothing compared to the future, but even so Alaska hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

If only Katya would hurry. Alaska was going to go insane if she was left alone any longer. Minnie had calmed a little, but she still made an absurd amount of noise for someone with such small lungs. Alaska continued to bounce her chair a little, trying to find a soothing rhythm for her daughter. As before, nothing seemed to work.

“Why are you too little to tell me why you’re crying?” Alaska murmured, almost to herself, her eyes fixed on Minnie. “Why can’t you talk yet?”

Predictably, Minnie didn’t say anything. She continued crying, stopping for a moment to sneeze and then proceeded to resume her cries louder than before.

“Sharon must speak baby-language, she always knows what to do. I need her to teach me baby-langage.”

After another heavy sigh, Alaska continued to lament. “Why did she have to go to work? Why has she left us?”

Her voice sounded a lot calmer and less shrill than it had when she had been speaking over the phone to Katya, but the worry was still eating away at her insides. What if Minnie really was dying? She couldn’t lose her now. They hadn’t had her for long but she was still the centre of their shared universe. Minnie had Sharon’s eyes and dark curls and that same dimple in her right cheek, and they’d both agreed that everything about her was and would always be perfect. Alaska couldn’t be the one to let it slip away.

She didn’t even want to think about what Sharon would say or do if Minnie slipped away under her watchful eye.

After a long, heavy moment, Alaska heard the front door slam open in the distance, and mere seconds later a blonde hurricane had hurtled into the kitchen, eyes wild and hair akimbo, a plastic bag clutched in her hand as she came to a screeching halt and threw her arms around Alaska. She wasn’t Sharon, but the touch of another adult, someone who could share the burden, soothed Alaska’s battered soul.

“Sorry I took so long, I had to stop and pick up supplies,” Katya told her breathlessly, Russian accent still as thick as the day she’d moved to America. She untangled her arms from around Alaska and started to unpack her carrier bag, Alaska watching in amazement as her friend drew out baby wipes, baby medicine, a thermometer, rum, and more.

“We can’t give the baby rum,” Alaska said in confusion, picking up the bottle and looking at it. Although now she thought about it-

“No, that’s for me. Got to keep my spirits up and my hands steady,” Katya told her with a wheezing laugh, balling the bag up and throwing it into the corner of the immaculate kitchen.  “Right then, let’s take a look at her.” With all the manner of a seasoned doctor, Katya stood over the baby, arms crossed, and looking down at her. Alaska joined her, her expression doubtful.

“What do you think?” she asked, Katya pausing for a moment before letting a long, low whistle.

“I think Google might be right,” was all she replied, her voice filled with sorrow as Alaska’s heart filled with fear.

“You really think she might be dying?” Alaska breathed, not wanting to speak too loudly lest the baby heard her, and fulfilled her own prophecy. Katya shrugged.

“She’s got all the signs of the sweating sickness,” Katya replied. Her limited medical knowledge mostly came from books she’d read on the Tudor period, which didn’t often come handy in the 21st century. “People usually die from that.”

Alaska’s eyes widened as she grasped onto Katya’s arm for strength, fresh tears springing to her eyes.

“I don’t want her to have the sweating sickness,” she cried out, not entirely sure what the sweating sickness was, but knowing from Katya’s grave tone and her harsh words that it wasn’t going to end well. Alaska felt like her entire world was about to come crashing down around her. Just when herself and Sharon had finally gotten their lives the way they wanted them, both with stable careers, and the house of their dreams, and now a baby - the best part of it was going to be whisked away from them before they could even enjoy her. A whole life, gone in the blink of an eye. Alaska started sobbing, her body shaking so violently Katya thought she was about to break into a thousand pieces, the sound of her mother’s cries only serving to make Minnie scream even louder.

“Uh - I’ll pour us both a drink,” Katya said, wanting to escape from Alaska’s anguish. She never dealt well with other people’s emotions, especially when they involved children. Even the cute ones.

Alaska didn’t know how much time passed. All she knew was that she’d managed to sink into a chair, her arms wrapped awkwardly around the screaming child as she tried her best to soothe the girl in what Alaska thought would be her last moments. She vaguely recalled Katya pouring herself several shots of rum, before tearfully sinking down beside Alaska and drunkenly sobbing her own tears for the tiny babe, who she’d actually become quite attached to (although she would never admit that to Sharon - that would make her right, and she’d never allow that.)

In her rum-soaked haze, Katya faintly heard the sound of someone singing a sweet, low lullaby. It took her a while before it sunk in that it wasn’t her brain making it up, it was Alaska, singing softly to her baby, the beautiful voice tinged with sorrow and regret.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Mama’s going to buy you a mockingbird,” Alaska sang, her head resting gently on Minnie’s stomach as her tears soaked the tiny child’s sleepsuit. Katya’s heart broke at the words and the choked tone to Alaska’s voice, as though it was taking everything the woman had to get the words out in the first place.

“-and if that diamond ring turns to brass, mama’s going to buy you a looking glass,” she continued, her voice getting stronger as she warmed to her song. Alaska’s passion had always lay in music, and she almost felt like if she kept singing, she could keep Minnie with her. And if that was the case - well, she’d never stop.  

Katya almost wanted to beg Alaska to stop, the heart wrenching words pulling out emotions in her drunken stupor she almost couldn’t handle. She’d been with the pair through all their ups and downs, through every rough patch and through every highlight, and she was determined to be there at Minnie’s end.

“-and if that cart and bull fall down, you’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town,” Alaska finished, nearly unable to get the last few notes of the song out through her anguished tears. Katya screeched her chair across the floor so she could wrap an arm around the sobbing mother, feeling a dagger of pain shoot into her heart as she caught the tail end of Alaska’s whispered words to her daughter.

“I’m not going to let you go anywhere, I promise,” the woman was saying, her breath catching in her throat at the thought that she might not be able to keep that promise.

Katya opened her mouth to try and say something - utter a word of comfort perhaps, or try and reason that maybe things would be okay - when she heard the door open. Never before had the sound of keys jingling, heels clicking across the floor and doors slamming shut sounded quite so relieving. Both girls turned to face the entrance as Sharon walked in, her face flushed and her eyebrows raised to the sky.

“…Is everything okay?” She tried, flicking back and forth between Alaska’s tearstained face, Katya’s rum bottle, and Minnie’s sniffling. “Katya, what’s this emergency?”

Katya gestured helplessly towards Alaska, who was clinging onto Minnie as tightly as she could. It took her a moment to gather herself together, the silence allowing her a little bit of time to think.

“I’m convinced she’s dying.”

Those four words were the worst she’d ever had to say. Holding her breath, she waited for Sharon’s reaction; tears, or yelling, or abject horror. Alaska was fully prepared to be verbally slaughtered for letting their daughter get so ill, knowing she deserved it. Minnie had been crying and poorly all day, since the morning. Sharon had a right to be mad at her.

But… she wasn’t. Her face remained stoic, her expression calm and steady. She stood still in the doorway and watched Alaska carefully, considering her.

“And why do you think that?” Sharon pressed, her mouth twitching slightly at the corner.

“I do too!” Katya chipped in, hiccuping and frowning. “She’s sick, look at her! I think she’s got the sweating sickness, she has all the symptoms.”

Silence fell for a few short moments. Sharon seemed to be holding back laughter, which was more confusing than any of the other emotions Alaska was feeling. Why was she laughing? Their baby was dying. Or maybe she was hysterical, unable to process anything. That would explain it.

“Katya,” Sharon began, smiling slightly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you, but I really don’t think we need your input. Your qualifications for this are zero. Where is this coming from, anyway?”

Alaska wiped at her eyes and lifted Minnie up slightly so Sharon could see her better. “She really is sick! I don’t know what to do! I googled it, and -”

Sharon held up her hand. “First mistake. I’m disconnecting the wifi tomorrow morning, no googling. Ever. What made you wanna google shit?”

Normally, Alaska would’ve scolded her for swearing in Minnie’s presence, but she was too upset. “She’s been coughing and sneezing all day! She’s really warm, and sweaty, and her nose is running and she hasn’t stopped crying and she has -”

“-A cold.” Sharon interrupted, smiling wider. “She has a cold.”

Alaska shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous! It can’t just be a cold! She’s barely eaten all day, she’s rejected me anytime I’ve tried to give her a bottle, she really has cried every single minute, it can’t just be a plain old cold!”

Sharon shook her head, kicking her heels off across the carpet and joining Alaska on the couch, opposite to Katya. Despite the teasing smile on her face, her eyes were warm and her touch was gentle as she swiped a strand of hair out of Alaska’s face and studied her.

“You had a cold two weeks ago, didn’t you?” She said softly. “You sneezed every five minutes and Minnie thought it was hilarious. She kept laughing at you.”

Alaska nodded silently.

“And then I got it from you last week,” Sharon continued, pretending to be annoyed as she nudged Alaska’s arm. “For a day I had no appetite and then I was all gross and sweaty and coughing. You remember that?”

She nodded again, something akin to realisation dawning on her face.

“She’s just got a cold, probably from me. It only seems worse because she’s so small.”

Alaska sniffed. “Are you sure? Really really sure?”

“One hundred percent.” Sharon assured her. “Here, you want me to have her? I’ll take her.”

Even though there was still a hint of worry in the back of Alaska’s mind, uncomfortably lurking like a bad smell, nothing could warm her heart quite like the sweet image of her wife and her daughter together. Minnie settled in Sharon’s arms after wriggling for a few seconds, still crying as she had before. Sharon tickled gently underneath her chin, laughing as she squirmed before kissing her forehead.

“You’re sure it’s a cold?” Alaska asked again, needing to be completely certain.  

“More than one hundred per cent,” Sharon replied, pressing a gentle kiss to Alaska’s cheek, before wrapping an arm around her still tearful, and completely exhausted wife. “Next time, phone me before you consult Google and Dr Katya.”

Katya opened her mouth to protest, and defend herself against Sharon’s harsh words, but fell silent at a look from the other woman.

“You’ve done quite enough damage,” Sharon told her, knowing it wasn’t really Katya’s fault that Alaska had decided to phone her with her fears, but wanting to lay the blame elsewhere anyway.

“In my defense, she had every symptom of the sweating sickness,” Katya said quickly, Sharon’s teacher voice instilling a sharp sense of fear in her as she rose from her seat and doffed an imaginary cap. “Must be off, Trixie will be wondering where I am,” she said before she departed, knowing even in her slightly drunk state that she was no longer welcome in the newfound domestic scene. Alaska waved her off, mouthing an apology as Katya exited the room backwards.

“You’ll be pleased to know Katya’s sweating sickness had disappeared by the Elizabethan times,” Sharon told her wife, her sensible words alleviating the last of Alaska’s fears for their daughter. “I have no idea where she gets any of her information from, nor why you chose to consult her.”

Alaska shrugged. “You told me not to call you when you’re at work, and Katya was the only one around.”

Sharon let out a disbelieving bark of laughter at Alaska’s words, shaking her head in despair at her wife. “I love you, I really do, but you are an idiot sometimes,” she said fondly, looking down at Minnie and smiling. “Look, she’s fallen asleep. I bet she’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

Alaska looked down too, her eyes roaming over the perfect long lashes resting atop rosy cheeks, small hands clenched into balls with tiny nails digging into her palms, her whole body curled into Sharon. Now she knew she wasn’t going to lose her, Alaska truly thought her heart might burst with the overwhelming love she felt for her tiny daughter.

“We’re the luckiest people in the world,” she said, yawning widely and relaxing into Sharon, letting her eyes flutter shut as the exhaustion from the day took over.

Sharon looked between wife and daughter, before smiling. “I really am.”

[bloojayoolie]

Being Alone, Andrew Bogut, and Apparently: Silly, Sweet SMOKEY A SUPER SWEET CHUNKY HIPPO FRIENDLY, OUTGOING,& VERY SPECIAL HE LOVES OTHER DOGS TOO! 券 ID 51868, 1 YR. OLD.59 LBS. OF JOY WAITING FOR HIS PERFECT FAMILY AT THE BROOKLYN ACC TO BE KILLED – 3/7/2019 <3 Prepare to lose your heart to sweet, lowrider hippo, SMOKEY! Ok, let’s preface this little lead in story by stating unequivocally that photos just DON’T do SMOKEY justice. You HAVE to watch his videos below with his friends in playgroup to truly appreciate what a living, breathing work of art he truly is. Love at first sight, we guarantee it. And you will be laughing and smiling simultaneously as you watch him bounce around, putting up with every sort of nonsense from his pushy friends. He’s a darling chunky, hippo with a pig tail that never stops twirling. He adores people, loves attention, and he’s silly and goofy and super sweet. Honestly, we just can’t get enough of him. You’d be the center of attention with Smokey by your side, that much is certain. If you are looking for a playful, happy go lucky sidekick who has a sterling resume of skills, look no further. Smokey would be perfect in an experienced home (no children under Age 13). If you can give our sweet boy a soft place to land, hurry and PM our page or email us at MustLoveDogsNYC@gmail.com to foster or adopting him now. With my friend Zena in playgroup! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XmQ6wHKAg4 With my friend Spock in playgroup! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BupPj-GmWsA SMOKEY, ID# 51868, 1 Yr. Old, 59 lbs, Neutered male Brooklyn ACC, Large Mixed Breed, Gray / White Owner Surender Reason: Return, 2/19/2019 Shelter Assessment Rating: New Hope Rescue Only Medical Behavior Rating: 1. Green AT RISK MEMO: We feel Smokey would be best set up to succeed if placed with an experienced rescue partner who can reassess behavior once he has acclimated and decompressed in a stable home environment. Smokey was diagnosed with CIRDC and will have to be kept away from other dogs for 14 days as this is a contagious disease. INTAKE NOTES – DATE OF INTAKE, 2/19/2019: Smokey had a high energy level during intake but was very friendly and outgoing. He became over around quickly but was easily redirected. OWNER SURRENDER NOTES – BASIC INFORMATION: Smokey is a 1 year old, medium mixed breed male who was neutered prior to coming into the shelter. He has no known health issues or injuries and has not seen a vet recently. Smokey was in his previous home for about two weeks and was surrendered due to him not being a good match in the home. Smokey lived with 2 adults and 2 children during his 2 weeks. Smokey is friendly and outgoing when meeting new people. Smokey lived with a 5 and a 13 year old in the home, he was playful and energetic around them. Smokey has some resource guarding behavior with food so he should be housed in a home with older children. (Note: When the smaller child in the home approached Smokey while he was eating Smokey turned and bit him.) Smokey has passed dogs when on a walk and was relaxed and curious when passing them. Smokey has not spent time around cats before. Smokey is not bothered by having his toys touched but has displayed resource guarding around food. Smokey has bitten one family member in the past. He is housetrained and has a very high energy level. He has never had a medical issue. Other Notes: Smokey allowed his owner to bathe him and enjoyed being brushed. Smokey's owner had not trimmed his nails in the past, and he is trained not to go on the couch. Smokey does not alert bark when guests enter the home. For a New Family to Know: Smokey is described as being friendly, affectionate and playful. He has been an indoor dog, likes to play with all kinds of toys, especially toy balls, eats wet and dry food and sleeps anywhere in the home. Smokey is well behaved when left alone in the house, has not been crate trained and walks both on and off leash at night when there is no one else around. He will wander to go to the bathroom but comes right back when done. SHELTER ASSESSMENT SUMMARIES – Date of assessment: 1/7/2019 LEASH WALKING Strength and pulling: none Reactivity to humans: none Reactivity to other dogs: none Reactivity other: none Leash walking comments: Smokey walks nicely on leash, walked calmly through a group of children. SOCIABILITY Loose in room: Moderately social Call over: Approaches with coaxing Sociability comments: Sniffed the room at first then approached the assessor with soft body. HANDLING Soft handling: Seeks contact Exuberant handling: Seeks contact Handling comments: Social, leaning into pets AROUSAL Jog: Engages in play with handler, soft Tug: Tugs, drops toy. Comments: Follows, becomes a bit playful with toy. RAISED VOICE Approaches (loose) Comments: None TOY No response Comments: None PLAYGROUP NOTES – DOG TO DOG SUMMARIES: 1/5: When introduced off leash to male and female dogs, Smokey engages in bouncy play. INTAKE BEHAVIOR - Date of intake:: 2/19/2019 Summary:: Friendly, outgoing, active MEDICAL BEHAVIOR - Date of initial:: 2/19/2019 Summary:: Social, loose bodied, a bit mouthy though allowed all handling ENERGY LEVEL:: Smokey is reported to have a high energy level in the care center in line with what is reported in his previous home environment. We recommend daily mental and physical stimulation as a way to direct his energy and enthusiasm. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: New Hope Only Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: No children (under 13),Place with a New Hope partner Recommendations comments:: No children (under 13): Due to Smokey's previous bite to a child in his former home, we feel he may be best set up to succeed in an experienced adult only home environment at this time. Place with a New Hope partner: Because of Smokey's previous bite incident, we feel he would be best set up to succeed if placed with an experienced rescue partner who can reassess behavior once he has acclimated and decompressed in a stable home environment. We recommend only utilizing force-free, reward based training when introducing or exposing Smokey to new and unfamiliar situations. Potential challenges: : Bite history (human),Resource guarding,Basic manners/poor impulse control,Social hyperarousal,Mouthiness/poor bite inhibition Potential challenges comments:: Smokey was reported to have a bitten a child when approached while eating. Please see handout on resource guarding Smokey has been observed to jump up high and mouth handlers, please see handouts on Mouthiness, Social hyperarousal and Basic manners. MEDICAL EXAM NOTES 01/05/2019 [DVM Intake] DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: 1yr Microchip noted on Intake? N Microchip Number (If Applicable): History: stray- found tied to pole outside Subjective: BAR Observed Behavior - attention seeking, likes pets and treats, compliant for exam Evidence of Cruelty seen - N Evidence of Trauma seen - N Objective T = DNP P = WNL R = WNL BCS 6/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean and cropped AU, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: clean adult dentition PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Tense but non painful, no masses palpated U/G: Intact male- both testes in scrotum MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat; ears cropped AU CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: Externally normal Assessment: apparently healthy ~1yr MI dog; cropped ears Prognosis: excellent Plan: ok for surgery and placement SURGERY: Okay for surgery 01/06/2019 Hx: Came into shelter on 1/4; went to foster on 1/5. Foster reports that pt vomited 4x overnight. The vomit contained food, and the last time, there were also spots of blood. He had no appetite overnight, but he did drink a large amount of water. S: Alert, walks well on leash, allows all handling, wags tail continually O: BAR-H, BCS 5/9, MMs pink and moist, CRT <2 sec EENT: No discharge OU, AU, nose. Scant tartar. PLNs: Not significantly enlarged. H/L: NSR, NMA. Eupnic, quiet lung sounds. No coughing or sneezing. Abd: Soft, no pain on palpation, no masses palpated, not distended M/S/I: Amb x4. No skin lesions noted. UG: Male intact, testicles soft and symmetrical Neuro: Alert and appropriate, no sign neurological deficiencies A: Hx vomiting - R/O stress vs. diet change vs. vaccine reaction vs. GI foreign body vs. other cause P: CBC/chemistry 1088 01/06/2019 CBC: Hct: 54.5% WBC 21 k/ul . Neuts 18 k/ul Plt 405 k/ul Chemistry: Glucose 121 mg/dl BUN 19 mg/dl, creat 1.2 mg/dl Cl slightly low dl at 108 (ref 109-122 mmol/l) Unremarkable proteins, liver values ASSESSMENT: 1. Largely unremarkable bloodwork. Slight stress leukogram. Normal liver and kidney values. No sign of underlying disease. No further vomiting noted today. PLAN: 1. Feed small amount this evening; if pt holds that down, okay to give another small meal a few hours later. 2. Rx sucralfate 1 gm PO BID - this will protect the lining of Smokey's esophagus and stomach from further vomit. If pt doesn't vomit any more, then no need to give. If pt does continue vomiting, then give sucralfate twice daily x5 days. You will need to dissolve the tablet in water and then administer orally with a syringe - you can try adding some sugar to the solution make it more of a positive experience. 1088 01/06/2019 Pt was given some more food today and he vomited again. Start Sucralfate, famotidine, Proviable. Consider abd rads if vomiting continues. 1088 01/08/2019 S: Bright, walks around kennel and room O: Today, pt had multiple episodes of retching or coughing/hacking with production of foam/food afterwards. Pt was happy to eat the vomitus afterwards. This occurred several times while pt was chewing a rawhide, and also several times while pt was wandering around inside a room, with no food. A: Observed vomiting - R/O secondary to tracheal irritation from leash vs. early CIRDC vs. tracheal stricture/narrowing vs. other congenital disease P: Neck and abd rads tomorrow at time of neuter (+/- neuter itself) 1088 01/08/2019 Was this dog a cryptorchid? No, 2 testicles palpated If so describe - Pre scrotal Incision Spermatic Cord Ligation with: 0 monocryl with 2 Miller's knots Sub Q closure: 0 Monocryl with in a subcutaneous to intradermal closure pattern Skin closure? Yes A linear green tattoo was placed parallel to the incision site 1619 01/08/2019 Pre-op exam S: Alert, friendly, allows all handling O: BAR-H, MMs pink and moist, CRT <2 sec EENT: No discharge OU, AU, nose. PLNs: Not significantly enlarged. H/L: NSR, NMA. Eupnic, quiet lung sounds. Abd: Soft, no pain on palpation, no masses palpated, not distended M/S/I: Amb x4. No skin lesions noted. UG: Male intact, testicles soft and symmetrical Neuro: Alert and appropriate, no sign neurological deficiencies A: Hx vomiting - R/O brachycephalic syndrome vs. other cause Short-term prognosis: Good-fair P: Neck, chest and abd rads today +/- neuter 1088 01/08/2019 Neck, thoracic and abd rads, 2 views each The trachea gets narrower just inside the thoracic inlet. No evidence of redundant tracheal membrane or other stricture. Unable to identify the esophagus. The lungs and heart are unremarkable. The stomach and small intestines are gas-filled. The colon contains feces. The liver and spleen are unremarkable. The pelvis is heavily rotated due to pt's musculature. ASSESSMENT: -Hypoplastic trachea -Hypoplastic trachea is a component of brachycephalic syndrome and suggests the presence of other components such as an elongated soft palate. This may be causing pt's retching/vomiting after eating. Alternatively there may be an esophageal disease that we cannot see on rads, such as esophageal stricture vs. motility disorder vs. other. -No airway disease is noted that would interfere with pt's neuter today 1088 01/09/2019 Owner was here to pick Smokey up after surgery around 7pm but he was very groggy and he did not want to walk. Vitals all wnl HR=108 bpm RR=eup MM= pink & moist, CRT <2s Pre-scrotal incision CDI with no active bleeding or discharge Gave him Antisedan 0.21 mL IM. 02/19/2019 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: 1-2yrs Microchip noted on Intake? yes Microchip Number (If Applicable): 981020025133862 History: Adoption return >30d Subjective: Dog is BARH Observed Behavior - immediately social - jumps up to greet, body loose, wagging tail, little restraint needed for exam, gets mouthy when overstimulated, but immediately releases and calms down when corrected using a verbal 'no' Evidence of Cruelty seen - no Evidence of Trauma seen - no Objective T = NA P = wnl R = pant BCS 5/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: Healthy adult dentition PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: Male neutered MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: NE Assessment: Apparently healthy Prognosis: Good-Excellent Plan: On DOH hold SURGERY: Already neutered 2/03/2019 SO: BAR, good appetite, unremarkable elimination Multiple sneezes heard during assessment along with mild serous nasal discharge present Remainder of visual exam unremarkable MSI visually unremarkable A: CIRDC P: Proviable 1 cap PO 5 days Enrofloxacin 10mg/kg PO SID for 14 days Cerenia 2mg/kg PO SID for 3 days Move to ISO 1619 *** TO FOSTER OR ADOPT *** SMOKEY IS NOW RATED NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY. You must fill out applications with New Hope Rescues to foster or adopt him. He cannot be reserved online at the ACC ARL, nor can he be direct adopted at the shelter. PLEASE HURRY AND MESSAGE OUR PAGE FOR ASSISTANCE! HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account \ Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications. Shelter contact information Phone number (212) 788-4000 Email adoption@nycacc.org Shelter Addresses: Brooklyn Shelter: 2336 Linden Boulevard Brooklyn, NY 11208 Manhattan Shelter: 326 East 110 St. New York, NY 10029 Staten Island Shelter: 3139 Veterans Road West Staten Island, NY 10309 *** NEW NYC ACC RATING SYSTEM *** Level 1 Dogs with Level 1 determinations are suitable for the majority of homes. These dogs are not displaying concerning behaviors in shelter, and the owner surrender profile (where available) is positive. Some dogs with Level 1 determinations may still have potential challenges, but these are challenges that the behavior team believe can be handled by the majority of adopters. The potential challenges could include no young children, prefers to be the only dog, no dog parks, no cats, kennel presence, basic manners, low level fear and mild anxiety. Level 2 Dogs with Level 2 determinations will be suitable for adopters with some previous dog experience. They will have displayed behavior in the shelter (or have owner reported behavior) that requires some training, or is simply not suitable for an adopter with minimal experience. Dogs with a Level 2 determination may have multiple potential challenges and these may be presenting at differing levels of intensity, so careful consideration of the behavior notes will be required for counselling. Potential challenges at Level 2 include no young children, single pet home, resource guarding, on-leash reactivity, mouthiness, fear with potential for escalation, impulse control/arousal, anxiety and separation anxiety. Level 3 Dogs with Level 3 determinations will need to go to homes with experienced adopters, and the ACC strongly suggest that the adopter have prior experience with the challenges described and/or an understanding of the challenge and how to manage it safely in a home environment. In many cases, a trainer will be needed to manage and work on the behaviors safely in a home environment. It is likely that every dog with a Level 3 determination will have a behavior modification or training plan available to them from the behavior department that will go home with the adopters and be made available to the New Hope Partners for their fosters and adopters. Some of the challenges seen at Level 3 are also seen at Level 1 and Level 2, but when seen alongside a Level 3 determination can be assumed to be more severe. The potential challenges for Level 3 determinations include adult only home (no children under the age of 13), single pet home, resource guarding, on-leash reactivity with potential for redirection, mouthiness with pressure, potential escalation to threatening behavior, impulse control, arousal, anxiety, separation anxiety, bite history (human), bite history (dog) and bite history (other). New Hope Rescue Only Dog is not publicly adoptable. Prospective fosters or adopters need to fill out applications with New Hope Partner Rescues to save this dog.

[dralentines-day]

Gift #32, @seefin

I can't SEE myself ever FINishing this gift - because I never want it to end! @seefin , good thing it’s for you!

Our gifter says:

“HAPPY DRALENTINE'S DAY!!!

I hope you have an absolutely fabulous day and that you enjoy my little gift. I got the idea from a Tumblr post about how the OP's grandparents met. I tweaked it a bit and it kinda ran away from me! Anyway, it's silly, fluffy and fun so I hope you like it!

Loads of Love! xxx”

Did I Say That Out Loud? - Muggle AU.  When Draco runs into his Aunt and cousin on the way to work he doesn't expect the encounter to end with him somehow accidentally scoring a date with quite possibly the hottest guy on Earth. 9k,

Tags: no smut, some innuendos and heavy petting

Draco checked his watch as he turned the corner into Hyde Park, sweeping his blond hair out of his eyes and pulling his grey-knit scarf tighter around his pale neck. It was early, just gone nine am, so it wasn't as if he needed to take the shortcut but he liked to enjoy the scenic route, especially on days like this when the morning air was crisp and the weak winter sunlight seeped through the hazy clouds.

He knew Pansy would already be waiting for him with a hot, freshly brewed vanilla latte and all the gory details from the previous night, where she had been subjected to yet another ridiculously over the top dinner party thrown by her parents for no other reason than they wanted to. Pansy had tried to get Draco to go with her, but Draco preferred to hear about these things rather than experience them himself. He was sure it would offer some amusement to his otherwise bland Saturday morning.

He had just strode past the kid's play area, which was already teeming with shrieking children running all over the place, apparently not deterred by the brisk February breeze, when a familiar voice called his name. He turned and saw an older woman with greying hair pulled into a loose bun, wrapped against the cold in a dark green overcoat, wave at him.

He smiled in surprise and they met at the edge of the play-park where she folded his taller frame into a warm hug.

"I thought that was you." She said cheerfully, pulling back to gaze up at him.

"Auntie." He replied warmly. "How are you?"

Andromeda Tonks was a stately woman. Sharply dressed, with an air of respect that had you instantly standing straighter, she wasn't one to be trifled with.

"I am very well, thank you. Enjoying the sunny weather." She returned, smoothing back the wayward strands of hair that caught the gentle wind.

Draco smiled inward. Only in England could temperatures of four degrees and a slight glimpse of the sun be considered 'sunny'.

"How are your parents?" She asked.

"Mother is well." Draco responded carefully.

She raised an eyebrow. "And your father?" She continued gently.

Draco winced and glanced away, staring out over the dewy grass.

"He is much the same."

Andromeda patted his arm sympathetically but did not say anything, which Draco was grateful for. What does one say when one's father is in a terminal coma after being brutally attacked by unknown gang members for a business deal gone wrong.

Draco didn't like to linger on such thoughts and quickly cast about for a distraction, which arrived in the form of a small bundle of energy in a bright yellow anorak and an eye-wateringly turquoise bobble-hat jammed over his sandy hair. The little boy shouted out with glee and threw himself at Draco, almost knocking them both to the ground with the force of his enthusiasm.

"Teddy!" Andromeda scolded as Draco let out a surprised huff of air and instinctively threw out his arm to steady himself, grabbing hold of his aunt's shoulder.

"It's alright," Draco assured her, patting the top of the child's wool covered head. "No harm done."

Andromeda hummed, unconvinced as Teddy smiled sheepishly up at his grandmother, but let the incident go.

"How are you Teddy?" Draco asked the exuberant child. He didn't feel especially comfortable around children, never knowing what to say to them, but with Teddy's eager personality and infectious grin it was hard not to like the bouncy six year old.

"I'm great!" He beamed, and held up his hand to show them the little green leaf, his words tumbling out fast in his excitement. "Look what I found! Harry says its a four-leafed collver! No, clover. They're lucky!"

But before either adult could respond, and with the mental dexterity only children possess, Teddy turned to his grandmother, his mind already on the next order of business.

"Nanny, can I have an ice-cream?" He asked hopefully, his honey-gold eyes wide and pleading. He pointed to an ice-cream truck parked on the other side of the play area, where a small crowd of children hovered nearby. "Harry said I could have one if I asked nicely and if you said I could. Please?"

A low chuckle sounded from behind them, and the voice that followed was warm and rich, sending a shiver of heat down Draco's spine.

"Shameless you are, Teddy-bear. I said it was too cold but he kept insisting, so I told him he had to ask you."

Draco turned and froze.

Because holy shit!

Surely this was a god amongst mortals?

Like Draco, the man was tall, lean and probably around the same age as Draco, but that's where the similarities ended. Where Draco was pale and delicate, this man was the exact opposite; vibrant colours and strong angles, with warm, golden bronzed skin, wide pine-green eyes framed with thick lashes, a jaw that could cut glass covered in the most sinful five o'clock shadow, and a shock of ebony hair that defied gravity. He was wearing a leather jacket and a pair of faded, dark blue jeans which hugged his thighs like a second skin.

Draco wasn't sure what expression was on his face in that moment, but it must have been just as slack-jawed as he felt because the man - Harry, the tiny part of his mind that wasn't completely blank supplied helpfully - met his wide-eyed gaze with his own amused grin, his eyes flitting appreciatively over Draco's form.

Draco shuddered, barely suppressing a whimper. Oh, fuck me.

Teddy giggled and clapped his hands over his ears, beside him Andromeda pressed her fingers to her mouth to hide her sudden smile, and Harry's eyes widened a touch before he grinned cheekily.

"Only if you let me buy you dinner first?" He said, tilting his head forward, his hair falling over his eyes.

Draco frowned, confused for a moment, before realisation dawned and horror seeped in. His eyes slid shut in mortification and he prayed to every deity or celestial being who might be listening to make the ground swallow him whole.

It didn't work.

"Please tell me I didn't say that out loud." He whispered, feeling a flush spread over his skin.

"Unfortunately, you did." His aunt replied, failing to hide the mirth from her voice.

Draco opened his eyes, wishing he could hide and never show his face ever again. Obviously, the lack of caffeine coupled with an insanely attractive man was enough to reduce him to a drooling simpleton.

"You said a bad word, Uncle." Teddy sniggered delightedly.

"Uncle?" Harry sounded confused, but Draco didn't dare meet the gaze he could feel burning a hole in his temple. "I didn't know Tonks had siblings."

Andromeda huffed at the use of her daughter's maiden surname name rather than her given, but answered Harry's implied question.

"She doesn't. Draco is my nephew, Narcissa's son." She smiled warmly at Draco.

Draco took strength from his aunts encouraging expression and turned to Harry. Drawing himself to his full height, he ignored the blush still staining his cheeks and held out his hand.

"Draco Malfoy. Pleased to make your acquaintance." Draco winced internally at the posh accent that coloured his voice when he was stressed or nervous.

Harry smirked at the overly polite tone and clasped Draco's outstretched hand, his palm warm and calloused.

"Harry Potter." He returned, then grinned brashly. "And the pleasure is all mine, I'm sure."

Draco felt his blush deepen and took a quick step back glancing at Andromeda. She was smiling, her expression so like her daughter's impish grin Draco did a double-take.

“Come Teddy, lets get you your ice-cream.”

Teddy whooped with joy and took off towards the van, ignoring Andromeda's call to wait and throwing a quick “Bye, Draco!” over his shoulder.

Andromeda sighed and shook her head.

“Well, I'll see you soon I expect, Draco dear.” She said, pulling Draco into a quick hug. She nodded to Harry and followed her exuberant grandchild.

“We'll be just over there.” She called to Harry as she walked away.

Draco watched her leave, and feeling Harry's gaze, he looked up, meeting his vibrant green eyes.

“That was subtle.” Harry chuckled, taking a step closer.

Draco swallowed, forcing himself not to step back. “I apologise for my earlier words. It was inappropriate.”

“That's a shame,” Harry murmured, talking yet another step closer. He was close enough now that Draco could smell his woodsy, cedar cologne. “I was actually sincere in my offer of dinner.

At that, Draco stepped back in surprise. “You've only just met me.”

Harry smiled charmingly, his lips curving crookedly, a dimple winked at Draco.

“Then all the more reason.” He closed in, his hand reaching to curl gently around Draco's wrist. Draco started at the contact, his eyes darting down to where Harry's fingers were pressed against his skin. He blinked rapidly, wondering if Harry could feel his pulse racing.

Judging by Harry's smile, he could. “I would like to get to know you.”

Harry's gaze was intense. Draco had never been looked at like that, like he was the sole focus of another person. They were surrounded by over-excited children and everyday Londoners, but somehow Harry made him feel like they were the only two on the planet.

“Why?”

Harry straightened, tilting his head. “I'm intrigued.” He said simply.

Draco glanced away, his eyes resting on Teddy who was pointing at one of the pictures on the side of the truck. It wasn't that he was unaware that he was attractive, he was quite used to both male and female attention in that regard – although the latter wasn't always entirely welcome. It was just he had never been pursued so intently.

Draco could feel Harry's gaze on him, waiting for his answer. To say he was flattered by Harry's attention was an understatement, Harry was just his type; tall, dark and mysterious – as cliché as that was – and Draco couldn't deny his interest.

His gaze slid back to Harry, who was watching him, his expression so cautiously hopeful Draco had to bite his lip to stop his laughter from bubbling out. Harry's eyes flickered quickly to where his lip was caught between his teeth and Draco couldn't hold back his smile any longer.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” Harry's voice was full of barely suppressed delight.

“Yeah.” Draco nodded, laughing slightly when Harry's face lit up at Draco's acceptance.

“Okay, Great!” He beamed, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his head, causing his hair to fluff up further. “Awesome! That's really, really awesome.”

Draco grinned and Harry coughed, a blush appearing on his face. “Or something, you know, a little less over-enthusiastic.”

Draco smirked at Harry's embarrassed demeanour. Gone was the suave, confident man who had seemed so assured of himself, and in his place was a man who was just as nervous as he was. Draco was glad he wasn't the only one affected by the other's proximity.

“I'm okay with enthusiasm.” Draco smiled, lowering his lashes demurely. Harry licked his lips and Draco's eyes followed the movement, heat curl in his belly. Their eyes met and the air felt thick, only the sound of screaming children stopped Draco from pouncing on the darker man.

He took a step back and sucked in an unsteady breath, closing his eyes against the intensity of Harry's stare.

When he spoke, Harry's voice was rough. “Tonight? At eight?”

Draco's eyes slid open slowly and he nodded, noting that Harry had also moved back.

“Where?”

He didn't care if it sounded eager, in his opinion eight was too far away. But he supposed he should be grateful for the opportunity to take a breather and get his head back on straight.

Harry pulled out a sharpie from his pocket and a scrap bit of paper that looked like it had been torn from a notebook and quickly scribbled a name and address and handed it to Draco. His handwriting was fast and spiky, and leaned to the left suggesting quick thought and creativity. Draco didn't recognise the name of the pub, but the address was familiar and he knew he would be able to find it.

Draco looked back at Harry who snapped the lid back onto the pen with a sharp click and stuffed it inside his pocket.

“Is that okay?” He asked, nodding to the paper in Draco's long fingers. “Its a great place. The ambiance is nice and the food even better.”

“It sounds great.” Draco assure him, folding the piece of paper carefully into his pocket. “Shall I meet you there?”

“If you prefer.” Harry nodded.

It was something Draco usually insisted on for the first two or three dates. One never knew when a date could go sour and having a reliable getaway was a comfort. He seriously doubted, however, that he would need to with Harry, but it was always better to have a just in case.

Their conversation was broken by a child's voice calling out to Harry. They both turned to see Teddy waving impatiently at Harry.

“I'm being summoned.” Harry laughed. He was more relaxed, the cheeky smile back in place now he had Draco's confirmation. “I should probably go before his Highness gives himself an aneurysm.”

Draco nodded, smiling internally at the exasperated fondness in Harry's voice.

“Alright.” Draco's voice was amused without him giving it permission to be so. “I'll see you tonight.”

Harry nodded and took a step back, and then another, backing up slowly. He gave Draco a strange half wave and promptly turned around, his pace quickening. He'd only gone a few paces when he abruptly turned back around, a cocky smirk quirking his lips.

“That blue looks good on you.” He called, gesturing to Draco's powder blue jacket with one hand, the other running once more through his already dishevelled hair. He ignored the other parents and children around them, the corner of his eyes crinkling in a way that was far to adorable for a grown man, for God's sake. “It brings out your eyes.”

And with that he turned back around. Draco stared at his retreating form, not even bothering to pretend he wasn't watching Harry's arse in those snug jeans, feeling the side-ways looks he was getting and not caring one bit. He smiled as he watched Harry pick up a giggling Teddy, hoisting him up from under the shoulders and placing him on his own. Teddy shrieked with laughter, his fingers tangling themselves into Harry's wild mane for balance as Harry bounced playfully on the balls of his feet, gripping Teddy's ankles. Beside them Andromeda laughed, one hand instinctively reaching up to hover behind Teddy in case he fell.

Draco took in the happy scene for a moment, letting it fill him with a warmth that could not be touched by the February cold. Then, burrowing down into his scarf, he turned and pushed his fingers into his pocket, felling the edges of the paper crinkle against his skin.

_____---_____---_____

“For the last time Pans, I said no.”

Draco wove through the different exhibitions, making a note on his clipboard of what was already being showcased. They were going to have a new shipment over the weekend and he needed to make sure he was ready to deal with it come Monday morning.

Something that was becoming increasingly difficult to do with his so called best friend hounding him since he made the mistake of revealing why he had been late to work.

“Oh, spare me Draco.” She huffed, tucking her alarmingly razor-straight black hair behind one ear.

“What part of No do you not understand?” He questioned, his eyes on his clipboard. He didn't need to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes at him.

“You are going to say yes.” Pansy stated, tapping her immaculate fingernails on his clipboard to get him to look at her.

 “I'm really not.” He dismissed, turning to walk back to his office.

He heard the click of her heels against the polished oak flooring as she followed him. She'd obviously realised she was getting nowhere with this and tried a different tactic.

“Please?”

He rolled his eyes, safe in the knowledge that she couldn't see him. “No.”

He dropped the clipboard onto his assistant's desk as he walked passed, tapping it meaningfully in a way that told her it was to be done immediately, and with meticulous care. She nodded quickly, her ponytail bobbing.

“Why not?” Pansy whined, sounding a lot like her teenage self rather than the successful young woman she had come to be. “You know you'll have more fun! Let me help.”

“Its just a dinner date. I'm not going to go through my entire wardrobe.” He didn't bother closing the door as he walked into his office, knowing it wouldn't slow her down in the slightest.

Pansy scoffed, crossing the threshold and muttered under her breath, “Because that would take months.”

Draco glared at her as he sank onto his high-backed leather office chair at his black monochrome and glass desk. She sniffed, unperturbed by his chilling expression, and settled onto the side of his desk, crossing one leg primly over the other.

“It's not just a dinner date though. I've never seen you like this. You've been distracted all morning, dropping things and forgetting stuff.” She peered down at him, concern and confused wonder in her eyes.

“He must be something else.” She murmured.

Draco blushed under her scrutiny and glanced away, his eyes falling on his assistant typing diligently at her computer. Pansy suddenly sat back abruptly, her expression of concern melting back into its usual upturned look.

“Please?”

Draco groaned, leaning back in his chair and throwing his arm over his eyes. “For God's sake, No!”

“Please!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“No!”

“I can do this all day, you know.” She threatened.

Draco ignored her, pinching the bridge of his nose with his long, slender fingers.

“Please, please, please, please, please, please, plea-”

“Okay!” Draco cried, giving in, sitting up and throwing his hands up to stop her mid-flow. “Okay, damn it! Fine!”

“Yay!” She squealed triumphantly, clapping her hands together. She leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I'll be there when you get home.” She promised, hopping down from the desk and ignoring his half-hearted protest.

“Ciao, darling.” She called over her shoulder, grabbing her – fake, of course – fur-lined chocolate brown coat from the coat-rack as she passed. He heard her call out a chirpy farewell to his assistant, pleased to have gotten her way once more.

Draco collapsed back against his chair, barely suppressing a groan and wondering fervently if it was too early to break out the whiskey.

A stifled giggle broke through his contemplation. His assistant was standing by his door, a black folder in her hands and a badly concealed grin on her face.

“What is it, Myrtle?” He sighed, feeling a headache start to brew behind his eyes.

She managed to control her expression into a much more professional smile.

“Your two o'clock is here, sir.” she said, adjusting her glasses and hurrying forward to place the thick folder on his desk. He glanced down at the embossed script on the front of the folder and sighed again. He couldn't reschedule this one.

He stood and adjusted his waistcoat. “Alright,” he nodded, “Show them in.”

____---____---____

Draco peered out of the windscreen at the establishment across the street, Pansy sat in the driver's seat after insisting (and once again winning) to drive him over. Draco hadn't had the energy – or the mental concentration with every minute that slid by – to argue with her.

She was quiet for once, letting Draco gather his thoughts. His mind flitted back to that morning, wondering if Harry really was everything he remembered. Surely his caffeine deprived brain had exaggerated most of it. No-one could have eyes that green, right?

“If you're thinking about backing out, I will personally kick your skinny arse, Draco Malfoy.” Pansy stated, obviously getting tired of the silence.

“I'm not.” Draco muttered, running a hand through his silken tresses.

“You better not.” Pansy said darkly. “This guy sound far to good to be true.”

Draco tilted his head back against the headrest. “Exactly.”

He could feel Pansy's gaze boring into the side of his temple, but did not turn to meet it. That was until her hand shot out to slap him across the chest.

“Ow!” He yelped, sitting bolt upright and rubbing his torso. “What the Hell was that for?”

“Don't you dare start getting maudlin! Malfoys do not do insecurities. They do not mope or sulk, and they definitely do not let something great and potentially life changing pass them by!” She declared sharply.

He stared at her.

“You've been spending far to much time with Mother.” He muttered under his breath.

She smirked at him.

“Come on Drey, put on your big boy panties, march in there and knock that guy's socks off.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that.” He glared at her.

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him before silently pointing at the pub, a wordless order to get the hell out.

He chuckled internally at her expression, but opened the door. She was right, he was being pathetic.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her soft cheek, watching her soften as he murmured a quiet, “Thank you, Pansy. Where would I be without you?”

“I shudder to think about it.” She giggled. “Now, go blow him away.” And waggling her eyebrows suggestively added, “And if you're lucky, actually blow him.”

Draco groaned, “That was awful, Pans. Truly.”

He climbed out, shivering slightly in the winter night. He heard the driver door open and glanced back to see Pansy's head pop up over the roof of the car, a mischievously coy expression on her features.

“I mean it, Draco. I better not see you in the morning. I will be most displeased.”

Draco shook his head in amusement.

“I'll keep that in mind.” He drawled.

He turned towards the pub as she slid back into the car, the door slamming and the engine humming to life. He glanced up and down the car-lined road before crossing to the other side, jogging slightly as he reached the door, his body craving the warmth that emanated from the pub.

Inside was cosy and rustic with exposed brickwork and low-hanging beams. The interior was furbished with browns, reds, and golds giving off a homely and welcoming feel. Draco spotted Harry almost immediately amongst the crowd, lounging carelessly against the bar chatting to a busty red-headed barmaid. Before he could make any conscious decision on how he felt about that, it was rendered moot as Harry straightened, a grin splitting his face wide as he noticed Draco walking towards him. Draco pushed away the fluttery feeling in his chest at the sight and couldn't help his own grin from curving his lips.

Apparently his memory was not only intact, but also woefully understated. If anything, Harry's eyes were somehow greener than he remembered. How on earth was that possible?

“You came!”

Draco shivered at the low baritone of Harry's voice. Could this guy get any fucking hotter? Like Draco he'd obviously changed clothes for the date. His leather jacket was folded over a nearby barstool, his legs clad in charcoal grey, thigh-hugging jeans, and a dark green button down with the sleeves rolled over his elbows was taunt across his broad shoulders.

“Of course.” Draco replied, shrugging off the coat Harry had complimented that morning. Pansy had insisted he wore it. “Why wouldn't I?”

Harry's eyes followed the movement; taking in the snug, white turtleneck and sharp, black slacks, before snapping back to meet Draco's. Draco smirked internally, vowing not to tell Pansy she had been right. She didn't need her ego fluffed any further.

“I had kind of convinced myself you were just humouring me.” He shrugged, his fingers curling around the neck of a beer bottle sat on the bar-top, his thumb circling the rim.

“But still you came?” Draco questioned curiously, pushing his own sleeves up to his elbows.

“Well, if there was a slight chance you might turn up, I would have kicked myself if I had missed you.” Harry chuckled quietly. His eyes slid once more down Draco's form, taking his time and evidently not caring if Draco caught him.

“What would you have done if I hadn't showed?” Draco asked, mimicking Harry's relaxed pose against the bar.

“Nursed a large glass of whiskey before heading home to brood.” Harry flashed him a smile and bringing his beer to his lips, “Speaking of which, what are you having?”

“Same as you is fine.” Draco nodded to the bottle in Harry's hand, noting the abrupt change of subject, but letting it slide.

Harry gestured to the woman he had been talking to earlier, who quickly pulled out another bottle, expertly popping the lid off and placing it in front of Draco. He nodded his thanks and she smiled at him flirtatiously, before turning to Harry.

“You want me to put that on your tab, Honey?” She asked, already typing up the addition.

“Thanks, Rosmerta.” Harry threw her a smile as she walked away to tend to other patrons.

“Come here often?” Draco queried teasingly, lifting his bottle to his lips.

“Sometimes,” Harry acquiesced, his gaze following the movement, “Two of my friends own this place.”

Before either of them could say any more, a dark-skinned girl approached them wearing a uniform of dark jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a small apron. She smiled professionally and greeted them politely.

“Your table is ready now, Mr Potter.” She motioned for them to follow her.

Harry grabbed his jacket and his half-drunken beer and gestured for Draco to go first. Draco wondered if Harry was just being polite or if he was using the opportunity to check out his arse. He found he didn't really mind if that was the case.

The waitress led them out of the main room towards the back of the adjoining lounge where it was quieter. The lighting was dimmer, more intimate, the background music softer. She stopped at square booth in the corner and waited for them to get settled before asking if they wanted any more drinks.

Harry glanced to Draco who nodded. "Another beer, please." He smiled, "And a Coke for me, Romilda."

The girl quickly wrote down the order on her mini jotter, ducking her head slightly in an attempt to hide the blush that spread across her cheeks at Harry's use of her name. Draco shot Harry a look, who rolled his eyes slightly but showed no other sign that he had noticed.

Romilda lifted her head, her professional smile back in place, "Okay, I'll be right back with those and I'll take your order." She pulled out two menus from her apron pocket and handed them over before taking her leave.

"A coke?" Draco asked, watching Harry drain the last of his beer, his eyes lingering on the way Harry's lips curved around the rim of the bottle.

"I'm driving." Harry said by way of explanation. He set the bottle down and met Draco's gaze. Draco admired the way the soft lighting fell across Harry's cheekbones, feeling his throat go dry as he realised once more just how attractive Harry was.

Harry looked like he was having similar thoughts, if his expression was anything to go by and Draco took a hasty sip of his drink, willing himself not to blush.

“How did you get here?” Harry asked, leaning towards Draco across the table.

“A friend of mine drove me over.” He said, tracing the rim of the bottle with the tip of his pointer finger. “She was rather, uh... enthusiastic about this.” He admitted.

Harry chuckled softly. “Will she be driving you back?” There was no mistaking the question in Harry's eyes.

“Well, that depends.” He answered archly, smirking at Harry and laughing internally when his eyes widened as he understood what Draco was implying.

“Okay then.” Harry coughed, diverting his attention back to the menu. Draco smiled inwards, Harry was cute when he was flustered.

Draco took his cue from Harry and dropped his eyes to the menu, but he'd gotten no further than scanning past the starters when Romilda popped up beside them and set down their drinks. The both started, having been engrossed in the little bubble they had created, but Romilda gave no sign she had noticed.

“Are you ready to order?” She asked, pulling out her jotter and a pencil.

Draco gestured for Harry to go first, having not had enough time to pursue his choices.

Harry scanned the menu quickly before sighing ruefully.

“I'll just stick with my usual, I think.” He said, handing the menu back to Romilda, who tucked it under her arm and turned to Draco expectantly.

Draco glanced back down to his menu but nothing seemed to jump out at him.

“I'll have what he's having.” He said, holding the menu out.

“That's bold.” Harry said in surprise as Romilda headed back to the kitchen. “How do you know you'll like it?”

Draco shrugged, “I trust you.”

Harry's eyebrows rose but he smiled, pleased.

Draco leaned towards him, resting his arms on the table and cocking his head to one side. “So, how do you know my Aunt?”

“I'm Teddy's godfather.” Harry replied, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion as he too leaned across the table. “No-one told you?”

“I knew he had a godfather, I just didn't know it was you.” Draco explained. “You're younger than I expected.”

Harry chuckled, “I'm twenty-seven. That's not that young any more.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, ignoring that last comment. “Considering you were about twenty-one when Teddy was born, that's quite young to become someone's godfather.”

“That's true.” Harry laughed, taking a sip of his drink. “I was completely hopeless at first, I was so worried I was going to drop him. He was so small.” Harry smiled down at the table, his expression fond as he remembered. “Remus was very patient with me, Tonks just laughed at me.”

Draco chuckled, seeing it clearly in his head. “That sounds like Nym.”

He'd only seen photos of Teddy as a baby, having only met him when the child was four after his mother decided that she wanted to get back in touch with her older sister. Harry seemed to sense Draco's next question because he continued without needing any prompting.

“Remus was one of my dad's best friends, he's basically an uncle to me.”

Draco could hear the fondness in his voice, the obvious respect and affection that coloured his words as he spoke of the older man, but something about the way Harry held himself – or maybe the look in his eyes - told Draco that family was a sensitive subject. He couldn't explain how he knew, he just did.

“Well they obviously made a good choice, you're very good with him.” Draco stated, attempting to steer the conversation towards safer grounds and remembering the easy manner Harry had with the little boy. “He clearly adores you.”

Harry flushed at the praise. “Well, he's a brilliant kid. I don't have any siblings, but I imagine this is what having a nephew or a little brother is like.”

“I wouldn't know,” Draco responded, “I don't have either of those.”

“Teddy is technically like your nephew, in a manner of speaking. And he does call you uncle.” Harry pointed out.

“True.” Draco conceded with a nod. “But that could just be because 'Cousin Draco' sounds strange to a child.”

“There is that.” Harry nodded, smirking slightly.

Draco licked his lips, feeling something warm wash over him. He felt comfortable with Harry, they talked easily and the chemistry between them was obvious. He felt like he'd known Harry for years despite having only met the man that morning. It surprised him in a way that didn't surprise him at all.

Their conversation was halted by the arrival of their food – which turned out to be a deconstructed gourmet beef burger on top a bed of salad leaves, the buttered seeded buns propped on the side, and a basket of thickly cut, golden chips to share between them.

“Dean!” Harry cried, getting up to embrace the dark-skinned man who had brought over their food. “I thought you were still in Bristol?”

“I got back a few days ago.” The newcomer – Dean – said, pulling back from Harry and clapping him on the shoulder. “Everyone got sick so I came back before I could catch it.”

He glanced down at Draco, who was watching the exchange with interest, his eyes appraising.

“I let Romilda take her break.” He said, looking back at Harry, and his voice turned pointed. “I wanted to meet your friend.”

Harry laughed at the man's tone. “Dean, this is Draco,” he introduced them, “Draco, this is Dean, an old friend from school. He and his husband own the place.”

“Nice to meet you.” Draco held out his hand for Dean to shake.

“Likewise,” Dean grinned, “Harry hardly ever dates, I was curious to see who caught his eye.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was being tested.

“Don't be a prat, Dean.” Harry said good-naturedly, shoving his friend lightly on the shoulder.

“Sure thing, Saviour.” Dean replied, smirking when Harry groaned.

“Seriously? Will you please stop calling me that?” He sounded as if they'd had this conversation many times before. Draco shot him a quizzical look.

“Stupid high school nickname.” He muttered.

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Draco, and it took him a moment to place it.

“As in Godric's Saviour?” he questioned.

“How did you know that?” Harry asked, whilst Dean laughed in delight.

“Because I played for Salazar Academy. We had a game with you every year.” Draco responded, remembering the times he had played against Godric High, as well as Ravenclaw Institute and Hufflepuff Secondary school.

“Well this is an interesting turn of events.” Dean laughed. “I'll leave you two to it, I think.” He turned to Harry and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Don't be a stranger, Mate.”

“Course.” Harry replied.

Dean smiled at Draco who nodded back.

“Oh, and Seamus said this is on the house,” Dean held up his hand, anticipating Harry's protest and waving it away. “We insist.”

Harry grumbled as Dean walked away and Draco couldn't help but laugh at his expression.

“My friends are idiots.” He huffed.

“Why?” Draco asked, picking up a fluffy chip and taking a delicate bite. He chewed it thoughtfully. It was good, lightly seasoned, crispy on the outside and softer than air on the inside. “For giving us free food?”

“It sounds reasonable when you put it like that.” Harry sighed, taking a bite of his own food. “So you played in High School?”

“Midfielder,” he nodded, “Then as Striker during Sixth Form.”

Harry frowned in thought. “I don't remember you.” he said apologetically.

“I didn't make the main team till year ten, and I was three years behind you.” Draco explained.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. “You're twenty-four?”

Draco smirked at Harry's surprise. “Yes.”

Harry sat back in his seat. “I thought you were older.”

Draco stilled.

“Does that change things?” he asked carefully.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “Unless it does for you?”

Draco relaxed. “Definitely not.”

The two men shared a smile as the unspoken words hung in the air. They returned to their food, their conversation flowing easily. They spoke further about their school days, Harry explaining (very reluctantly) where his nickname had come from. He had transferred to Godric High when he was fifteen and was recruited to the team when their captain saw him sprint to the bus one afternoon. He had been made striker immediately, and as well as being very fast, he was ruthless in his determination and attempted moves that others would not.

From school they moved on to friends. Draco was very careful not to pry into anything Harry seemed reluctant to talk about. It was only their first date after all, it wasn't as if they had to spill their entire life story in one go. Harry told Draco about Ron and Hermione, his best friends, who had gotten married the previous summer. Harry's love for his friends was obvious, and they were clearly very close. Draco felt an irrational flash of jealously flair up as Harry recounted stories of adventurer and drama.

In turn, Draco talked about Pansy, his very best friend, practically his sister, and how they had known each other since before they could walk. He talked about Blaise and Theo from school, and Luna who he'd met at University. She was an artist and Draco explained how he had liked to study by the lake. One day, during the autumn term, he had sensed someone sitting next to him and looked up to find a pale, blonde girl wearing paint splattered, off-white overalls over a thick-knit pink and yellow stripped jumper, with odd matching socks and green wellington boots sat cross-legged across from him. She'd had a huge sketch book propped on her knees, a necklace made of corks and beer bottle caps and was drawing Draco in oil pastels, her fingers covered in different colours. Her hair had been in a messy bun, most of it falling down over her shoulders, with a paintbrush and a pencil stuck in it. She had seemed unconcerned at being caught by her muse, and Draco had been so shocked he had stared at her for a full minute before asking her what the hell she thought he was doing.

Harry had been in stitches over Draco's description of Luna and their bizarre friendship that still bemused him to that day. Talk of Luna had led to Draco mentioning his Art Gallery and their current showcase of local artists. He explained how he wanted to support the local art community and give new and unknown artists a chance to showcase – and perhaps sell - their work. He sometimes rented out unused space to the nearby Universities and schools who wanted to put on an 'end of year' show for their students.

Harry talked about his own students, boisterous, rambunctious six and seven year olds who were far too shrewd for their own good. He expressed amusement at Draco's surprise over his career choice.

“You don't think I'd make a good teacher?” He'd asked as Romilda took their plates away.

“It's not that, I just didn't image you as a teacher.” Draco replied. “I was thinking something more along the lines of law enforcement.”

Harry laughed loudly at that, causing the few nearby to turn their heads.

“It's funny you should say that.” He chortled, his eyes dancing in the low lighting. “That was my first choice.”

“Really?” Draco leaned towards Harry. “What happened?

Harry shrugged, “Turned out it wasn't really my thing.” He chuckled then, “Apparently, I'm not very good at taking orders. I left after a few months.”

“What happened then?”

“I floundered for about a year. I did odd jobs here and there, but nothing seemed right.” Harry gazed thoughtfully down at his fingers, which were intertwined on the table-top. “Then Remus got really sick and Tonks had to take time off work to take care of him. She was struggling with both him and a three year old Teddy, so I told her I'd take care of him when she needed a break. I took him to school and back, went grocery shopping with him when Tonks was to tired. I started helping out at the nursery that he went to and realised I love being around kids. I started looking into teaching, talked to Teddy's Headteacher about what I would have to do. I didn't tell anyone until Remus got better and Tonks went back to work. Everyone was really encouraging and three years later, here we are.”

“And you enjoy it?” Draco asked, although it wasn't really necessary as anyone with half a brain could see just how much Harry loved it.

Harry's answer was enthusiastic and he spent some time recounting some of the more wild shenanigans his students had gotten up to.

They talked well into the night, neither of them noticing just how much time was passing by, too caught up in each other. Draco couldn't believe how much they had in common, or just how easy it was to talk to Harry. It was so comfortable, like slipping into a hot bath at the end of a long day. And that was not to mention the underlining stream of delicious tension that fizzed and hummed every time their eyes met. Draco couldn't help but watch the way that Harry's lips moved with every word they formed, or the way his throat worked when he threw his head back and laughed. Draco couldn't ignore they way that Harry's voice made him feel, or the flair of heat in his stomach whenever Harry ran a hand through his unruly locks. He knew that Harry was watching him in the same way and the knowledge that Harry found him just as attractive, just as distracting, only made his desire burn hotter.

It was only when – hours later – a blond man with a lilting Irish accent threatened to kick them out, friend or not, that Harry suggested they make a move.

“So... have I earned you the right to drive you home?” He asked, his expression endearingly hopeful.

Draco hummed thoughtfully, dropping his eyes to the table top and running a finger over a knot in the wood.

“That depends,” he murmured, remembering Pansy's words as she kicked him out of the car. Slowly, he raised his eyes to gaze at Harry through his lashes. “How far away is your place?”

____---____---____

The interior of Harry's basement flat was open and welcoming, with a miss-match of old and modern furniture that somehow worked harmoniously together. The kitchen was along the side of the flat and along with the dining and living rooms was open plan. There were two doors at the back which Draco assumed lead to the bathroom and bedroom.

Harry walked into the kitchen calling out to Draco to make himself comfortable. Draco puled of his coat and draped it across the back of one of the armchairs, looking about himself in interest. His eye caught on a wall absolutely covered in an array of framed photographs, canvas' and paintings. They were arranged in a fashion Draco couldn't make sense of but was somehow aesthetically pleasing.

He moved closer, taking in all the different colours and memories. His eyes lingered on a strip of photos, like the kind you get at a photo booth, depicting a younger Harry smiling widely  with a laughing red-headed man and a grinning dark-skinned girl who were obviously (from the description Harry had given him) Ron and Hermione. Draco smiled at the happy scene, the strong bond between them evident even in print. Draco searched for them in the other photos and found that they featured in most of them, along side a whole host of red-headed people that Draco understood to be the Weasleys, Ron's family, and a few other familiar faces that Draco recognised as Dean and Seamus, Remus, Tonks, and Teddy. There were a few Draco didn't recognise; a chubby teenager holding a frog, a blond boy with a camera, and a handsome, dark haired man leaning against a sleek black motorbike.

Draco felt Harry walk up behind him and turned, smiling as he accepted the glass of wine Harry held out.

“Thanks.” He murmured, turning back to the photo of the dark haired man. “Who's that?”

He had a feeling he knew who the person was, but wanted Harry to confirm it.

Harry smiled when he saw who Draco was referring to. “Sirius Black, my godfather.”

Draco nodded to himself. He recognised the name of course, and marvelled internally at just how interwound his and Harry's lives already were. How had they not met before then?

“He died, didn't he?” Draco didn't want to push, but he was curious.

Harry nodded, “When I was nineteen.”

Draco winced, “I'm sorry.” The words felt lame, but there wasn't much else he could say.

Harry was quiet for a moment, his index finger reaching out to brush the frame.

“He was my dad's best friend.” Harry said, pointing to another picture, this one faded, of four boys, around fifteen or so, grinning widely at the camera. Sirius had his arms around a much younger Remus and a boy who looked the spitting image of Harry. On the doppleganger's other side was a small mousey looking boy who looked awed and excited to be included.

Draco pointed to Harry's look-a-like, “Your dad?”

Harry nodded, “James Potter,” he pointed to another photo where an older James had his arm around a laughing red-headed girl with Harry's green eyes, “And my mum, Lily.”

“You have her eyes.” Draco remarked. “And her smile.”

Harry laughed, gazing at the photo of his parents. “Everyone says that. Usually its preceded by, Wow, you look so much like your dad!”

“Well, people often go for the obvious in lieu of original thought.” Draco stated, feeling warm when Harry laughed.

“We should toast to that, I think.” Harry grinned, holding up his glass.

Draco chuckled in agreement, “To the obvious.”

“To the obvious.” Harry echoed, clinking his glass against Draco's.

They held each others eyes as they drank, and Draco felt a shiver of heat slide up his spine. Harry's gaze was liquid hot and Draco had no delusions about where this was headed. He took Harry's glass gently from his fingers and set it down on the coffee table with his own. Harry's eyes were fixed on him when Draco turned back around and they widened when he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Their fingers slid together and twined and Draco's breath caught in his throat at the feeling something as simple as holding Harry's hand caused. Harry's eyes fluttered closed at the touch.

“Do you...” he murmured, opening his eyes lazily and licking his lips. “Do you want to see my snake?”

“What?”

Draco took a step back, his eyes wide at Harry's words.

Harry's jaw went slack an he jumped forward. “Shit! Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes, you did.” Draco wasn't sure whether he should laugh at Harry's panicked expression or not. “And that was by far the most awful come-on I've ever heard.”

“Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that, I swear!” Harry said vehemently. “You make my brain go mushy. I meant an actual snake. I have a pet snake.”

Draco softened slightly. “What's wrong with a cat? Or a dog?”

Harry looked relieved when Draco made no move to leave. “Where's the fun in that?”

“Where indeed.” Draco murmured, but gestured for Harry to lead the way.

When Harry opened the door to what was clearly his bedroom, Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Not exactly making a case for yourself, Potter.” He teased, following Harry into the room.

Harry grinned at Draco's tone and crossed the room to a large glass tank in the corner. He reached inside and after some soft coxing, lifted out a beautiful pale yellow snake with faint white coils about two foot long. Draco approached carefully as the snake curled its body around Harry's arm. Harry seemed to be talking quietly, but when Draco got close enough he could hear the soft hissing sounds Harry was making. The sibilant sounds sent shivers running over Draco's skin, and not in an unpleasant way.

As Draco approached, Harry turned to face him, “Draco, this is Kalia.” He said, his voice soft, but not whispering. “She's a California King snake.”

“She's beautiful.” Draco said, taking his cue from Harry and keeping his voice soft. He reached out to stroke her back, but hesitated, waiting for Harry's nod before touching her.

“She's not venomous or poisonous, but she does have a pretty powerful bite.” Harry explained, sound for all the world like he was talking about a normal pet.

“Would you like to hold her?

Draco's eyes widened and he shook his head forcefully.

Harry chuckled, “Scared, Malfoy?” he teased.

Draco's eyes hardened and he smirked. “You wish.”

Harry carefully lifted Kalia and set her on Draco's shoulders, demonstrating how to hold himself so Kalia could move freely. Draco tensed when he felt Harry's hand slide down his back in a soothing manner, coming to rest at the base of his spine.

He eyed Harry shrewdly, almost forgetting that there was a snake slowly winding her way down his arm.

“If this was just a ploy to grope me...” he trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence because, lets be honest, he wouldn't be adverse to some groping... or any form of touching really.

“Do I need a reason to touch you.” Harry asked quietly, his eyes like two pools of liquid jade.

Draco shivered slightly at the intensity of Harry's gaze. Neither man was paying any attention to the snake any more, far to caught up in each other.

“Do you have any idea how hot you look right now?” Harry breathed.

Draco's eyes darkened. “You like me touching your snake, do you? He murmured. Harry smirked at the continuation of the awful pun.

Draco carefully stepped away from Harry and gently lowered Kalia back into her home. He slid the lid shut and flicked the latch to lock it before turning back to Harry.

“I'm sure there's much more fun things we can do with your other snake.” And with that he pulled Harry into a bruising, heat-filled kiss that left them both reeling, desperately craving more.

Harry groaned into the kiss, his hands flying to grip Draco's hips, tugging him closer. Their mouths moulded together and Harry's tongue traced Draco's lips, sliding past into the heat of his mouth when they parted.

Draco slid his fingers up over Harry's broad shoulders and into his unruly hair like he had been wanting to do since that morning. The strands were softer than Draco imagined and he tugged on them softly, needing to be closer to Harry than physically possible

Harry gasped into Draco's mouth, the sound hot and filthy. He twisted them around and shoved Draco forcefully into the wall, pressing the entire length of his body against Draco's in the most delicious way possible and sliding a knee between Draco's thighs. Draco moaned into Harry, arching, seeking more. Harry rocked their hips together, feeling their cloth covered arousals press together desperately.

Draco couldn't think, his mind filled with nothing but Harry, Harry, Harry!

He gasped out loud when Harry tore himself away from Draco's lips, tugging down the neck of the turtleneck he's still wearing for some inexplicable reason, and latched onto his pulse point, sucking hard.

Draco wasn't aware any more of the noises he was making. Harry made him feel like his skin was on fire, like there was something needy and wild inside him desperate to get out. No one has ever made him feel like this. No one has ever kissed him like this. Like he's the last breath on earth, the final ray of the sun.

When Harry tugged his earlobe into the wet heat of his mouth and whispered and husky, desperate, “Stay.” Draco pulled his lips back to his hungrily.

He had no intention of leaving.

____---____---____

Monday morning finds Pansy sat impatiently on top of the reception desk, her polished nails tapping a quick beat in the monochrome surface, ignoring the young girl behind her, quietly tapping away at the keyboard.

It was ten to ten and Draco's usually arrived by nine thirty at the latest. This coupled with the fact that she hasn't seen or heard from him for the entire weekend since she kicked him out of her car has her restless and eager for information.

Just then, a sleek black motorcycle pulls up outside the gallery, and through the floor to ceiling windows Pansy can see quite clearly as the tall man wearing a powdered blue coat disembarks from the bike, pulling off the helmet as the leather wearing driver does the same.

Pansy's jaw drops when Draco's admirer comes into view, because holy fuck! Draco has really stepped up his game.

The glass prevents Pansy from hearing what's being said, but it does nothing to stop her from watching the dark haired man throw his head back and laugh, before pulling Draco into a kiss so scorching it would have melted her brain had she been the one to receive it.

Hours later – or more precisely, a few minutes later – they break apart, smiling at each other in a way that tells Pansy the date went very well indeed, and that there will definitely be more dates – and kisses – in the future.

Pansy watches as Draco steps back and his lover bends low over the bike-handles, zooming off down the road. Draco turns around and enters the building, running a hand through his hair, the smile on his face one that Pansy will definitely be teasing him about mercilessly later.

He must sense her presence because his head snaps up, his eyes filling with horror as he watches Pansy hop down from the desk, cackling gleefully.

“Tell me everything!”

END.

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