#since. last night even just having the soft mac n cheese hurt real bad.

[orcelito]

With a combination of medicine, excessive water, and Soup, I am feeling... okay.

Very sleepy. But at least it's not agony to swallow like it was last night. So I'll take it.

[angelmavmurdock]

Home

summary: you and tom haven't seen each other in months and he surprises you.

SUPER fluffy !requested one shot!

you can either listen to the song while reading or start listening to it when it tells you to! Home by Caite Turner - the song in which this is based off of :).

***********

5 months.

5 months since I've seen Tom.

He's been in Atlanta for filming Spider-Man No Way Home and at Christmas he spent time with his family before going back.

I hadn't seen him in so long. Facetiming and phone calls could never come close to the feeling of being with him. It feels like such an alien thing now, even thinking about us spending time together. Like it's something of the past...

We tried to call every day but that became difficult as Toms only day off is Monday and I'm working and the time difference. Everything just seems so difficult and forced. But we still do it. Because we want to see and talk to each other but it's just so exhausting with the time difference.

I'd wake up earlier to call and say good morning and I'd end up staying up late on Facetime with him. So my sleep schedule was completely messed up, along with all the emotions that come with a long distance relationship. Then it's heightened even more because Tom is famous and tabloids follow him everywhere. The recent buzz for Cherry has had people asking about his love life - or rather our love life but they don't know we're together. No one apart from our friends and family do.

I missed him. I really missed him. It hurts my heart every time he posts to Instagram or I see interviews from him.

We had scheduled a Facetime for tonight. It was 10pm for me and 6pm for him. Not too bad.

I was absolutely knackered so I was just getting ready for bed when my phone started ringing.

I grinned, picking the phone up and answering the call.

"Hey, handsome." I giggled at the phone screen, sitting it up on my dresser as I got changed.

"Hey, darling. How are you?" He asked, placing a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

He was in his signature pink hoodie with a baseball cap on backwards. His phone was rested against something on his dinner table and I watched as he ate his tea.

"I'm good. Tired but good. How about you? How was work?" I asked, taking some makeup wipes out.

"Oh, sorry baby." He pouted.

"No, no, it's okay. M'used to it." I laughed lightly.

He furrowed his brows slightly as I wiped my makeup off.

"y/n."

I looked at him. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry-

"I love you." He said with a slight smile.

Don't cry, don't cry-

"I love you too, babe. I miss you." I swallowed, trying to keep the lump of sobs from bursting out.

"I miss you, too. It's been 5 months since we've seen each other. I left for Atlanta 5 months ago today." He sighed, taking another forkful of food.

I took a deep breath, throwing the makeup wipes into the bin, "It's been so long."

"I know, darling, I know. But..."

He reached over the table. I heard papers shuffle and I quirked a brow as I got into bed, only my bedside lamp giving me a warm light. I snuggled into my blankets, propping my phone against a pillow.

"I just happened to be coming to London next Friday." He said nonchalantly, fiddling with a plane ticket.

My eyes widened and I stared at my phone screen.

"Y-you're kidding." I felt my heart rate rise.

He grinned, "Nope. Filming finishes next week. I'm coming to you next Friday, love."

I gasped, sitting up and squealing into the phone.

"Oh my god! I can't believe it! We're going to see each other! For real!" I exclaimed.

"For real." He laughed.

"Oh my fucking god...well, I don't know how you expect me to sleep or work until then." I smiled widely, settling back into bed.

"I can't wait. Can't wait to see you again." He bit his lip.

I raised a brow, "Can't wait to see what part of me?"

He laughed, "Hmm, I'll leave that to your imagination. But I'd definitely call your work and tell them you won't be able to come in the whole week because your legs will be too sore."

I spluttered a laugh and got myself flustered.

God, it had been so long since we touched...

"I can't wait to fuck you again." He said lowly.

I widened my eyes, "Are Racheal and Harry not there?" I hissed.

He shook his head, "Racheal's not here and Harry's working in his room."

I shifted onto my side to face him completely.

"Okay then...if you want to fuck me so bad...tell me what you'll do to me when you get here."

***

It was the next night. Friday. Finally. Tom had said he wouldn't be able to call tonight because he was on set all day. I was fine with that, though. Last night was an extremely heated Facetime call.

I went into work and sat at my desk, staring at a blank word document just wishing words would start typing themselves onto the page. My mind was somewhere else. It was with Tom. I didn't sleep much last night as it was an eventful night so I was absolutely knackered by the time I got home from work.

I managed to stay awake long enough to make myself some mac and cheese. I managed one episode of friends, I ate my dinner and I snuggled on my couch, stripping my jeans and top off to leave me comfortably in my underwear with blankets draped over me. I didn't particularly mean to fall asleep at 7pm on a Friday night. It just happened.

-

Toms POV

"Good luck, mate. Have fun." Harrison laughed cheekily on the phone as I entered y/n's flat building.

"Div. Bye." I chuckled, ending the call.

I hyped myself all the way up to y/n's flat. I looked at myself in my phone camera to check how I looked. I couldn't hear anything from inside but I knew she was in. The bouquet of flowers in my hand kept crinkling loudly and I tried to shut them up seeing as it was midnight.

I could feel some jet lag already hitting me but the nerves and excitement completely cancelled it out.

I was surprising her. Filming finished a few days ago, not next week. I had everything planned out. And she had no idea.

I took a few deep breaths and sat my suitcase and bag down. I lifted a hand to her door and hesitantly knocked. Adrenaline rushed through me.

She was going to open the door and we'd have the best moment, then we'd kiss and then...

She wasn't answering the door. Her car was outside and it was midnight so she should be in.

I gritted my teeth anxiously and knocked again.

Still nothing.

I looked around in slight panic, not knowing what to do. But then I tried her door handle. It opened.

I'll have to tell her to lock it next time, I reminded myself before opening the door slowly. The flat was quiet, only the sound of traffic coming in from the open windows filled the room. I wheeled my suitcase and bag in quietly then shut the door behind me equally so.

I walked further into the flat and that's when I finally saw her. And why I finally saw why she wasn't answering the door.

y/n was curled up on the couch, blankets sprawled across her basically naked body and the couch. Her hair lay messy on top of her head and her mouth hung open slightly as she slept.

My heart filled with love and joy as I watched her. 5 months since I had seen her and she was like this. In her most perfect form. Natural and messy and cute but also hot because the underwear she was wearing and the fact I hadn't seen her body in nearly half a year made me nearly get a full hard on.

I walked closer to her, placing the bouquet of flowers next to her abandoned bowl of mac and cheese. I caught a glimpse of the TV.

Are you still watching?

I smiled and turned back to her, kneeling to come face to face with her. I could smell her signature perfume and it made my heart swoon so massively.

I smiled uncontrollably as I reached my hand to her cheek, brushing my fingers over her skin. I missed her skin on mine. I brushed some of her hair behind her ear and then cupped her cheek softly, rubbing my thumb back and forth to gently awaken her.

y/n POV

I felt a hand on my face, a thumb delicately brushing my cheek. It felt familiar and suddenly I could smell something that made my heart ache. Whatever it was smelled like Tom. Like his natural scent mixed with his usual aftershave.

"y/n..."

I heard my name being whispered. I hummed and nuzzled into the pillow more, enjoying whatever dream about Tom I was having. His hand was warm on my face and it was like it was really there.

"y/n, darling..."

Mmm, the nickname. I missed his voice.

"Love...you awake?"

I furrowed my brows. What? Tom didn't say that in my dream. I felt myself being brought back into consciousness gradually and the heat and weight of a hand on my face was very much there, along with the prominent smell and the literal presence of someone.

I slowly opened my eyes, blurry at first but then everything came into view.

Tom.

He was kneeling in front of the couch, his hand still stroking my cheeks, his face in a soft but wide smile, his skin tanned and glowing but the bags under his eyes were visible.

"T-Tom?" I stuttered in a whisper.

Was I dreaming? Was I hallucinating? I mean, I had been thinking about him a lot and I was exhausted so it made sense.

"Hey, darling," He chuckled softly.

"I- what the- are you- what?"

My eyes were heavy, my voice was quiet, in fear of it breaking and I was so incredibly confused.

"Surprise." He chuckled, tucking a hair behind my ear.

I blinked a few times to clear my vision and I saw a tear run down his cheek.

He was here.

"Tom," I whispered, grabbing him and pulling him into me, my arms wrapping around his neck.

He held me just as tightly around my waist. His skin was on mine. He was here. He was actually here. We were actually touching.

He slowly pulled me off the couch and onto the floor with him, welcoming me onto his lap. I wrapped my legs around him and nuzzled my face into his neck. I fisted his light jacket, trying to get a hold of every part of him.

Suddenly it was as if every emotion I felt in the past five months came flooding to the surface. Sadness, hopelessness, excitement, happiness, love. His hands wrapped completely around my waist, holding me flush to his chest. I felt tears tickle down my face but I didn't care.

His face was nuzzled into my neck, too. He moved a hand up to cradle the back of my head when he realised I was crying. I was actually sobbing. Audibly. But so was he now.

We both pulled away at the same time then immediately crashed our lips together. A new wave of tears pooled into my eyes. He tasted good. He tasted like him. Minty and perfect. I ran my fingers up and into his hair. God I missed his hair.

Our tongues pushed into each others and we both moaned slightly, revelling in the feeling of one another again.

He was here.

We pulled away breathlessly and stared into each other's eyes. I cupped his face and he did mine. I wiped the tears from his face, he wiped the tears from mine.

"I missed you so much." I croaked.

"I missed you too, darling."

"Please just promise me you'll never do that again. I can't live without you for that long again. I can't." I half-joked.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here with you." He rested his forehead against mine.

"I'm home." He whispered.

I sobbed happy cries at his words. He suddenly pulled away and brought his phone out, shakily going onto Spotify and playing 'Home' by Caite Turner, turning it all the way up.

"Dance with me." He whispered.

I stood off of him and he joined me. He held my hand and twirled me around, inspecting my body.

"I feel so naked," I laughed.

He shed his jacket off and then he pulled his t-shirt over his head. I widened my eyes at him. He had gotten fitter over filming, along with a new tan.

"That's better." I sniffled with a smile.

He brought me into him and held me by my waist with one hand then my hand in his other. I had my free hand on his cheek. I traced up and onto his sun freckles, down his crooked nose and then back to his left eyebrow and down to his jaw then back into his hair.

He leaned his head down and encased my lips in his. It was soft and breathless. One of those kisses you wish you had a picture of to capture the moment. I missed kissing him. Our lips slotted together perfectly like they were made for each other.

He slowly pulled away and we rested our heads against each other's, still swaying in time to the music.

"You're my home, y/n." He whispered.

I closed my eyes, feeling a few tears escape my eyes.

"Wherever you are is home to me. I can't be without you again." He spoke quietly and shakily, on the verge of another sob.

"I feel the same. I'm going everywhere with you now."

He chuckled lightly and we pulled back. He brushed my hair behind my ear and looked into my eyes with his gorgeous brown ones. I cupped his face and me sighed into my touch.

"I love you." He stated quietly.

"I love you." I replied.

"You're the one, y/n. No questions. I can't fucking live without you."

I felt my chin quiver at his words. I didn't know how to even respond verbally.

I pulled him down to my lips, my tongue slipping into his mouth almost immediately. He hummed and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"You're it, Tom," I whispered between kisses.

He pulled away slightly, our lips just ghosting over one another's.

"You're my home."

[magniloquent-raven]

for the I Love You prompts: harringrove, 20) “You can borrow mine.”

thank you so much for the prompt!!! hope u enjoy what i did with it lol

posted on ao3

--

It’s been two years since the Hargrove-Mayfield family moved to Hawkins, and Billy is still here. He never planned on staying this long—in fact, he started coming up with an escape route the second his boots hit the ground, and yet…

Well, plans change. He didn’t plan on getting stabbed through the chest by a thirty-foot-tall spider demon made of people sludge either, but shit happens. Life happens. Falling in love happens, apparently. Not that Billy thought it would ever happen to him.

But here he is. In Hawkins, Indiana, head-over-fucking-heels, hanging around like a pathetic stray hoping for table scraps of whatever Steve Harrington’s willing to give him. They’re friends now, and Billy’s savouring every moment he can, while it lasts.

Steve asked him, one afternoon, why he was still here. “Figured you’d take off after graduation is all. Hawkins doesn’t exactly have much worth hanging around for,” he’d laughed, a little self-deprecating. “Besides, uh, a lot of bad memories here. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave.”

And Billy hadn’t known what to say. Muttered something about sticking around for Max, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but wasn’t anywhere close to the whole truth.

He spends a whole lot of time in that grey area. Weaving just enough reality into his cover-stories to make them solid enough to hide behind. It’s fucking exhausting. And sometimes a dangerous line to walk.

Especially since Steve seems to buy into his bullshit less and less lately.

Maybe it’s the fact that dying and coming back changes your perspective a bit, or hanging around Steve so much is making him soft, or some combo of both, but he’s starting to wonder if maybe he could let go of it entirely, and just…live honestly.

Which isn’t an option, not really. But sometimes, in the small moments when Steve smiles at him and the weight on his shoulders doesn’t feel as heavy, he thinks maybe, maybe, it could be. And it scares him a little. How much he wants it to be an option.

It’s a cold evening in mid-November the first time he really slips.

They’re at Robin’s house, of all places. Despite Billy’s jealousy over the closeness of her and Steve’s friendship, he gets along with Robin. Almost too well, according to Steve.

So, it’s a thing. All three of them hanging out at her place.

Her dad makes awesome mac n’ cheese. Her mom is friendly, but not too friendly. And they let Robin hang out in her room with two boys without making a huge fuss about it.

It’s nice.

Billy almost makes it through the whole evening without doing something stupid, but then Steve (somehow) spills an entire can of Coke on his jacket, and Billy opens his big mouth without thinking.

“You can borrow mine.”

The thing is…Billy doesn’t really get cold anymore. He gets warm still. Way too easily. Sometimes he’ll bundle up just to remind himself he can get warm without it hurting. Without the thing inside him dying of it and destroying him in the process. So, he still wears jackets, sweaters, whatever-- probably more often than he used to, actually-- but he doesn’t need them.

Sometimes he wonders if one day he’ll freeze to death without noticing, or if frostbite isn’t a thing for him anymore. He hasn’t had the balls to test it.

Either way it’s like the world’s dumbest super power. Just another thing reminding him of shit he doesn’t want to remember.

Steve is staring at him. At the jacket in his hand. It’s his leather one. The one Max bought for him after he came back from the hospital. She’d wrapped it up all pretty with a bow and note that said “glad you didn’t die” in purple ink. Susan was mortified when she noticed it but Billy laughed so hard he nearly busted his stitches. 

He’s worn the jacket almost every day since. 

Robin is staring too, with a weird, calculating look in her eye, and he doesn’t like it.

“I…” Steve’s gaze wavers, flickering between Billy’s face and his hand again, “I can just—”

“Just take it, Harrington,” Billy interrupts, hoping the gruffness covers for how pink his cheeks are. He tosses the jacket, and Steve catches it reflexively, still looking at it like he’s not sure it’s real.

“Are you sure?”

Is he sure. That he wants to know what Steve looks like in his jacket? Yes. That he wants anyone else to know that? No.

Billy shrugs, aiming for non-committal. “Not like I need it,” he gestures vaguely towards himself, “Not entirely human anymore, remember?” Bitterness creeps into his tone without his permission.

“Hey,” Steve admonishes. Quietly, softly, but still a reprimand. His eyes are wide, concerned. Billy tries to wave him off, but Steve shakes his head and takes a step closer. “Don’t do that. You’re not a monster.”

“I—” he can’t hold eye contact anymore, not with Steve looking at him like that. He stares at the ugly yellow carpet beneath his feet instead. “Didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did,” Steve responds immediately, tone firm and direct. Because he knows. Knows Billy better than anyone has in a long time. Which is saying something, because Billy is friends with a girl who’s literally been inside his head.

It makes Billy want to curl up in a hole somewhere and never speak again. Run as far as he can. Cry ‘til he can’t anymore. Break shit. Blow up his life and start over. Being known feels so foreign, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

But under that there’s something delicate, warm and fragile, tentative. He’s afraid to get near it. Like it’ll disappear if he looks too closely. Shatter into pieces if he tries to bring it out of hiding.

“Alright. Alright, fine,” Billy mutters weakly. “But just… wear the jacket, okay? Really. I don’t need it. Besides, it’d look good on you.”

Whoops.

Somewhere off to the side Robin makes a small, amused sound, and alarm bells go off in Billy’s head. But before he can completely panic, backpedal and pretend he was joking despite sounding entirely sincere, Steve grins.

They’ve been friends for over a year now and Billy’s world still stops for a moment when Steve smiles at him.

And then he puts the jacket on and…

Wow.

Okay.

Billy has always liked looking at Steve. He’s never really hidden that fact, just banked on nobody figuring out the why of it. He’s aware-- painfully aware-- that Steve is incredibly gorgeous. 

But this is...

This just isn’t fair.

Steve looks a little sheepish, and stuffs his hands in his pockets, hair falling in his eyes when he ducks his head. And he’s blushing. It’s faint, barely-there, just a light pink tinge to his cheeks that nobody would’ve noticed if they weren’t paying close attention, which. Well. Billy is. 

He wants to feel it under his palms, feel the warmth of it. Wants to know if he can make that blush spread, see how far it would go, chase that heat with his mouth, drop to his knees and watch Steve come undone. He wants--

So much.

He’s sure it’s written all over his face, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Well?” Steve raises his eyebrows, grin turning teasing as he spreads his arms, glancing down at himself pointedly. 

Billy clears his throat. Blinks. “Suits you,” he answers after a too-long pause. 

“Can we go now?” Robin interjects, rolling her eyes. Her tone is more fond than exasperated, but Billy still flinches a little.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, gaze flicking over to Steve for a second before he looks back at Robin. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He “forgets” to ask for his jacket back before he goes home that night. There’s no guarantee that Steve would wear it again, but Billy can hope. 

And for once in his life, he gets what he wants. Steve starts wearing it all the time. But Billy’s starting to see why people say “be careful what you wish for” because the whole situation is a very mixed blessing. 

He keeps catching Robin giving him weird looks, and, really, he can’t blame her because he’s been so unsubtle lately, it’s embarrassing. And terrifying. Because it’s going to get him noticed by the wrong person someday. 

But he can’t fucking help it, not when Steve’s walking around looking like that. 

Though, Steve’s been acting odd too. Staring at Billy when he thinks no one’s looking, face all pinched and thoughtful. It’s getting worrying. 

Then one afternoon Billy walks into Family Video and Steve pulls him into the back room. No hello or anything, just a hand around Billy’s wrist and a determined set to his jaw. 

He locks the door behind them.

“Steve?”

“I talked to Max this morning.” 

“O...kay?”

Steve sighs, runs a hand through his hair. His other hand is still wrapped around Billy’s wrist. “She said. Um. That jacket was a gift?”

Oh.

Shit.

“Yeah, so?” Billy flinches at his own tone but Steve doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away. His grip tightens, fingertips pressed to Billy’s skin hard enough to feel his pulse pounding. 

Steve takes a step forward. They’re close enough that Billy can see the purple shadows under Steve’s eyes. He doesn’t get enough sleep. Always asking Billy if he’s still having nightmares, never worrying about his own. Billy’s heart aches, and he hopes Robin will take care of Steve if this conversation ends his and Steve’s friendship. Someone needs to look after this boy if Billy isn’t there to do it. 

He hates that thought.

“So, I… Billy, why’d you give it to me?”

“Because…” Panic hits him hard, belatedly, as he tries to imagine actually answering that question. His stomach clenches, flips, and he curls in on himself. “Because you needed it,” he finishes lamely. 

But of course Steve sees through him, of course he does. “Really?” Steve sighs, rolling his eyes.

“What do you want from me, Steve?” Billy snaps, nervous energy making him jittery, he feels cornered, caught up in all the ways this could blow up in his face, trapped. He calms down a smidge when regret hits him, and he takes a breath, hates himself a little for snapping. 

“I want you to tell me it meant something, asshole.”

Billy freezes. 

He looks up at Steve, really looks at him, sees tension in his shoulders, the nervous twist of his mouth, uncertainty in his eyes. 

Oh.

“You...really?” Billy breathes, quietly, terrified of shattering the moment. “It does--it--it did, I--” Words have never failed him so completely. He used to be good at this. It would be utterly mortifying if not for the sweet smile spreading across Steve’s face. He’s strangely okay with making a fool of himself if it means Steve looking at him like that. “I wanted…” he squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself, “I wanted to take care of you. I always...want that. You needed something and I--I’d give you anything--” 

Steve’s hands are warm. He cradles Billy’s face gently, so careful, and tilts his face upwards until Billy meets his eyes. 

“Anything?” 

Well. No turning back now. Might as well embrace this whole honesty thing. “Yeah, pretty boy. Anything. Besides, you look hot as fuck in leather.”

Steve grins at that, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he lets out a huff of a delighted laugh. “In that case, I’m gonna need you to kiss me--”

He barely has time to finish his sentence before Billy lunges forward, crashing their lips together. It’s messy at first, desperate, Billy’s fingers threaded through Steve’s hair, pulling him closer. A whine escapes him (that he would deny later) when Steve pulls back, but he’s only gone for a second. He presses forward again, but gentler this time, slow, one hand falling to Billy’s waist and the other sliding to the back of his neck. 

Billy could’ve stayed like this forever, but a loud, insistent knock at the door makes them both jump.

“Steve, I don’t care if you’re mid-BJ right now, it’s my break, and you locked yourself in there with my stuff!” Robin yells through the door. 

Steve rests his forehead against Billy’s shoulder and he muffles a laugh into his shirt. “Goddamnit, Robin,” he mutters, and lifts his head to glare at the door, “Alright!” he calls, then turns to Billy. “To be continued?” There’s a question in his eyes, more than what he’s saying out loud.

Billy brushes a lock of hair from his face, and grins, ��Count on it.”

[mickeyisak]

black and white

So, love is complicated. When you go through what Travis has, love is complicated. So when he realises Emmett is falling in love with him, he knows he should stop. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t love Emmett, but he continues sleeping with him anyway.

(Or, the one where I fix the end of 3x16.)

read on ao3

Love is complicated. Everyone knew that. Travis knew that. He'd been in love more than a few times, and he knew what being in love felt like. It was the calm in the middle of a storm, it was warm blankets while snow (or rain, in Seattle's case) fell outside, it was the late morning sun falling over tan skin in bed, it was sacrifice. Every love is different, Travis learned throughout his life, with every passing partner.

The first time Travis fell in love, he was 19, in his freshman year of college, the first time he felt safe enough to truly be himself. He met a guy in his Intro to Psychology class, second semester. They sat next to each other on the first day, the entire lecture hall packed, every chair full. Throughout the semester the class got emptier, and more seats cleared out, but Travis still sat next to Matt, every Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Matt was cute, a senior in an entry level Psych class, getting his final Arts & Humanities credit out of the way. And he was terrible. He always told Travis how bad his exam scores were, how he never understood the things the professor was saying, or his own notes.

In mid February, a few weeks before midterms, Travis offered to help him study. Travis was surprisingly good at Psych, despite not really caring about the class itself. It was a Saturday night when Travis showed up outside Matt's apartment with his Psych book and notes in his backpack. They studied for a little while, Matt finding ways to scoot closer to Travis every few minutes. Eventually, they both ended up naked in Matt's bed. Travis thought he might've fallen in love when he woke up the next morning to muscular arms wrapped around him. They continued the same routine every few days, and surprisingly, somehow, Matt got a bit better at Psychology. Travis only told Matt his feelings when Matt was fast asleep, snoring and drooling into his pillow. They ended things when Matt graduated, and moved to Portland. Travis knew it was coming, and he moved on fairly easily, but it hurt.

Travis fell in love again the summer before his senior year of college, he studied all summer in Barcelona. He tried to perfect his Spanish, knowing it would help him when he became a firefighter. He met Alex at a gay bar in early June, not long after he arrived. They went home together that night, and almost every night after that. They both knew it would end when summer did, but Travis fell in love anyway. And he fell fast. By August, he was in love. He told Alex he loved him the last time they saw each other before Travis returned to the States. Alex said the same. They remained friends for a while, before losing touch. It was for the best, Travis isn’t good at remaining friends with people he’s loved. 

Travis met the love of his life at 23, fresh out of college, in the Fire Academy. Michael was, is, the best thing that ever happened to him. Travis doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but with Michael, he thinks that was the best way to describe it. He swore he was going to marry him, from the minute they met. Two years later, he was proved right. He and Michael were soulmates, he loved the men before, but his love with Michael was different. Gentle, soft, grounding. 

He and Michael weren’t perfect, technically. They fought, usually over stupid stuff. They weren’t perfect, but it was perfect. Travis was ready to spend the rest of his life cooking for his husband, because Michael was terrible, and couldn’t make anything other than Kraft Mac n’ Cheese and spaghetti with Prego sauce. Working with your spouse is supposedly forbidden, if you want the marriage to last. But Travis and Michael drove to work together every shift, slept side-by-side in the awful twin bunks at the station, ate breakfast at the beanery table, just as they would at home. Travis was the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

Until he wasn’t. 

Travis remembers every movement he made that day. Michael went out on his call, a fire in an apartment building. It was supposed to be easy, in and out, a grease fire. But the fire grew, and moved to the neighboring units. The building was built terribly, and the roof collapsed with Michael inside. The Captain knew the building wasn’t structurally sound, and he should’ve pulled the team out. 

Travis remembers the rig pulling back into the barn, and Michael not in it. He remembers the feeling of his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. He remembers the Captain's voice telling him what happened, in the detached voice they were all trained to use when delivering bad news. He remembers the soft condolences at his line of duty funeral. He remembers sleeping in a empty, cold bed for the first time in six years. He remembers everything. Even if he wanted to forget. 

So, love is complicated. When you go through what Travis has, love is complicated. So when he realises Emmett is falling in love with him, he knows he should stop. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t love Emmett, but he continues sleeping with him anyway. To be fair, Emmett’s been saying he thinks he loves him since he was still with Alicia, but Travis knows he means it now.

Emmett tells him he thinks he’s in love for real the first time in bed. They finished having sex a while ago, then laid in bed together, their breaths slowing. Emmett must have thought Travis had fallen asleep, because he softly whispers the words into the dark. Travis knew he should of ended it right there, but he does genuinely like Emmett, and he’s selfish, so he doesn’t. 

It happens a second time in the showers of the station a few weeks later, after it’s announced that Emmett’s engaged to Alicia. Travis gets angry, or angrier, because he’s already angry that Emmett’s engaged to a woman he’s cheated on multiple times, and angry that he has feelings for someone that can do that to another person. So Travis tells him, he doesn’t love him or her, because you don’t do that to someone you love.

It’s brought up again when the team is partying on Dean’s houseboat. Emmett’s drunk, so is Travis, but Travis knows how to control his mouth when he’s intoxicated. They’re all having a good time, just partying and not worrying about work. They’re dancing together, Emmett is really cute like this; Bouncy, happy, drunk. It’s nice to see him being his true self. “I think I love you!” Emmett shouts over the pounding music, his eyes drooping with intoxication.

Travis just grabs his face and kisses him to shut him up. The way Emmett looks at him when they pull away tugs at his heart. “I can’t hear you!” he lies in return. 

The team decides to hang out again after the bomb call at Pac North. Emmett pulls Travis outside, and Travis knows what’s coming. Emmett takes a deep breath before speaking. “Look, I know I have a lot to learn about... pretty much everything.” he smiles. “But you got me here. And I owe you so much. I admire you so much. And... I’m so grateful for you, Travis.”

Travis speaks up. “No, you did this, Emmett.” He did, he was brave, Travis didn’t do anything, this was all Emmett.

“No, I couldn’t have done this without you.” Emmett interjects, and places a hand on Travis’ arm. “I love you.” he tells him. His blue eyes are shining, flicking in between Travis’ own. Emmett kisses him, and Travis lets him, kisses him back even, but he has to let him know, so he pulls away.

Emmett’s eyes are still looking at him with love, and it kills Travis that he’s about to ruin it. “I am really happy for you, you know. For how far you’ve come, for all this life that you have ahead of you. And I am really sorry...” he takes a deep breath. “That I don’t love you back. He watches Emmett’s face fall, watches his eyes go from shining with love to shining with tears. 

Emmett just nods and kisses him one last time, before walking away. “Yeah, me too.” 

Travis thinks for a split second, before speaking up. “Emmett.”

Emmett stops and turns. “What, Travis?” The way he looks at him hurts. He did that.

“I was married.” he starts, preparing himself for what he’s about to retell. Emmett’s brow furrows in confusion. Travis sits down in one of the chairs outside of the window. Emmett follows. “A while ago, I had a husband. Uh, his name was Michael. He... was... uh. Well, he was a terrible cook, a giant Seahawks fan... and he was a firefighter.” Emmett’s head snaps up and meets Travis’ eyes. “He was, is, the love of my life. And he... died, in the line of duty. About four years ago.”

“Travis, I- I didn’t know.”

“Saying ‘I love you’ isn’t that easy for me... because the last person I said it to, was... him. It’s been four years, and I’ve gotten used to the empty place in my bed where he used to be, and I took my ring off, but I don’t know if another person will ever compare to him. And... it takes time to recover from losing someone you love. A long time. And I’m not there yet. So, no, I don’t love you back.” Emmett drops his head. “But that doesn’t mean I never will. And it doesn’t mean I don’t still want to be with you.” He reaches over and grabs Emmett’s hands. “I like you, Emmett, a lot, actually. A lot more than I thought I would.” Emmett smiles a bit at that. “And just because I don’t love you now, doesn’t mean I want to end this. Okay?” Emmett nods. “So now it’s up to you, probie. Where do you want to go from here?” 

Emmett doesn’t say anything, just leans across the table in between their chairs and kisses him. Travis kisses him back, relieved. When they break apart, Emmett pulls Travis into a hug. Travis buries his face in Emmett’s neck, and they sit like that for awhile, Emmett running his fingers up and down Travis’ back, comforting him. Travis welcomes the serenity: Emmett’s cologne, or pheromones, or both, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat, the soft scratch of Emmett’s fingers tracing circles and shapes on his back.

And, yeah, he can fall in love with this.

[shipmistress9]

Not one of Them - Epilogue 7: Good Memories and Two Firsts

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3: Chapter 4

Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8

Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Epilogue 1; Epilogue 2

Epilogue 3; Epilogue 4; Epilogue 5; Epiloge 6

Alright, here it is. It took a while because I'm already writing and plotting the next story.

As promised, we go back to happy Hiccstrid here. Fluff, and smut, and more fluff, and more smut, ending with fluff again. I hope you'll like it ;)

Grinning widely about the sober notification he'd just gotten on his phone, Hiccup dug for his keys, and opened the door to their flat. And then grinned even wider when he heard a stream of unashamed curses. Swiftly, he got rid of his jacket, grabbed the bag with his shopping, and entered the living room, eager not to miss the comical display.

As expected, Astrid was walking up and down in front of the large windows at the opposite side of the room. She looked beautiful in a tightly fitting red top and that sorry excuse of a skirt, even with that disgruntled expression on her face, hands running through her hair, and ranting into thin air.

Her phone, Hiccup noticed, lay on the kitchen counter, its display glowing with the signs of an active call, one unread message, and a muted microphone. He placed the shopping bag next to it on the counter, and walked over to take his girlfriend into his arms.

"That bad?" he asked, smirking into her hair where she couldn't see it.

"Worse!" she growled angrily. "I swear, if that old scarecrow doesn't stop changing his mind, I'll turn into an axe-murderer. This is the sixth time now. The sixth! I mean, I'm pretty sure I got what he was asking for. But every fucking time I send him my sketch, he comes up with another alteration. And then shouts at me for not being able to read his mind. Gods, why am I doing this again?"

Hiccup pressed his lips to her forehead, snickering inwardly, and felt her relaxing already in his arms. "Because you love your job," he murmured against her skin, making an effort to sound calm and serious. "Because this old man is just a client, and the company wouldn't have given us this assignment if they thought it unimportant or boring, because we're the best. Because you know he's probably doing it just to listen to your beautiful voice some more. Because you're a professional, and that weirdo is not worth your anger. And because you'll love it when I have to deal with him, once he's satisfied with your sketch."

Chuckling quietly, she snuggled closer into his embrace. "Right," she snickered. "That'll be fun to watch." She stretched to give him a light peck on his mouth, whispered a low "Thanks!" against his lips, and retreated before he could pull her in for a real kiss. "But I need to get back to being a professional now."

With a smile, she wound her way out of his embrace, snatched her phone from the counter, and hopped onto the sofa. "Mr Mildew? I'm sorry for this interruption. Now, I'm all yours again. So, what was it exactly that bothered you about that sketch?"

Hiccup watched her with a fond smile, then went to change into more comfortable clothes. When he returned to the living room, she was still sitting on the sofa, her head dropped back, and an unnerved expression on her face. Her replies to the seemingly endless stream of instructions coming from her phone had become noticeably monosyllabically, consisting only of short hums and monotonous yeses. A small grin crept across Hiccup's face, and he decided to distract her a bit, to put her professionalism to the test.

Quietly, he stepped closer and crouched down on the ground behind the sofa. She hadn't noticed him so far, and jumped a little when his hands began to play with her hair that hung in long golden waves down the backrest.

Lately, she almost always wore her hair down while they were home. It was something she hadn't done before, and it had taken her days to notice, and to realise why. And her explanation had made his heart sing. To her, her tightly braided hair represented some kind of mental wall, a shield. Only rarely had she felt comfortable and safe enough to let her hair down, during sex with those random guys the met in the club or in general. Eret had never seen her with her hair down, while she'd never thought twice about it when with Hiccup. This knowledge gave him a weird kind of satisfaction. Hiccup hated the other man with a passion, for everything he'd done to Astrid, for tricking her, and for hurting her when she was so vulnerable. Which had been his fault, and Hiccup would happily spend his lifetime making it up to her.

Slowly, he worked his way through her tresses, combing his fingers through them, and entangling them. Every now and then, his slight pulling on single strands made her hum in pleasure, sounds that, so far, mixed perfectly with her replies on the phone.

He went a step further, lifted his hands up to massage her scalp, fingernails lightly scraping over sensitive skin. Astrid shivered and fidgeted when he didn't stop. Her eyes were closed now, a small smile on her lips, and Hiccup doubted she was listening closely to Mr Mildew's explanations anymore.

With a cheeky grin, he brushed her hair aside, and brought his mouth toward the soft skin at her neck. His light kisses and nibbles left her whimpering quietly until, after a few minutes, he bit down into her shoulder. An urgent moan tore itself from her throat, one that startled her and made her clutch a hand over her mouth in shock.

Chuckling, Hiccup got back on his feet, and grinned at the incredulous look she threw him past her phone.

"N- no, I'm sorry, Mr Mildew," she said hastily. "Yes, I'm listening. I just... got cramps. Yeah, cramps, in my arm. Guess I need to move it more, maybe throw a few punches later or something." As she spoke, her gaze met his across the room, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

Unashamedly, Hiccup grinned back at her, and then unpacked his shopping. It wasn't much, just some ingredients for dinner. Getting them had been a spontaneous decision, a way to celebrate this day. One month might not be that long in terms of relationships, but, without a doubt, it had been the happiest month of his life.

He went about grating the different types of cheese – Gouda, Mozzarella, Cheddar, Brie, Parmesan, Swiss, Munster, and Monterey Jack – while listening with half an ear to Astrid's call. This particular client had been bothering her for almost a week now, and from the little Hiccup got his requests were pretty weird indeed. What was that about a sheep and... a bed? Hiccup frowned, but then shrugged, and turned his focus back to the task at hand.

Once Astrid was done with her phone call, she came over to keep him company. She grabbed the bowl with the freshly grated cheese while he was busy getting out the large pasta pot and filling it with water, then lifted herself up onto one of the counters nearby to curiously watch him work.

"Mmh, to what do I owe the pleasure of you making Mac and Cheese for me?" she asked, tossing a bit of cheese into her mouth. "It's still two weeks until my birthday. Or is that supposed to be a bribe so you don't get punched after all? Because it works."

Smirking at her words, Hiccup reached past her for the salt and oil, not missing his chance to caress her rear and bare thighs. "Well, it's... been a while since the last time I made it," he replied, frowning slightly. He didn't like remembering that day. "And I thought today would be a good day to create some new memories. Good ones over the bad. Also, it's been a month... And it's Wednesday, we could return to old habits. You know, squish in a film night. Unless you need to finish those sketches for this impatient customer."

The last words, he said with a twinkle in his eyes, even though they, too, belonged to that day. But dwelling on bad memories wouldn't do them any good, they both agreed on that. Instead, they were intent on drawing them back out again and repainting them with brighter colours.

Astrid smiled despite the hint of pain in her eyes. She didn't like to remember that day either. "That sounds like a great idea. And no, I don't need to finish those tonight. A film night would be great," she replied, stealing more cheese, and smirked at his scowl.

"You know, the more you eat now, the less will be in your dinner later," he pointed out good-humouredly, not mentioning that he'd bought more cheese than necessary anyway. He had expected her to swipe a bit after all. "But what was it our dear Mr Mildew asked for? Does he really want an erotic picture of a sheep in a bed?"

Astrid choked on the last bit of cheese as his joking words made her laugh. "Quite possibly," she wheezed. "At first it sounded like a metaphor. You know, something along the line of 'sleeping innocence'. But by now, I'm not so sure anymore. It does sound like that's what he's after. Weirdo. And he actually wants it to look like a real sheep. Not the usual furry-kink style with a humanised sheep-girl. Wouldn't be the first time we drew those, after all. Although, I still don't see what's so special about animals in bed."

"Oh, I don't know," he said with a grin, interrupted his preparations for now, and walked over to where she sat. Standing between her legs, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and leaned closer. "I quite like the lioness that's occupying my bed lately," he whispered into her ear.

She chuckled as his breath tickled on her neck, and wound her arms around his torso. "Miaow," she breathed, and lightly scraped her fingernails over his back, just where her marks on him were beneath his shirt.

Hiccup shuddered and growled, head spinning by how quickly the atmosphere between them had shifted. Again! Gods, how he loved being with her, every aspect of it. He retreated, just enough to look her in the eyes, and saw the same spark of desire in them which had flared up inside him.

She pushed one hand up into his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss that hid nothing of her hunger, and he responded eagerly.

Kissing her was his personal drug; simply just too intoxicating to not respond to it. His eyes fluttered shut, and, in a way, it hurt not to look at her. But at the same time, not being able to see increased the sensibility of his other senses which made it perfectly bearable. All those sensations were overwhelming.

Her heat pouring into him, and the sensation of her soft lips moving with his...

The sweet taste of those lips, of salty cheese on her tongue, of her...

Her scent in each breath he managed to inhale in-between...

And her small noises which filled the air around them...

Oh, her noises...

Her desperate gasps for air...

Her low whimpers before she pulled him closer...

Her gentle sighs while she buried her hand in his hair...

Her small moans when he held her as tightly as he dared...

Her soft keening as their bodies pressed against each other...

Hiccup was losing himself in her careful noises – and he actually had before, frequently. He had no idea how long this kiss lasted already. It could have been only seconds or several hours. He didn't know, but he also didn't care.

As always, Hiccup lost track of everything as he kissed Astrid. All he was aware of was her tongue sliding along his, her small gasps and whimpers, her hand clutching at his back and hair, pulling him in, and their bodies grinding against each other with persistence. His fingers were entangled in her long golden tresses, his fingertips scraping over her scalp, and he could feel her tremble and twitch every time he hit a sensitive spot. He could go on like this forever. Or so he thought...

"Did you get the same message I did?" she asked with bated breath after finally tearing herself away from his lips. Suggestively, she let one hand glide down his front. "The clearance?"

"Yes." His voice was hoarse with want, his cock already straining against the fabric of his boxers. The hiccupy breath she took at his answer didn't exactly let him soften either.

Her hand slid beneath his waistband without further hesitation. She moaned softly when she found him hard already from their heated kisses, and pushed down his trousers to fully expose him.

"Here?" he asked, a little breathless. She nodded, and he pushed her short skirt up – to find her bare beneath already. With a low growl, he let his hand drift over her exposed sex, slick and wet, already ready for him.

Astrid shifted closer toward the counter's edge, and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, drawing him in.

For just a second, he paused, hesitated, drew the moment out a little bit longer. He watched the anticipation flare up high in her eyes, mirroring his own feelings, before, finally, pushing into her.

"Oh, Gods..." he whimpered at the overwhelming sensation. Being inside her was always wonderful, but this... The physical sensation of, finally, actually, feeling her, skin on skin, was intense. The emotional aspect though...

There were no boundaries between them anymore, nothing that separated them, and it was amazing. They were one.

"Hic–" she gasped, rolling her hips to get him moving, and he complied.

He pushed into her, slowly at first, but quickly going faster and faster. His hand were on her rear, pulling her toward him in time with every one of his thrusts. Her urgent little noises spurred him on, and it took only minutes until they were both high, until Hiccup reached for her clit to push her over the edge completely. Mesmerised, he watched her eyelids flutter, listened to her crying out his name, and felt her clenching tightly around him, rippling along his length until he came as well, buried deep inside her, filling her.

Trembling and panting, they floated down from their mutual peak, leaning against one another, and basked in their closeness. He felt himself soften, but for once, there was no need to pull out, no risk of losing the condom. He held her tenderly, cradling her against his chest, as if to never ever let her go again.

Astrid giggled, and her hand fluttered down to her stomach. "I can feel you," she whispered, grinning. "All bubbly and... and..." she shrugged, giggling some more, and he couldn't help his lips twitching as well.

"And I can feel you, too," he replied equally low. "All these little aftershocks–" he broke off as one of those rippled through her, squeezing him almost playfully, and they chuckled in unison.

"I love you, Astrid," he finally murmured, and kissed her sweetly. "Gods, I do..."

"Mmmmh, I love you, too," she hummed happily, nuzzling his neck.

"But now... Could you hand me the kitchen towels? I feel a bit leaky." She winked at him, and Hiccup snorted, but complied.

They cleaned up, themselves and the kitchen counter, before resuming their former tasks – cooking on Hiccup's part, and Astrid returned to the sofa to retrieve her discarded briefs.

For a while, they worked in companionable silence. It was so easy, so effortless. There was no need to fill every minute with meaningless chatter, no need to always do something together. It was enough to simply be together, to know the other one would be there if needed.

Hiccup could hear Astrid humming to herself while she worked, and it harmonized perfectly with the noises the boiling water made as he grated the rest of the cheese. It was the perfect background music as he added the butter, evaporated milk, and sour cream to the cooked pasta, seasoned the mixture, and then carefully added cheese and water until the creaminess was how Astrid liked it best.

"Okay, dinner is ready," he called over to her, and grinned as she scrambled off the sofa in a hurry.

Eating dinner went about just as easy and comfortable as everything else. They joked and teased one another, and talked about simple daily things like bike maintenance and an upcoming collaboration. Astrid ribbed him a bit by stating that his Mac and Cheese alone was worth staying with him forever, and Hiccup accidentally dropped some pasta on her top while playfully feeding her with his spoon – and greatly enjoyed how she finished her meal topless.

Afterwards, they cleaned up the kitchen together – which turned into more of a water fight than actual cleaning – before they settled in for their film night, both of them dressed in fresh clothes after tossing their soaked outfits into the laundry to dry.

"And what did you have in mind?" Astrid asked as she placed two glasses with fruity lemonade and a bowl of nuts on the coffee table. "After cooking for me, it's your choice today. Although, I'm always up for Doctor Who, as you know. How about The End Of Time? Donna is awesome as half a Doctor, and I love the bittersweet ending."

Hiccup looked at her thoughtfully, and, for a moment, actually considered it. But comforting her through the inevitable tears at the end was not how he wanted this day to end. Then he grinned as he remembered something else.

"No, I have another idea," he countered. "Make yourself comfortable, while I get the Blu Ray from my room."

"What's it doing in your room?" she called after him as he left the living room.

"I... ahm... couldn't stand it lying around here when I bought it," he called back. "And then I forgot that I bought it."

"What is it?" she replied, looking up at him as he returned.

But instead of an answer, he just stared at her. His heart made a painful thud when he saw her lying on the sofa, on that sofa, the one neither of them had even sat on in nearly two months. The memory of the last time she'd sat there rose in his mind, and it made him feel ill. Her eyes met his, and she gave him a cautious smile.

"Good memories over bad ones, right?" she reminded him quietly, and, after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. Slowly, he walked over to her, legs still a bit shaky.

"So, what film do you have there?" she asked in a clear attempt to change the subject.

Hiccup shook off the bad feeling the memory had triggered, and returned to the here and now. She was right, after all. No dwelling on bad memories.

With a small smile, he held out the case of Thor: Ragnarok to her. "I've heard this is a good one. No idea if it's true though, I didn't notice much of the film when I went to watch it."

A wide grin spread across her face. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, beaming.

He plugged it in, and then climbed over her to lie behind her on the comfortable sofa. It felt good to wrap his arm around her waist, to pull her closer against his chest, and to inhale the scent of her hair with every breath he took as the TV flickered to life and Marvel's starting theme played out. It felt good enough to not constantly think about how Eret had been in exactly this position before, during that other film night. And it felt good enough for him to decide that it didn't matter anyway.

It didn't matter what Eret or Heather had done. Not that particular event and nothing else either. All that mattered was that he and Astrid were together now, and that they would do whatever felt good and right, without letting any past events influence them.

It felt good to hold her, to feel her. She was warm and soft and everything he needed. Funny, and witty, and loving, and, oh, so wonderful. He leaned down to place another kiss on her hair, and felt her relax in his arms.

For a while, they simply watched the film, cuddling comfortably. His hand moved over her, slowly and innocently at first, caressing her waist and wandering down to her belly button. She shook with silent giggling as his touch tickled her, her vibrating body against his distracting him.

Without really intending to, his hand wandered on, up her arm, over her shoulder, and brushed her hair aside so he could place light kisses on her soft skin. Humming contently, she rolled her head to the side to give him better access, and leaned back against him until her cute ass pressed against his groin.

Hiccup inhaled sharply as he realised where they were going, but was far from complaining. This, too, had been one of his fantasies, after all. Smirking to himself, he kept his mouth on her neck, nibbling and licking teasingly, while his hand drifted onwards to her breasts, kneading them carefully and pinching her hardening nipples through her fresh shirt. Then he wandered down further still, over her taut stomach, and down between her legs.

Astrid was writhing beneath his touch by now, taking in short and panting breaths. After turning the volume of the TV down, she'd turned to look up at him through clouded eyes, and Hiccup couldn't look away from her.

And he didn't need to, either.

His fingers knew what to do, even without him seeing it. Slowly, they glided over the fabric of her briefs with just enough pressure to let her feel him. Then they teased her further, rubbing her clit through the thin lace, pressing between her folds. When he pushed the fabric aside to really touch her, she moaned and strained toward his touch, needing it, needing more.

But he wanted to take his time. He wanted to lazily play with her body, and watch her twist and tremble. There was no hurry, no hunger for relief, just the simple pleasure of the moment. She was so beautiful like this, hands clenching at his shirt and the cushions below.

When he pushed his fingers into her, first one, then a second, her back arched into his touch, and he watched in rapture as she fought to keep her eyes on him. It didn't take much from there, just a little crooking of his fingers, a little rubbing of his thumb over her clit, until her quivering body became stiff for a second, only to wildly thrash and spasm a moment later. Her orgasm came with a beautifully sinful moan as her eyes rolled back into her head, and then fluttered shut in bliss.

He would never... never... never get enough of her.

"Mhhh, yeah," Astrid hummed lazily after regaining her senses. "Definitely a good memory." She gazed up at him with a dreamy look on her face that spoke of love and happiness. Then she whispered, "Come here, you," and pulled him down to kiss him.

Hiccup adjusted his position in an attempt not to crush her beneath him. He'd meant to let his hand, that still rested over her sex, glide down to prop himself up on the sofa as her surprisingly swift move left him with few other options. He'd not meant for his slick fingers to virtually stick to her skin and glide over her ass instead.

Astrid's low groan and the realisation of where exactly he was touching her drained his face of all blood. "I-I'm sorry," he sputtered, pulling his hand back in a hurry – only to let it glide again over that taut circular muscle! "Shit! Ah... sorry, I... I didn't mean..."

His stammered apology got interrupted by her light chuckle, and Hiccup hoped that his slip-up hadn't angered her in any way.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked drowsily.

He swallowed, hastily drew his hand away from her, and sat up straight. "I didn't... didn't mean to touch you... there. I mean... I know that... that..."

"That what?" she continued when he lost himself in his sputtering, and looked up at him curiously. Then light dawned in her eyes. She relaxed back into the cushions, and, with a small smile on her lips, said, "Ah, don't worry. I don't mind. It's been a while since I had anal sex anyway. I'm more than up for it."

She was joking, right? Teasing him as a punishment for his slip-up? Yeah, that had to be it. Hiccup's vision swam out of focus as the image of him sinking into her pert ass rose in his mind. Hastily, he chased it away, aware of how his cock twitched eagerly at the idea. She hadn't been serious. She couldn't have been.

"Hah, funny," he said shakily, and reached for his glass on the coffee table with a trembling hand. "I'm really sorry, okay? Won't happen again, I promise."

Astrid's quiet chuckling was a bit disconcerting.

"Too bad," she hummed. "But if you don't want to, that's alright."

He threw her a measuring look. She sounded serious. But that couldn't be true, right?

"You... you can stop joking now, Astrid," he stammered as more images appeared behind his eyes. But he didn't even dare to actually imagine... that would... she would kill him!

"I'm not joking."

"Astrid," he pleaded. "It's alright, I learned my lesson. I know that... that women don't like anal sex. And I would... I would never ask for something you don't want to do."

She gave him a long measuring look before sitting up as well. "Hiccup... I do like it," she said earnestly. "It just depends on enough prep and lube." She shrugged offhandedly, and reached for her glass as well.

. o O o .

Smiling inwardly, Astrid sipped at her lemonade. Hiccup was simply too good to be true.

Most men she'd been with hadn't even hesitated for a second whenever she'd indicated she would be up for anal sex.

But Hiccup? No, he was different, of course, he was. She'd blatantly offered it to him, and he still wouldn't go for it out of fear she wouldn't like it. And he clearly wasn't averse to anal sex, either. On the contrary. She'd seen how his cock had grown and twitched at the mere mentioning.

Carefully, she glanced back at him. He sat still, his glass in one hand, the other one opening and closing absentmindedly. He had a strange look on his flushed face, a mixture of lust and curiosity, but also worry and nervousness.

After taking his glass out of his hand and placing both back on the table, she crawled onto his lap to straddle him.

"I really mean it," she murmured into his ear. "I'm more than up to it if you want to."

Hiccup gave a weird strangled noise, and placed his hands on her waist, but only to remove them a second later again. She could feel his cock beneath her, straining against his jogging trousers. Why was he so reluctant if he clearly wanted it?

Then an idea occurred to her, and she retreated to look at him again.

"You've had anal sex before, right?" she asked, incredulously. Surely, he had. He was Hiccup Haddock! He'd literally had sex with hundreds of girls. Surely, he-

"No, I haven't," he replied, voice barely more than a whisper. Biting his lip, he looked away, almost as if he was... embarrassed? "I... I didn't want to pressure them for anything that, surely, they wouldn't want to do. And I've never been with one of them long enough to figure out what else she might like. And..." he swallowed, frowning. "And Heather made pretty clear what she'd do if I ever dared to venture into that direction." He grimaced, though whether due to the reminder of Heather or what she'd threatened him with, Astrid couldn't tell.

With a small smile tugging at her lips, she reached for his hands and placed them back on her waist before leaning in to brush her lips against his.

"Well, I'm not Heather," she teasingly mumbled against his mouth, and it had the desired effect.

Hiccup chuckled and relaxed, holding her more firmly again. "No, you're most definitely not," he agreed, but then paused. "Does it... bother you? That I'm not as... as experienced in that area? I mean, I... I'd love to try, but..." Helplessly, he lifted his shoulders only to let them slump down again. Gods, he was so adorable.

"No, it doesn't bother me," she whispered, dropping her head to avert her eyes "It... it means I can be your first. I–" she took a deep breath as the full meaning of those words hit her. "I... didn't expect that. But I like it," she added, chuckling weakly.

Hiccup chimed in a moment later, nuzzling into her neck. "My first, my last, my one and only," he mumbled, making her giggle even more.

"So, do you want to try?" she asked after they'd calmed down again, feeling like he wouldn't approach that topic on his own again.

And sure enough, he started to fidget nervously right away. "Now?" he asked, his voice noticeably higher than usual.

Astrid fought not to chuckle or even grin at that. He was nervous, no point in teasing him further. "Sure, why not?" she asked as casually as she could. "I'm already fairly relaxed, and as far as I can tell, you're definitely hard enough." Okay, maybe a little teasing was acceptable...

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied with a shaky laughter, his hands running distractedly up and down her sides. "So... erm... what do you... ah... need me to do?"

"Mmhh... we need lube. And a condom wouldn't hurt either. We should have a few spare now, I think. Mind getting those? I have lube in my bedside table, second drawer, back left corner. Oh, and some baby wipes?"

The speed with which Hiccup lifted her off his lap and disappeared into the hallway that led to her room was honestly hilarious. Astrid had to bit her lip pretty hard as not to laugh out loud at his eagerness. He was back in record time, eyes gleaming in anticipation.

"Okay, what now?" he asked after they'd both stripped and were settled on the sofa again.

"Now, I need a little prep," she said, smirking at his member standing at full attention. "I won't be able to take you without."

She lay back, and showed him how to do it, how to massage her sphincter muscle until it permitted first one lubricated finger and then more. She let him try, and quickly began to enjoy the feeling of him fingering her open. Yes, she had long since learned to enjoy this kind of treatment, but having Hiccup doing it still felt so much better.

"Okay, that's enough," she gasped when he had three fingers easily wiggled into her.

He seemed mesmerised, and barely even registered her words, his dilated eyes glued to her body and how it was able to stretch.

"Hiccup?" she addressed him more directly, and, finally, he reacted.

"Mmmh?" came his distracted answer as he absentmindedly reached for a baby wipe to clean his hand. But at least his gaze returned to her face, if a little clouded.

Astrid sat up, and drew him into a deep kiss. She'd meant to distract him, to ease his nervousness, but it rather served to throw them both off track for a bit. His heavy body pressed her down into the cushions as he lay above her, barely remembering to support himself as he kissed her hungrily. He was all hands ravaging her hair and tongue ravaging her mouth, all skin sliding over skin. She let her hands roam up his back, searching and finding the scratches she'd marked him with, and he growled as her fingers brushed over them. A second later, his mouth was on her neck, biting and sucking, and she arched up against him in response. Gods, she needed to have him inside her, and soon.

"What now?" he growled against her skin. He sounded so eager, and yet he still gave her the lead.

"Condom. And more lube," Astrid replied, panting, her arousal betraying her own eagerness as well.

. o O o .

Hiccup followed every single one of Astrid's instructions. He still could barely believe that she actually wanted to do this, but he trusted her. He trusted her that she wouldn't do anything like this just for his sake alone.

With practised ease, he sheathed his cock, and whined needily when Astrid applied bounteous amounts of lube to both him and herself at the same time. This was really happening!

Then she turned, forearms resting on the sofa's backrest, and butt invitingly pointing in his direction.

"Like this?" he asked a little confused, but kneeled down between her legs nonetheless. He'd wanted to see her face, see her reactions, whether he hurt her or anything. As much as he was looking forward to this, he didn't want to hurt her.

"Yeah, it'll be easier that way," she replied, pushing back against his cock. "Just... stay still for a moment, okay? Let me..." she trailed off as his tip brushed over her hole, and they both gasped.

Ohgodsohgodsohgods, was all Hiccup was able to think as she slowly pushed back against him. Without much resistance, his tip slipped inside her, and his mind went utterly blank. She pushed further, and he watched himself sink into her, unable to come up with a single coherent thought.

"So tight..." he whimpered when her cheeks were pressed against his stomach, a sound that Astrid mimicked.

"Mmh... big..."

With shaking fingers, he reached for her, rubbing her back and holding her hips. He fought to further keep still, even though all he wanted was to move, to fuck into her soft and hot body. But he would be good, would wait for her to go on.

It took her a few seconds, seconds in which she twitched and clenched around his cock, seconds during which he thought he might go insane at any moment. But then she stirred, carefully pulling away, only to push back on him again. The movement elicited a moan from them both, and her head dropped down on her arms.

"Okay," she gasped, "Your turn. Just... go slowly at first, okay? It's been a while..."

Hiccup whimpered again, and nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see that. He grabbed her hips tighter, took a shaky breath, and began to move.

It felt weird, different. Slick with all the lube, so tight, so fucking tight, and hot as Hel. He pushed in and out of her, hesitantly, and tried to concentrate on being as gentle as he could be.

Astrid squirmed beneath is hands, trembled and twitched. Then she suddenly pushed back against him, just as he was about to push back in, making his thrust much harder than planned. She groaned loudly, and Hiccup stilled immediately.

"S-Sorry," he gasped. "Did... did I hurt you?"

Astrid, her face buried in the crook of her arm, shook her head. "No," she whimpered. "Didn't hurt... just... Gods..." She shivered, muscles clenching around him.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, worried. He let his hands glide up her smooth back in an attempt to distract them both.

"No!" came her urgent reply. "No, don't stop. Gods, no. Please–" she broke off, voice caught in her throat as she began to move on her own again.

And Hiccup understood.

She'd been serious.

She liked it.

He began to move again, carefully pushing into her tight channel, and her answering moans and whimpers were all the reassurance he needed. Soon, he became more confident, moved with more purpose, became a little faster, thrust a little harder, when her reactions kept spurring him on.

"Gods, Hiccup. Harder!" she begged, voice rough and needy.

Groaning, he complied, went harder, and faster, and harder still when she kept begging for more. Gods, she never got vocal like this. Soon, he was covered in sweat, and panting heavily. He fought not to come too early, to drag it out for her as long as possible, but it was hard. Thor almighty, she felt so good.

"Fuck... Astrid, I... nng... I..." he growled, vision blurring. He was close, so close to losing it. Only a few more thrusts, he wouldn't be able to hold out any longer. Her moans grew in volume, and somehow she seemed to tighten even more around him. It felt like she was choking him, sucking him in even deeper, and it was too much for him.

"Gods, yes! Aahh- Astrid! I... Fuck!" Hiccup shouted as he came, buried deep inside her. Her lustful noises carried him through his height and down afterwards. He tried to go on, as she wasn't done yet. But he softened too quickly, utterly spent after she'd milked him so thoroughly.

"Mmmhh, sorry," he mumbled against her back, embarrassed, and yet still stunned by the intense experience. Carefully, he pulled off the condom and wrapped it into a baby wipe, before slumping down onto the sofa. Mixed feelings crept up in his heart as Astrid snuggled into his side. For him, it had been great, but for her... he hadn't been good enough for her.

"Don't be sorry," she sighed happily. "That was fantastic, even better than I remembered. Or maybe it was just because it was finally you," she added, sounding thoughtful and completely serious.

For a while, Hiccup didn't reply. His arm lay limply over her shoulder, but he didn't dare to touch her further, and he wasn't sure what to do. "But you didn't come," he finally stated, eyes cast down. Sure, this had been his first anal sex, and he obviously had no experience there. And they didn't always climax together, and he could easily get her off otherwise. But still... No matter how much logic he applied, the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.

Not until Astrid chuckled quietly at his side.

"I never do from this," she murmured sleepily against his skin.

Hiccup frowned, and tried to make any rhyme or reason of her words, but finally gave up. "But you said you like anal sex. And now you say you can't come from it? That... that doesn't make much sense."

She sat up to look at him, probably finally sensing his mood. She smiled softly, and leaned in to peck his lips, before she explained, "It feels amazing. Not sure if you noticed, but I really enjoyed it. And I don't need an orgasm for this to feel good. I came before already, that's enough. For now, at least."

He gave her a long, scrutinising look, but then nodded. "You could have said that before, you know?" he pouted. Her explanation was enough for him. She had enjoyed it, that much had been obvious after all. But he didn't want to let her off the hook that easily.

But Astrid didn't fall for it.

"I could have," she grinned. "But that would have made you only even more reluctant. Now, you believe me at least." She cuddled back against his chest, and this time, he took her into his arms properly.

For a couple of minutes, they simply sat there, quietly basking in the afterglow, before Astrid pushed herself up on wobbly legs. It looked almost comically as she stumbled toward the bathroom, as if her legs weren't working right anymore.

"When did you get so drunk?" he asked teasingly as she returned in the same manner. It really looked funny.

But Astrid just poked her tongue out in reaction, and slumped back onto the sofa. "Very funny," she stated flatly, smirking at him good-humouredly. "Get used to it, that's how I'll be walking for the rest of the day. And tomorrow, too, probably. Your fault entirely!"

Sobering up in an instant again, Hiccup pushed himself up to give her a serious look. "Did I hurt you after all?" he asked anxiously. "Gods, Astrid, you should have stopped me. I didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's just because of all those loosened-up muscles. I won't be able to walk straight for a day or so. And I won't be able to sit without my butt stinging for a couple more days, but that's alright."

"Astrid," he began, worried, but she interrupted him directly.

"It's fine, Hiccup! It's just a bruise. Every time I sit down my butt will sting, and I'll remember this amazing hot sex we had. And, damn, did you fuck me good!" she said dreamily. Then she awkwardly climbed onto his lap, facing him, and wound her arms around his neck. Her hands lightly caressed the almost completely healed scratches she'd left on his back over a week ago. "It's like these, sweet little reminders. Just funnier, for you at least." She grimaced, but he could see the amused glint in her eyes.

"Alright," he accepted her explanation. But she would have to live with getting pampered for a few days, he decided. Just to make it up to her.

Smiling warmly, she leaned in and kissed him. Maybe it was simply meant as a short peck, but it ended in a long and intense liplock, one of those where neither noticed the passing of time anymore.

What finally tore them out of enjoying each other was the music.

"I swear, if that menu theme plays even one more time, I'm going to throw the Blu Ray player out of the window," Astrid mumbled, voice saturated by humour despite her unnerved words.

"Totally understandable," Hiccup agreed. "Another thing though... have you noticed anything about the film? Because... I haven't," he added, grinning.

"No, me neither," she replied, giggling. "I guess we'll need to watch it again. How awful..."

"Mmmh, horrible," he chimed in, but then became serious again, if a little corny maybe. "I'd watch it a thousand times with you. And maybe, we'll even make it through it one day."

"Oh, I plan to accomplish that today," she said, sounding quite determined, and reached for the remote controller.

"Maybe we should skip the first twenty minutes or so, though," he mused. "You know, to turn the odds in our favour." They shared a look, and then simultaneously shook their heads.

"No, those are too fantastic already," Astrid giggled. "I want to see Thor sassing out Surtur while dangling on that chain again. And Loki falling for thirty minutes. We can't miss that!"

They made themselves comfortable on the sofa again, cuddled together under one of their soft blankets, and started the film again.

And this time, they actually managed to watch it all.

Okay, I hope this was enough in forms of compensation for the previous two chapters ;)

It also was the last of the epilogues I planned to write. There are at least two more I want to write from your prompts, namely the handcuff-story and ten years later. But I'm not sure when I'm going to write those, as I want to focus more on my next project from now on. Stay tuned ;)

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Unexpected Companion

Summary: Dean wakes up in bed next to someone unexpected...

Square Filled:  ClaireDean

Pairing: Dean x Claire

Word Count: 2,200ish

Rating: explicit (smut (implied drunk sex, protected sex), language)

A/N: Written/created for @spnkinkbingo

Dean woke up feeling something warm and soft under his arm. He smiled, recognizing it as that of a bare woman’s back. He fluttered his eyes open, the back of a patch of blonde hair staring at him. 

His head pounded and he knew he couldn’t remember who this woman was but her hair smelled like honey. He loved when he could smell the shampoo still in a woman’s hair. The sheet was barely covering her ass but he woke up half-hard and was curious if she’d be down for more. Normally he’d expect the woman gone by now or he’d slip out until she got the picture to check out on her own. But the curve of this one’s back, the dip of her tailbone before it curved up over what Dean guessed was a very cute butt...

“Morning beautiful,” said Dean quietly, leaning over, kissing her shoulder. He felt her shift, burying her still unseen face in the pillow. He trailed them down her spine as she shifted some more, waking up now. Dean moved back as she rolled to her side. “How about we-Claire!”

Dean was wide-eyed as he saw the confused young woman staring at him. 

“Loud much?” she said, smiling to herself. “Actually you are kind of loud if I’m thinking about it.”

“Why are you naked in my bed?” asked Dean, shifting back. That’s when he saw the pang of hurt over her face. “Do not tell me-”

“I knew this was going to be a mistake,” said Claire, throwing back the covers and turning away, reaching down to the floor for her underwear and a bra. “I just knew you wouldn’t be able to see me any other way than a kid. Everything you said last night, that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

Dean wasn’t even sure where to begin. He certainly didn’t remember last night or saying anything or even Claire if he was being honest. 

“Hold up kid, what-”

“I’m an adult, Dean. I can screw who I want. Stop calling me kid, douchebag,” said Claire, walking to the other side of the motel room, picking up a pair of jeans.

“Claire,” said Dean. She ignored him as she pulled the denim on. “Claire.”

“What,” she said shortly, throwing her hands up. Dean saw how upset she was and how well she was hiding it. But he needed some answers before she walked out that door.

“I don’t remember anything. Anything Claire. Nothing,” said Dean, Claire crossing her arms over her chest, popping out a hip.

“You were like super drunk. Called me for a ride,” said Claire, she said, dragging her toes back and forth through the carpet. “You’re real chatty about what you want when you’re wasted.”

“Thanks for getting me back here I guess,” said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck. Somehow he got a flash of a memory, of small hands running over that neck not so long ago and he sighed. “Hold up.”

“Later Dean,” said Claire, throwing on her shirt and grabbing her coat. Dean was out of bed and pulling up his boxers, pushing the front door shut just after she opened it. “Oh don’t do the nice guy act. You were drunk, you wanted some, you got some.”

“We had sex last night. I want to know why,” said Dean. “I don’t care how drunk I was. You were a willing participant in all this.”

“Because you’re hot. You’ve got that older guy but still youngish thing going on. God, don’t get all clingy,” said Claire, moving Dean’s arm away from the door.

“What did I say I wanted,” said Dean, planting it down hard. Claire glared at him but rolled her eyes.

“You said, I don’t know, sweet guy crap to make me flustered so you could get me in bed,” said Claire. “Whatever, I’m over it.”

“I’m not,” said Dean. “I don’t do that. Something happened to me and you aren’t telling me the truth.”

“I’m not gonna tell you,” said Claire. Dean took her by the hand and sat down on the edge of the bed, Claire trying to shake him off but sighing. “You got all...weird. Like saying you liked me weird and not in that big brother way I always thought we had going on.”

“What did I say,” said Dean, rubbing circles into the back of Claire’s hand. 

“You said you wished you could be that brave sober,” said Claire. She looked him dead in the eye and Dean suddenly felt like the young one, unsure of how to handle the situation. “Like I said, you were drunk and it’s fine. Just forget this ever happened.”

Some of it was coming back to Dean. The taste of her, the way her skin felt velvety smooth, the curve of her body...that hot, hungry desire that felt strangely safe with her. Dean was doing the math in his head when he realized there was no need. She was an adult. Something happened last time they worked a case, when she was bitten by that wolf. Something he never wanted to admit to himself out loud.

For one, Jody would probably kill him. Claire too if he ever told her the truth. Dean put his head in his hands when he remembered he did tell her. He told her everything last night. That was way too much to put on her, put on anyone really. Yet here she was, still there after those drunken admissions, still choosing to go with him after they were said.

“Claire,” said Dean, reaching for her hand when she stood up. “Stay and we’ll talk about this.”

“Either you were lying when you were drunk or you’re scared and about to start lying now. It’s done Dean. You’re car’s at the bar on sixth. I’ll see you around,” she said, shaking him off. Dean watched her leave, unable to find it in him to go after her.

“We just had to go and fucking tell her we liked her, dumb idiot,” said Dean, falling back in bed, deciding to hide away in the motel room for a while longer.

Two Weeks Later

Claire was quiet, looking like she was trying to hide away in herself which scared the shit out of Dean. Sure, part of her tougher attitude was an act but Claire was a strong person and could hold her own. So the fact that she called him when her hunt went bad, the fact that she wasn’t talking still even though it was settled and done...he knew she shouldn’t be on her own right now.

“Sam’s not here right now,” said Dean, letting Claire look over the bunker, temporarily getting lost in it.

“Why does that matter,” she said, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. 

“I was just telling you. Geez,” he said, pressing against the small of her back, leading her into the hall. He stopped at an empty room and opened it up. “You can crash here as long as you need.”

“I’m fine,” said Claire, dropping her bag and pushing him out. “Goodnight.”

She shut the door in his face and Dean sighed, walking to his room at the other end of the hall and slipping inside. It was late and he’d driven a while to go get her, wanting nothing more than to pass out in bed. Dean slipped out of his jeans and into a pair of black sweats, his flannel tossed in his laundry basket, socks balled up and thrown in along with them.

He wandered to the kitchen, threw on a pot of water and dumped in some stove top mac and cheese. It was easy and he was hungry. He didn’t even bother to sit down and eat, just standing next to the half full pot, shoveling spoonful into his mouth as he glanced around at the quiet room.

“Food,” said Dean a minute later, knocking on Claire’s door, putting the bowl down on the ground just in time to see it swing open. He glanced up and her face was soft. She held out her hand and he handed it to her, catching the slight eye roll as she realized what he’d made. She took a spoonful and nodded her head, Dean turning to go.

“Wait,” she said. “Thanks for...getting me.”

“I owed you one,” said Dean. “Kitchen is just down the hall. Leftovers in the fridge if you want more.”

Dean would have walked away, given her some privacy but she was just staring at him with big wide eyes as she ate quickly. Before he knew it, she was done and putting the bowl down on the desk inside. 

“Do you need anything?” asked Dean. She nodded and he waited for her to speak. And waited. And waited and she just stood there, looking up at him like she was waiting for him to do something. “Claire.”

“Can I sleep with you?” she asked. Dean blinked a few times as she shifted on her feet. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Okay,” said Dean, stepping back, leading her down the hall to his room. He knew that feeling, the one after a bad hunt where he needed to feel something up against him to keep him grounded.

Dean watched Claire get in first, settling in beside her, not used to sharing his actual bed with someone. She closed her eyes and curled into his side, burrowing her head against his shoulder. He moved his arm around her without realizing. 

“Claire,” said Dean quietly. She grumbled and he brushed his thumb over her cheek. She tilted her head up to look at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“You said you don’t like sleeping alone,” she said. Dean gulped. “You really don’t like letting people take care of you, do you?”

“I like it. It doesn’t mean I deserve it,” said Dean, seeing the eyes staring back up look down. “Claire, you should forget everything I said. You’re young and you can find a way less screwed up guy out there.”

“Have you met me Dean?” asked Claire. “My life’s been screwed up since I was a kid. So has yours. A less screwed up guy isn’t going to understand all of that.”

“We shouldn’t. You need-”

“Grow a pair and tell me the truth. Do you like me or not?” she asked. Dean leaned in and kissed her slowly, remembering that taste, doing his best to not let it fill him up and overwhelm him. After a few seconds he pulled away, searching her face for something to tell him he could have this.

She leaned in this time, more force behind her actions, Dean letting her and practically smiling against her lips.

“I like you too,” she said, pulling back, straddling her legs over his torso.

“Claire,” said Dean, trying not to groan when she kissed along down his jaw. “You have got to be honest with me right now, before we go any further. When I said like, I didn’t mean in the I want to screw you way. I meant-”

“I know what you meant Dean. Relax. I’m not doing this for the sex,” she said. “Even though it was good.”

“Jody’s going to murder me,” said Dean, sliding his hands up Claire’s back.

“No she won’t. We’ll just have to explain it to her,” said Claire, tossing her shirt to the side, pushing Dean’s pants down enough to expose him. “I’m a big girl. I can pick who I want.”

She didn’t have the patience to let Dean take her underwear off and neither did Dean for that matter. He caught her waist and pulled her down next to him, listening to her groan. Dean reached into his nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom and tore it open fast, rolling it over his length.

Claire watched him as he did it, her breaths growing heavier before she got back on his lap, pushed her underwear to the side and sunk down fast.

Dean didn’t know why he thought she’d want something soft and slow but damn he wasn’t going to last if she kept riding him like that. He went to ask her to slow it down but when her eyes met his, he decided he felt too good and to just lay back and enjoy it. There’d be plenty of opportunities to learn every inch, every touch, every thing she liked.

He came first, hot and hard and Claire clenched around him when he did, ripping an honest to God moan from him. She giggled, liking the noise obviously and went a bit faster, chasing her own end, finally coming herself and nearly sending Dean into a second orgasm if he could have had one that soon.

“Was that okay?” she asked, like she thought maybe Dean hadn’t enjoyed himself. He helped her off and discarded the condom in the trash, pulling his pants up and giving her shirt back. 

“That was definitely okay,” said Dean, pulling her into his body the second she was dressed again. She laughed and he kissed her forehead. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? With us being a thing?” asked Claire. Dean only held her tighter, throwing his legs over hers. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Night sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to her lips. 

“Night Dean.”