#so my fucking register is empty as all hell and these stupid idiot assholes only pay with 50 and 100 bills like the monkey brains they are

[binch-i-might-be]

I'm going to make a button saying "I hate customers (especially you)" and wear it to work every day until I finally get fired (=freed from the curse)

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 4

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 4.7k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity ; awkwardness

previous - next

The issue is that Jungkook -and you're not a bitch for thinking that- is a little bit of an idiot.

He can be very smart. He can be wise and present unsuspecting resources and knowledge. He can teach you things you don't know anything about, figure out others you struggle to -but not during stressful times like for say an escape game because during those, he turns absolutely, utterly useless. 

But he is an idiot too. An idiot that sometimes shapes situations and conclusions and ideas in a very peculiar way that is very singular to him.

That’s precisely what happens then. He plays his role right, to its full extent, with great dedication and commitment. Except he missed a memo, misread the script and ends up playing a role that's not the one you planned for him. He believes that he’s your new adult toy provider (as if there is such a thing).

When you think he’s coming over to share a meal or play some game or binge-watch a series you promised to wait for him to experience together, he has a box hidden in his pocket or carried under his arm. 

He has the decency to not comment on it the first time around. He just set it down on the coffee table, between the bowl of chips and the one filled with guacamole. You see the logo on top of it. You recognize the design, reffined, minimalist with the pretty pastel matte colour. 

He probably identifies the shame and the annoyance on your face, painting your cheeks and reshaping your eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything. Simply smiles to himself and starts talking about the series’ new episode that’s about to start. 

It takes a lot of efforts, coming from you, to ignore the conspicuous object sitting just in front and in between you. But eventually, probably because more than a decade of friendship with this guy have grown impressive mind muscles on you, you manage to make abstraction of it. 

It just stops existing for a while until he leaves and you’re curious to see what’s inside. And again you have the same old intentions as before. The same ones.

You won’t use it. 

It’s curiosity. And it's fine for you to be curious because he’s the one buying it and gifting it to you. Why should you be blamed?

Freshly hopped in bed, just done reading the notice hanging over your face, you’re yawning and sending your eyebrows high in interest. Again you won’t use it but it sounds very interesting. That’s when you get a text from him.

Guk

So about the toy!

As if you were waiting for his explanation. As if the conversation got cut short and you were expecting him to pick it back up whenever possible.

You won’t entertain him.

You

I said not to buy me this.

Guk

You never said that! You said something about me being crazy but never about buying one again

Because you're mostly made of petty bitch material, you scroll higher quickly, wishing to find something, any text that would corroborate what you’re saying.

You don’t find anything though. Because you never actually told him to not buy you other toys by text, and now that you come to think of it, you probably never did out loud either because you didn’t fucking know that he would even consider doing so.

It’s not even Christmas anymore. It’s not your birthday. There’s even less of a valid reason for him to get you this therefore, of course, you did not explicitly warn him not to, you didn’t think it would be necessary.

You

It’s not even my fucking bday why???

Guk

I told you the lady at the shop

But who the hell is that lady?

Guk

She talked about a lot of products and they all seemed cool and because you liked the other one I thought I’d get you this one too

You

Jungkook

This simple response says a lot, you hope he can read between the pixels of his screen the desperation, the irritation, the frustration, the silent insults. 

Guk

Listen it’s super cool it's supposed to mimic the touch of a finger

Jungkook then proceeds to explain to you how it works. The original idea being a system with a tiny ball rolling under a silicon skin, to place on your clitoris to have the illusion of a finger's touch. And it’s interesting and innovative surely and sounds intriguing as in, you wonder if it’s accurate, but you’re tired and it seems like you’re wading in some sort of swamp you can’t escape from. There’s a fire burning your skin from your cheeks to your chest. You’re both hating this conversation and unwilling to just draw a final period to it. This asshole.

You

I can read

Guk

So you opened it already??

There’s a bunch of excited emojis that follows his last message and fill up the empty space your lack of response leaves. 

Why and how can he be so eager?

Here comes the delusional part of your brain. It’s a very wide, very deep hallway covered in bookshelves filled to the brim with stupid interpretations and beliefs and sometimes even memories you’ve shared with him. Often next to the laters are pinned an article from a teenage magazine or the jacket of a romance movie, specifically there to validate that yes, indeed, it must have meant something. 

The door of that corridor just creaked opened. You can discern the sound, you can feel the particular atmosphere without even having to take a step through. 

Is it really that normal to be so excited about that? For him? As a friend?

It’s the most frustrating part: you are friends. Friends who supposedly can tell each other everything. Friends who can ask each other anything. 

You should be able to talk about it. Just ask him. If there’s anything behind this whole mess, if he means to tell you something, if it’s wholly mindless, if there’s no hidden agenda.

It should be fine. There’s only trust and affection in this friendship. 

You are still too scared, you are terrified that he’d start linking dots, ask himself some new questions, potentially answer them himself, and have you all found out.

You'd have your barely well-worn cover thrown completely away. 

You send the blank emoji. The one with even the eyes closed. It summarizes your actual state pretty well, speechless, relatively annoyed. 

Guk

She said you could try it on other parts of your body too

Guk

At first

Guk

Like on your lips or your nipples

You want to die.

Now.

No, better, you wish to have never been born. 

Why is he talking about your nipples? Why?

And through all that, you still feel like something is wrong with you, along with your feelings. 

Turns out you are so overwhelmed by his clueless inadequacy, you need a good half an hour and a random shot of tequila to get through it. When it’s gone and exhaustion of a long day and alcohol have knocked nervousness and panic out, you fall asleep, forgetting about answering his outrageous last texts. 

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

Min's finger stops midair, above the cash register she's been working on. She needs a good minute to get back to her senses and while you wait, anxiety invades you. Maybe you should never have brought it up. 

But this question, the torturous thing is slowly killing you.

Min finally turns her head to you, eyes squinted and eyebrows drawn low. She sucks in her pretty red lips before opening them to start formulating, with it seems a certain struggle, an answer. 

“I don’t think I quite understand.”

It’s a pretty straightforward, relatively easy question. That’s what you'd want to say but you’ve reached the state of bashful regret and decide not to press it. Some things are better just left alone. 

“Who talked about your nipples?” She ends up asking the one thing you wished she wouldn’t because there is no way you’re giving his name. 

“Doesn’t matter.” You mumble, turning around slightly, getting back to the task you were here, paid, to do -wipe the shelves clean and not talk about your “““love””” life. 

“I think it does. You wanna know if it means something? Like the guy's into you?”

“Something like that.” Your cheeks are aflame now. No doubt about it. You silently curse at your manager who refuses that you don’t wear the ugly hat that holds your hair back because having a curtain of hair to hold behind, as a help to keep some of your remained, sparse dignity would have been peachy. 

“What did he say exactly?”

Silence. You’re not elaborating. She sighs, defeated. 

“Well, I suppose... he’s considered the fact that you have boobs. If it’s a straight guy, that’s a good sign, I guess?” She shrugs.

You don’t like the answer. It’s exactly what the wrong, defective part of your brain, the one directly wired to your heart, wanted to hear. 

She doesn’t even have the context, anyway. It doesn’t mean much, doesn’t hold much power in your court of sensibility. 

She stares at the side of your face, clearly attempting to drill holes in your head to try and find some answers. You’re awfully silent, have said too much yet not enough and she’s dying to know the whole story. You won’t give in and she can tell. There’s no way you’re sharing the whole thing. The most, probably, probative point of the whole story: the sex toys. It’d turn her into a devastating tsunami of nonsense and misinterpretation and drown you in its wake and you can’t, when you’re already struggling to stay afloat, allow that.

Tag list: @fangirls94 @realswimshaddy @safi4x @pnkd @somewhereinthestarss @kpopfandomftw @kai-kai-bookshelf @pasteljoonie @ggukkieland

A/N: Don’t forget to click on the next button on top, two parts are being posted simultaneously :)

[mochegato]

If Love is Pain, Let’s Hurt Tonight

“Here's to the painful, miserable, pointless, painful experience that is love,” Marinette held up her shot glass waiting for Roy to join.  

Roy didn’t keep her waiting long.  He raised his glass to match hers, letting out a grunt of agreement before slamming back the drink.  He set the glass back down and studied her for a moment.  She didn’t seem sad anymore, which was good.  He didn’t want to have to console a sad Marinette, and honestly that guy wasn’t worth her tears.  Instead, she seemed resigned after her break up, more lonely than missing him.

Roy knew what had happened as soon as she showed up at his door with a bottle of liquor and a broken smile.  He let her in so she had a supportive place to get over it, better here with him than alone at a bar somewhere, but he wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t glad they finally broke up.  That asshole wasn’t good enough for her.  What the hell was a stock broker anyway?  Made up, bullshit job.  He never realized the gift he had in her.

Roy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  “You said painful twice.”

“I didn’t say it enough,” she looked at him pointedly and poured another shot for them both.  “Here's to crappy dates and worse relationships.”  She raised her glass again.  He nodded and matched her, raising his shot before drinking.

He filled their glasses again and raised his glass this time.  “Here’s to loveless loved ones that make you feel unworthy and unlovable.”

“Heyyyyyy,” she brightened at his participation and raised her glass in agreement and drank.  She filled their glasses again before raising hers.  “Here’s to looking for love in all the wrong places and not finding it where you want it.”

Roy eyed her wryly and raised his glass to drink. He knew all about not finding love where you wanted to find it.  He looked away from her to fill the glasses again, trying to remember if he had restocked his liquor supply recently because they were going through this bottle awfully quickly.  “Here’s to falling in love with villains,” he offered raising his glass.  He may have gotten Lian out of it, but that was the only good thing about that relationship.

He raised the drink to his lips but stopped, noticing that Marinette didn’t do the same.  He raised an eyebrow at her lack of participation.  She had an adorable pout as she contemplated her drink.  “I can’t drink.  I never dated a villain.”

“Villains and assholes,” he corrected, leaning toward her and holding his drink toward her conspiratorially.

Marinette immediately brightened and raised her glass, clinking it against his.  “That I’ve done.”  She downed the shot quickly and winced at the burn down her throat. “Almost exclusively lately.”

Roy poured another shot for her and turned on the television to hopefully distract her from getting too bad of a hangover tomorrow.  The move had questionable success.  The drinking slowed, but didn’t stop.  Instead the distraction seemed to give her more time to think.  Her previously jovial mood had become much more contemplative and quiet.  Finally, after a few more slow shots she over up at him, an introspective frown pulling the corners of her lips down.  “Is it me?”

Roy whipped his head back to her as though he hadn’t been studying her in his peripheral vision the entire time anyway. “What?”

“Is it me,” she repeated, staring at the coffee table. “Am I the problem?  Is that why I can’t find a good relationship?”  She gasped as a sudden realization hit her and turned to him.  “Am I a bad kisser?”

She looked at him desperately causing him to freeze.  He would give just about anything to be able to answer that question, but their relationship had never been like that, no matter how much he would like it to be. He turned away and focused on his drink instead.  “I wouldn’t know,” he muttered.

“Kiss me!” She sat up straight on the couch and turned so her entire body faced him, an excited look on her face.

“What?”

“Kiss me.  Tell me honestly if I’m a bad kisser.”  Roy stared at her, mouth hanging open for a few seconds. Marinette’s face slowly morphed from excited to horrified to sad.  “Never mind. You don’t want to do that.  That was a stupid id…”

Roy launched at her before she could finish the sentence, crashing his lips into hers.  If this was the only chance he was going to have to kiss her, he was going to make it worth it.  He worked his hand behind her head, pulling her close.  His other hand cupped her face as his lips slid against hers.  She whimpered into his lips and ran her tongue along his lower lip.  He gladly granted her access and moved his head to deepen the kiss.  She melted into him and wound her hands around his shoulders to pull him closer then moved them to cradle his face.

They finally pulled apart after a few minutes, gasping for breath.  When her breath had evened out she looked up at him questioningly.  “Well?” she quietly breathed out.  

He stared at her still too dazed to form words. He blinked a few times still trying to process her words.  “Huh?”

She backed away from him as far as the couch would allow and looked down sadly.  “Was it that bad?”

He blinked a few more times.  The words still weren’t registering.  That was one of, if not the best kiss he’d ever had and his heart still hadn’t returned to its regular rhythm.  He looked away as he remembered.  That’s right. This didn’t mean anything to her. It wasn’t about him.  She didn’t love him.  This was about helping her figure out how to keep someone she did love. He shook his head to try to focus on her question.  “It was…” he turned to his drink and filled it again.  “It’s not your kissing,” he reassured her bitterly.

Marinette sat back proudly and filled her glass for a celebratory drink.  “Thanks. You’re really good too.  I mean you didn’t say I was really good, but you are.”

He flushed red and kept his focus on the drink and the television.  This wasn’t about him.  This was about her, helping her get over her latest loser and ready to find the next one.

Marinette watched the television with him for another little while, her proud smile slowly morphing into a contemplative frown. “So it’s just me then.  My personality that drives them away.”

Roy sighed and cursed his luck to be the one she came to tonight.  Why did it have to be him?  Why did he have to be the one she came to so she could recover and get back out into the field and date yet another asshole who didn’t appreciate her?  “Maybe it’s just like you said.  You’re looking in the wrong places.”

“Where should I look instead?” she asked with such earnestness in her eyes it hurt him not to answer her.

“How about right fucking next to you,” he grumbled under his breath, not trying to be heard.

She looked on either side of her and frowned, her brow creasing in melancholy.  “It’s empty.” She looked up at him with glassy eyes. “You think I should be alone?”

“What?” he exclaimed.  That was most definitely not what he had meant.  How is that even what she got out of that?  “No!  No, I… I meant… never mind.”  He gave an exasperated sigh and took another drink.

She watched him for a few moments like she was contemplating him or his words.  She suddenly gasped again and shot forward, her eyes huge.  “What if I’m bad at sex?”  Roy stopped breathing and kept his eyes decidedly focused on the television.  He clamped his mouth shut to keep himself from repeating the refrain that kept running through his head.  Please ask my opinion.  Please ask my opinion.  Please ask my opinion.

Just as quickly as she shot forward, she slumped back against the cushions.  “No, most of my relationships never got that far.  That couldn’t be it.”

Roy huffed out an annoyed breath.  “Of fucking course we don’t need to test that one. Fucking annoying,” he muttered under his breath, taking another drink and quickly filling his glass for another.

“What?” she cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“I said you’re annoying,” Roy shot back without thinking, downing the other shot.

Marinette looked away and chuckled bitterly. “Well, that answers the personality question, I guess.”  She took another shot and leaned back against the couch to focus on the television. “Don’t annoying people deserve love too? I just want to fall in love and have them love me back.  Is that too much to ask?”

Roy winced at her tone.  He hadn’t meant to say she was annoying.  Not really.  He just needed something to say as cover for what he actually did say.  It was something he would say normally and she’d laugh, tell him to fuck off.  But now, she was not in the mood and he should have known that.  He watched her as she pretended to focus on the television, wanting desperately to be able to run his fingers over the creases in her brow to smooth them out, to ease her pain, make her smile.  “No,” he answered quietly, “it isn’t too much.  You deserve it.”

She looked over at him and quickly looked down shyly.  “Thank you. So do you.”

He scoffed and poured himself another drink. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Hey,” she reached out to stop his arm from lifting his drink to his lips.  “It absolutely is.  You deserve so much and you don’t even see it.”  She lowered her hand and shook her head.  “You’re an idiot.”

He let out a bitter laugh and downed the shot. “Thanks.  I know.”

“Because you don’t realize how amazing you are,” she continued.  “You’re creative and loyal and smart, God so smart, and brave and kind and hot and sweet and…”she stopped herself and suddenly backed away again, pouring herself another shot.  “I hate love.” She downed the shot, refusing to look in his direction.  “It only causes pain.”

He blinked at her a few times.  Had she meant that about him?  And why did she transition from talking about him to taking about love?  “Marinette?”

“Yes?”

She looked at him with her big, beautiful, blue eyes.  He could almost fool himself into believing he saw adoration in her eyes.  “How drunk are you?”

She scoffed at him this time.  “Not enough.  Still capable of rational, lucid decision making.  Clearly, need more liquor so I don’t have to think anymore, can’t remember anymore.”  

He watched her avoid his eyes, pretending like she was okay.  And she was pretending.  He was the world’s foremost expert on pretending.  He knew the signs.  “Mari, those people are idiots to not want to be with you, to not want to spend as much time as possible with you, for not realizing how incredible you are.”

“But… you said I was annoying,” she said quietly. She looked up at him with uncertainty and vulnerability radiating from her.  He couldn’t let that continue.

“Marinette,” he started, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for ruining their friendship.  He moved so he was kneeling on the floor in front of her.  “You are annoying.  Your smile is annoying because it’s so bright and blinding.  Your laugh is annoying because it's light and bright and makes the entire mood lighter.  Your huge heart is annoying because it puts you and your heart in danger ALL the time. Your eyes are annoying because they’re clear and kind and make the people seeing them feel hopeful.  Your lips are annoying because they’re plump and soft looking.  Your kiss is annoying because it was warm and mind-blowing.  It’s all annoying because it isn’t meant for me.  That’s what makes it annoying.”  He cradled her head in his hands and gently ran his thumbs over her cheeks.  He furrowed his brow and gave her a desperate look.  “Can we play pretend for tonight?  Pretend we love each other?  Make each other’s pain go away for a night.”

“I don’t want to pretend,” she whispered, moving closer to him until her breath was fanning out over his face.

He shook his head and angled his head to a better position.  “I don’t have to.”  His voice had turned husky and barely audible.

“Neither do I.”  She pushed the last few centimeters to close the gap between them and capture his lips with her own.

<><><><><> 

Roy moaned as the light hit his eyes.  Usually the light didn’t get him unless he’d slept into the late, late morning. He turned over, trying to find respite from the light.  He moved slowly so he wouldn’t wake up Marinette.  His eyes flew open and he shot up.  Marinette! That’s why he had slept late enough for the light to hit him.  He and Marinette had kept each other awake until the early morning.

He looked over to the other side of the bed to see how she felt now that the alcohol had worn off.  The bed was empty.  They’d fallen asleep with his arms around her and her nuzzling into his chest.  But Marinette was gone.  He groaned and collapsed back onto the bed.  He ran his hand over his face and into his hair. She left.  Shit he ruined everything.  She woke up, realized how much of a fuck up he is, and got the fuck out as quickly as she could.

He never should have let them sleep together last night, let alone repeatedly. She wasn’t in her right mind.  He hadn’t been either, but he should have waited and now he’d ruined their friendship.  He jumped at his phone when it started ringing.  Maybe she was calling.  That was perfect.  They could talk about this and figure out where they were, hopefully, if he begged and promised never to look at her again, they could get back to friends.

He almost threw the phone when he saw it was Jason.  “What do you want?” he demanded rougher than Jason deserved. But then again, he had almost definitely done something at some point to deserve it.

“Where are you?” Jason demanded back, rougher than Roy had been.

“In my apartment.  Where are you?” Roy asked petulantly.

“In the garage where you’re supposed to be, asshole,” Jason answered shortly.

Fuck! Roy looked at the clock.  It was after ten.  He was supposed to meet Jason to work on his bike.  He groaned.  This day just kept getting better and fucking better.  He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees to cradle his head.  “Sorry.  I’m not making it today.”

“What the fuck, jackass?  What am I supposed to do about my bike?” Jason yelled.

Roy sighed and ran his hand over his face again.  Jason needed his bike for a job.  He didn’t have time to wait for Roy to get his act together.  “Sorry.  I… yeah, fine.  I’ll get there in a little bit.”

“Hurry the fuck up,” Jason growled at him.

“Yeah, okay,” Roy answered quietly.

The line went silent for a few moments.  Roy almost tossed his phone at the call ending but Jason finally spoke up again.  “What’s with you?”

“Nothing.  I’ll get there when I get there,” Roy promised already starting to get up.

“Bullshit.  You’re acting funny.  What happened?”

Roy fell back to sit on the edge of the bed again.  “I… I fucked up.”

“What’s fucking new?” Jason scoffed.

Roy shook his head and looked longingly at the wall.  If he was closer, he could hit his head into it a few times, really drive the pain home.  “I really fucked up this time.”

“Okay…” Jason prompted him.

“I slept with Marinette last night,” Roy groaned out.

“Fucking finally!” Jason cheered.  “Fine, you two… wait, what do you mean fucked up?  What did you do?”

“I told you I slept with her.  I… we were drunk.  I shouldn’t have slept with her.  Fuck. I ruined everything.  She’s going to hate me.”

“Pixie’s not going to hate you.  What did she say this morning?”

“She left before I woke up.”  He chuckled bitterly.  “She always was the smart one.  Got out as quickly as she could.”

“Okay, grab something to eat, take a shower, get here when you get here.  I’ve got to make a call.”  The line cut off quickly.

Roy pulled on some underwear and pajama bottoms and tucked his phone into the pocket.  He made his way to the kitchen to start coffee.  Today was definitely a multiple cups of coffee day.  He was going to need lots of coffee to deal with this day.  Maybe he could take a few extra thermoses of coffee with him to the garage.  He just got to the kitchen when his phone started ringing again.  His brow furrowed in confusion when he looked at his phone and realized his screen was still black.  He jumped back when he heard a groan from the couch.

“What do you want, Jay?” Marinette croaked out sleepily.  She sat up slowly, rubbing her hand over her face.  “Why do you want to know where…” she paused to let him speak.  Her eyes widened in surprise.  “How did you…”  She looked around her and squeaked when she saw Roy staring at her, frozen in uncertainty. She gave Roy a timid wave and an awkward smile.  “No I’m… I… uh… still here.  I just moved to the couch.”

She turned away quickly and hunched over her phone.  “I will,” she tried to whisper into the phone.  She sighed and rubbed her forehead.  “We both know you’re not going to kick my ass…” she sat straight up suddenly and glanced back at Roy for a second before turning away again.  “Yes, yes.  Fine.  I got it. Just stop threatening him,” she whisper shouted into the phone.  “I’ll tell him…” she paused again.  “I don’t know if there’s anything to congr…” she stopped when he cut her off.  “I’ll try not to.  Thanks, Jay.”  

She ended the call and took a deep breath before standing to face Roy.  “Hi,” she said shyly, waving at him again, slowly making her way around the couch to the same side as him.  “Jay said not to worry about the garage?”

“You’re still here,” he observed breathlessly, ignoring Jason’s message.

“I… You mentioned a while ago that Lian sometimes still crawls into bed with you in the mornings.  We hadn’t discussed what this,” she motioned between them, “meant and I didn’t want her to find me there if this wasn’t going anywhere.”  She looked away and hugged her arms around herself.  “Sorry, I should have left but I didn’t want to call someone to pick me up and have to talk about it with them and I wasn’t in any condition to make it home on my own and cabs in this town, you know, it’s hit or miss.”

“No, I’m glad you stayed.  I thought…” he paused, cutting himself off and felt his lips spread into a goofy smile. “You stayed.”

“I stayed,” she confirmed with a tentative smile.  Her eyes darted behind him and returned to him, her face becoming serious.  “I can go now though, before she wakes up.  I’m sober enough now.”

He shook his head as he walked over to her, stopping just in front of her close enough for him to reach over and touch her, but he restrained himself.  He wasn’t sure how she felt about last night and he didn’t want to presume.  “Lian isn’t here.  Remember? She was with Oliver and Dinah yesterday and I’m picking her up at dinner tonight.”

“Oh… right… that”s… yeah, you told me that.  Drunk me didn’t remember that,” she hit her hand on her head and gave him a sheepish smile.

He chuckled and started to reach out toward her but pulled his hand back just before it touched her as he realized what might be causing her resistance.  “Unless you were looking for an excuse to get away. We can pretend she’ll be coming out any second,” he offered quietly.

Marinette shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on Roy.  “I’m not.  I just didn’t want to confuse or upset Lian.”

Roy chuckled and leaned against the back of the couch close to Marinette.  “Finding you in our apartment or even in my bed wouldn’t upset Lian.  She loves you.  She asks for you to stay over all the time.  The only thing that might upset her is that you’re sleeping in my bed and not having a sleepover with her.”

Marinette gave him a relieved smile and leaned against the couch too.  “I guess I can schedule some sleepovers with her. We can have some girl time.”

“And what about me?” Roy asked hopefully.

“Do you want me to have sleepovers with you too?” She asked uncertainly, like she was looking for confirmation that it was something he would be okay with, let alone want.  As though he would ever say no to her.  Like he was more worthy than her.  

He mentally scoffed at the very idea.  She was the prize.  She was the amazing one.  She always had been.  She was a goddess and he was just him.  A screw up who tried his hardest and still screwed up everything he touched.  He kept falling, kept failing and Marinette shined. She didn’t even have to work at it but she still did.  God, he loved her.  And she was staring at him like he was deserving and he really wanted to be.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her between his legs.  “God, please yes.”  She let out a shuddering, relieved breath and melted into his embrace, hugging him back tightly.  She pulled away just enough to look up at him with a loving smile.  He cupped her face with his hand and looked over her face studying it in awe until he bent down to kiss her slowly.  He pulled away too soon for Marinette’s liking.  “I just wanted to do that sober.”

“As good as you remember?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

“Better,” he smiled back at her and brushed her bangs away from her face, returning his hand to cup her jaw.  “I’ve wanted to do that since I met you.”

She laid her hand on top of his.  Her eyes shined up at him.  “I’ve been waiting for you to.”  She wound her other hand behind his neck and pulled him down to her lips, capturing them in a passionate, desperate kiss.  His arm tightened against her waist, pulling her closer and holding her flush against him with one hand.  His other hand ghosted over her neck and down her side and back up again, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.  Her fingers moved to trace the lines of his muscles on his abdomen, chest, and arms.

She whined as he pulled away from her, but squeaked when he picked her up by her thighs to straddle him, walking them back toward the bedroom.  “Let’s start that sleepover now,” he whispered huskily against her lips.  She giggled and pulled herself up to kiss up his neck and nibble on his ear as he struggled to focus on making it to the bed without falling.

 Tags:

@boldlyanxious

[tales-of-magic-and-chaos]

And there was only one bed

Based on the prompt "vacation home + there was only one bed" submitted by the adorable @lokistrk on Twitter! (yes vacation home somehow turned into hotel room kdkslxnlsjxs)

"YOU HAVE TO BE SHITTING ME."

Stephen sighed, watching Tony's dismayed face. Despite the situation, he had to admit his devastated look was quite comical.

Before he could answer, though, another voice made itself heard behind Tony.

"May I know why Anthony is screaming his head off and, more important, why are you two in MY room?"

Stephen scoffed.

"it's more like MY room. I was here first. I'm the one who should ask you this question." As if to prove his words, he showed with a gesture of his arm his belongings already magically tidied in the large wardrobe.

Tony seemed to wake up from his consternation.

"I already said to you, it's MY room. FRIDAY checked for me and everything, there's no mistake.", he said, shaking his head. "Besided, I don't know if you two managed to enter by magic or whatever but I'm the one with the pass for the room."

Loki raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"I'm curious to know how you obtained this", Loki waved his hand, making his pass appear. "Because I'm obviously the one with the true pass."

Stephen made a few steps in their direction, starting to get frankly annoyed. He showed them a third pass.

"I really don't know what game you two are playing but it's starting to get on my nerves." He pointed the door. "So you two douchebag better get the fuck out of here and find someone to help you find your room if you're not capable to do it by yourself!"

Loki raised his hands, ready to fight.

"I beg your pardon?! It's clearly you two who should get out of there, I'm not idiotic like you to confound my hotel room for someone else's!"

With a snap of his fingers he emptied the wardrobe and put Stephen's possessions back in the suitcase. Immediately, Stephen responded by putting back his belongings where they were.

"Don't touch my stuff, it's MY room, idiot!"

"What the hell, Harry Potter? It's mine!"

"No mine, nitwit!"

"No mine!"

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Asshole!"

"Douchebag!"

"You complete moron!"

"You dipstick!"

After a long moment, where they kept exchanging witty, clever and very relevant arguments, Tony finally stopped, raising his hand in sign of peace.

"Ok, ok. Calm down, Gandalf and Saruman. I'll definitely prove it's my room so we can settle this ridiculous argument.", he looked at the two sorcerers watching him suspiciously. "FRIDAY? Can you tell us whose room it is?"

"Yes, Boss." The voice made a short pause. "The room 107 is marked as Mr. Laufeyson," Loki grinned and was going to let out a victorious exclamation when the AI continued. "..., Mr. Stark and Mr. Strange's room on the hotel's registers."

"... What?"

"This hotel room is reserved for Mr. Strange, Mr. Laufeyson and you, Sir."

Stephen shook his head in disbelief.

"I can't believe it, how is this possible?! We were not even informed!"

Loki groaned, this situation was starting to be seriously irritating.

"Who was the stupid incompetent in charge of reserving for the stay?! I think I'll need to have a little discussion with this imbecile."

"For once I agree with you. I have a few things I would like to tell them as well.", approved Stephen.

Tony gulped.

"Guys… It's Natasha who was in charge of reserving the rooms."

"..."

"Oh."

And then there was silence.

A thick and awkward silence.

"You know what... After all, it's a large room."

"Yeah, a very large room. There's enough space for the three of us, no need to make a fuss about it."

"Agree, it's not that important, really, it's not necessary to bother the Agent Romanoff for such silly details."

"Yep. She definitely has other things more important to consider. And it's a nice room, great decoration..."

"Indeed."

After another uncomfortable silence, shorter this time though, Tony stretched his arms.

"Anyway! I'm warning you, I'm sleeping in the middle, I don't care if you fall from the bed!"

Loki frowned.

"No way. It's obviously me who should sleep in the middle"

"Oh, and why so, princess?", asked Tony with arms akimbo.

"Because, I'm obviously the one whose sleep is the most important and you two are too-"

Once again, Stephen sighed. He couldn't believe he had to put up with such morons. It was going to be a very long stay.

"Loki, get the fuck away from me, you're fucking COLD."

"You get away from me, second-class wizard! You're taking the whole space!"

"Nonsense! You're the one spreading yourself out as if you were alone."

Tony turned around, annoyed.

"Can't you two SHUT THE FUCK UP. There's people trying to sleep!"

"Don't stick your oar in, asshole. I remind you you're the one taking the whole fucking blanket!"

"So what?! I'm cold!"

"YOU HAVE THE SIZE OF A SMURF FOR GOD'S SAKE."

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

"Pssst. Hey… are you sleeping?"

"Shut the fuck up, Stark."

"So that's a no."

"..."

"I'm going to fucking kill you two."

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

"WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A SNAKE IN THE BED OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE."

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

"Hey, who's sleeping on my left?"

"Tony… You're the one the most on the left…."

"We're both on your right."

"..."

"WHAT-"

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

"..."

"..."

"Is he… Is he floating while sleeping?!"

"Honestly, don't ask me…"

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

"I have no idea whose foot it is, but if the person could move it from my face, IT WOULD BE NICE."

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

"Is this the good time to warn you I sometimes speak during my sleep?"

"So you REALLY NEVER SHUT UP?!"

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

"HOLY FUCK YOU FUCKING SOMNAMBULIST ASSHOLE, I NEARLY DIED FROM SURPRISE."

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

"Does the Cloak sleep too?"

"... I won't even bother answering this."

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

"... Why is there someone on the ceiling?"

"Hm? Don't worry, it's only Peter."

"HOW-"

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

"Why… Why is there a damn KNIFE under the pillow?!"

Clint couldn't stop laughing.

"I can't believe you actually put these three together in the same room! You're really devilish."

Natasha simply smirked, satisfied. She took another sip from his cup of tea, quietly listening and observing everyone's reaction.

"I must admit I'm surprised we didn't see them throw a tantrum… I was prepared for a scene, a true storm or at least something… But they didn't seem to react at all.", said Steve, shaking his head in disbelief.

Sam chuckled.

"If you want my opinion, they were too scared by Natasha to dare say anything."

"Maybe… Or perhaps, they were not that displeased with the situation..", suggested the Russian spy, hiding a knowing smile behind her cup.

"Still…" Bruce seemed worried. "It's past 11 am. They should already be out of bed now…"

Steve put his hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"Do you want us to go verify if they're alright?"

Bruce nodded.

"Yeah. Let's do this."

"So? You can see something?"

"How did you manage to enter without the pass…"

"Bold of you to assume I can't open any closed door."

"Shh! I'm trying to hear if they're here…"

Clint opened the door wider, discreetly entering, followed by the others.

"I don't see anything, maybe they're not-…"

"They're not what? Oh-"

The group of curious simply stared at them, dumbstruck, for a few minutes.

"Well… Seems like they got along well finally."

These certainly were the best holidays Loki, Tony and Stephen ever had.

Of course, it had no link with the fact they were sharing the same room and bed.

Of course, it had no link with the fact they woke up tenderly cuddled and snuggled to each other every morning.

Of course, it had no link with the fact they hadn't slept this well in a very, very, very long time.

Of course, it had no link with the fact they kept sleeping together even after these holidays.

And, of course, it was pure coincidence if Natasha later received a box of his favorite rare tea, several new suits perfect for fighting and a whole set of prized daggers. Pure coincidence.

As much of a coincidence as the rooms' repartition.

[wormstacheangel]

Almost: Ch. 3

Hello! It’s a happy ending story so don’t worry but I wanted to write more about Dean’s relationships with others. Read it on AO3 link (maybe leave a nice comment?)

Ch. 1 link | Ch. 2 link |

Summary:  Dean comes back from the long drive with Cas in need of some comfort. Sam is there to finally get him to talk out his feelings and admit to things he has been pushing down. Then he has to go face Cas the next day.

Word Count: 2920 More Under the Cut

“So, what?”

Dean was sitting on the floor behind the register of Charlie’s café. His head rested against her legs as she took orders, feeling too damn embarrassed to go home to face Sam or go to work and face Bobby. Charlie was the only other person who he was close to but she came into his life after Cas already left it.

“You’re just gonna hide here?” Charlie said before her customer service voice took over. “Hello! How can I help you?”

She took an order while Dean continued to munch on the brownie she has given him earlier. It wasn’t warm anymore but it was still damn good. He was glad he had a best friend who would let him eat his feelings and provided the food.

When she addressed him again she crouched down to smile sadly at him. He hated it. “Dean, I didn’t even know you liked anyone.”

“I didn’t fucken know I liked anyone either.” He groaned in annoyance as he threw his head back but it hurt as it hit some glass mugs. “Ow! Damn it, Charlie!”

“Don’t take your anger out on me!”

“I’m-I’m not! I’m just mad in general! At Cas being back. At me not over my damn high school crush. At dumb fucken Mick .” Dean let his head fall into his hands. “I’m 26, dude. I shouldn’t be dealing with this shit anymore.”

“What does age have to-?”

“I shouldn’t be having boy problems!” He pulls his head out of his hands to explain to her before he groaned again. Mumbling, “I’m too damn old for this shit.”

“Maybe if you focused more on the pretty girls like me then you wouldn’t be in this mess.” She jokingly nudged him as she sat on the floor beside him. Pulling him down so she can awkwardly hold him. “I think you just gotta be the mature one, Dean. He’s probably not staying for long anyway so how about you just go to the funeral like we planned and then we can forget that little Castiel walked back into our lives. Does that sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“That’s the spirit!” She dropped a kiss on top of his head. “Now, are you going to stay and hug my legs until closing?”

“Thinking about it.”

Charlie laughed but shoved him off when he dropped his full weight into her.

Dean did end up going home. He needed a hot shower and hoped to whatever god was listening that Sammy won’t come looking for him today because he knew Bobby would have called him. He knew Sam would be worried - Bobby would be too but won’t admit to it and Dean respected him for it - and he would come barging in with his emergency house key he made without permission. Then he would want Dean to talk.

Sam always wants Dean to talk.

A few months of not talking after suddenly losing his Mom and his best friend moving away and suddenly, ‘you’re someone who needs to be watched, Dean.’

Dean wouldn’t be damn surprised if there were hidden cameras in his apartment. At least he’s given whoever is watching a damn show every once in a while.

Luckily he took a hot shower in peace. His apartment was filled with music as he walked around his room to clean the already tidy space. His mind floating around to think of nothing in particular. Making himself not think of what happened. Not think of Cas. Not think of the damn kiss. Not think of his baby blue’s that still hold so much power over him. Not think of his dumb smile or horrible singing voice.

“Fuck!” Dean grabbed one of his pillows and buried his face into it. “Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“Dude,” Dean jumped as he heard the familiar voice behind him. Sam walked into his bedroom with beers in hand as well as a greasy brown paper bag. “Is that any way to talk to someone who brought you supplies?”

Dean dropped his pillow on his bed and passed Sam, bumping their shoulders together. “Fuck you. Stop letting yourself in.”

Sam let out a low chuckle but followed him to the small kitchen. “You weren’t going to let me in.”

“Cause you’re nosy, asshat. That’s why.”

They dropped into the kitchen chairs while Sam passed him his food, grinning like an idiot and annoying Dean to no end. Dean liked eating in silence but his brother wouldn’t stop looking at him and smiling. Like he’s hiding something or knows the damn secrets to the universe.

Dean was almost done with his second beer and half his fries when he kicks Sam’s chair. “Just fucking spit it out, Sammy!”

Sam sat up in his chair and leaned in closer to Dean as if he was about to share a secret. As if anybody else was in his apartment to hear them. “Guess who’s back in town?”

“Cas.” Dean quickly answers as he leans back in his chair, his feet resting up on one of the extra chairs, and takes a sip of his beer.

“How’d you-?” Sam blinks at him in shock before shaking his head. “Well, I bet you don’t know that he’s engaged to this guy named-”

“Mick.” Dean rolled his eyes as that name escaped his lips again. “Fucking asshole.”

Sam leans back on his chair, his face dropping into a scowl. “How do you fucking know that?”

Dean shrugs as he takes another fry and dips it in ketchup before chewing on it. Ignoring his brother’s waiting stare. “I just know things.”

“Fuck you.” Sam pushes Dean’s chair back in annoyance. Dean would want to do the same thing but Sam’s chair was now too far away for his legs to reach. “Who told you, dude?”

“Who told you ?” Dean asked back while he scoots back to the table.

“Gabriel. He came looking for Cas at the garage so he told Bobby and me. We also met the dude.”

“Dude? You mean Mick?”

“Yeah. He was pretty chill. He has an accent.”

“Accent?”

“British.”

“Fuck!” How was he even to compete with some fancy British dude? He’s seen the Great British Bake Off. Those people are nice. Cas deserved a nice person. “I don’t wanna see Cas being all gaga for this dude tomorrow.”

“Dude, his Dad is dead. Pretty sure his mind would be somewhere else.” Sam tells him. Watching him with those damn wide eyes that scanned him. Looking for any damn indication that there could be something wrong. “What’s up with you? Are you...wait.”

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean could read it in his brother’s face. That damn aha moment lit up his whole face.

“Are you still hung up on Cas?” Sam’s grin broke across his face and Dean stood up to walk to his front door.

“Thanks for dropping by, Sammy. Now leave!” He opened the door and motioned Sam to walk through it.

“Hell no!” Sam rested his feet on the empty chair. His arms crossing over his chest as he got comfortable. “My big brother’s high school crush just walked back into town with a ring on his finger and you want me to just - what? Ignore it? Hell no.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice went lower as a warning but Sam didn’t budge.

“Dude, just talk to me!” Sam tells him, opening his arms up as if showing Dean that he is ready to listen. “You used to talk to me about Cas all the time! Hell, you used to talk to me about the guys and girls you’ve been with every other day!”

“That was before.” Dean slammed the door shut knowing Sam wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He dragged his hand down his face as he walked to the couch, not hungry enough to finish eating.

“Before what?”

“Before shit got complicated.” Dean fell into the old couch and didn’t look at his brother. Instead looked down at the beer in his hand, his thumb scraping the label off with elbows on his knees as he leaned forward in his seat. “Before Lisa left me cause I wasn’t ready for a commitment. And then Benny left because I was going too fast. Shit. I haven’t been able to get a damn thing right for a while.”

“And what? You thought Cas would be the answer?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I just saw him and I felt...better. Lighter.” A smile crept on his face. “He was still wearing that ugly coat Bobby gave him a long time ago.” He chuckled before he cleared his throat. Catching himself falling again.

“You still love him?”

“Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.” Dean tells him, a short cold chuckle like breath escaped his mouth as he shook his head. “He doesn’t feel the same way anymore, Sammy.”

“Dean.” It was a quiet sad tone and Dean was gonna tell him to shut it but then he found out why Sam was using that tone on him. Dean was crying.

“Maybe now that Cas moved on. Maybe you can too.” Sam walked over to sit beside him on the couch. Not touching Dean but just being close enough to comfort him. “You can stop waiting for him now.”

That was it, wasn’t it? Dean has been waiting for Cas all these damn years and he didn’t even know it.

“Fuck. I’m so stupid, Sam.” Dean shook his head as he put his beer down on the floor before he covered his face in his hands. “He kissed me too.”

“He kissed you?!” Sam sounded shocked but Dean didn’t look at him.

“Yeah. He did. Told me he missed me too.” Dean hits his head in frustration. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

“You’re not, Dean!” Then Sam’s arms were around him. Pulling him into a sideways hug that Dean was going to push away from but instead he let his little brother hold him. He’ll hate himself for breaking down in front of Sam tomorrow. Right now he needed the comfort. “It’s okay. You can move on now. You know now so you can just move on. Let your heart heal.”

Heal. Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. He thinks to himself as he took a calming breath like Sam always tells him to do.

But if he couldn’t move on 5 years ago, when the kiss was terrible, how was he suppose to move on now? With the taste of Cas and the feel of him in his arms was still burned into his mind? Still fresh. Still new.

Craving it every second he can’t have it.

“I love him, Sammy.” Dean took a shaky breath. “I still love him.” And it’s killing me knowing he doesn’t.

-

The next morning Dean was standing outside the funeral home with Charlie fussing over his and Sam’s hair. Dean kept loosening his tie while they waited for Bobby to finish the phone call with a customer, letting them know they would be closed for a friend's funeral. Friend is really putting it nicely.

Chuck was a creepy squirrely little guy with anger issues. He was sweet sometimes - like every other psycho - but his controlling nature was always a scary sight. But he helped Bobby keep the shop and helped them pay for the funeral cost of their Mom so he was an honorary friend at least.

Why was Chuck so generous to help them? Fuck if any of them know but they weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. That’s for sure.

“Stop fidgeting, boy!” Bobby slapped Sam’s hand away from him loosening his tie and pulled him down to fix it again.

“Ow! Uncle Bobby, that’s too tight!”

“Stop whining. We’re already late as it is.” He said patting Sam’s shoulders when he was done. Sam made a face of distaste as he rolled his eyes. Lucky for him Bobby didn’t catch him. “Dean come here. Let me fix your damn-”

“No! No. I got it.” Dean smiled reassuringly at him as he quickly tried to fix it but he wasn’t quick enough as Bobby pulled him down to fix it again. Dean groaned as he did tighten it but it was loosened just enough so he wouldn’t struggle to breathe. “Thanks, Uncle Bobby.”

Bobby looked at all three of them with a proud grin. “Now behave yourselves. This family hates us enough.”

“What an encouraging speech.” Dean commented while Charlie grimaced at all of them.

“Just stay in the background and the sooner we can leave without causing a scene the better. Got it?” The three of them nodded half-heartedly. “Good! Let’s go. Keep close.”

They started walking behind Bobby and into the funeral home. Dean kept his eyes down not wanting to look at anyone in the surprisingly crowded place. Well, not surprising. The Novak family was huge. The family of seven was big enough but then add all the damn cousins these guys had and it was a full house. Some people were even standing outside so they could talk.

It took Dean a solid 15 minutes to even find a parking spot - he ended up parking a block away - because the small parking lot quickly filled up.

So with this crowded place, he was hoping he wouldn’t have to bump into Cas. At least not bump into him so soon but of course, he’ll be the one welcoming people in.

“Fuck.” Dean hissed under his breath as his eyes met Cas’s.

Cas stiffened at the sight of him - which always made someone feel welcomed - before he forced a smile. But Dean can still read that face like a damn open book. His jaw is clenched just enough for people not to notice the stiffness while his hands fidgeted into his suit pants pocket. Yeah, well, Dean was uncomfortable too. Cas ain’t special.

Dean’s eyes traveled down Cas’s body and - bless him father cause he wants to sin - Cas looked great in a damn black floral suit. It was well fitted. Probably tailored since that is the type of family the Novak’s were and lucky for Dean it hugged him in all the right places. Dean’s eyes drifted to down only to notice there was a hand wrapped around his lower back.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam stepped in front of him first and wrapped Cas into one of his big bear hugs. “Nice seeing you again but I’m sorry for your loss.”

Cas barely had his chin on Sam’s shoulder as he patted Sam’s back awkwardly. “Thank you, Sam.” Cas pulled back to smile at him. “I hope we can catch up before I leave. I would like to hear more about your studies on witchcraft.”

“How’d you-?” Sam asked but Cas motioned at the guy standing next to him. The guy that just had his arms around Cas’s waist. As if claiming him.

“Michael told me you two talked yesterday.” And then Cas turned to look at Dean. “Mick I know you meet Sam and Bobby but this is Sam’s older brother. Dean.”

Fuck you, Cas.

“Oh, Dean! I heard a lot about you from my Cas here.” He nudged Cas, who awkwardly laughed before he held his hand out for Dean to shake. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Fuck this fucker and his dumb accent. Dean narrows his eyes at him, trying to read him. As if he would see any red flags or alarms over his head. But he looked like someone he would root for on the British Bake Off and he hated him for that.

Charlie nudged him to shake the outstretched hand but Dean wouldn’t budge. He instead shrugged at him. “Um, germs, man. But nice to meet one of Cas’s friends.”

Charlie pinched his arm at that comment while Cas rolled his eyes, his shoulders dropping with a tired sigh before he glared at Dean. Mick only laughed as he took his hand back but then he wrapped it around Cas’s waist again and Dean regretted not preoccupying that fucking hand.

“Fiance actually.” Mick grinned up at Cas who strained a smile. “Hmm, I figured Sam would have told you.”

Dean mocked a smile. “Oh, he did! Shit must have slipped my mind.”

“Dean.” Cas almost growled at him.

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a second before swallowing hard. He turned his hard smile on Cas. “I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Cas, we’ll keep an eye on him.” Sam tells him as he starts to shove Dean ahead where Bobby already disappeared to find a chair in some sad corner probably.

“Um, sorry for your loss.” Charlie gave Cas a quick hug. “Oh, I’m Charlie by the way. New best friend but it’s nice to meet you! I mean...wished it was under better circumstances but what can you do?”

She started to nervously laugh and Sam tugged at her arm to drag her along as well.

“Bye!” Charlie waved at them awkwardly, Dean saw Cas wave back with a grin and raised an eyebrow, before she sighed. “Wow, that was awkward.”

“Oh, you think so?” Dean sarcastically says while Sam’s too big arm wraps around his shoulders, probably to hold him in place. “This place better have an open bar.”

“It’s a funeral, Dean. Not a damn party.”

“Meh.” Dean shrugged before they found Bobby in the back row sneaking a sip of a flask. “Give it here, old man!”

[gkingoffez]

2020 RvB Valentines Exchange uwu

@rvbgiftexchange

My partner was MentalMaterial but I think they’ve changed their name to @linklebard ?

Anyway, here’s ur Tuckington mutual pining bed sharing as requested. Enjoy!

Words: 1833

Pairing: Tuckington

~~~

Tucker was fucked. He had to be- fucked in the head or the heart or the mostly healed stab wound in his side from that fucker Felix. Something had to be wrong, despite the fortified walls of Armonia around him, the Chorus truce, the energy sword in his bag and especially the ex-Freelancer standing beside him in the confined corridor who he hadn’t expected to be there.

“I’m sorry, sirs!” squeaked the young woman in front of them, a civilian wearing a military lanyard, pulling at her frazzled hair with one hand and frantically scrolling on her data-pad with the other. “There must have been a glitch in the program- you should have been assigned your own private rooms. I’m so sorry, our equipment is so outdated and it does stuff like this sometimes-”

“Please stop apologising, it’s not your fault,” Wash insisted gently. “We understand that this was just a mistake, but we’re tired and just want to go to bed?”

“Are you sure there’s no more spare rooms on this floor? A secret penthouse with a jacuzzi maybe? I’ll take it if there is.” asked Tucker.

The woman shook her head, frowning and tapping away. “I’m sor- I mean, no, not here, in fact there’s nothing else on this floor. “This hotel was only converted into officer accommodation a few days ago, and Locus was confirmed to have stayed here while in the city,” she explained.

“There are empty rooms further along that way, but we haven’t had time to do the same level of security sweeps on them.”

The woman gestured at the plain black door behind her, completely identical to the myriad of other ones lining the narrow corridor.

“This room does have a queen bed, sirs. The easiest solution might be that you can share it for the night and one of you can move tomorrow? I know it’s not ideal, but it’s better than a possible security risk.”

“What?” spluttered Tucker. “Why aren’t there enough rooms? And What happened to all of us getting private-?”

“Thank you, that’ll do us fine for tonight,” interjected Wash loudly, glaring at him. “We don’t want to cause too much fuss this late in the evening, and definitely don’t want to stay somewhere that’s not secure. Don’t you agree, Captain Tucker.”

Tucker gaped, words escaping him under Wash’s gaze.

He was fucked. Because once the adrenaline had worn off discovering a manufactured civil war, transmitting that info globally, being betrayed and stabbed by Felix, confronting Hargrove and whatever else happened in the less than a week since he’d snuck off the New Republic base, Tucker suddenly had time and space for… thoughts.

Thoughts like how much he’d truly missed the man standing beside him.

Wash, who’d been a hardass in the canyon like he was being fucking paid for it, who’d kept them all fed and alive and together, and then he’d gone and done the heroic sacrifice play, like an idiot, and suddenly he was gone. It felt like all Tucker had thought about for the last several months was whether Wash was okay, whether he was in pain or alone or dead. At points he’d almost wished they’d swapped places, that he was taking the (in hindsight, non-existent) punishment from the Federal Army, and Wash was the one training the Lieutenants.

Then out of the blue, Wash was back. Wash was fine. Everyone was fine, and like a circle, the whirlwind of betrayal, civil war, stabbing yada-yada unfolded. Tucker had only just caught his breath again and was looking forward to actually relaxing for once, only to end up in this corridor, standing awkwardly in front of a room they’d both been assigned to.

Wash was staring pointedly at him with those stupid clear blue eyes that made Tucker’s heart jump, and it was clear something must have been wrong, because that wasn’t right. It was physical and mental exhaustion, not love. He wasn’t some hormonal teenager, he was a grown man who wanted to go to fucking bed and not have to deal with his fucking feelings.

“Yeah, whatever, let’s just go then,” Tucker said offhandedly, adjusting his sack over his shoulder and stomping into the room without another word.

It was small but glamourous compared to normal military quarters- the hiss of the sliding door muffled against thick looking carpet, one door presumably leading to a bathroom, a single kitchen cabinet with a sink and a lowboy with a television mounted to the wall above it.

The bed took up the bulk of the space in the far end of the room. Behind it hung thick mustard coloured curtains, although Tucker knew even without having to move them that they’d been covered barred with a bullet proof covering as part of the security sweep. What was the point of being a heroes of Chorus, after all, if a well-placed sniper could take them out through a hotel window?

“Home sweet home, I guess,” Tucker shrugged, ignoring his jumping heart as he unceremoniously dumped his stuff on the ground near the kitchen space.

“Thank you for stopping to help us. We’ll be fine.” Wash was saying as he backed into the room. “Good night.”

“Good night sirs!” the woman said, “And again, I’m so-!”

The door hissed shut, Wash’s hand on the button.

“What the fuck, dude,” cried Tucker, rounding on him. “You didn’t have to immediately say yes. I could have pawned Caboose onto someone else and taken his room or something.”

“Oh don’t bother Caboose, he’s probably already asleep and you’ll never wake him. It’s late. All we need is a bed and everything will be else sorted in the morning. One night in the same bed won’t kill us.”

Wash crossed the room and carefully deposited his own knapsack on the lowboy.

“Besides, I wanted us to stay together a little bit longer. To be safe, you know,” he added quietly, glancing Tucker’s way.

Now, of course, Tucker’s eyes had also joined the ‘fucked party’. Was it a trick of the LED lights, or was that a blush on Wash’s cheeks? There was no way to double check, as Wash quickly turned his back on him.

Tucker crossed his arms haughtily, huffing and shaking his head to reset it.“Whatever. I’ll take the right side.”

“Fine by me,” replied Wash, unzipping his bag and rustling around in it, still turned away. “I’m going to change in the bathroom. Oh, and Tucker?”

“Yes?”

“I swear to god if you sleep naked, I’m going to suffocate you with a pillow.”

“Not if I suffocate you first, asshole.”

Maybe ten minutes of bathroom time, brushing teeth and other general night activities later (Tucker was fully clothed in loose borrowed sweats), they were both lying in bed back to back in the queen bed.

“Well,” said Wash. “Good night.”

“Yeah, night.”

As soon as the light turned off, Tucker’s brain switched on like a fucking Christmas tree.

He was not in love with Wash. Love was for girls and people who hadn’t spent literal years on the shittiest military posting ever, then got knocked up, then spent years in the desert, then got dragged on a mission to kill the Freelancer Director, then crashed landed on a planet- well, anyone would get the point. Sure, he acted like a stud and a lady’s man, but truthfully, it had been a long, long time since he’d really loved anyone like that.

Wash had been a fucking Freelancer. Caboose and the Reds talked about him like he was the most capable, badass guy around (barring the time he’d apparently gone evil and shot Donut, of course). Not to mention, he was kinda hot. Sandy hair with streaks of grey, blue eyes, even the criss-cross of scars across his pale skin did things for Tucker. Like he was this put-together, experienced and handsome man next to Tucker’s immaturity and recklessness.

The sheets were feeling too tight and stuffy for his brain, and the slow pattern of Wash’s breathing next to him was not helping. He flipped over onto his back, pulling and rearranging them, staring up at the shadowed ceiling.

“Hey Wash, you asleep yet?” he asked quietly

There was a beat.

“If I was, how would you expect me to answer that?” came the annoyed reply

“I dunno. Snoring?”

Wash snorted. “Just go to sleep, Tucker.”

They were in the same bed. They were in the same bed. Wash was inches away, the kind of distance where Tucker could touch him and then easily brush it off as an accident of movement. Wash’s hand was right there, he’d only need to reach- but no. He couldn’t do that, it wasn’t right.

When Caboose first suggested putting the ex-Freelancer in Church’s empty armour, it hadn’t really mattered to Tucker that much. He was just a guy who’d been an asshole but switched sides in time to help them take out the Meta, may as help him not go back to jail after all. Months in the crash had changed that, and all that time of training and bickering and surviving together had made them friends. He’d bitched and bitched and then watchedWash sacrifice himself as a rockfall separated them had been devastating, throwing into perspective just how goddamn much he cared about all of them despite the fact that they were a bunch of Red and Blue idiots.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder or however the shit went. And Tucker had spent months wishing Wash was ok, wishing he was there, wishing a lot of things.

Maybe he had fallen in love with the man in that time. Maybe it wasn’t as fucked up as he was making it out to be, he’d always been pretty dramatic, after all. Dudes fell in love with dudes all the time, especially when they’d been through a lot together.

Oh for fuck’s sake, none of this matters! There’s no way in hell that he likes me too. Just go to sleep, idiot.

Tomorrow, Tucker could wake up and blame it all on stress, exhaustion and the computer system that had fucked up room assignments. For that moment, however, he felt himself drift off, eyelids heavy and breath evening out.

They had work to do tomorrow rebuilding Chorus and tracking down mercenaries, and the more sleep he got, the better.

The last thing he registered that night was the vibration and rustling sound of Wash twisting in place. However, he must have dreamed about the gentle, tender touch he felt on his face as he was just on the precipice of sleep.

That couldn’t be right.

~~~

A snapshot of the future- tangled limbs in a queen bed, dark on pale and scattered scars. A data-pad hanging limply in a man’s hand, the other gazing at him with an adoring expression. The first glances at the rapture in his lover’s face, and snorts.

“You’re fucked,” he says, jokingly.

“No, you fucked me,” replies Tucker. They laugh.

~~~

Ya’ll let me tell you about the absolute stress rollercoaster I’ve had these past few months. So first up, I completely forgot I’d signed up for this exchange, and was surprised when I got the message. Then I proceeded to have a family death, my birthday and the stress of having to search for a new place to live and start packing up my stuff, all while working my shitty full time job and being exhausted from it.

So to my exchange partner, I’m sorry for not reaching out at all, but my anxiety levels are pretty high these days. This was written pretty quickly, at the last minute and after not writing for probably a year, but I hope you enjoy.

I might have another editing run through it before posting elsewhere but it’s done somewhat on time so I’m happy (Valentine’s was actually yesterday for me and I have to leave for work in like five minutes.)

Anyway, happy love and bed sharing and mutual pining guys. Love ya.

[punkcupcakestyles]

Sober up

So, quick note: I wrote this for the pypfc that the absolute babes @oh-honey-styles​ and @for-fucks-sake-h​ put together. I hope you enjoy it. 

Part 1

If someone were to ask, there was a lot of alcohol involved. A lot. 

It was too late to pretend it was never your intention. 

It was just that your courage tasted like margaritas. 

***

Harry was an asshole, everyone knew that. He was one of those pretty assholes, with the sweet smile, which made it hard to hate him, but, oh, you tried. 

It didn’t always work, but you tried. 

It’s what matters, isn’t it?

The night when it all began, it was unseasonably warm, and you stepped out of the crowded house to take a break before you could sweat...more. It had been a good idea to wear a dress, cause the light breeze was easing out the warmth of your skin.

You felt relaxed for the first time that night. 

The porch was empty and quiet, which was just what you were looking for: A moment of silence to break the noise. You were settling in, even stepping out of your high heels to feel the cold floor under your feet, when the door suddenly swung open behind you. You turned around, startled by the loud music that was booming inside. Harry didn’t see you, or better yet, he chose to ignore you, as he walked out of the house, carefully holding the waist of a blonde girl as she stumbled on her own feet. 

Tipsy would be an understatement. 

You looked at him carefully, crossing your arms over your chest, as you watched the way he softly guided her out of the house. It was truly a sight to be seen, the girl kept giggling and trying to get out of his hold, as she kept grabbing at him, his shirt, his hair, whatever she could reach. She smiled drunkenly at him and he whispered soft words at her that you couldn’t hear. 

A mocking smile curled up the corner of your lips as your eyes followed him, seeing as Harry helped the girl climb into an Uber and waited for her to leave. 

“Awww, poor baby...are you losing your charm?” You bit as he walked towards you. He was wearing a red worn-out flannel shirt, with a white graphic tee underneath. His black jeans were sinfully tight.

“Wanna find out?” He smirked, brushing off your words as easily as they slipped out of your lips. 

“Thank you, wouldn’t want to catch something,” you said, to his amusement and your disappointment. 

“Or have any fun, that wouldn’t be like you.”

It had been like this for a while, ever since you met him, when he stole your morning coffee cup from you, shamelessly. He kept denying it, though, saying it was you who wanted to steal his much needed coffee before an early lit class. How cruel could you be?

He was a pest, a literal one. You would compare him to a moth if anyone were to ask, but in reality, he was more like some source of light where all the girls gravitated to. All the boys as well. 

Everyone but you.  

He stood next to you, leaning on the handrail as he looked at the empty street. He smelled a bit of soap and a citric perfume, and a bit of spilled vodka and lime. He flashed you a smile, an obnoxious one that let you know he was looking for a reaction from you. You held your breath, still refusing to be the first to give in. 

“Why aren’t you inside?” He asked after a few seconds of silence, and you noticed how his curls bounced a little bit as he suddenly turned to look at you with curiosity shining in his big, bright, green eyes. 

“It was hot. And I don’t know where my boyfriend is,” you mumbled.

He chuckled at this, that kind of low and dry laughter that comes with bad news. You breathed in slowly, letting the sudden dreadful feeling take over your chest. Bad news were indeed coming, you could feel it in your aching bones. 

“What?” you snapped. 

“Nothin’”

“You’re an idiot, did you know that?” You tore yourself away from the handrails, ready to get the hell out of there. Away from Harry and the intense way he always made you feel.

But Harry stopped you in your tracks, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer to his chest. The sudden movement made you crash against him, and your eyes widened in surprise as he looked down at you with that stupid smile of his. 

“What?!”

“Your boyfriend’s fucking his best friend. That’s why you can’t find him.”

The words had barely registered in your brain, but you were ready to fight them. Your hand went to his chest and you pushed him away until you were free of his touch. You could feel the rage boiling in your veins, but all that fire could only be aimed at Harry, he could handle it, he deserved it. 

“Oh, that’s pathetic, Harry, lying like that!”

“Why would I do that?”

“Cause he’s a good guy, unlike you!”

“He’s not that different from the guy you think I am,” he replied, calm and softly, as if you were a wounded animal and he was afraid that you would attack him. Easy, slowly, quietly, that was the best way to approach you.  

“Of course he is!!!”

“Look, I know you cannot be a very good fuck, so I get it,” he sighed as if he regretted saying anything at all. “But he’s cheating on you with his best friend. I’ve seen them. Been meaning to tell you.”

“Margaret has a boyfriend, she’s gonna get married,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest in a victory gesture. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. 

“I never said it was a girl.”

***

It wasn’t with a girl. 

It was his best friend David. 

He was prettier than you, you would give him that.

And even though the realization didn’t come as hurtful as expected, days of torment came ahead. The most annoying thing was the fact that people looked at you as if you were stupid, worthy of pity. You hated the fact that everyone was treating you as if you were made of glass and could break apart if someone held you too hard. 

Everyone but Harry. 

He kept treating you like he usually did; like you bored him to death. His disinterested glare would follow you from time to time, as he bit the side of his cheek, which made his jawline pop even more, maybe waiting for you to fuck up. 

He was fucking obnoxious. 

***

If anything, going out that night had been a bad idea. Your head was fuzzy, maybe from all of the margaritas you’ve had. It was cheap alcohol, so you could only expect a massive headache. 

Once again, you found yourself at the porch, witnessing how Harry helped a brunette get inside a car. He kept his head low, maybe hoping you hadn’t noticed it was him. But you noticed, and you had to let him know. It was the least he deserved. 

“Do you think,” you started to ask as he walked by you on his way to the house. “they know you are a bad fuck and that’s why they’re running away? Cause, dude, something is going on...”

It caught his attention, no doubt, and Harry turned on his heels, walking menacingly towards you. He was taller than you, so when he stood in front of you, it almost felt like you should take a step back. Or maybe two. 

“Do you really think I’m a bad fuck?” He whispered and his voice made you shiver. It wasn’t fear what you were feeling, not quite. It was a new type of excitement, one that only grew as you stare into his eyes and his lips curled into a mocking smile. 

“I bet you are,” you whispered back, hoping to get a reaction out of him. You just didn’t know what you were expecting. 

“Why does it sound like you want to find out?” He cocked his head, still staring into your eyes. He was definitely amused.

“Nah, I’m good with disappointments.”

He took one step closer.

“Are you sure?”

You could feel his warm breath fanning over your skin and the electricity that was scrambling up to his skin. It almost felt like the world had stopped, leaving only and Harry to slowly burn under each other’s stare.

You gulped. Maybe you weren’t so sure after all. Not sure at all.

“What if I’m not?”

Your words were barely a whisper, fueled by your heart beating so hard that it was pressing against your neck. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you felt a sudden urgency to know what his lips tasted like. 

“I knew you liked me,” he smirked before turning around to enter the house. 

***

Every effort you had made to avoid him came to a violent end.

There you were, stuck in his car while he drove you to God knows where. 

You peered up to him, noticing how he bobbed his head to the rhythm of Fame by David Bowie. His two fingers drummed over the steering wheel, and he hummed lightly, focusing on the road ahead of him. He was wearing a green snapback backward, that crushed his curls and a black plaid shirt, that he was wearing unbuttoned halfway down his chest. 

“Don’t pout,” he said when his eyes met yours, and you quickly looked away, suddenly interested in the dust that covered the road. Where the fuck was that party?

It was supposed to be a week getaway, now that your days as a college student where officially running out. Alcohol, party, guilt-free junk food and sex...for those who had someone to fuck. 

No orgies were allowed. That would make it weird. 

The thought occurred to you and you briskly looked at Harry, narrowing your eyes as you saw him smiling. 

“Why didn’t you bring anyone?” You asked and he shrugged, still looking ahead at the road.

“Who would I bring?”

“I dunno, one of your many girls. You must have a list.”

“Didn’t have time to pick anyone up, you don’t know how to fix your bloody car.” 

His accent did things to you when it got rough. 

Not that you would ever admit it. 

“You could’ve left me there. I would’ve called an Uber.”

“Yeah, and then you would’ve told everyone I was an asshole.”

“Oh, I always say that about you. It wouldn’t make a difference,” you smirked, giggling a bit as he turned to glare at you. “And I don’t know how to fix my car cause Andrew always did that for me.”

Harry switched on his seat and his face turned somber, almost uncomfortable, which made you feel bad for some reason. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Were you...did you...fuck!”

“Am I dying of a broken heart?” you helped him. “No, I just wanted an explanation, y’know?”

“Of course you did,” he snorted, and his smile came back as he shook his head in half-surprise. “You would want an explanation so you could tell him his explanation was idiotic.” You tipped your head, looking as his smile as he slowly turned around to look at you once more. “I knew you’d be alright, I should’ve told you earlier.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“I know, that’s what lets me sleep at night,” he said softly, as his lips curled into a half-smirk. 

It felt weird, to be in a car with him without going at each other’s throats. You were natural enemies, like cats and dogs, or some guys and showers. There was no need (or way) to explain the animosity between you two. It was something you could always count on. 

You closed your eyes, sighing aimlessly as he drove around, as a subtle way to let him you were done with this conversation. And every other that could follow it. 

Talking to Harry made all of the feelings come back, made you feel warm and your skin prickled with something that could only be described as excitement. It made you feel giddy. 

You had realized that years ago. You had never even tried to understand it. 

You opened your eyes again when the car came to a full stop, and Harry parked in front of a huge white house. The air felt salty and the music coming from the house was so loud it made you wince a little bit. It took you a bit to gather your bits, and you slowly stepped out of the car as Harry got all your things from the back of it. Leaning on the car, you waited for him until he stood in front of you. 

“Ready?” You asked him, not even pretending that you were gonna help him carry shit. 

He looked at the house and peered at you again as if he was deciding whether he was ready to go in. You looked at him, as his eyes traveled from your eyes to your mouth, and that same electricity took over the air, the same anticipation that almost made you lick your lips. “What?” You mumbled as he stepped so close that he was all you could see. 

“Shhh…Before we get drunk,” was all he said before he pressed his soft mouth to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes fluttered close, shivering as his fingertips pressed to your ticklish neck. It was a soft kiss, a slow one, as he was getting to know you, exploring every second of your reaction. His hand dropped to the curve of your waist, and he pushed you against the car, trapping you between his arms. It wasn’t like you were going anywhere. Not even the thought of fighting him had crossed your mind. Your own hands held to him, slowly grazing over his muscles as you brought them to his shoulders. 

Curiosity was burning in your tummy. It all made sense, all was right. 

He was right, kissing him while you were both drunk would’ve been a waste of a wonderful opportunity. His lips were sweet and soft, and the weight of his body pressing down to yours felt heavenly. Your body molded to his and your heart pumped almost expectantly as he tipped your head just slightly, so he could deepen the kiss. Slowly, you parted your lips for him, moaning as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. 

A loud crash came from the house, and you both broke the kiss, staring at it as you expected it to blow into a billion pieces. But it remained standing, a loud curse filling the air, followed by a million cheers. The party had indeed started. 

Your eyes traveled to Harry before he turned around, wondering if it had all been a dream. Deep down, you had always wondered how it would be to kiss him. It was better than you could ever imagine. 

Why did you hate him again?

***

The rules of the house were quite simple: If you were single, you were fair game. People could hit on you. Things could happen. 

You had never really thought about it, never had to. That’s what Andrew was for, to shield you from the bitter breath of drunk boys while they tried to convince you to fuck them. 

But now that Andrew was out of the picture, it almost seemed like you had a sign on your head that reads “offer to fuck me. I’m open”. So boys kept droning around you, and your veins were already buzzing from all the alcohol they had offered you. 

If only you could take your eyes off of Harry. He had decided to ignore you most of the afternoon, spending his time with his friends by the pool, smiling at girls that kept stumbling his way, as if he were a fucking magnet and they had no other choice. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him, even though you tried to keep your distance, staying by the kitchen and only coming out when it was strictly necessary. 

His skin was almost golden now, and his muscles glistened with droplets of water as he entered the house. His eyes fell on you, and he rolled them as he saw Baz standing next to you, smiling almost lustfully as he leaned in closer and offering you another drink that you subtly left aside. Still, Harry made his way to the kitchen, standing right behind you as he pretended to be looking for a glass. 

“So,” Bas dragged and you realized it was fucking hard to focus on him when Harry was near. “What do you say?” He asked and even though you had no idea what he was talking about, you nodded, out of politeness. His smile spread wide and you looked at him as he left, with a triumphant air on his step. 

“You’re not going up to his room, right? He’s looking for condoms, the twat,” Harry spoke as soon as you were alone and you narrowed your eyes as you looked at him. His jaw was locked and he pushed his bottom lip out, biting on the sides of it as he shook his head lightly. 

“What if I do?” You asked as coolly as you could. Your hands found the edge of the counter behind me and you leaned against it as you tried to copy his usual cool demeanor. As if the world didn’t matter. As if he already owned it. You realized now what you had agreed to. The answer was no, you weren’t going anywhere with Bas, but it wasn’t Harry’s problem. “You’re always saying I am no fun.”

“There are better ways to have fun…” One step closer was all it took for him to take your breath away. Your will quivered under his smile, as he looked down at you and his warm breath fanned over your skin. “Don’t you think?” He whispered and he was made out of trouble. You should stay away from him. 

“Someone could say you’re offering to fuck me.”

“What if I am?” He shrugged, placing the glass he was holding onto the counter right next to you. It was enough to raise goosebumps on your arms. 

He didn’t let you answer. It was probably going to be something stupid, a jab you didn’t mean, you both knew that. So you allowed his fingers to lace with yours, and you followed him as he made his way to the tiny bathroom by the kitchen. 

People could see you, you were aware of that, but they were probably too wasted to care, or What exactly were you doing, following him while your whole body burned in anticipation? Adding your name to an already long list of names?

That was not a question you had an answer for, and you didn’t care much about it. Whatever it was that you were doing, felt like the right choice. 

You would worry about the consequences later. 

His hands are on your body as soon as the door closes behind you, but this time it doesn’t catch you by surprise. You were expecting it, craving him. 

He was shirtless, so there was nothing to hold on to but his skin, so your fingers grazed over his smooth chest and pressed them to his neck as his hot mouth pressed to yours. He tasted like gin and beer and a little bit of weed. His hands settled on your bum, pulling you closer to him until you had no other choice but to wrap your leg around his hips to give yourself some balance. 

Your fingers pushed into his hair and you pulled on his curls, making him moan lightly as his fingers dug into the meaty flesh of your curves. His lips were soon leaving yours and he trailed heavy, wet kisses on your jawline, traveling down your neck at the same time his fingers snuck under the fabric of your cotton blue skirt. 

It felt natural, as natural as hating him felt. 

You sucked in air as his fingertips brushed over the hem of your panties, and his teeth grazed over the sweet spot below your ear, right where your pulse was beating wildly. 

His touch was ticklish, exciting, something new. Your hands fell on his shoulders and pressed lightly to them as he continued to make his way down your body. He kissed whatever sliver of skin he could find, pushing your shirt up so he could suck on the swell of your breasts and humming as he crouched in front of you, which made your feet fall back on the floor and caused you to stumbled a little. 

Your eyes met as he knotted the waistline of your undies in his fingers, pushing it down until they were pooling around your feet. It made your tummy bubble in excitement and your bottom lip rolled into your mouth as you saw him kiss the upper part of your thighs. 

He was taking his sweet time, pressing soft kisses to your hips and your thighs, until you moaned in exasperation, almost begging him to do something before you lost your mind. 

None of you had said a word since you entered the bathroom, and you weren’t going to be the first one to talk. It might break the spell. It might bring you back to reality, and force you to run out of there. Away from him and whatever feeling that was throbbing in your lower tummy. 

“Fuck,” the word escaped your lips before you could even think it through, as Harry bit lightly on your thigh, and his finger slid to your clit to massage it softly. 

You could feel his smirk against your skin. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, right before his tongue slid between your folds. You did, you looked at him as he licked from your center to your clit, forcing yourself not to close your eyes out of pleasure when he wrapped his lips around the pink little bud and sucked lightly on it.

It sent shivers up your body and you had to bite your bottom lip just to hold your moan down. He smirked against you, letting your clit go so he could lick the wetness that was already dripping on your center. His breath swirled on hot puffs of air against you, as he worked on you, licking and sucking like you were the most delicious dessert.

Your leg hooked around his shoulder and both of his arms wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer as he went back to suck and flick on your clit with the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t like anything you had experienced before, he wanted to taste every inch of you, his tongue lapped deliciously against your folds and your knees felt weak, maybe because your legs were shivering with every new movement of his tongue. 

You couldn’t bear it anymore and your fingers tangled on his hair to keep his head still as your hips rocked against his face. It was slow, cause you wanted to enjoy the feeling of his tongue sliding between your folds. Every now and then, he would stop you, so he could suck and kiss on your clit. 

“Fuck!!”

It doesn’t take you long to feel how your walls start to tighten and clench with every new lap of Harry’s tongue. The bubble of bliss in your tummy burst and you pulled hard on his hair as the world blurred at his edges and your tummy trembled with the euphoria of your high.  

Harry’s breath was rough as he forced his forehead to yours and you pressed your fingers to his cheek, feeling his flustered skin before you kissed him. 

“You don’t hate me so much now, do you?” He smirked against your lips. 

“It was a one time only. Don’t get excited.”

***

It wasn’t a one time only. You fucked that very night, in the darkness of his room, with his hand on your mouth so your loud moans wouldn’t alert anyone. You rode him, enjoying the way his thick cock would burn slightly every time you took him all in. He bit your chest and sucked on your tits, leaving faded marks that you had to hide for at least a week. 

You also fucked in the morning, this time in your room, before everyone woke up. Something good had to come up out of your breakup with Andrew, and you had a room all to yourself. It was lazy and slow, and you kissed sweetly, while your arms were wrapped around his neck and your legs were hooked around his hips. 

It was a week thing only, you swore to yourself. 

***

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled against the pillows, his eyes close stubbornly as you turned to look at him. 

4 months had gone by since that party. You were clearly not very good at keeping your promises. 

“Harry,” you whispered, even though you weren’t actually sure if you wanted him to go. “They’ll find out.”

It was the very first time he had spent the night, the whole night, in your bed. You hadn’t even had sex. You were on your period and he came to your door, looking like a capeless hero as he held a bag full of goodies: Ice-cream, chocolate, Nutella, cheese puffs, everything you swore you could never eat, but craved when you were on your days. You spent the night watching Netflix and actually chilling, which was weird enough. 

It wasn’t something you usually did, but he had a cold and wanted to be coddled. So, why not?

“Let’em.”

You still hadn’t told anyone. You weren’t sure how to bring the subject up to your friends. “Hey, remember how I always said that Harry was an asshole and probably had a small dick? Yeah, I’ve sucked him off. Great fuck,” didn’t seem like something you would say. 

Your nose bumped against his, and you pulled your hand out of the warm of your covers to press your fingers to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before you closed your eyes again. 

There was no use in fighting him. 

He usually won. 

***

“I think you should leave through the window,” you stated later that morning, looking at a blank point on the wall. Anything to avoid looking at him. It was harder when you saw him leave. 

“Are you mad? We’re on a second floor!” He asked you, barely able to hold himself up as he was putting on his jeans. His accent was thick and almost dripping with honey. There were very few instances where his accent got rough, which was a shame, cause it made your knees weak. When he was fucking you, deep and slow and your fingers pulled on his hair or your walls clenched around his cock, that’s when his accent came out.

“There’s people downstairs, Harry,” you insisted, even though your tummy twisted in a knot at the thought of him hurting himself because of you.

“We’ll tell them we were studying.”

“They won’t believe it.”

“Then let’em believe whatever the fuck they want,” Harry said, suddenly serious as he stared at you.

“They’ll believe we’re fucking! They don’t need to know that!!”

“Are you...Are you ashamed of me??” He laughed in disbelief, and you felt your face flare up as your eyes went to focus on a loose thread on your covers. 

“You’re not the type of guy I usually date, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry I’m not a closeted gay, babe. Or a stuck-up-horse-riding club boy.”

Your eyes snapped at him, but it was too late. He was already gone. 

***

You had no right to be mad, you knew that much. 

But still, your blood was raging. 

He was sweaty, all of you were. It was one of those stupid competitions that your friend Rose would put together from time to time. ‘Let’s play volleyball, even though none of us really knows how to!” “Let’s run stupidly around campus!” “Let’s all train for a 10k!” 

You couldn’t stop looking at him, the way his tattooed chest glistened and his golden skin were taut around his muscles. He was wearing a pair of white running shorts and that stupid green snapback and his curls were poking out of it as if they were screaming for help. It was the first time you saw him, since that morning in your room, and he looked fucking good.  

As soon as the race was over, the boys had decided to get drunk, and you all followed them to someone’s house, so you could all enjoy the sunny day, without running your lungs out. You were all aware that it defeated Rose’s efforts to keep you fit, but you didn’t care much about it. 

And now, the day was giving in to the night, and you all had had too much to drink. Everyone but you. All you cared about was Harry and the way kept flirting with the blonde girl that sat next to him. 

You couldn’t blame him, she was fucking hot, sporting black shorts and a red sports bra that barely did anything to cover her poking nipples. You would’ve been flirting with her too if you could. 

She put a hand on his leg and leaned over as if to tell him a secret and you almost growled, spreading your palms over the table as you looked carefully at them. You couldn’t stop, and you wished you could say you didn’t care. But you cared, more increasingly as the days went by, and right now you felt like your heart was racing in your chest, preparing itself for the moment it had to break. 

He looked at her, with his eyes half-closed, and allowed her as she leaned over him and pressed her lips to his. She kissed him, hitching her hand closer to his bulge as he kissed her back. 

Your heart didn’t break, it just stopped, it stopped beating and you stopped breathing. You could feel it cracking in your chest, and you could do was stand there and stare at them. 

The girl giggled as she broke the kiss apart and Harry smiled lazily at her, telling her something before he got up from the couch to walk to the kitchen, holding some red plastic cup in his hands. 

He stopped dead in his steps as he saw you, and his eyes went wide as he realized what had happened. Any haziness in his face went away and he stepped towards you, placing the cup on the counter as you recoiled back, trying to look busy in the empty kitchen. 

“Babe…”

“That’s not my name,” you whispered, biting into the corner of your lips as you looked away from him. You were ready to leave. You picked up your gym bag from the floor and tossed it over your shoulder. “And s’not any of my business, Harry. Go ahead, have fun.”

“Don’t leave, please.”

“Why? Do you want me to go upstairs and watch you two fuck?”

“Don’t…don't blame this all on me. Don’t be unfair.”

“Oh, no, you’re right, Harry. I should blame myself”

“You’re the one that doesn’t want anyone to know!!” He insisted and you looked at him with rage firing in your eyes. “I was just…I shouldn’t have kissed her. I’m just...a bit drunk...”

“I don’t need to know, Harry. Let’s go back to what it was, hating each other was easier.”

“You don’t hate me,” he whispered as he grabbed your arm, stopping you before you could leave.

“I do.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If you hated me, you wouldn’t scream my name so loud when I’m fucking you.”

“Fuck off, we’re done.”

[writefandoms]

Led By the Nose

Alucard x Female!Reader

Waking up to someone smiling down at you, would make your average person scream. Waking up to the vampire king smiling at you with a mouth full of fangs, would probably give them a heart attack.

Alucard does this often, watching you as you sleep waiting for your sleeping mind senses his intense stare and forces itself awake. The first twenty times he did it you screamed your heart out. Now you’ve learned to keep your mouth shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your fear.

“What do you want, Alucard?” You groaned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. The glowing red eyes hold their stare, tilting upwards as his grin widens.

Peeking at your alarm clock the green numbers read 3:25 am.

“It’s three in the morning, I have to get up in a bit. Let me sleep.” You pulled the covers over your head, hoping to block the heat of his stare.

Feeling his presence leave, you peeked from the covers. He was gone. You thanked whatever higher power compelled him to leave and shut your eyes, letting sleep takeover once more.

You jumped as your window flew open, curtains blowing in the winter breeze. Groaning, you sluggishly stumbled out of bed to shut the window doors shut.

A white sheet flapping in the wind caught your eye, attached to the railing by a ribbon was a rolled up piece of paper. Careful to not let it blow away, you untied it and unrolled it. The only thing on the paper was a black arrow pointing upwards.

Confused, you looked up at your ceiling noticing nothing. Looking back down at the paper, you took a step closer to the window until you could peek your head outside. Tilting your head you peered up towards the night sky, your eyes instantly locking onto a large piece of clothing dangling from a tree branch above the estate.

Squinting at it the clothing it took you a second to realize what you were looking at. It was your jacket.

Silently cursing to yourself you ran over to your wardrobe. The wardrobe that was usually filled with your clothing and shoes was completely empty. If it wasn’t such an ungodly hour you would be screaming at the top of your lungs.

It was Alucard. There wasn’t even the slightest bit of doubt about that. But what did he do with all of them? Well you found your coat, so that’s a start. And still he seemingly left a note leading you to it, your best bet to finding the rest of your stuff probably has something to do with your jacket.

The roof was flat thankfully, and Alucard made sure to place your property on the tree branch closest to the ledge. Such a gentleman.

The leather was ice cold and would do you no good in this cold breeze. Running on a roof was probably not the best idea, but your fluffy robe was doing very little to warm you. Slamming the roof door shut you fumbled through the pockets of your jacket.

Inside the breast pocket was a small silver key. Knowing how impatient Alucard can be, you know he wouldn’t wait around for you to try and open every door in this huge ass building. So this is definitely a key to a box or something like that. There’s nothing of the sort in your room. So is there a box somewhere in the house he wants you to find?

“Fuck this!” You snap, stomping towards the mirror that leads to Alucard’s chambers. “I’m not playing his stupid games.” You were already going to be exhausted for work tomorrow thanks to him.

The mirror came into view when you rounded the corner. You could see your angry reflection glaring back at you. Not caring if you smudge the glass, you grip the side of the mirror, pulling it open revealing the dark staircase leading to the vampire kings “room”.

Making sure to stomp as loudly as possible down the stairs to make your presence known. As if the vampire didn’t already sense you when you left your room.

Reaching the bottom step, your met with an empty red throne. It’s shocking how much creepier the basement was, without the No Life King mocking you. But the thing that surprised you the most was the large chest sitting in front of his chair.

Walking up to closer, the details began more noticeable. Beautiful roses were drawn along the sides of the chest. Pull out the small key left in your jacket. You tried opening the chest, silently cheering when the key turned with a small click.

The contents of the chest were all of your missing clothing. They were all neatly folded, you half expected to find them balled up in a corner somewhere. Shutting it and locking it, you lifted the chest up tasting how heavy it was.

“Jesus” you groaned almost dropping it. “You couldn’t just put them into a plastic bag?”

It took you like half an hour to lift the heavy ass chest up the the first floor. Dragging it against the carpeted floors all the way to your room.

A small piece of red clothing quickly materialized through your door, entering your room. Anger towards the vampiric intruder fueled you to pull the chest faster to your room.

Flinging the door open you let the chest go, making a satisfying loud thud.

“Wait until Sir Integra hears about this, you asshole” you yell at the vampire sitting in your reading chair. The large grin and folded legs were enough to make you want to start swinging.

He sat quietly, which was rare, and waited. Taking a step into the room you kept your rampage going.

“The fuck you trying to do?! I’m gonna be exhausted tomorrow and-“ you paused once you spotted the flickering red candle by your bedside. Taking in your surroundings you noticed your room was full of candles.

“What’s all this?” You asked in awe. Alucard’s grin widened as he watched you examine your room.

Walking towards your bed, there were rose pedals scattered on the top. In the center of the roses was a thin black box.

“What is this?” He simply stared at you. Seeking the answer to your own question, you took the lid off the thin box.

Inside was lacy black material. Lift it in the air, letting it unfold itself in front of you. It was a one piece black lingerie, with a red trim. Underneath was two matching lace stockings. The material felt expensive, and looked it too.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Dropping the thin material back into the box, “You send me on a wild goose chase, hide all my clothes, and now this.” You gestured to the dimly lit room.

He unfold his legs and stands up, his figure towering over you. Crossing your arms, you waited for some sort of valid reason for all this nonsense.

“Intelligence isn’t your strong suit, is it?” He asked walking towards your bed. You snapped your head up to meet his mocking smirk, the flames in your eyes matching his.

He spoke clearly before you could speak. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Sunday”

“Date?”

“Not with the way you’ve been acting, you’re lucky I’m letting you stand in my room!”

He rolled his eyes at your misunderstanding, “No, I mean do you know what the date is?”

“It’s the 23rd.”

“As I thought, you can’t even keep track of a man made concept like time”

“You’re really talking like a man you doesn’t want to get laid” he laughed at your comment, leaning down close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your face. “It’s December 25th, you idiot.”

It took you a moment to register what he said.

“You’re right” you freaked. Not only did you forget it was bloody Christmas. But the vampire that you were ready to kill, actually took time to prepare you a present.

The grin returned to his face and he pulled you flush against his body. You meekly up at him, as his hands travelled to the small of your back.

“Shit” you groaned, “I’m sorry. I thought you were being an asshole, but this is actually a really sweet surprise.”

You scowled up at him, “Though it could of been done in a way that didn’t involve hiding my stuff.”

He laughed loudly, looking down at you with half lidded eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Pushing out of his grasp, you grabbed your new lingerie. Grabbing him by his cravat, he allowed himself to be pulled down to your level.

“How about I show you my gratitude” you whispered into his ear, pulling back slightly to gouge his reaction. Looking deep in his sunset colored eyes, you can see his pupils turn into slits. An all too familiar look of hunger sparking in them.

“That may get me in the Christmas spirit.” His slender, gloved fingers were already quickly untying your nightgown.

(a.n. I strayed away from the request a bit, but I hope you like it!!)

[stillpartofthisworld]

Juno Steel and the Deal with The Devil-NanoWrimo 11/02

Juno knows this is a bad idea.

He's standing in his kitchen, staring at the countertop. It's a nice countertop-a lovely granite that matches the cupboards. Shame that he got blood all over it.

The blood in question isn't his, for once. It's goat's blood, fresh out of the bag from a butcher across the street. He'd put it in a bowl, and then used one of Benten's old watercolor brushes to draw the appropriate sigils across the surface. The summoning circle he'd drawn looked perfect, mirroring the one he'd seen online.

Now he had to hope that the rest of the plan went as smoothly.

He lights the five candles at the edges and pulls out his phone. He's only a little buzzed tonight, so he can make out the words on his screen easily. They were in Latin, sure, but Sasha had taken Latin in highschool and had forced him and Mick to help her memorize verbs, so it can't be that different.

He sucks in a breath, and begins to chant.

20 minutes and 2 cans of beer later, and Juno feels like an idiot. Of course the stupid, stupid summoning circle didn't work. Why the hell should it? It's not like demons actually exist, and even if they did, why would the come at the beck and call of a Reddit post?

"Fuck," he mutters, and lurches out of the couch. He needs to clean the kitchen before Rita comes to see him tomorrow. Can't have her seeing his slow descent into madness, especially not after-

He hears a knock on the door.

Juno moves towards it. He thinks he might have ordered a pizza when he got home, but the amount of drinks between got home and now are enough to make him uncertain. He fumbles for the lock, and only remembers to check the peephole after the door is swinging open.

The man in front of Juno's door is tall, pale, and most importantly, handsome. He's dressed in a tailored suit, all black save for the blood red cufflinks on both wrists. His silver cross earrings sway in the breeze, glinting as they reflect the streetlights. His face is all angles; sharp cheekbones, slanted eyes and a cocked smile, his lips pulled back far enough to reveal wickedly pointed canines. It's enough to make Juno want to touch him and make sure he's real, that beauty like that could be tangible.

Instead he settles on clearing his throat. "Who are you?" He asks gruffly, and somehow the strangers' smile just gets wider. "I'm not sure what you mean, Juno," he says, and even his voice sounds beautiful, smooth and sauve like liquid mercury. "After all, you're the one who called me."

Juno freezes. Then:

"What."

The man points a long, manicured finger into Juno's apartment, where the kitchen is. Where the summoning circle.

Well, shit.

"What, you mean, you're...the...demon?"

The alleged demon chuckles at his incredulous tone. "What else would I be, dear? It's not everyday random men show up at your doorstep."

"You'd be surprised." the rebuttal comes automatically, and just serves to streach the man's grin even wider. "Aren't demons supposed to show up in the summoning circle? And be all fire and brimstone?"

"Is that what people are saying nowadays?" The stranger sighs, shaking his head. He leans on the door frame, using his height to let his gaze rove lazily across Juno's body. "The summoning circle isn't meant to trap us, dear. It's more of a...calling card. I show up how I like. And as for the 'fire and brimstone', well-" He snaps his fingers, and suddenly there is a small blue flame in between his thumb and index finger. "I could certainly show you," he continues smoothly, "But I assumed that your furniture might be flammable."

What had he gotten himself into?

"Oh, nothing that thousands of other humans haven't gotten themselves into before," the demon replies, and Juno realizes he's been talking out loud. "Might I come in?"

Still reellng, Juno moves out of the way to let the man in. He looks around the space curiously. It's a nice place; Rita was the one who'd shown him the listing, and Benten was the one who'd bought all the furniture. It still felt like it wasn't his apartment at times, like he was the one dirty thing in this clean, crisp home.

The demon, however, fit perfectly into the room. He sits down on the couch, crossing his legs and gingerly placing an empty beer can on the coffee table. "Can I get you something to drink?" Juno asks, and the demon waves him away. "I'm quite alright for now, thank you. Let's get down to business, shall we?" He spreads his hands in front of him dramatically. Sighing, Juno takes a seat opposite of the demon.

"I have to say, I am curious," The demon cups his chin with both his hands. "Why did you summon me, Juno Steel?"

"Well...you know, thinking back on it, it wasn't such good idea." Juno scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "I was sad, and drunk, and honestly I didn't even think it was going to work!"

"Most people don't-"

"And it's not like I have to show up with you tomorrow," He says, getting angry at himself. "I can go with Rita and Ben and just stick to the back of the reception. Drink all I want and get driven home. But it was just...the pictures and the updates and the register- God that fucking register-"

"I'm not sure I follow-"

"So I just had to pretend that I got over him! Putting down a plus one and writing "significant other" like a fucking dumbass. Stupid Juno, stupid-"

"Can you please explain-"

"I need a date for my ex's wedding."

The demon looks at him and blinks once, twice, before- "I beg your pardon?"

Juno pauses, unsure. "You...know what a wedding is, right?"

"Of course I know what a wedding is," the demon snaps, and Juno swears that for a second his dark eyes glow blue. "But is that the only reason you called a demon? To spite an old partner?"

"He was my ex-fiance, if that adds anything." His tone is flat and unbothered; he'd been practicing. "Found out he was cheating on me a week before the wedding, too, the bastard."

The demon looks at him in shock, then with something akin to sympathy. "That...makes a lot more sense."

"Yeah, yeah, so now he's marrying the same asshole who he left me for and had the nerve to invite me, so excuse me for not wanting to look like I'm still pining for him." Juno looks away from the demon in front of him. God, he needed a drink. Hell, he needed a liquor store.

"And...might I ask why you simply didn't...look for a human to go with?" The demon inquires softly, still staring at him. "Go on one of those those...blind dates?" Juno's head snaps back to look at him incredulously. "Have you seen this, buddy?" Juno gestures to his face; the scars around his eyepatch, and the very visibly sunken skin under it. "Ain't no one swiping right on this."

"I think you're quite handsome, actually. In a rugged way." The demon says quietly, and Juno has to laugh. "You're a natural at this boyfriend thing, bud. I almost believed you."

Before he can speak again, Juno cuts in. "Anyway, what's the payment for this again? You want my soul or something?"

"Oh, nothing so barbaric," the demon waves a hand. "We haven't asked for souls for a long time; they don't keep as well as they used to."

Juno decides not to ask about that.

"Rather, we trade in favours," his smile is back, his tone all milk and honey. "I do something for you, you do something for me, and everyone's happy."

"Uh-huh.” Like he was about to buy that. "What do you usually ask for?"

"Why ruin the surprise?" His canines peek out again, and Juno briefly wonders how the demon never manages to cut himself on his own smile. "I try not to ask for the same things twice; gets awfully boring when you do. It doesn't have to be right away, either; I could ask you years down the line instead."

Juno scowls at that. "I like my consequences to be punctual, actually."

"Good thing I'm the one planning the consequence then, hmm?" The man laughs lightly. "For now, dear, all I need is to officially seal our deal." He stands from the sofa, towering over Juno. "I am bound to your service for as long as you require me," he says, bowing slightly. "All I ask is that you give me a name."

"What do you need a name for?"

The demon shrugs. "It's a way of sealing the contract. The old way demanded that we spill the blood of a virgin, if you would prefer." He looks up from his bow, one eyebrow raised. "I'm sure you don't meet the criteria for that, but if you want we could-"

"Fine, fine!" Juno nearly shouts, willing his blood to not enter his cheeks. "You want a name that badly? Why don't you pick one?"

The demon straightens. "Well, I suppose I could think of a few names that might fit..." He taps a long finger to his chin thoughtfully. "How about...Rex Glass? That sounds exciting, doesn't it-"

"Nope. Too weird."

The demon looks at him, shocked. "Too weird?" He chokes out. "Well, I never-"

"Picked a good name before? Clearly. Try again."

The demon sighs. "Well, if you insist. How about... Perseus Shah?"

"Nope."

"Duke Rose?"

"Sounds like someone I'd want to shoot, next."

"How about a Monsieur Dauphin? A little mystery-"

"Is going to get both of us killed, try again."

"Christopher Morales?"

"Well now you just went too plain."

"You're impossible to please, did you know that?"

"So I've been told."

The demon huffs. "Well, then, how about..." His face goes thoughtful for a moment, then nostalgic, then something else altogether that Juno can't quite place. He stays like that for a moment, all softness and memory, before suddenly switching back to a rogueish grin. "I've got one. Peter... Nureyev."

He looks so pleased with himself, it takes all of Juno's willpower to not shoot it down. Because it's actually a good name. Peter Nureyev seems to fit this demon well.

"Nureyev it is, then."

And they shake on it.

[mka1098]

My Love is God

My Love Is God

Veronica x JD modern AU 

Rating: M

Warnings: swearing; death; murder; depictions of violence and blood; mentions of sociopathy and insanity; sex

I have a couple of things to explain about this AU because it’s a bit confusing. This is also gonna be a mess since I’m trying something new here. 

Backstory: JD and Veronica met in the lunchroom of their senior year when JD moved to her school. They met in a 7-11 and he was drawn to her and she didn’t push him away. They made close friends and he was so utterly in love with her. JD admitted his family problems to her and a lot of the deranged thoughts in his head. Veronica loved him a lot so she calmed him down and took him to therapy. It took time but he began to control his bloodlust and anger issues. Being 18, he moved out of his father’s house and found an apartment nearby Veronica’s home. JD became a normal teenager, more troubled than most but never wanted to do anything like bomb the school again. Veronica was his lifeline. She had saved him and helped him and he knew that. He fought his dangerous tendencies and continued going to therapy. One day, Veronica got into a huge fight with her best friend, Heather Chandler, who wanted her to get with one of the college boys at her party. It ends with them no longer being friends and Veronica humiliates Heather but reveals that Heather was too scared to even get close to kissing the college guy she was with. Heather is angered by this and hatches a plan to kill Veronica; she succeeds. And JD has just found out. 

Go easy on me please; it’s my first time writing present tense and I’m very lost 

My Love Is God

Heather Chandler hums to the mirror in her locker. Powdering her face during the passing period between the 4th and 5th period had become a regular affair. Her face got so oily; what a treacherous look would it be if people saw her face shiny? Biting her lip, Heather adjusts the red scrunchie in her hair. Ram has previously mussed it up in class and if not for her reputation; she’d rip hima  new asshole.

“Heather.” A voice calls behind her. Her eyes roll back in annoyance; who the hell thought that they were good enough to address her? 

“What in god’s name, do you want.” She says with bite in her voice. Her view catches on a darkened teen-boy. His long trenchcoat looked solely out of fashion and terrible for the nice summer weather. Her nose crinkled at his look. Face nearly covered up to the eyes, the boy stares directly at her. His dark brown eyes narrow into slits. 

“I’d like to take this outside.” He says with a dead tone. Heather’s eyes roll. What was the point of entertaining some idiot’s needs?

“Look, I don’t give a fuck about what you like. I have people to attend to, so unless you have an upper. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” She snaps. His expression remains unfazed, much to her annoyance. He was supposed to cower and fade into the background. What a \\\ douche. She fluffs her ponytail and steps out away from her locker. 

“If that’s what it will take.” He calls after her. Heather spins around, glaring at him harshly. If this kid was kidding, she was going to end him. Heather puts out her hand, accepting the offer. “One the condition… we take this outside.” He continues. His stare was burning into hers. Heather inwardly scoffs at that, she had a harsh look and didn’t appreciate anyone matching it. 

Heather breaths in but finally caves. She was fresh out and in need. “Fine.” 

The teen doesn’t say much to her on the way; he was taking long, stiff strides. His arms and hands were clenched into fists. Heather had become a master of reading body language. This boy had a plan, but clearly, was unsure about it. Heather spoke not a word. Her eyes scan over him like a hawk. His appearance did merit a reliable product, that was for certain. That terrible coat would be great for cover. 

“Where are you taking me?” Heather demands. It had registered that she had not a clue his name minutes prior however, she knew better than to act like a fool and ask like a child. “I have places to be after this. Do not, make me late. You will regret up.” Heather says haughtly, giving no empty promises. 

He stops suddenly, their surroundings were empty streets and a 7-11 in only the visible future. Heather growls harshly under her breath. “You want to know where we are? We’re here. Where it all began.” He spoke in a low tone. It was slightly raspy and very attractive if she were to be honest. Heather’s perfected blonde brow rose. 

“I know your plan. I catch on quick. I get it, I’m hot, I’m a heather. I’m the Heather. If you want a quickie I take them in a closet. You’re just extra.” Heather says in a cackling tone. If only the other Heather were here; they’d love the show of embarrassing a loner.��

The boy’s expression began to morphe, not into embarrassment, not into fluster, not even impression. Instead, his hand reaches up to the hood and it tugs the fabric down behind him. “I’m not interested in fucking you.” He says in a deadpan tone. Heather laughs in a wicked way. This boy was stupid, sure but amusing as well. 

“That’s cute.” She says, putting on a seductive smirk. The boy scowled at her. 

It was now she could see his features; somewhere in her mind, there was a face match. Perhaps his father was a movie star? His hair was messy and long; skater boy hot indeed. His jaw, sharp as ever. Wide nose, but not bad. His face sure matched his voice. 

Heathers tsks approvingly. “I get what I want though. Don’t hold back.” She winks at him. He frowns harder. 

“I’d like to talk to you about someone.”

Heather licks her lip. “Enlighten me.” Her voice having now a delicate flare to it. 

The boy glares at her. “Veronica Sawyer.” He says in a harsh tone. 

Oh. Her. She was a nuisance, to say the least. Heather sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. “Do we have to? Her funeral was last month. It’s kinda overrated.” She says mindlessly. His face tightens. 

“You were the last to see her alive.” He accuses her. Heather’s eyes roll again; God, why he about Veronica? Heather was a hot bitch and in front of him. Besides, Sawyer was being a pain in the ass, not the mention a huge snitch. 

“Not really The hospital medics took her in. They didn’t let me in.” Her lips purse into a pout. “It was unfortunate. I tried to warn her from stepping into the road. The cars were going oh so fast.”

The boy snarled at her. “Don’t act so innocent. You hated her. You were friends and then you hated her.” 

Heather gasps dramatically. Sure it was suspicious but she had been playing it off so well! “How dare you! Do you even know how traumatic that was? Watching even ex, your best friend die! The therapy has finally stopped my self-blame.” Heather defends. 

“Don’t even try and think that act works on me.” He growls. 

Heather let out a high-pitched sobbed. “Why do you-”

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He shouts at her. Heather steps back in shook. That was unexpected. 

“I know you killed her.” a finger shoves into her vision. “I know because she was so scared of going. But she went anyway because goddamnit she just had to see the best in people and hope for the best. She went because she wanted things to be just a bit more okay with you guys. But she was so scared, she knew you were going to do something; I knew you were gonna do something. You pushed her in front of that car. And I know you cackled like a fucking witch while doing it.” The boy’s mouth sprouts word afterword; his fury was increasing more and more in the most obvious way. 

Heather racks her brain. Who was he? Why did he talk to Veronica? That girl only had two other friends after Heather let go of… oh… ohhhhhh.

“So what.” She says with danger. “You as her pretty little boyfriend is now going to cry about it? Get over it, she was no big thing. I’m sure the sex wasn’t that good to miss it. We’re all long past; catch up.” Heather steps forward, her intimidation factor went higher and higher up. “Calm your tits JD. No one else is worried. Learn to read a room.” 

JD’s face explodes into angry. “You dumb bitch. You’ve never cared for a single person in your life, have you? Well, let me tell you this. We were in love. So in love. She was the best person on this shithole we call earth. Veronica saw only the best and fixed anything she could. She never turned away from someone who needed help. She fixed me. She stayed with me. And you took the brightest light away.”

Heather let out a huge laugh. “Wow, dramatic. Definitely her little plaything. Love is overrated. She’s not anything anymore. Get past yourself and find a new slut.” She says with amusement. “Be glad she died painlessly. That was the best gift I could give her. Well, painless after she was dragged across the street, but still.” Her laugh fluffed and sugared; JD didn’t seem to apparatus it. How rude. 

“She hated you. She pitied you. She almost wanted to take you to therapy like me. But in the end, she decided you weren’t even worth the effort.” JD says darkly. Heather’s expression quickly shut down. Had she heard him correctly. 

“Very funny joke.” She attempts her easy-going tone of voice but the slip-up didn’t pass him by. His mouth twists into a grin. 

“Denial. Now you know how it feels. Rejection, you’re getting a lot of frists today. Congratulations princess of the fucking school.” JD’s voice echoes all around her. Coated in a thick layer of sarcasm and condensation, he spits it out at her. “Veronica felt sorry for you. That’s why she joined your little club. Sorry for the little princess who no one really cared about. She thought, maybe I can help her. But you want to know what happened? She met you and realized… what mattered? Certainly not you. Why else did you think she took Duke to the doctors? Duke was meant enough to the world to be fixed and now she’s all brand new. Mcnamara got a personality, kinda. But Veronica thought anyone worth it, was. Too bad that wasn’t you.” His wicked smirk sears her eyes. 

“You’re bullshit,” Heather growls. He laughs;  the sound is demented. 

“Am I? Or am I right?” He continues his speech. “My Veronica wanted to help people. She did. She helped me, she saved me. She saved Martha, Duke, everyone. Just not you. You’re not going anywhere. Everyone knows… don’t you?” 

His words pound into her head. Like in a small tunnel, they echo and get louder. “Shut up.” She snaps weakly. Her ears were about to bleed. Her head began to scream. How long had it been going on? The looks; the pitying looks? The laughs, the condescending laughs that she should have been the one making. She was the queen of the school; she was going to the top of the world. Did everyone think she’d melt to the bottom? “Shut up!” JD’s voice didn’t stop. Their pace; increased. The volume; skyward. 

“Veronica would have been here to tell me to stop; to tell me to go home. She would have said, breath a little and remember me. Her hand would have touched my shoulder and slowly she would walk me home and talk about anything she could do to help. She would have cleared my mind, given me my meds, and sang a song terribly to ground me. Veronica would have been here. But she’s not.  Actually, even if was alive, she’d wouldn’t do anything of that. She’d probably dance around with me with a smile on her face saying, babe you’re doing great..” JD’s voice became mixed with wicked, deranged laughter. Like her own evil cackles, but much, much worse. The insane glint in his eyes was terrifying.

She sucks in a breath; one final one to perceive her dignity, her pride. “Veronica this. Veronica that. For the love of god, she’s DEAD! She doesn’t matter anymore, you fucking jac- oof” Heather fell forward. Had he punched her in the stomach? What a weirdo! Heather went to take in a breath, only to find she couldn’t. What the fuck? The pain was there in her body; it was growing exponentially fast. Her eyes trailed down and oh- oh- oh holy mother of fucking shit!

“DID YOU FUC-” She not longer had the ability to speak; not when there was a knife sticking out of her body. JD’s eyes stare down the crumbling girl. 

His face, wide with a grin. 

His hands, perfectly clean. 

His insanity bared itself to the world. 

“You fucking psychopath.” She growls her last words. The red liquid was leaving her body fast. 

JD remains unfazed. His deaden look, his empathy free eyes. “Sociopathic tendencies, actually. Diagnosed. They’re actually not that dangerous. This? This the anger-management issue at work.” He smiles. “This is what it feels like on the other side of the killing.” He crouches down to meet her face to face. Heather musters the strength to growl. 

“What do you... want me to say? Dear diary? My teenage angst bullsh- bullshit now has a body count?” She snarls back. JD laughs. 

“No.” His voice, dark as ever.  “You’ve never loved a person in your life clearly. And no one has ever loved you, not a surprise there.” He stands up straight, looming like a darkened villain. “Let me tell you something. I love Veronica Sawyer. She was going to be Veronica Dean. I love her. More than anything in this fucking shit-world. I’ll worship her till the end of time. We had the strongest love in the universe. She was a goddess; you shouldn’t have killed her.” 

Heather’s eyes roll for the last time. “Dear god, this whole love shit you’re trying to pull on me is really annoying the last minutes of my death” She voices drily. JD crouches down to her again, lifting her chin with a rough tug. 

“Our love was so strong; it could have killed dinosaurs. I’ll settle for killing you though.” He threw down her face aggressively. The blood letched out to the ground. She scowls for the last time. 

“We could have made a pretty good murder couple.” She comments.  JD laughs and steps away, removing black gloves to shove in his pocket. “Dear God, just kill me now.” Heather expresses haughtily. 

JD laughs darkly. “Right you are my dear. Veronica and I… our love was god; it could have killed worlds. But she’s gone now. I’m left. So yes. My love is god.” Heather’s eyes began to feel heavy; was he slipping away farthing into the distance or was she dying faster? This was it wasn’t it? She grimaces. 

“My love is god. It has killed you. Isn’t that just beautiful?” 

Okay, I know it seems like I made Veronica seem like a Mary Sue and JD as this romantic guy. Let me explain things now that I have finished the story. 

Veronica hated Heather C and after helping JD, she started helping other people but she chose not to help Heather C who clearly has problems

Veronica was actually kinda okay with the murder. There was nowhere to put this and I briefly mentioned it, sorta at least, but if she didn’t like the person she was fine with JD killing them. She wanted to curb JD’s bloodlust, but she had accepted it as part of him and never was fully like THIS IS WRONG. As JD said, she would have laughed with him as he killed Heather C. 

Veronica was also kinda manipulative. I didn’t know where to put this but basically, Veronica started to isolate Heather without her even knowing. She’s not a Mary Sue, I swear it’s just not a long story

Heather C. had a lot of clear mental issues that Veronica literally just ignored and used to her advantage. She has such narcissistic behaviors, Veronica was able to get people to turn on her all while she thought she was the queen

People stopped caring about Heather C. Like they basically just made fun of her and were sarcastic to her. But with all of her mental issues and stuff, it twisted in her mind to make them think they were worshipping her. People shot her dirty looks or laughed at her, but she didn’t notice that. 

Heather D. got help for her bulimia because of Veronica. She thus was given kindness and was not a huge bitch 

Heather M. also became less of a bitch. She wasn’t one before, it was just she followed Heather C. around too much. Veronica helped her. 

Martha had Veronica back and it helped her feel like she had a true friend and ended up saving her from her depression

VERONICA IS STILL NOT AN ANGEL I REALIZE THAT’S HOW IT SOUNDS 

JD is possessive and Veronica has learned to live with it. It’s kinda unhealthy but not dangerous to her so that’s why she puts up with it. It’s directed towards other people

JD praises Veronica. She is the only thing in his life. She’s his mildly unhealthy but weirdly good fixation 

JD is adamant he and Veronica will end up together. There is nothing else. It will happen in his mind. His head is still a little twisted, though better than before. He’s not trying to kill for baby reasons now. He’d kill for Veronica and that’s basically it

Veronica’s parents do not like JD but deal with him for her 

Heather C. invited Veronica to a girl’s trip to bond a bit and make-up, then she pushed her into a street. Veronica didn’t want to go but she was too trusting and nice, like how she was in the movie and musical n trusting JD

JD goes on to flee the town and Heather C. Is discovered to be dead at the end of the school day

Now, I’m not totally sure what this is. It was an idea in my head and I needed it out. It’s not very good, It’s not the level of gore and blood I think my honestly messed-up mind needs to get out, but it can suffice Basically, I have my own mental problems, though I don’t know what they are currently, but they do give me a lot of problems. Writing is my healthy way of expressing them rather than screaming at my friends. That was my old way… not good. Anyways, hope you guys liked this story. 

[kickstillkickin]

Klance Month 2020 Day 2 -  Coffee Shop

Keith had never been more exhausted in his life. The bar had kept him late because some asshole thought it was a splendid idea to throw up all over the bathroom and not tell any of the staff. Then Shiro had called him in a panic, because it was his and Adam's two year anniversary tomorrow and the dolt had forgotten to get a present. Cue a caffeine-fueled run to Walmart, accompanied by his dumbass brother, to purchase a photo album for all Shiro's spare copies. Upon finally arriving home, he discovered that his upstairs neighbors had been arguing themselves halfway to a divorce and seemed determined that the whole complex be made aware of it. He spent all of twenty minutes trying to fall asleep before he gave into his lesser self and took a couple doses of NyQuil. The medicine netted him a grand total of two hours of sleep. It felt more like negative twelve. He was completely awake when his alarm went off and felt like death.

The sun was too bright when he stepped outside the apartment, wearing a work shirt that had a stain and two different shoes. Keith wondered if it was because he hadn't noticed or because he hadn't cared. He pondered the answer during his commute until even rational thought proved too exhausting. Fifteen minutes later, he stepped off the bus in a daze and glared at the bright neon sign, declaring this hellhole of a location to be Beans N' Stuff, a local eclectic's personal venture into the coffee business. He didn't usually mind working there. Then again, he didn't usually show up looking paler than a ghost and more interested in digging his own grave than interacting with another human being.

A little bell rang when he opened the door. He paused a moment to glare at it, contemplating the consequences of ripping it from the door frame. Then thinking hurt too much again. He trudged into the back and collected his cap and apron. As he was signing in to the register, a familiar presence appeared over his shoulder. Ignoring it, he finished his task and moved past his coworker to the coffee machine.

Pidge didn't even have time to express their totally expected and completely warranted "you look like shit" before Keith flipped open his thermos, added no less than four shots of espresso, a 5-hour Energy that appeared out of thin air, and filled the rest with black coffee. He closed the lid and downed half the thermos in a few swallows. Pidge amended their statement. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Do not speak to me. I have seen hell and will murder anyone who speaks too loudly," he snapped.

"You know what, that's valid, but Matt isn't here and Coran says I'm not allowed to operate the register," they informed him.

Keith glared at his thermos. "If God exists, he is a cruel being. And as soon as I get some sleep, I'm gonna kick his ass."

"I'll be in the back," Pidge said diplomatically. They weren't touching anything about the situation with a ten foot pole.

Keith sipped his thermos and resigned himself to an eight-hour shift. He opened up shop, took orders, and answered customers' dumb questions like a good little employee. When his thermos was empty, he refilled the same order and chugged it again. To keep a poker face, he tried to think happy thoughts. Like murdering his brother, or maybe his neighbors. The longer he stood listening to out-dated pop songs, he added the owner of the damned shop to the list. Customers came and went in a blur. He thought he remembered Pidge asking if he needed a break, but couldn't recall his answer.

Then he walked in. The most attractive creature to ever grace the earth. A customer that was not quite a regular, but Keith had seen him more than once. He seemed to be nothing more than a harmless flirt, and someone who could only dish it out, at that. But those blue eyes were going to be the death of Keith's gay ass. Just, they were going to be the death of him tomorrow. After he died of exhaustion today.

"I'll have a salted caramel white chocolate mocha with whipped cream."

Though physically repulsed by just hearing how much sugar was in the order, he punched it into the computer and kept a straight face. "Can I get a name for the order?"

"The name's Lance," Handsome Almost-Regular said with what seemed to be a flirty undertone.

Keith nodded and typed the name in. "Your total is $5.67."

Lance paid and Keith informed him that his order would be ready momentarily. Pidge prepared it in record time, and even went so far as to nudge him rather aggressively with her elbow. Keith was both confused and offended. He took the cup to the front counter. "Lance," he called out in a dead monotone.

"You know, that's not how people usually call out my name," Lance purred as he leaned over the counter.

Keith was exhausted, barely functioning, and not paid enough to deal with things like this. He did not think about the words that came out of his mouth. "Sorry, I'll try to sound more disappointed next time."

The look on Lance's face was akin to that of the surprised pikachu meme. Pidge hung out the doorway from the back, shocked beyond belief. Unbothered, Keith handed him the coffee cup, mumbled something about having a nice day, and moved on to helping the next customer. It was not until Lance had left the coffee shop near tears, leaving behind a dumbfounded audience and an exasperated coworker, that Keith's lagging brain finally processed the whole conversation.

"Shit!"

"I think that was some kind of record. Most idiotic gay barista turns away interested party and gives him emotional trauma, all in less than five minutes," Pidge told him.

Keith had thoroughly and completely fucked up. Oh, and he needed a nap.

. . .

By the time he trudged into work the next day, Keith had come to the conclusion that God was not only real, he was also dedicated solely to fucking with him as much as possible. Despite having the night off from bartending, he'd hardly slept, too tormented by the idiocy of his own stupid actions. Pidge had texted to make fun of him no less than seven times, and had undoubtedly told their entire circle of friends about it. At the very least, Matt didn't say anything when he walked in looking like death twice over.

"You want the front or the back today?" Matt asked as Keith signed in.

What if Lance came back? Keith should be working up front so he could apologize. Then, a second, more horrifying thought occurred to him. What if Lance came back? He couldn't allow himself to be seen. Lance needed to think that he'd crawled into a hole and died, never to be seen by the general populace again. He would willingly go down in history as the world's dumbest and least functional gay if it meant never having to make meaningful contact with Hot Coffee Customer ever again.

"The back," Keith said solemnly, though it felt more like he was reading out his sentence then answering his coworker's question.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Matt told him, patting him on the shoulder.

Keith resigned himself to a shift with this older, subtler brand of Pidge insults. As he turned to start prepping the machines, he caught Matt whipping out his phone. His coworker typed out, "u owe me 20 bucks" and hit send with a bit too much satisfaction. So Pidge and Matt had taken bets on his answer. Smart of Matt to pick the more cowardly option, he thought to himself as he washed his hands. Dysfunctional gays tended toward dysfunction, after all. He busied himself with cleaning out the coffee pots while Matt opened up shop.

As much as Keith tried to drive the catastrophic events of yesterday from his thoughts, he still flinched every time that damned bell rang. Matt greeted customers like a goddamn proper employee. Something Keith was apparently not. No, he just insulted them and moved on. But only if they flirted with him. Everyone else just got the monotone customer service voice. Lance? Emotional trauma for him, of course. The same train of thought played in his head on a loop as he prepared orders and sent them out. He tried to ignore the handful of female customers that flirted with his coworker and grit his teeth whenever Matt flirted back. Something else he was evidently incapable of.

Just a few hours into his shift, the strangest order came in. A salted caramel white chocolate mocha with whipped cream. Why was that familiar? Had an obnoxious white girl ordered it? Keith racked his brain and found himself drawing a blank. The only thing he remembered was-

Of course! Another look at the screen told him the customer's name was Lance. How many Lance's lived in one city, went to the same coffee shop, and ordered the exact same disgusting sugar-filled drink? Keith prepped the order, determined to make amends with the world's stupidest and most inept attempt at flirting: a bad pun on the coffee cup, written over his phone number. Matt took the coffee from him and handed it to the customer. He prayed to whatever deities were willing to listen that he hadn't just made the second biggest mistake of his life.

Matt found him like that a few seconds later when he stepped into the back for a moment. "Hey Keith, I think that was the guy insulted yesterday," Matt informed him. "Pidge's description was spot on."

"Was it? I had no idea," Keith said with a shrug, preparing the next order.

Disappointed that he'd failed to get a rise out of his coworker (and probably more disappointed that he had nothing to report to his gremlin of a sibling), Matt returned to the front and left him alone for the rest of his shift.

Keith felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Even if Hot Coffee Stranger forever hated his guts for his complete social ineptitude, he'd managed to apologize. Now, of course, there was plenty of room in his chest for anxiety over Lance's response. Would he text? Would he call? Would it be right away? Would he wait? Was he going to report him to the police and get a restraining order? It was truly a coin toss. At the very least, the unsettling feeling in his chest was better than the heavy knowledge of his own stupidity.

Closing came sooner than he expected. Keith waved Matt off as he walked the short distance to the bus stop. As he settled into his seat, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text message. From an unknown number. Keith couldn't help the stupid grin that was stuck on his face all the way home.

. . .

Lance let out a huge sigh of relief as he exited the coffee shop. His plan had been to look for the barista through the front window. If it was the same asshole as yesterday, he would walk right on by and mournfully purchase his morning pick-me-up from another shop. He hadn't recognized the employee working, and didn't even see so much as a mullet-shaped hair of He Who Shall Not Be Named. Then, right as he went to take a sip of his delicious, precious coffee, he saw writing. 

I regret yesterday a latte

Call me?

XXX-XXX-XXXX

It was the dumbest pickup line he'd ever heard in his life, and some of the competition were pickup lines he himself had used. But it made him laugh. And, now that he thought about it, that barista had looked a little worse for wear. He was definitely cute enough to be given another chance. Any gay idiot who wrote bad coffee puns on a coffee cup was definitely someone Lance could spend some time getting to know. The barista didn't need to know that, though. He'd probably wait a few hours before texting him. And then a few more, just to make him sweat.

Lance took a sip of his coffee, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Maybe he'd even wait a few more after that.

[austerlitzborodinoleipzig]

The Timeless Children review.

There’s a lot to say about the Timeless Children, but setting aside discussion about what that new lore dump means for the show, and trying to keep things about this episode...

A bad episode with okay lore, and some noted improvements on Chibnall’s part. 

I’m okay with retcons. It’s Doctor Who. Nothing is sacred. (I mean, except the core values of the main character. Having the Doctor selling the Master to the Nazis as a POC is so much worse). Things will get retconned/modified. Are certain retcons bullshit? Yes, but that’s another matter. Fundamentaly I don’t think Who canon, if there’s even such thing, should be kept safe. Like it or not, the showrunner is in charge. There’s no such thing as respect for the fans, or for the previous eras. 

And like I’m the first to complain but really if Chibshow wants to stick the middle finger at Moffat show, that’s his godamm right. The showrunner has full ownership of the show, otherwise it would hamper the creative process. We can discuss why the changes made are bad, but saying “How dare Chibnall retcon the deep lore” is idiotic. 

So kudos to Chibnall for daring. I mean The Timeless Children left a bad aftertaste in my mouth, but hey it was engaging. I wanted to know more, which compared to Series 11 is a vast improvement. 

So yes lore was okay. 

Did I like the reveal/retcon ? Not really. 

Is it possible to make something interesting out of that? I’ve seen some good takes about it, so yeah. On the downside this is Chibnall we’re talking about, so trust him to pick the least interesting idea.

Will I come to terms with it? I did not like the idea of the War Doctor, or the fact that Doctor saved Gallifrey at first. I’ve come round since, and even like it now. I expect I’ll have digested all of it in the coming months, and I’ll be able to make it fit with my own headcanons/continuity/personal conception of Doctor Who... 

Does it really change anything? The Timeless Child, not so much. All the pre-Hartnell Doctors and the fact that the Doctor worked for the CIA (or the Division, whatever the fuck the difference is), yes, a lot, and I like it even less. 

Are there ways to go around it? Yes there are. And also the scope of Doctor Who is so big, you can comfortably ignore it. 

The episode was bad.

Bad because the lore was infodumped in the most boring and unimaginative way, with the Master just doing exposition for 60% of the runtime. Also the Matrix looks boring. Fucking grey background.

Ashad is perhaps the Chibnall villain with the most potential. I’m still thinking voluntarily converted Cyberman is a great idea that deserved a lot more of exploring. There’s really some fascinating implications... And all of that got flushed down the toilet, because Ashad got unceremoniously killed by the Master. 

Also, hello big MacGuffin death particle. Chibnall, would it kill you to make the effort to introduce the great big “plot-resolve” button in the previous episode?What a convenient reveal with no groundwork, that feels telegraphed from a mile. 

Worst of it is probably the moment where the Doctor awakes, ensues some excruciating moments, where the Doctor tries to figure out the Master’s plan, while we, the audience have already been informed, by means of exposition. And then we get more exposition for the death particle we already got 20 minutes ago, with bad dialogue to boot. “There’s a myth...” Oh ffs! Why use myth? Nothing in that dialogue is mythic, Chibnall is not lyrical enough for it. That’s imitation of mythic.

Also unclear on the specifics of how the death particle works. Per the Master and Ashad, it erases all the life in the Galaxy. And then during exposition n°2, provided by Ravio, we hear it only erases life on one planet, which is what the Doctor tries to do at the end. 

But “all organic life”... By all account had Ashad activated it, it would have killed the Cybermen as well, or at least him. They’re not pure robots and we can clearly see with Ashad that there’s organic living bits underneath. So all that big ascension will be without Ashad. Of course you could make the case that the Ascension is really the Cyberium’s aim and that it does not care the slightest about Ashad. 

Also we shall have dominion... Over what, if you killed everyone? Again, poorly thought out motivations for Ashad. Mostly it sounds cool, but it’s empty when you take a closer look at it. 

And speaking of the Cyber Time Lords. Well, we’re told they were made with the corpses of dead Time Lords the Master kept. If they’re dead, we’re assuming it’s permanent death, otherwise they would have regenerated... So where the hell does the regeneration ability comes from? And if they are corpses in Cybersuits, how come they would be affected by the death particle, as they are definitely not living?

I mean it’s Doctor Who so I’m willing to overlook this details if there’s a good story told behind it. Like, the Daleks’ plot in The Dalek Invasion of Earth is fucking stupid. Let’s mine the Earth’s core, to replace it with a motor and then drive Earth around in space, like a big spaceship. But then that’s a small detail in an episode whose purpose is elsewhere : presenting a dystopian vision of England, a post apocalyptic, facist world. It’s about the pure dread for the spectator of seing his world overrun by space Nazis. It’s the first episode of the show’s history with an alien invasion. It’s also about Susan. And there’s also quite a chunk devoted to mostly Barbara, but also Ian for a bit: how they react to that world that seems familiar and at the same time, completely alien. 

Here there’s no story behind it. It’s basically a dressing for the big lore reveal. 

It’s a bad Cyberman story. Nothing about the Cyberzealot is really explored in a meaningful way. He’s supposedly conflicted... Yeah because we’re told so by the Doctor in Ascension. Show not tell, yadda, yadda, yadda... So Cybermen are nothing more than your generic evil robots... And even the Master sees how stupid that is and takes the piss (rightly so). 

Supporting cast is there for nothing more than exposition, or action sequences that do nothing more than distracting us from the lore reveal, because that’s the only thing really going on in that ep. 

And yet again we have a final that does a piss poor job with the companions. Second in a row. To be fair, Battle of Raging Avatar tried to give some closure to Ryan and Graham... It just did it so badly it does not even register as a try. 

This time Yaz is the better served with three(!) character bits. Tis only fair after Series 11. But still feels underbaked. I mean I think it will all depend on whether she leaves with the Christmas Special. She still has been massively underserved by the show. The last episodes, starting with Praxeus she did get some good content, but that‘s a bit late and still not enough, when you compare it with the other New Who companions. And well one of Yaz’s traits is her need for validation from the Doctor... and here she gets it from Graham??? In itself it’s a really fine moment. but underwhelming if that is to be the conclusion of her arc. 

And again, there’s only minimal progression in terms of development for the fam. Yaz has perhaps the most significant one, going from   Doctor is the best person -> I’m the best person. 

Graham has mostly been stucked with comic relief this series, and goes from. Decent bloke that married Grace to ... You’re okay?? 

Ryan... I feel this season really did not know what to do with him. He doesn’t have anything to do in the final, just fire at a bunch of Cybermen. That bit with the bomb is one of the most half-assed excuses for an arc I’ve seen. So Ryan beats dyspraxia, said dyspraxia being only mentioned when it’s convenient, or when we need to establish the character, because he really believes in himself and focuses??? And yet I had so much hope after Woman Who Fell To Earth and that really good bike scene. 

Also the relationship between the Doctor and her fam is again unresolved... My fam, I need them... That feels unearned after a whole season of agressively pushing the Doctor and the companions apart, and with the Doctor becoming more and more distant, and sometimes an asshole. I was waiting for the show to adress that... And it peters out.  The episode fails on an emotional level. 

The big climax... Sigh... Is yet another riff from RTD, this time from that super good scene from Parting of the Ways... Except less well done, because we’ve seen all that before, what else is new? Also the resolution of that in Series 1 was a moment of grace and love, and just beautiful, and felt satisfying, and paid off the Doctor’s arc... Here we have wannabe-Obi-Wan/Luke-from-the-sequel conveniently sacrifying himself. Again, the less well done remix of the RTD years. And that final cliffhanger would have been charming had we not been coming from a season that consistently mined the RTD-nostalgia. 

That bit with Ruth was lovely, and gives me some hope for the way the lore is going to be treated but... Doctor!Ruth is magnificent and yet again upstages Thirteen a bit. And I think it’s a bit of a problem when your incumbent Doctor gets upstaged by other incarnations...

Another problem here is that the Doctor remains totally passive, ineffective, and with limited agency throughout the episode, which was... eh. Doesn’t make for a good story. 

Still some things were good

The Master was definitely the best thing about this episode. Maybe unpopular opinion but Chibnall nailed the Master. So many good moments

the whole kicking himself for not thinking of a good one liner before zapping the Ashad

his whole motivation: I’ve seen some really good posts going round, but of course everything is totally in character for the Master. Jealousy at being upstaged by the Doctor, again. Hint of race supremacy. Cannot bear the fact that his not from the Master race, because all his claims to superiority have gone up in smoke. He’s not a renegade prince anymore. He’s a renegade fake. 

That really good bit where he’s sad his gamble paid off, and he did not died when killing Ashad. This is a suicidal Master, a bit like Simm, but Simm had the rage to live, while Dhawan!Master... Just wants to sow destruction, doesn’t matter if it’s his own. Mostly really broken, with an identity crisis no less than the Doctor’s and going on a destructive rampage instead. 

The carped is red because it’s drenched in the blood of the Time Lords. That line and its delivery is one of the highlights of the episode. It’s so perfectly ridiculous and bad on purpose and over the top. 

Also Dhawan has a really great voice and I could here him speak forever. Does he narrate books?

Interesting how even if he’s Thirteen’s Master, the Dhawan Master just screams Eleven. The clothes. The mannerism, the lines and the delivery... I could see Smith in his performance. 

Another good bit is Ko Sharmus... Finally someone to articulate why the whole take “guns=bad” that was going on these two series was bad. Because yeah sometimes people try to kill you so you have to fight back. 

I was afraid that Ko Sharmus would be undermined... And he’s the hero of the episode. And I’m really glad that Thirteen failure to fire the bomb was depicted for what it was... A failure. Because then Ko Sharmus gets his hero moment and saves the day, by firing it. 

Criticism of the Doctor’s position for what it is: self righteousness and hypocrisy?? In my Chibshow??? That’s more likely than you think.

And finally the Cyber Time Lords were ridiculous and I loved everything about the design. 

So really, my problem is not the lore. My problem is that Chibnall is going balls to the wall, firing from all cylinders, doing big lore... And still fails to tell an engaging story. 

[countess-rosegold-blog]

Checking Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, nothing really happens

Word Count: 1,149

Note: This is the first part of a mini-series I’m trying to finish. For the main note, check the MASTERLIST HERE. 

If you happen to like, re-blog, or drop any feedback, thank you! I appreciate you.

You groan in the dark. You're in bed, blankets wrapped around your body and it's the wee hours of Saturday morning. It would have been cozy if not for the fact that you're awake way before sunrise because you've dreamt about Howard Fucking Stark. Again.

You sit up slowly and grab your phone to check the time--4: 14. "Stupid, stupid Stark," you grumble. You know sleep is a lost cause at this point so you peel yourself away from bed. Grabbing your phone, you head to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water.

You scroll to your conversation and begrudgingly type a text:

You and this Angel girl better end up getting married or I'll strangle you to your death.

The shrill sound of your ringtone moments later almost gives you a heart attack. "Jesus Christ!" You yell in the emptiness. Then you answer the call. "What is wrong with you?!"

"Good morning to you too, love."

Annoyance builds up in your belly. "Don't call me that."

"Why not? You're my beautiful girlfriend, after all." You can hear him smirk through the line.

You scoff. "Please."

"What was it this time, love? I'd like to say nightmares, but your text didn't seem like it," you hear him humming through the other end, as if thinking about it. Then silence. You're thinking you lost the connection until he's back saying, "Was it... a wet dream?"

"Stupid jerk!" You say it with indignation but he's having a hearty laugh. "Why are you even awake?"

"So it WAS a wet dream!" More laughter.

Urgh! There's no winning with him. "Get over yourself, Howard."

"Well I'm flattered, thank you very much. And just so you know, I've been up all night working for this project I have for her, so maybe we'll get married in the future, after all." You can hear the smile and can almost picture it on his stupid face. If he wasn't so in love, you know you'd give him hell. But this was different. A first. So you let it go.

"Good to know. Well, you better get on with it then."

"I miss you too, Y/N." He drawls.

"Bye, asshole."

You hear his laugh ring in your ears long after you've hung up.

When you're left to your thoughts again, you groan. The idiot was right--it was a wet dream. Which was disorienting because you never saw him like that. Despite your shenanigans for the last month, you and Howard Stark have been nothing but platonic since forever. You were good friends with him--which made you question your life choices--but nothing's changing that.

On one of his tech trips to L.A. last December, he met this girl whom he was clearly enamored by. And just like every other woman, you simply thought What's new. But the girl turned down Howard's invitation for dinner and did not want anything to do with him, which WAS new and boy was it refreshing. Like a proper adult man and despite not being used to it, Howard sucked it up, found him some other woman who'd say yes, and went home to New York.

But January came and the months following that and he still can't stop thinking about her. Convinced it wasn't a simple crush, he decided he'd Man Who Can't be Moved his way back to the City of Angels and look for her again.

She was working for the Cyber Circuit, a big time tech website. He'd known that detail at the tech summit where they'd met and that she was called 'Ange', but nothing more. Equipped with that mere knowledge and his dedication, Howard marched his way to the Cyber Circuit building and asked the front desk very nicely that he'd like to meet up with 'Ange'. You'd think there would be a lot of ‘Ange’s in the building, but Howard Stark must have done some good in a past life or some alternate universe because he found out right then and there that 'Ange' was the one and the only Angela Martinelli, badass Managing Editor of the Techs of Tomorrow section.

Still, his personality in THIS lifetime counts and the front desk informs him of what he already knows: Angie doesn't want to meet him.

That didn’t deter him, of course. He bought five dozens of sunflower bouquets and had them sent to her office with a simple note--You are radiant than any of these sunflowers combined.

She did not appreciate the sweet gesture, though, thanks to her allergic rhinitis.

The memory of his efforts make you laugh. You catch yourself; you’re alone in your dark kitchen, after all. And in these early hours before dawn, you reflect.

Who would’ve thought. Howard Womanizer Takes-Nothing-Seriously Stark, finally smitten. You sigh, happy for your friend but alarmed for your future. You don’t know why but you have the feeling that if Howard, of all people, gets to find the love of his life before you do, it spells doom.

“Oh God,” you say to no one, panic in your voice. “This is why people should be asleep at this hour.” You wash the glass and prepare to head back to your room when out of the shadows, a figure manifests.

Your heart drops to your stomach and you scream--until you register what the figure is. “Fuck!” You scream at the coat rack that carried your gigantic and fluffy windbreaker.

Your heart rate barely adjusts when there’s a knock at your door. “Y/N! Everything alright? Are you okay?!”

Great. Now the neighbors are awake. You make your way to the door and open it, steel blue-grey eyes looking at you with concern.

“Hi, I’m so sorry I woke you!” You whisper to him.

“No, you didn’t. I was awake. You okay?” He steps closer and the hallway light brings shadows to his face; his light stubble accentuating his jaw. “Is someone in there?”

You’re surprised by his concern. “Wha--no. I’m alone.”

He looks inside then at you. “I heard you…”

“Oh!” You feel your cheeks burn. “I’m really sorry. I was on the phone, then had a little panic attack by the shadow of my windbreaker,” this makes you chuckle. “Otherwise, I’m good.”

His expression softens. “Okay. You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile, touched by the thoughtfulness in his eyes. It is this time that you notice that he’s barefoot, combined with his plain black t-shirt and sweatpants, his short brown hair a little tousled. Wow, he’s so... pretty.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’m gonna…” he gestures with his hands to his door, a sleepy smile on his face.

“Really sorry. And thank you, James. For checking up on me.”

His face brightens, “You’re welcome, doll.” You begin to close your door when he adds, “Oh, and please call me Bucky.”

Part 2: Pickles Favor

[reddielibrary]

prompt: both work at the coffee shop and talk sometimes but that's enough to make each of them fall for each other. one day business is slow so richie and eddie get some coffee and have a mini date in their own job!! boom then they're rlly in love and they all live happily ever after - for anonymous

written by: Alexis | @quixoticquest

read on AO3

“I’m sorry ma’am, the peppermint bark latte is a seasonal drink. We don’t serve it until December.”

“What? Are you kidding me?” The woman across the counter levelled an incredulous glare at Eddie, as if he had spit in her face instead of reporting something he thought to be very reasonable. “I drove all the way here and you don’t have it?”

“We don’t. It’s a holiday drink,” Eddie answered, clinging to the scripted explanations that usually worked on perfectly rational customers. Who the fuck wanted a hot mint chocolate coffee in the summer anyway?

This woman, however, was anything but rational. “Can’t you just grab some syrup from the back, or whatever the hell you use to make it? It’s not that hard to flavor a latte.”

“We don’t have what we use to flavor it, ma’am. Since it’s, y’know, June?”

“Don’t get fresh with me! I know what month it is!”

“Then you should know we don’t have any fuc-”

“Whoa there, amigo.” The edge in Eddie’s voice died off as his coworker sidled up next to him - as if there was any room in front of the POS for two. “That’s no way to talk to a customer as lovely as any other.” Smooth as you like, Richie took over, laying it on thick. “No worries, ma’am, we might not have peppermint bark, but I’ll tell you what we do have - mint, and mocha. I’ll whip you up a latte with both and you won’t even know the difference. We don’t have the peppermint flakes to sprinkle on top but I can do chocolate shavings. Whaddaya say?”

For a tense moment, they glared between the three of them, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly style. Eddie wasn’t sure where he and Richie fell but he was pretty damn certain this nuisance customer was decidedly the Ugly.

“I guess that’s fine,” she finally grumbled, leaving Eddie to wonder where that grudging acceptance had been when he was dishing out facts.

“Awesome! Eds here’ll ring you up for that. You want any whipped cream?”

“Just to melt into the latte? No thank you.”

The awful woman passed over a wad of bills and moved on to the pickup counter without even dropping her change in the tip jar. When no one came through the dinky door at the front of the shop, and no one to the register, Eddie took up the flimsy plastic sleeve of hot cups Richie had been using to stock up, before he swooped in to save the day.

“I could have handled that,” he mumbled next to Richie as he shoved cups into the rack, unable to use his normal volume with the Peppermint Bark Bitch within earshot.

“You could have,” Richie exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically, squirting equal parts mocha and mint into the steaming cup in his hand. “You would have cursed her out and it would have been glorious. I might weep hot tears of joy just thinking about it. But also, like, you probably would have gotten fired, which isn’t so glorious, ya know? ‘Specially since I’d be so lost without you.”

Richie winked, and topped the dumb latte off with a sprinkle of the aforementioned chocolate shavings, before passing it down to the pickup counter. Eddie stood there, hands planted on his hips, frowning - doing a very good impression of someone who didn’t get flustered at the mercy of one stupid wink.

With that awful woman on her merry stupid way, the rest of the shop appeared exceedingly empty. Four o’clock on a weekday in the summer wasn’t the most prolific hour for a small town coffee shop, with lunchtime passed and the morning rush long over - which meant all they could really do before their shift was over, was clean and restock until someone else came in.

When it came to maintenance, Eddie always worked faster than Richie, wiping down the machines and filling the cups and lids like a champ - while the dumb brunet spent ten minutes at a time with a rag in the pastry case. Depending on how long they had been there, he may or may not start whining too. Whatever the reason for Richie’s shitty cleaning ethic, though, he made up for it in spades with his customer service. How he got through the full five or six hours without throwing a piping hot cup of coffee in some asshole’s face, Eddie would never know.

“This is boring,” Richie huffed, already whining as he crossed his arms leaning over the counter, where the orange afternoon sun set all the muted browns in the wood and his hair and apron to sepia. “I dunno why mid shift has to do this. Night shift does a whole fucking sweep of the place and God knows only the truckers and drunks are gonna be in here then.”

“Maybe food service isn’t for you,” Eddie mentioned, just barely managing to keep the smile from curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You’re right.” The four-eyed brunet sighed as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders (he didn’t), spinning to perch the other way, with his elbows balanced on the counter. His voice took on a soulful southern twang. “Mama always told me to get outta this one horse town. That I was born for the stage. That we’re all born superstars. She’d roll my hair, and put my lipstick on, in the glass of her boud-”

He got a face full of coffee-soaked rag, courtesy of Eddie. “Those are the lyrics to Born This Way!”

He didn’t realize he was staring until Richie transitioned entirely, hauling himself up to stand straight, for once.

“You don’t belong here either,” he mentioned, pointing a finger toward Eddie’s chest. “I’d peg you for a lawyer, but I’m not sure that mouth of yours would fly with the judge.”

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie retorted. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he wanted, or where he wanted to be. Just that this job payed a little better than minimum wage, included tips, and would hopefully get him somewhere better, someday.

He could think of one thing he might want though, glancing sidelong at Richie, aimlessly tidying the display next to the counter. And he didn’t even have to pay for it at all.

“I can’t really think of anything else to straighten up,” Eddie admitted eventually, rubbing his teeth over his bottom lip as his gaze trailed around the service area.

“You know what that means. Break time!” Spinning on the heels of his worn-out Chuck Taylors, Richie yanked a plastic cup from the stand - indication enough that he was going for his usual frozen favorite. “I’m making myself a drink.”

Suddenly, spurred by his presumption, an absurd idea came over Eddie. Without really thinking, he came forward and snatched the cup out of Richie’s hand, with all the gusto of someone following through with a concise course of action. This, however, was anything but.

“I know how you take yours,” he finally said, his mouth working at the same speed as his brain. “Bet I can make it perfectly.”

Richie blinked for a way too long second, long enough that Eddie’s blood started rushing with the weight of how stupid he was being. But finally, the idiot’s face took on a look of mock judgement, and he crossed his arms with put-upon petulance.

“Alright, Edspresso, do your worst.”

Calm again, and set to task, Eddie set the cup down on the prep counter and got to work. “A large caramel mocha frappe, no espresso,” he explained, narrating his actions with a dramatic roll of his eyes as he shovelled ice, milk and syrup into the blender. For a few seconds the tiny coffee shop filled with the buzz of the spinning blades, and Eddie remained silent until the noise settled, along with the thick concoction.

“Caramel drizzle around the cup,” he continued, demonstrating just so (with expert drizzling skill, if he did say so himself). He poured the frappe mixture into the cup, and darted away to grab the whipped cream can out of the ice bin. “Extra extra extra whipped cream, and to top it all off, caramel and chocolate drizzle.”

When all was said and done, with the dome lid capped over a mountain of whipped cream shooting out the hole in the middle, Eddie presented drink and straw to Richie, smiling rather smugly.

“In short, a diabetic coma waiting to happen.”

That familiar, toothy grin split onto Richie’s face, and he slow clapped for Eddie (a ridiculous gesture that definitely didn’t have him several sorts of secretly flattered).

“Well how ‘bout that.” The frappe passed from Eddie’s hands into Richie’s and he took a sip off the straw, indulging a few lip-smacks, wafting the cup under his nose as if it were wine. “Not bad, Eds, not bad. Your top drizzle is a little sloppy but I know the nozzle on the chocolate is fucked. Solid nine and a half.”

“Oh buzz off, Richie.” Eddie made to jab the idiot in the ribs but Richie was too fast, side-stepping with all the grace of a gangly newborn horse. The idiot then set his frozen confection on the counter, and plucked out another plastic cup.

“Now for you.” Winking again, Richie bopped the cup against Eddie’s nose, but was gone before the shorter brunet could protest - and the potential of Richie knowing how he took his coffee was just too great to resist, and so he clammed up.

“Medium iced hazelnut,” Richie began easily, with the tone and air of a proper English butler whilst shovelling ice and squirting flavoring. “Little less ice. Two sugars, two skim, two shots of espresso - which is probably why you’re so wound up all the time, but that’s none of my business.”

A sprinkle of sugar here and a spot of milk there and he filled the rest of the cup with coffee, gave it a good mix, and snapped a lid on before finally offering the drink to Eddie. “Short and sweet, just like you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie mentioned, almost tightly as he took the coffee out of Richie’s hands, lips twitching as he fought yet another smile. Judging by Richie, who couldn’t resist a smile, he probably thought he had done a fantastic job. And to some extent, he had.

“But this is my morning order,” Eddie declared, closing his lips over the straw for a sip anyway.

Richie’s face fell. “What?!”

“Two espresso shots in the afternoon? Are you fucking nuts? My heart’ll give out.” Eddie rolled his eyes and scoffed. “If I get iced coffee later in the day I ditch the espresso and go one skim. I might even get a small too.”

“Well that’s not my fault! Sorry I don’t know the inner workings of your complicated coffee regimen!”

“Shut up, you dumbass,” Eddie griped. Before his lips could stretch too much, he took another sip, effectively quelling any inclination to smile. No way he was going to let himself finish the entire caffeine-pumped drink, though. “Besides, you were technically right anyways.”

Richie seemed satisfied with that at least, taking a moment to lick off the whipped cream puffing out over his cup. Eddie watched him for a moment, out of the corner of his eye. Even if his coffee hadn’t been completely right, there was something sort of delightful, knowing Richie had noticed enough to get his usual order down like that. All those mornings on the way to class, when Richie was scheduled and Eddie wasn’t. Busy with the regulars, and still managing to remember all those details.

Eddie could only wonder if Richie remembered them for all the same reasons.

“Hey, can I try?” Richie asked all of a sudden. “I’ve never had hazelnut before.”

“I thought you didn’t like espres-” Without warning, Richie’s head loomed down and close, and just when Eddie thought he might steal a sip from the straw, he shifted forward instead, slotting their lips together.

Richie’s mouth was cold from his frappe, and his breath tasted like mocha more than it tasted like caramel. Eddie blinked for a few endless seconds, heat creeping up into his ears and cheeks, until his friend and coworker finally slipped away - still bent at eye-level.

“Well hey,” Richie murmured, voice low as his dark eyes glinted behind his thick glasses. “Hazelnut tastes pretty good.”

Eddie shoved his hand up into Richie’s face, heart pounding as the idiot yelped and stumbled back. They calmed down just in time for the bell to tinkle over the door, and work and routine resumed in the little coffee shop once again.

Tagging: @princesass-theresa @r-u-reddie @stellarbisexual 

[the-magic-lava-lamp]

Caught Up In You

Chapter 1 - Hop To It

Summary: A story revolving around a group of teenage friends, their mishaps, their relationships and their coming of age. 

Watch as they navigate through the highs & lows of high school relationships and learn to grow up as most of them are approaching the end of their Senior year. 

Ships: SamBucky, ThorBruce, Stony, ValJane...(More ships & characters to come)

Word Count: 9,774

{Tuesday Night}

“-Stop screaming and turn left at the light.” Tony mumbled miserably in the passengers seat of his fathers car. He was trying desperately to sink into the material of the seat and ignore the horrid expression on his fathers face. It helped to rub his palm harder into his eyes, it earned him the fuzzy kind of vision that usually only got when he was drunk. The different kind of streetlights bled together and he could almost pretend he was in any other situation. 

“I’m not screaming. Trust me, you’d know the difference if I was-” 

His father paused just time to catch Tony mouthing those words along with him in a mocking gesture. 

He did one of those half-chuckles of disappointment and tightened his hands on the steering wheel. Tony wanted nothing more than to escape the scene entirely. It wasn’t fun to admit but he was highly embarrassed and angry with himself just the same as he was pissed at him. He shuffled in his chair and lifted his legs to tuck them under his body. His knees hit the door with a loud thump which sounded eerily close to an angry reaction and maybe it was. For a few painful seconds, it made the air even more awkward. 

That was a common thread pulled between them. Most of their fights now consisted of long, horrid silences that would only break when Tony decided he wanted to really make a scene. Sometimes it was on purpose and other times... a little more subconscious. 

“Don’t make this into a fit, Tony.” 

“I’m eighteen, Dad.” He spit. “I’m not having a fucking fit.” He dug into the bag at his feet and pulled it onto his lap. Logically, he could get out of the car so much faster if he could gather all of his crap ahead of the parking lot cruise. 

“You sure about that? Because to me, it looks as if my seventeen year old is pouting in my car even though he damn well could be driving his own car if he-”  

Tony leaned over and turned the radio back to F.M. to avoid conversation even further and block out whatever shit he was gonna say next. 

The car rolled to a complete stop at the next red-light. Tony’s head thumped softly against the headrest, nails dragging painfully hard into his lip. 

“You always said The cards would never do you wrong The trick you said Was never play the game too long...”

“I work Tony. This is a huge waste of my time-” He glanced at his son and waved a spare hand off the wheel, Tony ached to slap it. 

“Eyes on the road, dad. If we get into a car accident, that’d be on your head.” Tony pursed his lips and chuckled a little as he curled his body forward. “What would your co-workers think, huh?” He put on a scandalized voice and felt a little proud when his dad gripped the wheel harder. 

“-And you're still the same I caught up with you yesterday Moving game to game No one standing in your way...”

“You’re such a smart-mouth brat, Tony.” He scowled and Tony moved his eyes back towards his window. 

“Wonder where I get that from...” He rolled his eyes. 

“I want you out of my car right now.” He heard his father mumble mostly to himself but he couldn’t help but notice they’d slowly turned onto a quiet side-street. There weren’t many passing vehicles and an open sidewalk wasn’t far from his view.

“Fine.” Tony reached out and grabbed the passenger door handle and cracked it back, sending the thing flying outwards. He attempted to unbuckle but there wasn’t much more he could do to escape after his father swung his arm over his body and reached for the door handle. 

The car swerved but luckily the road was completely empty. The tires skidded, wind blew heavily and for a moment Tony thought he might actually fall out. But the car door banged closed next to him and made him jump as he recovered from sensory overload. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His father screamed as soon as he centered the car and pulled into the Theater parking lot. 

“There you stood Everybody watched you play I just turned and walked away I had nothing left to say...”

Tony swallowed and collected his bag. “That’s a load question, pop.” He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth and nodded. “See ya afterwards.” He gestured to the doors and didn’t stay to hear anymore. 

Tony fell out of the car and hightailed it inside, hoping he wasn’t edging it too close to late. 

He pushed the heavy doors and slid the stupid visor onto his head. The neon lights buzzed as he steadied his hands and regained his way of walking with purpose. He held firmly onto that argument though. There was no way that was leaving his mind anytime soon. 

The red concession stand counter glittered under the burning neon and he kept his eyes centered there just in case boss-man was around. 

He punched in, took a moment or two to calm down and went to his station. 

“Hey Tony, I re-stacked the candy tree thing cause some guy fell on it earlier which was amazing, you should’ve seen it-” His co-worker had a habit of appearing out of nowhere and scaring the absolute shit out of him. But he was slowly getting used to it. He leaned over to put his forearms on the counter and look right at Tony. “You havin’ a bad day or something?” 

Tony smacked his palms down onto the glossy counter and sighed. “Yeah. You could say that. Old man took my car away so I had to put up with his...” he gestured his hand out and let it fall “crap the whole way here.” 

“Well, I know something that’s gonna make you feel better.” He grinned and his grins were always unsettling. 

“What’s that, Bucky?” Tony mumbled, not that interested as he went to work on refilling some of the popcorn. 

Bucky merely tapped him on the shoulder and he glanced up just in time to see Steve Rogers strolling in, ticket in hand like always. The tiny red stub stuck out from his clutched fist and Bucky knew it was because Steve would lose it otherwise. 

Natasha strolled in at his side and threw a knowing smirk Bucky’s way. 

Tony’s expression suddenly changed from dim to flirty in a matter of seconds, he was good at that. “Steve Rogers. What chick-flick are you seeing today?” he smirked and went through the motions of preparing Steve’s usual order. 

Steve opened his mouth to answer but had to take a quick glance at his ticket to actually provide an answer. Natasha beat him to it anyway, maybe to save some embarrassment 

“Some spy movie.” she shrugged, taking the candy Bucky handed from over Tony’s shoulder. Steve wasn’t the only one who came in quite often though he was the most painfully obvious. “Steve here is really into the tight outfits.” She tilted her chin towards him and that earned her a gentle shove of his elbow and a blush. 

Tony ate that shit right up. “Kinky.” He threw him a wink and did the tiniest of hair flips that he could manage. His hair was getting pretty long and he had to admit to himself, it was really working for him. 

Steve took the bag of popcorn and tried hard not to keep eye contact, he was far too embarrassed now. “See ya after the movie, Tony.” 

He started to walk off, Natasha following close behind. 

“Steve!” Tony basically skipped over to the other side of the circular counter with the happiest of smirks. “Please try to keep the excitement about the outfits in your pants. Some of us have to clean up that theater when the credits roll.” He tilted his chin up and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip at the last word. 

Steve nearly slid on the smooth floor and his blush couldn’t get any deeper as he quickly sped off to the sound of Nat’s laughter. 

Tony lingered in that happy state for a few seconds, still on his tip-toes and his palms flat on the glitter again. But soon after the two disappeared into the theater hall, he fell back onto his flat shoes. 

“That cheer you up?” Bucky grinned, shoving some popcorn into his mouth and Tony rolled his eyes.

He threw his hands up in ‘I don’t even know’ kinda way and went back towards the cash register.  

“You don’t get it yet, do you?” His annoying friends voice came again while Tony thumbed through a magazine he kept under his customers eye-line. 

“Get what?” He asked, not interested at all. Smug Bastard was such a know-it-all. Bucky could tell just by his tone that Tony didn’t find any value in what he was about to say. There was nothing the ‘Great Tony Stark’ didn’t already get. It only spurred Bucky on though. 

“Steve.” He clicked his tongue. “The guy’s gotta a major crush on you.” 

That got him. Tony spun around completely and leaned backwards on the ledge. “No he fucking doesn’t.” He growled, not finding this the least bit funny. Bucky was a jerk who loved to torture him but he was far from being in the mood for it. Especially not with a topic like that. 

“Why do you think he comes in here like every day?” He gestured with his hand. 

“To see movies. I don’t know.” 

“Tony. I dare you to ask Steve anything about these movies that he’s been seeing. He literally doesn’t retain any information cause he doesn’t actually give a shit about them.” He pinched Tony’s arm and got a nice slap for it. “I’m his best friend, asshole. He tells me stuff.” He threw a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it with his mouth. “The only thing he gives a shit about is seeing the handsome brunette behind the counter...” He winked “Oh and his major crush.” he slapped Tony’s arm and walked past him. 

“He doesn’t have feelings for me...Steve’s a total-” He took in a breath “Jock. I’m not even on his radar of people he could sleep with.” He shook his head and Bucky rolled his eyes this time. 

“Believe it or not but Steve doesn’t get around as much as you think.” He chuckled. “And he’s got his eyes on you, idiot. And I know you got eyes for him.” 

Tony seemed more insulted by the word ‘idiot’ than Bucky’s assumption. It was laughable and one of the many reasons Bucky was amused yet annoyed by the dude. “Shut your mouth and get to work.” 

“You should take my advice and ask him out, Lord knows he won’t ask you. I landed an excellent fella so you can trust my advice.” He swirled the damp towel over the selection of stains littering the counter though it was hard to find them with the shadow of his stupid visor. 

“Ah, your allusive boyfriend.” Tony mumbled. 

“Don’t start with me, Stark.” 

“All I’m saying is...” He turned to his long hair co-worker. “I’ve never seen him. For such a swell guy-” He mocked Bucky’s outdated language habit. “He doesn’t ever come to visit you or for a quickie in the bathroom?” 

Bucky growled. “He comes when I’m working my Tony-free shift, I’ve told you. It works better for his schedule.” 

“Ah, that’s when he comes.” Tony put a dirty emphasis on the word. “So what I’m hearing is that you did have a quickie in the bathroom?” 

Bucky blushed and shoved past Tony to do some other odd job that didn’t really need to be done yet. 

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

{Wednesday Morning}

“-I told him to fuck off.” 

“No you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.” Bruce rubbed his hands together and followed Tony to his locker. His mind was still reeling from Tony’s dramatic story and he was desperately trying not to make it obvious that he was stealing long glances to the clocks. 

“No. But the trying to jump outta the car stuff is true.” Tony pursed his lips together and dug out his books. Bruce fell against the metal lockers and sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. “I didn’t get hurt, ok? But wouldn’t that have made him happy, huh?” 

Bruce gently thumped his hand atop Tony’s which was curled around the locker door. “He doesn’t want that, Tony. You know that.” He swallowed. “So what exactly led to that fight?” he was almost afraid to ask and it didn’t help when Tony physically cringed. 

“I went to a party, stayed past curfew...got drunk. The usual.” He shrugged like that was nothing and Bruce tried to remember that Tony didn’t respond well to rants about safety. 

“And what else?” There was more, it was obvious. 

Tony heaved a sigh and slammed the door closed when his Chemistry book slid free. “I came back home and...” he rubbed at his neck. “I was drunk so I was just saying shit to bother him cause he was yelling, right? Y’know I’m good at that.” the book slipped a little from his grip. “I told him that I was with some guys and I may have accidentally come out of the damn closet.” 

Bruce frowned. Tony had been struggling with that idea for a while now. 

“And he said he was taking my car away so I accused him of being homophobic as shit and that was the real reason he was punishing me.” Tony suddenly looked really pained. “But you should’ve seen his Goddamn face, Bruce. I was drunk and I still can’t get it out of my head. He was fumbling through an explanation about how wrong I was....” He shrugged and started walking down the hall again, Bruce following like a puppy. 

“Tony, I’m sure he was just shocked.” 

“Can you please just be on my side, Bruce?” Tony shook his head and Bruce sped up to his side. 

“I am on your side.” He scowled, fumbling with his hands again. “I’m just trying to be logical about this.” 

“No, you’re being hopeful. I know better cause he’s my dad. He wasn’t just shocked. He was pissed.” Tony growled and took off down the hall, leaving Bruce in the dust. 

He stepped slowly to follow but looked up at the nearest clock. 

“My brother is waiting for you in the library.”

“Jesus!” Bruce jumped in the air and nearly fell onto the glossy floor as he turned to face Loki. The greasy and terrifying man was smiling at him in that smirky way, hands behind his back.

 "He asked me to come collect you. But it seems you were busy with whatever Tony was bitching about.” He gestured gently to the open space where Tony had been. Bruce would roll his eyes if he weren’t so afraid of the man. “Tsk, tsk, Banner. You should take this tutoring gig more seriously.” 

And with that, Loki elegantly walked right past him. Just like any other time they’ve interacted (Which was like twice), Bruce took that time to shake his body free of the chills he’d acquired. 

He quickly made his way to the library. 

              Thor was sitting atop one of the long tables in the library, legs curled into the criss-cross position to keep his book still. His pen dashed furiously across the paper as he attempted to finish the load of homework he’d completely forgotten about until this morning. 

He glanced up just in time to catch a glimpse of Bruce strolling in and his heart momentarily stopped. He was in no mood to get scolded today and if he could just finish the last two problems before he came over, he just might make the day without it. And if he was lucky enough, Bruce might beam at him again. 

Last Thursday had been the best fucking day of Thor’s life. Valkyrie had switched lunches with him, Loki had managed to make it the full day without getting into trouble and Bruce had given him the biggest grin when he reported back with an B in Chemistry. 

“Hey-”

“Bruce!” Thor happily greeted him, already scooting over to give him some room. Bruce awkwardly hopped onto the table next to him with much more hesitance. 

“I told you, I don’t think we’re allowed to sit here-”

Thor shoved his pen behind his ear and showed off his work. He watched while Bruce momentarily forgot his hang-up and slipped his glasses on to look over the papers. “This is good work, Thor. You’ve really improved. I told you that it was only a matter of time.” Bruce pulled back and wiggled the book in front of him. 

“Thanks...” Thor had come into this session with one goal and just because of one compliment, he was flustered into forgetting. He beamed back at Bruce and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t totally used to being on the other end of this. “But um...Y’know, I’m still struggling with uh-Math. So, I came back to the idea that it might be beneficial if I had the ability to contact you outside of school. Just to um, help y’know?” 

Thor tried his best not to embarrass himself but was finding it mighty difficult with Bruce staring up at him like a little puppy. 

“So, about that phone number-” 

Bruce swallowed and started playing with his hands. “I told you, I don’t know about that.” He shrugged and faded that off with a nervous chuckle. But upon seeing the way Thor’s face fell, he rushed to explain again. “This isn’t because I don’t like you, Thor. It’s just...we’re good like this, right?” He pushed his glasses back up his nose and gestured at the books between them. 

Thor nodded back, licking his lips. “Yes, of course we are.” He quickly put the smile back on his face and it wasn’t even a chore. Anytime he spent with Bruce was special to him. He wasn’t about to ruin that. He scooted closer and found that his buddy moved in as well, their laps now supporting the open Math book.

This was fine.  

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

Valkyrie was having a pretty shitty day and the sight of a pouty looking Thor was going to be no help unless his problem was more interesting than her test crisis coming next period. She threw him a smile and leaned on her locker. “What’s the matter with you, big guy?” She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. Thor looked embarrassed which wasn’t such a common trait for him. “Is it Bruce again?” 

He deflated. “No.” 

“Convincing.” She shrugged and turned back to grab some of her junk, arm sliding painfully against some metal. “When are you going to tell him that you don’t actually need the tutoring?” 

Thor shrugged and that was answer enough. 

“How long have you known him Thor?” 

Her friend paused and shifted on his feet. “Basically since first grade but we only sort of became closer friends during Sophomore year.” 

She hummed. “I’ve only known him since the summer so I can’t give you much that you don’t already know, bud.” She shrugged. “But either he’s interested or he’s not...” She glanced over Thor’s shoulder as she thought on it. “I know Bruce is a little off-beat and...not the best at making decisions or voicing his entire opinion...and his crippling fear doesn’t help that....” 

her tongue clicked and Thor jumped like a man half his size. 

“Am I just freaking you out now?” 

“No....” 

She stared him down. 

“Ok, a little bit-actually-yes you are. A lot.” 

“Ooof.” Valkyrie smacked her palms together and slammed her locker door shut. “Maybe you shouldn’t come to me for advice then, huh?” She shook her head and began to try and walk off. 

She’d met Bruce over the Summer just before the big Senior year. He’d been working at her favorite, favorite Diner in town. It was one of the few Drive-In places left and man oh man, the burgers. Valkyrie licked her lips. 

Bruce new her order by heart within his first few days there and could have it whipped up in no-time if he knew she was coming. So she’d given him her phone number just for that purpose. Which, Bruce was incredibly reluctant and all twitchy about it until she clarified that she didn’t give a shit about anything other than just getting her burger a bit quicker. 

Somehow, Bruce just became her good buddy and through him, she met Thor just a couple days before school started. He was one of the few guys in Bruce’s ‘group’ that he introduced to her because; ‘I think you’d get along great with him! You actually remind me a bit of him.’

“Wait!” Thor suddenly came up next to her again and it was her turn to jump. 

“Shit, you scared the hell outta me!” She smacked his arm, hard. But Thor didn’t seem to mind at all. 

“I forgot the good news!” 

Disinterested again, she shoved one of her ear-buds into her ear and waited. “That scares me. What is it?” 

“I set up a date for you-” He held up a gentle hand when she opened her mouth with a grunt. “I know, I know-that last one kinda suck BUT...” He flashed a very charming grin. “I know the perfect girl and I know you’ll love her. I’m really excited about it.” He patted her gently on the shoulder and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t smooth a little at that last part. 

“What’s her name?”

“Jane. Jane Foster. She’s one of the smartest people I know and surprisingly strong-she slapped me this one time and it stung for like-” 

“Why did she slap you?” Valkyrie raised a brow but was getting an idea of how Thor might know this girl. 

“Well...” He scratched behind his neck and looked off at the posters behind her head. She kicked his shin. “Ow! Ok ok, she might be my ex-girlfriend.” 

Valkyrie sped up but he only chased her down again. 

“Wait! Valkyrie, trust me, Jane’s amazing. A good match for you, I think.” He waved his hand out and she shifted her weight to the other foot. 

“You’re asking me to trust your taste in woman?” 

Thor shrugged, puppy-dog eyes and all which had her blowing air between her gritted teeth. 

“Fine. Send me the details, you big sap.” With a roll of her eyes, she finally took off for class. 

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

{Friday Night}

“I think he had a fight with his old man or something. It doesn’t feel right to tell you this.” Bucky shook his head and stared at Tony from over Steve’s shoulder. The boy was curled over the ticket booth with the most miserable expression on his face. He’d had that same dead look since their last shift together on Tuesday. Plus, ticket service sucked so that probably wasn’t helping him any. 

Steve hummed into his palm and slid a couple bucks over the counter for his usual movie snack. Bucky thumbed with it a little and danced his fingers across the green. “Do you think...?-” His friend trailed off and he tried not to roll his eyes but it was getting way too difficult these days when it came to this dramatic bullshit. 

“That he likes you?” He whistled, throwing a red cup into the air. It flipped against the glaring yellow lights and landed perfectly in his hand. Cola spilled effortlessly from the machine and bounced a little of the lip of the cup, Bucky licked it off his finger. “Yeah. He does. And I know this because he’s so fucking obvious and basically told me so.” 

Steve’s eyes lit up like they always did at the idea but there was no follow-through of belief. Just sadness. Damn. 

“Well from what I gathered from you, Tony hates you.” Steve started and Bucky nodded. 

“And I hate him too.” he snapped his fingers over his shoulder and shoveled popcorn with his spare. 

“-So I doubt that he talks to you about feelings.” 

“You’re right, he doesn’t. But-” He poked the tiny metal shovel into his friends cheek, giving him a impermanent dimple. “He doesn’t explicitly have to. It’s all on his face every-time you come in. Which, is so damn obvious too Steve, you have no idea.” 

“If it’s so obvious than Tony must have picked up on it and he hasn’t made a move sooooo....” 

“Now you’re just being difficult which I hate so...” He wiggled his hand out. “Go see your stupid movie.” He turned away only to have Steve reached out and pull him back. 

“Has he said anything about me?” 

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky would slap Steve if he wasn’t his best friend-’actually.’ 

Bucky reached out and gently slapped him. “Here, this shouldn’t be too difficult even for a punk like you.” He ignored the fake hurt puppy look and slammed a pen and napkin down onto the glittery counter. “Phone number goes there.” He pointed. “And you can slip it to him on your way to the movie room.” 

Steve sighed and rubbed his palm down to his chin. 

“Hop to it, soldier.” He winked and turned on his best friend. 

There was some shuffling and lingering as far as Bucky could guess from his hearing. He heard the pen drag across the flaky napkin and then footsteps. For a moment, he let himself celebrate a victory. 

He turned on his heels only to find the napkin still sitting on the counter. It was decorated with a small drawing of Bucky standing next to the popcorn machine which was overflowing, sending the snack everywhere. Little pieces of Steve’s hand-drawn popcorn fluff littered the paper and Bucky felt like a fool for believing Steve would actually go for it. 

He scoffed and shoved the paper into his pocket before going back to work.

And he made it through about 17 flawless minutes of restocking the candy shelves when he felt Tony’s presence at the head of the counter. “Hey asshole. What do you want?” He mumbled, scooting a bit on the glossy floor so he could look at him. 

Tony was slouching over the red strip of glittery hell, forearms pressing heavily into the counter and wearing a painfully obvious look of drowsiness. His visor was in his hand rather than burrowed somewhere in his flippy hair. That was Del Costa’s least favorite thing to see of his employees, not that either of them took that to heart. Del was a grumpy little old man with soft eyes for a few employees which just happened to include them. 

“I’m gonna walk out the door, right now. I swear to God.” He rubbed his face and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“You go ahead and do that. Dare ya.” He scoffed and stood to continue his busy work. They were having an very slow Friday night and he blamed the shitty movies that were currently out. That and the fact that the place was tiny and not too far from a much larger theater that was in the next town over. 

“I would and you know it.” 

Bucky shrugged. “I honestly don’t care and it’d probably make my life a lot easier if you weren’t here so...” He waved his hand towards the double doors and gave him a smug smile and Tony immediately responded by throwing his visor at him. “Why are you so miserable anyway? It’d drag me down if I wasn’t in such a good mood.” He emphasized that just to rub it in a little before lifting Tony’s arms to swipe the cleaning rag under him. 

He held Tony’s arms at the wrists and scrubbed the counter which didn’t even seem to bother him. Instead, Tony went completely boneless and allowed the action with ease. “What’s with that good mood anyway, Hot Topic? It’s freakin’ me out.” He wiggled his fingers and Bucky dropped his hands, they slammed down. 

“I can’t just be in a good mood?” He rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve literally never seen you smile the entire time that I’ve known you, and you’ve done it at least ten times today.” Tony pursed his lips in thought. 

“Get back to work before Mr. Costa sees you.” Bucky tipped his chin towards the incoming group of customers and Tony sighed dramatically. 

“Whatever. I’ll get it out of you sooner or later.” He threw a wink and wandered off, the picture of misery. That was of course until he hit the half-way mark and turned on a flirty smile. If Tony was in the mood for it, he could really play the part of a happy worker well. Even if he was just about quit. Bucky could never even attempt that. Hiding his irritation was one of his weakest points these days. 

                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, you weren’t at your post. Bucky said you were....” Steve paused mid-sentence as he came down the concrete steps. His index finger was lazily slipped into the small bag of popcorn which he had to admit was a bad idea. 

His finger was greased, making his skin filmy and liable to have something slip through. When Tony flung his head his way, Steve suddenly plunged his finger deeper inside like the crisis of spilled popcorn was the most important thing in the world right now.  

Tony was gripping his phone with such intensity that his fingers were curling over the screen and it almost looked as if he were trying to crush the damn thing. “Hey, something I can do for you?” he scratched behind his ear and looked frazzled. Which, in truth, wasn’t that uncommon. 

The flashy lights from the gigantic sign were reflecting nicely into Tony’s warm brown eyes and Steve found himself frazzled now. Tony moved, coming to lean on the blue railing just a few steps down from him. This was the moment that he realized Tony had changed out of his work shirt and was sporting his regular work jeans but with a band t-shirt that was...-'For the love of all that is good and pure in this world, it’s cropped’ and in that lazy casual way that made him want to tilt his head for a better look.  

‘Never seen that much of his skin before...God, was that a dumb thought’. Steve would kick himself if he weren’t standing right there. He’d never seen Tony in a get-up like that before. Not that he stereotyped him but Tony was quite the little...nerd. 

“Chicks dig it.” Tony wiggled his eyebrows and Steve rolled his eyes out of habit. “I spilled-no, your friend ‘spilled’ a large soda on me like ten minutes before my shift ended.” He scowled, looking back towards the building over Steve’s shoulder. The retro blue and red lighting now framing his jawline. “So how was your movie?” 

Tony topped that off with one of those closed mouth smiles that made Steve’s knees weak. 

“Good, good.” he mumbled. “A little much but...that’s kinda what every movie is like these days.” The shrug rolled off his shoulders like 2nd nature. 

“You don’t seem to be that picky these days. You come in just about every other day.” Tony chuckled and swiped his hand under his nose just as fast as the chill that passed through the air. “Your film of choice this time was one of those action flicks. The saucy criminal couple running from the cops and having the best sex of their lives....gotta love it.” His grin widened and Steve was far too nervous. 

“Yeah. There was a surprising amount of layers to it though-”

Tony snorted but he ignored it. 

“Really. The main girl, Natalie, had this whole side story-line about her broken family. It was actually done very well. There was this one scene that-” He felt a tangent coming on but was shortly interrupted by Tony shoving his hands into his pockets.  

“You must’ve really enjoyed it then, huh? You gonna spare me the details?” The skin around the bridge of his nose crinkled with that snide comment. 

Steve bit his lip, not sure what he’d said wrong. 

“I forgot my jacket. But I’ll see ya next time?” He thumped Steve’s shoulder and jogged back into the theater, leaving him confused and with a lot to think about on his ride home. 

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~

“-I thought you said that he doesn’t really watch these movies?” Tony shot up, completely out of nowhere. Bucky would have jumped if he weren’t used to that shit. 

Again with the eye-rolling but he couldn’t help it. “He doesn’t.”

“Well, he was basically spoiling the entire plot of this movie that he really seemed enthused about watching.” Tony shrugged, like he knew it was a stupid thing to complain about and was already embarrassed about it. 

"His whole world isn’t about you, Tony. He just came out of the theater so of course he’s talking about it. Steve likes to share-and hey, where’s the rest of your shirt?” Bucky teased as he turned to find the guy’s midriff exposed more so than usual. 

Tony looked less than impressed and turned away, eyes drifting towards the glass doors where he could spot Steve’s car driving off. A sigh escaped his lips and Bucky wanted to scream. 

“Did I ruin that good mood?” he edged off into a new subject and Bucky would be glad for it if the new one didn’t involve himself. 

“No.” Was all he intended to say but Tony very clearly wouldn’t be letting it go any time soon. He should have left around twenty minutes ago but here he was, leaning up against the counter like a patient customer. Damn, they needed more of those these days. 

“Come on, tell Daddy what it is.” He wiggled his fingers for a few seconds and his shadow glazed over the counter. 

“I hate that nickname.” He scowled. Tony had been using that for nearly his entire work career at the Horizon Theater and he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t slipped out of his mouth a few times just from hearing it so often. “And please leave before Mr. Costa kicks you out.” 

Tony only gave him a pleading look. 

“Fuck you.” He chuckled because although he was irritated, he’d been dying to tell someone about this all day. He licked his lips and turned his chin down to the counter to stare at the individual glitter pieces behind the glass. “Um...-” shoving some hair behind his ear, he tried not to get embarrassed. “My boyfriend told me he loved me today.” The tone he used was very clearly trying way too hard to come across as indifferent. But his heart was pounding when he thought about it again. 

Tony stepped back, looking impressed. “Wow. Big step.” He nodded but added a small frown. 

“Oh you’re jealous, huh?” Bucky was going to seize anything that would turn the attention off himself.

“Why would I be jealous of your imaginary relationship, Barnes?” 

Bucky slapped his arm but before the fight could really start- 

“Boys!” 

They both jumped this time and from their far right, Mr. Costa strolled over with a large smile. He was a tiny old man who almost looked like he was being swallowed by the dark hallway. He opened his arms and slapped a hand onto Tony’s back. “Why are you still in my theater?” 

“Well I was just-” He lifted his hand only to have Mr. Costa lower it for him.

“You’re off the clock, go home and leave my worker alone, huh?” He grinned with genuine cheer and Tony sighed but turned to leave. 

But not without giving Bucky the finger and yelling a loud goodbye to both of them. Mr. Costa waved back and leaned his bent elbow on the counter. “So, how are we doing today?” 

Bucky rolled his lips together. “Fairly well. Better than last Friday. It’s a real gas here tonight.” He tipped his chin to the small crowd of teens leaving theater 1.

He was rewarded with the nod of acceptance that Mr. Costa was the best at giving. Bucky took in the fact that he was making casual conversation. “Not here to bust my chops, huh sir? What’s your ulterior motive?” He asked, refilling the tiny cup of soda he was allowed. 

“Bust my chops...” He repeated with a shake of his head. “That’s why I like ya, son. Talk just like me.” His hand swiped down his mouth and Bucky grinned. “You tell your little friends about that deal we’re offering soon-on the tickets?” 

Bucky’s shoulders dropped just the slightest at Del’s soft tone. “Yeah-yeah I did, sir. I spread the word.” He took a long sip of the fizzy, burning pop. “I’m sure business will be booming soon.” 

Del Costa nodded once more and gently laid a hand atop Bucky’s before he wandered off, mumbling to himself about the things he had to remember. As he headed over to where the ticket guys were, Bucky let out a long breath. 

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

{Monday Morning} 

“I honestly just don’t get it.” 

Loki quirked his brow from over Thor’s shoulder and if he wasn’t so happy that his brother was enjoying his company at school for the first time in ages, Thor might’ve shoved his elbow into his stomach. 

What he actually did was groan as he turned to his locker once more. 

“I’m just saying...that guy, really?” Loki pointed with his chin to where Bruce was chatting happily with Valkyrie. He seemed rather enthusiastic as he made some explosive gesture that almost had him fall backwards. He had such a habit of stumbling over his own feet...

Thor grinned impossibly wide. “Yes.” 

“Why?-You know what actually never-mind-” 

Though Loki had changed his mind and was already starting to walk off because he remembered exactly the type of person his brother was, Thor launched into it. “He’s the most...genuine person that I’ve ever known.” His voice turned small and earnest. “He always gives me the best advice, he’s so smart and.....” 

Thor trailed off as Bruce made another gesture that had him bouncing like an excitable puppy. Instead of finishing his sentence, Thor just threw Loki another grin and happily bounded over to his friends. 

Valkyrie smiled at the way Bruce perked up with the added company. “Hey, big guy.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Loki was lingering. Looking a little awkward as he hovered. “What’s up, moody?” She reached over to smack the dude’s arm. 

Loki rolled his eyes but didn’t miss the way Thor’s lit up at the idea of him getting along with his little friend-group. He gave the girl a small smile though he wasn’t entirely sure he could pull off the friendly kind. 

“I’m gonna grab my books from my locker-” Valkyrie tried to throw Loki a hint to make himself scarce as well so the two idiots might have a shot in explaining their feelings. But she wasn’t sure he’d care that much. 

She was about to push past him when Bruce grabbed her arm excitedly. “Hey! Wait, you gotta tell Thor the good news!” 

“Ooooh, what is it?” 

‘Oh, if they only knew what she was trying to give them’. She frowned, letting her arms fall limply in front of her as she reluctantly turned. “It’s nothing. Now if you don’t mind-wait a minute-I don’t care if you mind. I’m leaving-” 

Valkyrie tried to escape again only to have Thor reach out for arm again. 

“Oh come on, you have to tell me now.” Thor demanded and she decided she might as well give up. 

Valkyrie turned and gave Bruce a heated glare before she spoke again. “I had my date with Jane on Friday-” 

Thor lit up. “Oh yes, yes. How did it go?” He gently pat her arms. 

She must’ve accidentally let a smile through there because Thor looked positively excited as he shook her arms. “Good. Great-” She rolled her eyes when the blonde lit up again. “It was fine. Now I’m gonna go-” 

“Wait! Tell him the best part!” Bruce slapped her arm lightly. 

She sighed and collected herself to look at Thor’s happy little face. “We’ve got a second date-But, don’t let this go to your head. I don’t want you thinking you’re the perfect matchmaker.” She shook her finger in his face. 

“But I so obviously am the best.” Thor dropped her arms and spread his own out with a wide grin. She tried not to laugh at the way Loki stepped back to avoid getting hit like it was second nature to him. “I told you that Jane was great for you!” 

Valkyrie pursed her lips. “Uh-huh, you also set me up on four other dates that were...” She wiggled her palm “Not the best.” 

“Well, I was just excited.” He shrugged. “Fifth times a charm, huh?” He reached out once more but she only threw him one last smirk before taking off down the hall. She may or may not be on her way to find Jane’s locker. 

Once she was off, Loki decided that he was done as well and glided away with that elegance of his. 

The air softened from the noisy laughs of their classmates nearby and was suddenly very quiet. Thor spun on his heels to face his much tinier friend but found himself (yet again) extremely and uncommonly nervous. Bruce, though small and nowhere near intimidating, could send him into such a dazed state. 

The light above Mr. Hammonds English class door was flickering as it always would. It shined in Bruce’s eyes each time it caught on again. 

“What-um...what’s your first period again?” Bruce did that nervous tick again (the scratch behind his ear) and bounced his weight from leg to leg. 

“Astronomy.” Thor grinned just thinking about that class. It never failed to keep him interested. “-We just had this whole project about whether we believed in life outside of Earth...” He shoved his hands into his pockets to avoid making more large gestures but the smile was just going to stay-put. “We got assigned a side that we had to defend, right? So luckily, I got the correct side.” 

Bruce nodded, happily listening though he hadn’t really asked for all this information. “That there is life?” 

“Yes, of course. Don’t you think so?”

“Yeah-Yes, I do.” Bruce shrugged. “There’s no way that we’re alone in the universe, that’d be a very...ignorant way of thinking.” He pushed his little glasses up the bridge of his nose. This had been one of his late night discussion topics with Tony just some weeks ago when he’d stayed the night to work on some designs for his father’s company. 

Thor’s smile got brighter which didn’t seem possible. But Bruce only loosened his own smile to a very-near frown. 

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that, Thor.”

That sentence stunned the blonde for a moment. “What’s wrong with the way I look at you?” 

Bruce blushed though he tried to hide it. “It’s like...-” He took in some air. “I dunno...like you got real feelings...” ‘For me’ was implied but Thor knew Bruce well enough by now to know that he was far too embarrassed to say something like that.

“I do. Have I not made my feelings clear enough?” He was genuinely baffled. Thor made no attempt to hide anything he felt. He’d asked Bruce multiple times to hang-out past school, complimented him, and tried to get his number at least four times now. 

“I know that you-...well, I know you’ve said that you...” Bruce sighed, tilting his chin up to Mr. Hammonds light. “Might wanna ‘hang-out’ but...I don’t think that’s the type of thing I’m cut out for.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I just mean...a relationship with you-which isn’t an insult Thor. I would never say something to hurt you.” Bruce quickly rushed over to pat the guy’s chest. He could be so oddly touchy-feely without noticing even when discussing something like this. “We just don’t...-We’re very different people.” 

Thor licked his lips and nodded. “I think we’re more similar than you think. Like all the times we get sidetracked in conversation when you help me study. During tutoring? And we’ve become so...in sync. You really helped me out when I was having my family issues, we don’t mind when the other goes off a long ramble about a topic, we make each other laugh....and even Loki likes you, not that he’d say so-” 

“He does?” 

“Oh yeah, he said that you amuse him. Which, is a compliment for Loki at least.” Thor shrugged. “Anyway, I think that if you gave me a shot, you might feel something?” He pawed at his hands as his nerves rose from his stomach to his chest. 

“I dunno, Thor-” 

“That’s ok. You don’t have to say yes. You don’t even have to give me an answer at all. I reassure you, I’m fine with just friends as long as I get to be around you.” Thor gently pat down on Bruce’s shoulder. 

Bruce looked down at Thor’s hand and became lost in his own head. Overthinking. He was especially good at that. 

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

{Monday Night} 

Bucky was being particularly insufferable. Tony was doing his best to give the guy the benefit of the doubt because he’d done his fair share on the other side. And Bucky may have complained but he always allowed Tony to have his little rants and such. 

But Bucky was just parading around with the hardest looking frown that Tony had ever seen. It was very scary when a customer approached he just switched the damn thing to a bright grin with such speed that it knocked the wind outta Tony. 

Plus, Bucky could be a little destructive when he was angry though he suspected it wasn’t totally on purpose. It just seemed to be on those kinda days where the guy would run into displays and knock them over. His mumbled swears could be heard from the other side of the counter but almost nowhere else in the place. Just his luck. 

“Hey, what’s the matter with you?” Tony gently pinched his arm only to get slapped away. 

“Nothing just-Oh shit. No way.” Bucky’s eyes widened as he raised his arms in mock defeat. Tony stepped back and craned his neck to see what the guy was so suddenly worked up about. 

Walking up to the counter was a harmless looking guy around their age with a smirk on his face. “Hey, Buck.” 

“I’m don’t have the strength for this guy today. Nope. Tony, you take care of him.” Bucky shook his head and turned away. Honestly, Tony sprinted to the counter because he’d had enough of angry Bucky today. 

As Tony rung up the guy’s choice of two hot-dogs, he and Bucky seemed to communicate over his shoulders. He could tell by the way the man lazily shot up the finger with a glowing smirk. Bucky’s groan was loud and full. 

Tony wanted to get in the middle of the drama immediately, planning to bother Bucky about it as soon as the dude left. 

The guy collected his little paper trays of greasy food but instead of walking off to either of the hallways of theater rooms, he smoothly glided around the red counter. He kept a dog in hand but slid the other across the glitter to Bucky’s waiting hand. 

Tony couldn’t help but wave his hand with confusion from his place far across the wide circled counter. 

The brunette smiled, the first genuine kind of the day, and mumbled a thank you that was kinda muffled against the other guy’s cheek in a greeting kiss. 

“Well I’ll be Damned! You weren’t lying.” Tony chuckled but he was either too far away or the two idiots were too far off in their own land. He suspected it was the second because the counter was nowhere near that large plus he could delightfully hear everything they said, if he listened carefully. 

“I’m picking you up after work today at nine, right?” 

Bucky nodded with a small hum as his mouth curled around the hot-dog. The guy watched Tony’s co-worker with an amused yet maybe aroused kind of smile. “Seriously, this is hot to you, Sam?” Bucky chuckled, swallowing his mouthful before sticking his finger in his mouth and sliding it back out with a pop. 

Sam licked his lips but rolled his eyes. “You’re an asshole, you know that right?” 

Bucky nodded and gently smacked Sam’s cheek. “You love it. Where are we going?” 

Sam took a quick bite of his food and looked off towards the front doors. “That is for me to know and for you to find out later.” The comment ended with him poking his finger into Bucky’s arm. 

Tony hadn’t ever seen his co-worker so ok with being touchy-feely. In fact, he seemed more than just ok with it.

Bucky wasn’t even hesitant about snatching Sam’s hands away from his hot-dog and curling their fingers together, elbows resting on the counter as they swayed. “So you don’t know what we’re doing, that’s what you mean. Right?” 

An annoyed sigh broke free from his partners mouth. “I have plans. I always have plans. You’re the one who just makes date night up as you go along.” He pointed one of his fingers to the best of his ability with Bucky’s gripped nearby. 

Sam pulled away slightly but gave Bucky’s hands one more playful squeeze. “Anyway, I gotta go but I’ll see you later. Love ya, B.” He quickly gave Bucky a kiss on the cheek and started to let go his hands. 

“Love you too.” Bucky’s response was far more mumbled and shy than Sam’s. Tony figured that he might even be blushing from the way he tried to linger their grip as Sam took off with his own hot-dog. 

With Sam gone, Tony slid his way over with the biggest smirk. 

“Shut-up, Tony.” 

“I haven’t even said anything.” 

“Keep it that way.” Bucky shoved past him and began his routine with the broken butter dispenser. It had been funny for the first half of their shift but now it was just sad. 

“That’s pointless and you know it.” Tony rolled his eyes and shoved Bucky away with his hip and finally got his hands on the machine. “Listen, I won’t say much but...that soft little ‘I love you’ was a new side of cute for you.” 

Bucky growled. “Stop talking.” 

“Are you embarrassed?” Tony teased, turning around to face him. “What was with that stunt show, anyway? I thought you hated the guy when he walked in. You managed to fool even me.” His arms crossed. 

“It’s just something we do.” Bucky shrugged, not knowing how else to explain it. The thing he had with Sam was so unlike any other relationship he’d ever experienced and he’d like to keep the details to himself. So, he would just have to do what he does best. Which was deal with his annoying co-worker in the only way possible, shift the attention away from himself and onto Tony. 

“You’re just jealous cause you’re alone and sad.” He mocked a pout and flipped one of the flimsy red & gold cups in the air. “-And don’t you dare get all mopey about it cause you sure as hell could do something about it but you don’t.” He spoke just before Tony could open his mouth to complain and smacked the cup mid-air to whack him. 

The empty theater memorabilia bounced off his head and thumped against the glossy floor with a satisfying hollow pop. 

Tony didn’t seem to have any more energy left as he stared at it for a solid thirty seconds of silence before walking off. Defeat caved his back in slightly and slouched his stance as he went off to bother someone else. 

Bucky felt conflicted but decided to look forward to his own date night rather than take on Tony’s issue just yet.

                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony was equal parts excited and horribly confused when Bruce Banner rolled into the theater, alone and on a Monday night. His brows shot into the air and hid behind his falling strands of brunette hair. 

Bruce approached with slow caution and with his usual confused expression. “I thought you didn’t work Monday nights?” 

“I always work Monday nights, genius.” Tony chuckled and fiddled with his fingers. 

“Oh shit.” Bruce smacked his forehead and began to rub his fingers against it with intensity.  

“Woah, woah-buddy.” Tony wagged his hands around. “Why were you trying to avoid me? Is it about our last conversation because I’ve been meaning to talk to you-” 

“No, no. It’s not that, Tony!” He interrupted his friend with a genuinely kind grin. “You know that you can always talk to me about your problems with your dad, right? I didn’t mean to make you think that I was on ‘his side’. I was just trying-” 

Tony felt that familiar rush of embarrassment that came with talking openly about his problems but he smiled. “I know, Bruce-baby.” He reached out to pinch his cheek and got smacked away. Bruce’s face begged him to actually be serious. “I know. I’m thankful.” The tiny towel flung with his hand gestures. 

“Anyway, I’m surprised that you left your house. Why is Bruce Banner showing up to the theater? And alone?” 

Bruce opened his mouth but never got the chance to speak because a happy looking blonde darted up behind him from the direction of the ticket stand. 

‘Thor?’

“Thor?” Tony was beyond confused now and Bruce had taken to hiding his face in his hands when the blonde bounded over. 

“Stark!” Thor tipped his chin in greeting. 

Tony had basically known the same group of guys since he was little. First grade was when he palled around with Bruce, Thor, Clint, Natasha and Steve. They were each others ‘classroom’ friends. 

Tony had Rhodey, who was his best friend that got put into a different class.

Steve talked about his best friend Bucky nearly every day who had tragically gone to a different school. 

Thor used to just talk to everybody. 

Clint & Natasha had been the only two ‘real’ friends in that group. They were scary. Like twins. Tony got chills just thinking about it. 

Since the 1st grade, they had all just grown-up around each other & in the same schools. Some stayed kinda close and others didn’t. Tony wasn’t bitter about any of it, not at all. 

He had not been aware that Bruce was even regularly speaking to Thor again. 

“Oh wow.” He blinked slowly and habitually started preparing the usual snacks ordered by their customers. Two sodas and a large popcorn. “What are the two of you doing here tonight?” He attempted to throw Bruce an amused look but the guy was too embarrassed to make eye contact. 

“We’re on a date!” 

Tony nearly choked. 

Thor’s voice was laced with excitement until he glanced down at his partner. “Unless...you didn’t want to call it that-because then of course, we’re just hanging out or..?-” 

Bruce tried to be subtle about the way he tugged gently on Thor’s sleeve but Tony was just able to catch it. “No-um....yes-yeah.” Bruce struggled through his words at first but finally glanced up. “We’re on a date.” 

Tony would literally applaud Bruce on his ability to overcome his habit of anxiety over such things but he didn’t think Bruce would like that very much. 

“Why don’t you go get our seats and I’ll bring back the snacks?” Bruce tugged on Thor’s sleeve again and the big dork nodded, patting his friends arm as he left. 

When the blonde was a good distance away, Tony leaned over and shook his friend by the shoulders. “Look at you! Wow. I’m so proud...yet so...” He leaned back with his arms crossed “Jealous.” 

His friend blushed and slapped his hand against his cheek to cover it. 

“And not to mention, confused?” He added. 

“I’ve been tutoring Thor.” Bruce tried to clarify. “Since the end of Junior year.” 

“Why didn’t I know this?” 

“I don’t know! I just didn’t...-I...” He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal but then Thor...” He looked in the direction the guy took off in. “Well, he’s expressed an interest in...me?” 

“Don’t sound so confused Bruce. You’re a catch.” Tony winked but tried to get his point across with honesty. “I can’t say this hasn’t completely thrown me off but don’t sell yourself short. You’re a great guy. Hell, I would’ve dated you Freshman year if you asked.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stole a piece of popcorn from the container Tony slid over. “That’d be a disastrous relationship.” He chuckled and Tony pretended he was offended. “I just don’t know.” Bruce laid his chin in his hand and sighed. 

“You’re on a date with a wonderful, blonde, jock. who seems to really like you. Just enjoy it.” Tony thought it best not to let his bitterness drip into his tone at all.

Bruce shrugged.  “How are you doing?” 

‘Typical of him to switch subjects’. Tony didn’t feel like masquerading with dramatics, so he gave an honest sigh. “It is what it is, Bruce. The old man...” His sentence faded into a far off thought while his hand hung loosely in the air. “Will be here to pick me up after my shift and for the first time in a long time...I don’t even feel like gettin’ his goat. I’m too tired to argue tonight.” 

Bruce’s face suggested that he wanted to talk some more but it also expressed a loud eagerness to return to Thor. So, Tony shoved the snacks over and cracked a small smile. 

“Enjoy your date.” 

Bruce wandered off with a mixture of emotions brewing but that was nothing new. ‘God, just hope the guy lets go and has some fun.’ Tony wished Bruce well but couldn’t help but feel hopelessly jealous that everyone seemed to be getting into a relationship but him. 

The blonde jock that he had his eyes on was never going to make a move. 

Life sucked. 

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 26: principles, paint fumes, and pasta

Tuesday, November 6th, 1990

The first thing I’m aware of before I even open my eyes is that this isn’t my bed. Oh. Right.

The next piece of information I can register is that my shoulder’s killing me. With a big sigh, I try to shift to alleviate the pressure, but then it dawns on me that there’s a reason I can’t move my arm. A very good reason, a redheaded reason who’s curled up against me, facing away, whose bed it is, and who miraculously didn’t wake up when I did. What’s a little dislocated ball and socket joint between friends? ...or whatever we’re calling ourselves now... No, friends, definitely still friends. I need to remember that it’s important to just be Cora’s friend right now. And anyway, it wouldn’t be very friendly of me to wake her up, right? She puts on a brave show but she’s still pretty sick, and I ought to let her get as much rest as she needs. So I hold still and try to ignore my aching shoulder.

Purely selfless of me, of course. Has nothing to do with wanting to stay this close to her for as long as possible, or how good her hair smells in a pile right below my face, or the fact that her bed is way more comfortable than it has any right to be, or the fact that she’s not wearing pants… it’s all very innocent, of course, she just insisted after a while that she couldn’t handle her sweatpants for another second and tugged them off under the covers before falling asleep on me… I'd like to be able to say that I put up a valiant, principled struggle against her pantslessness, but really, who would believe that?

I really missed this. I’ve never exactly been a big fan of sleeping with someone, actually sleeping -- relationship or no relationship, I’ve always needed a healthy minimum amount of personal space -- but everything’s different with Cora, and I’ve really missed this. I know it was only a few nights ago that she came over, but it feels like I’ve been experiencing the passage of time in dog years, like it’s been less than a week for normal humans but somehow over a month for me. Trying to undo the damage of our last fight was hard enough, and now realistically I know that she’s gonna be reeling from this breakup for a long time and that I need to give her as much space as possible and just kinda let her handle it on her own, in her own way… but it’s difficult not to focus on the fact that she’s single now. Maybe there won’t be quite as much drama involved in being honest with her about my feelings now that Alex is gone. Maybe this is actually a good time to try and tell her how much I still want to be with her.

Or maybe I’m just being incredibly selfish, and the last thing she needs is another person she trusts moving the goalposts on her, and that's the exact opposite of the whole friend thing I'm trying to do here. A fresh wave of regret washes over me as I remember how dismissive I was of her guilt on Friday morning. I’m starting to understand where that guilt came from. God, I really need to get out of here.

What time is it, anyway? She’s sleeping on my watch arm, and the room’s dark enough that I couldn’t find a clock even if I knew where she kept one… but the fact that her window is pitch black is more than enough information. We were supposed to just take a short nap, but we obviously overslept. Lucy’s supposed to get back here after she’s done with work, and who knows what the hell her opinion of my situation with Cora is. I’d rather wear Mark’s spangly, silver, unwashed, fish-stained leggings for an entire calendar year than try and explain to Lucy why I spent the entire day here in Cora’s bed when I was supposed to be helping move Cletus out (and hey, for the record, I did an unimpeachable job).

And speaking of opinions of the situation, what about Cora’s? I know how I feel about her, and I think by now she does too, but who the hell knows what she thinks about us now? I wonder if she’s been having the same thoughts as me… I wonder if she’s still just as hung up as I am on what happened between us? Maybe she’s just as eager to give this thing a real try now that she’s finally free to do so? But until she says otherwise, we’re still technically still in this ceasefire, and I’m not about to be the one who violates it by bringing up such a radioactive subject. That would be just perfect, another one of our big stupid trademark fights. That’s pretty much what we’re best at, at this point. What’s my fucking problem? Why the hell am I waiting around here for another fight?

As if to answer my question, she sighs and wiggles a little closer. Jesus, I’m a weak-willed idiot for this woman. I know better, honestly I do, but I can’t help burying my nose deeper into her hair and the curve of her neck. Who knows when I’ll feel this close to her again. But in a feat of resolve, I manage to stop myself from kissing her. I’m not totally devoid of learning ability, after all. With one more deep breath, I slide my arm out from under her, my face screwed up partly with the effort of being stealthy and partly due to the pins and needles pricking my shoulder, and make my way out of her bed.

I’m sure I woke her up, but I’m not about to look back and confirm it. Nothing personal, I’ve just got to get going for both our sakes, that’s all. Scooping up my discarded shirt and hat, I head straight for the bathroom to pull myself together. I feel like such an asshole, though… I’m not ditching her, I’m just letting her stay in bed and rest, right? This isn’t a dick move, right? It’s just stealth. Sure. Right. Anxiety squeezes at my throat.

Except I realize the stealth plan is completely blown when I remember I have to head back to her room for my coat and boots. When I get there, the bed’s empty. Ohhhkay. So much for sneaking out. Time to try and find a creative way to get out of here before one of us does something stereotypically idiotic. I’ve stayed for way too long, and the last thing I want is for her to think I expect anything from her by hanging around. She’s so vulnerable right now. I don’t want her to feel like she owes me something for helping her out, or like I’m here because of any ulterior motives. I’ve got to leave with my principles intact, somehow.

After I’ve shuffled back into my boots, I head to the kitchen, where Cora’s got her back to me as she gets herself a fresh drink of water.

“Uh, so I gotta... get going,” I state the obvious, opening the front door with the hand that’s still draped in my coat, causing me to lose my grip on it and fumble to keep from dropping it entirely. Oh, excellent. Feeling extremely suave right about now.

“Yeah, I figured. I’ve kept you long enough, huh?” She refrains from laughing as I fight my way into my coat and just offers a tentative smile as she makes her way over to me. She’s wearing pants again. I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s still disappointing.

“No, it’s not… you didn’t… I could have… but, dog…”

One of her eyebrows skyrockets. “Again in English, please?”

“I gotta… go take care of the dog,” I finally stitch together a sentence with a cringe, “because, uh, my parents are still out of town. Poor old thing’s probably doing the bathroom dance by the back door.”

Fuck! That’s not even true! My parents’ flight landed earlier today, I’m sure the dog’s getting spoiled rotten as we speak. Why am I lying to her? The panicked feeling in my throat tightens.

“Aww, poor Penny,” she croons, setting the water glass down on top of the TV and taking me by the collar to give me a shake with both hands. “Why didn’t you tell me, Stoner? I woulda kicked you out hours ago!”

Jesus, she has the prettiest eyes. I’m never ready for the effect they have at close range like this. Shit. What are we talking about? Oh, right.

“I, uh… I probably should have gotten back to work already anyway, now that I’m no longer a sanitation threat to the general customer base of the bakery.”

She smooths out the fabric of my coat but doesn’t let go, gnawing on her bottom lip and frowning at her handiwork. “I should get back to school tomorrow too, probably.”

“Oh no way, Typhoid Mary, you’re under quarantine for at least another couple of days,” I cackle, putting my arm up in front of my face, making her drop her grip on my coat.

“I can’t miss that many classes! My professors will think I’m slacking off!”

“Oh, yeah, might as well just withdraw from school, no point even going back now that your credibility’s so irreparably damaged.”

She ignores me. “I should probably call them and explain, right?”

“It’s you, Red, I’m pretty sure after one missed lecture they’ve initiated a missing persons search. Come to think of it, I think I saw your face on a milk carton at the grocery store.”

“That’d be rich, considering I haven’t seen my own advisor since like September,” she allows a tiny smile, picking up the tattered novel I’d been reading earlier. “You wanna take this with you?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” I mumble, letting her push the book into my chest and taking it from her. “You sure you won’t miss it?”

“It’s a short book, Stone, I can spare it for a few weeks. Unless you’re planning to skip town or something.”

“No, why would I do that??” I gape at her in horror, feeling my heart start to race like a cornered animal. Is that what she thinks of me leaving like this? I’m not skipping town! I just don’t want to… I don’t even know what I want. Of course I want to stay and spend more time with her, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve overstayed my welcome and I need to give her some space… Jesus, calm down, idiot, look at her, she’s staring at you like you just sprouted extra ears. That’s obviously not what she meant.

“Okay, okay, unclench! It was just a joke, Stoner.” She gives me a shove to the shoulder before winding her arms around my middle and resting her head on the same spot she'd just assaulted. “Although I do kinda wish you could stay.”

“Yeah, uh, I mean, me too…” I stammer, yet again forgetting what we're even talking about because yet again all I can focus on is how good her hair smells. God, I’m a total disaster.

“Thank you. I mean it. For everything. For staying as long as you did…”

“It was nothing. I mean, I think I may have thrown my back out earlier, but that's what you get for hiring a slotted spoon for all your post-breakup moving man needs.”

A little laugh bubbles out of her and she starts to work out the muscles in my lower back in a slow, kneading motion.

“I was kidding, you don't have to do that…” I protest, my knees weakening. But she doesn’t stop, and I’m starting to feel awkward about not returning her hug, so I half-assedly reciprocate, which only prompts her to pull me closer and massage more of my back. Not good… or very good, very, very good... no, not good! I wish I could think of some other words, some way to explain why I’m in such a hurry to get away from her, but I can’t figure out what to say that won't be hurtful. That the longer I stay here, the more uncomfortable I am with the implications. That I’m not sure I can trust myself to make the right decisions around her, especially right now. That I really just need to go clear my head for a while, and she’s never been very helpful with that.

She nuzzles deeper into my shoulder before looking up at me, inches away and wearing a sheepish little smile, swaying us just slightly, like she’s not sure what else to do either. But we both know what we’d like to be doing. I want it to happen more than I can articulate, but I’m also not going to be the one to do it. I can’t seem to remember why not, though. Something about principles, I think. So I stand there like an absolute idiot and let her close the distance and kiss me. The closest thing I can manage to principled behavior is just to let her lead, to keep the kiss as light as I possibly can, to resist pulling her closer and taking over, to avoid walking her backwards into her bedroom and giving up on the whole stupid pretense that I have any sort of resolve whatsoever when it comes to her.

God, what are we doing? She's been single for less than 24 hours! This is a terrible idea, even by our standards… I pull away and drop my hands, hoping to give her a reassuring smile but probably looking more like the “before” guy in an antacid commercial before I slink into the hallway and away from her door.

I don't look back until I'm two flights of stairs away. What the hell was that? Why couldn’t I just tell her what was wrong? I should go back up, I should explain, she's probably still standing there stunned… I take a few steps back up before wheeling around again, ready to bolt out of her building until I regain enough composure and sense to come back and have a real talk with her about our situation, but instead I plow into someone heading upstairs.

“OW! Stone, what the FUCK?”

Some mumbled word that hopefully sounds like “sorry” comes out of me as I put a hand out to make sure Lucy doesn’t topple backwards. I was going to try to edge my way past her and continue down the stairs, but for the second time today, someone’s got me by the coat collar, and I stumble backwards up a couple stairs to get my balance.

She fixes me with a beady, searching squint. “What are you still doing here?”

“Nothing. I was just leaving.”

“Yeah, Captain Obvious, I know… wasn’t Alex supposed to come by around noon?”

“Yeah, he did.” With some effort, I shift until she releases her clawlike grip on me, but it’s clear she’s still not planning to let me past her just yet.

“It’s like 6:30… why are you still here? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine!” Her eyebrows shoot up, and frankly I'm surprised by my own volume as well. Shouting’s definitely not helping my case. I lower my voice several decibels and try again. “She’s fine, don’t worry. They didn’t see each other at all, she was asleep the whole time, I took care of it, and then, uh… we just fell asleep together. For a little while.”

“You what?” She’s a little shorter than me and two steps below me, but that doesn’t stop me from cowering back from the menacing look I just got. Still, she’s pissing me the fuck off and I’m in no mood for this.

“Did I stutter?” God, I really don’t need to pick a fight with Lucy too, but I’m running out of patience for this shit. I’m not thrilled about everyone always assuming the worst about me. Then again, I’ve just been occupied doing the same thing.

“Cut the shit, Stone! She’s been single for five fucking minutes, can’t you keep it in your pants long enough to let her --”

“Jesus! Nothing happened, okay?”

“This time, maybe.”

“Oh, fuck off. She didn’t want to be alone, I stuck around for a while, that’s it! I did what you fucking asked.”

Lucy’s mouth opens furiously, but I’ve pushed past her before she can get a word out. She’s made her point. And I’d never admit it to her, but I know she’s right.

***

What the fuck is his problem? Ugh, you sarcastic little shit! Yeah, you’d better run!

With a huff, I stomp up the rest of the stairs. I can’t believe him! I’ve stuck up for him, I’ve defended him to Cora, I’ve tried to help her recognize how much she loves his stupid ass, and he bites my head off? Me, of all people? I’m not the enemy! I just want to make sure he’s giving her a little space, that’s all! No wonder he’s storming off, they probably got into another one of their textbook fights because he tried to move things forward too fast. I know he’s a complete shithead when it comes to Cora, but I figured he’d have enough sense not to try and make a move today, at the very least. Last time I give too much credit to Stone, that’s for damn sure.

I slow my pace down when I hit her floor and brace myself for whatever kind of apocalyptic, tearful mess he probably left behind. The door is still wide open, which can’t be a good sign… I edge into the apartment and knock lightly anyway, even though I can see her in the kitchen from the hallway.

“Hey Luce,” she smiles over her shoulder before returning to the cabinet she’s rooting through. She’s not exactly the picture of health, but for someone with the flu, she looks pretty normal. And chipper. Which is precisely zero help as I try to piece together why Stone was rushing out of here in such a bitchy hurry.

“Hey… how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Slept most of the day, which probably didn’t hurt. Stone just left.” She’s got her back to me as she grabs a sheet pan and fills it with frozen tater tots, so I can’t gauge her face, but her voice still sounds pretty upbeat.

“Yeah? He wasn’t too much of a pest?”

“No, why would he be?” she says, keeping a neutral tone as she puts the pan in the oven and turns around.

“You sure you’re okay? Stone spent the whole day here and you’re not annoyed? If you’re hallucinating, we definitely need to get you to the hospital…” I reach up to put a hand on her forehead but she bats it away with a weak smile.

“Seriously, it’s fine. He did all the packing, he made me take some cold meds, and I spent most of the day completely crashed out. When I woke up, he’d handled the whole Alex thing, I didn’t even have to come to the door. Really decent of him, actually.”

“Yeah,” I peer at her. “I guess. So you’re really okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I mean… just wondering.”

She hunches her shoulders defensively, but she’s still smiling, so it’s clear that pressing the issue isn’t going to get me any new information. But it still kinda freaks me out that she’s this calm and robotic about it all. I mean, we’re not even a day out from Cindygate, and she’s acting so… normal? I know this is her first breakup, but doesn’t she know the rules? Doesn’t she know she’s entitled to a sobbing, ice-cream binging, voodoo doll-making phase? How the hell can she be so calm about this? And what the hell happened with Stone, and why isn’t she more spun up about that? I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake the story out of her, but that’s more for my benefit than for hers. I need a different approach.

“So what do you want to get up to tonight?”

Without a word, she points at the oven and then at her own open mouth, which inadvertently becomes a full-body yawn. “Tots. Then sleep.”

“Didn’t you sleep all day?”

“Yeah, it was fucking exhausting. Seriously, I kinda just want to be alone so I can crash.”

“Sure, okay… you sure?”

“I’m sure! I don’t need supervision, Lucy, I just need more sleep.”

“Yeah, of course,” I nod reassuringly, but I’m still not sure what to make of this totally calm, emotionless robot. Is she really okay? Is she just spaced out on cold meds? Is she waiting for me to leave so she can fall apart?

“Go say hi to the guys for me, okay?” she chirps with her back toward me as she peeks into the oven to check on her tater tots, waving without looking.

“Uh huh. Uhm, you can come over if you want company…”

“Nah. I’ll call you tomorrow!”

Okay, as I make my way out into the hallway and close the door behind me, I can maybe start to see why Stone was so shaken up. Acting this calm the day after what she just went through? That’s just fucking freaky. No good will come of this.

When I key into Jeff’s apartment, he and Eddie glance up from where they’re both sitting on the couch, guitars in hand, noses buried in one of Ed’s little notebooks. Basketball’s on the TV, and a bag of Chips Ahoy sits half-devoured between them on the cushion. A much more normal and reassuring sight. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my shoulders tight around my ears all day, but it’s a massive relief to leave Cora’s drama behind for a little while and come home. I mean, not that Jeff’s place is my home! I guess technically I spend enough time here that I’ve started to think of it that way, but the idea of making things more official hasn’t really come up. Not since the whole “I love you” thing happened in the bathroom the other day. And I’m not even sure it came up then. I might have been imagining it in the midst of all those paint fumes. To be honest, I’m kind of glad it hasn’t come up again because I’m still not sure how to handle a relationship that’s going this well. In some ways, Jeff being in my life feels like a practical joke. Like at any moment, some horrible game show host is going to pop out from behind a ficus plant and say, ‘just kidding, you didn’t really think a guy this great could actually be in love with YOU, did you? Look, everybody, can you believe she fell for it...’

“In or out?” Jeff grins, setting his bass down propped up against the couch to stand up and take an irresistible kitten-like stretch.

“In.”

“Hi, Lucy,” Eddie mumbles as I close the door behind me, scratching his eyebrow and smiling shyly.

I try to say hi back, but it’s a muffled yelp from inside Jeff’s sudden bear hug, and Eddie quickly averts his eyes back to the notebook.

“Work good?” Jeff says from somewhere in my hair, totally oblivious to Eddie’s discomfort.

“Yeah, just long. Have you talked to Stone?”

His snort right into my ear tells me that’s a no. “So you didn’t hear anything about how today went?”

“How what went?” Jeff lets me go just enough to get a look at my face. Shit, that’s right, I’ve been so wrapped up in all this drama I haven’t even told him what happened last night! Oh, this is not going to be pretty.

“Sooo,” I stall, filling my lungs with air and focusing on my feet planted on their scuffed floor, trying to ground myself before the inevitable explosion, “the thing is, Cora kicked Alex out last night after finding him in their apartment with another girl…”

Jeff takes a big step back from me and laces his fingers behind his head like he’s trying to restrain them from wringing the nearest neck. “Whhh…” he struggles to talk through clenched teeth. When I glance over at Eddie, he hasn’t moved a muscle except to draw his eyebrows as far down into a knot as humanly possible as he glares at his pages.

“Yeah, it was pretty terrible, or it sounds that way. She didn’t tell me until this morning, but I guess she threw him out right then and spent the night by herself. That’s all I know. She won’t really talk to me about it. Anyway, I called him this morning and talked him into coming by to get his stuff today, just to rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I think he was feeling guilty enough that he went for it. And Stone was the only one around to help out and make sure Alex didn’t hassle Cora when he came by.”

“You should have called me, I woulda left work!” Jeff shouts, letting his arms flail. “God, I wait all year for a chance to punch that guy in the jaw, and Stone gets to do it, of all people? I don’t think he even knows how to throw a punch, he’d probably miss and end up hitting himself!”

“Stone had a pretty good grip on things, nobody got punched,” Eddie says absently in that uniquely low but resonant way he has, so that even the quietest words reach every ear in the room.

“Wait, you were there too? Fuck, I miss everything!”

“Well, no, I just sorta… I was in the right place at the right time, I helped Stone get some of the boxes into the guy’s truck.” His eyes are boring holes into the floor, refusing to look at either Jeff or me, so we settle for looking equally confused at one another. How come Stone didn’t mention Eddie helping out? I wonder if Cora has any idea. She certainly didn’t let on if she did. Shit, let’s hope not. She’d probably be completely mortified.

“Wait, so this thing with this girl, do you know if it was a one-off or what?” Jeff presses me for more details.

“It was his best friend’s girlfriend, I think. Apparently it had been going on for like a year.”

Just as Jeff interpretively dances through another fit of apoplectic rage, Eddie excuses himself and starts to slouch off toward his bedroom, which is really more like a large closet with a futon. Poor guy, he probably feels really uncomfortable with me here all the time, especially with so little space of his own to escape to.

“Eddie, you don’t have to go! Did you guys eat dinner yet? I could make something!”

“Hmm? Nah, thanks, I’m good, I’ve gotta… I'll figure something out a little later, you go ahead,” he mumbles cryptically, disappearing down the hall.

“Guy’s a fast learner, he already knows not to let you cook,” Jeff grumbles, visibly winding down just a tiny bit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. She didn't even tell me until this morning. It all happened so quickly before work.”

“Nah, don’t apologize, it’s not like I’m mad at you. I just really hate that fucking guy.”

“Join the club.”

With a chuckle, he pulls me into another embrace. “Pizza?”

We order dinner, I ditch my work clothes for the sweats I’ve started keeping in his dresser, and before long, it’s starting to feel like any other normal Tuesday evening. Until, after settling into a pizza coma with my legs stretched out over his lap on the couch, half-asleep, he speaks up out of nowhere.

“So, have you thought anymore about it?”

“About what?” I ask through a stifled yawn.

“Moving in with me.”

Instantly wide awake, I gape at him and rack my brain. When the fuck did we talk about moving in together? When did we talk about it in enough detail that he thought I’d have an answer? What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Has absolutely everyone in this building lost their damn mind? What was in those paint fumes, anyway?

***

Wednesday, November 7th, 1990

Not your typical sick day, I guess. Most people would probably just stay in bed, but I’m having a hard time with the whole bed concept. It felt a little less like “our” bed when Stone was here with me, distracting me from the fact that it used to be a shared bed by definition, but it still doesn’t feel like “mine.” Who knows how long it’s going to take me to occupy the whole bed when I sleep by myself. It feels rude to take up Alex's space. I hate that I’m still calling it his space. It’s not like he’s coming back for it. Not like I’d even want him to. But it still feels like there’s a big “reserved” sign hanging over that side of the bed. So much of my apartment doesn’t feel like mine. Looking around and seeing massive, conspicuous holes where Alex’s things used to be makes it so much worse. They look like wounds.

So I’ve spent the day covering up those holes. Shuffling books and records around so that the bookcases don’t look so gap-toothed. Reorganizing my sweaters to use all the drawers in the dresser. But that only wasted so much time. I still had a whole day to myself. It’s weird, I spent a lot of time by myself when we were together, too -- I guess that was part of the problem -- but the solitary time never felt this bottomless. Now, I’ll do anything I can think of to fill it up, use it up, burn it, in the hope that if I kill enough of it, it’ll develop an end. One of those light things at the end of the tunnel that stupid optimistic people are always talking about.

The first thing I thought of was calling the clinic. I’m on their schedule for tomorrow for a check-up. I’ve never gone to one of these places before, but it seems the obvious thing to do. Not even out of fear, really, just out of due diligence. It doesn’t even seem like my own health I’m checking up on, it’s just something right out of the Handbook for the Recently Cheated On.

Then, once the thought of cleanliness had occurred to me, it seemed only natural that purging the apartment was the next step. Maybe if every last corner of this place is spotless, it’ll feel more like it belongs to me, more like a fresh start of some kind. And mindless tasks are the perfect way to burn out any thoughts about Alex, like checking the clock and wondering if he’s ever going to call. He probably has no reason to call someone he’s been over for so long, and I’m not sure I want to hear from him, but there’s this weird void where he used to be, made all the more prominent by how suddenly it appeared. Shouldn’t we have some kind of closure? Wouldn’t calling me to talk about it be the right thing to do, even if it was just a postmortem? I thought we respected each other at least enough for that. Maybe he will call eventually, but not enough time has passed. See? This is why I need to clean the fucking house, I can’t stop dwelling on stupid shit like this. Or other stupid shit, like how confusing everything’s gotten with Stone. I haven’t heard anything from him since he sprinted out of my place yesterday. God, what was I thinking, kissing him? He was obviously trying to get out of here as fast as he could, I just… I didn’t want him to leave, and I didn’t know how to explain it to him, so I said it the only way I could think to say it… he couldn’t have been less into it, the poor guy. I’m sure he just stayed the whole day out of pity, and I took advantage of his kindness by kissing him. Fucking great. Running them off in droves. Who can blame them?

So I’ve vacuumed, I’ve mopped, I’ve dusted. I’ve disinfected the light switches. I’ve run vinegar solutions through the dishwasher, the coffee pot. I’ve scrubbed all the baseboards. I’ve cleaned under the refrigerator. I’ve oiled the creaky bathroom door hinges. I’ve used Alex’s toothbrush to clean the bathroom floor tile grout. And I’m running out of ideas. God, I really need to get healthy soon so I can go the fuck back to the lab, this is pathetic. Oh! I don’t think I’ve ever deep-cleaned the radiator!

A cloth, a bucket of soapy water, and a grimy cast-iron project. Perfect. There are so many impossible angles, so many unreachable corners, so many attention-stealing details I can fixate on until my hands go numb. I could do this for hours. I already feel like I have been doing this for hours. This is exactly what I needed. The perfect antidote to overthinking.

I have no idea what time it is when I hear a tentative knock on my door. Probably Lucy checking on me after work again. It’s sweet of her, but really, I need to get rid of her as soon as I can. The less I have to explain about my mental state to concerned third parties, the better.

“Come in, it’s open,” I call, not lifting my head from the floor where I’m crouched on my hands and knees to check whether the underside of the radiator is uniformly glistening.

“Did you lose something under there?”

At the sound of a much deeper than expected voice, I jolt upright, regretting the decision instantly when my neck complains. “Eddie! What are you doing here?” Fuck, why does he always catch me off guard like this? I always run into him at the worst moments.

“Oh, sorry, is this a bad time?”

If it were anyone but Eddie, I would probably say yes, because my life lately is an endless continuum of bad times, but he looks so small and forlorn standing in my doorway clutching a baking pan covered in foil that I can’t bring myself to make him feel any more out of place.

“No, not at all.”

“Uhm, not to, like… question your methods or anything, but… what were you doing just now?”

“Cleaning the radiator.”

“Huh. Do you have to do that?”

I shrug, dropping the rag into the bucket of scummy water. “I have to do something.”

“Sure, sure, yeah.” He nods with a scowl. This seems to be one of his approving scowls. I like a person who has different varieties of scowls. “Well, uhm,” his gaze travels down to the pan in his hands, and the scowl becomes almost one of surprise, as if he didn’t remember bringing it with him, “I heard you were feeling under the weather, so I figured someone should drop off some sustenance.”

Only when he mentions food does my stomach loudly remind me that I’ve forgotten to eat all day. “Oh, thanks,” I start to say, but he keeps mumbling down at the dish.

“It’s not like it’s gourmet or anything, it’s just baked ziti, there was a coupon for spaghetti sauce. I don’t really have my own pans and stuff, though, so you’re gonna have to give this one back eventually, it’s Jeff’s…”

“I think I can handle that.” His sincerity is so touching that I want to hug him, except I’m all covered in sweat and grime, and he looks like he might shatter if I tried. I settle for taking the pan from him with a simple “thank you” and giving him a chance to find someplace in my apartment where he feels a little more at ease. True to form, he settles on standing in the doorway, one foot still in the hall, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his eyes digging into the floor.

I was about to put the pan away, figuring I’d heat it up by myself later, but the black marker design sketched on the aluminum foil cover stops me in my tracks in front of my recently polished fridge. Setting the pan down on the counter to study it, I find a series of angular, progressing ocean waves crashing on a shore. A few seabirds seem to be circling way out over the water. As my eyes travel in from the ocean, there’s a spit of beach encircled by a spiky ring of vegetation, some roughly sketched palm trees, and a hammock underneath. And even though no one’s speaking, I can hear his voice reaffirming our stupid little daydream outside the Off Ramp that night. 

The island’s still there if we need it, right?

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He turns around from his solitary post in my door frame.

“You got dinner plans?”

“No,” his scowl gives way to a tight-lipped and dimpled smile, “you?”

“Now I do. Thanks for this.”

“Ahh,” he rumbles, shaking his head uncomfortably at the floor and making his way inside, closing the door behind him.