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ackerfics · 3 years ago

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the parent trap — levi ackerman (iv)

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

— warnings: angst??? and feels, i think

— summary: after assuming that everything was starting to shift further away from the plan, the people in the ackerman estate found out the identity of the boy mirroring the twin they know so well.

— word count: 8.6k (i know, i had to do it bc it's been so long)

— author's notes: finally, after weeks of not touching this series, i finally updated it. this part is centered around the reveal in levi's side of things. to those who watched the movie, you know things will go down from here. happy reading everyone !!

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

The news that was dropped on Altair last night stole away every ounce of sleep from him.

At first, he felt like everything collapsed on his shoulders. His mum is getting married? In what universe? There wasn’t even a decent man in a five-meter radius around his mother, well, except for her employees at the bridal shop. Nonetheless, all of the men trying to court her were turned down in an instant but why was she getting married to an idiot when he was away from home? The number of times he ran his hand through his hair and wishing everything was perfect can’t be counted on his fingers. First, it was that Cindy woman and now, an unknown man wooing you with serenades and God knows what in London has added himself in the list of pesky outliers. There shouldn’t be outliers in the first place. Throughout the night, Altair made his mind busy by making adjustments in their plan, eyes fixed on the ceiling in concentration.

The next thing he knew, daybreak dripped on his eyelids, peeking through the spaces between his curtains. Altair sat up on his bed and rubbed his eyes free of sleep crust before turning to his alarm clock on the nightstand. A red 9:34 glared at him, telling him he overslept. The boy huffed and plopped himself back on the plush mattress, his pillows swallowing him whole as he tried to give himself more hours of sleep. His five-minute doze was interrupted with a knock on his door. It took everything in him not to shout ‘five more minutes' so he decided to might as well wake himself up by walking to the door and answering the person on the other side.

Petra’s face beamed at him and Altair had to narrow his eyes because Petra’s smile was too bright for his own good. It was like looking too long at the sunrise.

“Good morning, Al!” the redhead greeted him.

“Morning, Petra,” Altair replied, rubbing his eyes again. “I’m sorry I overslept.”

Petra waved him off. “It’s fine. I expected it yesterday since you just came home from camp. You must be so tired. Why don’t you go take a bath and change and come downstairs for some breakfast? I’m sure this will wake you up — I cooked your favorites.” The boy nodded at her suggestion. She tried teasing him by calling his name again, Altair turning around to acknowledge his nanny with a raised eyebrow. “You know, I’d probably oversleep, too, if I were up in the middle of the night making mysterious phone calls from my bathroom. It’s pretty quiet in here at midnight so I think that pretty much exposed you.”

Altair froze at Petra’s inquiring tone, blinking his speechlessness. In an instant, he doesn’t feel sleepy anymore. He scratched his undercut. “Uhm, it was a friend from camp. He just wanted to talk to me, that’s all.”

The redhead hummed as she crossed her arms. “Ooh-kay. Well, your breakfast will be waiting on the kitchen counter!” She shouted while making her way downstairs.

“Okay!” Altair yelled back.

He opened his closet and took out a blue flannel, a white undershirt, and a pair of jeans. Without wasting any more time, Altair got himself ready by taking a bath just as Petra suggested and made himself presentable once he reached the kitchen. His hair was still wet, a towel wrapped around his shoulders when he inhaled the savory smell of breakfast on the first floor. As Altair sat on the high counter stool, Petra turned around from cutting up fruits and placed too many plates in front of the boy with a smile. He couldn’t control the twitch in his eyebrows as he stared at his breakfast. Is his twin really eating this much food every morning? He realized he might be coming off as rude since he was only staring at the number of bacon slices on his plate so Altair took a bite of bacon and let the sound of knives against the cutting board flit through his ears.

“Petra?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a cup of rose tea?”

Petra stopped cutting the mangos and stared at Altair, who was immersed in doing small bites of his breakfast. The redhead stared for a moment and assessed the way Altair picked up his fork and knife — it was the same way a certain someone did back in college when Levi’s friend group and lover ate meals together. Now that Petra remembered it; when you gave birth to the twins, she mentioned how one of them inherited the shape of your eyes. It could be a trick of the light but Altair’s eyes were softer in the edges instead of the sharpness Levi adorned, the boy’s eyelashes slightly fuller than usual.

“Petra?”

The said woman jumped at the mention of her name, with Altair’s face scrunched up in worry at her lack of response. She cleared her throat while transferring the mangos in a small bowl, sliding it towards Altair. “Yeah?”

The silver-eyed boy rose an eyebrow. “Are you alright? You look like you were in a trance there.”

“I’m fine.” Petra washed her hands before wiping them dry with a clean towel. Her gaze went from the boy’s expectant stare to his unfinished breakfast. This was weird. Altair usually never leaves any leftovers on his plate, it was what Levi taught him since he could eat on his own. Pushing this matter at the back of her mind, she smiled. “You’re not going to finish that, Al?”

Altair looked down on his half-eaten scrambled eggs, bacon slices, and still full pasta salad. He only had a couple of bites from the last dish and wished he could eat more but the two slices of bacon and scrambled eggs made him full in an instant. His stomach couldn’t handle too much in an early hour. He needed the tea to wash all this down. “No, I’m not, I think I’m full,” he answered, patting his stomach with a grin. He hoped Petra wouldn’t notice that his appetite wasn’t like his twin. That idiot (his twin, never Petra) appeared small like him but the buffoon has a vacuum inside his torso, always hungry at the wee hours of the day. If this was roast beef, this was a different story. “Must be because I’m tired from the trip. I don’t feel like eating and moving around too much.”

Petra nodded in understanding, preparing the rose tea the boy requested. She was waiting for the water to boil as she glanced at Levi’s pride and joy. “So why rose tea?”

“Pardon?”

Pardon? With a suppressed chuckle, Petra turned around with an incredulous expression on her face. “Camp made you prim and proper, huh? So why rose tea, champ?”

“Because I thought it would be nice to try the flower teas instead of the fruit-flavored ones this time. I know Dad has been experimenting with flowers for the next blends.”

Petra hummed, letting the tea steep for a few minutes. The scent of roses immediately wafted across the kitchen, making the two sigh in contentment. Petra wasn’t one for tea but smelling the pink drink made her want to try one. She presented the cup of rose tea to the black-haired boy, who was leaning forward to finally have his drink, his silver eyes sparkling at the small petals floating on top of his tea. Petra knew she was watching Altair closely but all her doubts flew out the window when she witnessed the boy hold the teacup the same way Levi does. Maybe she was looking into this too much. She shook her head and took away the leftovers, placing them in containers.

She missed the way Altair blew out a sigh of relief, a small half-smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

Altair stood up from his seat, patting his lap from imaginary dust and placing the towel from his shoulders to the back of the counter stool. He took a long sip of his tea before grinning widely at his nanny. “Thank you so much for breakfast, Petra!”

“No problem, kiddo. Oh, and your Dad wants to talk to you about something. He’s in his office.”

“Okay!”

The black-haired boy walked past the archway leading to the living room, where the glass double doors to the patio were located. Snuggling on the floor and chewing on his toy was Levi’s golden retriever, Captain. Altair flinched when he saw the dog shift their head in his direction. A series of barks came out of the pet, making the boy hurry for the handles of the double doors. His heart was pounding when he couldn’t get the doors to open, pulling on them as Captain was now standing up to give him another round of barks. It caught the attention of Petra and the woman instantly shot to the living room but not before shouting something that made Altair’s ears turn red of embarrassment.

“Push, Al.” Petra was now wrapping her arms around the dog, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

Altair stopped for a moment, twisting the handles of the double doors and pushing them just as Petra said. He turned around with a sheepish smile, chuckling nervously because this mistake might have lost him the plan. “Must have slipped my mind.” He had never gotten out of a house that quickly in his entire life.

Only when he stepped foot on the patio that he could breathe normally. Altair kicked a pebble on the pathway, hands snug inside his pockets, as he thought about what his father will tell him. He followed the pathway until he was met with a slope, a building looking the main estate was sitting on top of the small hill overlooking the plantation. With a bundle of nerves swirling in his stomach, Altair took a deep breath and trekked the hill. The higher he got, hectares of a variety of tea trees greeted his vision, mimicking the sea with its vastness. It was the first time he saw something so wide and before he knew it, questions started entering his mind.

If the Ackerman family held so much money, why did his grandparents make his mum go back to London? Why did they take away the only person who made her feel loved in every sort of way possible? She could’ve been happy here. Everything is so soothing and secure.

The sound of people talking snapped him back to reality. Altair shook his head and continued his small walk towards the building. It looked like there was more activity in here than he imagined. People were sorting out the tea leaves they harvested and others were manning a machine meant for grounding the leaves. It was so busy that he didn’t realize he stopped in front of the huge window showing all of the employees trying to keep Levi’s business booming.

A person rounding the building noticed his gawking and smiled a little. They clutched the flowers they picked for the new blends Levi was experimenting on and went to the black-haired boy. “Al, welcome home. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday to welcome you back.”

The silver-eyed boy turned around to the young woman sharing his features — the same jet-black hair, pale complexion, and shade of silver for the eyes (though hers were more on the bluish side of the spectrum). He tried recalling the family members his brother told him to remember. There was a woman with the same appearance in one of the pictures. She was hugging the Altair she knows, their smiles shining through the piece of shiny paper. She was the older cousin his twin was telling so many stories about since she was the only one closer to his age around the household. The Altair standing in front of her right now smiled, muttering her name, “Mikasa.”

Mikasa returned the smile with her own, sitting on her heels to meet the boy’s eyes. “How was camp?”

“My opponent in a fencing competition pushed me in the washing area of our pavilion.”

Mikasa winced, ruffling the boy’s hair gently. “Why did they do that?”

Altair shrugged, feeling proud of himself for doing that to his twin despite being guilty to this day. “Guess he was better than me at fencing. He has a teacher specifically for that sport back in their hometown.”

“Oh, wow. If you want someone to practice fencing with, I’ll gladly help you.” The young woman tilted her head with a smile. “That is if you want to go back to that camp next summer. I’ll even learn the rules for you.”

The older of the two had so many records in her portfolio. Altair recalled that his brother was gushing about how Mikasa was a part of the track and field team the entirety of her stay in college. She was also a part of a volleyball club when she was in high school. This young woman has everything in her belt and it would be so good if Altair practiced fencing with her. However, he also realized that Mikasa probably had her hands full with academic and familial responsibilities. “But you have your final year in college, though, and you’re so busy in the plantation.”

Mikasa once again tousled Altair’s hair, chuckling under her breath. “Anything for my baby cousin so don’t worry about it.” She looked down at the pile of flowers in her arms. She handed a single red lily flower to Altair. “Here, to brighten up your day.” Mikasa stood up and waved at Altair. “I’m testing these flowers out with some berries, kiddo. I’ll be in the kitchen by the sorting room with Annie. If we can get the right combination, we’ll let you try some. Your dad is in his office waiting for you.” With that, Mikasa turned around but not before ruffling Altair’s hair again.

Altair nodded at nobody in particular and entered the building with a slight skip in his steps. The office was situated on the second floor of the manor-like establishment. The color palette of red and olive green was still observed in the interior but the large, open balcony let in enough light to illuminate the second floor. There was a railing surrounding the middle space of the entire floor, perfect for looking down and observing the bustling life inside the house. Altair’s destination, however, was the door to the left side of the second floor down a painting-covered hallway. He tentatively knocked on the door with his father’s name pinned on it. Altair faintly heard someone call inside the room and opened the door to peek his head in.

Levi was behind his desk, phone close to his ear. “Yes, Erwin. I thought you will be visiting because of Altair today. I see. No problem. You can visit the plantation anytime.” He glanced at the opened door, seeing Altair meekly staring at him. He smiled a little before telling Erwin, “Al’s here. Yeah. The stocks are fine and the new blends are coming out great. Sure, I’ll send you some. Bye.” The silver-eyed man sighed as he placed his phone on the desk. “You can come in, Al. Usually, you just barge in here and wait for me on the couch.” Levi hummed, eyes softening at the sight of his son grinning in front of him.

Altair chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I thought it was an important call.”

“It was just Eyebrows.”

“Whatever you say, Dad.”

The boy sat on the couch, eyes inconspicuously roaming around the office. He heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and Altair looked up to find his dad preparing a cup of tea in the kitchenette installed in the room. He looked away from Levi and shifted his attention to the framed photographs on the desk. Everything wasn’t facing him but there was one frame positioned to face the person behind the desk. Altair craned his neck to get a glimpse of the picture, his eyes going back and forth between the frame and his dad, who was waiting for the tea to steep. With his body draping over the couch and neck stretching as far as he could (the position was starting to hurt), Altair saw that it was a picture of you, his mum. The silver-eyed boy gasped because it was you in a wedding dress.

“Blimey.”

“Al?”

Altair dropped the position with a huff. He straightened himself to face a confused Levi, a tray of two teacups filled with raspberry tea held by his hands. “Thought I could just, you know,” he nervously chuckled, “get a good stretch after oversleeping. So what’s up, Dad?”

Levi hummed, placing the tray on the low table. He sat beside Altair, body facing the little boy as he surveyed the innocent smile plastered on his son as he sipped on his cup of tea, the two of them mirroring how they held their cups. Maybe it was because Al went away for summer camp in the last eight weeks or maybe he was just missing you and your presence in his life, but Levi felt his heart clench at how fast his little boy was growing. The summer camp must be a blessing in disguise because his boy came home with newfound manners and the whole time he was away, he thought hard enough to make a decision he won’t come to regret. Eight weeks was a long time, things are bound to change. So Levi cleared his throat and readied himself in spilling his carefully thought-out plans to his son.

“There’s something really important I want to talk to you about, Al,” Levi started, putting this teacup back on the low table.

“That’s funny because there’s something really important that I want to talk to you about.”

“Yeah? Well, you go first, kiddo.”

Altair shook his head rapidly, gulping down his tea first. “No, you first, Dad.”

“Hmm.” The black-haired man carefully formulated the words in his mind. The first order of business was to cut off any people who would dare hurt his son. Yesterday was just the catalyst in his ongoing debate with Petra all summer to get rid of the publicist leeching off of him. From the look on Altair’s face while he was wading in the pool, Levi figured that Cynthia said something to him that might have shaken his mind. He leveled his gaze with Altair’s and told him, “Okay, I want to talk to you about Cynthia, the hired publicist for the teahouse and plantation.”

The boy turned his body so that he was seeing his father eye to eye. “And I wanted to talk to you about Mom.” Altair furrowed his eyebrows in distaste. “Oh, so Cynthia’s her name. What about Cynthia?”

Levi blinked in surprise. He knew Altair was a smart kid but he didn’t expect him to pick up on things so fast. There was no one in the estate that he shared his current sentiments. Petra was known to be a person not careful enough to keep a secret hidden from Altair and Erwin will most likely tease Levi throughout the day if he revealed his plans. Not to mention that Mikasa will probably indulge his kid in spilling every embarrassing thing about him so that makes his niece out of the list of people worthy enough to be told a secret.

With a calm voice, he regarded his little him with a flat expression. “What about your mom?”

Altair groaned in exasperation. “Dad, I’m almost twelve. I’m at a point in my life to ask about the whereabouts of my mom. You can’t expect me to believe the stork story all my life!”

A slow inhale and a look at the ceiling was all Levi needed to compose himself. “You know what, that is a story for later. But first, we’re going to talk about the publicist. Did she say anything to you? Anything that might have hurt you in any way yesterday?”

One pair of gray eyes looked away from the other to examine the invisible dust gathering on top of the coffee table. Altair wanted to tell Levi that Cynthia was trying to exploit him, trying to wound him in her trap and to make him fall in love with her. But the way that his father was insisting on the topic of Cynthia instead of you didn’t sit right with him at all. To Altair, it looked like Levi was desperate to clean the woman’s name and to make him build a relationship with her when the time comes that she’ll be carrying the Ackerman name. He mentally apologized to his other half across the ocean for not having the strength to continue the plan. Because as he glanced at Levi, the man’s concern apparent on the glint of his eyes, Altair wanted his father to be happy — to love someone without any pain that spanned for more than a decade.

“No, she didn’t say anything to me. She just told me how happy she is to be on the plantation.”

As much as he was scared to be a father when his boys were born, Levi always knew if his son was lying after years of raising Altair alone (with the help of Petra but the nanny will always give him the credit). Right now, however, he couldn’t tell if Al was lying or not. “Al, are you telling me the truth? If not—“

The door burst open, bringing with it an overly dramatic woman. “Levi? Are you here, sweetie?”

Eld followed after Cynthia, his face betraying his aggravation at the woman. “Don’t just enter Levi’s office without permission, Ma’am!”

Cynthia scoffed, insulted at the term. “'Ma’am’?! I’m not that old, employee.”

The blonde man bristled. He tried puffing his chest to remind the publicist that he has more authority than just a last-minute accommodation in the staff, but he stopped when he saw Levi starting to stand up from the couch. He had never seen his boss express anger in his years of being Levi’s secretary, however, the apparent look on the onyx-haired man will probably drive Cynthia more than six feet under the surface. Eld dismissed Cynthia with a roll of his eyes, focusing on the annoyed man walking towards them with terrifying footsteps. “Levi, she just went inside the building. Believe me, we were trying to prevent her from getting her head cut off by you but she wouldn’t listen!” The blonde glared at the woman who was gasping dramatically, manicured hand pressed on her chest. “Levi, you have to believe me. Mikasa even had to—“

“I understand, Eld.” Levi’s voice was uncharacteristically icy. Sure, he was known for being blunt and dismissive at times but that was the man's nature in forming social relationships. The employees were used to him being that way. Right now, though, his glare could have frozen Cynthia in place. “What is this, Miss Maryland? I thought I told you to leave a message to my secretary if you want to have an appointment with me. But I remember telling you that I’m not free this day.”

Cynthia pouted. “But I also told you that I wanted to have lunch with you! Is your job more important than me? Or are you just using that as an excuse to not make time for me?”

Eld looked scandalized at the woman’s reaction while Altair was wincing at the sound of Cynthia’s whine.

Levi was praying for his ears as well, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself down. He looked at Altair at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t recall you being on my priority list, Miss Maryland, and I have plans with Al today anyway. Horseback riding.”

“You’re lying!” The woman turned to Altair. “Is this true, Al, darling?”

The boy quickly took note of the hint of desperation from his father’s eyes so he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be riding Nox since I miss my horse while I was at camp.”

“You heard my kid,” Levi drawled. “Now get out. You’re invading my privacy — sounds fitting for your job.”

Cynthia’s face scrunched in disgust, turning around abruptly, her hair hitting Eld in the face. The blonde man sputtered before incredulously staring at the retreating publicist. There wouldn’t be any need for Mikasa to restrain her if needed since she knew the way out. Eld turned back to Levi and Altair, his face showing how guilty he was. “Levi, I’m really sorry. If I’d known she’ll barge in here like this.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you, Eld.”

“Alright.” Eld trailed off, shifting his attention from Levi to Altair. He waved at Levi’s son before pointing at the door behind. “Have a great afternoon, you two.”

Levi nodded at his friend, sitting on the couch with a sigh when the door closed. He had to get rid of that publicist, she was starting to become a headache. Levi then felt a small weight on his shoulder. Turning his head to the side, a head of onyx hair greeted his vision. With a small smile, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around Altair, letting him snuggle into his side some more. The two of them cherished the silence as if the room was their haven, away from pesky publicists and the bustling activity a floor below.

Speeding through the plantation felt liberating for Altair. He wanted to raise his arms in the air as they zoomed by the small tea trees but that would mean having Levi being suspicious of him. At first, Altair thought that the predicament with Captain would be the same with Nox but the black beauty of a horse nuzzled his palm affectionately as if he was the real owner. Of course, it couldn’t happen without the help of the sugar cubes laid out on his palm. Now, he was laughing as he raced with his dad, their destination was the hill on the other side of the plantation. It looked like Levi was winning but Altair tried to spur Nox faster. A blur of black reached their landmark, a tree with a swing on it, and Altair whooped at the top of his lungs.

“I won!”

“You always win,” Levi told him, a loving stare directed at his son.

Altair turned his horse to meet Levi’s stare. “I do?”

A confused frown painted the silver-eyed man’s lips.

At that, Altair brightened immediately, realizing his mistake. “I do! Just slipped my mind again. I can’t seem to stop forgetting things. That’s so weird.”

Levi guided his horse to walk towards Altair’s. “Yeah, so weird,” he murmured until he was beside his son. They stared at the plantation with varying expressions. The boy looked so mesmerized at how the sun touched every single tree while Levi blankly surveyed the rows of what brought him to this moment. It was once upon a time when he brought you here during spring break in junior year at college, telling you his dreams of starting a tea plantation. You looked radiant against the sunset, the rays creating a halo that Levi wanted to preserve forever. Altair’s laugh when he won has the same smile as yours when you manage to outrun him in a race. Levi couldn’t help but think of a life with you and the twins here in the plantation and estate, the two boys growing up with each other and with both parents unlike now. The four of you wouldn’t experience the pain brought by the separation. But reality struck him hard when Altair breathed out an expelling sigh, eyes soft around the corners like yours.

“So, Al, do you think we’re lonely?”

The said boy looked at his dad, who was wistfully looking at the plantation like it was hurting him. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Altair’s grip on the reins tightened. “Why are you asking this, Dad?”

Levi took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, Al, but I feel lonely every night. The moon and the stars must be tired of my internal monologues to them, all wishing to have a normal night with our complete family. But with Maryland here, there seems to be someone at the back of my head telling me to make a move. You know what, Al, I want—“

“Race you back to the ranch, Dad!”

“What—wait, Al! Hey, slow down, kiddo!”

Tears were starting to blur Altair’s vision as he rode around the plantation. No, the plan wasn’t going to work. His twin brother was a liar when he said he had an amazing and genius plan. Everything was starting to burn in flames and Altair had no choice but to watch it fester until only ashes remain. When he reached the stables, he tied the reins to the post with hurried yet precise knots. And Altair ran and ran. Up the slope leading to the manor, past the building where the workers were happily interacting with another until he felt himself bumping into someone. He brushed off a concerned Mikasa shouting at him to slow down. Minutes later, Levi passed by the fretting young woman, the latter asking if Altair was alright. But the onyx-haired boy finally reached the safe confines of their manor, passing by the opened double doors. He started pacing around the living room.

Altair buried his hands in his hair, his accent coming out as he rambled. “This isn’t going the way he expected it to. Bonkers, this is a mess! I’m just a kid and I couldn’t handle everything at once. Now, Mum’s getting married to a person I don’t know and Dad is tying the knot with Cindy—Cassandra—whatever!” He leaned on the back of an armchair, body slumping on the plush cushion. “And I don’t even know Dad as much as he does. How am I supposed to fix this?”

“What are you trying to fix?” Petra suddenly appeared in the armchair. (She was there all along but she figured that by keeping quiet, she will learn more about why Altair acted strangely since he came home.) The redhead stood up, arms crossed on her chest. “Do you want to share something with the class, Al?”

Altair jumped back, placing a hand on top of his pounding heart. “You gave me a fright, Petra.”

Petra leaned back with an expression of disbelief. “What? Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk to me about? If you’re scared of your dad finding out your secrets right now, you can always tell me.” Altair remained silent as he stared wide-eyed at the nanny and housekeeper. “Care to explain to me why Captain doesn’t like you anymore when he has been with you since you were a toddler? Or how you can’t open the doors properly? Even your appetite change this morning. I have so many questions, Al, and it all stemmed from when you came home. Do you know something we don’t?”

The boy shrugged. That didn’t seem to alleviate the suspiciousness he carried. “I just changed over the summer, that’s all.”

Petra slowly took a step forward and tilted her head down to meet Altair’s eyes. “I’m starting to think you were raised …” She shook her head to dispel the thought and turned around to make herself busy in the kitchen. “That’s impossible. Never mind. I must be needing sleep from all these theories.”

“I am raised by who, Petra?”

She waved her hand to dismiss the question. “Forget it, Al. I’m not supposed to talk to you about this anyway.”

“Like I’m raised by [Name] [Last Name]? Like I’m the other half of one pair of twins?”

The redhead tensed at the question, her smile frozen in place. She managed to blink herself outside of her stupor, slowly regarding the onyx-haired boy, who was gradually turning into an image of you. Those eyes, though sharing Levi’s stormy irises, were reminiscent of your kind ones — always appearing as soft as they can be despite the intensity of a present glare. Petra was at a loss for words and she had to clear her throat a couple of times to find her voice. “How do you know her full name? How do you know that you have a twin, Al? How do you know about—?”

“About Caelum?” The boy pursed his lips, forcing himself to smile. He dropped the act because there was no use continuing their charade any further. Besides, this is Petra, the most loyal person from what he could observe during a full day in the Ackerman estate. She reminded him of Oluo, the way they stuck to each parent almost every day. His British accent came out when he said the next words, “That’s because I am Caelum.”

If this wasn’t a serious situation, Caelum would’ve laughed at Petra’s reaction.

“Altair?!”

Levi looked around when he stepped foot on the patio. However, he was surprised at the peculiar scenario welcoming him in the living room — it was as if Petra was looking at his son for the first time in years. The redhead had both hands covering her mouth, tears prickling her eyes, and an expression showing disbelief. He rose an eyebrow in incredulity because nobody paid him any attention. With measured footsteps, Levi placed a hand on his son’s shoulders, making the boy jump a few inches in the air.

“Hey, buddy,” his voice was so soft since his boy looked shaken up just as much as Petra, “why did you take off on me like that? I told you I wanted to talk to you about something.” His son looked up at him with wide eyes so Levi expectantly glanced at Petra. The woman was still silent with that constipated look on her face. “Petra, do you need to take a shit? Why are you looking at Al like that?”

Caelum was breathing heavily, eyes pleading with Petra to let him tell Levi the truth.

With a subtle nod, Petra wiped her eyes and turned to Levi, who had his face scrunched in perplexity. “Like what? I’m not looking at him in a special way.” She shrugged but with one look at the bright-eyed boy beside her friend, her voice started to falter. “I’m looking at him like I’ve looked at him for eleven years. Since the day he came home from the hospital, all wrapped up and squirming for contact with his parents.” Petra looked like she could cry any minute. (Levi was staring at her like she had grown a second head. He was ready to give her a day-off.) “Seven pounds, five ounces, 21 inches long. This is how I look at him.”

Caelum felt himself smile as Petra gestured at him.

“Can I hug him?”

Levi blinked and stayed silent for a second. He lifted his hand from his son’s shoulder and stepped back since Petra wrapped the boy in a tight hug. He felt the back of an armchair behind him, leaning against it with a sigh. “Everybody’s so weird.”

As the woman continued hugging Caelum, she exclaimed, “Oh, he’s so beautiful and he’s grown so much.” The boy nuzzled his head on the crook of his nanny’s neck, a large smile painted on his face.

For once in his life, Levi wanted to sleep the day off. Maybe everything might go back to normal.

Petra pulled away from the hug, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. She pointed at Caelum while trying to control her voice from shaking. “I’m going to make you something special to eat. What do you feel like eating? Anything? You know what?” She waved her hand once she reached the entrance of the kitchen. “I’ll just whip up something from everything we’ve got, okay?” With a last nod and an apologetic smile directed at Levi, Petra went to the kitchen whilst wiping her tears, leaving behind the two Ackermans’.

Now that heartfelt moment ended, Levi knew he had to tell his son what’s weighing on his mind for the past years. All it took were eight weeks for him to steel himself in making a choice he won’t come to regret. If only he had done this when you gave him your back, a baby looking like him snug in your arms and reaching out to a father he won’t come to have. If only he had chased you to London, fighting for your love in front of your parents, promising a life filled with enough luxury for your newfound family. If only he had the strength back then, none of this would’ve happened. So Levi gently directed his son to the couches, sitting in front of the boy on the low table. Their gazes matched each other and it looked like Levi was staring at his younger self.

“We have to talk.” The onyx-haired man’s voice was so soft, matching his visage that was contorted in slight wariness and expectation.

Caelum nodded. “Okay. Shoot, Dad.”

Levi nodded back. “I’ve been thinking about this since you were a toddler and this summer was the only time I could focus on debating with myself on it.” He took a deep breath, his heart thundering in his chest, and his cheeks burning. “Al, I want to get back together with your mom.”

The whole world stopped. Caelum stopped breathing for a few seconds. There was a lack of emotions inside him at first, him just staring like an idiot at Levi. Suddenly, he felt like jumping but that would look suspicious so Caelum abruptly stood up in front of his dad, tingles traveling in every fiber of his body.

“Al?” Levi asked, confused at the constipated look on his little boy.

Bright gray eyes stared back at Levi, Caelum’s grin erasing every doubt in his father’s body. “This is perfect, Dad!”

“It is?” The onyx-haired man trailed off before perking up a little, a small grin tugging his mouth upwards. “Yeah, it is. I decided that I will do everything right this time and have our family back again.” He looked down wistfully on the floor, fingers wringing with each other. He murmured under his breath, “I wonder how Caelum’s doing right now. Will he like me? I’m not exactly awarded with the best father of the year title.”

On the other hand, Caelum heard it and he couldn’t help but grin knowingly. He erased that on his face when Levi looked up at him. “So, Dad, what are you going to do about Cindy?”

“What about the publicist?”

Caelum sat back down, leaning forward to enunciate his next words. “Well, it’s quite obvious that she’s so enamored by you.”

Levi scoffed a disdainful laugh. “Why would she? I’m not interested in her in some way. I don’t even like women her age.”

“That’s the thing, Dad. I heard from her yesterday that you’re planning on telling me something. I figured it would involve her since she suggested it. It might be a different thing than what you told me right now.”

“Oh, that. I decided, with the help of Petra and the other workers, that you will be the face of the tea shop. Since I am not too comfortable with the idea of having my pictures posted on every branch, a majority vote prompted you to do the job. But Mikasa suggested that we also do that by putting you in the new label design. It doesn’t have to have your face on it, just your silhouette. I think Isabelle will do that well enough.”

“So,” Caelum prolonged the word, “you’re not engaged to her, right?”

Levi looked ready to barf his lunch. “What? Where the hell did you get that idea?”

A sheepish smile prevented the laugh that was bubbling in Caelum’s chest. “I tend to overthink at times, Dad.”

The silver-eyed man sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You get that from me.”

“I asked you that because yesterday, she told me you proposed to her because you wanted me to have a mother figure. She even told me you dated because you liked her at first sight. She mentioned that you went horseback riding in the sunset like a typical chick flick pairing and there you confessed that you felt lonely because Mom left you. Oh, I mustn’t forget how you reciprocated her feelings under a moonlit night. Hey, Dad, where are you going? Dad?”

“Don’t mind me, Al, I’m killing a bitch this afternoon and it’s best if you stay put while I do that.”

“Dad?!”

Cynthia Maryland is a fucking menace to society.

It has been so long since Levi met a person who just by talking, brain cells are diminishing at every word they utter. The first one who made him feel this way was a genius, however, they were too much for his social battery. They always hung off of him at times during college all because they were your childhood friend, who followed you to America to make you feel like you had someone in a foreign country back then. That was seen as endearing but this time, it’s fucking irritating. Levi didn’t even have to control himself from showing how much he wanted this meeting to be over.

“Miss Maryland, can you please listen to me for one second?” Levi spat out, the stress coming to him in a migraine.

“I am listening, doll, and I guess those plans with Altair didn’t happen because you have me in your office — doors closed and just the two of us,” Cynthia spoke in a sultry voice that didn’t have any effect on the man slumped on his chair. “I will do anything for you, Mr. Ackerman.”

“Thank God for that.”

Cynthia was over the stars at that statement.

“Because I believe it’s time for your job as my shop’s publicist to be terminated. So I suggest getting out of here.”

“What?!” The brunette all but shrieked.

At the commotion, a knock resonated in the room. “Levi, is everything all right in there?” Mikasa asked. “Do you need me to restrain her?”

“No need, Mikasa,” Levi answered, not looking away from the distressed woman squawking in front of him. “Hey, Maryland, what are you whining about? Didn’t you hear what I just said? You’re fired. What are you still doing here?”

“Pray tell, why are you firing me?! You need me!”

Levi rose an eyebrow. “Why would I need you when I have capable people working on the plantation right now? It was a mistake hiring you. Eld was actually the one who wanted to have a publicist for the tea shops and if my secretary said it would be beneficial to the business, I will always say yes. But I guess he hired the wrong person. As for the question of why I fired you, let’s just say, you were spewing things that weren’t even true. And of all people, you said those things to my son. What are you trying to gain from telling him we’re fucking engaged? Money? My last name?”

The brunette remained silent, angry tears dripping on her cheeks.

“Let me tell you this, Miss Maryland, you’re not worth those things. So if you don’t want me to get fucking angry at you, get the fuck out.”

While the whole debacle with Cynthia was happening in Levi’s office, Caelum was in the kitchen rolling a pin over a chunk of dough. The silver-eyed boy was helping Petra with the afternoon snacks, something that the nanny suggested since Caelum looked bored out of his mind, staring into the high ceiling of the living room while lying on the long couch. Only half an hour passed since Levi stormed into his office, demanding Eld to contact ‘that hysterical fucking woman’, and only two batches of apple turnovers were ready for the oven. There were a lot of workers on the plantation, all of them having big appetites, so Caelum and Petra had a lot of work to do.

Caelum just finished his story of meeting Altair for the first time and his shoulders felt so light after spilling everything out.

Petra pensively gave Caelum a wistful glance. “I’m happy that you two found each other.”

The boy looked up at the redhead. An air of earnest gratitude exuded from her, the idea of two twins reuniting was worth being happy about. Petra wasn’t the only one thanking the moon and stars for granting a request, Caelum felt like his world expanded because of that summer camp. “I am happy, too. I got to meet you, Mikasa, and the workers. I want this stay to last longer than a day but Al and I will eventually go back to our rightful homes.”

“Why are you being sad, kiddo? Didn’t Levi tell you that he’s planning on courting your mom again?”

“That’s the thing,” Caelum mumbled. The dough became too thin to wrap around apple fillings at the force he was pressing down on the rolling pin. He sighed, starting over again. “Mum is engaged to someone in London. I can’t even do anything about it.”

Petra hummed casually. “But Altair can.” Beside her, Caelum once again shifted his attention from the dough to her side profile, making her smile. “One thing I know about Al through the years is that he will do everything to make his plan a success. That brother of yours is a stubborn kid but he’s determined to fulfill his goal, which so happens to be what Levi’s planning, too.” She placed the knife on the cutting board, leaving the apples unattended, and faced Caelum with a half-smile. “How about this, you want to make this a success?”

Caelum nodded.

“Then tell your dad who you really are.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “No!” He looked down, cursing himself for raising his voice at Petra. “I mean, he’ll be mad for sure.”

The redhead chuckled before pointing a ladle at Caelum. “That’s where you’re wrong. Levi was always praying every night to have a glimpse of his other son across the sea. Now that you’re here, you’ll be giving him the happiness he always wanted for eleven years. He deserves to hug you, knowing who you are.”

This is how Caelum found himself standing in front of Levi’s bedroom. It was inevitable anyway — his dad finding out his real identity. Letting out a sigh, Caelum twisted the doorknob with clammy hands, opening the door to the image of Levi reading a book on his bed. The boy smiled when Levi looked up at the sound of the door opening.

Levi took off his reading glasses and smiled. “Hey, kiddo, come in.” He lifted his covers as an invitation for the tentative boy. When Caelum got on the bed, Levi placed his book on the nightstand along with his glasses. For a moment, he only looked at his son with soft eyes as Caelum adjusted the duvet to cover his lap. He pulled him close with an arm around the boy’s shoulders, letting Caelum relax against him. “Did you have a nightmare?” Levi felt his son shake his head. “Is something bothering you?” At the silence, Levi looked down on Caelum's onyx hair. He kissed the side of the boy’s head. “I hope you will feel better once we spend the rest of the day tomorrow.”

“I can’t, Dad, I’m sorry.” It was a low murmur that Levi had to crane his head to hear. “I have to go somewhere tomorrow.”

“And where will this somewhere be? Is Mikasa going with you? Or did Petra invite you to go get the groceries?”

The silver-eyed boy squirmed out of Levi’s hold, burying himself in the think blankets.

“Al? Are you feeling unwell? Kiddo?” Levi tried tickling his son’s sides but was only met with muffled laughs. “Al.”

A British accent enveloped the words Caelum uttered next, “That’s where I’m going! I have to go see Altair.”

“And where might Altair be?”

A pause. “In London.” Levi froze. “With his mum, [Name] [Last Name].”

It was as if cold water surrounded Levi, dunking him in a fever dream. It was too good to be true. Of all the surprises he received for the day, this is by far the most responsible for taking away his voice and steady breathing. He couldn’t think properly at the revelation. So this was the reason why Petra looked like she saw the boy for the first time because she did, after eleven years. His heartbeat echoed through his chest, making a duet with his clattering mind. Levi didn’t know what to do. Should he embrace the son he never got to hug in almost twelve years or should he stay quiet and let the night go on, pretending that this was a dream? His eyes started to burn with unshed tears as he carefully lifted the edge of the duvet off the small figure lying beside him. There was no way this was happening. But as he finally got a glimpse of his son staring up at him, eye shape boring some similarities to yours, Levi let out a shaky breath.

“Caelum?”

Caelum sat up. “Yes, Dad?”

Levi’s vision became blurry, arms instantly wrapping around Caelum. He hugged him tightly, worried that this might be a trick of his loneliness, that this was Altair pretending to be his twin to make him happy. But no. He knew Altair like the back of his hand and if he hugged him like this, the little brat would whine at the long physical contact. This was Caelum, hands gentle like yours as they patted his back. He didn’t know he was crying until Caelum rubbed rhythmic circles on his back to calm him down.

“Al and I met at camp and we decided to switch places.” His breath hitched, nuzzling his head on Levi’s chest. “Dad, I’ve dreamt my whole life of finally meeting you. Seeing you waiting at the airport nearly made me cry because you were exactly like Mum’s vague stories. And Al wanted to meet Mum as well so we sort of made the switch impulsively.”

Levi pulled away, a smile present on his face. “Who exactly made this plan?”

“Never in my life would I suggest switching places with my twin. I told Al this is an idiotic plan yet here we are.”

Levi snorted a laugh. “Of course it’s Al’s idea.”

“But Dad …”

“Hmm?” The man waited patiently for his little heaven to speak up.

“I hope you’re not raging at the moment because I love you so much and I just hope that one day, you will love me as me — not as a mirror image of Al.”

Levi pulled Caelum again in a hug, kissing the boy on the crown of his head. “Did you know I was the one who named you?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Since your mom named Altair after a star, I thought it would be best if you were named after the realm the star is situated. You’re my little heaven, Cae, and nothing can change that. I’ve loved you your whole life. Stop being a mopey little brat — I meant that term in the most endearing way possible because your mother was the original one, she was my pain in the ass — and give your dad another hug.”

Caelum felt like he forgot something, choosing this moment to never mention you being engaged to someone and instead chose to let his dad’s warm hugs lull him to sleep.

taglist:

@loveprisms @halparkebitch @omlbarnes @a--nonymousse @nunufx @misslovingpearl @megumiisee @whalerus

just give me an ask if you want to be added to the taglist !!

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #rorywrites #modern au #the parent trap #shingeki no kyojin #dad!levi

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adhd-disaster-willie · 4 years ago

Text

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 2/6

Chapter 1

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death (very brief, not graphic)

Notes: Yes it is six chapters now lmao

---

Alex is one month, 4 breakdowns, and probably $100 worth of coffee (even with his employee discount) into his first semester of college and more than prepared for his daily screaming into a pillow session. He stumbles into his dorm, but comes to a screeching halt as soon as the door closes behind him.

“You’re painting the walls.”

Willies spins around, narrowly avoiding falling off his step stool, and gives Alex a lopsided grin. “Wonderful observation,” he quips, hopping down with a paintbrush still in his hand.

“You- you can’t do that.” Alex gapes at him, dumbfounded.

“Ah, can’t I?” Willie raises his eyebrows, smiling. His cheeks are flushed and his hair has been haphazardly pulled up, flyaways falling to frame his face. Alex shakes himself from his reverie. This is not the time to be admiring Willie, idiot.

“No- that’s… that’s against the rules,” Alex says desperately. “The RA lives like, right next door.”

“He’s colorblind,” Willie reassures Alex. “And a homophobic asshole.”

“He’s- what? I…” Alex runs his hands over his face, breathing in deeply. “Okay. Okay. Uh, why are you painting the walls?”

Willie settles into the couch, humming thoughtfully. “I was working on that one essay but couldn’t focus because-” he waves his hands around his head vaguely, like that’s supposed to explain his thoughts. “-and then I remembered that there was a sale at Home Depot so here we are.”

Alex looks up at the wall, trying to ignore the anxiety clutching at his chest like mistletoe to a tree. It’s fine, it’ll be fine. “Why blue?” His voice comes out much less calm than he’d hoped.

“It’s my favorite color,” Willie replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m only painting that one wall anyway, the sale was just for the mini paint buckets. I think a pop of color is nice, y’know?” He jerks his hands in the direction of the wall, grinning.

“You’re gonna have us killed,” Alex states simply. “I’m gonna be expelled and have to crash at Julie’s again and I won’t have a college education and the band is gonna fail and I’ll be uneducated and living on the streets.”

“Woah, hey.” Wille stands up, face knitted with worry. He sets a hand on Alex’s shoulder, steadying him. “Dude, I didn’t know it would freak you out. Shit, uh, I can paint over it. Really, it was stupid and impulsive.”

Alex shakes his head. “No, no it’s fine. It’s just-” In for 4, out for 8, deep breaths Alex. “Just stupid anxiety, I’m overthinking.”

Willie tilts his head to the side slightly. “Yea? You sure you’re cool with it?”

And he really is… cool with it, at least sort of. Apparently there’s an override switch in his brain that makes it so of something makes Willie happy, Alex can’t help but be okay with it. Huh. That’s new.

“Um…” Now that his brain is less foggy, Alex is realizing that Willie is like… really close. “Uh, yea. Just… don’t go painting any murals in the bathroom.”

Willie laughs loudly, throwing his head back and bouncing slightly on his heels. Alex’s gaze rakes over his face, golden sunlight seeping through the window and dancing across Willie’s cheeks. There’s a certain comfort to the way the sun comes through the window each evening. Miraculously, their dorm is positioned in an odd way that gives them a west and east facing window; and the way the light drapes over Willie is different at sunset compared to sunrise. It’s looser, makes him look free and like he keeps the sun right in his pocket, only letting it out when Alex is near. Stupidly, Alex thinks he wouldn’t have much trouble forgiving any future bathroom murals. One month, they’ve known each other for a month and Alex is already waxing poetic about him. He scolds himself internally.

“Tell you what,” Willie starts, stepping back and gesturing vaguely. “I’ll buy you a coffee to make up for it.”

“Dude it’s like 5pm,” Alex reasons, but his resolve is already dwindling at the sight of Willie’s playful grin.

“And? It’s the weekend.” Willie tosses an arm over Alex’s shoulders, sticking his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout. “It’s just coffee.”

“Remind me what happened last time you drank coffee.”

Willie sighs mournfully. “We do not speak of the carnation incident.”

“Right,” Alex chuckles. “Okay. Fine. But no more painting the walls.”

“Aye aye captain!” Willie gives a theatrical salute before waltzing out the door with Alex at his heels.

5:30pm in late September means it’s just chilly enough to wear jeans instead of shorts and just sunny enough to see light slipping through the trees and grass. Willie seems to be a magnet for the sunlight, leading it in a subtle dance as they walk across campus. Alex follows the way his hair sways in the light breeze, painted in a sheet of gold and bronze, like it’s been dipped in a liquid campfire. He wonders if his heartbeat is synced to the rhythm of Willie’s feet, marveling at how each step seems to send a ripple through Alex’s entire body. It’s unfair, the way the evening sun makes everything seem softer and more poetic, and Alex thinks that he could write an entire song about the way Willie glances over at him with a teasing smile. In a- a friend way of course. Because everyone thinks about how beautiful their friends look while walking. Of course.

Willie turns to Alex with his head tilted slightly. His expression is frustratingly unreadable. There’s blue paint brushed across the bridge of his nose and his left cheekbone, like his skin is stained with bits of the sky and Alex has a weird urge to bring his hand up and brush it away, but also a weird desire for that paint to be there forever; it suits Willie. His eyes, shining amber in the light, glance over Alex’s face and Alex feels like he’s being put under a spotlight except Willie’s the only person in the audience. Willie finally speaks his mind, his voice gentle. “Your hair looks golden in this light”

Alex feels his entire face go pink and he almost squeaks “You can’t just say those things!” But his tongue seems to be caught in the back of his throat so he opts for a mortified smile before turning to focus on the sidewalk right ahead of him. Willie doesn’t elaborate, or pressure Alex into responding, and they lapse back into a comfortable silence.

It isn’t until they’re just outside the coffeeshop that Alex comes to what is probably a mildly important realization. Bobby’s working right now. Bobby, Carrie’s cousin who’s known Alex as long as Luke and Reggie have, occasionally plays with the band, and has been involved in too many conversations about a certain long-haired skater. Alex’s stomach fills with an unmistakable dread at this thought.

“Alex? You good?” Willie bumps their shoulders and shoots him a smile that’s soft around the edges. “You can just get tea if you’re that anxious about the coffee.”

“No,” Alex chuckles, attempting to mask his stilted breathing. “It’s fine, coffee’s a good idea anyway. I need to stay up and practice that one horrible drum solo my professor insists I perfect.”

“And you have to do that tonight?”

“Yea, the band has a gig on Sunday so Luke’s probably gonna lock me in the studio to rehearse all of tomorrow.”

Willie giggles bubbily, his eyes squinting in the way that makes Alex’s stomach flip. Alex opens the door and a stupid piece of his mind itches to grab Willie’s hand to pull him in. He doesn’t.

Alex likes his workplace. The lights are warm and drape like a blanket over the building, the walls are decked in posters and paintings and vinyls, the windows are clothed with too many plants to count, and the chairs are the type you can just melt into and fall asleep. If he was still religious, he’d thank god for the fact that he was able to score a job here instead of a stiff, concrete chain store. The place is owned by the sweetest middle-aged lesbian couple who like to bring their cats by and let Alex take home leftover food when he has the closing shift. He likes it, and finding a customer service job Alex enjoys is like finding a needle in a haystack. And yet, his whole body is buzzing with nerves. He loves Bobby, he does, but the boy is just as fond of teasing Alex as Luke and Reggie are, and of course Willie had to pick right now.

Willie’s grinning as soon as he processes his surroundings. “Dude you didn’t tell me this place was so cool!” He grips Alex’s forearm excitedly and Alex’s entire brain just… short circuits. He’s sure Willie’s gushing about the mural on the back wall, because he has the awestruck and giddy expression he always gets when talking about art or skateboarding, but Alex’s brain is not registering a single thing Willie says.

Alex hears a loud and deliberate cough and is swiftly pulled from his mind, realizing three things: He is blatantly staring at Willie with a smile he doesn’t even want to see, Willie is still holding onto his arm and rambling, and Bobby is looking on with an expression that tells Alex that there is most certainly a new picture on his phone that will make for wonderful blackmail material.

“Alex, who could this be?” Bobby asks, and of course he’s the one with a scary good poker face because Alex almost believes that he truly is clueless.

Willie lets go of Alex’s arm, a cruel trick of the light making it look like he’s blushing. He gives Bobby a wave. “That’d be me. I’m Willie, Alex’s roommate.”

“Oh!” Bobby smiles innocently. “The famous Willie!”

“Famous?” Willie cocks an eyebrow at Alex. “You talk about me, hotdog?”

“Hotdog?” Bobby gives Alex an expression identical to Willie’s, but laced with mischief instead of fondness. Alex has an inexplicable urge to flee.

“Let’s just get our drinks,” Alex squeaks, herding Willie up to the counter and sneaking a death glare at Bobby on the way over.

“Hmm, and what’ll that be?” Bobby asks, making a point to plaster on his customer service smile.

“Medium cold brew with cinnamon almond-milk foam for me and a medium green tea for Willie, decaf.”

Willie looks at Alex incredulously. “You know my tea order?”

“It’s- it’s all you drink!” Alex squeaks defensively, picking at the collar of his shirt because when did it get so warm?

Bobby snickers. “Okay, one pretentious-ass cold brew and a horribly boring tea.”

Willie goes to pay, chuckling under his breath.

“Your drinks should be ready shortly, by the way Alex, I like this one,” Bobby snickers.

“Oookay!” Alex blurts, dragging Willie from the counter in hopes that he didn’t hear the last bit of Bobby’s sentence. His cheeks are burning as he directs them to his favorite corner of the shop. There are two chairs nestled in the corner, partially hidden by a rickety bookshelf and a wall of plants that hang down and will occasionally brush against the chair’s occupant. In the mornings, the sun shines through in a way that makes the chairs perfect for curling up like a cat seeking warmth. Alex sinks down into the seat nearest to the wall with a contented sigh and shuts his eyes, humming softly. “This is my favorite chair,” he mutters, eyes still closed.

“Hmm.” Willie’s response sounds odd, so Alex cracks open one eye only to find Willie sat in the chair beside him, elbows on the armrest closest to Alex, his chin resting in his palms. He’s looking at Alex with his lips curled into an almost wistful smile and suddenly Alex feels awfully overwhelmed. “It’s a very nice chair,” Willie says, leaning back to relax his head against the cushion and swinging his legs over the arm rest. Alex almost mourns his gaze, but he quickly shakes that feeling. It’s silly.

A gentle breeze drifts in through the window, which is always open slightly at this time of year, when it’s not too hot and not too cold out. Alex’s nose wrinkles, feeling the plant hanging above his head dance across his face in response to the wind. He hears Willie giggle beside him and he whips around, definitely not pouting. “What?”

“You made a face,” Willie responds, gesturing to his own face and mimicking Alex’s previous expression. “It was cu- it was uh, funny.” Willie goes red for a split second, but Alex writes it off as the heat and is about to ask if he wants the window closed when Bobby comes walking up, drinks in hand.

“I’m obligated by contract to warn you, Willie, that Alex with caffeine past 3 is never a sight you want to behold,” Bobby says, handing them their drinks and pulling up a chair to sit across from them.

“There is no such contract,” Alex protests. “And you’re exaggerating.” He takes a sip of his coffee, glaring at Bobby from behind the cup.

“Maybe not a formal one.” Bobby turns to face Willie now. “Seriously, caffeine at night makes him emotional for some reason.”

“Liar!”

“No dog movies when Alex has coffee at night, he’ll be sobbing for hours, even if the dog lives.”

“Noted,” Willie says, laughing. Alex contemplates kicking Bobby.

“Hey Bobbers, remember that time when you tried jumping an electric fence half naked because you got caught sneaking into a pool at night to impress a girl?”

Bobby blinks, his expression uncaring. “You cannot embarrass me,” he says. “I have no shame whatsoever.”

“Of course you don’t,” Alex grumbles.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Willie-”

“We should get back before dark!” Alex interrupts. He grabs Willie’s hand and all but shoves him from the shop, shouting at Bobby the whole way to prevent him from saying anything more to embarrass him.

Willie looks up at Alex, clearly amused, and they begin the walk back to their dorm. “Bobby seems nice,” He says nonchalantly.

Alex groans loudly. “No, no he’s terrible. He is one of my best friends and I despise him.”

Willie nods, sipping his tea. “Your friends are all pretty cool.”

“Yea… yea they’re great.” Alex pauses, sighing. “I don’t know where I’d be without them. The streets, probably,” Alex snorts bitterly at the last bit. It doesn’t cross his mind that Willie hasn’t been filled in on this. He doesn’t want to get into it. Willie seems to get the hint, brushing the confusion from his face in favor of looking up at the sky.

“I’ve always wished I was better at landscape paintings,” Willie whispers, his tone practically reverent. “Some people can just… capture every detail and emotion in- in sunsets and what-not. And it’s- it’s insane!” He gestures wildly with his hands as he talks, tea threatening to spill everywhere. “I can do abstract just fine, it’s my favorite. But my landscapes are always so… bland. I wish I could paint the feeling behind it as much as the plain details.”

Alex has seen his landscapes, and thinks them far from bland, but he doesn’t say anything. Willie has a way of turning the most horrifically boring pieces into storms of color and emotion, and Alex thinks that each brushstroke holds a piece of his soul. But he keeps his mouth shut.

“The sunset is nice,” Willie says. “I love when the clouds are pink like this. My mom used to-” he laughs nostalgically, remembering something. “-she used to tell me stories about the clouds. They all had their own personalities and lives and families. She would sit at her easel, painting the clouds, and I would be at her feet just… absolutely mesmerized.” There’s a certain shine in Willie’s eyes that Alex hasn’t seen before; it’s bittersweet and sort of disconnected. “And somehow… somehow she could show the cloud’s personalities in the paintings. I wish I could do that. She was the one who made me love art; I remember when I got my first skateboard, I stayed up for hours painting the bottom and I was so proud of it. And after I grew out of it she... she hung it on the wall above the mantel and would tell everyone who saw it how awesome it was”

Willie’s taken on a new demeanor, and Alex realizes this is the first time he’s spoken about his parents. “She seems amazing,” Alex mutters, voice quiet like he’s afraid of breaking something.

“Yea,” Willie replies. “She… she was.” He lets out a shaky breath. Oh. “She was a single mom, I never knew my father, never had the chance to ask about him. She died in a car crash when I was 14, I’ve lived with my uncle Caleb since.”

“Oh. Willie I-”

“It’s fine. I miss her, but it’s been four years y’know? I’m not… shrouded in grief like I used to be.” He gives Alex a genuine smile to prove it, and bumps their shoulder together. “C’mon, we’re almost home.”

Home. Home used to be Luke and Reggie and Julie, now… now Alex isn’t quite sure. College still feels new and different, and he often feels like his doesn’t belong. His dorm doesn’t feel much like home, it feels like a hotel room, like he’s a guest. But Willie… Willie feels more like home than anything in that dorm. Willie and his stupid blue wall and his long rambling and loud laughing. Home is Luke and Reggie and Julie and Willie, and that’s completely and utterly terrifying to Alex.

---

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

Notes: This chapter was gonna be longer but I felt like that was a good place to leave off. I hope you liked it :)))

Taglist: @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years ago

Text

Milk

A/n: This was not requested but I hope you feel better piper <3 I love you! This is for you :) (This is not thoroughly edited like always)

Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @yangomangos @jeonqqin @geminirules @crscendoforsung @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @kodzu-ken @skzwriternet

Warnings: just fluffy shy seungmin

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: After moving into a apartment building, Y/n finds a new friend in the stray cat in the alley behind her. She doesn’t realize someone has been admiring her kindness to the animal from afar. Sometimes a small act of kindness leads to a happiness that can last a life time.

Genre: fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, neighbor!au, fem reader

⋇

Living in a tiny rundown apartment building was not my first choice. Nor was it my second or third or fourth or fifth or two hundredth. But being a struggling student living on my own for the first time didn’t leave me with many other options. The room was cheap and had all the amenities I needed. There was a bus line to the college only a short walk away. An added bonus was the fried chicken place just a few blocks away from the building.

But, the heating often cut out. My landlord was less than kind. The couple living above me procreated like rabbits and the ceiling did nothing to muffle the noise. The neighbors next door were quiet for the most part. I had yet to meet the tenants in the rooms on either side.

With the spring semester just around the corner, students flocked to the class registers. Spots filled up quickly leaving me with early morning classes. What a bummer. I was not the biggest morning person. I preferred to stay up at night and sleep until I physically couldn't anymore.

Sleepily pulling my shoes on, I grabbed my backpack and walked out the door. The sun had just risen and a still orange pink glow was cast over the small cramped street. A small sound had me turning my head towards the alley next to my apartment building.

Having a few minutes to spare before my bus arrived, I peeked around the corner searching for the sound. Just as I was about to turn around, a cat peeked its head out from behind the building’s dumpster. It slinked around the metal container, its thin body shifting from side to side as it walked.

“Hi, there little guy!”

Slowly and carefully I approached the stray. It had spotted gray and white fur practically clinging onto its bones. It watched me with fear in its dull blue eyes. The small creature flinched as I reached out my hand for it to smell. It eyed me for a few moments before backing away and hiding under the dumpster.

“Okay bud...that’s okay. When I come back I’ll bring you a little treat!”

As I was walking away, a sound from above made me jump. Looking up I saw a window on my story close, long slender fingers pulling it in. Thinking nothing of it I turned around and made my way to the bus stop. In my mind I made a mental note to pick something up to give to the little cat in the alley.

⋇

The shop bell rang as I exited the establishment. It was already beginning to get dark and the streetlights were casting a yellow golden glow in circles on the cramped street. Plastic bag in hand I walked back towards home, the scent of fresh fried chicken floating up to my nose.

As I approached the building instead of going in I walked passed and turned down into the alley. The street lamp cast a small glow allowing me to see through some of the dark shadows.

“Here kitty kitty! Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Hearing a can roll across the pavement I saw the thin feline emerge from under the trash container. Its ears twitched and its nose rose in the air smelling the fried food I carried. Crouching to its level I stayed in the lightest part of the alley and pulled out a piece of the fried chicken I had picked up only a few minutes ago.

Intriguided by the food, the cat slowly inched its way to the oustretched snack. It sniffed the chicken before it’s pale pink nose brushed over my finger taking in my scent. Staying perfectly still I let it nibble on the chicken for a moment. “You’re too cute.” Seeing the cat begin to struggle with the food, I pulled it back and starting tearing it into pieces for him.

“What should I call you little guy?”

The cat’s fear of me seemed to have disappeared as he snacked on the chicken. Hesitantly, I reached out and stroked his head only receiving a tiny flinch from the animal. “You’re quite small aren’t you?” The cat continued to eat the chicken with vigor. Grabbing a bottle of water and a paper plate from the restaurant, I poured some for the cat to drink. “How about Makki?”

The gray cat already looked much happier than when I had first seen him this morning. As I reached out to stroke his fur, he did not flinch away. “Do you like chicken Makki?” He let out a gravely meow before turning back to his grand meal.

My fingers felt the grooves of his ribs as I pet his side. I smiled feeling Makki’s rough tongue over my other hand. My attention was dragged away from the cat when I heard the scuff of a shoe not far away. At the entrance of the alley looked a boy maybe my age. His body faced the building but his eyes stayed trained on me over the black mask he wore.

His shaggy brown hair had a golden glint under the street light. His hands were tucked firmly in his jean pockets giving him a cold sort of look. Lifting my hand from Makki’s back I shyly waved to the boy. As if he came out of a trance, the boy walked away from the alley on his resumed path.

Choosing to ignore the awkward encounter (I admit that it would be weird to see a girl just sitting in an alley with a cat), I watched Makki finish off the pieces I tore. He rubbed up against my legs and let me scratched his ears.

“Okay, Makki! I’ve got an essay to write. I’ll bring you some breakfast tomorrow, okay buddy?” With a sad meow, he tried to follow me out of the alley but sat at the entrance and watched me walk into the building. I watched him list his head from the alley and gave him a little wave goodbye before going in for the night.

⋇

After a few months of taking care of him, Makki was basically my own. Every morning and every night without fail I would stop by and spend time with Makki. When I could afford it, I brought him chicken. He seemed to always love that.

As finals inched closer, I couldn’t see him as much as I wanted to. Studying took up most of my nights and I was forced inside my tiny apartment, headphones only half blocking out the noise from the faulty pipes and my upstairs neighbors.

One night I glanced over at the clock seeing it was only 10:00 pm. “I have some left overs I’m sure Makki would like.” Aware that I needed a break, I got up and stretched before heating up some leftover dinner for my little cat. Slowly he had gotten to a healthy size and I could no longer see his ribs under his spotted gray and white coat. I didn’t have to keep feeding him, but Makki seemed like my only friend as of late.

Grabbing a bowl and filling it with water I ventured downstairs and into the lobby. A slightly familiar face was entering the building doors, keys in hand. He looked up, our eyes meeting. Those dark, almost black, eyes looked familiar, reminding me of a puppy. The brunette’s eyes widened in recognition seeing me. The boy from the street. He had a handsome face, the light locks highlighting the angles and tone of his features. In all honesty he was more than likely the most handsome man I had ever seen.

He looked me up and down before his soft eyes fell onto the dishes in my hand. When his eyes returned he gave me a small smile and a hesitant wave. Without another word he walked past me up the stairs.

Using my shoulder to open the door, the cool spring night air greeted me. My shoes scraped against the downhill pavement as I turned the corner into the alley. To my surprise, Makki sat in the middle of the backstreet, drinking from a saucer full of milk. Beside the bowl was a plate with little pieces of fried food. Inching closer, I saw it was fish.

Someone had already fed him.

“Hey, buddy!” Makki greeted me with a friendly meow brushing up against my legs. “Looks like someone already fed you, huh?” I asked in confusion. No one had ever shown interest in him before. Why had they started to take care of Makki now?

Pursing my lips, I set down the dishes and watched Makki eat and drink, petting him occasionally. “Their supper is a little but better than mine, huh?” He only responded my digging in more to the fish. “I’ll bring you chicken next time, Makki.” I watched him eat the food before the slender cat climbed into my lap, begging for me to pet him.

It was getting late and Makki was practically falling asleep in my lap. I had already asked my landlord if I could bring him inside, but Mr. Kwon hated pets. Carefully putting Makki on the makeshift bed I had made him out of a thrown out chair, I brushed myself off before looking at the mostly clean dishes on the ground.

Logically, whoever fed Makki would have to come back for the dishes. Finding a semi clean piece of paper and grabbing the pen in my pocket I wrote a little note to the kind soul who helped out my little cat. ‘Thank you for taking care of Makki! It means a lot. - Apt.306B’. Placing the note in the dry milk saucer, I left the alley to go back to my essay.

⋇

For the next few nights every time I went down to fed Makki, a bowl of milk and usually a small plate of food was already there. Curiosity eating me up, I decided to catch Makki’s mystery feeder.

The next night, forgoing my term paper, I parked myself at my window overlooking the alley. Finally the sun went down and I watched from my slightly air conditioned perch for the kind soul feeding my feline child. Just as I was losing hope a head of light brown hair rounded the corned into the back alley, a bowl of milk in hand.

“I GOT HIM! YES!” I cheered. “I got you! I got you!” I sang dancing around. Rushing out the door, I took the stairs two at a time just to burst out the lobby doors onto the street. Out of breath but with a smile I rounded the corner, hand holding me steady on the brick wall of the building.

“So it was you!” I said happily, scaring the boy crouched down next to Makki. Those same dark puppy like eyes looked up at me in surprise. He seemed at a loss for words, frozen, long slender fingers over over the cat’s head. “I never would have guessed! I mean that day in the lobby, maybe, but it just didn’t cross my mind.”

The boy continued to stare at me, less in shock now, but the expression I could not decipher. “Um...I’m from apartment 306.” I smiled seeing Maki next to the boy drinking the white treat. Giving him a kind smile, I reached out my hand for him to shake.

Shyly, he took my hand and shook it. “Yeah...I know.” Under the yellow glow of the street light I looked over his handsome features once more. “I’m...uh...I’m 304.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. After all this time, this was how I met my next door neighbor. “Finally I get to meet you. I’ve been wondering who was living next door.” The boy seemed to relax, letting out a small laugh. “What’s your name?”

He seemed surprised as I moved to sit down next to him. Makki climbed into my lap and on instinct I started scratching his ears. “Seungmin, Kim Seungmin. And you?”

“Y/n L/n.”

I laughed as he awkwardly moved to shake my hand again. “He’s really a good cat.” Seungmin said petting Makki’s gray fur. I nodded and turned to see Seungmin already looking at me.

“Why did you start feeding him by the way?”

The handsome boy shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is going to sound way creepy. I swear it was a coincidence.” Urging him to continue with a smile, I continued stroking Makki’s head. Occasionally my arm brushed up against Seungmin’s as it moved. “I actually saw you from my window. Then we ran into each other on the street that night.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question Seungmin.” I would be lying if I said that his smile didn’t make my heart skip a beat. It melted even more seeing him pet the almost sleeping cat in my lap.

“Yeah about that.” His long finger reached up and scratched his brow before returning to Makki’s ears. “That night I just thought you were really, really pretty. I liked seeing how kind you were to the cat and watching you play with him.” His hand accidentally brushed mine and his cheeks reddened. They darkened even more when I didn’t pull away.

“Go on,”

“One day you stopped coming. I figured something came up because you cared about the cat so much. So, I just tried feeding him. I got scratched more than a few times in the beginning.” Seungmin laughed, instinctively rubbing his arms where Makki must have nicked him. “Eventually he warmed up to me and I saw why you loved him so much. Then you left me that note. It was by far the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Well you certainly are not what I expected to find when I wanted to search for Makki’s secret milk source.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever bought so much milk.”

The two of us laughed and continued to sit and talk in the alleyway. “Thank you again, for feeding him while I had term stuff.” Seungmin shrugged and looked over at me.

“It was nothing.” It was hard to stifle the laugh at his attempt of being nonchalant. “You know, I could talk to Mr. Kwon about letting you bring Makki into the building...”

My eyes widened and I instinctively hugged my cat to my chest. “Really! You would do that? Wait- how would you even do that. That man has zero soul. Like no soul at all. Completely soulless.”

He chuckled at my joke, brown hair blowing gently in the night breeze. “I have my ways. If I do...would you do something for me?” His bright smile lit up the night watching me nod excitedly. “Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

Seungmin seemed to hold his breath waiting for my answer. “Are you asking me or are you saying that is your condition for talking to Mr. Kwon?” Seungming squinted his eyes and looked off into the distance for a moment in thought.

“Oh.....you’re right.......You will have dinner with me tomorrow.”

“Woah, slow down there, buddy. I barely know you!”

“Arrrrghhh,” Seungmin groaned covering his face and lying on the cement in frustration. I couldn’t help but laugh at his vexation. “Why is asking you out so hard?”

“I’m just teasing. Of course I’ll get dinner with you.” With a sigh of relief, Seungmin sat up with a smile. “With a face like that who spends that much milk money on someone else’s cat, how could I not want to go out with you?” Seungmin helped me up from the ground, holding onto my hand even when I was standing.

“Good. Cause I was very nervous you’d say no.”

“Look at me. I’ve fallen for the milk man,” Seungmin groaned at my terrible joke but kept out hands intertwined as we walked back into the building with Makki under my arm. I had never been filled with more joy than in that moment.

⋇

Masterlist

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infinitegalahad · 4 years ago

Text

WIFE

Summary: You and Dick, after years of indefinite separation and depression, have finally reunited. Dick can’t wait to start a family with you. You love Dick, but you soon realize that you cannot bear him a son, a daughter, or a child.

Word Count: 10.9k (i’m being generous)

Warnings: Infertility, period typical sexism, Loneliness, based off of a mitski song what did you expect, here comes the angst train *sad choo choo*

Notes: Female reader. and title (literally) taken from Wife By Mitski, which I rec listening too for the extra painful experience. So I’m back from the dead...ish. I wanna apologize for going AWOL for two-three months, guess Iw anted to focus on other works and I feel like x readers are not my strong suit. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna write them! I can’t promise anything, but I am planning some stories. Not as long or as painful as this is, of course!

I’m not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. Not only because it’s Mitski, but infertility is something that hit’s close to home for me and my family. Was this story just me projecting my generational trauma into this fic? Never! Anyways, hopefully I won’t go AWOL again, atleast not for that long. It’s really hard to find the motivation to write, but I’ll do it. For you guys ;)

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition

When Dick Winters had left for the war five years ago, he had made a promise to you the night before he was drafted. You were nineteen and naive, planned for college and he was twenty-seven, a post-graduate and Business Major. Your father was his professor and one of his best students. You would see Dick every Friday Night. As you would pick at the leftover peas on your plate, he would turn to look at your father to talk about something business-related. His eyes, you could never tell if they were a light shade of blue or green, would meet yours. It would be for a brief second. Those brief seconds would make you drop your fork and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

You had a small crush on Dick Winter’s.

It took you a few weeks to catch onto his eye color. They were a beautiful mixture of blue and green, reflecting a mint color. The taper candles would always lighten his eyes up. The reason you finally found out this eye color was because each dinner, you’d catch Dick staring at you. You were naturally oblivious to it, keeping your head down as your father talked a business deal. But whenever he mentioned Dick’s name, you would look up, see Dick’s dilated mint pupils looking right into your eyes before he swiftly turned his head to your father, acting like he was listening to every little word he was saying.

Dick had become a family friend. Instead of dinners once a week, he would come by your house more frequently in the summer months. The summer you had met Dick, there was a three-month-long heatwave. From what you understood, Dick had been doing an internship with your father along with extra studies, extracurriculars, and even more. It sounded like a lot for a young man. He was over three times a week, always in your father’s studies or the porch, drinking lemonade as he and your father discussed business. You’d sit on top of the porch, lazily slumped in a chair in your floral dirndl, reading And Both Were Young as you watched Dick Winters, in shorts and a tight white shirt with his strawberry blonde hair a little messy. Every time he spoke, your heart would skip a beat.

“Two jobs?” You cried, skipping ahead of him in your flats that you had slipped on in a rush, the heels hanging out of the back. “And an internship? How do you do it all?”

Dick looked down at your tiner figure, his lips curving into a subtle smile at your question. Whenever he smiled, his cheeks would wrinkle. It was a small detail you caught into about Dick that you adored. “I don’t go to parties a lot. Not worth the time that I’ve got. I work these jobs so I can get through school and support my family.”

“That’s very admirable, Dick. Not a lot of guys my age would even consider that.” You remarked with a compliment. Dick walked beside you, hands behind your back with a straight back. His gaze lingered in you as he scanned your figure. Now that Dick was around more often, you always made sure to wear your best outfits. You wouldn’t have considered yourself very vain, but with Dick, something had changed. You started wearing the pretty pastel dresses your mother approved off, fine pearls, expensive cologne, and even the short rompers that your mother didn’t approve of. When wearing makeup, you felt like a woman more than a girl, which is what you wanted Dick to see you as.

“Thank you, y/n.” The strawberry blonde politely thanked with a curt nod. The two of you had a little routine now. While your mother would make dinner and your father would smoke a cigar in the back with the dogs, you’d take Dick into your backyard and down a little cobblestone trail to a hidden lake. You liked to go there to read to escape, and Dick needed a small break from working in the burning heat. So it was idle. “Do you have plans now that you’ve graduated?”

“Yes. I’m starting classes at Franklin and Marshall since they’ve allowed women. My mother prefers I stay home and learn how to be a lady instead of reading,” You explained with a sigh. The only woman in a class full for men. Times were changing, and nothing was going to stop you from working. “She cares more about her grandchildren then her daughter’s desires.”

“Well, it is your choice? Not your mother or father’s. As long as you were happy, then they should be happy for you. I think you’ll like it,” Dick kindly reassured, “You’re a very nice young lady, y/n. I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

The two of you arrived at the lake. The sun was setting over the sky as it shined on the lake. There was an orange and pink hue in the sky. Dick and you stood besides each other. The strawberry blonde shut his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling a small breeze in the night. The air got colder in the nights, which felt like a refreshing treat after a long day of work and unbearable heat. The sun made his strawberry blonde hair and skin glow like he was some kind of god.

You admired Dick as he stood there, biting your lip and hands playing with the belt fabric on your skirt.

“Dick?” You managed to choke, your voice cracking.

He opened one eye and looked at you, worried. “Is everything okay, y/n?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Dick looked bewildered. It took him a second to process the question. His expression was that of a high school student stumped on an equation in math class. He hadn’t been outside much, maybe the heat was getting to him. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

“Can you please kiss me?” You reiterated, biting your lip in vexation. “I haven’t met a man like you, Dick. None of the boys my mother is setting me up with are like. They aren’t as intelligent, hardworking, cordial. When I tell these boys I want to read and live my life, they put me down-call me insane and ill. But you don’t do those things. You just stand there and listen to me. I may not make sense since I am probably just some young immature girl who knows nothing about being a proper lady. You even give me kind words of advice. No other boy would do that. Only a man would do such a thing.” You vented, letting your words spill out like vomit.

Dick wasn’t reacting at all. At Least it wasn’t obvious. He turned his figure towards you, eyes glued as his lips puckered against each other’s. He seemed taken aback by your honesty since you were someone who was reserved, only speaking when necessary. That didn’t mean adding your opinion to one of your father’s at dinner. Dick wasn’t obvious to your “rebellious” nature. Your mother would always scold you for interrupting the men. Your father didn’t mind your info if, and so didn’t Dick. He was interested in your perspective, and would always ask for further intake since it was the gentlemen thing to do.

You looked at him and shook your head, turning to walk back. “Forget it,” You sighed as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his. Dick got a smell of your perfume, a lavender and vanilla, it was definitely expensive. He liked y/n’s armora, especially after a long day of being in a stuffy room full of whiskey and burning cigars. “You probably think I’m just a mad woman-“

Dick thought about his decision for a second. He had to think thinkly. When he made up his mind, he sped walk towards you. “Wait,” He called. He saw you turn around with your silky (y/h/c) (y/h/t) spring right behind you. He scrunched up a fist feeling a lump grow in his throat as he looked a few slow steps towards you.

“You’re not a mad woman. I think you’re wonderful to be around. I always enjoy our conversations and our midnight walks,” Dick commented. He was at a loss of words for the kiss. When you had asked, you sounded like you were begging, but hid it.

It took him a while to realize that the two’s of you had a fair amount in common. You both were soft spoken souls, friendly but quiet. You distanced yourself from large crowds and were usually confident in each other since you both had a trust. You know how eachother worked like nobody else did-a small, intimate detail that only the two of you would watch into.

“You’re also growing into a beautiful young woman each day. Being a lady doesn’t mean being all prim and proper, it means being mature, kind, and respectful to others. That’s what you are.” Dick was only a few steps away. You listened to every word he said, your hands restraining themselves from touching his chest. He could once again smell the cologne and see the moonlight shine on your eyes and hair-the gloss you wore sparkled as well.

“But I couldn’t kiss you. You’re father wouldn’t approve of it.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. Your hands met his chest. You were so caught up in the heat of it that you didn’t realize that your hands rested on Dick’s Ivory collared shirt. Dick, however, didn’t protest at all.

You gently scrunched the fabric, “He’s not here. Just one. Before my mom tries to marry me off. Just one kiss and I won’t ask for anything else of you, Dick.”

Dick put his bigger hands onto yours as his thumb finessed the small part of your soft, [y/s/c] skin in between your index and thumb. “I…”

You gave him those eyes. They were begging. One kiss from a real man and you would be content.

Dick let out a defeated sigh, “...will. Just one. For you.”

So he did. In the moonlight, Dick Winters held you close and became your first kiss. Your lips were like a sweet treat. It felt miraculous after a long day of work. It was meant to be quick, but he was obsessed with your cushion lips and sweet lip gloss. His hands firmly rested on your lower back as his fingers scrunched with the material. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was yours, so he made sure to be gentle with you, even though he struggled. The whiff of your perfume, your shirt showing off your abdomen, the silliness of your hair. It was hard just for it to be one kiss.

Dick walked to you, your arm slung in the hole of his elbow. The two of you didn’t speak any words once you arrived back for dinner. It was a typical dinner. Your mother always made Salmon, rice, and peas on Saturdays, which occurred to be Dick’s favourite meal. Your mother raved about boys who could “tame” you, your father spoke of a new business deal in the news, you picked at the leftover peas, and Dick looked at your father with his weary king eyes, attempting to look interested in the conversation.

What kept him away in the dinner as your bare ankle, brushing against his trousers. It was a little bit distracting. Thank god he was a good pretender. It felt so wrong to be doing this, yet so right. You were unlike a lot of women Dick had met. You always caught his attention, watching you each day as you grow into a young, educated woman.

To tame your foot, Dick wrapped his ankle around yours, tenderly holding it down until the meal was over. After dinner was over, Dick wished your family a goodnight.. He gave your mother who adored him a kiss on the cheek, your father a firm handshake, and you apart on the shoulder. His fingers struggled on your bare shoulder for what seemed like forever, brushing against the edge of your neck.

And with that, Dick was gone into the night. You headed to bed and changed, not washing your lips. You had a smile on your face as you twisted and turned. It was a one time occurance, but it felt like your fantasy had come to life.

But before you knew it, it would all be over. Dick would be back on Tuesday, and the two of you would act like nothing had ever happened.

But what Dick and you didn’t know is that it wouldn't be the first time of hushed kisses, lingering fingers, and limbs grazing passionately against each other.

————

The US had entered the war overseas. Most of the boys in your class were putting a pause on their lives to go fight in Africa, The Pacific, or Europe. Anybody who was over the age of eighteen was required to draft, so town was a shit show of crying mothers, lanky boys who could possibly never come home, and military trucks. You wanted to apply to be a combat nurse, but you weren’t of the age requirement.

Dick was going to war.

Ever since the night at the lake, you and Dick kept a closted relationship. He still came over in the Summers. Some days you wouldn’t even see him. But the small moments you had together, whether that be watching the twinkling stars on your walk on the lake hand in hand or cuddled reading books on a rainy day in your isolated greenhouse porch, mattered so much. If you had a bad day, he'd sit there and listen. He wouldn’t judge or give any advice. You didn’t know if he understood your struggles, but it made you happy to know that someone would sit there and listen. For comfort, he would take the book out of your hands and bookmark it, slide off your dangling flats, and pull you into his chest.

Dick’s language of romance wasn’t grand or romantic. Although reticent, his tranquil actions were nothing but idyllic. It was the little things that counted, whether it was fresh perennial’s picked from the field or even a hug. Your relationship didn’t have to be based on gifts and what others thought of you. It was the little things that counted.

The night before he was drafted, Dick invited your family over to his farm. It was at the edge of town and down a long dirt road, leading to a little white house and large red barn. It was picturesque, a cornfield and trees for miles on end. There was no constant chatter, horns blaring, or pressure-it was just quiet.

When your parents and Dick’s parents were distracted in conversation, Dick requested to take a walk with you. As much as you enjoyed talking to the bubbly Anne, you needed a small escape. You followed Dick to the back of his tiny kitchen. Being the gentleman he was, he held the door open and let you walk ahead of him. The only noise that could be heard were the chirps of crickets and the wind gently blowing. You held a hand down on a dress your mother forced you to wear. It was a Jade summer frock, but Dick had complimented you. So it made the frock somewhat bearable.

The two of you walked in his backyard. You had no clue where he was leading you. You turned to Dick to ask. He didn’t respond with words. His fingers edged on your as you unruled your fingers, letting his hand sink into yours. His hands were worked, and you felt awful so you gently caressed the upper skin with your thumb.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as you looked left and right, clinging onto the shawl that hung from your shoulders.

Dick looked down at you. He had a subtle smile on his lips as he looked down at you. All of the anxiety he had felt about being drafted, work, and the war faded away when he looked at you. Dick didn’t need to kiss you to know that you loved him; he could tell from the gentle look of your stunning (y/e/c) eyes. He watched you look into the never ending field ahead of you, the wind blowing loose strands of your updo. You wore a little bit of makeup. It was always subtle. He knew you hated wearing makeup and did you want to do it to look “presentable”. Dick didn’t care what you looked like, whether it be in overalls or a dress, he was infatuated with you.

He should have known from day one that y/n, the mischievous daughter of his Economics professor, had been yearning for him. He attempted to get lost in the papers and speeches of your father in his regal office with the shades closed and the whiff of smoke, earth paper, and Whiskey. Even when he was trapped in the office, you were still on his mind with your elegant perfume and book in hand.

“Here.” He announced, overlooking the cornfield. The colossal, green plants waved in the wind, in front of a hazy smoky dull sunset. You didn’t respond and simply looked into the sunset, slowly watching the shining sun set into the ground. “The cornfields, they remind me of you.”

A smirk curved on your gloss lips as you squeezed his bigger, worked hand with your tinier one. “Is that so?”

“They're wild. No matter the season, they are always growing. They're not the easiest plant to manage, there...unruly.” Dick explained, still a gentle smile on his tringale face.

“Are you comparing me to a bunch of crops?” You teased as your head landed on his shoulder. “Not a lot of women find that very romantic.”

Dick leaned his head on top of yours as he, your thighs brushing against each other.

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” You broke the silence.

Dick didn’t move and had an eerie stoic expression. He tightened his grip on your hand before looking down to let out a soft sigh.

The sun didn’t shine anymore, the corn had stopped moving in the wind, and the stars didn’t sprinkle. You felt your stomach drop as goose bumps appeared on your exposed arms and legs. You froze and looked down at the grass, seeing your feet nestled right next to Dick’s.

The possibility that this could be the last time you saw Dick, held him, read with him, and kissed him haunted you. As a child, you had made it official that love was off the table. But when the giant gentle with red hair and mint eyes waltzed into your kitchen on that fateful night, your world had been turned upside down. Trying to be logical, you could live if Dick died. He was far too old to marry you, and most likely showed no interest. You could've been just a pretty face for him to silently hold before acting like you never shared tender moments in the moonlight. If he died, you would move on, marry someone your mother chose out for you, and start a mundane life of cooking, folding laundry, and having children.

But emotionally, if Dick didn’t come back to Lancaster, something would be missing from your life. Something important.

“I can’t promise anything. You know that, sweetheart.” Dick cautioned you, whispering into your hair. At Least he was being honest-better than sugar coating a sensitive subject. He tried to make you look at him, but you refused. You were being stubborn, pushing away the emotions and trying to think logically. But in all honesty, it was catching up to you know. Tears stung at your eyes as your mouth quivered.

“I know, you don’t have to tell me, ” You sniffled, “I’m not an idiot. I prefer it if you be straightforward with me.” Dick looked at you with his thin eyebrows knit together and narrowed eyes. After sharing such a kind moment, he most likely wouldn't wanna break news that would tear your heart to pieces.

You preferred if he’d just spit out the words and get it over with. Make it easier for both of you to handle.

He moved on his hands to your cheek to wipe the incoming tears, but you refused. You turned your head and swiped the tears with your shaky palm, red lipstick and mascara staining your skin.

You scoffed in frustration, “Just say you want me to break up with me. It’s for the better. I’ll go to school, you go to war. We act like nothing ever happened. For the greater good. It was fun while it lasted..But I...nevermind.” You looked down at the ground, refusing to look at Dick. One glance and the next thing you would know, tears would be streaming down your face as you ran into the night.

Dick turned and followed after you as your footsteps increased with a few mumbled sniffles. “That’s not what I wanted to say-”

A pained sob escaped your mouth as you walked forward, a red face with tears streaming down your cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please, for the better of us. It’s better to use your mind over your heart and not worry about some young, naive girl who had a crush on her father’s best student!”

“Y/n...”

You continued to walk forward and ignore Dick’s pleas, but your stomping slowed down.

“Y/n...”

Dick was creeping up behind your. Your speed walking slowly turned into slow, sluggish steps. Tears streamed down your face as your hands slung at your sides. Dick was now right behind you, watching you as you sniffled. You slowly turned your head to look at him with mascara running down your face.

“Oh, Sweetheart..” Dick softly sighed. Your whole body turned around as you fell into his arms, letting out a loud sob. Small sniffles turned into wails as you cried into his chest, staining the ivory collared shirt. He stroked your hair as he ran reassuring circles on your back. He wanted you to get all of those pestering emotions out. After a few minutes of sobbing and Dick comfortingly holding you close, he broke the silence.

“That’s not why I brought you here,” Dick cooed into your hair as he traced mindless figures into your lower back.

You looked up with your big (e/y/c) orbs, letting out a little sniffle. He had a soft smile on his face as he wiped a stray hair from your face, slowly tucking it behind your hair. “Then...why did you bring me here..?”

“This cornfield holds a special place in my heart. I come here a lot. It’s peaceful, but lonely.” Dick explained as he grabbed your hand, holding your tiny one in his own. He looked down at you, “After working with your father, I’d come home and run here. I’d stop midway to look at the wind and the way it moved the corn. It was so relaxing, so that’s why I brought you here.”

“To not feel lonely?”

“Yes. I felt alone, until I met you.” He admired, “I was surrounded by people, but I still felt alone. But when I spent time with you, I didn’t feel alone at all. It was a highlight to see you, even if it was sitting across from each other at a table or seeing you, laying on the porch. I looked at you and I got happy.”

“Dick, I…” You were speechless. His words wanted your heart, but his message baffled you. “Appreciate your kindness, but what do you mean?”

The gentle strawberry blonde held your hand. He didn’t hold it tight, but used both his hands to hold them up. He slowly backed up and lowered himself on one knee. From the books you had read, you knew what this way. Initiatively, you would’ve said no and ran away. But Dick had courted you with his gentle hold, reassuring words, and sheer presence.

“I couldn’t keep it any longer. I know there’s a chance that this will be the last time you see me for a while or at all. I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I..can’t hide it. I love you, y/n. I don’t care if you want to start school and make your own money, I don’t care if you wear pants, I don’t care what you do. I care about your happiness. I want you to live a long and happy life. You’re the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have ever met. I understand you’re young, and you can turn this down if it’s too much. Dick announced as he pulled a velvet box from the back of his pants, he opened the box to reveal a golden Celtic band. You put a hand on your mouth in joyous disabelif. “I want to be with you, but only if you want to be with me. You’d never be alone...Will you marry me, y/n?”

“Dick, this is…” You chuckled in disbelief. One minute you were crying, now you were laughing. Dick in one hand held a beautiful ring, and the other hand your delicate hand. “Wonderful. But my parents...they…”

“I talked to your father. He said pick out a white dress you want.” Dick replied. “You’re mother cried. I thought she was upset, but she was beyond happy. She told me she knew you had an eye on me since I started coming over for dinner. They approved...but if you don’t want this, I understand. I just couldn’t hold it in, even if I don’t come ba-“

“Yes, Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Your words started low, but then turned to loud cheers. You squealed, nodding enthusiastically. “I will, Dick. I’ll marry you. I don’t care. If something does happen, I'll be happy knowing that I’m yours. Even if you don’t…” the three lettered words struggled to come out your mouth. It was such a rough word. Unable to bring yourself to say it, you chose to leave your pessimistic side for something more optimistic. “I won’t be alone, even if you’re in Europe, The Pacific, wherever. I’ll just know you’re here, in my heart and dreams.”

It turned out that this whole dinner was a setup by your family and the Winters. It just had to be Anne Winters that she found about your relationship with Winters. Being sixteen and sassy, she casually shrugged it off and stated that “Dick was a horrible liar”. It should have been obvious with Dick’s favourite meal, the fact that you were placed right next to time, Anne’s teasing, and your mother pestering for you to look presentable. It all made sense now.

But there was one ball in the air-the ceremony. Dick would be leaving for Toccoa the next day, the afternoon. Your parents wanted a big ceremony for the morning. The Winters didn’t care-they just wanted the two of you to be happy considering that Dick was going to be away for a long time or forever.

You and Dick had to come to an agreement. You announced at the end of dessert that you would wait to be married until Dick came back from the war.

Obviously, this caused a bit of uproar. But with Dick leaving tomorrow, they chose not to make a big deal of it. As long as you and Dick were happy, your families could be nothing but be happy for you. Even if it was a short amount of time.

After the storm that settled, you and Dick had left his house. You hopped in his truck and drove to the local chapel Dick had attended with his family every Sunday. In the middle of the night, the two of you eloped. He made sure to pull over and pick out a group of Perennials, all kinds of your favorites. You even stuffed some into your messy updo which had turned into a half updo.

After your quiet ceremony, the two of you drove back to your estate. There, the two of you spent your first, and poetically final, night together in your childhood bedroom; making love, cuddling, and cherishing every moment you shared with each other.

The variety of perennials’s Dick had picked out were placed into a blue and white ginger jar. It was meant to be a memory of Dick. He wouldn’t be there psychically, but spiritually, he would be right there.

Dick was surprised to learn that you weren’t a virgin. He was raised a Mennonite, waiting for marriage. You, being a curious young woman, had experimented. It was once, and an unpleasant experience. Before, you had felt indifferent about sex. It was something that women were meant to desire. You were told to be a virgin and wait for a man to take control of you. Hating those words, you chose to do the opposite. Nobody knew of your little secret, besides Dick-your husband.

Dick was nothing like the boy you had lost your virginity to. Unlike that boy, he was a man. Not because he was masculine and tough, but because he treated you like his equal. He never treated you any differently from your father. Dick had morals and integrity, he was compassionate, quiet but polite, open-minded, and used his brain and heart. That was what you defined a real man as.

Dick treated you like you were made of glass. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. He didn’t care about his feelings, he only cared about yours. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying yourself. You aided him in some areas, but the two of you were on a ride after a rocky start. Dick always asked how you were doing, if you wanted him to stop, go slower, or if you needed to break. He left sloppy kisses all over your body and had his hands wrapped around you like a young child with a bear. Dick didn’t let go of you once.

That night, the two of you held each other close as you chatted for hours on end. That was what you had looked forward to, not the sex. Sex was still a big piece in your marriage, but it wasn’t the most important. You looked forward to the long and mindless conversations the two of you had. Dick held you in his warm arms, toned and muscles from the workout’s he did year round. He would hold you close to his body as the two of you discussed life after the war.

It didn’t matter what the future held. If Dick was gone for one year, ten years, or forever. What mattered was the two of you had each other in your little moment of peace before all hell would break loose.

You and Dick had chatted the whole night away. The next thing you knew, you would go from the bedroom to the train station. It was a moment you dreaded, but it had to be done. Dick once again had a stoic expression. He kissed his mother, your mother, and sister, shook his father's and your father’s hand, and gave you a long sweet kiss on the lips. Dick struggled to pull away, but he knew it was for the best. Before climbing onto the train, he promised to write to you at every opportunity he got and tell you about Europe, the war, and anything he desired to tell you.

The next thing you knew, you were alone again.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your shoes and walked up the stairs. Your mother asked if you were okay, to which you silently nodded your head. Your father had noticed your unusual silence. He had offered to take you shopping, thinking that money would make you happy. All you did was politely decline and retreat to your bedroom.

Your room was stuck in time. The sheets were all over the floor and Dick’s tall figure that had been imprinted on the left side of your bed. The dress your mother forced you to wear laid on the floor, along with your flats and pearls.

The sun shined through the curtains as you crawled onto the side where Dick had laid. You closed your eyes and sunk into his pillow, holding onto the disappearing scent of your husband.

On Top of the books, you had been reading were the perennials; lavender, daylilies, and stonecrops. You looked up from the pillow, your nose buried into the pillow and a blanket loosely covering your legs.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel that so alone anymore.

———

One year turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into four. You kept the calendar’s from over the years in your room, neatly stored under your bed. You found it funny how time flew by. You could remember the first day of walking in your classroom and the day you walked off the podium with your diploma. The pretty perennials that Dick had given you from what seemed like a decade ago had died. They were withered and derived of the bright colors they once had, hanging on the side of the blue and white ginger jar. The perennials reminded you of yourself. Once you had been a fiery young girl, and now you were an exhausted graduate student who was bound to become a widow.

Around the time you had found work at Lancaster, BBC announced that the war was over in Europe. That should have phased you and made you jump up with glee, but in all reality, it didn’t. The optimistic side you once had was long gone, turning into a pessimistic bitterness. The war was over in Europe, but not in The Pacific. Dick still wouldn’t be coming home, and you learned to accept that.

Sure, he had sent you letters in the beginning. Lots of them. He would talk about his adventures in training, his dreadful drill sergeant, his friend who was a “one of those city folk”, and so many more things. He expressed his boyish pride in being a patriot for his country. His little letters used to make your day. But as the leaves fell from the trees and the years passed, his letters would slow down. The last one you had received in January, written in December. It was short and sweet. The letter rested in your drawer. As the days passed on, a small part of you broke. You had been married for five years, yet you felt like you weren’t even married. No Dick kissing you, holding you in your arms, or comforting you in your darkest moments.

When the flowers had slowly withered, so did your hope.

But that all changed on a warm September day. Your mother had called you from your room, not specifying what was awaiting for you at the door. You grumbled and got up, taking off your glasses as you walked down the stairs, expecting to see another colleague trying to woo you.

You didn’t expect to see a tall man with a soft smile, strawberry hair, and a neat military uniform. Your husband-Dick Winters.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You dropped everything, running right into his arms. You buried your face in his chest as he pulled you in close, his worked hands resting on your lower back and hair. He smelt amazing, and his uniform was soft. You missed his tender touch and soft words. It had been forever since you had seen him. In that moment, nothing mattered. No words needed to be spoken. In all honesty, you never wanted or needed pity from others. You just wanted someone-Dick-to be close. You thought of yourself as a coward, but all you wanted to feel was alright.

“Sweetheart, I missed you. I’m so sorry,” He apologized, stroking your embrace. His voice was stoic, as usual. It really was Dick. He was home and in your arms, at last.

“Don’t. Just stay. Please.” You softly cooed into his chest. No, you couldn’t let go now.

Dick let out a soft chuckle and stayed in the embrace. War was a strange beast. It stripped families of their children and caused mass discussion. Dick thought he wouldn’t come home and see his wife who had married the night before he was drafted. As the years had gone by, Dick began to regret his choice. What if he had left you a widow?

But that was the past. It was gone-nothing to waste tears on. In your extended embrace, the future didn’t matter, it wasn’t worth stressing. Dick and you lived in the present moment and made it beautiful.

-----------

Nothing had changed after Dick had come home. Life was still the same, except you weren’t as alone. Dick was still his stoic self. He was a doting husband. You expected him to struggle when he returned to civilian life. He wasn't used to homemade dinners and a bed much-the flashes of exploding limbs and artillery flashing through his eyes. Both you and Dick were independent. It wasn’t a bad thing. You could spend hours reading as he did a puzzle in another. On some days, the two of you would do activities together. You’d lay your head in his lap as he’d did his puzzle. On other days, Dick would be needier. Originally, he wasn’t vocal about it. It took you a while to catch onto it. He held your hand more in public, pulled you closer as you slept, and whenever he was in a mood-he’d come right to you and just give you a look. You knew the look all too well-and knew how to cure it. Dick would wrap his arms as you snuggled into his chest and talk about anything your minds came to. Sometimes you’d talk, but other times the two of you would close yours and fall asleep. Dick wouldn’t have any nightmares if held you close for comfort.

Without you, Dick didn’t know what he would do. How he could return to the simplicity of life.

Somehow, he returned. And every day he made sure to thank you for making him feel like a human and not a machine-whether that be through a gentle peck, a cuddle, or even a literal “thank you”. He loved you more than anything in the world.

----------

Shortly after Dick returned, the two of you moved out to New Jersey. His “city-boy” friend (his name was Lewis Nixon, but Dick called him Lew) had offered him a job at his parent’s nutrition company. So off the two of you drove from Lancaster to the suburbs of Haddonfield. Haddonfield and Lancester were virtually the same; small country bumpkin towns isolated from the big cities.

You and Dick had bought your first house (which was given by Nixon was a “late honeymoon gift). It was a small colonial house in a tiny suburb, pristine white with red doors. The decorations in the house were limited, a few photos of your and his family with elegant furniture gifted from your parents. It was a little big for your liking. It was a nice gift, but in Nixon’s words, it was for the “incoming armada of redheads”.

Babies. Children. Of your kin.

Dick had mentioned having children. When he was still adjusting, he’d hold you close as he talked about his plans for the future. Buy a farm in Pennsylvania, build his own business, and start a family of his own. He had told you that anywhere you would go, he would go. Anything you wanted, he wanted. He was about thirty two and you were close to turning twenty-five. It was expected at your age to have young children, but with no husband around and a job, it was difficult to settle down. You would gulp and smile, looking down as you held his hand.

Dick didn’t want to pressure you. He knew that were siginactiatly younger. Times were changing, you had a job and life of your own. He never wanted to interfere with it. When you would get insecure about not being the “ideal wife”, he’d reassure you that you were his wife and didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. Dick wasn’t a man who put fear into others to get what he wanted. He was a patient and gentle soul.

You had tried a few times here and there. As much as you tried to enjoy something that was pleasurable, it was painful. You hid it from Dick, but Dick wasn’t an idiot. Dick wanted you to enjoy it. You could his mint eyes, hungry yet soft, as he laid on top of you, both of your hands restricted as you did the deed.

You weren’t making any noises, looking to the side. Something was wrong, you knew it. But you couldn’t break it to Dick. How would he react?

Dick catched onto his. He pulled himself together and pulled out. You looked at him and gave him a stubble style as he scooted closer to you, his breath heavy and gelled hair a mess.

“Hey,” You smiled awkwardly, clenching at the sheets.

Dick looked at you, a smile curving as his lips as his hand caressed your cheek. “How is my wife doing?”

It was a private nickname. He called you it after the war, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes it was “my little wife”, which could be sweet or driven by lust. The little nickname made your heart skip a beat. You were proud to be his.

“Good. I’m tired,” You yawned as you held his hand close, playing with his big fingers.

Dick looked at your face as he admired your natural beauty, a pearly smile, your hair loose on the pillow, and your figure covered by a thin sheet. His hand moved from your cheek, your nape, and eventually your stomach. He drew slow, soft circles around your tummy.

“My little wife with our baby,” Dick remarked, his fingers dancing across your bare skin. Any girl would’ve fallen head over heels if a man had said that. You should have been happy, you wanted a family.

But how could you tell him?

There was a long silence between the two of you. All you did was look into his mint orbs, stroking his hair out of his face.

“I hope he, or she, looks like you. So they get their mother’s beauty.” Dick looked down at your stomach and planted a kiss.

You gulped, thinking of a response. A pretty white lie. “And there’s dad’s redhead and kindness. If you’re a little guy, I’ll tell you that it’s hard to find a man like your day.”

“And it’s hard to find a woman like your mother. She’s a firecracker,” Dick jabbed as he playfully ruffled his hair.

“Dick…” Your words were low as you held back a sob. You plastered a smile, it hurt to lie. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. I don’t even know if I have a baby there…”

“Well…” Dick laid his head on your stomach, gently finessing the skin under your breast. “If It was a girl, what would her name be?”

You hated the feeling-naming a baby that wasn’t in your stomach. Dick believed that you were pregnant, or at least he believed you were. In response, you bit your lips-looking like you were deep in thought.

“Margaret,” You announced, “Molly for short. After my grandmother, in her memory.”

Dick tilted his head up and nodded, “For your grandma,” He planted another kiss and rested his head once again, “A boy?”

“Lewis? You like that fellow a lot.”

Dick shook his head, “No. I can’t look at him and our child the same way.”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. An image of a little baby flashed between your eyes. Mint eyes, dimples, and soft red hair. You wished it would occur.

“I can’t think of a name. You?”

Dick was silent for a minute as he laid on your stomach, your fingers entangled in his locks.

“Thomas. His name could be Thomas,” Dick proposed.

“Why is that?” You questioned.

Dick let out a sigh before crawling up to you, pulling you into his arms,“He was a C.O, to replace Sobel. I didn’t know him for long since his plane was hit. He’s listed as missing in action...but,” He froze on the words, unable to say it. You looked up at him Dick, who looked to the side with guilt tugging at his heart. You planted a kiss on his chin.

“He was twenty-two years old, just married. He sent a letter out to his wife to tell her that he was coming home. She still believes he’s out there, lost in some forest, finding his way home..” Dick looked down at you. Just like Meehan, he had been freshly married, sending out a letter. While Dick had kept his short and sweet (he didn’t want to promise anything), Meehan was too big for his britches. He didn’t show his fear, confidence in the face of adversity.

“Okay, Thomas it is. I like that name” You expressed.

Dick saw your face glow up, and so did his. He smiled, nodding along. “Thomas and Margaret,” He looked at your stomach once more, running his hand across your flat stomach. “I like that too.”

You nuzzled into his chest as he planted little kisses on the nape of your neck, holding you close for warmth. The two of you remained there, the only noise being your breathing.

Pulling your head back, Dick moved his hands down to your lower back to pull you up, closer to his face. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Dick?” You looked into his mint eyes, the candle in the room glittering in his orbs.

Dick held your cheek as he admired your face, “I love you, my little wife.”

You looked down before looking at your husband, moving slowly up to his face.

“And I love you two, my big husband.”

Maybe time stopped when Dick’s lips had met yours, but the flutter only intensified. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees went numb. You could only focus on how soft Dick felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all of your senses.

It wasn’t clear if you had dreamed this all, but the raw emotion in the way Dick’s fingers curled against yours. Dick kept his eyes open, sneaking a guilt peak every time you took a breath for air, just to make sure you weren’t a product of his imagination.

You weren’t sure if nature rooted for this moment, but it distracted you from everything. You just laid there with Dick, draped each other's arms as you sloppily kissed. Dick pulled you in once again, gently placing his lips onto yours until your knees had once again gone numb, overpowered by his. His other hand rested on your stomach as he murmured Margaret and Thomas, talking about how excellent of a mother you would be to your babies.

By the time you became aware of this, you froze, letting Dick kiss your body. You looked at the ceiling, hands in his hair as he decorated your skin.

It was like a car had run into you, throwing you down to the side-a rude awakening. As much as you denied it, it was creeping up on you.

There was no Thomas. There was no Magaret. There was never going to be a Thomas or Margaret.

Your stomach was flat, nothing moved. There was no life in your stomach ever. No matter how many times you tried, wished, prayed, there was only one conclusion.

There would never be a son or a daughter in your stomach-ever.

From that point on, life was slow. You woke up, gave Dick a kiss goodbye, worked from home, cooked dinner, read with Dick, fell asleep at an ungodly hour, and repeated the mundae routine everyday. With Dick being a general manager, he would work late hours. At some points, the only time you would see him is late at night when he’d crawl into bed giving you a kiss or early in the morning. Still, in his weary and stressed state, he’d always kiss your stomach every night and morning.

With your irregular cycles, constant negative tests, and pelvic pain becoming more evident in your marriage, you decided it was best to see your Doctor. As much as you didn’t want to know the possibility of what could be wrong, at least you would have an idea of what it was and how to make it better.

It turned out you couldn’t make your problem better. The doctor had a sympathetic look in your eyes as he listed off possibilities. You just sat there and looked at your stomach; your cold hands pressing against your stomach.

You were infertile.

There was never a Margaret growing in your stomach, nor was there a Thomas. There was nothing in your stomach.

How the hell were you going to tell your doting husband this?

---------

It was another Friday night in September. The leaves fell from the trees, the radio softly played in the back, it was peaceful in your little white house. Dick still hadn’t come home yet. You attempted to act like everything was normal as you put on a nice dress, pearls, and a fake pearly smile. It was all fine.

Nothing was fine.

You stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the haunting abyss. This feeling of dread and tightness became background noise as if it were traffic on an unseen road. There were times where you could handle it, and times where you could not. This was a day where you couldn’t handle it. Each day passed, and the more you repressed it-it hurt. It hurt even more than it was supposed to.

You were faced with a dead-end, a terrifying one, with thoughts of temptation and contemplation. You felt even lost in your own home and marriage, feeling helpless and scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen. In the partial society you lived in, a woman’s identity revolved around the ability to convenience. As a girl, you laughed it off, saying you’d do what you’d please. But you were no longer a fiery girl, but a broken and bitter woman. Bitter at the world for forcing the idea that women were baby machines. You, as you typically did, pushed it away.

Stuffed it into a closet, but it was now pouring out. All the baggage that you had repressed was right in front of you. You never felt like you belonged in the parthricaral society you lived in with their white picket fences and predictable lifestyles. That didn’t mean you didn’t want a family of your own. You had a husband, a job, a house, everything seemed perfect. But one thing was missing-a baby.

The older you had gotten, the more it affected you. Going to those parties for Dick’s job and seeing all the wives with their babies and fumbling toddlers. You didn’t feel anything towards them at first, but they eventually grew on you. Dick’s first few days home contained long conversations about what your lives would be after the way. You would chat with him for hours about it to distract from the nightmares that flooded his mind, holding his hand.

“A nice little farm near Lancaster, one or two kids, my own business, and the most important thing...you ” Dick would say, his words full of love. “My wonderful little wife, Margaret, Thomas, and me, on our farm. We’ll have each other.”

The kettle boiled in the water, the loud noise screeching in the kitchen. You dropped the knife and heard it clack onto the ground. All you did was stand there with wide eyes and shaky legs, looking down at the ground as your nails dug into the counter.

You couldn’t bear him children-you tried and tried and tried but to no avail. If you were not Dick’s, then what were you?

---------

Dick had taken off his trench coat, sliding his shoes off as he neatly put them right next to yours. He let out a sigh as he loosened his tie. Work had been stressful once again. All he could think about was seeing you and his growing little babies. Of course, he never told anybody. But knowing the thought was between you and him made it special-something so personal and beautiful. He couldn’t wait to see your face and hold you close, talking for hours on end. Anything you said or did made him head over heels, just like it had done to you five years ago. You had been distant and not your usual self, and Dick was worried. He knew of the insecurities you had, feeling like you never had fit into a certain mold.

He had walked into the kitchen and instead of finding you, he found a dropped knife and kettle that was overflowing with boiling water. It looked like you had left in a hurry. He made sure to check all of the doors to see if you had left, in which you had no. In a calm manner, Dick cleaned up the kettle and put the knife back where it was. He wanted to help so you wouldn’t stress.

The pitter-patter of the shower coming from upstairs alerted Dick. He walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway, seeing the bathroom light creak from the bathroom. Creaking the door open, the all to familiar noise hit his ears. The bathroom was foggy as the shower ran. Looking down, Dick saw the water come to his feet, staining his wet socks. Your flats were spread on the ground along with your knit cardigan, soggy from the water. Inside of the shower was you, clothed with your makeup running, hugging your knees as you looked down.

Dick let out a soft sigh as he looked at you, his shoulder slouching down. It was paining him to see you in this state, “Oh honey..”

You didn’t move, only your eyes did. He walked towards you, into the shower. He wore a white suit and dress pants, which were now we're stuck to his skin. He put himself right next to you as the hot water warmed his cold skin. You adjusted yourself to lean on his wet shoulder. Dick said there as you leaned on him for comfort, listening to the white noise of the shower.

“I tried,” You mumbled as your fingers ran circles in his arm.

Dick looked down at you with his strawberry hair sticking to his forehead and drips of water rushing down his face. He frowned, tiping his head to the side.

“I tried and tried, time after time. I tried so hard and I…” You lamented, grasping onto Dick’s arm. It was hard to spit out the words. You had already said the first half of it, you needed to say more. “I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Dick questioned, his fingers lifting your chin. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your mascara coming down along with it. His thumb wiped away the incoming hot tears. He was too kind to you. His mere presence reassured you. “Don’t cry, my little wife. Let me help you. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I-”

“I can’t have children. Not now, or ever.” The words came out your mouth. It felt like you were spitting fire. It felt strange like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Even though it was gone, it still lingered. “I went to the doctor last week. I’m infertile, Dick.”

Dick just sat with a frown on his face. You couldn’t tell what was going through his head. His free arm had wrapped around your shoulder was slowly falling as he let go of your chin, making an “oh” noise.

You looked at him and let out a sob as your face fell into your hands. “I didn’t wanna tell you. I know you’ve wanted children, every man wants that for their wife. You want a son who looks like you, and a wife who can provide that for you. I can’t. I wanted it too, but I watched my dream break. I’m supposed to give you a baby like a normal wife should...” Through the sniffling and sobs, you refused to look at Dick. He seemed disappointed, but you could never tell what he was feeling. “If you want a wife who can give you a child, then, by all means, do so. I’m worthless.”

You could feel it. Your relationship was over. Maybe it was for the better. Dick could start his family, and you could work a job in Philadelphia. They did have an opening in Philadelphia. It was better to have nobody-so you couldn’t get hurt and hurt others around you.

“No,”

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you turned to Dick. You scooted back, not able to tell if he was upset at you. “No?”

“No. You’re not worthless, y/n.” Dick attested, “What would make you think such a thing?”

“We’ve always wanted a family down the line. You would kiss my stomach every night, talking to the...” You looked down at your flat stomach, your hand gently squeezing the skin. It broke your heart even more just feeling what Dick assumed was Margaret and Thomas. “Just didn’t want you to get mad at me. I know you're upset with me.”

“Don’t give me that malarkey,” He growled, crawled closer to you as he grabbed your cheeks with your foreheads nuzzling towards each other. You could feel the warmth on the top of your forehead, “I’m not upset. You didn’t have to hide this from me. I should’ve known, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

Dick tenderly grabbed your shoulders and leaned you back on the white subway wall. He was gentle as he wiped the sticky hair from your face for a clearer view. He had a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with you leaning into it.

“But if I can’t give you children, what good use am I?”

“The reason I married you wasn’t that I wanted a family. At that moment, in that cornfield, I wanted you to be my wife. If I didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I would’ve died content with my life,” Dick complimented with a kiss to your wet hand. “You're not just a pawn used for children-my little wife. Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t even consider the thought. It’d be hard to find someone like you, y/n. Nobody as hardworking, beautiful, and fiery”

A chuckle escaped your lips, “Like a cornfield?”

“Like a cornfield,” He assured. “I don’t care about children, the past, the future, anything. I married you because I was in love with the beautiful, growing woman five years ago, and I still am. All I care about is my little wife, y/n-you. I love you.”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, “I..love you too, Dick.”

Silent communication was your and Dick’s form of romance. You didn’t need big gestures and materialistic gifts to feel comforted, sometimes you just needed someone right next to you, or in your arms. The silence was nice and the warmth was needed. Dick’s warmth felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. You wished that you could extend the night just so you could stay in his comforting embrace, relived in his hold. In his hold, you believed that there is nothing to fear, that there is all sunshine and love. Dick was the cure you needed, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky, he was the morningstar that you prayed wouldn’t disappear.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Dick said as he got up. “I’ll even run you a bath. Does that sound good, my little wife?”

Your fingers held the tip of his hands. Your (y/c/e)‘s met with his mint ones that shined in the pristine light. He gently helped you up with a hand resting on your waist.

Resting a hand on his chin, you looked down and shook your head. “I want to make dinner with you. I feel clean.”

“Are you sure?” Dick questioned, pulling you closer to his body. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Well I’m not tired. I haven’t felt like we’ve talked lately. You’ve been gone and I’ve been distant.” You confessed. The brutally honest was needed now. You tipped your head to look at Dick. “I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

“Fine, if you insist,” He placed his hand on your upper back and swept you off your fear. You let out a little chuckle as you snaked an arm around his shoulder for stability, “You said you needed a helping hand.”

Once you and Dick changed out of your wet clothes and into your matching silk robes (gifted by Lew, the man even had your initials engraved into the pocket), the two of you headed down to the kitchen to cook. The radio played in the back and the kettle silently brewed as you sautéed the chicken and Dick set the small table in the tiny dining space.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You looked behind you as you washed your hands of the greasy oils and spices.

“Did you grow up with dogs?”

You nodded as you dried your hands, “Two-a Westie and Cairn terrier. Your point?”

Dick came over the counter as he leaned on it with a smirk. It wasn’t condescending, but it looked like an idea had popped in his head. You loved it when he smirked or smiled; the dimples on his cheeks would show.

“I know you get lonely when I’m not around. Lew knows a lot of good breeders in the area. How do two dogs sound?”

You were lonely. Loneliness was a feeling you knew all too well. It haunted you as a child and adult. Except when you were a child, you thought it would disappear. But in truth, it did not.

“Two dogs sound nice, Dick,” You confessed. The kettle began to make a shrieking noise. Walking over, you grabbed two cups and poured hot water into them. The water from clear to a darkish brown. You let the bags settle for a few minutes before taking the two cups over and handing one to your strawberry blonde husband.

“There breed? Are we sure Lew won’t try and steal them?”

“Well, Lew wouldn’t steal them. He and Grace already have enough animals to take care of,” Dick put his two big hands around the mug. “Two terriers, a boy, and girl. Just like the ones you grew up with.”

“Ok,” You smiled, raising your eyebrows. “And their names?”

Dick took a sip of his tea before smacking his thin lips. “I was thinking of Margaret and Thomas. Do you like that?”

You finally knew the answer to why Dick was asking about getting dogs. Not that you were in protest. Dogs were like children-just easier to take care of.

“Yeah, I like that a lot.”

Dick put a hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeezed. He smiled at you, and you smiled back.

Within the week, Lew had come over with the cutest puppies you had ever seen. He had also brought over all of the necessary supplies for two puppies, and even two sweaters with their names. One was a feisty and quiet Westie named Thomas and the other was a sweetheart with a sour side named Margaret. You and Dick loved them more than anything in the world. They were fed Filet Mignon from the table, slept in between you and Dick, and always for what they wanted. Even Dick gave into their puppy eyes whenever they got into trouble. The reason he wanted dogs in the first place was for his little wife; y/n-you. Not only did he want to make you feel a little less lonely in your little colonial house, but protected. Dick wasn’t always there to look out for you, even though he knew you could handle yourself just fine. Still, it was the thought that counted. Knowing that you would have two little balls of energy to keep you entertained made Dick content, and so did you.

Lewis Nixon was right all along. He never saw you and Dick having children. In his wise words, dogs were “far superior” than children. Dogs didn’t cry as much, they weren’t as needy, and they didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night. Mostly.

You would see the way the dogs would interact with Dick, and how Dick would interact with them. He’d treat them like children. From rocking Margaret in his arms to having long conversations with Thomas about why he shouldn’t bite you his mother while you peacefully sleep, it made your heart skip a beat, seeing Dick be so gentle with the two puppies.

Every night before you would head to bed, Dick would always remind you that his dream had finally come true; buying the little patch of land in Lancaster for the farm was within reach. He’d give you a kiss and pull you close as the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

You broke away from the terrifying cliff that you had looked down, heading towards your morning star, Dick, with hope that it wouldn’t disappear.

#dick winters x reader #richard winters x reader #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #richard winters imagine #my writing #oh gosh this is painful #also listen to wife by mitski #y'know if u wanna even cry harder #all aborad the angst train #*sad choo choo*

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smallpotatoknitwear · 4 years ago

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Quarantine Blanket #7: Corner-to-corner (3)

Aaand here we have it! The scrap c2c that was in my first two “WIP blankets” posts, in its final form!!! I could not get a good photo of the whole thing laid out flat on the floor, unfortunately, but I am really happy with how this turned out. It gave me a good way to use up a lot of scraps that are in colors I don’t use often (like the different teal variegateds, one with green and blue and brown and the other with cream and light green), plus browns and blues! And that giant stripe of bright green across the middle was another yarn I inherited when my boss cleaned out his props storage at work back in 2019, as was the kelly green I used between stripes of other colors, so it was great to finally get (some) of that out of my stash. What’s left of those two yarns is going into my scrap pile for my friend’s ripple blanket, as are the other browns and greens left over from this blanket! Since it was a lot of scraps, I’m not really sure what a lot of the yarn was, but here’s what I can remember off the top of my head:

Variegated brown/teal/green/blue/tan and cream/light green/teal are both Loops and Threads Impeccable

Royal blue, bright blue (near the bright green in the middle), and one of the tans are also Loops and Threads Impeccable

A lot of the tans/creams/browns were from a Bernat self-striping cake that my grandmother had in her stash for a while and passed on to me last summer. I had nothing else to do with it, so I wound each color into its own ball and threw them in with the scraps for this blanket.

Kelly green is a Caron One Pound (inherited from work) and bright purple is a Red Heart Super Saver... whatever their big skeins are called (inherited from my mom during my junior year of college, after she bought too much for a blanket for my brother). Cream is also a Caron One Pound.

Navy blue is Red Heart Super Saver (leftover from Quarantine Blanket #3!)

There are a few others in here, but I can’t remember what they are or where they came from!

I think my favorite part of this whole blanket, though, is the black fun fur border. It really pulls the whole thing together and I just think it looks so cool! When I did the white fur border on my second granny square blanket (the pink, blue, and purple granny square), I really loved it, even though I wasn’t thrilled with the blanket as a whole. Since I was already happy with the finished version of this blanket, the border just put it over the top and made it one of my favorite finished objects from the past year!!! The border is super simple—I held black fun fur (bought off Amazon) and some light-worsted black yarn (the Hobby Lobby version of Caron Simply Soft that I can’t think of the name of) and treble crocheted around the entire edge of the blanket. It took just over three skeins of the fun fur, and about 4/5 of the other yarn!

This yarn is a gift for a friend, and I can’t wait to be able to send it to them!!! I hope they love it as much as I do—and as much as Bunchy does!

#quarantine blanket #quarantine blankets #original #original post #c2c #c2c blanket #c2c crochet #crochet #blanket #afghan #stripes #scrap blanket #finished object

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babbushka · 3 years ago

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1, 3, 9, 22! 😘💕❤️🖤🥰

HAPPY WEDNESDAY MY BELOVED FRIEND 💕

HELLO MADDIE I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS TO MEEE

1. chipotle order?

I don't eat at chipotle actually! My brother goes, or at least he did, but it's not my thing personally lol.

3. a specific color that gives you the ick?

This shade of off-yellow-vomit-green:

9. do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)?

I do! I was just on vacation so it fell out the window for a week lol, but here it is!

Morning:

Use Glossier blue serum with a chilled roller to de-puff face

Apply sunscreen moisturizer

Evening:

Cleanse face with Garnier micellar water and cotton round

Apply sheet mask from the fridge

Use pink quartz roller over face mask to help serum sink in

with leftover serum on face, use mini face cupping set to help with blood circulation

use la mer soft cream moisturizer

22. do you have an emotional support water bottle?

I don't anymore!! When I was in college I absolutely did, but now that I've graduated and effectively work from home, I tend to drink out of cups. I do want to get back into the habit of drinking out of a water bottle though, because I have a swallowing issue that means straws are kind of the only way I can really stay very hydrated. I just haven't found the right one for me yet!

#ask meme #LOVE YOUU

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wkemeup · 5 years ago

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I’m With You (2/3)

series summary: When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love. pairing: bucky x reader warnings: super soft!bucky, shenanigans, an asshole of an ex-boyfriend 🌸series masterlist // series playlist 🌸

T H E W E D D I N G

You sat at the far corner of the bar, tucked behind a post and a sudden influx of men you recognized from your college years enough to turn your back and hide your face into your second glass of bourbon.

The bartender eyed you carefully, raising an eyebrow as you neared the end of your drink but you shook your head. You were drinking too much too fast for a woman alone at a wedding and you figured you should have enough wits about you to look after yourself, at least.

Knee bouncing in a nervous twitch with your heel wrapped around the footrest of the barstool, you let out a tired huff. The ceremony hadn’t even started yet and you were already losing it. Without a single other person around you could cling onto for sanity, you were left alone to face the wedding of your ex-boyfriend, Jack; your longest, most serious relationship. Actually, your only relationship.

Shit.

You took another sip.

The rowdy group of guys beside you were hollering amongst one another and you could spot one staring at you with a hungry kind of look that made your stomach turn. You reached into your bag, hoping to distract yourself with your phone when your fingers touched crumpled paper.

You pulled it out slowly, examining the series of numbers scribbled in black ink you’d been handed at three in the morning by the handsome stranger who’d turned a near overnight in the Charlotte airport into an adventure filled with coffee, cartwheels, snacks, checkers, and intimate questions you never would have answered if it wasn’t for the genuine curve of his smile and the kindness in the blue of his eyes.

Bucky.

You swallowed nervously, running a thumb over the letters. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since you’d seen him and you were already thinking of calling. You sighed, groaning, never having felt more pathetic in your life. Until, Marci Jacobs walked into the room and somehow, you felt even worse.

Marci was a friend of Jack’s from school. She never liked you in all the three years you’d been with Jack and she made no effort to hide her dislike of you. She spotted you from across the room and with a smirk upon her face, she made her way towards you, despite your best efforts to sink into yourself and disappear completely.

“Y/n!” she cheered, voice shrill and fake as she attempted to hug you. You let her, awkwardly, though you remained incredibly stiff. She didn’t seem to notice or care. “We didn’t think you’d make it with the storm!”

“Yep,” you nodded, eyes darting to the floor. “Got a last-minute flight this morning around three.”

“Good, good,” she replied, though she was looking over your shoulder, like she was waiting for someone. “So… are you here alone?”

There it was. The reason she came over to you. There always had to be something with Marci, a reason for her to berate you.

You sighed, nodding and gesturing to the clearly empty seats around you. She smiled.

“Shame,” she shrugged, though she didn’t look the least upset about it. “Anyway, I’ll see you at the ceremony. I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing Jack again. Oh! And the bouquet toss, since you’re clearly available.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing out a nod and a tight smile though it took all of your effort. The moment she turned her back to you and made her way out of the bar, you exhaled a massive breath of relief. Clinging to the crumpled paper in your hand you had hidden in the palm of your grip, you pull out your phone.

You didn’t know what the hell you were thinking attending this wedding; surrounding by Jack and his friends, alone, and the prime target for every joke. But you couldn’t leave now, not now that Marci had seen you and was likely on her way to inform Jack that you’d arrived so they could have a good laugh about it together. A lump burned in your throat just thinking of it.

Before your nerve could get the better of you, you typed the numbers into your phone and brought it to your ear. Each ring echoed in your chest and your heart thumped a decibel louder. Your hand was practically shaking, waiting.

Did you want him to answer? Was it worse if he didn’t?

You nearly hung up the phone before you could find out when a scruffy voice came through the speaker, tired, confused, and your heart froze.

“Hello?” he called, like he’d just woken up.

You parted your lips to respond, but nothing came out.

“Anyone there?” he asked slowly and you were sure he could hear the patrons in the bar, the music playing low over the speakers, and the clinking of glasses as the bartender stacked them on the shelf beside you.

“Hey Bucky,” you finally choked out, cursing yourself at how pathetic you already felt. There went the whole three-day-rule you had always told yourself you didn’t believe in anyway, but now that you were the one calling less than twenty-four hours later, you felt like an idiot.

An exhale that hinted at relief came through his end of the phone and you could hear him shuffling around, like he was tossing blankets off of him and sitting up on a squeaking bed.

“Hey Y/n, I didn’t—” he chuckled and you could practically picture him running his fingers through his hair, “I didn’t think you’d call so soon,” you winced at that, “but I’m glad you did.”

Okay. That’s interesting.

“You are?” you asked nervously, playing with the edge of your glass, swirling the leftover amber liquid on the bottom.

“I was actually kicking myself over not getting your number,” he said, smile in his voice. “I kept thinking when I boarded my plane that I wanted to text you and tell you to have a safe flight and to text me when you land because – I don’t know – that’s something people do for one another these days and I thought you might think it was kind of sweet or something but I never got your number and I realized I’d have to wait for you to reach out and... I’ll tell ya, Y/n, I was nervous you might not ever call and—” he paused suddenly and a tight breath brushed over the speakers, “I’m rambling like a complete idiot. You must think I’m insane.”

“I already kind of thought you were insane, Bucky,” you laughed, cheeks aching from how wide you were smiling and as his nervous chuckle came through the speakers, you relaxed instantly. “But you’re right, I would have thought it was sweet. Maybe you can do that when I fly home?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “yeah, doll, I absolutely will.”

You bit on your lip, trying to hold back the smile to keep it sacred from the guy who had been eyeing you across the bar earlier. He narrowed his gaze on you and you remembered why you’d called Bucky in the first place.

“Hey, so, um,” you started awkwardly, “are you doing anything today?”

“If wasting away in a hotel room counts as doing something, then sorry, doll, I’m all booked,” he teased, already drawing another smile out of you. “Bec’s graduation is tomorrow. Got today to psych myself up.”

Your heart sank.

“Oh! Oh, okay, yeah that makes sense,” you mumbled, clenching your hand around the glass so tight you thought you might break it.

“Why? What’s going on?” Bucky asked sweetly and you couldn’t help the twist in your stomach. He was too kind, too perfect. You’d never stand a chance with him in real life. Whatever you thought you had with him should have just stayed in the airport at midnight where it belonged.

“It’s—It’s nothing. I don’t want to interrupt your plans.”

“Trust me, doll, I’d rather do just about anything else than spend the whole day ruminating over how freaked out I am about tomorrow.”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling so incredibly stupid for reaching out to him now that it was real. It would be worse than showing up alone. Being with a guy you barely met a day ago who was so clearly out of your league… it would be a field day for Marci and you didn’t even want to think of how Jack would react.

“You’re at that wedding, aren’t you?” Bucky asked gently, carefully, like he knew your heart was breaking on the other end of the phone, even when you didn’t respond. “Where's it at? I’ll come to you.”

“Don’t—Don’t worry about it, Buck. I’m—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this,” you said quickly, choking on the lump in your throat and trying to avoid the stares of the guy across the bar.

A woman rushed into the room and circled her hand above her head, signaling it was time to gather for the ceremony.

“Y/n, you’re not bothering me, doll,” Bucky insisted, rushed tone because he could hear you shuffling your things together. “Please, just tell me where you are and I’ll be there.”

“I have to go,” you stammered out and even as Bucky tried to object, calling your name as you pulled the phone away from your ear, you hung up.

It was for the best, you told yourself. Bucky couldn’t possibly want you amongst a sea of beautiful women in cocktail dresses and you didn’t think you could handle the look on Jack’s face when he sees just how out of your depth you are. He’d never come out and say it but he’d find ways to chip at your heart, something subtle enough to say in front of a crowd that could still manage to break away your self-esteem. It was a special talent of his.

So, you followed the crowd into the cathedral with bourbon on your breath and wondering how a bar managed to operate next door to a church. Though, you realized, both were places of refuge, weren’t they?

***

The ceremony didn’t start for nearly thirty minutes after the entire guest list had been seated. You sat in the last pew on the right side, tucked away so far back you hoped Jack wouldn’t be able to see you. He stood at the altar, dressed in a black suit with light pink flowers pinned to his lapel as he chatted with his friends standing to his left. He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the late arrival of his bride.

When the music finally did start, Marci was the first one down the aisle, followed by four more of the bride’s friends. The dresses were stunning, with a blush sheen and a silk texture, they all looked like models off of a runway. You glanced down at your burgundy dress. It cinched at the waist and flowed gently down to the mid of your thighs and you had thought it was decent enough until you saw these women walk by.

Then, came the bride, Lena, with long blonde waves flowing down her back and braids circling her head in a crown, adorned with flowers and a vail that swept over her exposed back and carried for yards behind her in the aisle. Her dress was unlike anything you’d seen and looked like it was hand made for her. She was perfect. She was exceptional. You understood what Jack meant by ‘better options.’

Some shuffling on your left suddenly grabbed your attention as the minister greeted the guests, and you turned to find the other members of your pew grumbling. You narrowed your eyes, trying to find the source of their irritation when a familiar voice whispered beside you, “so, what I miss?”

You turned sharply to your right to where the voice had spoken in your ear to find Bucky grinning wildly at you, albeit a little out of breath as he rested against the pew ahead of him for support. Your jaw dropped, looking him over to find him in a light blue suit that somehow managed to make his eyes stand out more than they already did. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow and his quickly wiped it away.

“W-What are you doing here?”

“Attending a wedding. What are you doing here?” he replied cheekily, taking a seat as the minister instructed. He tugged on your hand to sit down next to him when you didn’t budge, still in shock, not noticing you were the only one still standing. Your face flushed a red as your dress.

“How did you— How did you even find it?” you whispered, grimacing as an older gentleman in the pew ahead of you turned around to glare in your direction.

“It’s the third one I’ve been to today,” Bucky said into your ear, so impossibly close you could feel the warm of his breath against your skin. You shivered as he continued. “Once I picked up a suit from my buddy Steve, I just had to check the papers. Turns out, there’s seven couples getting married in Atlanta today. Got lucky on number three.”

You nodded, understanding the logic of it but at a loss as to why he was sitting next to you. He must have picked up on your confusion and he smiled sweetly at you.

“You sounded upset on the phone,” he said softly as the guests recited a psalm together in unison. He leaned closer so you could hear him. “I didn’t want you to be alone through this. I know it might not feel like it, but you made a world of difference for me last night. I wanted to return the favor. Make something painful a little easier.”

Bucky sighed, standing up with the crowd, and pulling you up by your hand again because you were simply too lost in anything else but him to notice. He smiled at that, nudging your shoulder and leaning in again.

“Plus, I like you,” he said causally and your heart nearly stopped completely, “I wanted to see you again and if I could make a good second impression and be in a suit, I wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass me by. Besides,” he eyed you carefully, smile tugging at his cheeks, “you look beautiful.”

You blushed and Bucky’s smile only widened. You weren’t even sure how that was possible.

“That dress is a good color on you, doll. It matches your cheeks now,” he teased and you swatted at his arm, mumbling at him to ‘shut up’ and he chuckled, biting down on his lip when the man in front of you turned to scold you again. Bucky muttered a quick apology and you pressed your face into his shoulder to keep yourself from bursting out into laughter.

The entire ceremony, Bucky managed to keep a smile on your face, whispering teasing comments into your ear and making fun of the bride’s father who sat with his arms crossed over his chest, red faced, the entire time. You thought you might actually survive this up until the moment the minister requested for Jack and Lena to recite their vows.

Jack pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket and your breath hitched in your throat.

He wrote his own vows?

He couldn’t have been bothered to get you a card on Valentine’s Day or remember your birthday but he chose to write his own vows?

“I have loved you since the first day I saw you,” Jack started and you gripped tight to the pew ahead of you. “I remember the exact dress you were wearing because I’d never seen anyone more beautiful in my entire life.”

Your hand was shaking and even as Bucky noticed, trying to sooth you with a cautious hand laying on top of yours, you could feel the lump burning in your throat.

“It was spring. The flowers were blooming on the cherry blossoms by the library on campus. You were walking out of your econ class carrying four different books and struggling just to see above the bindings. I knew in that instant, you’d be my whole world. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment. It all just faded away.”

You froze, breath caught in your throat. No, no that couldn’t be. He’d broken up with you right after graduation. The way he described his first-time seeing Lena, like it had happened in your last semester at school.

‘It all just faded away.’ You faded away.

He had already found his better option before he even left you.

Oh, God.

Tears were in your eyes before you could stop them. You could only vaguely hear Bucky whispering gently in your ear, his hand running soothingly along your arm, but none of it was registering, not as Jack looked so loving into Lena’s eyes, describing in painful detail the moment he decided to throw you away.

You clenched your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms as your breaths started to come in with short gasps. Ignoring Bucky’s attempts to calm you, you pushed your way through the aisle, legs shaking and numb and disregarding the disgruntled comments of the guests you squeezed past. You didn’t even spend a second out in the open before you darted out into the back alcove of the church, away from prying eyes in an enclosed room likely meant to hide the bride before the ceremony began.

You stumbled around, trying to find something to ground yourself with but nothing was working. You were feeling light-headed up until the moment two hands grasped onto your arms and you were met with ocean blue eyes.

“Hey, doll, you’re alright,” Bucky whispered, brushing a fallen hair away from your face and letting his free hand slide down your arm until he took a firm hold of your own, guiding it up to his chest and setting it over his heart. “Breathe with me now. In. Out. Good, Y/n. You’re doing so well. Come on now, keep going.”

You nodded, following his instructions and trying to push past the dizziness in your head and the throbbing ache in your chest. He’d done this before, that much you could gather. He was a soldier; he’d mentioned that in the airport. You wondered if he ever got panic attacks like this and you winced at the thought, of even comparing your heartbreak over an ex who didn’t even treat you well to whatever horrors he’d faced overseas.

Bucky’s hand didn’t leave yours as it sat on his chest. His hands were much larger than yours, covering the whole of your palm, and he smiled gently at you the whole time. As your breathing came back down, he whispered praises, told you how safe you were, that you were going to be alright, that he wouldn’t leave you.

How is it that you only met this man at an airport less than twenty-four hours ago?

Bucky pulled out a chair for you once your breathing was more even and helped you to sit down. You glanced up at him, wiping away the tears from your eyes, expecting to find something like pity or annoyance on his face but you were only met with kindness, of empathy, and concern.

“You alright?” he asked carefully.

You could hear the mics picking up Lena’s vows in the background. You clenched your jaw and you nodded, trying to convince him and yourself that you were, but the lump choked you again and the tears came right back.

“I think he cheated on me,” you gasped out and Bucky’s smile fell instantly. “His—His vows. We were still together until after graduation. But he met her b-before and he kept saying nothing else mattered and—and that—that was me, Bucky, I didn’t matter—”

A sob choked its way through you and Bucky darted forward, gathering you in his arms and holding you tight to his chest. You clung onto him like he was your only tether to this earth, crying tears into the lapel of his blue suit as he rubbed his hand in gentle circles over the bare of your back between the straps of your dress.

“You matter, Y/n,” Bucky soothed, repeating it again and again like a mantra, “you matter, okay? Jack is an asshole and an even shitter boyfriend and you deserve so much more than that, do you hear me? You’re incredible and selfless and funny and so fucking beautiful it makes my stomach twist all up in knots just lookin’ at ya. You are the best option, remember? Y/n, I need you to hear me on this.”

“I hear you,” you mumbled into his jacket, though you didn’t quite believe it, not with Jack standing up there proclaiming his love for the woman he left you for.

“Let’s get out of here,” Bucky said, pushing you back from his embrace just enough to get a good look at your face. Your cheeks were rosy and eyes red with tears, and you were certain half of your makeup was down your face, but Bucky didn’t even flinch. He reached forward and brushed his thumb ever so slightly under your eye, wiping away a trail of mascara and tears. “We don’t have to stay, Y/n. We can leave now and go do something fun. Screw Jack and this stupid wedding.”

You laughed despite yourself, but you shook your head. “If I leave now, I’ll never live it down. I can’t be the ex that ran out of the ceremony and deserted the reception. Especially since Jack knows I’m here and Marci will tell every goddamn person at this wedding how pathetic I am.”

“Who gives a shit what those people think?” Bucky shrugged, trying to draw a smile out of you, but your jaw was clenched shut. He sighed. “You give a shit, don’t you?”

“I wish I didn’t,” you replied defeatedly, eyes darting to the floor and shame seeping into your features.

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, tucking a flyaway hair behind your ear and then gently rubbing at the mascara stains on your cheek, “guess we better make the most of it, huh?”

He offered you his hand and you took it gratefully. The two of you started to make your way back into the church when suddenly the door to your secluded room swung open and Marci was standing in the frame. She narrowed her eyes, clearly not expecting to find you here.

“What are you doing?” she snipped, though her voice was light and airy, “the ceremony just ended. Jack and Lena are outside greeting the guests.”

Her eyes fell on Bucky then and she softened immediately. Of course, she did. She was the type of effortlessly stunning you expected Bucky to want but as she trailed her gaze down his body, you felt him stiffen next to you. The moment she caught sight of your hand encased in his, she clenched her jaw.

“Sorry, who are you?” she asked Bucky, stepping closer to him and ignoring your presence completely.

Your lips parted, trying to come up with an excuse because she had seen you at the bar, she’d known you’d been here alone, but you couldn’t form a single strand of words. Thankfully, Bucky was quicker on his feet than you and he darted his free hand out for her to shake.

“Bucky, the boyfriend,” he said casually and your heart stopped. Boyfriend? “I flew in last minute to surprise my girl, but don’t fret, you can tell the happy couple I plan to steer clear of the food and drinks so they don’t have to worry about paying extra for my crashing.”

He pulled you tighter to his side, arm draping over your shoulders and a giddy smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head like it was nothing. Marci didn’t seem convinced, only that was probably more due to the fact that it was you Bucky was talking about and not because he wasn’t a convincing liar. You were pretty convinced for a moment yourself.

“Right,” Marci drawled, reaching to the desk to pick up the marriage certificates, “I guess I’ll see you at the reception. Jack is so looking forward to seeing you, Y/n.”

You nodded, though your hand balled into a fist. In any other tone, maybe her parting words could have sounded like a warm invitation, but to you, they were a threat.

The moment she disappeared out the door and you were alone again, Bucky let out an exasperated sigh.

“She’s… something else,” he grunted. “We should get going if we want to make it to cocktail hour before all the shrimp are gone.”

“Thought you weren’t going to eat?” you chuckled under your breath, the tension fading from your muscles and Bucky must have felt it because his hand snaked back down your arm and into your own.

“Never said I wouldn’t steal one or two off your plate,” he grinned back, leading you to the door and away from your brief sanctuary. You didn’t feel as afraid stepping out of this room when you had Bucky’s hand encased in your own.

***

You didn’t know how you would have survived if it wasn’t for Bucky at your side. The entire cocktail hour, guests gathered in the luxurious ballroom halls, standing around high-top tables with tiny appetizers and mingling amongst themselves. Some were old friends from college, others were extended family you recognized from your time with Jack. They all sent incredibly unsubtle glances in your direction as they whispered to one another.

“The shrimp are overcooked,” Bucky grumbled, though you knew full well they were cooked to perfection and he was just trying to make you feel better. “You sure you don’t want to skip this joint and go to that ice cream shop I was telling you about? I hear it's incredible. I’m tellin’ ya, doll.”

“I’m sure, Bucky,” you said with a soft smile, though as you watched him press his lips into a thin line and nod, your stomach ached a little. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ll be—I’ll be fine on my own.”

“What? No way,” Bucky shook his head as he grabbed another plate of shrimp from a waiter as he passed by. “I’m not going anywhere. Just wanted to give you an out if you needed it. I love weddings, even if they’re for cheating, asshole ex boyfriends. You should see me on the dance floor. You’ll regret ever knowing me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you mumbled under your breath as Bucky took another bite of shrimp. He smiled at you and you weren’t sure if he’d heard you or not, but your heart was swelling to five times its size and you were certain you’d be devastated when the night ended.

The waiters began to guide the guests to the main ballroom and you shuffled in behind Bucky, holding tight to his hand as he led you to where your name plate was listed. As you came up on the table, you realized there wouldn’t be a seat for him.

He noticed too, but he didn’t say a word as he sank down into your chair, and patted his thigh. You froze, narrowing your eyes on him as a heat burned in your face but he started to chuckle, waving you off before he stood and offered you the chair.

“Only joking, Y/n,” he smiled sweetly as you sat down. He crouched next to you, as not to obstruct the view of the incoming wedding party from the guests behind him.

As the announced the bridesmaids and groomsmen, even as Marci came dancing out from behind the double doors, you managed to keep your composure. That was, until Jack and Lena were announced and they sauntered out into the ballroom to enthusiastic applause, smiling widely at one another and so clearly in love it made your stomach twist into painful knots.

You weren’t in love with Jack. That was never the issue, though you wondered if that was what Bucky thought as he watched you carefully as Jack and Lena prepared for their first dance as a married couple, the song echoing through the speakers one on a playlist you had made him for his twenty-first birthday.

No, you didn’t love Jack, not anymore, but you wondered constantly why he never seemed to love you. He certainly couldn’t have then if he left you so easily and you hadn’t even known at the time it was for another woman.

He had said he wanted to look at better options but you always thought it was hypothetical. You didn’t realize he had already found someone else, someone better. You wondered if you were broken; wondered why the one man you’d ever loved, ever given yourself over to wholly, could leave you like you had meant nothing to him.

That was why watching him with Lena was so painful. He was capable of great love and kindness and compassion, but he’d never looked at you with even an ounce of the way he looked at her.

You must have been gripping the edge of the chair tight enough for your muscles to twitch because Bucky’s hand gently sat over yours. He turned to you with a sad kind of smile and that sweet look in his eyes and you wondered if maybe he would find someone better than you, too.

The dance ended and the crowd erupted into applause; the happy couple beaming and thanking their guests as the DJ started to play upbeat music. You watched at Jack led Lena to the head table, offering her to pull out her chair and you rolled your eyes.

“Alright, let’s go,” Bucky huffed, jumping back up to his feet and holding out his hand. You narrowed your eyes, lips pursing.

“What are you—”

“Time to dance, doll. Let’s go,” he said again, prying your hand away from the back of the chair when you refused to budge and started to tug you to the clearly empty dance floor. He yanked you enough to get you on your feet and you were already panicking.

“Bucky! No! This is—this is a bad idea,” you whispered frantically as Bucky dragged you to the center of the dance floor and you darted your head around the room looking for people to laugh and point but no one was playing attention, certainly not as Bucky started to sway his hips and several couples came up to the dance floor to join you.

“It only takes a few people to get the party started,” Bucky shrugged, gesturing to the now packed dance floor as he danced along to the beat, though you remained completely still. He grunted, grabbing onto your shoulders and forcibly moving you in a swaying motion until you started to laugh and he grinned, letting you go as you danced on your own.

***

You didn’t leave the dance floor for nearly an hour, shouting out the lyrics to songs you didn’t even know you had memorized until sweat beaded on your forehead and you forgot who’s wedding you were at in the first place. Bucky was infectious, in every sense of the term; his joy, his laugh, his smile, his overwhelming selflessness. He dropped everything the moment he sensed you were upset and he barely even knew you. What would he do if he’d known you for days? Months? Years?

As he laughed at himself for nearly tripping over his own foot as he spun you around, you wondered if maybe there was something more beyond the stranger who approached you in the airport earlier that morning.

That was, until the DJ announced he was going to “cool things down” and the upbeat music faded into acoustic guitar and slow melodies.

You stumbled slightly in your stance, looking around awkwardly to the couples as they held onto their loved ones, others retreating back to their seats with tired groans. You started to back away to save yourself from the embarrassment of it all, but then, Bucky’s hand latched onto yours.

You turned back to him with wide eyes and you were only met with that beaming grin of his as he pulled you hard enough to come crashing back against his chest. Your hair flew into his face, hand gripping onto the lapel of his jacket for support.

He let out that laugh of his that made your stomach weak as his hand snaked around your waist, holding you still against him but giving you the leeway to move if you wanted to escape. His free hand gently pushed the hair away from your face as he started to sway softly, guiding you along with him and you were sure your breath was locked in your lungs.

“Don’t tell me you were gonna abandon me, doll?”

You chewed on your lip, looking just about anywhere but his eyes. “I don’t usually… um… slow dance.”

“What? Jack never dance with you?” Bucky teased, though you could hear the hint of bitterness behind his voice as he stole a glance over at the head table. When you didn’t respond because you simply couldn’t stand the humiliation of admitting he was right, Bucky clenched his jaw tightly, muscle twitching in the effort. His smile was tense now, though he tried to push aside his anger. “Well screw him. I’m dancing with you, ain’t I? And you’re wonderful at it. Poor sucker doesn't even know what he’s missing.”

You smiled sadly at him as his fingers rubbed careful patterns into the small of your back, encouragingly, reassuringly, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder. The action must have surprised him because you felt his breath hitch, though he relaxed just as quickly, humming along to the song. Off key and still like honey, like the moments before you met him.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, swaying gently with him until you unclasped your right hand from his left and wrapped both arms around his neck, his at your waist. Two, three songs passed by and you held him close, listening to the soft brushes of his breath and the fluttering of his heartbeat.

Leaning back slightly because you simply had to know what was going on in his head, you were met with startling blue eyes, though softened and longing for something you couldn’t quite believe. He swallowed, eyes flickering down at your lips.

“Bucky,” you whispered his name, unsure of what you even wanted to say when he was looking at you like that. Your heart was pounding in your chest, thunderous and exhilarated, as he leaned in closer. His breath ghosted against your lips and you swore the entirety of time stopped in that instant, up until the moment a disgruntled cough beside you pulled you both from your daze.

You both flinched at the sound as the elderly woman coughed again, turning to face her as she scowled in your direction before she smiled sweetly at Bucky. She was carrying a handkerchief in her hand, patched of bright red lipstick on the white cloth.

“You looked like a strong young man,” she started and Bucky sent you a glance that made you chuckle, biting on your lip to suppress it before the woman could notice. “My nephew needs some assistance in carrying some of the alcohol barrels from the truck.”

“Kegs?” Bucky asked with a light laugh and she nodded.

“Won’t you be a dear? I’m sure your date won’t mind,” she said, shaking her handkerchief in your direction though she didn’t spare you a glance. You supposed it was something to get used to around Bucky; women of all ages fawning over him, if you ever got the chance to even try to get used to it.

Bucky clenched his jaw, exhaling a tight breath from his nose. “Ma’am, I would, but I’d rather not leave my--”

“Go,” you offered, stepping back from him and pulling away his hands from your waist. He frowned, smile falling instantly but you brushed your hand over his cheek, drawing it back almost instantly. “I’ll be fine, Buck. Go. You won’t be long.”

He nodded and the elderly woman grinned, exposing yellowed teeth with lipstick stains mixed in.

“Be back the second I can,” he promised, grabbing your hand on his cheek and pulling it to his lips, kissing at the knuckles chastely and you were sure your heart stopped beating entirely. He stepped back, offering his arm to the woman as she walked him in the direction of her nephew, leaving you alone on the dance floor surrounded by couples.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to get some air. Without Bucky by your side, the room felt incredibly lonely again and you found yourself searching for a glass of bourbon. Quickly grabbing one from the bartender and making your way outside past the double doors to the back patio, a fresh wave of air hit you and you relaxed instantly.

You looked out to the skyline of the city and sun setting in the distance and flourish colors painting the sky. It was a wonder you stumbled upon something so beautiful. You took a sip of the bourbon, hoping Bucky would find you again before the sun disappeared behind the buildings because you hated the thought of him missing something as incredible as this.

Leaning against the railings, you took a moment to get lost in the sunset. But then, a few minutes later, a hand settled on your shoulder that made your heart jump enough to nearly drop your glass onto the patio floor.

You shrieked, hand clutching to your heart as you steadied the glass in your hand to find Jack holding his hands up defensively at his sides. Your eyes went wide, jaw clenching, and you cursed yourself for even thinking you could get through this wedding without ever having to talk to him.

“It’s good to see you, Y/n,” Jack grinned, eyes falling up and down your figure and you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, keeping your glass close to your lips because you’d surely need another sip soon. He smirked though his eyes were cold. “You look good.”

“You, too,” you said awkwardly, looking around at the scenery to avoid his eyes. “Congratulations, by the way. Lena is stunning.”

Jack nodded, hands slipping into his pockets as he glanced back into the reception area. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?”

You swallowed nervously, tapping your foot and silently begging Bucky to find you before you made a complete fool of yourself.

Jack took a step closer to you, staring down at you from his height like a hawk stalking prey. You realized then, that he always made you feel owned, powerless. He didn’t love you in the way you thought he did, the way you so naively thought he was capable of. It wasn’t until you met Bucky that you got even a glimpse of what it felt like to truly be wanted, to be enjoyed, and you’d only known him for a day. He taught you more about what it meant to love someone than Jack did in three years.

“I didn’t think you’d come, actually,” Jack said with a shrug, “after how badly you took the breakup and all.”

You clenched your jaw so tight your muscles ached within seconds. You remembered that day well; with the tears streaming down your face and his cold, hard demeanor as he watched you beg him to stay without an ounce of remorse. You never thought you’d survive that night, but you had, and you did, and you still were, and maybe you were finding a way to forget it.

“I saw you run out of the ceremony, you know,” he said slowly, his hand pushing out to run along your arm and you shivered involuntarily, both revolted by his touch and unable to walk away. “I know you’re still in love with me, baby. It’s okay to admit it.”

You shook your head, “no, I—I'm--”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/n,” Jack purred, his hand snaking up into your hair and cupping your cheek. Your breaths were uneven, shaken, and you didn’t have the strength to pull away. Whether it was because of his lingering power over you or the fact that you were outside in the dark, alone with him that forced you still, you didn’t know.

“I’m not--”

“You don’t have to make up some fake boyfriend to get my attention.” Jack brushed his thumb over your mouth and you closed your eyes, unwilling to watch the way he licked at his own lips in the movement. “We both know that you won’t do better than me, baby. I was your best option. You’ll have to find a way to accept that I’ve found mine and... it wasn’t you.”

Your jaw was quivering. He had you exactly where you were three years ago. Lost. Insecure. Broken. The amber liquid in your glass was rippling as your hand trembled.

“There you are, sweetheart! I was looking everywhere for you,” Bucky’s voice carried out into the patio in rush of relief as you quickly stepped away from Jack’s hold on your face. Wearing a bright smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, Bucky jogged out to meet you and tossed his arm around your waist, tugging you close enough to press a kiss to your cheek that drew a gasp from your lungs.

Jack narrowed his eyes suspiciously on Bucky. “You must be ‘the boyfriend.’” He wasn’t convinced.

“That’s me,” Bucky grinned, pulling you tighter against him, protectively. “Listen man, the ceremony was beautiful but I gotta apologize for sneaking out mid-way through.”

Your eyes widened, heart jumping, as Jack furrowed his brow. You had no idea where Bucky was going with this and you were terrified to find out. You tried stepping on his foot, pinching his side, but he pressed on, urged by the scowl Jack was sending in your direction.

“You know how it is when you see your girl all dolled up and you just can’t keep your hands off her,” Bucky shrugged casually and though you could tell it was an act, Jack couldn’t. He would have laughed it off it was any other woman, but it was you, and he certainly didn’t believe for a second that Bucky could feel that way about you.

“Church or not,” Bucky continued, “I just couldn’t keep myself together. Thought I was gonna lose it if I couldn’t have her right then. But I’m sure you remember how it is.”

Jack nodded tensely though he was lying through his teeth. He never wanted you in the way Bucky was describing and you could feel your heart breaking at the thought that no one ever would. Bucky was acting, playing the part he assigned for himself earlier in the evening when he was talking to Marci just to spare you from the humiliation of admitting how truly pathetic you were. He couldn’t possibly be serious, couldn’t actually want those things. Hell, he hardly knew you.

You had to remind yourself again and again that you’d only known Bucky a day and not a lifetime, because it sure as hell felt like an eternity.

“Have a nice night man and congrats,” Bucky said, voice a little flatter, harder. He looked over to the sunset and down to you as he softened. “I’m gonna spend some time with my girl now, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack grumbled, stealing one last look at you before disappearing back into the ballroom.

The second Jack was out of sight, your whole body relaxed. You expected Bucky to jump away from you, shake his hands off awkwardly, but he didn’t budge. He kept his arm draped around your waist, glaring back in Jack’s direction as he mingled with guests beyond the double doors.

“Sorry about all that, doll,” Bucky sighed nervously. “I just saw him touching you like that and how uncomfortable you were and with the bullshit he was saying... I just had to do something.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t meet his eye. Bucky’s hand brushed up against your cheek in startling contrast to the way Jack had touched you, with such a tenderness that his fingertips just barely grazed against your skin. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and sighing gently.

“You’re worth so much more than what he says,” Bucky exhaled, holding you gingerly against him. He believed what he said, that much you could tell, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts racing in the back of your mind telling you that he was wrong, that he was naïve and making you out to be something you’re not, into a whirlwind fantasy of a girl he met in an airport at midnight. You couldn’t be that forever.

“Bucky, you don’t even know me,” you mumbled defeatedly and you could feel Bucky’s thumb brushing over your cheekbone, the clench in his own jaw at your words.

“You really believe that?” he whispered, his breath touching your lips. “You think it takes months or years to know how you feel about someone? I don’t need time to know I like you, to know you’re a good person and you deserve someone who cares about you, not—not someone who’s going to spend years putting you down and making you feel like you don’t matter. You matter, Y/n. You matter to me.”

Tears were welling in your eyes but you pushed them back. “You’ve only known me a day--”

“Then imagine how it’ll be in a week or a month, if you’ll let me stick around,” Bucky smiled, so incredibly sincere and it made your heart flutter. “I meant what I said. I had hoped you’d call. I was thinking I could take you out on a real date and show you this spot in Brooklyn I think you’d like in the park surrounded by flowers and this tiny little vender with the thickest Italian accent you’ll ever hear in your life.”

You laughed a bit at that before you realized and Bucky pressed his lips to your forehead, soft and warm and aching close.

“I never thought you’d call so soon, but believe me when I say I’m happy that you did,” Bucky continued, wrapping both of his arms around your shoulders as you tucked your face against his neck, inhaling the warmth of his scent. He sighed, adjusting his stance but not lessening his hold on you for anything. “I got to see you all dressed up and impress you with my best friend’s suit. Plus, did you see the look on Jack’s face? That asshole finally saw what he was missing out on.”

“That’s sweet, Bucky, but I think he’s just bitter he can’t control me the way he used to,” you shrugged, arms circling around his waist. Cheek pressed to his chest, you listened to the tender thumps of his heartbeat as you gazed out at the stunning array of colors lighting up the sky.

“Who cares what he thinks,” Bucky concluded and you could hear the soft laugh in his voice. He pulled you back after a moment, smiling at you and brushing the crease from your cheek earned from the fold of his lapel. “Can we get out of here now?”

“Yeah, I’m done putting myself through hell,” you nodded, taking his hand as he extended it to you, leading you back into the ballroom to escape through the front door.

You walked past Jack and Lena as they stood by the cake, ready to cut the first slice, and Jack’s eyes followed you across the ballroom as you trailed behind Bucky, narrowed and bitter. You only pursed your lips at him, the smile not reach your eyes as you gave a subtle wave and followed Bucky out the door.

Marci was lingering in the hallway and she parted her lips to say something but Bucky held up a hand, silencing her before she could speak.

“Sorry Mary, we’re heading out,” Bucky waved and her whole face scrunched up in anger as she grumbled her name under her breath. You burst into laughter as Bucky turned over his shoulder to wink at you as he threw open the double doors, leading you out into the cold, crisp air.

You might have expected for him to drop your hand the moment you were free from the lingering stares of Jack and Marci, but he didn’t. He held it firm in his own as he led you down the sidewalk, amongst the busy nightlife and under the blanket of dark blue freckled in stars.

A chill swept up your spine and Bucky only released your hand for a moment to shrug his jacket off his shoulders and swing it around yours.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly, though the warmth of it and the smell of him flooding your senses make it incredibly difficult to object. Bucky shook his head, helping you slide your arms into the sleeves and though it draped loosely around you, he smiled like you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“I’ve got long sleeves and pants, doll,” Bucky chuckled, grabbed your hand again and swinging it by his side as he kept pace, “and you have neither. I’m good.”

“Only if you’re sure,” you mumbled, snuggling into the jacket and leaning just a few inches closer to him with every step.

“Oh, I’m definitely sure. Might let you keep it and everything. Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you side this was your friend’s suit.”

“Steve won’t mind,” he shrugged with a grin. “The guy’s about twice his own size by now. He wore this back in his transition phase between being a twig and full-blown Adonis. I doubt he could fit into it these days.”

“It’s such a good color on you, Bucky, I’d hate to miss the opportunity to see you in it again,” you teased, surprised by the confidence in your own voice and for the first time, Bucky nearly choked on his own words.

“Yeah, well I guess you’ll have to return it to me next time, then.” He beamed at you and though it was dark and he was barely illuminated by the light of the streetlamps, you could see the slight flush in his cheeks.

You walked with Bucky nearly ten minutes before he pulled you to a slow stop in front of an ice-cream shop with stickers in the windows and two teenagers sitting on the counter, talking to one another with cell phones in their hands and bright red t-shirts displaying the name of the shop across the back.

“This was my plan in the event you wanted to ditch,” Bucky explained, pulling you up to the counter. “Google has it at 4.6 stars so it better be just-went-to-an-ex's-wedding-and-he's-still-a-huge-fucking-asshole good.”

You laughed, shoving Bucky’s shoulder and the teenagers behind the counter must have caught onto your presence. One came jumping up to the counter with blonde hair thrown in a messy bun on the top of her head and rows of hair ties on her wrist. She grinned at Bucky before glancing back at her friend. You laughed under your breath, knowing this would just have to be something to get used to if Bucky was really going to stick around. You were working on believing him.

“I’ll take a Rocky Road, and,” he turned to you, “what do you want, doll?”

“Mint chocolate chip,” you answered, clinging onto his arm and watching excitedly as the girl in the back of the shop started to scoop.

It had been ages since you’d been to a small ice cream shop like this, run by local teenagers at absence hours and has probably been around for decades. There wasn’t even anywhere to sit but you figured it had to be good if it was still standing amongst all the hipster joints and cafes.

Bucky paid for the ice cream before you could even notice and he handed you your cone with a grin. You pouted at him and took the cone gratefully. It was cold on your teeth as you licked around the sides, but it was perfection. Definitely worth those 4.6 stars. Might even be fall-in-love-with-the-handsome-stranger-at-the-airport good.

“Thank you,” you said as you went in for another scoop, lapping up the melting drips as it threatened to slip down your hand. Bucky watched you amusingly, chuckling sweetly as he gestured to a bench sitting facing a small park.

As you sat down, Bucky’s arm draped around your shoulders over the back of the bench. He settled in next to you and you found yourself scooting closer to him. You sat in silence together, just watching the birds at the played in the tiny fountain a few feet away and giggling as Bucky tried to avoid getting chocolate stains on his white shirt. You took your last bite and wiped the edges of your lips with your napkin, looking up to Bucky to find he had finished too.

“You have a bit of, um,” you laughed nervously as he furrowed his brow. Stretching up, you licked the edge of your thumb before you brought it to the corner of his lips, swiping at the chocolate on his cheek. Bucky bit his lip, face heating slightly as he watched you, though once the chocolate was gone, you made no effort to pull away.

“Thanks,” he sighed, like a plea in his voice giving you the courage you needed and you surged forward, capturing his lips in your own.

It didn’t take more than a second for Bucky to respond as your hands cupped at his cheeks, drawing him closer and his arms snaked around your waist. His lips were cold, tasting of chocolate and almonds that only intensified as he parted his lips further, his tongue sweeping at your own and you choked back a moan. His hands roamed around your hips, gentle and longing, and holding you as close as he could manage because even with your lower lip between his own, it wasn’t enough.

But then, the sharp ring of his phone echoed through the park, startling you enough to force you to jump back, panting, lips swollen in the kiss and Bucky groaned. He sent you an apologetic grimace as he glanced down at the caller ID, his whole body slumping as he lifted it to his ear.

“Hey ma,” Bucky answered, his voice already drained in the effort. “’Course I’ll be there. Why would you think I’d back out?... Does she know yet?... I’m trying my best here ma but I can’t guarantee she’ll--... No, you don’t understand I’m--… Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow.”

Bucky hung up the phone, a dejected look on his face as he slid it back into his pocket. “I really wish she would have chosen just about any other moment to call.”

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek and he started to relax a little.

“You helped me forget about tomorrow for a while,” he said, rubbing his hand over your thigh. “Don’t know the last time anyone was able to get me out of my own head. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck,” you whispered sincerely. “You’re the one that crashed the wedding. You showed up all on your own. Didn’t even invite you or anything.”

Bucky laughed, drawing the crinkles by his eyes and the warm-hearted smile you adored. He sighed, letting out a heavy exhale before he spoke again, though he kept his gaze straight ahead. “Do you think—Is there any way you’d want to-- Would you maybe--”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, not even having to take a second to think. He turned to you with wide eyes, surprised. “Yes, Bucky, I’ll go with you. You helped me through today, didn’t you? You made an unbearable situation... fun. I know it’s not the same and I know this is family and it’s fragile, but if you want some support, if you want someone to hold your hand and remind you that you’re incredibly selfless and strong and kind and that under it all, your sister still loves you, no matter what happens, I’m there.”

“You’d do that?” His voice was so small, insecure and lost and you wondered if that was how you sounded to him when you talked about Jack. Broken, hurting. It tore at your heart.

“Absolutely,” you replied, grabbed his hand and pulling him back to his feet. “Come on, now. It’s almost two in the morning. We should get you back to your place before the sun rises if you want to look presentable for this graduation.”

Bucky nodded, dragging his feet playfully as you tugged him towards the road, waving for a taxi. On your first try, a yellow cab pulled up by the curb and you winked at him. He shook his head in awe.

“I ever tell you how happy I am it was you I met in Charlotte?”

“You might have mentioned it,” you shrugged with a grin.

Bucky opened the door for you and gestured for you to slide in but you shook your head.

“My hotel’s right here, actually,” you said pointing to the building across the street. The cab driver started fussing the in the front and Bucky slipping a few dollars through his window just to wait. The was a slight panic in his face, like he wasn’t ready for the night to end so soon.

“Text me the address and when to meet you,” you said, grabbing his hand and playing with the lifelines on his palm. “I’ll be there, Bucky. I promise you aren’t alone in this. I’m with you.”

He nodded quickly, trying to convince himself. The seamless transitions between this flirty, teasing man with confidence unlike anything you’d ever seen and the shy, insecure guy with a guilt complex the size of Brooklyn was baffling to watch, but he was pieces of a whole. He was both at once.

You leaned up onto the tops of your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips; soft, chaste, and gone before he had the chance to deepen it. You smiled at him, gently shoving him down into the taxi as the cab driver started to grumble under his breath again.

“Tomorrow,” you promised and Bucky nodded. Kissing the back of your hand as you slowly pulled away.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed and let you close the door. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the taxi pulled out into the empty road and waited until it disappeared from view.

Once he was gone, you quickly made your way across the street to your hotel, giving a slight wave to the hostess behind the counter. In your room, you shrugged off Bucky’s jacket and hung it up on a hanger from the closet, pressing out the wrinkles and examining it for any drips of light green ice-cream. Then, you changed into your pajamas, wiped your face of makeup and climbed into fresh linen sheets.

To your left, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You picked it up to find a single text.

I’m with you, too.

You held your phone to your chest, smiling so wide it ached in your cheeks. You fell asleep a few minutes later, the phone still clutched in your hand. Bucky’s light blue jacket hanging in the closet.

To believe I walk alone Is a lie that I've been told So let your heart hold fast For this soon shall pass Like the high tide takes the sand [Let Your Heart Hold Fast – Fort Atlantic]

feedback is so so appreciated 💖

tags 🌸 @sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @panic-naran / @fairislesheets / @kaliforniacoastalteens / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @daydreamsquad / @deanssweetheart / @maybesomedaytho / @montypythonsholysnail / @saharzek / @imsoft-barnes / @galaxkay / @vitamingrant / @alohafromhell1 / @happyeyesandsunshine / @hillface89 / @searchingforbucky / @20coldhearts / @past-perfect-future-tense / @bucknasty-barnes / @clarysthing / @denimandcabernet / @ohthedevilsanus / @sarcasm-ing / @yknott81 / @jackie-houston / @michelehansel / @sanniegirl1214 / @grey-water-colors

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel

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hebescus · 4 years ago

Text

some things stay forever somehow

eyyy it’s the 4th day!

this was actually a scrap, i sent the rough version of it in the 7K discord server and they liked it??? so i just decided to fuck it, i’m taking this seriously so here we are. Enjoy this unecessarily oddly detailed lil piece.

@alistairwrites here’s my lil piece i hope you enjoy it!

—

The wind blew through his hair, the warm ambience and the crackling fire sound relaxing him as he absentmindedly leaned to his cousin’s side. Varian always loved campfires, there’s something oddly familiar about their warmth, it felt like he just belonged there, in front of the crackling fire. Campfires always gave him this odd feeling of longing, yearning, but fulfilled at the same time. And he always craves that feeling.

That’s why he was really excited when Eugene–his cousin–asked him to join a small camping event together. He knew nobody but Eugene and Rapunzel–his girlfriend. It was a college event after all, and he was still in senior high school. Plus, socializing wasn’t the reason why he came, so he didn’t bring himself to care.

So far, the first night was nice. Eugene and Rapunzel introduced him to a few of their friends and he actually really liked them. He cried laughing by Lance’s story, he had a great time discussing things with Cassandra’s critical and smart opinions, and more. Well, they were obviously different from Nuru or Yong who were his age but he had a great time with them.

“You seemed really intrigued with campfires, kid. Care to share something?” He snapped out of his daydream to find Lance sat on the ground next to him, he didn’t even realize Eugene left a minute ago. He smiled, warmth crept on his body thinking about all the feelings he felt.

“I don’t know…it just felt like I belonged here. I always want to come back, I feel satisfied to be here. But at the same time I…I long for something, there’s like something’s missing but I don’t- ah, I don’t know Lance,” he rambled. Lance gave him a nod as if a sign that he wanted Varian to continue. “I love the warmth, the noises, the ambience…I never felt better when I’m here, It’s confusing, really, I don’t even know why,”

“Hmmm, I see,” Lance answered. His eyes fixated on the burning woods a thinking expression. “I know this might be craaazy for you, but someone from my orphanage once said that if you feel some kind of familiar, longing, addicted feelings about certain something or situations, that means you have a special experience with them in your past life,”

“That sounds like a kids bedtime story if you ask me,” Varian shrugged but he immediately felt bad for being a little bit ignorant, so he corrected his words, “I mean, that’s real sweet, but-”

“Well, I’m not finished yet! They even said that you met someone that makes you feel more connected to the situation, and the longing feeling just gone, that means they were connected to that situation in the past and was important to you,” he continued. “They even called it soulmate, if you even believe in one,” Lance raised his eyebrow, a confusing look between agree or disagree with that statement. And Varian…well, he just cringed. Hard.

“Yep, I don’t like how that sounds,” Varian laughed. “But that’s just my personal opinion, I don’t really believe in that kinda stuff,” Lance hadn’t given him any clue whether he actually agreed with that statement or not, after all.

“Ah, it’s fine, really. A science based guy like you must like something logical, right?” Varian nodded and gave him a small smile before he continued. “I mean, that’s just a little thing you gotta plant in your head because who knows? Maybe it’s real, we just haven’t found out just yet,” he said with an unreadable soft expression. Eugene was not wrong when he said Lance was their dad friend. After that, someone called Lance for help and then he was alone again with his thoughts and the campfire.

“Shit- hey!” Varian’s silence was distubed by a squeal from behind him. He looked back and saw a man being strangled by a wild raccoon who looked like he was trying to steal a fish kabob from the man’s hand. He couldn’t see them clearly–thanks to the night lighting–but he could make out what’s going on. “Ey! Get off me!”

“Uh hey! You…alright?” Varian wasn’t really into the idea of talking to people that’s not introduced by Eugene or Rapunzel, but the man seemed like he needed a little help.

“Can’t you see?! This little- ugh, creature trying to steal my last kabob!” He answered while trying to balance his food and fight the raccoon off. Varian chuckled at that sight, reconsidered his childhood dream of wanting a pet raccoon.

“I think you should just give it to him,” Varian laughed.

“Are you crazy?! This is my las-” Varian cut him off by holding up a plate full of kabobs that Rapunzel gave him earlier.

“Not a big fan of fishies so…you want some?” The man grinned, quickly dropped his kabob to the ground and let the raccoon eat it as he practically ran towards the other boy.

“Oh God, yes, this is like- very good, thank you-” the man said as he snatched the plate out of Varian’s hand, immediately chewing the vegetables and sat next to the blue eyed boy.

Varian took a proper look at him as he ate. He didn’t look much older than him, he had a strong jawline and sharp looks on his face, circular glasses hung on his nose, blond hair neatly tied above his undercut, and…he looked kinda attractive for some reason? Or maybe he just liked the way that faded green sports jacket clung on his white printed tee and ripped blue jeans that complimented his long legs- and why the hell you care so much about that, Varian?

“Listen, I know I’m hot, but staring at people who’re eating is rude,” the man said with furrowed eyebrows, still chewing his food. Varian would think it’s kinda cute if he didn’t just call him rude.

“Is it though? I’m sorry then, I never saw anyone being attacked by a raccoon for a freaking kabob before,” he shrugged playfully. The older just laughed, Varian nearly thought he got a special connection with kabobs because God damn, he inhaled it.

“Well, I’ve never seen you before, hairstripe. Are you new or something?” The man asked, already on his last skewer. Varian was confused by the nickname for a bit before he realized that it’s probably from the blue streak. He dyed it two years ago and still refused to change it.

“No serious business, I just love camping- Well, actually, I’m just joining my cousin, Eugene. You know him?” he shrugged, but then he realized he haven’t introduce hims-

“Yes, of course. That means you’re…uh, what is it- ah! yes, Varitas?”

“Actually, it’s Varian,” Varian tried to not roll his eyes and let out a chuckle instead.

“Ohh, yeah, Varian- I’m sorry. Flynn talked about you a bunch of times,”

“Flynn?”

“Yeah, that’s…kind of an inside joke nickname we gave him,” he answered, placing the empty plate on the ground. “Well, nice to meet you, freckles. I’m Hugo, your cousin’s partner in crime,"

—

The first night went very well. They kept talking to each other until it was late. Late enough that everyone who’s playing games with them at some point went back to their tents, someone even gave the leftover kabobs–luckily for Varian, it was chicken–before she headed off to her tent. The raccoon came back, Hugo reluctantly shared some vegetables with them while Varian laughed and randomly decided to name them Ruddiger, which ironically is Varian’s middle name.

That night, Varian learned that Hugo was only a year older than him. He was a freshman, the youngest person in Eugene’s circle–they knew each other from being in the same basketball club. He also learned that Hugo majored in science, just like he wanted to be. He loved camping for the campfires just like Varian. Although, he learned much more about the older from his observation. He loves calling people with nicknames, he had this unique trait such as naming most of his stuff, he would snuggle on his jacket when the wind got chilly, he would scrunch his nose when he disagreed about something, and he was really smart. He didn’t know why he paid that much attention to the little details, but for now, all he can say is that he was indeed interested in this guy.

—

The second night rushed in. They were exhausted from all of the fun activities they did in the day with some friends. They went swimming, played a bunch of sports, they even had a little acoustic session at sunset. But at the end of the day, they would sit there in front of the campfire, Varian with his comfortable beanie and Hugo with his warm jacket.

"Today was really fun, don’t you think?” Varian asked softly. His thought ran around the events that happened that day. It gave his stomach some funny feelings. It started when Hugo gave him his shirt after swimming–no one told Varian to bring any backup clothes. He swore he saw a pink tint on his cheeks and a really soft little smile on his lips before a friend turned his attention away from the younger. Then their hand would brush against each other while trekking, occasionally interlocked them together on a steep path. He also still remembers when Hugo hugged his head and yelled at his friend for accidentally hitting Varian’s head with a volleyball. He somehow couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his fingers on his hair.

And then the little acoustic session. Oh God, he didn’t know what to feel about that. He was challenged by Cass to sing because she knew he didn’t like to sing in public. He didn’t care that much at first, but once the first line came out of his lips, Varian just lost his ability to speak. Who knew that the kabob guy he met last night had an extremely angelic voice. It was a really romantic song and the fact that Hugo kept staring at him the whole time just made his heart stop. He is in fact no head over heels for the guy he just met last night, right?

“Yeah it is. I don’t feel like going home tomorrow,” he frowned. “I just want to be here…in the middle of whatever forest is this, by this campfire and the warmth- just doing nothing and…talking to-you. It’s nice to have a campfire company like you, hairstripe,”

Varian’s stomach went weird again and his freckled cheeks went slightly pink. But immediately fought it off with a little ‘thank you’ and changed the topic and had a whole new, endless conversation again.

One thing that he realized is that the more they talked, the warmer he got. He could feel this odd yet familiar kind of comfort and connection that somehow he only got when Hugo was around and he only knew him for one day.

It was nearly three in the morning when one of Hugo’s friend came out of his tent, scolding them for being out so late and just initiated to extinguish the fire- for some unknown grumpy reason.

But that didn’t stop them from talking about a random meme on Varian’s phone that got them laughing a little too loudly. Varian then started to ramble about this funny childhood story that was connected to the meme, when a rush of cold wind made his body shivers. He tried to fight it off by keeping on talking, but Hugo noticed that.

“You cold, hummingbird?” Hugo asked, starting to take off his jacket.

“A little, but it’s fine,” however, his body couldn’t lie as he tugges his short sleeves begging for some warmth.

“And you think I would believe that?” The older chuckled, shoved his jacket to the other’s chest.

“How about you-” he was cut by Hugo’s facepalm as he T posed and showed every side of his hoodie.

“I have layers, bean,” the blond said smugly while his hand slightly fixed the younger’s beanie. Varian smiled and put the jacket on. It was the second clothing that Hugo borrowed him but this one is definitely better than the shirt. It smelled like…Hugo. He didn’t know how to describe it, but he enjoyed it,

Maybe a little too much.

—

He decided that he didn’t want to be away from that blond boy. It was only two days but he swore he really really liked him. Yes, he finally admitted it. The second that jacket was clung on his body, he knew all the feelings just crashed together. And he was scared, because right now everything was packed and they were all ready to go home. He stared at the older’s back who’s laughing with his friends and carrying supplies to a car. He really didn’t want him to go.

Varian tugged the green jacket closer to his body, trying to memorize every warmth before he gave it back. He took a deep breath and walked towards Hugo.

“Uh, Hugh,” he called nervously.

“Oh, hey there, hairstripe. Need help with something?”

“Umm, no, I just want to say thank you…for these past two days, I really, really enjoyed it. It’s been nice to know you,” he smiled softly as his fingers started to unzip the jacket and take off the jacket. “And I guess you left your-”

“No, please keep it,” Hugo cut him off, his hand gripped the left pocket of the jacket and halted the younger’s move. “Olivia looks good on you,” Oh, did he mention that his favorite jacket was named 'Olivia’? Because Varian thought it was adorable.

He was about to thank him when the older stepped closer and pecked his lips softly, leaving him absolutely breathless and flustered.

“See you later, goggles,” Hugo smiled, walking away from Varian and approached his friends. He had so many thoughts but the last nickname was kind of confusing. He called him sweet cheeks, blue, hairstripe, freckles, shortstack, bean, hummingbird, but where did goggles come from? It was weirdly…familiar. It was the same weird feelings with the sudden connection he got with that boy.

He stayed silent on the road. Thinking about that handsome prick who stole his heart just like that, thinking about his lips on his own and how it should be longer than just a single peck, thinking about their connections, his weird last nickname…his head just screamed 'Hugo, Hugo, Hugo’ and he loved it. He loved every single thought about him.

Once he got home, he quickly greeted his dad and changed his clothes. He was about to hang the jacket to the back of his door when a piece of paper fell from the left pocket.

'xxx-xxx-xxxx,

Would you mind for another talk, sweet cheeks?

Love, Hugh’

He smiled at the paper like he never smiled before then he jumped around his room and quickly grabbed his phone. One thing he realized when he was typing the number; the second he laid his eyes on Hugo, the longing feeling of the campfire just gone, replaced by a satisfied, fulfilled warmth and connection that made the campfire felt better and better when he was around.

Guess Lance’s little story wasn’t a bedtime fairytale anymore.

—

The air was cold, but the fire warmed their body as they leaned on each other’s side. Nuru and Yong were fast asleep in their tents, tired from the long day of journey plus the challenging trial.

“Hugh,” the younger called, intertwining his hand with Hugo’s, today’s event brought their feelings together and they could never be more grateful. “If you can keep a moment forever with you. What would it be?”

“Forever?”

“Yeah, forever,”

“It’s pretty simple actually,” the older answered with such sweetness in his voice. “It would be now,”

“Uh…what do you mean by 'now’?” Hugo laughed at his lover’s obliviousness.

“To be here with you…in the middle of whatever forest is this, by this campfire and its warmth- just doing nothing and…talking to-you. It’s really lucky of me to have a company like you, hairstripe,” he answered softly.

“That’s…what I want to be kept forever too, even if we have another life I want this kind of moment to stay,” he slightly cringed at his sudden sappiness but he was too in love to care. “I love you,” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss the older.

“I love you too, goggles”

#varigo #varigo appreciation week #varigo week 2020 #alchemy boyfriends #varian the alchemist #tts varian #hugo the human #tts hugo #tangled the series #varian and the 7 kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k #vatsk #varigo fic #fic #my fic #my writings

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foolishlovebugbaby · 5 years ago

Text

ten-thousand miles gone

prologue

summary: they say time heals all wounds, but the one left by han jisung on your heart is one that you still treat tenderly. alternatively; han jisung reappears into your life like a whirlwind, knocking you off of your feet, after leaving you without a goodbye.

genre: angst

warnings: nothing triggering or rated

word count: 6k

note: in my head, the mind map of the way this particular fic ended went in so many directions, but this was very draining to write so i settled on the one that wouldn’t leave you hanging.

been travelling these wide roads for so long my heart’s been far from you ten-thousand miles gone

In your younger years, life had always seemed to move gradually. Time seemed to be muffled by all the firsts and seconds that came and went like waves, distracting everyone from the reality of growing pains. But college certainly ripped off that bandaid, a cushion no longer supporting your fall into the harsh realities of life.

Second semester of sophomore year had just ended, so now every college student across the country was making a beeline for the airports and bus stations, with tickets home clasped tightly between hands that were potentially developing carpal tunnel syndrome. Luckily for you, home was two train rides and a taxicab away. But like all your independent adventures of navigating life unhinged, no journey would be complete without twenty-something voicemails from your mother telling you to padlock your luggage and some vague, superstitious advice she read on Facebook.

[To ma: yes, i didnt forget to pack your scarf and no, im not going to drink ginger and ginseng to ward off bad train spirits.]

[From ma: thank you. suit yourself , you will be bad spirit magnet !]

You chuckle and shove your phone into your pocket, hailing a cab with one hand while the other slings an abnormally large duffle bag over your shoulder. “North-Hill train station please.” You say to the cab driver and shove your luggage into the seat next to you.

You let out a tired sigh and slump into the pleather seats. Butterflies swarmed your stomach- you always seemed to get them whenever you went back home. Back to the place of some of your greatest and worst memories. Somehow, through the years, the fear of seeing him again in that godforsaken town died down, because the thought of ever being able to see him again at all proved itself to be almost impossible.

Even a fool knows this, you’re the best thing I’ve got…

You almost choke on your spit when that song comes on the radio. Of course that song had to come on so conveniently in the middle of your trip down melancholy lane. You have half a mind to reach over and turn the radio off, but decide against it when you see the cute old man bobbing his head to it.

So instead your mind traces its steps back a few moments until all you’re reminded of is him.

In your head you remember all these great experiences- graduation day, senior prom, camp nights during wintertime and summer carnivals down at the boardwalk. But then your mind tortures you and conjures up these images of what it would’ve been like to have experienced it all with him next to you and suddenly the memories become less fond. It’s treacherous, really, being your own worst enemy. But you learnt the hard way that time slows down for no one.

When you get to the train station, you move in a daze. The muscle memory of validating your ticket and walking to the platform does all the work for you. And usually that would be a good thing, except now it only allowed you to stay in your head a lot more. It’s funny, really, how everytime you see posters and billboards of his group around you don’t flinch. Not anymore at least. Because you don’t know him anymore, and he’s probably forgotten about you.

Sometimes, you’re convinced he was just a character that your very active imagination conjured up to fill gaps in your life with meaning. But every time you open a picture of the pair of you way back when, you’re met with the reality that he was real. Even if it was just for a short amount of time, he was visible to you. Tangible. And meant galaxies to you.

[From mama han: cant wait 2 see u back again ! have dinner with us soon xoxo]

You smile fondly down at your phone once you’re situated in your seat, typing out a reply to the woman you consider a second mom.

You thanked the universe for still keeping her in your life. Sure, her son would probably be known to you as the biggest jackass to exist for eternity, but she would remain sweet and tender in your heart for longer than that.

[To mama han: can’t wait to see you too:)]

You don’t confirm your spot at their dinner table, because frankly speaking, the last time you stepped foot in their house was the summer before university when you went to drop off a box of jisung’s things that you found in your room- sweatshirts, t-shirt’s, notes and other miscellaneous items that demanded you remember every miniscule moment spent with him. And since then you’ve found every excuse not to go near that place. You knew it probably hurt the woman whenever you conjured up some arbitrary excuse to not dig in to her incredible cooking, but the finger is to be pointed at Han Jisung and Han Jisung only. Screw him.

She sometimes tries to address the elephant in the room whenever you do get to talk during her visits at your childhood home. Like It would be great to have you both visit at the same time or Would you like me to call him? I’m sure he’s not busy right now. Yeah, subtle as a gun, but you love her still.

You’re not one to believe in luck, and if you did you’d actually quite fancy yourself as the most unluckiest person of them all, but you thank the heavens that he’s never been back home the same time as you have. Either that, or you’re just way too good at being further than a 10-mile radius from him. Like last semester break, when you got word from one of your childhood friends that he would be in town so you decided to cancel all your plans of going back home under the guise of going on a group excursion somewhere up north. Obviously, all you did was stay in your dorm and binge watch Gossip Girl for three weeks, but you concluded that anything would be better than having to confront your demons- or demon. Singular.

What would you even say if you saw him? Realistically, not that much. Ideally, you’d destroy him with words. All that pent up anger for him leaving you behind and all the unresolved feelings left to concentrate in an urn you buried deep in yourself exploding like Pandora's box right before him. 5 years passed, and yet you still found it difficult to imagine what a conversation would be like with him again.

Honestly, you’d tell him to stay a while longer, just so that he’d remain vivid in your memories once he decided to leave again.

When the taxi cab pulled up in front of your childhood home, you were half asleep and in desperate need of a solid meal. “Thanks, keep the change,” you say groggily as you pass the money to the driver.

You take a deep breath once you’re out of the car, your duffle bag slung around your frame. It’s been a very long time since you were last here. The months seemed to pile up without you noticing, and now that you think about it, it had been a good whole year that passed. You don’t know where the time went, but you were definitely here now.

You trudge up to the door, ringing the bell once. “Hey ma,” You say as she squeals and pulls you in for a hug. “I’m glad you’re back in one piece, especially since you ignored my advice.” She says pointedly and ushers you in. “Yeah, well, I guess the train spirits didn’t feel like victimising me today.” She looks at you with her mouth hung open and slaps your arm.

“Don’t say that!” She’s about to scold you more when your dad enters the living room in his pajama pants. “My daughter finally decides to show her face around here! Send in the doves!” You always knew that you got your flare for drama from your dad.

“How are you doing sweetie, we missed you.” He gives you a big bear hug and you sigh. “I know, it’s been too long.”

“There is not enough time in this world to mope around! Now, darling, it’s very late so your father and I are off to bed. There’s some leftovers for you in the toaster oven in case you get hungry,” They both smother you in a hug and you almost suffocate. “We’d love to hear all about your university in the morning. Sleep tight honey.”

And so you’re left to your own devices. Again. Sighing, you reluctantly head up the stairs and make your way into your old room. A smile finds its place on your lips.

The room is oddly clean- you figured your mother must have emotionally cleaned in here (more than once) during your time away from home. But the walls are still the same ugly navy blue, and your star-print curtains remained planted in front of your windows with planet decorations all over the ceiling to match. Funny. He helped you decorate. Said it made your room feel like the universe was just the two of you.

You didn’t know that what he really meant was that you were his safe place.

You spend a good thirty-minutes unpacking, tinkering around your old room and texting your friends about your trip home. It feels like an eternity passed when you finally decide to listen to your growling stomach and go get something to eat. But you’re picky and nothing in your kitchen seems to entice you enough to devour it, so you swipe your house keys off the kitchen countertop and head to your door. 7-Eleven it is. You’re dressed in a pair of leggings and a pink sweater with fluffy slides to match, but you could care less.

As you walk out of your driveway and head down your street, you pass by his house. The lights are off (of course, since it’s an ungodly 1AM) and it practically looked like a dollhouse.

You turn your gaze away.

The walk to the local 7-Eleven is only 5 Hozier tracks away, so you reach there in no time. Your tummy growls when you enter, and you immediately head to the instant section. Hmm, ramen, tteokbokki or pasta, choices choices choices…

You’re too busy pondering to notice the figure clad in sweats and a baseball cap standing frozen at the end of the aisle, gaping like a fish your way. He practically isn’t breathing, but your presence had knocked the wind right out of his chest.

“Y-Y/n?” He manages to breathe out, and you look around, confused. Did someone just say my name?

Your eyes slowly turn to his figure, and you can barely see who it is from afar. Tan skin can be seen from the collar under his hoodie, and dirty-blonde hair peeks out at the ends of his baseball cap. You feel like you’re seeing things, because you know that baseball cap. You bought it.

Slowly, your eyes trail over his face, and you feel the air leave your lungs.

Jisung still remembers the last time he saw you. Well, the last time he saw you before he didn’t say goodbye.

It was a Thursday afternoon, History class had just ended. On the way out, he caught a glimpse of you. He hadn’t seen much of you the entire week, but that was because he was actively trying to avoid you. But there you were, at your locker putting away your books with that puppy-dog expression you always wore whenever you were tired and in need of a good nap. He stood for a few moments, taking you in. Even if your hair was messily up in a bun with a hoodie two sizes too big drowning your frame, he still thought you looked like an absolute dream. He wanted to go up to you and ask you how was calculus? And when you pout and say boring, he would suggest you come over for some hot chocolate and a movie. And you would say yes, with a sleepy, lopsided smile, and his body would feel all warm and fuzzy at the sight of you.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he leaves his heart by the lockers, and with one last look, he walks away. His jacket does nothing to warm the cold that creeps its way up.

Had he known he wouldn’t get to see you one last time after that, he would’ve watched you for a few seconds longer. Had he known that you would fall sick and stay home from school the day before his flight, he would have told you to take better care of yourself. And had he known that the last time he’d see you would be when you’re drained and tired and down, he would have gone up to you to make you smile, one last time.

He never stopped recreating pictures of you in his head, fearing the outlines of you would fade.

Except now, as you stand a mere six feet away, he feels as though you stepped out of his mind and into his world once again. He can see you. You’re there.

None of the pictures of you that he drew up in his head would ever compare to the way you looked right then. Beautiful, just as he remembered you.

Your name feels like a foreign language when it leaves his lips.

The air is so thick between the pair of you that it makes everything around him slow down. He sees your eyes move from confusion, to shock, to utter fear and bewilderment, and then to pain. It feels as though a knife impaled his heart when he sees your eyes quiver.

He always loved your eyes. Dark brown, like freshly turned over earth, warmed by the sun. They look at him with sorrow now.

Your arms drop to your sides and your lips quake, “J-Jisung?” God, he forgot what it was like to hear his name in your voice. He hates that it’s said with so much heartache.

You run out without thinking twice.

“Stop, slow down! W-wait!” You hear his voice call out for you, but you continue to run- where? You don’t know. You just wanted to get away. Your feet take you far down the sidewalk, lamp-posts your only source of light at this time of night.

But you’re not fast enough, and for the first time in a long time, you feel his grip on your arm.

“Let go of me,” You say, your voice already breaking. He breaks with it.

“Y/N listen-” He pants out.

“No, let go of me!” You snatch your arm away from his grip. God, you’re furious. And hurt. And every other emotion there is to feel when you see the person who left you with nothing.

Your raised voice startles the two of you, and you both stand there for a moment, breathless. From running, from shock.

He doesn’t say anything and just gapes at you, “Well?” You provoke pointedly. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“No ‘Hey y/n! How’ve you been? Long time no see since, you know, I abandoned you’.” You say harshly and the knife in his heart twists.

“I know you’re hurt-” You cut him off.

“Hurt? Hurt? Hurt doesn’t even come close to what I feel, Jisung.” All the words you want to spew get caught in the back of your throat and you fight yourself to keep it together because you don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to catch you vulnerable and raw, because you don’t know if you can trust him with that part of you again.

“Can we please just- can we please just talk?” He begs, and you scoff. “Please?” His eyes plead with you, and you frustratedly run a hand through your hair.

“So talk.” You cross your arms over your chest and look at anywhere but him. He doesn’t say anything, and each time he tries to, all he does is end up biting his tongue. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” He croaks out, even though it’s the worst thing to say.

“Great. All is forgiven.” You’re ruthless, but that’s only because he didn’t show any mercy when he left.

He searches your eyes, not knowing what he could say to make things right. Or if that was even a possibility anymore. You both stand in silence for a while, and slowly your resolve breaks away.

“Why?” You say, your voice coarse and exhausted. “Why’d you do it? I tortured myself for months- no, years asking myself what I did wrong that caused you to leave me like that. What- was it something I said? Something I did? Please- tell me, I’m begging you,” You’re full-on sobbing now, tears flowing down your face like waves. They twinkle in the warm streetlights and he feels the ground beneath him crumble. The wound he left on your heart was ripped open again, and you couldn’t help but bleed in front of him. “P-please, Jisung. It’s been killing me for so long.”

Tears leave his eyes, “It wasn’t your fault,” He says softly.

“Then what was it? Because for all this time I broke myself down, questioning why you left like that. For so long I thought you were mad at me- I thought you became tired of me, bored of having me around. Do you know what that’s like? Tearing yourself apart to find answers you know you can’t answer by yourself?” “Shit, I thought you didn’t need me anymore. Which sucked, because I needed you.” You whisper through ragged breaths and he takes careful steps closer to you.

“Of course I still needed you- I haven’t stopped needing you, y/n.” His voice is as broken as yours.

“Then why?” Your voice is barely above a whisper and you struggle so hard to not fall to the ground.

“Do you know what it felt like to wake up one morning, clueless and thinking everything was fine, and then finding out that it was, in fact, not? Do you know what it was like to find out the person you cared for the most up and left you alone and with no explanation- not even a single goodbye? To be desperate to hear his voice again, and wonder to yourself why it was so easy for him to cut you off like that?” He stood right in front of you, so close that he could touch you.

“I searched for you. I still looked for you in the hallways at school, hoping it was just one of your stupid pranks. I waited in my room for you to climb up to my window again and whisk me away to the park for one of our late-night walks. I called your phone for days, just in case you’d finally get annoyed and pick up. You never did. You never did,” You didn’t notice that your face was in his hands and that he tried so desperately to wipe your tears away, his own streaming down his face.

He sucked in a breath, “I left like that because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get on that plane with you watching. That I would drop everything, all my stupid dreams, to stay in this stupid town for god knows how long with you. Leaving you was the most painful part,”

“That day I found out I passed the audition- do you remember? You were so happy for me, more happy than I was. The only thing on my mind was the fact that I had to leave everything behind to chase after this dream- to chase after a dream that came true because of you. I wasn’t sure anymore. But you were so sure of me, so ready to see me attain everything we talked about, that the thought of all of that being in vain because of my cowardice ate me up inside. I thought that maybe if I could keep you at a distance- make you mad at me for ignoring you, have you hate me- that it would make it a little easier to let you go of me,” Your lips quiver.

“It wasn’t easy-”

“I know, I know that.” He rests his forehead against yours and squeezes his eyes shut as he hears your soft sobs. “It was so that I wouldn’t have a memory of leaving you behind in an airport. I wasn’t ready to have that image in my mind haunt me. I’ve regretted it everyday. You have to believe me when I say that.”

“Then why didn’t you call back? Or even send a message?” Your eyes search his for answers as you pull your forehead away from his to get a clearer look.

“I thought you hated me. That you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“Bullshit. You thought wrong.” Angrily, you push at his chest with closed fists and shut eyes, “You thought wrong,” You push him away until you’re no longer in his grip. “Let me go,” You whimper when he tries to reach for you again. “That doesn’t justify why you left me like that. I felt like I meant nothing to you for so long. You threw me away like I didn’t mean anything- made me feel like I was insignificant.”

“You meant everything to me!” He shouts out, shocking you into silence. “Don’t you see it?” When you only stare at him in confusion, he sucks in a breath.

“The mere thought of leaving you was enough for me to think twice. Sitting with you in French class and giggling because we didn’t understand a word, spending so many nights with you in your ridiculous dinosaur onesie, getting to walk around aimlessly until 4am in this godforsaken town as if time wasn’t fleeting- I-,” He runs a hand over his face, frustratedly wiping his tears away. “I wasn’t ready for it to be over. I didn’t want to miss graduation, the day we looked forward to since grade school. I didn’t want to facetime you on prom night while you look so goddamn beautiful, knowing that someone else would be getting to slow dance with you. Knowing that I wouldn’t be there, that I would be missing out- that I would be missing you every goddamn day made me realise I wouldn’t be able to last without you.”

“Selfishly ripping you apart from me felt like the only option. And it was so cruel, I know that. I’m the selfish asshole,” He takes exactly five steps to stand in front of you, and places a hand tenderly on your cheek.

“I was selfish because I knew I couldn’t have you. I was in love with you, y/n. So fucking in love and you didn’t even know. And after all this time, I still am.” He says that last sentence in a whisper, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

His mouth is so warm against yours, so tender, and yet they set your skin on fire.

You pull away and take two steps back.

“Y-you don’t get to kiss m-me like that, not again,” You say breathless. You’re reminded of sophomore year, and the kiss in his living room that made you feel weightless and lightheaded.

“Y/n-”

“I think we’ve talked enough for tonight,” Your heart hammers in your chest and the blood rushes to your face so fast that you swear you’re shivering. His eyes are illuminated by the streetlamps and you see them break right before you, defeated. Yours are no different.

You walk away, choking back sobs.

He doesn’t try to stop you.

It’s 4PM when you decide to get out of bed.

Your eyes are practically closed shut from your lack of sleep and you don’t bother to brush your hair, or undrape the blanket around your shoulders when you head downstairs. Your parents are sitting in the living room, oblivious and unassuming, but when they see you they almost go into cardiac arrest.

“What’s wrong?” Your mother asks tentatively, extremely unsure as to why her daughter looked so abnormally disheveled. “Did you know he was going to be back in town?” You croak out, and she sighs.

“So you saw him.” She states, and your dad pretends to read the newspaper.

“Why didn’t you tell me ma, you know what happened-”

“Exactly; everyone knows what happened, and everyone knows how ruined you’ve both been because of it. But nothing’s going to change if you keep sweeping it under the rug. Honey, I know you’re hurting,” She rests a hand on your cheek and you close your eyes at the feeling. “But this is your chance to get closure.”

“What if I don’t want it anymore?”

“Oh that’s a load of cow dung. Look at you; you’re a mess.” Gee, thanks mom.

She bites her lip and pauses for a second, “What if I told you that during your first year in college, the very first semester you were away, he came back? It was the autumn before things took off for him, and he showed up in town looking for you everywhere, not knowing you had left. I felt so bad, but you’re my daughter, and my first instinct was to protect you because I knew that for the first time in a long time, you were enjoying yourself. So I didn’t give him your new number, said your phone was broken, and he was absolutely heartbroken. I regret it slightly, but maybe this time you both can stop being constantly out of step.”

Your mouth hung agape and your head spun. He looked for me?

“Don’t leave things like this, you need each other.” She gives you a squeeze, and you sigh.

She was right. Years passed with so many things left unsaid, so much time gone. And as much as you hated to admit it, you were never going to get that time back. It would kill you knowing that you didn’t take the chance to fix things. You were already broken down to your bones, what’s left to chip away?

You uncoil yourself from your blanket and fling it onto the couch, groaning when you realise you’re going to have to face him again. The events that had elapsed last night were still hard to wrap your mind around, and you found yourself wondering if it ever did happen. You could already feel your heart pound at the thought of it. His words float in your mind ceaselessly; so much so that when you step out of your house, you almost miss the slumped figure on your sidewalk.

He gets up at the sound of your door closing.

His hair was messy, pointing every which way, and the same clothes from earlier were now wrinkled and crimped. His eyes devastated you. They looked worn down and exhausted, much like yours did.

“Walk with me?” He breathes out, and you nod.

Seeing him in daylight is different. As you two walk, you become increasingly aware of exactly how much he’s grown. He used to be only a few centimeters taller than you, but now you only reach his chin. Barely. But his skin is the same golden tan and his cheeks remained full. You’re close enough that you can smell his scent- a scent you didn’t know you missed until now. But in retrospect, you just missed him.

You both reach the small park in the middle of your neighborhood, and you find yourselves under the big oak tree that he had deemed our spot all those years ago. You look up into his eyes, and for a moment you remember what it’s like to feel home again.

“Do you remember the first time we found this place? You were always so terrible at hide and seek.”

You find yourself smiling at the memory. He hid from you, behind this very tree, for so long that it had felt like you spent hours searching for him. When you finally did find him, you were angry and upset with him with red cheeks to match.

“That’s only because you were always so good at hiding from me,” There’s ambiguity that you didn’t intend in that statement, which brings you both back to silence.

After a while, you gather the courage to speak again. “So about that kiss-” He winces and scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry for catching you off-guard like that last night-”

“I’m talking about the one on your birthday, sophomore year.” His lips squeeze into a tight line and his round eyes stare at you dumbfoundedly.

“I-I always thought you never remembered that. You never brought it up, so I thought that it was just a mistake.” You fiddle with your fingers and gnaw at your bottom lip, feeling the heat creep to the back of your neck.

“Y/n, it was never a mistake. I wanted to kiss you- and I did- because I was sick of being confused about my feelings for you.” You look back up at him, “I didn’t bring it up because I was too scared of scaring you away with it all.”

“Well you should’ve, so that I wouldn’t be so confused either.” His expression changes, and you didn’t think it was possible, but it becomes even more defeated than it was a few moments ago. He rubs his face with his face with his hands, leaning against the tree.

He’s about to speak again, but your lips reach his before he gets the chance.

His soft cheeks rest in your hands as you taste him, soaking in the feeling of his warm lips against yours. This time, for the first time, the kiss lasts longer than a few seconds.

The sensation sends shivers up your arms and down your spine. When he kisses you back, he kisses you with so much fervour that you’re worried you’ll pass out at the feeling. But his arms grip you tightly around your waist to keep you there, with him, firmly in place. Your mind is fuzzy and your heart beats erratically in your chest when he squeezes your waist. Craving him like this is new to you, and yet you can’t help but yearn for more.

Where words failed you before, you make up for it in slow dances across his lips.

“It was worth it, right?” Your question comes as a surprise to him.

Earlier, when the sun had begun to set, the two of you decided that public parks were not exactly the most ideal place to have a heart-to-heart. So you walked back to his place, hands shoved in to the depths of your pockets, but your shoulders brushing against his with every step.

The two of you laid face to face on his bed, pillow-width apart.

“Leaving, yes. Hurting you, not at all.” He answers quietly, his hand drawing circles on the small of your back.

Under his bedroom lights, you take his breath away. His eyes trace over your features, over every dip and bump of the outlines of your face and he hopes that this vision of you never leaves him. He takes in every mole and freckle on your face like it’s the first time he’s seen them, when the reality is that he always used to map out constellations on your cheeks while you slept. He’s afraid that if he blinks, you’ll vanish again, so he tries to keep his gaze steady on yours, unwavering and certain. The way he looks at you sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“I miss you,” You say, your voice meek and he feels his heart break all over again. “I miss you too.” You both speak in present-tense because even though he could touch you, see you, he knew it would take an indefinite amount of time for the pain of losing so many moments to heal.

He pulls you into him, savouring the feeling of your embrace. Holding you makes him feel at home, and god knows he’s been away for so long. You nestle into the crook of his neck, and his hands rest under your sweater and on supple skin, willing your pain to go away.

There are an infinite amount of things he wants to tell you, but he figures “I love you.” would suffice for now.

Life never slowed down. As much as it felt like it had when you spent your days with him again, the days piled up one by one. And soon enough, time caught up.

Soon enough, you would need to book your train ticket back to the city, because your three-week long semester break would draw to a close. He would have to book a plane ticket back to glitz and glamour, and the pair of you would wind up in the same dilemma that you were in five years ago.

Only this time, he never leaves your side during your fleeting time together. This time, he tries to make up for all the lost moments within the span of three weeks. He doesn’t let go of any chance to be with you- to hold you, to touch you, to kiss you. He imprints the feeling of his skin on yours so that you never forget. So that he never forgets. Your eyes are cosmic in the moments that you share intimately, and he soaks up every inch of you so that he never forgets what it feels like to share the same breath.

He listens to all your stories and all your bizarre adventures with a fond smile, because you tell them with such wonder that it makes him feel like he was there. Your voice is the only one he wants in his head.

When he drops you off at the station, he doesn’t say goodbye. But not like last time; he doesn’t say goodbye because instead he says I’ll see you soon and Get there safely. When he watches the train pull away from the platform, he prays he sees it soon again because it carries his heart with him.

He likes to imagine that you send him voice notes of your day and how frustrated you are with you OChem professor. That you send him pictures of yourself, and all the cute little cats you come across during your walks to class. That you send him long letters in the mail like the hopeless romantic that you are. In return, he would introduce you to his members- he knows you’d get along with Hyunjin the best, because you both would like to bitch about him while he’s still in the room. He likes the idea of facetiming you whenever you have the time, and getting to say he misses you, even if it’s only through a screen. He likes to imagine that in every lyric he writes, an essence of you treads in his words, because you’re his only muse. And he envisions the day when he’s finally back in the town where time slows, up in your room where the rest of the world crumbles away and your slates are clean once again.

But for now he watches as the train becomes nothing but a speck in the distance, waiting for it all to play out.

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asphalt-cocktail · 5 years ago

Text

For the Sake of Content- Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Live Music is Boring

Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.

A/N: Hi lil cuties! Back at it again with a new chapter for FSC. I know I said a new chapter was coming tomorrow, but I wanted to post it tonight because I can. Anyways, it’s starting to pick up from here on out! I’m hoping to build a lot of sexual tension over the next few chapters for what I have planned. Like always I really appreciate all of your lovely comments, likes, and reblogs! Seeing your interest is what helps motivate me to write! Also if you would like to be tagged please send me an ask, the comments get lost and then I feel bad when i cant find everyone :/

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex work, masturbation, sexual tension, some friendly banter between roger and reader, really corny dirty talk, it makes sense when you read it, not proof read, short chapter but don’t worry it gets better.

Word Count: 1.9k

18+ if you are a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

Roger sat in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal, dressed only in a tasseled vest and leather straight legged pants while you shuffled out in your old worn college sweatshirt and a pair of sleep shorts, “Are those my Golden Grahams?” You asked, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen.

Roger glanced up at you, his under eyes were always slightly droopy and puffy, a stark contrast to his surprisingly wide blue eyes that glared up at you, “Yeah, what about it.” He answered confidently.

“Stop eating my shit, I barely have enough money to support myself let alone you.” You said grabbing the box from the counter and shoving it into the cupboard that held your food.

Roger shrugged, loudly slurping up his spoonful of milk, “Maybe you should get a job then.” He leaned back in his chair “How do you even afford rent anyways?”

You froze, your back still facing Roger. For the last few weeks you had made a decent sum of money camming and selling photos, not that you would tell Roger of all people. “It’s none of your business.” You reminded him while you walked over and pulled out your leftovers from your dinner with Freddie and popped them into the microwave.

“How did you even meet Fred,” He asked suspicious that his friend, Freddie, would dare to have other friends.

You turned towards Roger and leaned against the counter, “College,” you answered pointedly, “We had a digital design class together and he liked the shirt I was wearing.” You answered, you might still have that shirt buried in your closet somewhere, “Where did you meet him?”

Roger continued eating your cereal, “We used to live together, went to different universities, but he needed a roommate.” You had been to Freddie’s home during college, but never met Roger. It was a nice place, but always a cluttered mess, “Now we run the shop and play together.” That’s right, Roger helped sell clothes at the second-hand store.

“What do you play? The guitar?” You scoffed momentarily, “God, I hope you can play something other than Wonderwall.” You joked.

A small smile graced Roger’s features, if you hadn’t had been looking you wouldn’t have seen it, “No, I’m a drummer.” He gave you a confident smirk, the kind that would have caused a girl’s knees to go weak, “But I do play guitar,” He quickly followed with.

You nodded your head, “Ah, a drummer,” You said pulling your food out from the microwave and stabbed your fork into the left-over chicken breast.

“You’ve never been to any of our shows, have you?” Roger pressed.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Nope,” you answered, popping the ‘p’ at the end of your short statement.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really like bar concerts I guess.”

Roger scoffed and made a skeptic face, “Where do you see concerts then? The back room of a coffee shop? Some of the best concerts I’ve been to have been in the back of shoddy bars.” He sounded defensive now.

“I just don’t get the point of concerts, I can listen to music on vinyl or Spotify so why should I go to a concert!” You answered back, just as defensive.

“I’m going to call Fred and tell him that you think our music is too boring to see live.” He said reaching for his phone.

You felt your blood run cold, Christ Fred would have your head on a stick if he heard you said that; which you didn’t. You lurched forward, gripping Roger’s wrist, “No!” You shouted, “Don’t call, Fred.” You struggled against his grip

Roger used his free hand to jab his finger into your side, causing you to squeal with laughter and jerk against him “Let go!” He couldn’t hide his own laughter.

You clutched his hand against your chest with your back to him “Promise you won’t tell Fred?” You said, not aware that your shorts had been pulled taut against you and hugged your skin while the crease between your ass and thigh threatened to pop from underneath them.

Roger swallowed thickly, maintaining eye contact with your upper thighs, “Promise you’ll come to our show tonight?” He asked, his voice sounded husky and sent an involuntary shudder through your body.

“Fine, I promise.” You said frowning and feeling your stomach clench at his tone. You quickly released his hand and turned to face him.

Roger’s pouty lips hung slightly ajar and his face was lightly dusted pink, you assumed it was from the struggle prior. “Promise.” He agreed, “But I’m going to tell Fred you’re going.” You groaned knowing Fred would want to doll you up for the occasion.

Thankfully you still had several hours before their 10pm show, so with plenty of time to kill you found yourself seated in front of your computer starting your live stream for the day.

You were dressed in a blue baby doll lingerie that had black lace trim, it was simple and not too revealing; just what you liked. Your colored lights lit up your room and the backdrop you had hung up disguised it for the sake of safety and the camera was perfectly positioned to only show your chest on down. By now you were regular professional.

The red light of your camera blinked and your computer screen loaded before you finally went live. Your regulars were alerted of your stream and soon people began to trickle in and soon your room was filled with a generous number of people. The tips flowed as you interacted with your regulars,

Tank3939 tipped you 50 tokens!

You smiled a sickeningly sweet smile “Thank you tank, you know these tips get me nice and wet.” You sensually said, rubbing your breasts and pushing them together. Tank was a regular, often generously tipping you, “If we reach 1,000 tokens in the next hour, I’ll let you watch me fuck myself on this fat cock.” You said holding up a decently sized dildo, you tried to ignore how much the fake sensuality in your tone caused you to cringe. The way you had to act in order to score tips was perhaps the most annoying part of the gig.

Bigboy64: shit baby how much I got to tip u to do that to me

Tank3939: beautiful sugar

Mojo_Man tipped you 1,000 tokens!

You stopped, doing a double take on at the little red mark on the screen, “Th… thank you, Mojo. I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.” You gave the camera a wink, “Always nice to see that men know what women want.” You said leaning back and spreading your legs, quickly swiping your fingers through your wet folds and letting out a breathy moan.

The tip bell continued to ring, and your moans threatened to get louder before you stopped, a sultry laugh left your lips “I got to be careful guys, my roommate is in the room next door… wouldn’t want him to hear me,” You gave a naughty giggle, “Or would I?”

Mojo_Man tipped you 500 tokens!

Bigboy64: u ever fuck ur roommate?

Bigboy64: Id fuck u if u were mine

You couldn’t help but grin at the comment, “No, I couldn’t do it, don’t think he likes me very much.” You answered honestly. “Thank you again Mojo, I guess I better get started now that you’ve got me all warmed up. I’ll be right back.” You said, blocking the screen so you could get set up, suctioning the dildo onto the hardwood floor beneath you. You turned around, exposing your ass to the camera and twisted to take the little post-it-note off the camera, “Remember, that little bell makes my tight little pussy wet.” You said once your screen came back into focus.

You sighed, lowering yourself onto the thick cock and sat for a moment allowing it to generously stretch your walls. God, even this fake dick filled you better than Harrison ever could. You leaned forward, sticking your ass out and arching your back and rotated your hips around the dildo, whimpering as you did so.

You readjusted your legs, spreading wider and leaning further forward. Your cheeks spread and put your pussy on display for all 523 people in your live stream. You moaned, pistoning your hips on the plastic cock. Your wet pussy easily glided up and down while your hands reached forward, gripping onto your bed in front of you for balance. Your hips burned while pornographic moans left your lips and your ass bounced with your thrusts. The tip bell rang, one after another, ensuring that you would be able to not only pay rent, but also buy another box of golden grahams for yourself.

Once you finished you gave your signing of speech, “Thank you so much my lovelies!” You said slightly out of breath, “I had so much fun with you all tonight especially my biggest donor for the might Mojo_Man,” you moaned his username out and for good measure kneaded your breasts in your hand before you continued, “Remember to subscribe to my OnlyFans and Snapchat for more content on days I don’t stream! I’ll see you again next Sin Saturday!”

You leaned back against your bed after you sighed off and looked through your stats for the night, 2500 tokens tipped by this Mojo_man, wow he must have really liked your work. You scoffed a bit, poor sap, you thought before you dressed yourself in normal clothes and left to shower and clean yourself off.

A knock on the door alerted you from your shower, your peaceful alone time, “What!” You shouted over the white noise the running water provided.

Without warning, the door opened,“Fred’s going to be over with an outfit for you!” It was Roger.

You rolled your eyes and slicked your hair back and out of your face “Couldn’t you tell me once I got out?” You frowned.

The door quickly shut, “No!” You could hear Roger’s voice growing more distant as he walked further away from the door and sure enough within minutes of your shower ending Freddie was knocking at your bedroom door and soon letting himself in.

“Fred,” You whined, “I look like a slut in this!” You shouted.

“I know!” He countered, “It’s my favorite look on you, you know that!” He straightened out the fabric of your shirt and skirt he had picked out for you.

You looked in the mirror, feeling stupid, “It’s just a bar, Fred. I don’t know why I can’t just go in some jeans!” you protested looking in the mirror.

You could see Roger’s reflection in the mirror, he once again changed his outfit. This time he was wearing an open floral print button down and tight black pants with flared legs, “I think it’s a nice change from that old jumper.” Roger always had to add his own two cents in.

You rolled your eyes, “Why’d you change again? Was your ‘lounge around’ tassel vest not sufficient enough for the show?”

Roger looked at you through narrow eyes, “’Course not, unlike you I care how people see me.”

“All right you two, that’s enough. We have to go over to John’s for the pregame.”

“Wait-” you protested, “You didn’t tell me I was going to meet everyone.”

Freddie scoffed at you, “Of course you have to, you’re a regular Queen groupie now!”

You groaned as Freddie wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you through the apartment, “Why can’t I be a roadie? I can lift stuff.”

“Not dressed like this!” Fred countered, “Enough, come on now we have to get dinner. It’s the most important meal before we go out!”

You tugged the leather miniskirt Freddie had dressed you in down and frowned, reminding yourself that you were only doing this to get a break from your mundane routine.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #ben!roger taylor #ben hardy!roger x reader #ben hardy!roger taylor #ben hardy!roger taylor x reader #roger taylor series #roger taylor fanfic #borhap #borhap fanfic #borhap blurb #borhap fandom #queen x reader #queen smut #queen series #FSC fic

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wildroseofarran · 4 years ago

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Nice to Meet You || Gralloway, Abel, & Guildias

MJ: Just another quiet March midnight. Not surprised in the least that Peter left his window open. Just as he used to. Did he ever change? The Ravnos was less than graceful crawling through the small space and spilling onto the dining room floor.

He'd missed his usual intrusions. They'd been on his mind since crossing the state line days ago. The quaint little house on his mind talking to Callum, and Abel, and now giving his greetings to Midas. He'd missed this place.

Pete: Midas had been napping before sensing the new presence. He sat alert on top of his tree, ears perked for the tiniest sound.

But it wasn't a tiny sound. It was a big one. A familiar one.

He sniffed at the hand that reached out to him and, deeming the guest acceptable, positioned his head for pets.

His owner was nowhere in the immediate area, but an open back door indicated he was somewhere in the yard.

MJ: "Hey, lil king. Remember me? Tell me what I missed, hmm?" One more scritch, positioning himself for eye contact, open to any and all the little creature had to say. Actually seeing Peter could wait. Best to go forward with something.

Pete: 'I remember you. I've heard your name but haven't seen your face. Your scent is on the bed.'

MJ: "On the bed, huh? He don't clean his sheets?"

Pete: 'On the bed. Only his scent is in the bed.'

MJ: "Show me?"

Pete: Midas treated himself to a full, luxurious stretch before leaping down from his perch and leading the vampire up the stairs.

MJ would be able to see small changes to the house. Fresh paint, new plants, some new photos. Stickers on one of the bedroom doors signaled the presence of a child at some point.

The door to Pete's bedroom had been pulled even with the frame but not shut completely, allowing Midas to nudge it open.

What he'd meant would be plainly obvious:

Blue glass roses sat on Pete's beside table, and in the middle of the pillows on the bed, a stuffed pink elephant.

MJ: MJ paused in the doorway, still absorbing the short journey to the bedroom, only to be met with nostalgia, and a twinge of painful memory. Not so discomforting. Not as it used to be. Not with this new blended soul. There was now a fondness to that pink elephant. What a day that had been.

"I see what you mean now." He tapped at the foot of the bed, invitation to his host before doing a flop onto the mattress.

Pete: Midas jumped up, making himself comfortable not on the bed, but on MJ's abdomen.

'Your scent on the bed. His scent in the bed.'

MJ: "And now your scent on me. How 'bout that?"

Pete: Midas watched the vampire intently. 'Did you come for sadness?'

MJ: "Did I come for what?"

Pete: 'Did you come to make him sad?'

MJ: "Is that all I do?"

Pete: 'He's been too sad for too long. It was all he knew for a time.'

MJ: "You're a very mature kitten."

Pete: 'Cats are wise.'

MJ: "So ya know you're a cat."

Pete: 'That's what he says.'

MJ: "He says that ya know you're a cat?"

Pete: ‘He says cats are wise.’

MJ: "I'd say you're more sentient than most. What's your secret?"

Pete: 'He talks to me.'

MJ: "That's all it takes, huh?" How about some scritches under the chin?

Pete: Midas closed his eyes and purred.

MJ: "When was the last time ya had a big juicy piece of fish? Hmm? Ya deserve some."

Pete: "I don't know. A very long time."

Really it had only been a couple of weeks, but time meant nothing to a cat.

MJ: "Let's go get ya some, then."

MJ sat up and tapped at his shoulder. "Ya get t'go for a ride."

Pete: Midas climbed onto the vampire's shoulder and perched himself like a parrot with ease. He'd done this before.

'Where are we going?'

MJ: "T'the kitchen. We're gonna sneak ya some food."

Pete: 'He'll be able to scent you. He'll know you're here.'

MJ: "Oh yeah? His nose that good now?"

Pete: 'Bears have a strong sense of smell.'

MJ: "He a good bear?"

Pete: 'He guards the river and plants roses on the bank.'

MJ: "I've seen those," he said, a kind of faraway whimsy in his tone.

The fridge was opened for inspection. He made no effort to be quiet.

Pete: 'They have magic. He plants them for you.'

The fridge showed signs of being recently stocked. The containers were full and some had yet to be opened. The produce was fresh, as were the leftovers.

'My food is in the place with the red top.'

MJ: "I get conflicting answers. Can you see color?"

Pete: 'Yes, though not as much as a human.'

MJ: "Are you a familiar?"

Pete: 'I don't have magic.'

MJ: He had his suspicions. He'd never heard an animal speak so eloquently. Most rats had the translatable vocabulary of a child. He wondered if that was because they had been wild. Miss Swiss had been special. Oh well.

"Here, some salmon."

Pete: Midas chirped in approval. However eloquent, he was still a cat.

Meanwhile, outside, Pete had abruptly stopped in the middle of his prayers and was facing his house, frozen in place.

Hearing any sort of movement coming from inside would've been alarming on its own, but he could detect a hint of something--someone--in the breeze that was making his heart thunder in his chest.

Slowly, he stood.

MJ: The salmon was cut into strips on the cutting board. Some things didn't change. He still knew his way around the kitchen like the back of his hand. A single slice was then cut into cubes. A tiny portion given to his shoulder guest. He was aware of Peter's scent, aware this would come to a head, but calm just the same.

Pete: Pete didn't entirely know what he was going to find as he stepped inside. Would MJ just be sitting there? Would he be poking around? Would he be angry? Would the other man be there?

....No. None of those.

MJ was standing in his kitchen chopping--was that salmon?--for his cat.

"....MJ?"

MJ: A hundred comebacks. Jokes, greetings, offhanded remarks. A smile, a stutter, a loss of all senses. Anything, something. What MJ managed was staring. Staring, and allowing Midas to lick his fingers. He must have been the odd sight.

"I stole your fish," was what he landed on.

Pete: It was a night for the unexpected and Pete's mind was completely blank.

"Yes you did. Midas talk you into it?"

MJ: "Think I talked him into it."

Pete: "I doubt he needed much talking. He loves salmon."

Pete dared to step closer. The last time he'd seen MJ was in a dream. He'd woken with his arms aching from how much he longed to hold his vampire. Now here he was, feeding salmon to his cat.

"Is this another dream?"

MJ: "Are you awake?" Another cube of salmon for Midas. A parting gift before placing him on the floor.

Pete: "Pretty sure."

Midas rubbed against Pete's leg on his way back to his tree. It was time for a nap.

MJ: "Then you're not dreamin'." MJ looked to the salmon and back. "What was this supposed t'be?"

Pete: "Oh, uh...I'm not really sure. I didn't have a specific plan for it." Just like he didn't have a specific plan for this situation.

MJ: "No idea? Guess it's...sashimi now."

Pete: "Guess so," he said with a small smile. "How've you been?"

MJ: "I've been shitty, then kinda okay, then just been, then shitty, then better. You?"

Pete: "Sounds like a hell of a rollercoaster. I've just...been. Couple of bumps, but I think I'm no worse for wear."

MJ: "Kay, then." What to do now?

Pete: Pete took a deep breath. "I found a suit of armor."

MJ: For some reason, tension returned to his shoulders.

"Yeah? From where?"

Pete: "Theater department at the community college. And I found a white horse."

MJ: "Say what now?"

Pete: "Friend of a coworker of Ryan's. My brother-in-law."

MJ: "Ya got someone?"

Pete: "Yeah, the guy--Jacob--owns a dude ranch and he said he would let me borrow it in exchange for free beer."

MJ: "I... got no clue what we're talkin' 'bout now."

Pete: "I promised that I would do everything I could to win you back, starting with putting on a suit of armor and riding up on a white horse."

MJ: "And ya just said you're with someone n'somethin' about a theater. Look... I dunno what I expected comin' here, but we... we gotta talk plainly."

Pete: Pete's brow furrowed. "I--what? I'm not with anyone. Jacob is Ryan's coworker's friend who's letting me borrow his horse."

MJ: "Peter, ya got this... idea in your head or somethin' and I got no clue how ya have it anymore."

Pete: "You--you don't remember the dream?"

MJ: "Somewhat, but a lot of shit happened after."

Pete: "Stuff that's changed how you felt...?" Pete's voice had gotten progressively quieter and more deflated with each passing moment.

MJ: "I don't get what you're hangin' on to. What made any of this -"

Better restart. He hauled himself onto the counter. Arms on his knees.

"She's gone. MJ's gone."

Pete: "I'm hanging on to you. I'm hanging on to the love I have for you." The small bubble of hope that had lived in his chest since the night he'd had that dream threatened to burst. It had felt so real. MJ had felt so real. But maybe it had only felt real--been real--for him. Maybe--

Pete stilled. Stared. ".....What? What do you mean MJ's gone? You're MJ. I'm looking at you. Aren't I?"

MJ: "Sort of but no. That answer only works in this reality, I think? The one where two things become one thing. Then it's just a sort of but no."

Pete: It was only by the grace of knowing Guildias that any of that made sense.

"So you--you melded. She's gone because she's not her anymore, she's part of you now."

MJ: "You're good at this. Seasoned pro. S'like ya got some druid friend or somethin'." A small smile.

Pete: Pete returned the smile, but there was no denying the knot that had formed in his stomach. He would've given anything to be able to tear that horrible woman away from the man he loved, or better, to have gone back in time and stopped the soul eating from happening in the first place.

"How much of you is you?"

MJ: "That's what everyone asks me. That means so much, don't it? Is there a percentage you're lookin' for of the old guy?"

Pete: "We all change all the time. I'm not the same old guy, and even without having melded you wouldn't be either." He shrugged. "I just wanna know if there's any part of the you I know still in there somewhere."

MJ: "I wouldn't be here if there wasn't somethin'. I wanna know ya, who ya are like new. S'half of why I came from Cali."

Pete: "You really wanna get to know me again?"

MJ: "D'ya wanna know me?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yeah, I do."

MJ: "I wanna ask why."

Pete: "Earlier you asked what I was hanging on to, and I said I was hanging on to you. I am, MJ. I love you. I miss you. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. I promised you in a dream that I would do whatever it took to make up for all the hurt I've caused you, to win you back, and even if you don't remember that dream like I do, I intend to keep that promise. I want to get to know you again. I want you to get to know me again."

MJ: "Look, I feel like..." No. He shook his head and tried again. "We gotta start from a place that ain't love. I dunno how else t'explain I'm not MJ...like...that, anymore. I don't feel the same 'bout shit. Like... I left. I left like shit. I wanted t'be by myself. I wanted t'deal with what happened in my own way. I came back after ya did shit with someone else. That's..." He shrugged. "It is what it is."

Pete: Pete fell into thoughtful silence. MJ was right, of course. He'd melded with Victoria; he wasn't the same person anymore. Not all of the same person anymore. He had her perspective now too. Her personality, her thought process, her gut feelings. As much as he looked the same and sounded the same, this was a different person standing in front of him, and he was kind of a different person to MJ too.

They had to start from a place that wasn't love.

After a few moments, Pete stuck his hand out. Not to hold, but to shake. "Hi. I'm Peter and I'm a werebear. Most people call me Pete. I speak French, do gladiator training, and I really love cats."

MJ: MJ waited and watched, quietly. He waited for Peter to say no; that he couldn't believe anything had changed. Some romantic gesture... but there was his hand. And he took it. And he smiled.

"I think I like Peter more, but that opens the door t'ya callin' me Mayhew. I'm a vampire. I do things like take your watch while talkin' t'ya."

Peter's watch was spun around his finger. "I really love rats."

Pete: He shook MJ's hand, looking momentarily stunned to see his watch on MJ's finger before laughing. So much better than a snake on the bar.

"It's nice to meet you, Mayhew. You can call me Peter. But I'd prefer calling you MJ. That fluffy spoiled boy over there is my son. He likes salmon and looking out the window. You've won his undying affection."

MJ: Better than he expected. He should have given Peter more credit. He smiled, offering back the watch.

"Think fluffers would eat my rats?"

Pete: Back it went on his wrist. "Nah. He got used to seeing rats and mice when we lived in France, he doesn't mind them. Now crickets? He will hunt a cricket to the ends of the earth."

MJ: "People eatin' rats still?"

Pete: "Just snails," he chuckled. "Rats and mice are just a part of farm life, fighting like hell to get into grain stores."

MJ: "Just doin' their thing. Them n'roaches'll be here 'til the end of time."

Pete: "Probably, yeah. Safe from the apocalypse and safe from Midas. Do you have a little pet rat right now?"

MJ: "I got one in Cali. Gonna get another for the road."

Pete: "There's a new pet shop in town. They have all sorts of little animals. Ferrets, lizards, mice, rats."

MJ: "They open late?"

Pete: "Later than most places around here."

MJ: "Ya wantin' somethin' else?"

Pete: "Yeah, but not for me. Been wanting to get a pet for Luke."

MJ: "Get him a... mouse."

Pete: “They have such short little lives. He’s in a bad way, I’d hate for him to lose someone else he loves.”

MJ: "Then get him a bird. A parrot."

Pete: “Huh. That’s not a bad idea. They live like sixty years, don’t they?”

MJ: "Gotta put em in your will. My aunt had one. Outlived her."

Pete: "Our nephew can inherit his. Or our niece."

MJ: "Now you're thinkin'."

Pete: "Parrot it is. He can teach it lawyer speak."

MJ: "N'I'll teach it t'cuss."

Pete: "Perfect. This is gonna be such a well-spoken parrot."

MJ: "'Twenty t'life, fucker!'" he laughed.

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "I'm excited for this bird and I don't even know what kind I'm getting him."

MJ: "He still in the city?"

Pete: "For now, yeah. There's a good chance he'll be moving back here."

MJ: "What the hell for?"

Pete: “He’s had a rough couple years. Living alone has taken a toll.”

MJ: "Think it'd be the other way around."

Pete: “He was fine living in Raleigh until his boyfriend died. That changed things.”

MJ: "They livin' together?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, boyfriend was living here. But I think the fact that they never found his body or any real answers is messing with his head. He never got any closure." He had yet to determine if the haunting counted as closure.

MJ: He thought of Kenna, and what she would want in that circumstance.

"He gonna be livin' here?"

Pete: “Either here or with our parents. Maybe with his best friend. She was the boyfriend’s sister and she’s been having a rough time too.”

MJ: "That's the thing 'bout death. Only fucks with the ones still livin'."

Pete: “Yeah,” he sighed. “I hope being back here helps. At the very least he won’t have to come home to an empty condo.”

MJ: "I guess. If that helps."

Pete: "It won't magically solve everything but it's a good start." Kind of like this situation with them, he supposed.

MJ: Well, enough about a brother he barley knew or even saw.

"What d'ya wanna do now?"

Pete: "Wanna take Midas for a walk with me?"

MJ: "He's a cat."

Pete: "Yep. A leash trained cat who likes to go on walks."

MJ: "You're a weird one, Peter."

Pete: He smiled. "It's been said before. So what do you say?"

MJ: "I know I'm an animal lover n'all, but that's... yeah. No," he laughed.

Pete: Pete chuckled and looked over at Midas, who was busy grooming himself. "If you hadn't given him salmon he'd probably be very offended. Wanna go for a walk with just me?"

MJ: "Ya not bothered by a night walk?"

Pete: "I'm a Fera. The night and I are good friends."

MJ: "Get your keys, then."

Pete: "All right. Here, floof." He arranged the salmon in Midas' dish and grabbed him from his tree. "Dinner. Don't do anything weird while we're gone and don't think you're getting the good life tomorrow."

Now for keys and his jacket.

MJ: "Good life is only once a week," he nodded, totally serious but absolutely not. This all felt... surreal, and he wondered if Peter felt the same.

Pete: It was enough to make Pete chuckle. He was in the exact same boat as MJ; this all felt like another dream. He was getting ready to go on a walk with a newly melded vampire he'd once dated and had just agreed to get to know again. What could be more surreal?

"Okay," he said once they were outside. "Left or right?"

MJ: "Ummm..." MJ twisted his finger, as though the decision was too difficult, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Which way has the dive bar? That ugly buildin' with the black door?"

Pete: "O'Charlie's? This way." He led them to the left. "You're in for a real treat. Dwight talked Charlie into steam cleaning the carpet last month."

MJ: A gasp. "But smelly floor is half of what makes a dive bar a dive bar!"

Pete: "Give it a week or two, it'll be right back where it was. The tables are still vaguely sticky I'm told."

MJ: "That's comfortin'." At least to MJ, now and before.

Pete: "Charlie is his same old self. Lately the conspiracy mood has been MK Ultra."

MJ: "S'been what now?"

Pete: "MK Ultra. Basically, back in the 50s and 60s the CIA was pumping people full of LSD to study mind control. And unlike most things, this one isn't in Charlie's head. It was declassified."

MJ: "Is anything surprisin' anymore? Anything after the Spanish Inquisition?"

Pete: "Not really, but sometimes something comes along that throws you for a loop."

MJ: "I think I'm done with surprises."

Pete: "You're preaching to the choir. I'll be good if I don't have to deal with another surprise again in my life."

MJ: "Well, I mean, bein' a bear... bad surprise?"

Pete: "Jury's still out on whether the end result is bad, but the process sure was."

MJ: "Does it hurt? Changin'?"

Pete: "Less so now. The first time was horrible. I was sick for days and days leading up to the full moon."

MJ: "D'ya feel everything? D'ya remember how it feels?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. It's--feeling your bones and body parts move around and reform is the weirdest damn feeling. Painful too but the pain doesn't last."

MJ: "My teeth itch. That is a thing, n'it happens all the time."

Pete: "Oh, man." He tried to imagine the sensation and made a face. "Does it drive you crazy?"

MJ: "When I'm already hungry, yeah. Goes from a mild annoyance t'pissed off."

Pete: "Only your fangs or all your teeth?"

MJ: "Just fangs."

Pete: "I wonder if that's worse than having the itch be spread out to all your teeth." He took a second to check for cars and led them across the street.

"I had an itch too before my first full moon. Covered in hives, sweaty from the fever. Everyone thought I was dying."

MJ: "Ya didn't know shit 'fore it happened? Nothin' at all? Which parent is it?"

Pete: "Nope," he said with a shake of his head. "Stella and Luke aren't like me and neither is my mom, so it was probably the other guy."

MJ: "Feel for him. He probably don't know ya exist."

Pete: "He doesn't. My mom never told him and never plans to."

MJ: "Don't matter what she wants. What d'ya want?"

Pete: "I already have a dad. I have no inner turmoil or questions. I'm at peace."

MJ: "Really? That's what you're gonna go with?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "It's the truth. I was curious for a while, thought about grilling my mom until she told me and going to confront the guy but at the end of the day, what would that accomplish? I already have my dad. I'm already a bear. Nothing would change and nothing would be added to my life."

MJ: "Ya'd have the man that made ya what ya are n'get answers ya might have 'bout your new life. Ya can't pretend nothin's changed. 'Sides, he's got a right t'know."

Pete: "A lot has, but not as much as you'd think. I'm a bear who didn't know he was a bear who was then taught to be a bear by Druids. If he has a right to know, shouldn't my mom be the one to tell him? For all I know he's got a whole life with no room for anyone else."

MJ: MJ shook his head. "You're his blood. What she shoulda done she didn't, so she don't get a fuckin' say. Ya don't get in the way of someone's bloodline like that."

Pete: “She did lots of things she shouldn’t have, and didn’t say anything when she should’ve. That’s how I ended up having a doctor tell me I’m not my dad’s biological son.”

MJ: "They even allowed t'do that?"

Pete: “He thought I knew. I tried to donate blood and mine didn’t match. He thought I was adopted.”

MJ: "Huh." That still didn't feel right, but whatever. Doctors were the last thing he expected to be ethical.

"You're not done. Havin' him would add somethin'. More than what some druid can teach. They aren't what he is."

Pete: “I just...” Pete sighed. “Is it horrible to say that I just don’t...care to have him in my life? Like you’d think I would feel a hole there or something missing but it doesn’t feel like there is. It would be nice to meet someone else that’s like me and that can help me make sense of it all but I would almost rather it be literally anyone else. He doesn’t represent something good for me and that’s not all his fault, I know that. But...I don’t know.”

MJ: "You're sayin' this, but it'll eat at ya. Like a needle prick right now, but it'll get bigger. Shit like that always does."

Pete: "Yeah, maybe. And maybe if it does, I'll feel differently. But for now, my life feels full and complete and peaceful. I'm gonna have a new baby niece soon. My business is doing great. We're getting to know each other again."

MJ: "Your life is always rosy, ain't it?" Or at least, that's what Peter wanted it to be, so that was what he projected. He couldn't tell. He never could. The man had seemed so different since his trip to Montana. Having to chase him down in order to speak with him, to spare him Victoria Harrak. For Callum to dismiss him. This all seemed so tainted and strange, and yet hopelessly normal.

Pete: "Not always," he said softly. "There's a lot that wasn't rosy for a long time and still isn't. There's a lot between us that's far from rosy."

MJ: "I dunno ya. We're brand new." He had to remember that, or let the past repeat itself.

Pete: “You’re right,” Pete said with a nod. “We are. Is there anything from the old us that you want to hash out? That the old you always wanted to hash out?”

MJ: Deep, wasted breath. Years now, and that was a can of worms. Not nearly as gnawing post merge, but still, those thoughts existed.

"How 'bout ya go first."

Pete: "Well." A sigh. "At this point I think it's no secret that the way you left wasn't the best way or even a good way and that it had a pretty severe effect on me. And on the flip side, the way I handled it wasn't the best, or even good either."

MJ: "How did ya handle it?"

Pete: "I betrayed your trust. I hurt you. I up and left without telling anyone where I was going. When you called me I hung up on you. I didn't step in when Callum banished you."

MJ: "We were done when I left. Everything else was just me bein' selfish, so there's that. Ya did up n'leave like a dick nozzle. What happened in the woods... happened, n'it wasn't your fault. I shoulda left ya alone."

Pete: "But you weren't just being selfish. You left but there was a relationship between us, at least for me. There was trust and love and rather than make a clean break, I cheated on you and betrayed all that. It wasn't just you being selfish, you had and have every right in the world to be upset and angry at me. I would completely understand if after what I did you never wanted to see me again. And in a lot of ways, that's why a big part of me believed that I deserved what happened in the woods that night."

MJ: "Well, ya didn't, so shut up about that. Don't be a broken record. N'ya know, ya shoulda given him a try. Like, for real. If ya wanna fuck someone else, ya should be with em, otherwise ya...ya wouldn't have t'start with."

He wondered if that logic applied to him in some measure. Brett Parker, Rohan Dalca... Rohan certainly deserved better, and that was part of the reason he left. A clean slate between both men had been the purpose of the trip. To reacquaint with fresh eyes.

Pete: Another sigh. "I had feelings for him for a big part of my life. The dynamic between us wasn't great even when we were younger and a lot of different things contributed to that, it wasn't all on me or all on him. For the part that was on me, well...I have a long, long history of not dealing with things the way I should. Maybe it was never in the cards or maybe it had been at some point and never came to be.

"But then I met you. And from the moment I met you, you got under my skin and you never really left it. You were under my skin when you were making snakes appear on my bar and when you won me a stuffed elephant at a carnival and when I was in Montana and when you left and when I left."

MJ: "Is that love, though, or is that just... obsession? I dunno either, so it's more just..." His fingers flew up. Something in the ether. Just rhetorical questions that maybe they could answer.

Pete: Pete shrugged. "I don't know. I just know that I care about you. That I want you to be happy. This new person you are? I want to get to know this person. I want to learn this person, independently of anything else."

MJ: "You're still walkin' with me, thinkin' about love. This ain't gonna work if you're just thinkin' that."

Pete: "I'm not though, that's the thing. I like talking to you. This you, not just the old you. I'm already seeing the distinction between the person I knew and the person you are now."

MJ: "Yeah? What's that?"

Pete: "I'm not really sure, it's like...I don't know if the old you would've been okay with saying as much as you're saying? Or not even that, just being okay with saying what you feel and what's on your mind. Which I want you to be able to do."

MJ: "Hmm." MJ shrugged. What was now a collective mind could not notice what had always existed for itself. Surprised to hear about any changes.

"The other me was pissed n'selfish n'panicked. It is what it is."

Pete: "Do you miss yourself at all? However new this is for everyone you know, I imagine it's even moreso for you."

MJ: A thought considered for less than thirty seconds. "No. I don't miss anything. That bother ya?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, just curious. Trying to imagine what it would be like to not completely be me anymore."

MJ: "You can't miss it. I don't think, because there's... nothin' to miss?" A sigh escaped him, needless, but worthy of expression. "I'll never be able t'explain this."

Pete: "Makes sense in a way, at least to my limited understanding. You can't miss you if you're still you."

MJ: "...Yeah. Somethin' like that. I have his memories. I got...some of her. I woke up feelin' reborn but like I always was...but...how two always were."

Pete: "And the people you've been living with? They've been helpful and supportive?"

MJ: "Well... some kickin' n'screamin' along the way."

Pete: "From them or you?"

MJ: "A bit of both. Had t'be chased down n'my RV invaded t'get t'this point."

Pete: Pete blinked. "Seriously? Jesus. That sounds...intense."

MJ: "Ya know what I do. I run."

Pete: "Sounds like they didn't let you."

MJ: "Nope. Damn stubborn like that."

Pete: "Speaking of stubborn." He nodded up ahead, where the bar had come into view. "We've arrived at Charlie's kingdom."

MJ: MJ threw his arms wide. "The only king I'll kneel to!"

Pete: Pete chuckled and held the door open for MJ. "Don't tell him that, he'll get a swelled head." If such a thing was even possible when one's kingdom was a sketchy bar with a sticky floor.

MJ: "I wanna see that now. Especially with havin' ya in his bar."

Pete/Charlie: "He's gotten used to having me here the past few weeks. Ain't that right, Charlie?" he added in a shout to the man himself.

Charlie saluted him with his cigarette, fully intending to go back to his newspaper when he spotted MJ.

"Well, shit," he laughed. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

MJ: "That there cancer stick is illegal in these parts, stranger! The fuck ya doin'?" A greeting for all intents and purposes. His hand came swinging over the counter for a grasping hand.

Charlie: The hand was shaken with vigor. "Bah, it ain't a real cancer stick! It's got menthol in. Refined, that's what that is. How the hell are ya, kid? What we do to be graced with your presence?"

MJ: "I've been t'Mordor n'back t'the Shire. Just needed t'go on an adventure. Ya know, that thing ya should do."

Peter was given a wink.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just smiled and ordered a beer from Dwight while Charlie belly laughed.

"Who says I don't go adventurin'? I was over there at that booth 'bout ten minutes ago and now I'm here. There's your adventure."

MJ: "Was there a battle in between? Someone lose an eye?"

Charlie: "Hell yes there was. Almost tripped over Jose's long fuckin' legs."

MJ: "Shit. I've missed so much." MJ made himself at home near Peter, splayed over a seat in cat-like fashion.

Charlie: "Damn right you have. Goin' to Walmart ain't the same without ya."

MJ: "Florida mom still thirsty for ya?"

Charlie: Charlie snorted. "Boy howdy, you don't know the half of it. Past few months she's been tryin' to march me down the aisle."

MJ: "I wanna hear all about it. What are we drinkin', Peter?"

Pete/Charlie: "We're drinking Blue Moon and wondering why Charlie won't marry Ann."

"I'll tell ya why, Petey boy," Charlie said with a squint, gesturing with his cigarette. "She still believes in the lone gunman."

MJ: "Please, educate Peter," MJ laughed. He leaned towards the werebear with a grin. "Not a Coors? With an umbrella?"

Pete/Charlie: Fondness and humor lit Pete's expression as he made a dramatic face. It warmed him to know that MJ remembered. It gave him hope.

"Never ever. I'd rather take a nap on Charlie's carpet."

"Hey now! Don't go knockin' my carpet, Dwight cleaned it."

"Tell that to Jose, there's a sea of muddy footprints around his chair."

Charles looked over and scowled. "Dammit, Jose!"

MJ: The exchanged look between two grumpy old men was priceless. The vampire couldn't help but snort. Playing human wasn't all bad; expressive if anything.

"Ya need t'fuck off with the carpet, Charl. It's older than me."

Charlie: "Whole world is older than you, kiddo, you're still just a baby. Carpet's fine for this crowd. Hasn't been a crime scene on it or nothing since at least the 80s."

MJ: "Ya hear that? At least the 80s. S'all love at O'Charlie’s."

Pete/Charlie: Pete threw his head back and laughed. "Bullshit, remember that couple who used to live over by Tristan Seger's house? Wife came in and tried to shoot her husband's dick off, remember?"

"Ohhhh, yeah, my bad." Charlie nodded. "Hasn't been a crime scene since at least 2005."

MJ: "Ah. See, that was a lifetime ago. At least get a fresh one. There are some questionable stains. Can't blame em all on Jose."

Pete/Charlie: "MJ's right. I'm almost positive some of those stains are because of you and Ann."

Charlie laughed.

MJ: Another stretch. Eyes focused on the ceiling as he leaned back. A small crack, there. Another strange stain.

"Ya always drink orange beer?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nah, not always. Sometimes I drink Guinness."

MJ: "Just drink t'relax?"

Pete: "Every now and then. If I'm feeling real fancy I'll have a glass of wine."

MJ: "But not anything else?"

Pete: “Relaxing wise or drinking wise?”

MJ: "Wino type shit."

Pete: Pete laughed. “What all falls under ‘wino type shit’?”

MJ: "Drink their sorrows away."

Pete: “Yeah, no. I’m not about the wino life.”

MJ: "Didn't think ya were. Had t'make sure."

Pete: He just smiled. “What about you? What do you do to relax?”

MJ: "Games. Practice vampy things. Learn from a dog." Convoluted as shit, with a shit-eating grin to boot.

Pete: "You--a dog?" Pete laughed. With that grin he couldn't tell if MJ was kidding or not. "Does the dog teach you how to dog?"

MJ: "The dog teaches me magic. I teach him how to shoot 360 no scope."

Pete: "So he's a magic dog...?"

MJ: "Heard of familiars?"

Pete: "I have," Pete said with a nod. "Is he yours?"

MJ: "Ha! Nah. Not mine, but I mean, sort of? He's a friend."

Pete: "Gotcha. Can vampires have familiars? Are there rules for familiars?"

MJ: "They pick ya, not the other way around."

Pete: Another nod. That made sense. "So I guess species doesn't matter then."

MJ: A shrug. "Have t'ask him. He's around somewhere."

Pete: "Oh, he came with you?"

MJ: "Mhm. You'll probably see him 'fore long."

Pete: "He exploring?"

MJ: "Yeah. Or scarin' lil kids in his devil costume." His brow wrinkled. "Or makin' em laugh? I dunno."

Pete: "Man, this just gets wilder and wilder."

MJ: "What's your life been like? More France?"

Pete: “Pretty quiet on my end. No trips to France recently. My sister’s pregnant and I’ve been helping her out with my nephew a lot so she can rest.”

MJ: "What's the husband doin'?"

Pete: "They put him on the night shift."

MJ: "The fuck is he doin'?"

Pete: "He took a second job as a security guard at the mall."

MJ: "Times that hard?"

Pete: “Babies are expensive.”

MJ: "Ain't just one good job out there?"

Pete: "I think his main job is pretty decent, but I guess a little extra money never hurt anyone."

MJ: That logic was reason he never saw his father. Not one he could approve of, but this was none of his business. Something in this thoughts questioned a father's role at all. A rare moment in his new life, knowing exactly which thoughts belonged to which former soul.

"So, tell me somethin' that ain't vague."

Pete: “Umm....” Pete sipped his beer and thought for a moment. “June talked me into starting a karaoke night at the pub every week.”

MJ: MJ bit into the inside of his cheek. A failed attempt at hiding his smile. "About you, flathead."

Pete: “I’m excited to meet my niece.”

MJ: "Were ya always a family man? Ya should settle down with a nice whoever n'adopt or make some babies."

Pete: Pete ignored the pang in chest that accompanied a little voice in his head that said he’d always dreamed of doing that with MJ.

Instead he said, “We’ve always been close, yeah. But my dad’s accident brought us that much closer. Scares me how close I came to losing him.”

MJ: "Has it made everyone write a will? Hell, I think my family has that kinda thing, too. More like a keep what cha kill kinda shit, but still stands."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep. Parents already had one but now we all do, too. We'll update them when the baby's born."

MJ: "'I give my seventy-inch TV to my brand new niece upon my death.'"

Pete: "I'll hand over the whole deed to her tiny hands."

MJ: "But who are ya really givin' it to?"

Pete: "If I ever have a kid, to them. If not, to the baby and Graham and Luke's kids if he has any."

MJ: "What, they all fight over it? Who the fuck gets it if ya drop dead right now?"

Pete: "Luke. And they won't have to fight. It'll be both of theirs, equally."

MJ: "Ya sure are generous, Peter."

Pete: He shrugged. "Can't take it with me, right? It's a good house. Only right that it should go to family. They can sell it or live in it or rent it if they want to."

MJ: "Generous is thinkin' ya can give one thing to this many fingers n'think it'll all work out."

Pete: "It's not just any fingers. Those fingers are being raised by two good, sensible, compassionate people. Call me an optimist."

MJ: "Alright, optimist, let's chug some beer I'll regret."

Pete: "Wanna regret some Blue Moon or would you rather regret another brand?"

MJ: "I'll regret the Blue Moon with ya." It would all return to sender before dawn; this was about time with Peter. Whatever this time meant.

Pete/Dwight: Pete nodded and glanced toward the other end of the bar. "Another round, Dwight, when you can?"

"For both of ya'll?"

"Yes, please."

"You got it."

MJ: "Don't 'yes please' the enemy," MJ snorted. "Bein' so nice t'the rival. How dare."

Pete/Charlie: His responding laugh sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Almost.

"Ah, come on. Dwight's a pal, he can have a please. Not Charlie though."

"I heard that."

MJ: That sure was a nice laugh. He remembered that laugh.

"We’re behind enemy lines. Can't make friends with Dwight except Christmas."

Pete/Dwight: "Well then, Dwight, I formally retract my please until Christmas," he said as the bartender brought over their beers.

Dwight just smiled in his subtle way. "Looking forward to it."

"Thanks though."

MJ: MJ stared. Dwight and their surroundings were faraway realities. Blatantly staring at those lips, trying to remember exactly what they tasted like. Wondering how warm Pete's skin felt now as Fera. Did they have a specific name? Did he know it?

Why did Peter love him so much? Or had. Still.

He wondered about Rohan, what he was doing right this moment. If Xavier was occupying his time.

His focus subconsciously fell to the table.

Pete: Pete could practically feel MJ's eyes boring into him, not that MJ seemed to be making much effort to hide it. Or any effort at all.

What was running through that newly melded mind of his? Was he thinking about their history? Their present situation? Something else entirely? Pete didn't dare ask.

"Rethinking regretting the beer?" he said instead, voice softer than he intended.

MJ: "I dunno what I like. I know I'll drink anything, but..." MJ laughed, fangs unashamedly present. "Thinkin' about parsnip wine."

Fingers tapped to his temple. He didn't have to explain why.

Pete: At the sight of those fangs, Pete cast a quick glance around to make sure Dwight and Charlie's attention was elsewhere. Thankfully they were both busy.

"There's such a thing as parsnip wine?" he chuckled.

MJ: Made it before. Two hundred and something years ago. "Mhm. More beer than wine." He could practically taste it. A first in this new life. Fucking interesting. He closed his eyes, allowed the memory to saturate his thoughts.

"A wagon, campfire. Cold knees. Sex. Wine on my tongue." And breasts. Someone beneath him. Where they belonged.

His eyes opened, his smile returning. "Blue Moon is better."

Pete: Pete squinted. One word stood out above all the rest. "A wagon? Like a covered wagon?" Had Victoria Harrak been a pioneer blowing people for whatever the hell parsnip wine was?

"I'm gonna go ahead and say that yes, it absolutely is." He smiled around a sip. "Everyone knows oranges are better than parsnips."

MJ: "I like the company more," he said without thinking.

Pete: The smile grew before he could do anything to stop it.

"Right back at you." He lifted his beer in a toast. "To our health and to Charlie's questionable carpet."

MJ: "To fucked up stains on the floor." He clinked their glasses and laughed.

Pete/Charlie: "I hear ya'll over there casting aspersions!" came Charlie's voice from down the bar.

"We love you, too, Charles."

MJ: "Wonder how good them ears really are."

Pete: "Charlie's got ears like a fruit bat," said Pete. "He hears all. Must be the conspiracy theorist in him."

MJ: "I'm a vampire. You're a werebear. Charles is a skunk."

Pete: He laughed. "Are wereskunks a thing? Because he'd totally be one."

MJ: "He is one. Or a black lab. Maybe a rottweiler. Weredogs a thing?" Still waiting for Charles to chime in again.

Pete: Charlie had moved even further way; if he heard them, he gave no indication of it.

"Probably not? I think werewolves fill that role."

MJ: "Huh. I guess. I swear there's somethin'. I can see it." Oh well. Probably another one of those memories-not-memories.

Pete: “Maybe it’s some other type of creature, not necessarily a Fera. Like a demon dog or something.”

MJ: "D'y like what ya are?" A question asked softly, sotto voce, giving an ounce of real privacy.

Pete: “I didn’t really at first. It’s weird to suddenly be a bear, you know? It’s overwhelming to wake up one day and not know yourself. I’ve come around to it though.”

MJ: "Sounds the same, then. Heard some of em eat their own." MJ casually glanced around the bar, breathed in deeply. No, Charles' wasn't anything but a man in need of a shower.

Pete: Pete blinked. “Seriously? Yikes. I really hope that’s not true.”

MJ: "It is. I mean, not you but it is what it is. D'ya feel more... feral?" He expected the answer to be no, given that Peter, as far as they were aware, was born human.

Pete: "Not feral, per se. Just feel more...bear like. I swear the whole winter I was exhausted. I went to bed every night at like 8:30 like an old man."

MJ: "Ha!" So fucking neat. "Ya wanna eat everything in your fridge, too?"

Pete: "I did. I had the mealtimes of a hobbit."

MJ: "Holy fuck. I wanna see that."

Pete: Pete laughed. "You wanna see me eat twenty million times a day?"

MJ: "Yeah, actually. I wanna see ya bear out."

Pete: "Wanna hang out with me next full moon?"

MJ: "Should be here. If ya want me here."

Pete: He smiled over his beer. “I’d like that. You’re officially invited.”

MJ: "How long is that? Ya just know, or gotta look it up?"

Pete: “In a few days. I have full moons marked on my phone’s calendar.”

MJ: "How soon ‘fore ya feel different?"

Pete: “The closer the full moon gets the more bear like I feel. It’s not too much yet but it will be here pretty soon.”

MJ: "So it's both, I guess?"

Pete: “Kinda, yeah. I don’t know if I pay more attention to my bear feelings because I know the full moon is coming or if I’d feel them even if I didn’t know.”

MJ: "Should see. Never know, ya know?"

MJ stared down the barrel of his glass, let his thoughts swim for a moment in nothingness before his next sip.

Pete: Pete nodded thoughtfully. "Guess it wouldn't hurt to experiment one of these months."

He gestured toward the beer. "Any enjoyment at all in that or are you just thinking about having to throw it up later?"

MJ: "Ya remembered that?"

Pete: Another nod. "Yep. One of them vampire facts that sticks in the mind."

MJ: "Guess so. What else ya remember?"

Pete: He made a face. "The butt teeth."

MJ: "Excuse me what?"

Pete: “Guildias gave me a book that talked about this one clan who likes to experiment with body horror shit and scarred me for life.”

MJ: "Uh," MJ laughed. "Okay, I meant me. Let's leave butt teeth with the snake charmer."

Pete: “Speaking of snakes, make any appear on bars lately?”

MJ: "Look here, that was just a joke."

Pete: Pete chuckled. “A lot funnier after the fact. Thing looked so damn real.”

MJ: "Hey, I don't know ya. We're supposed t'start over."

Pete: “Right, of course.” He smiled. “Tell me about your magic dog travel buddy.”

MJ: "Mm. Well, Abel's a familiar. Not mine, but," shrug. "Gorgeous face; free to admire. He's a little terror. Insatiable. Probably'll show up 'fore dawn."

Pete: "Insatiable for food?" He hoped?

MJ: "Food n'everything else." MJ returned his gaze and squinted. He knew what Peter was getting at.

Pete: Getting at? He was getting at nothing.

“You should bring him by the pub. Bobby’s doing a lot of comfort food lately.”

MJ: "Up to him. Ya wanna meet him?"

Pete: "Sure. Always interesting to meet someone with magic."

MJ: "D'ya really wanna meet em, or ya just sayin' that?"

Pete: "I wouldn't say it if I didn't wanna meet him."

MJ: "I dunno that."

Pete: He smiled. "Fair enough. I really would like to meet him."

MJ: "How much of what ya say is 'cause of the past?"

Pete: "I'm trying not to, promise."

MJ: "What have ya said, though?"

Pete: "The snake on the bar thing."

MJ: Gasp! "It didn't look real?!"

Pete: Pete laughed. "No, it totally did."

MJ: "What else?"

Pete: "That's all, scout's honor. I really do want us to start fresh."

MJ: MJ leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in hand. Another squint.

Pete: The squint would be met with an earnest smile.

MJ: "Don't love me, Peter."

Pete: To Pete's credit, the smile never faltered.

"We're just getting to know each other over beers that one of us will throw up later."

MJ: "Wow. Ya went there."

Pete: He chuckled. "I can't stop thinking about it. I feel bad that you have to."

MJ: "Don't want ya t'drink alone."

Pete: "Thanks, I appreciate it." He thought for a moment. "Would you still have to if whatever you were drinking was mixed with blood?"

MJ: "Depends on how much it is, I think. Probably eventually."

Pete: "My mentor's grandson told me about the neighboring prince drinking wine mixed with virgin blood, but I could never quite tell if he was serious or if he was just fucking with me."

MJ: "Probably meant it. If they're older than me - prince - then m'not surprised."

Pete: "I think he said she was a couple hundred years old at least."

MJ: "Yep." MJ stretched his arms and sank deeper into his seat. All but melting.

"Ya figured out how long ya got?"

Pete: "Over a hundred but possibly under two? That's my best guesstimate."

MJ: Without something to say, Peter was left with a smile, simple albeit genuine.

Pete: That was more than enough as far as Pete was concerned. This place they were in was fresh and new but it was good. This was good.

“Had enough of this A+ ambiance or wanna stay for another round?”

MJ: "We just got here! Regale me with stories of the pub. I pick next round. I think it's time ya had some cinnamon schnapps."

Pete: "Oh man," he laughed. "I haven't had that since I was...fifteen maybe? Snuck a bottle from the pub and my friends and I took it down to the beach and passed it around."

MJ: "Jesus. Yeah. Regale me with freckle-faced you when the world was young and excitin'," laughed MJ.

Pete: "Well, in a shock to no one, we got super plastered. It was nearly one in the morning when we stumbled home and the second my mom opened the door ready to tear me a new one for breaking curfew, I puked all over the porch."

MJ: MJ feigned disapproval, shaking his head. "How could she ever love ya after that?"

Pete: "Right? The shame of it all. I was grounded for three weeks and my dad made me bus tables to pay for the bottle we took."

MJ: "What a good boy ya are." And a wink to follow.

Pete: Another laugh. "Oh yeah, a Goldschlager-stealing teenage paragon of virtue."

MJ: "Nothin' wrong with stealin', if ya don't get caught."

Pete: "Or if you don't throw your guts up on your front porch and also your mom."

MJ: "She's never forgiven ya. She mighta said it, but she didn't. Her feet'll never forgive ya."

Pete: "It's definitely not in her Top Mothering Moments highlight reel. She tells that story literally every time she makes something with cinnamon in it and I happen to be around."

MJ: "Forever punishin'. That's a -" MJ watched the door. The couple walking in, talking passionately about something. Politics, maybe. There was laughter, so he doubted.

"That's a mom. Don't think ours would get along."

Pete: Pete briefly followed MJ's gaze, turning away again upon not recognizing the couple.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

MJ: "'Cause my mama woulda rubbed your back n'left it at that."

Pete: "She wouldn't have grounded me?"

MJ: "She woulda asked if ya learned anything from it."

Pete: "I did, in fact. I learned a very valuable lesson that day."

MJ: "S'all matters t'her."

Pete: "My mom liked to drive home the 'you done fucked up' point. My dad was more like your mom. If you broke something you had to fix or replace but he was a lesson guy above all."

MJ: MJ just smiled, thoughts filled with Kenna and all the lessons she had to discover herself. Lessons he'd had the shock of learning himself. Ones he refused to intervene in her coming of age. Too damn stubborn to listen, anyways. Pick and choose the battles. You only get one hill to die on, his mother said.

"How many times were ya grounded?"

Pete: "During my entire childhood? Oh, man," he chuckled. "Too many to count. Most weren't that big a deal, the Goldschlager incident was one of the big ones. Probably the biggest."

MJ: "Why'd ya do it?"

Pete: "Curiosity, dumb teenage judgment. I remember being very impressed with the gold flakes in the bottle."

MJ: "That's it? Just 'cause ya could?"

Pete: "Pretty much. Boredom probably played a part, too. It was during the summer."

MJ: "Look at chu. Thought ya woulda had t'have some kinda excuse. Maybe somethin' angsty."

Pete: Pete just smiled and finished off his beer. “Nah, I was just fifteen and dumb. Being grounded during the summer by the way? The worst.”

MJ: "You're just old enough iPads didn't rot your brain. We were spared."

Pete: “Right? Being bored was an integral part of growing up.”

MJ: "I was never bored." Said like a challenge.

Pete: “Spoken like a man that never broke a window with a soccer ball.”

MJ: "Your mama punished accidents?"

Pete: “I’m sure she would’ve done something, but my dad standing beside her dying laughing kinda ruined her plans.”

MJ: "Kinda dig ruined plans these days."

Pete: “She barely got the middle names out when my dad just started wheeze-laughing.”

MJ: "I only got the middle name once."

Pete: "Only once? Impressive. What caused it?"

MJ: "Gettin' kicked outta college."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep, that'll do it."

MJ: "More like gettin' caught with my hand in the cookie jar." He shrugged. "But you. You're a bad boy. Gettin' caught all the time."

Pete: "The soccer ball incident was all Luke. That's why he's a goalie, he can't aim for shit."

MJ: "His center of gravity is better than ours. He should be the best."

Pete: "You'd think so," Pete chuckled. "But nope, he can't aim. He played goalie in school and for a while for our weekly game but his true calling is being ref."

MJ: "Knew a guy that every game hit someone's car."

Pete: "Accidentally? Or on purpose?"

MJ: "Baseball wasn't his game."

Pete: "Damn. He ever break any windows?"

MJ: "Fuck. Mike broke many fuckin' windows. Sent one flyin' into Jock's fuckin' shoulder. Hit a teacher's car. Hit his mama's car. It was fuckin' great."

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "Jesus Christ. Mike, my guy, you should've cut and run after like the second window."

MJ: "Mike's a father now. He teaches his kid how t'play."

Pete: "Did the kid inherit his skills?"

MJ: "No idea." He gestured to his body. "Don't keep in touch anymore."

Pete: "I kinda hope the kid broke one of his car windows."

MJ: "Same. Probably will. That whole family is klutz."

Pete: "Bless their hearts. I feel like breaking windows is a rite of passage for kids. Even June and her siblings broke one."

MJ: "June?" Oh! He snapped his fingers. "The lil fake blonde!"

Pete: "Thankfully the fake blonde days are long since past. She's stayed brunette and boxes now."

MJ: "Punched her boyfriend out?"

Pete: "No but I hope she goes back and does it someday. She's bartending now. Waitress days are long gone too."

MJ: "She a strong independent Latina now."

Pete: "She is. She's a cat mom, too. Her cat is my cat's brother."

MJ: "...Ah." The damn cat again. That link to a man he intended to visit. One of these nights. Maybe.

"Ready for that second round?"

Pete: "Yep. Let's relive my youth, minus the puking and grounding."

MJ: "Well. One of us is gonna do it. I'll take the bullet." Dwight was waved down and given their order. A leap from Blue Moon to say the least.

Pete: "You're a real trooper, and I mean that."

Dwight had no reaction to the order beyond a nod but Charlie, who was back at their end of the bar, couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head.

MJ: MJ just smiled. A tricky subject to broach, but he wanted to.

"So. How's your love life? Any hook ups?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nope, none. Love life is pretty much non-existent."

MJ: "What a perfect waste of a good beard."

Pete: He snorted. "You sound like Sylvain."

MJ: "Which one is that?"

Pete: "My mentor's grandson. The one who told me about the virgin blood wine."

MJ: "See, this why I think ya need t'find your dad."

Pete: "...Because I'm not hooking up?"

MJ: "'Cause your mentor ain't a bear."

Pete: "Gaetan being my mentor pre-dated me finding out I'm a bear. It's just another thing he helped me through, I didn't seek him out specifically because of it."

MJ: "How'd ya find him?"

Pete: "By pure chance," Pete said softly, something quietly awed in his voice. "In a marketplace."

MJ: "He just took ya home with him?"

Pete: "Not quite." He nodded his thanks to Dwight as their drinks were placed in front of them.

Once he was sure no one was listening, he continued. "I'd been in St. Malo a couple of days and went to the marketplace after a local told me about it. I go, look around, have some breakfast, pretty standard. But then as I'm walking around, I start to feel like someone is staring at me. You know that feeling when all the little hairs on your neck stand up? That but more...I don't know, intense? So I stop and look around to see if I can spot who it is when I see this old, old man sitting at a little table beside a produce stand. He looked about ninety-something and he's staring right at me, like he's trying to see through me. We make eye contact and he just smiles and beckons me over."

MJ: "Your mentor is in his 90s?" Was all MJ had taken from the story so far. He imagined some frail old bastard with a beard down to his knees. Eyebrows untamed bushes, ridiculous and forgotten. A man to use his walking stick to smack sense into idiot children.

Pete: Pete smiled. "Patience, grasshopper. So he's beckoning me over and I'm standing there wondering if I should move closer or turn and walk in the other direction. For god knows what reason, I move closer. He points at the chair in front of him, I sit. Then he pulls out this little leather pouch and asks me what my name is in heavily accented but perfect English, which caught me off guard since a lot of the older people I met couldn't speak English that well. Anyway, I tell him and he dumps out the little pouch--which had runes in it--and proceeds to cast them for me to tell me my fortune."

MJ: Patience, then. He was hungry for more. That which he'd been ignorant to during their relationship. Things he no longer had the energy to wish for. In regards to Peter and to Rohan, he felt numb. Victoria's doing, no doubt.

"A hot piece of ass in your future. A great fortune n'a bigger cock."

Pete: He snorted and shook his head. "Not quite. I don't even know if I can call it telling me my fortune. He just told me stuff about me. How I was feeling, where I'd been, what path I was on. Very spiritual. And unsettling. Mostly unsettling if we're being completely honest, but also intriguing? I don't know if that's the right word for it but it made me want to keep sitting there talking to him. He had this energy about him that felt familiar and not familiar at the same time. I felt like..." He squinted, trying to find the right words.

"You know that feeling you get in dreams, where the people you're interacting with are completely real to you in that moment but some part of you knows it's not?"

MJ: "I don't dream much anymore, but I know what ya mean. I think. Things bein' real n'not real is kinda my schtick. So then what happened?"

Pete: "Actually yeah, it's kinda like the snake on the bar. Not to keep bringing it up or anything but as I was looking at him I felt the same way I did that day. That split second of believing the snake was completely real before my brain remembered it was an illusion. Something about this mysterious old man seemed like an illusion as I was sitting there with him, even though I knew he was completely real. The woman running the stall talked to him, a few people that passed said hello to him. He was definitely real and he could definitely tell I was having this internal debate, I'm sure I looked confused as hell. It amused him enough to invite me to his house for lunch. Well, their house I should say, because it turned out the woman running the stall was his daughter. And once again, for god only knows what reason, I accepted the invitation and went to their place for lunch. I say house but really it's a villa."

MJ: A simple sentence in that statement tightened MJ's brows. Restricted his attention to the rest of the story. A story of an illusionary man was intrigue enough, but that damn statement wouldn't leave him be.

"Remembered it was an illusion?"

Pete: "Maybe I didn't phrase that right." He thought for a moment. "You ever see footage of like...supposed hauntings or UFOs or something and there's that initial mental gasp before something kicks in that tells you that what you're seeing isn't real?"

MJ: "Is that a challenge?"

Pete: "Definitely not," Pete chuckled. "Not here at least. Maybe you can test me when you come along on the full moon."

MJ: "Was it 'cause it didn't move?"

Pete: "Partially. It was insanely realistic though."

MJ: "Did things all the time. Ya just didn't -" That's not what this was meant to be. He couldn't break his own rule. "Drink your schnapps."

Pete: Pete took an obedient sip, and almost instantly a smile broke out across his face.

"Tastes like being a dumb teenager."

MJ: "So, like begin' sick?" Being sick, verses what he really wanted to say. Polite-ish company and all.

Pete: "Nah, everything that came before. It was fun before the being sick and getting grounded."

MJ: "Bein' grounded didn't do shit. Ya badass kid."

Pete: That got a laugh. "No one has ever called me that, ever. It didn't stop me from being dumb but it sure ruined my life for three weeks."

MJ: "Shit's slower as a kid. Of course it was for-fuckin-ever." A thought which had him looking down the bottom of his glass. "They say it gets like that after two hundred. Ya know. Them."

Pete: He nodded as he took another sip. "Gaetan says that, too."

MJ: "After how long?"

Pete: "I doubt you'll believe me if I tell you."

MJ: "Guess ya really did have your own adventure."

Pete: “It was an adventure and a half. I really hope I’m not boring you, I know it’s a lot.”

MJ: "Boring me? The fuck ya think you're talkin' to?"

Pete: "Just making sure! Not everyone likes hearing long-winded things."

MJ: "Well, lucky for ya, I happen t'like em."

Pete: "I'm glad," he said with a smile. "You and Gaetan would get along."

MJ: "Why's that?"

Pete: "He likes long-winded stories, messing with people, going on adventures. He's been to space."

MJ: "Long winded makes em sound shitty." A finger raised. "Space?"

Pete: “Space!"

MJ: "Elaborate!" he laughed.

Pete: "Should I pick up where I left off or tell you the space part?"

MJ: "I think we need t'digress right quick."

Pete: "He's always been really fascinated by space and astronomy so as soon as being an astronaut became a thing that people could do, he became one. He worked on the very first American space station in the 70s."

MJ: "He's a fuckin' astronaut? Name in the books n'everything? How'd he get away with that?" He knew how Kindred could. Information a now simple subconscious existence. It hadn't occurred to him to consider outside of his circle.

Pete: Pete just smiled again as he took another sip of schnapps. "The same way I thought he was a ninety year-old man."

MJ: "Ya can't just glamour a fuckin' background check!"

A quick glance around. Ignore the yelling biker.

Pete/Charlie: Everyone mostly did, except for one Charles Brandt.

He squinted at MJ. "The hell ya'll talking about over there?"

MJ: "Lion tamin'!"

Charlie: "Pffft, sure, and Marilyn OD'ed."

MJ: "What? Ain't seen Tiger King?"

Charlie: "Who's the tiger king?"

MJ: "Bless ya."

Charlie: "Don't patronize me, ankle biter."

MJ: "I mean it! Saved precious hours of your life!"

Charlie: "Oh. Well that's all right then."

MJ: MJ returned his rescuing smile back to Peter.

Pete: "Nice save," Pete said under his breath.

MJ: "Baby, m'all about saves."

Pete: "You really friggin' are. And to answer your question, he's not currently an astronaut but he's thinking about giving it another go soon. He fabricates identities fairly regularly."

MJ: "So, guess the older ya get the more perfect ya are."

Pete: "He's had a loooong time to get the process down pat."

MJ: "I don't trust anything that sounds perfect."

Pete: "I don't know if I'd describe him as perfect. He's perfected a lot of things just because he's so goddamn old but the man himself? Human as human can be."

MJ: "Hmm. Don't trust anything that old with humanity."

Pete: Pete chuckled. "That the vampire in you speaking or just you?"

MJ: "Maybe both. Don't judge me."

Pete: "Oh no, I don't. I can completely see why someone wouldn't trust him, I don't blame you."

MJ: "But ya did."

Pete: "I did, yeah. Feels like he stitched me back together. Not just him, though. Being there, the whole experience."

MJ: "Mm. I can't say shit on the matter."

Pete: "Sounds like you had your own similar experience, only in a different setting."

MJ: "What, runnin' away from shit?"

Pete: "With your demon friend."

MJ: "Apples n'oranges."

Pete: "True. But they're both still fruits at the end of the day."

MJ: His mouth opened - closed. "Nah. M'thinkin' a tomatoes."

Pete: "Tomatoes?"

MJ: "Fruit."

Pete: "Well, it might not go in a fruit salad but it's still a fruit, too. That's all life is. One big salad."

MJ: "Dude, you're a fuckin' hippie."

Pete: Well he was just all smiles now, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight as he finished off his glass. "Yep, 'fraid so."

MJ: "I miss the man that would throw punches." He didn't mean to say that out loud, but too late. He would mirror finishing his own glass to shut his mouth.

Pete: Pete tried to temper his expression. It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one to have a slip on this new leaf of theirs.

"If it makes you feel any better, he threw one a couple weeks ago."

MJ: Like a dog with perked ears. "Who deserved it?"

Pete: "Creepy old perv that cornered a kid at the park."

MJ: "The fuck? How many times did ya punch him?"

Pete: "Twice. Cal and I had gone to the soccer field one evening just for fun and when we first arrived at the park there was this group of kids hanging out by the swings. Oldest one looked about fourteen. When we were leaving we passed by the playground again and there was only one of the kids left and this mouth-breathing cockbag had him pressed against one of the poles."

MJ: "The fuck did he - Did ya tell Bre..." Oh. Right. That can of half-dead worms. MJ looked away, arms coming in to cross and rest on his stomach. "The sheriff woulda taken care of him."

Pete: "He did. Cal called him while I tried not to commit murder."

MJ: The vampire's lips slowly thinned. "How is he?"

Pete: "Regrettably still alive, but in the county jail."

MJ: "Nanana - the uh, the sheriff."

Pete: "Oh! He's fine. Also had to resist the urge to commit murder. Actually the second time he had to resist, and for the exact same reason."

MJ: "Thought this was gonna be a meth town. I'd rather a meth town. Whatever." With that, he was on his feet, fishing for his wallet.

Pete: "The only comfort--if it can even be called that--is that the cockbag doesn't live here. Fucking tourists."

He quickly shook his head and reached for his own wallet. "No no no, you don't have to do that. I'll get it."

MJ: "Why? Did ya win the lottery?"

Pete: He just smiled and placed a few bills on the bar. "Let your new friend buy your drinks, wouldya please?"

MJ: "New friend tryin'ta get in my pants?"

Pete: "New friend who will hold your metaphorical hair while you're sick."

MJ: "Tisk. Aw jeez. What a pal." A five was tossed out of friendly spite.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just laughed and waved goodbye to Dwight and Charles. "Good seeing you, Charlie."

"You, too, kid. Ya'll come back now."

MJ: "Ya go treat yourself t'the spa! On me, Charl." The door was allowed to close with its own weight behind him.

Pete/Charlie: "There are cheaper ways to get a happy ending!" Charles called after them.

Pete shook his head as the door closed. "Ol' Charl never changes. He's gonna outlive us all."

MJ: "If he's anything he hides it like a pro."

Pete: "He's probably just some kind of super human powered by stubbornness and whiskey sours."

MJ: "My uncle lived on canned beans and bacon. Anything's possible."

Pete: "Some people just have that gene I guess. So. Where to now?"

MJ: "Need t'find some kinda spell t'push this town closer t'the city."

Pete: "And have them city slickers ruining the place? Never."

MJ: "Nothin' t'do 'round here. How did I - mm." A hand clasped firmly to his stomach.

Pete: Uh oh.

He looked around for a suitable bush. "Over there. Easy does it now."

MJ: "'Easy does it'? Did ya gain fifty years while I was gone?" To the bush, then.

Pete: "I've got a pregnant sister I've been saying it to a lot. Need anything to make this easier?"

MJ: Peter was waved off. "Fuck off for a minute." No one needed to see vomit and blood and hear the retched sound.

Pete: "Yep, can do." Pete was just gonna step a safe distance away and turn around while MJ did what he needed to do.

MJ: The unmistakable sound would reach Peter's ears within moments. Spit and curses following. All for the sake of company and some shred of domesticity.

"Where to now? My place. I need some fuckin' Listerine."

Pete: Pete winced. Not because of the sound, he'd heard worse. He just wanted MJ to feel comfortable.

"Sure thing. Need a napkin or anything?"

MJ: "Don't fuckin' baby me. I got it."

Pete: "All right, all right. Lead the way then."

MJ: Miles to the mobile home park. To the same lot which had been his years ago. The same people, the same attitudes. Not so late in the night for silence. A herd of children were being rounded up by two men armed with water guns.

Leslie Issott waved with his free hand, saying nothing in his passing. Yellow and pink squirt gun still aimed at his neighbor's son.

Pete: It had been ages since Pete had walked down this way, or walked this much on a non-full moon night. Something to remedy now that the weather was starting to warm up.

Pete smiled at Leslie as they passed, returning the wave.

"Place always looks exactly the same," he said absently. "Or it seems to, anyway."

MJ: "S'real people. Kind m'not interested in - in that way, ya know?"

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. Any of them roll out the welcome wagon for you?"

MJ: "Just got here." Tunnel vision for this meeting, MJ hadn't lingered long enough for anyone to say hello.

Pete: Another nod. "Bet someone does before long."

Pete's eyes narrowed as they approached MJ's house. "Does your RV look...newer?"

MJ: "Uh... yeah. Other one kinda... broke."

Pete: "Really? Huh. Well, an upgrade is always nice."

MJ: "I guess. Shit happens."

Yes, it was his RV, but he was going to knock for Abel's sake.

Abel: Abel was sitting upside down watching something on his phone when the scent of MJ registered a moment before he heard the knock at the door.

"I'm not naked!" he called. Although at this point, did it really matter? They'd been living in the same space for ages, what was a bare ass between friends.

MJ: A statement which put a smile on MJ's face. A wink to Peter before opening the door.

"Good, 'cause I got innocent eyes here that don't need t'see your dangly bits."

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed in confused amusement at the shouted greeting.

"Is he usually naked?" he asked before they stepped inside.

Abel turned toward MJ and their surprise guest. He gasped. "Did you make a friend? In less than twenty-four hours?! I'm so proud!"

MJ: "Shaddup. This is Peter. Remember Peter? " Said casually, of course, but the look in his eye was one which said "be nice" in all capital letters above his head. If only he could manage that without Peter noticing.

Pete/Abel: Whether Pete noticed or not, he was going to pretend he didn't.

Abel did though. "Oh! Yeah, I do!" He righted himself and got to his feet. "Hi, Peter, I'm Abel. I promise not to show you my dangly bits."

Pete laughed and reached out to shake his hand. "I appreciate that. You can call me Pete, by the way."

MJ: This felt awkward. Hours and hours and miles and miles leading up to this moment, and he wanted to turn his ass around and pull Peter by the collar.

And yet, in contrast, why care? What was the point?

"Gonna swish." Abel was given another look. "I did the thing."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Ew, gross. Forget swishing, go whole hog and brush your teeth. I'll entertain Pete with some jokes and an improvised dance number."

MJ: "I need t'put on some cabaret?" He'd certainly hum some on the way to the bathroom.

Pete/Abel: “Every little thing helps!” Abel called after him, swaying along with the tune until it faded.

He turned back to Pete and smiled. “All right. I’m gonna bounce. I owe you some jokes.”

“Oh no, you don’t have t—“

“I don’t but I do so I’m gonna. Good to meet you, Pete.”

“Abel, really—“

“Nope, trust me, you both need this.”

And just like that, he was gone.

MJ: He did a thing, now Abel did a thing. He could feel it in the silence. What side was the damn familiar on?

"It got quiet," gargled from behind the bathroom door.

Pete: “Uh...yeah, it did. Your friend decided to make himself scarce.”

MJ: "What did he think, we gonna fuck?"

Pete: “Does he? You know him better than I do.”

MJ: "Askin' if he said that or somethin'."

Pete: “He just said we both needed this.”

MJ: The door was carefully kicked open while he swished. Words in neon orange above his head, struggling to remain visible.

'You agree?'

Pete: Impossible not to smile. A small bit of magic perhaps but incredibly impressive. Sure beat the hell out of pantomiming.

"Maybe, yeah. Do you?"

MJ: He didn't want to just dismiss the idea. Abel was meant to be some sort of buffer. Part of the reason he'd been brought across country. Abel must have known that.

The neon changed color, faded to yellow question marks.

Pete: "He could've felt like he'd be intruding by staying. Or he didn't wanna make it weird."

MJ: Time to spit. "Was it weird?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Not at Charlie's, but that was more familiar. Meeting someone new is always a little weird. Even for normal people."

MJ: "Familiars eat that shit up. Least that one does." The door was shut behind him. Jacket tossed over the nearest seat.

Pete: "Maybe he just wanted to give you some privacy." He smiled. "You know, like friends do."

MJ: "Maybe he thinks we'll fuck."

Pete: Another shrug. "A logical assumption, I guess. Anyone would think the same."

MJ: "Anyone? 'Cause we had a wild year t'gether?"

Pete: "People assume far more about people who've known each other for far less."

MJ: MJ leaned his shoulder against the nearest bit of wall, picked at his less-than-perfect fingernails.

"Ya remember what ya said t'me, once, 'bout how I didn't give ya enough attention?"

Pete: Pete nodded and looked down at his hands. He remembered every excruciating moment alongside the good ones.

"I do."

MJ: "What was it?"

Pete: "I said..." A sigh. "I said that I felt like I had to share you with everyone, that you seemed to have time for everyone but me."

MJ: "I didn't vamp into this." He gestured around the RV. "I was raised in one of these until Kenna was born. Daddy got us a brick n'mortar, but I still lived in the RV. Never had a curfew. No questions but if I had a good time, if I got caught. If we wanted t'get up n'go, we got up n'went. M'not used t'this." Pointed between them.

"I left Rohan, too. Just got that itch. Wasn't safe, it said. Then I got chased. Everything screamin' at me t'save myself. Like bein' backed in a corner." More picking at his nails, looking up to continue.

"I loved Rohan. I loved you. Still do, but that's just love. That ain't... enough reason t'do anything more than say I love ya."

Pete: They'd had such different upbringings. Not quite polar opposite, but still different. He tried to imagine his own parents taking that approach, tried to imagine how he would be and how his siblings would be if they had.

A dull, familiar ache pulsed in his chest as he offered MJ a small smile. "I don't have any illusions or expectations of anything more. I didn't even have illusions or expectations of that. Hope, sure, but not any expectations. I just want you to be happy and okay."

MJ: "But ya wanted me here. I get wantin' texts or somethin'. I get that now. Back then, that was too much, but that's on me."

Pete: "I probably was, too. Too needy, too emotional, asking too much. If I was, at any point, I'm sorry."

MJ: "Ya wanted the picture. I ain't ever been the picture, Peter."

Pete: "Well, it's like the Stones say, you don't always get what you want. It was unfair of me to try to fit you into some ideal. Some mold. You deserve better than that from someone who loves you."

MJ: "N'ya deserve someone that's around. M'not gonna always be around. Ya deserve what ya always wanted."

Pete: "The rest of that lyric is 'if you try sometimes, you get what you need'."

MJ was given another smile. "You know what I really want? Something real. Not the ideal or the mold or the thing that looks like what everyone thinks it should look like. I just want something real."

MJ: "How m'I supposed t'know what ya really mean n'what you'll say t'get what ya want?" Spoken carefully and clearly despite his accent, words as delicate as the situation.

Pete: Pete gave a small shrug. "I think this is something where actions speak louder than words. I can tell you all day but that won't make you believe me. I have to prove it to you."

MJ: Fingernails were beginning to warm from constant picking. Too good of a distraction.

"Same."

Pete: "So I guess my question is, what can I do to prove it to you?"

MJ: "I don't have the answer, either. Thought about it the whole way here. Only thing I came up with was pretendin' we never met."

Pete: "Well..." He offered up smile. "We've made our introductions, new friend. The rest is in the lap of the gods."

MJ: "Ya believe in that stuff?"

Pete: "In gods?"

MJ: "Mhm."

Pete: "I don't think I'm a capital 'B' believer, but I do, yeah. I pray my Druid prayers every day. It comforts me."

MJ: "Callum, I guess?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Madeleine. Gaetan's current eldest daughter."

MJ: "Current eldest?"

Pete: "His family tree is pure chaos. Took me a long time to get it straight. He's had countless children in his life, countless daughters. Madeleine is his eldest at the moment and she looks like she could be his mother."

MJ: "He just lets em all die?"

Pete: "He gives them a choice."

MJ: "Sure." He didn't know enough to have an opinion, outside of the wary of druids and their strange magic.

Pete: Pete didn't understand it much either, but it was one of those things he hadn't felt comfortable inquiring on further.

"Yeah, so. Madeleine was the one who suggested I join her during her evening prayer and eventually taught them to me. She said people derive comfort from their prayers. She must've thought I looked like I needed comfort."

MJ: "What were ya like 'fore I came here? The guy I met at the bar, I only knew him for a little 'fore ya became this."

Pete: "I'm not all that different. From my perspective anyway. Just less angry, not in as much inner turmoil, or that weird feeling of limbo I didn't realize I had."

MJ: "Maybe what ya fell in love with in me ain't here anymore."

Pete: "I could say the same to you. You may very well decide I'm insufferable and not want anything to do with me." Pete shrugged. "We won't know until we get to know each other."

MJ: "How d'ya wanna get t'know me? Ya got somethin' in mind? Ya thought about this, didn't ya?"

Pete: He just smiled. "Only thing I had in mind was to take you with me on a full moon. Or invite you at least. Maybe go for a swim, catch some fish."

MJ: "I'll come with ya. Yeah. But what ya wanna do until then?"

Pete: "Right this minute? We could watch something or go down to the pub with Abel."

MJ: "We just left a bar!" MJ laughed.

Pete: "We don't have to drink! We can just be there and people watch or bother Bobby. Watching something is also an option at the pub, I put a TV in my office."

MJ: "You're a workaholic."

Pete: “I put it up there precisely so I could have a little break from work. And the cats really like it.”

MJ: "Catsssss?"

Pete: “June brings Socks with her so he can hang out with his brother.”

MJ: "N'people think I'm a nut."

Pete: “You got nothing on us crazy cat people,” Pete said with a grin.

MJ: "I mean, rat person. Totally different breed."

Pete: “Midas is a rat person, too. Only hunts bugs and sticks.”

MJ: "I don't trust a face that beautiful."

Pete: “That beautiful little face once watched a field mouse eat his food and just meowed and looked sad.”

MJ: "The mouse will always come back now."

Pete: "He definitely did a couple times before we came back to the States."

MJ: "Alright, so ya want outta the RV?"

Pete: "Unless you wanna watch something here or just keep talking. I don't much mind where we go."

MJ: His mind was pulled in two directions. One simple and safe, one convoluted and certainly unsafe. Maybe a test. One which pushed leadership into Peter's hands as he stepped closer, less than the appropriate distance of acquaintanceship. His scent had not changed. Leather, gasoline, nature. The same cinnamon toothpaste. MJ took a breath, wanting to breathe in nostalgia.

Pete: Pete went very still as MJ approached, watching him with quiet curiosity and perhaps just a hint of caution.

He did smell exactly the same, reminded Pete of exactly the same things. Of his motorcycle and the forest. He wondered if he did, too. He still wore the same cologne, still smelled vaguely of smoke, still used the same soap.

So many things had remained the same and once upon a time, Pete would've just leaned forward to kiss MJ, easy as anything. But not everything was the same; there were things that had changed. They had changed.

All Pete could think to do was smile and say, "Let's go walk on the beach."

MJ: Well, there were some of their answers. Not the expected reaction of the man he'd once fallen to pieces over. Maybe that spontaneity had aged; maybe that new scent brought with it a composure his Peter hadn't possessed. Either way, he couldn't expect change and what had been his sweetheart to remain the same.

"Sure."

'You're gettin' hazed when ya get home. Ya in my head, pup?'

Anyway, a new shirt, same jacket. "Lead the way."

Pete/Abel: Spontaneity had given way to caution, at least for now. He wanted to kiss MJ. To hug him and cling to him and have everything be exactly as it had once been, as easy as it had once been.

But if he gave in to those wants, he risked losing MJ entirely. MJ could take it as proof that Pete wasn't really prepared to start at square one or that he was too hung up on who MJ had been to accept who he was now. And kissing MJ once right now wasn't worth potentially losing him. As ready as Pete was to fight for him and as willing as he was to start over, he wasn't willing to take that risk.

Pete smiled. "All right. I can show you the two-headed turtle."

'I made myself scarce! It's polite to make yourself scarce when your roommate brings his ex home!' Abel thought back.

MJ: The voice in his head, feminine and ripe with wisdom reminded him that this was for the best. Nothing lasted forever, not even immortals. Why should love be any different? A human lifetime was gone in a snap. Fera fell right behind them. Where were druids? These were not hills to die upon.

But he loved them both. He loved the memory of one, and the purity of the other. Hills.

'He's not a - doesn't matter! I needed a buffer ya dick!'

Peter was shooed from the door, locking the RV behind him. Not a barrier for the familiar. 'Go get laid or somethin'.'

Abel: 'Well then you should've said so! Communication, MJ. Remember that whole conversation we had about sharing our feelings with that homeless guy in Nebraska?'

But if it was buffer MJ wanted, then buffer he would get.

Within moments, Abel would come barreling out of the darkness with a tennis ball in his mouth, once more in dog form.

MJ: Fucking goddamn!

"Didn't wanna go get laid, huh?" The ball was grabbed from his mouth, thrown further down the dirt road.

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed as he scented the air. "...Abel?"

A confirming bark before the familiar went racing after the ball.

MJ: "Did ya just sniff the fuckin' air?"

Pete: "Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "I do that now. I also scratch my back on trees."

MJ: "Like, in both forms?"

Pete: "Nah, tree bark hurts in human form. I use door frames in human form."

MJ: "My fuckin' god, dude. How do they feel? Morphin'."

Pete: "Like becoming a human rubik's cube, or clay. I don't know what giving birth is like but I imagine it's kind of like that."

MJ: "Hurts like bein' squeezed outta a three-inch tube, or does it feel good... eventually?"

Pete: "A three-inch tube, yes, that's exactly it. But when it's done, there's just relief. Which is how my sister described childbirth."

MJ: "Yeah, some chemical shit makes ya forget." His smile reignited. "Childbirth. That's funny as shit. Givin' birth to yourself, I guess."

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed. "Yep, that's me. Giving birth to myself once a month."

Abel ran back towards them, ball in mouth.

MJ: "Toss it for him. He's really a dog like this."

Pete/Abel: "It's like when I'm a bear." Pete took the ball from Abel and tossed it, chuckling as the dog went racing after it again.

MJ: "Ya completely gone under the fur?"

Pete: He shook his head. "Not completely. The first few times I blacked out but now I'm fairly aware when I transform."

MJ: "But I mean, ya have... a bear brain, I guess?"

Pete: "Yep, along with everything else. I'm exhausted the whole winter, eat a ton leading up to it. And I now have actual chest hair."

MJ: "I dunno how to ask; my rats have linear thoughts n'great memory. Super simple. S'what I me - wait what?"

Pete: "Chest hair. I've got some now. A good bit actually, teenage me would be thrilled."

MJ: "Lemme see."

Pete: Pete tugged down the collar of his shirt just enough to expose some of his new crop of chest hair. It wasn't at the most extreme end of the hairy chest spectrum but it held its own.

MJ: "Shit, ya got more than me now," he laughed.

Pete/Abel: "It's them bear genes," Pete said with a grin.

And once more out of the darkness came Abel. It was MJ's turn to toss the tennis ball and the familiar showed no signs of getting tired. It had been a while since he'd played fetch.

MJ: The ball was taken and bounced between hands. He threw! but no he didn't. The ball held behind his back.

"I think about... things we didn't do."

Pete/Abel: "You mean other than playing fetch with a magical dog?"

Abel fell for it. Completely. His current doggie brain didn't realize MJ hadn't thrown the ball until he got about 20 feet ahead of them.

MJ: "Wow that really works." The ball was thrown in truth down their path.

He waited for those ears to get far enough away.

"People assume shit, with how I look. Big dudes like big dude things."

Pete: Ah. Those things. A sudden vision of the dream he was convinced he'd shared with MJ came into his head.

"Yeah. I'm familiar with that particular assumption. I made it of you, didn't I?"

MJ: "Don't blame ya. I didn't open my fuckin' mouth."

Pete: "I didn't ask and I should've. That was an important conversation to have."

MJ: "We talk with our bodies. I gave ya all sorts of conversation. I loved all of it. I'm also a liar."

Pete: "There was plenty to love. And for the record? Makes no difference to me."

MJ: "You're a fuckin' bottom if there ever was one," MJ grinned.

Pete: Pete laughed. "Can't argue with that, I guess. But I've flipped that coin before. I am technically bi, you know."

MJ: "So am I. Most people are, they just don't say shit. S'what I think."

Pete: “Yeah, maybe. Point is, I have no objection or...aversion to coin flipping.”

MJ: "I guess I don't, but like, m'still dead."

Pete: "And I'm a forest creature."

MJ: "Ya don't cum blood."

Pete: “We can’t help what form our bodily fluids come in.”

MJ: Peter was given a look. A long stare of scrutiny as they walked.

Pete: He just gave MJ an earnest smile and took his turn throwing the ball when Abel came back with it.

"I've had a lot of time to think about it."

MJ: "About my bodily fluids?"

Pete: "About all of it. Conversations, feelings, everything."

MJ: "Wanna spill?"

Pete: "Told you about that dream I had, right? About us?"

MJ: That had been one hell of a night. He squinted in the darkness. "Sounds... familiar."

Pete: "Well, we were in this dream version of my living room or somewhere and we were...like we used to be. You were in my lap and it felt so normal and we had one of those silent body conversations and it was so clear that...well, that the coin should've been flipped. I don't know how I didn't see it."

MJ: "Didn't want ya to, I guess." Abel was lifted under his arm, tennis ball bounced for the sake of teasing.

"Breakin' our rules left n'right."

Pete/Abel: Abel made a couple of half-hearted attempts to snatch the ball but all that running had worn him out. Better to catch his breath.

Pete smiled. "Yeah, we are. I should be asking how the cross-country drive was."

MJ: "About as fun as roamin' France, probably."

Pete: “Did ya’ll do a straight shot on highways only or have a proper road trip?”

MJ: "Dirt roads. Largest ball of yarn, corn fields in Nebraska, that kinda thing. Walked the streets of Chicago. Met a girl." He swiveled his hand. "Long trip here."

Pete: Mention of a girl would be ignored. For now. "Sounds like it. You know there's cryptids in those cornfields. My grandpa used to tell us stories about them."

MJ: "Nothin' surprises me anymore. Not about what exists. Tell me ya got abducted by aliens, maybe that'll get me."

Pete: “Not me, but by all accounts Grandpop Hiram did.”

MJ: MJ slowly turned his head to face his old boyfriend.

Pete: “No shit,” he chuckled. “He told me, right hand to god, that he got abducted while driving down a country road in the middle of the night and they didn’t return him until the next morning.”

MJ: "Now that'll take me a minute. Coulda been a fake memory."

Pete: "It could've, except that he didn't get returned in the same place. He woke up on his front lawn, truck nowhere to be found. The old sheriff found it abandoned in the middle of the road, keys still in it and everything, except no Hiram. Luke and I asked Peabody to see if there was still a report on file and there was, just like grandpop said. Abandoned truck in the middle of the road, lights still on, keys in the ignition."

MJ: "N'he don't remember jack shit? 'Sides bein' taken." A vampire, and even he felt that sting of doubt. Like what he imagined delirium to be like for kine.

Pete: "No, he did. He remembered laying on a cold surface and bright lights and shadowy figures standing over him."

MJ: "Ah. See, nah. That's too 50s."

Pete: "It was in the 50s."

MJ: "See?! No way, man. He's why we got movies like Close Encounters."

Pete: “Orrrrrr there just isn’t that much variation to how alien surgery is performed. Anyway, grandpop had that thing where his eyes were different colors and he said that after that incident, the colors were switched.”

MJ: "Heterochromia," a word smooth from his tongue, of course, having such eyes, though not quite the same.

"I don't think a little green man is gonna travel lifetime after lifetime after lifetime just to poke some flesh n'set it free."

Pete/Abel: "Yes, that word. And judging from what everyone says, that's exactly what the little green men do. Right, Abel? Back me up."

Abel barked once before thinking, 'Yeah, he's totally right,' to MJ.

MJ: "Ya ain't seen no goddamn aliens, Abe."

Abel: 'Hey, I could've seen aliens, you don't know. We spent a long time in Nebraska with Kenny the homeless guy. Ooh! I bet Kenny's seen aliens.'

MJ: "Of course Kenny's seen aliens. Guy had a mullet n'worked with corn in the 70s."

Pete: "Who's Kenny?" asked Pete.

MJ: "Some homeless dude we met in Nebraska. Had a thousand tales. Probably half true."

Pete/Abel: "And Kenny has a mullet, worked with corn, and has seen aliens, huh?"

'If anyone has, it's definitely--wait he can't hear me. MJ, if I switch back so I can talk will you still carry me?'

MJ: "Sure, piggy-back." Abel was placed on the ground between their feet.

"Yeah, all that Kenny stuff."

Pete/Abel: Once on the ground again, Abel gave himself a good shake and switched back to his human form, which was a far more streamlined process than Pete was used to. And Abel even got to keep his clothes on.

"Hi again!" the familiar said brightly. "Up, please!"

MJ: MJ bent his knee, waiting for that familiar weight of the familiar before returning to pace. This was completely normal.

"So yeah, Nebraska."

Pete/Abel: “Sounds like a hoot,” said Pete, smiling as Abel scrambled up on MJ’s back and clung to him like a koala. “Were any of Kenny’s maybe true stories about aliens?”

Abel shook his head. “No but he had a lot to say about drones and the pesticides they use on the corn.”

MJ: "He was on the same tree, not the right branch. Ya believe that shit?"

Pete: “The drones or the pesticides?”

MJ: "Both."

Pete: “The pesticides are fact. The drones, I’m not so sure. At least on a Big Brother kind of level. All those YouTube kids have drones.”

MJ: "If I had it my way there'd be no security cameras ever, but I'm fuckin' biased, and kinda fuckin' dead."

Pete: “I don’t think there’s any escaping them now. You can escape the YouTube kids though.”

MJ: "Gets easier n'harder at the same time."

Pete: “That’s progress, I guess. Keep an eye out for a rock with a turtle painted on it.”

MJ: "This metaphorical or literal?"

Pete: “Literal. It’s the marker for where the two-headed turtle lives.”

MJ: "The fuck are we doin' again? The beach?"

Pete: “Yes, and we’re also visiting the two-headed turtle.”

MJ: "Alright. Two-headed turtle it is. Wanna see a two-headed turtle, Abe?"

Abel: “Do you even have to ask? I’d go anywhere to see a turtle, especially if it has two heads.”

MJ: "I sure love not bein' the only weirdo."

Abel: “Turtles aren’t weird!”

MJ: "No. They're slow speech and wise. You. You're weird."

Abel: “For loving turtles?” Abel scoffed. “Nuh-uh. You’re weird, you like cowboy music.”

MJ: "What's wrong with Garth Brooks?"

Abel: “All his songs sound the same.”

MJ: "N'Reba?"

Abel: “Isn’t that a sitcom?”

MJ: "I'mma drop your ass."

Abel: Abel laughed. “You wouldn’t, Pete would think you’re a meanie.”

MJ: "I am a meanie. How d'ya not know Fancy? Or uh, The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia?"

Abel: “And here I thought Fallout Boy had long song titles. Why is all country music about the south? The north has countryside and cows too.”

MJ: "Folk, bluegrass, country, southern rock, country rock, hillbilly, blues, bluegrass; s'all countryside."

Abel: “Aren’t you Hungarian? How does a nice Hungarian boy develop a taste for the banjo and ballads about trucks?”

MJ: "I was born here, believe it or not. My old man just happens t'like that shit."

Pete/Abel: “Ah, well, we all need a guilty pleasure. Right, Pete?”

Pete smiled and nodded. “Right. Also we’ve arrived.” He pointed at a rock with a turtle painted on it. “Callum warded his home so some piece of shit kid didn’t kill it or kidnap it.”

MJ: "How's that work? Kill the kid instead?"

Pete: “What, no. It just keeps them from getting too close. He read a story about some little assholes killing a swan’s babies and it upset him so much he started warding every nest he found.”

MJ: "Ol' Callum's magic. Ya might like em, Abe. I see X in him. They'd hate each other or love each other."

The familiar was placed back on his own feet.

"N'I'm more than just Hungarian. Ya know that."

Pete/Abel: “They’ve met,” Pete sighed. “Cal’s not a fan.”

“He’s not alone in that.” Abel stretched. “Xavier is an acquired taste. Like kombucha.”

MJ: "See? Love or hate. Here's my thing: they're alike. Can't tell ya how. I ain't that articulate. They just are."

Pete: “Well, whatever you do, don’t ever say that to Callum,” Pete chuckled. “Have you talked to him since you’ve been here?”

MJ: "Have I?" He looked to Abel and laughed.

Abel: Abel grinned. “Xavier? He pops into our heads every now and then. Or to the RV. I think he misses us.”

MJ: "Think he means Cal."

Abel: “Oh! Yeah you definitely have. I haven’t.”

MJ: "Yeah, see. Definitely have."

Pete: “How did it go?” asked Pete.

MJ: "M'still alive. Hallelujah," MJ smiled.

Pete: Pete smiled back. “Yes you are. And he didn’t chase you around with a broom or sic the dog on you?”

MJ: "Not tonight. Maybe later. I'd probably deserve it."

Pete: He shook his head. “No, you don’t. He knows that, deep down.”

MJ: "Sure." His go-to when he had nothing to add, he realized. Wondered if that had always been the case, and too lazy to change it.

Pete/Abel: Pete just smiled and led MJ and Abel over to where the turtle liked to spend its time.

Sure enough, at their approach, two little heads poked out from the brush.

“Turtles!” Abel went in for a closer look, crouching so he was closer to the turtles’ level.

MJ: "Are they sayin' anything, Abe? They some hive mind, or they hate each other?"

MJ took to crouching by the familiar's side.

Abel: “I dunno, I can’t talk to them without that spell. Maybe you can talk to them.” He wasn’t sure if turtles greeted by sniffing but he offered them a finger anyway. “Hey there little guys!”

MJ: He'd take to the ground, then, chin against folded arms. Did turtles even make sounds? He waited patiently for eye contact, his only means of establishing a connection.

"Hey there, uglies."

Pete/Abel: “MJ!” Abel and Pete said in unison.

Being closer, Abel would be the one to give his friend a light smack on the shoulder. “Don’t be rude. They’re so cute! Don’t listen to him, fellas. You’re fantastic.”

One the heads seemed determined to stare anywhere but at the two beings before it. The other showed a bit more interest.

MJ: "I bet ya want your own body, huh?" Only one mind to speak with. Interested in all things. This existence was the only existence; he couldn't miss what he'd never had. Not the way humans lamented. His brother, not so much. More aware, perhaps.

"Y'all hungry?"

Pete: “I take it you mean the turtles,” said Pete, looking around for something the little reptiles could eat. “Ask them if they like snails and worms.”

MJ: "Can't go wrong with strawberries. Abe, got any? Or some snail 'bout to meet their end?"

Pete/Abel: “On me? Nope. There miiiight be some in the fridge? Can’t say what state they’re in though.”

Pete, meanwhile, was already on a snail and worm hunt. He couldn’t hear them in his human form as well as he could in his bear form but he liked to think he could a little bit. At least we’ll enough to find a snack for a two-headed turtle.

MJ: "What ya think, uglies?" They couldn't argue; this was free food either way.

Meanwhile, MJ would lay on his stomach in front of them, having their own private conversation.

Abel: Another smack to the shoulder courtesy of Abel. “They’re not ugly! Think of a cuter nickname for them. They’re special, they need a cute nickname.”

MJ: "What's wrong with bein' ugly?!"

Pete: “Absolutely nothing but they’re not ugly, they’re adorable. Ask them what their names are.”

MJ: "Fine! Fine." He searched for the brother's eyes, urging contact and a conversation to follow.

"They ain't got names. Most things don't. Just feelin. Like... this one's left n'this one's right. My other half, kinda thing. Alright. Larry n'Todd."

Pete/Abel: Abel’s face lit up. “Perfect! Larry and Todd, I love it. They look like a Larry and a Todd.”

“Soup’s on.” Pete returned with a couple of slugs and a worm.

MJ: "Hey, that is inappropriate wordin' 'round turtles."

Pete/Abel: “Oop, you’re right. Sorry, boys.”

“Larry and Todd!” Abel said cheerfully.

“Ah. Sorry, Larry and Todd.” He placed a slug in front of each head.

MJ: "I think they share a stomach. We'll find out in a minute." And away they went, chowing down on their little feast in what shadow they could find.

Pete: “They probably do since they share all their other parts. I think. They’re the only two-headed anything I’ve ever seen.” Pete offered the worm as well and left the little turtles to eat.

MJ: "Some share the same brain. Saw it on YouTube. Mama would show a picture to one head n'the other would know the color."

Pete: “That’s incredible. Must be difficult to adjust to life attached to another person but when it works, it’s incredible. I’m guessing they weren’t able to safely separate the people in the video?”

MJ: "Hell no. Same brain! Or part of brain, but yeah. Like those guys from the Circus way back when. Just an inch of skin kept em together, but they shared a liver."

Pete: “Oh! Um...dangit what were their names...Chang and Eng!”

MJ: "There's a reason I love ya."

Pete: Pete tried and failed to hide his smile. “My recall ability for names?”

MJ: "Ya know your freaks."

Pete: “I do what I can. Didn’t Chang and Eng have like a dozen kids?”

MJ: "Think so, yeah. Ain't gonna let an inch of skin stop em."

Pete: “An inch of skin and a liver.” He shook his head in awe. “Fucking incredible. I wonder if being conjoined gave them any abilities. Seems like the kinda thing that would.”

MJ: "Abilities? What, like you?"

Pete: “Not necessarily. Something non-Fera related. Something...I don’t know, magical. Possibly psychic.”

MJ: "Ya got an imagination on ya. That's for sure."

Pete: “I blame Graham’s books,” he chuckled. “Been reading a lot of them.”

MJ: "Graham?"

Pete: “My nephew.”

MJ: "Ah. Graham Graham. Of course."

Pete: “Yeah. He loves him a bedtime story. Can’t tell you how many times we’ve read Alice in Wonderland.”

MJ: "Ya know, I get I fit the description of people that'd like it, but nah."

Pete: “Mad hatters and hares and magic potions not your thing?”

MJ: "Vampire ruined it for me."

Pete: “First time Stella read it to Graham he painted all their roses red. She was horrified, Callum was tickled pink.”

MJ: "Ha." Reminded him of Brett. Left a taste in his mouth.

"What cha wanna do now?"

Pete: “I picked the walk and the turtle. Your turn. Or Abel’s if he wants to take one.”

MJ: "What cha wanna do, Abe?"

Abel: “Hmmm....” Abel thought for a moment. “I need a snack. And a cherry coke. And possibly some rainbow sherbet.”

MJ: "So we raid the Walmart?"

Abel: “Yes!” Abel said brightly. “I love Walmart!”

MJ: "That's about the most trash thing ya ever said. Don't ever let X hear ya say that."

Abel: “He loves Walmart, too, he owns a crap ton of stock.”

MJ: "That ain't the same as love. Trust me."

Abel: “Walmart keeps our Xavier in the Armani suits and it keeps us in cherry coke and rainbow sherbet. And chips.”

MJ: That reminded him, he should check on his own stock before sunrise. Another one of X's bits of advice. Same as his father. A truck driver with more stock than he knew what to do with. He wondered how his old man was.

"Walmart can keep ya in the chips without the stock, I promise ya that."

Abel: “Yeah, you’re probably right. This whole country loves it. So are we going?”

MJ: You have no idea what I mean and that's cute.

"Yeppers." He looked to Peter with a smile. "Comin'?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. “Sure! I could go for a cherry coke. How are we getting there?”

MJ: "I dunno how to fly a broom yet, so..."

Abel: “I can take us!” Abel piped in. “I already know where it is, I saw it one day when I was exploring. Everyone take a hand.”

MJ: "Careful with Peter; he's a delicate honey bear."

Pete: “I’ve teleported before,” Pete said as he took Abel’s hand. “Feels like getting squeezed through a straw on a tilt-a-whirl.”

MJ: "More druid stuff?"

Pete: “Another familiar.”

MJ: "How many familiars ya know?"

Pete: “Just one other. Callum’s cousin has one.”

MJ: "Huh." Abel's hand was given a squeeze. "So why ain't Callum got - why were ya flyin' around?"

Pete/Abel: “I needed to take a trip to New Orleans to visit someone.”

Abel squeezed both their hands. “Okay, you two, enough chit chat. I need sherbet! Ready?”

MJ: "Ready." He wasn't taking his breath. What would be the point? "What friend in - I didn't know ya had people there."

Pete/Abel: “Ready,” Pete echoed.

“All rightie. MJ, hold that thought. Petey, deep breath.” Abel held their hands to his chest and transported them across town to the Walmart. This time of night, there would be no one around to notice three men appearing out of thin air.

MJ: Still, MJ looked around. A hand came to rest on Peter's chest as though to steady him.

"Gonna puke?"

Pete: Pete, whose eyes were squeezed shut, held up a finger. He was trying to take deep even breaths to settle his body.

MJ: "Boy I'm sure glad I don't have to deal with that shit." Abel was given an appreciative smack to his shoulder.

"A trucker's feast, huh? Let's get ya some chips."

Pete/Abel: A few more moments and Pete finally opened his eyes.

“All right, I’m good. Let’s get junk food.”

Abel didn’t have to be told twice. He practically skipped into the store and led them first to the frozen section for sherbet.

MJ: MJ waited for Peter to fall into step with. His arm draped over his wide shoulders and squeezed.

"So back to New Orleans. Talk."

Pete: “Oh, right. Well, I don’t exactly have family there. Callum’s cousin is there and she’s my friend but mostly I went to visit the grave of my previous incarnation. Clarke.”

MJ: "Goddamn every single time ya speak ya got some sorta life changin' adventure. What the fuck did ya just say to me?"

Pete: Pete couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess I do, huh? I found my previous incarnation in Paris. In a photo, obviously, not in person.”

MJ: "How did ya chain them events together?"

Pete: “I didn’t at first. Took a few weeks before the chaining really got going.”

MJ: "Gonna explain in detail?"

Pete: “I don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know this is the kinda thing no one but me cares about.”

MJ: "I mean, sure. I'm more curious 'bout how ya found it. Sounds like a huge coincidence."

Pete: “It kinda was. Coincidence or fate, if you wanna look at it that way. I was in the exact right place at the exact right time. Walked by a frame shop right as the owner was placing a frame with his photo in the window.”

MJ: MJ looked ahead for Abel, stumbled a bit on his own feet, pushing into Peter. "And ya knew who it was?"

Pete: Pete immediately reached out to steady him. “Not then. All I knew was that something about the photo struck a chord and drew me in. So I bought it and after asking the owner if she had more photos of him, I bought those too.”

MJ: "Why she have a bunch of old photos? People buy that shit?" His mouth bunched to one side. "I dunno 'bout fate. Just seems too specific." He shrugged. "Anyway go on."

Pete: “It was a frame shop, she has a lot of random photos. She thought it was a shame for them to be in a box somewhere so she used them for her displays. She knew him, you see. Her brother had taken the photographs and she’d gotten them after he passed.”

MJ: MJ's brows began to knit. "Fuckin' how old was your past self? When was this shit?"

Pete: “Clarke died in 1981. He was thirty-one.”

MJ: "...Well, ya lived longer this time."

Pete: Pete nodded. “Yeah. Feel some kinda way about that.”

MJ: "What, worry or somethin'?"

Pete: “He was too damn young to die.”

MJ: Peter guided them for a row of bagged chips and processed dips, jerkies and candy bars, while MJ stared at him.

Pete: He forced a smile and brought himself back to the moment.

“Yeah, so. That’s how I found my reincarnation.”

MJ: "You're one of them people that loves themself."

Pete: “Not in a romantic way. Or a ‘gee, I’m so great’ way. Finding him was like finding a friend I’d lost. Made me feel less lonely.”

MJ: "I think I know what ya mean, but," he shrugged. "Guess I'd have to meet a me to know. That me don't exist."

Pete: “Reading his journals is the closest I’ll get to meeting him.”

MJ: "Maybe not. There's magick for everything. Depends what you're willin' to pay."

Pete: He shook his head. “This is the way it is. He died and now I’m here and someday I’ll go and there will be another link in the chain. Journals and some memories are more than so many people get of their past lives.”

MJ: "So, what, ya gonna start writin' journals for your future self?"

Pete: “I already have.”

MJ: MJ looked around for Abel. Nodded to him. "What ya think of that? Would ya love yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel had found a basket and was already busy filling it with gloriously unhealthy things.

“If I was a decent person then sure, I don’t see why not,” he said with a nod and a shrug. “Pete’s right, most people don’t get to learn about their past incarnations. It’s rare.”

MJ: "Fuckin' 'if'? You're an 'if'?" He laughed. Abel was about as chaotic as himself, but the admission, intentional or otherwise, tickled him.

"Ya 'bout done?"

Abel: “Hey, you never know. Past me could’ve been a dick.”

Abel looked down at his basket. “Just about. Still need cherry coke.”

MJ: "Next aisle." Memory from his previous employment. Felt like yesterday since he'd worn that stupid fucking vest.

Better to work for and with Xavier. For himself.

"Why ya feel like ya needed him? You're him. Was it like... findin' yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel moved away under the pretext of the soda and left them to talk.

Pete sighed. “I was going through a rough time when I learned about Clarke. Couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, felt the worst about myself that I ever have. He gave me hope. Comfort.”

MJ: "Rough because of that night?"

Pete: “It was a lot of things. Too many things all at once.”

MJ: "Sounds too easy."

Pete: “What does?”

MJ: "That answer. I dunno. Don't really like vague answers with close people. Strangers, not close."

Pete: “Well, that night happened. My dad nearly died. Found out he wasn’t really my dad after I tried to donate blood to keep him from dying. Had my private business out in the open for several weeks and was constantly bombarded with it. That specific enough?”

MJ: MJ watched, patiently. "Ya angry?"

Pete: Pete sighed. “No. But me saying it was a lot of things all at once wasn’t a cop-out. It’s me not wanting to give that whole spill of misery.”

MJ: "S'misery I wanna hear. S'misery I helped make. S'you. Talk for hours. Yell for hours. I don't give a fuck. It's you."

Pete: He didn’t quite know how to feel about that. There weren’t many people in his life that had ever given him carte blanche to yell or express his feelings with abandon. It was as foreign as it was touching.

“...Thanks. Walmart probably isn’t the ideal place for that kind of conversation though. Suffice it to say, I was having a really shitty time mentally and emotionally and learning about Clarke made it less shitty.”

MJ: "Ah shit, we've heard worse here. We're like Olive Garden. 'When you're here, your family.' N'shit."

MJ bumped into Peter's shoulder again. Something to pull him away. He stretched his shoulders and looked around the neighboring aisle for the familiar.

"Wanna see somethin'?"

Pete: “I’m positive that’s true but the aforementioned having my private business out there situation has made me a little more careful with where I have those conversations.”

Pete smiled and pointed out Abel, who’d made his way to the cracker aisle. “Sure. What kinda something?”

MJ: "Somethin' fun. Learned t'fuck with Abel over the years." Years. He'd never said that out loud before. What had been of their relationship was a toddler's age. People changed. His transformation was not much different than the man beside him. A beast in a man. A beast of a man.

"Watch him." A laser line of red whizzed past Abel's feet and over the nearby box of Ritz. The line returned from under the shelving and split off into three.

Abel: Abel, blissfully unaware of MJ's schemes, was on a single-minded hunt for Goldfish.

Well. Relatively single-minded was probably more accurate, because the sudden appearance of red light had his attention immediately. No matter how many times this gag was pulled on him, it was impossible to resist. He had to find and hunt down the lasers!

MJ: MJ bit against his cheek, helping conceal his laughter all of three seconds before bursting with a pfft and a snort.

Pete: Pete wasn't far behind; it was impossible not to laugh. "He really is a dog, isn't he?"

MJ: "Yep. Down to wantin' scratches behind his ear n'his leg kickin'."

The red lasers disappeared under the fat dairy fridges.

Pete/Abel: "Is he allergic to chocolate too? Or does his having a human form cancel that out?" He shook his head. "The whole having a human and animal form thing is still new to me. Not looking forward to being exhausted all winter."

Abel was helpless to follow the lasers as far as he could. It was a good thing the store was deserted this time of night because a grown man peering under the fridges definitely would've raised some questions.

MJ: The camera was brought out. Making a short video for the Atlas staff and family to enjoy. Priceless.

"Abe! Have I seen ya eat chocolate 'fore?"

Abel: Abel looked up like he'd been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "Huh? Chocolate--what?"

MJ: "Will it kill ya?"

Abel: "Chocolate? Only in dog form."

MJ: "Well, there ya go. Let's get a chocolate pretzel. Lemme live vicariously."

Pete/Abel: “Okay!” He took one last look under the fridges—just in case—and got to his feet. “They’re usually with the candy and nuts.”

“They are,” Pete confirmed.

MJ: Peter's shoulder was given a gentle nudge. "Ya gettin' somethin'?"

Pete/Abel: “My cherry coke aaaaand....Goldfish. And hot fries.”

“I got us Goldfish!” Abel called over his shoulder. “Knew you seemed like a Goldfish kinda guy.”

MJ: "The fuck are hot fries?"

Pete: "The far superior sibling of hot cheetos."

MJ: "I... was a cheese puffs kid. Nah. Take that back. Bugles."

Pete: "Well then let's find some Bugles so you can live even more vicariously."

MJ: "I already up chucked once tonight."

Pete: "Once is enough. I'll bravely eat them for you."

MJ: "Smellin' em is enough. I need candles of my old faves."

Pete: "I know someone who makes candles, if that's a serious request. I'm sure she could do something."

MJ: "She make candles smell like root beer and Bugles?"

Pete: "I don't think anyone's ever made a Bugle candle, but if anyone can, it's her."

MJ: "Druid?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. Callum's cousin Bronwyn. She owns a shop, sells candles and trinkets and witchy things."

MJ: "For real witchy or tourist witchy?"

Pete: "Tourist witchy on the surface, real witchy if you know what to look for. Gotta fly under the radar."

MJ: "Wanna take a look at that later, Abe?"

Abel: "Yeah!" As their snack haul had officially outgrown their basket, Abel divided the overflow between MJ and Pete's arms. "Did you want vicarious root beer, too, MJ? Or just the Bugles?"

MJ: "I can swish that shit and spit it out. Let's just go with Bugles."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Yeah, you definitely need a root beer candle. That's just wrong."

MJ: "What's wrong is that leech in Chicago chewin' tobacco."

Abel: "Ugh, god, the spitting can. Why not just vape like everyone else?"

MJ: "I love that you're offended."

Abel: "Spitting. Can. Spitting can, MJ."

MJ: "Angry puppers."

Abel: "I'd rather have to breathe in a cloud of cigarette reek than watch a grown ass man with ugly teeth spit into a Budweiser can."

MJ: "Have ya seen them motherfuckers vapin'? The look on their fuckin' millennial-Z faces?"

Abel: "At least they're not spitting into cans. I'll take them over that."

MJ: "Tryin'a think of worse. Can't think of anything but them people that ate mummies."

Pete: "Okay, all right, enough spit and mummies," said Pete, making a face himself. "Only snack talk allowed. Let's go get the cokes."

MJ: "But mummies were snacks," MJ grinned.

Pete: "Not for us, they're not."

MJ: "Bet Guildias did it once."

Pete: "Now you're just being a troll."

MJ: "What? Think he wouldn't?"

Abel: "Moratorium on mummies, please," said Abel. "We're having such a nice day, I'd rather not have any more cursed images in my head."

MJ: "Any more? What else ya got in there?"

Abel: "Spitting. Can."

MJ: "In all your forty years, that's the worst?"

Abel: "It's up there."

MJ: "What's the worst?"

Abel: "Very drunk middle-aged lady answering the call of nature in a very gross men's bathroom in Berlin. Except she wasn't using the toilet."

MJ: "How d'ya find this shit?" A certain word in that question had him biting his cheeks.

Abel: “Xavier was meeting a guy about a certain cursed artifact.” That last said in a whisper.

MJ: "Hope it wasn't her."

Abel: “God, no. She just happened to be there at the same time.��

MJ: "I think Peter needs a dangerous night with us. Soon."

Pete: "What does a dangerous night with the two of you entail?" Pete asked, squinting.

MJ: "Goin' wherever we want, take whatever we want. Robin Hood or Punisher."

Pete: "Sounds like a barrel of laughs. I'm sure the two of you don't want a wet blanket like me tagging along."

MJ: "What would a wet blanket do?"

Pete: "Request that you don't take whatever you want because...the law."

MJ: "Did ya forget ya dated a thief?"

Pete: "No, I didn't forget. I also never went with you, or I would've requested that you don't take whatever you want because the law."

MJ: "Just a paladin ya are."

Pete: "A what now?"

MJ: Peter was given a look.

Pete: "What?"

MJ: "Ya hang with druids... and don't know what word?"

Pete: "Can't remember hearing it from them. This something that I should add to my notebook?"

MJ: "I mean, I got it from a video game."

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Video games use real things all the time, they just don't know it. Maybe some do."

MJ: "Ya seriously never heard the word 'paladin'?"

Pete: He shook his head. "I don't think so, no. What does it mean?"

MJ: "Ya know, the heroic knight that doesn't budge from his noble cause!"

Pete: "Ah, so the modern-day wet blanket," he chuckled.

MJ: The smile MJ gave was private. Something for the two of them as they lagged behind.

"Ya just ain't punk anymore. That I see. Prove me wrong."

Pete: Pete snorted. "Was I ever punk? Doubt it."

MJ: "Of course ya were. Ya punched people out. Ya shouted. Ya locked me out the bar with fuckin' garlic. We made scenes in the bar with Budweiser n'lil umbrellas."

Pete: "Every single one of the people I punched had it coming." He smiled. "Locking you out with garlic counts as punk?"

MJ: "About the most punk bitch thing ya did to me."

Pete: Pete laughed. "I ever tell you Peabody sat me down and lectured me about how I handle trouble at the pub? I tell you, if he ever has kids, his dad voice is gonna be legendary."

MJ: "Didn't think he'd give a shit."

Pete: "Only when the people I punched went to tell on me."

MJ: "So what he say?"

Pete: "Don't break the tourists, use your words, did I wanna get sued, stop making paperwork for him."

MJ: "Fuckin' pussies," he muttered under his breath.

Pete: “Some people have no business drinking in public. Or even being in public.”

MJ: "Some people don't deserve the things they got. S'what I'm for," he smiled.

Pete: Pete chuckled. "The vampiric Robin Hood, dispensing karma to the arrogant."

MJ: "Goddamn right."

Pete: "What is your latest heroic act, Robin Hood?"

MJ: "Heroic?" MJ glanced to Abel.

Pete: Pete grinned. “Robin Hood was a hero, kinda. Depending on who you ask.”

MJ: "Still give t'Kenna. Gave to a uh, no-kill shelter. Well, Abe gave to em. Daylight hours."

Pete: “Both worthy causes,” he said with a nod.

MJ: "I don't even remember mentionin' her."

Pete/Abel: "It was a long, long time ago."

Abel, for his part, was busy grinning to himself and picking up any snacks that seemed interesting as they walked. This had been such a good idea, they were going to eat great. Not healthy at all, but great.

"Are we ready to check out?" he asked them. "Do we need anything at home?"

MJ: "Uh, nah. I don't need... anything." Still trying to remember his mention of his sister, as well as a sudden urge to extract that information from Peter. The not knowing suddenly mattered. Ah. Of course. He understood now.

"What I say about her?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Just that you had a sister and that her name was Kenna, like Callum's aunt. Nothing beyond that. You really don't remember?"

MJ: "Nah. My memory ain't that perfect. I remember every time we swam, though."

Pete: He ducked his head and smiled. "Yeah, I remember that, too. I'm an even better swimmer now. Good fisher too."

MJ: "Better fuckin' be. Ya got no excuses now," he smiled.

The cashier lady was someone new. Another little reminder of how long it had been since working here. Never again.

Cash was pulled from pocket, intent on paying for both.

Pete/Abel: Abel gently smacked MJ's hand away. "No no no, put that back where it came from. I got this."

Pete's hand would be given similar treatment when it ventured to reach for his wallet.

MJ: "The fuck ya smackin' me for? It all comes from the same place!"

Abel: "It's the principle!" He pulled out his shiny new credit card and put it in the chip reader before he could be stopped.

MJ: "Cards. Pfft." Abel's hair was given a rough tangling.

Abel: "Heyyyyy!" Abel tried and failed to squirm away. "X said we have to use it every now and then."

MJ: "S'how he keeps tabs on ya."

Abel: "He can do that anyway."

MJ: "The man doesn't put all his eggs in one basket."

Abel: "He has a zillion baskets. Thanks!" he added to the cashier, taking the card back and splitting the shopping bags between the three of them.

MJ: MJ looked into his appointed bag and frowned. "Food don't smell the same. Don't taste the same. I don't wanna look at gazpacho n'grilled cheese again. It'll be fucked."

Abel: Abel patted MJ’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t let those get ruined for you.”

MJ: The vampire scoffed. "Least X don't like paella. Ain't had that fucked."

Abel: “Nope, he’s a fancy ham kinda guy. We’re not though! Where are we going to eat our feast of champions?”

MJ: "I know some docks we can borrow." Seemed too late at night for a certain someone to be awake.

Abel: “Cool. Think of the place, everyone grab an arm.”

MJ: MJ linked an arm with Peter's. He was warm tonight, as though recently fed.

What he had in mind was Callum MacGillivray's dock. Private enough, with the exception of a druid that might or might not be home. Might or might not be asleep. More besides, Peter could feel safe here, as a kind of home turf.

Pete: It didn't go unnoticed by Pete. For a brief moment, he forgot entirely that MJ was a vampire and attributed his warmth simply to him.

Letting MJ guide him, Abel transported them to what he'd initially thought was one of the docks by all the other docks, but this looked like someone liv--

"Callum's house?" Pete asked once they'd arrived and he managed to open his eyes.

MJ: "What he won't know what hurt him." MJ winked, heading out to the very edge of the dock.

Pete: Pete chuckled and shook his head. “He’s asleep anyway. Always goes to bed early when he’s working on an event.”

MJ: "What's the event now?"

Pete: "Some charity dinner thing."

MJ: Away with the black sneakers, removed with his feet as he walked, left behind as he reached the edge and took a seat.

"Some charity thing ya believe in?"

Pete: "I don't even remember what it is. I wanna say it was something school related? Or maybe book related?"

He joined MJ and began looking through the bags for his hot fries.

MJ: Away with the leather jacket. March be damned, he was preparing for a swim. Socks followed, tossed over his shoulder.

"They do that winter gala thing this year?"

Pete: "They did, yeah," Pete opened his bag of chips and took a handful. "It was a big hit as usual."

MJ: "They need, like, a summer cocktail party... thing."

Pete: "There's the fireworks and stuff for the Fourth of July."

MJ: "Not the same as a little black dress."

Abel: "A little black dress goes against the spirit of summer!" Abel said around a huge mouthful of rainbow sherbet.

MJ: "A red, white, n'blue dress with bitchin' heels."

Pete/Abel: "They can throw a beach party for the Fourth of July!"

"They kinda do," said Pete.

MJ: "I just got put into a suit. Chicago. I actually have a suit now."

Pete: Pete grinned. "Yeah? Can't picture you in a suit."

MJ: "Looks like I'm goin' to a funeral."

Abel: "It does not! Don't let him fool you, Pete." Abel gestured with his plastic spoon. "He looks all respectable like."

MJ: "I didn't even try! Just let X pick it out."

Abel: "You let the man with a closet full of fancy bespoke suits pick a suit for you." He gestured again. "You were going to look fancy and respectable no matter what."

MJ: "Still ready for a funeral. Didn't even wear the tie."

Away with the shirt, now.

Abel: "The tie makes you look like an investment banker," Abel giggled. "Or a hedge fund manager."

MJ: "Don't put that shit on me. Just cause I got money don't mean I gotta dress like the dead."

Abel: "Investment bankers and hedge fund managers are alive!"

MJ: "Not on the inside. Their blood is shit, too."

Pete: "Have you ever fed from one?" Pete asked.

MJ: "Just one. Before Edenton."

Pete: "And they tasted....bad?"

MJ: A nod. "He was also fat, and I couldn't find a vein for shit. She had to do it."

Abel: Abel took another enormous bite of ice cream. "Stick to the athletes, man. Gotta get your vitamins."

MJ: "Vitamins and veins." With that in mind, a backwards fall into the quiet water.

Pete: Pete glanced back toward the house, half expecting Callum to have sensed their presence and woken up.

There was no need for concern; the windows remained dark.

"How's the water?" he asked.

MJ: Dark hair had immediately matted in his face, curtained his eyes. "Good enough for a swim. For the dead. Dip a toe in."

Pete: "Eh, why not." Pete put his chips aside and set about taking his shoes off and rolling up his jeans.

This time of year the water was still fairly cold, but he didn't mind. He'd gone swimming in the dead of winter before.

MJ: "Fuck yeah. Hop in, Abe! I'll throw ya a stick!"

Abel: Abel stuck his hand in the water and pulled it out immediately. "It's freezing!"

MJ: "You're a dog!"

Abel: "Dogs still feel the cold!"

MJ: "Tell that to a Saint Bernard!"

Abel: "They're huge!"

MJ: MJ opened his mouth, ready for a dirty throwback before thinking better of it, sinking into the water instead.

Abel: Abel squinted. "I see your mind going in the gutter there," he called as MJ slipped beneath the surface. "I see it!"

MJ: A middle finger emerged from the depths.

Pete/Abel: “Wow, rude. And in front of Pete.” He leaned closer to Pete and whispered, “Do you think he can hear us down there?”

Pete chuckled and whispered back, “We probably sound a little muffled.”

MJ: MJ watched from below, sinking further to the bottom. The instinctual fear felt back in 2010 nothing but memory. A little unspoken merit to unlife he'd never seen in film, nor read in his favorite comics.

Abel: Abel squinted and moved closer to the water. "MJ, can you hear me?" he whisper yelled.

MJ: Nope. Just muffled of what he assumed was a conversation between them. He began to feel at the bottom, looking for anything Callum might have lost over the years.

Pete: There would be more than one interesting find beneath Callum's deck.

A travel mug that had been knocked off his sailboat when the water had been particularly choppy one day. A spoon he had dropped while enjoying his morning tea on the deck. And last but not least, a dog's collar and a whistle.

MJ: All of which collected no different than a man combing the beach for shells. The items were returned to the surface and brought other deck.

"Thought y'all were gettin' in; the fuck?"

Abel: "Pete is, I'm not," said Abel. "We were testing to see if you could hear us."

MJ: "Sounds like bein' underwater." The little trinkets were pushed further from the edge.

"Get the hell in here."

Pete/Abel: Pete would resume getting undressed, but Abel remained staunch in his refusal.

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I'm staying up here and eating my ice cream."

MJ: "Lemme have a lick." He kept going back despite flavors being nothing from memory. Thinking, maybe this time.

Pete/Abel: Abel scooped up some sherbet and offered MJ the spoon while Pete finally dove into the river.

MJ: Just a small taste. Something he could spit out without concern.

"Mm. Nope." River water could wash that out.

Now to find Peter and pull his leg. Literally.

Pete/Abel: "Aw. That makes me sad. I'll finish the whole pint in your honor."

Pete was floating on his back and looking up at the stars, feeling utterly peaceful until a certain someone came along and gave him a yank.

"Oy!" he laughed.

MJ: "What? What happened?" he laughed.

Pete: "I see you over there playing Jaws."

MJ: "What? We gotta lot in common." Hardly a current to take them. Hard to believe this attached to the ocean eventually.

"Race ya across."

Pete: "What does the winner get?"

MJ: "What does the loser want?"

Pete: "You tell me, all I can think about is food."

MJ: "What, lemme take a bite outta ya?"

Pete: "I meant I can't think of anything the winner or loser gets because all I can think about is food."

MJ: "Don't want a bite?"

Pete: “That would be a very intimate prize,” he said carefully.

MJ: "Can be. Could be. If you're so hungry, go back to the dock. I'll declare victory."

Pete: "And forfeit the race? Hell no."

MJ: "What's Abe doin'?" And he was off! Giving his full body towards the other side of the river. No need to breathe had its advantages.

Pete/Abel: "What--hey!" Laughing, Pete slipped beneath the surface and propelled himself forward. His lung capacity was better than it had been pre-bear but he still lost time coming up for air.

Abel sat on the deck and shook his head. "Not sportsman like."

MJ/Guildias: MJ and Peter were quicky becoming specks towards the other end of the wide river.

A new scent had been taken by the breeze. An ozonic, woody, softly musk cologne reached the docks seconds before the towering figure. Long healthy-looking hair, darker than the shadows, covered each shoulder. The man squatted next to Abel in proper form, cigarette between fingers. Arms straight on his knees.

"What the trickster do this time?" asked the stranger, voice silky, local, with a hint of German.

Abel: Abel paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth and slowly lowered it.

He scented something on the air a moment before he felt the new presence, and with no time to do anything about it, all he could do was startle.

"Noth--he's--uh, hi? Hi. We're not breaking and entering!"

Guildias: "That would require breaking and entering," he replied. "Of which you've not broken, nor entered."

Abel: "Right, yes. Hi. Again. It was MJ's idea to come here, I'm just the messenger. Or...teleporter."

Guildias: "A teleporter? He's come up in the world with friends."

He watched the two in the distance, the ever-learning and the ever-running. They seemed happy.

Abel: “Well I don’t know about that, but we are friends.”

Abel took a second to study the stranger. He smelled like MJ, so definitely a vampire. A tall one, if the length of his legs was anything to go by.

Talk about tall, dark, and handsome.

“So this is your house, huh?”

Guildias: "No. The person inside asleep is mine."

Another intake of cigarette, leaning himself an inch to Abel. "Still asleep. No harm done."

Abel: "Yeah, Pete said he would be. So you must be Callum's boyfriend or...husssband?" He didn't want to presume.

Guildias: "I am a label, yes," he smiled politely.

Abel: "Not big on those?"

Guildias: "They mean everything and nothing."

Abel: "You're not wrong." He went back to his sherbet. The scent of the smoke reminded him of his dad, which in turn was making him more than a little nostalgic.

"I'm Abel by the way."

Guildias: "Hello, Abel." Two fingers to the chest. "Guildias."

Pete: "Nice to meet you! I'd offer you some of the mountain of junk food we got, but...you know."

Guildias: "I don't feel like cleaning a mess tonight."

Abel: "Is there anything you'd like to sniff? Which is a very weird question but there you go."

MJ/Guildias: "He's not your first, is he?"

MJ shook his head like a dog, splashing water over Peter in the process. Wiped his hand down his face.

"Fuck."

Pete/Abel: "MJ? He's the first one of you guys that I've been friends with, yeah."

Pete intended to come up to take a breath only to be immediately splashed with water.

"Hey!" he chuckled.

MJ/Guildias: "So, you're young?"

"He ain't been givin' ya trouble?" asked MJ, staring off in the direction of the docks. The new long dark figure.

Pete/Abel: "Technically I'm middle-aged, I just don't look it. Although I guess compared to someone like you I'm young."

Pete glanced back toward the docks and shook his head. "Nope, none. We're not bosom buddies or anything but we get along okay."

MJ/Guildias: "Some would consider me young." A small smile. "Young is relative."

MJ just stared for a moment. He could feel his old self, that place between distaste and envy. That man was gone, but his ghost still lingered.

"You're stronger now."

Pete/Abe;: "Yeah, I guess so. Sure you wouldn't like to sniff anything? Anything your person doesn't have in his pantry, I mean."

Another glance toward Guildias. Their relationship hadn't changed too much since Pete had returned from France, but he wasn't sure how much his being a fully bloomed werebear had to do with it.

"I am, but that's incidental. Not like I'm gonna fight him or anything."

MJ/Guildias: "I've learned long ago not to indulge. Jolly Ranchers and Bazooka gum were my sweets. Something to end this," the twirled cigarette. "Didn't pan out."

MJ arched a brow, allowed the pathetic current to pull him closer. "But ya could," he smiled.

Pete/Abel: Abel smiled at the cigarette. "At least it can't hurt you anymore. What brand are those?"

Pete just smiled and shook his head. "In theory. Only fight I've been in recently is with a raccoon."

MJ/Guildias: "Camel." A brand which he had not strayed since mortality. "Certainly disturbs my clothes, according to my person."

A raccoon? The image which conjured was of a great bear pawing at a small relentless jackass of an animal. An image which had him laughing openly at his own mind.

Pete/Abel: His expression softened. "I actually liked the smell of Camels. They're the kind my father used to smoke."

"Whatever you're imagining is probably close to exactly what happened." Pete frowned. "Little asshole stole my fish."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias looked to the man at his side, head barely moving with the effort.

The cigarette was offered.

"Oh my fuckin' god!" MJ lulled his body back to float, laughter rippling the water around him.

Pete/Abel: Abel accepted it but didn't take a drag. He just wafted the smoke and felt nostalgia slam into him like an asteroid.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, giving it back.

Only the echo of raucous laughter coming from the other side of the river could pull him back.

"Sounds like they're having a ball over there," he chuckled.

Meanwhile, Pete was grinning like a lunatic. "I almost wish I was joking."

MJ/Guildias: "MJ has that power over people." The cigarette was returned to his mouth. A long slow drag of what remained, before putting out the end on the bottom of the dock; many tiny burns scattered throughout the years.

"I wonder," MJ managed after a time, "ya know, raccoon people. Or like, snake people. Or somethin'."

Pete/Abel: Abel just grinned. "He sure does. He's a good guy."

"There are definitely snake people. Not sure if there are raccoon people but I wouldn't be surprised. I think the raccoon I fought was normal, though. A normal fish thief."

MJ: "My people." If MJ were to be anyone, other than kin to the late Miss Swiss.

"How ya know about snake people?"

Pete: "Gaetan told me about all the types of Fera he knows of. There are also shark people and gator people, which is fucking insane."

MJ: "Gator people, so like..." Give him a second to consider his words. "They're the oldest? I mean... sounds right."

Pete: "I...guess? Have gators been around longer than sharks?"

MJ: "Have bugs been around longer than sharks? Wait are bugs a thing?"

Pete: "Probablyyyy? I feel like bugs maybe came first, then sharks? Who knows, man."

MJ: "Wow. You're suddenly low on that totem pole."

Pete: "On the evolutionary scale, yeah. But I'm slightly higher than I was pre-bear."

MJ: "Slightly, like a mile behind?"

Pete: "It's not much, but it's something."

MJ: "Not much between a human and a Fera? Ya kiddin' me?"

Pete: "Again, evolution scale. You ever watch Cosmos?"

MJ: "What's that?"

Pete: "A docuseries about the universe and spacetime."

MJ: "And how's that about ya bein' a bear?"

Pete: "In the whole grand scheme of time and evolution, there's not that big a leap between Fera and humans. Fera are superior, but again, not by much when you consider the whole of existence."

MJ: "What lil I fuckin' know, didn't a god make ya?"

Pete: "I think so? Who really knows. How'd we get here?" he laughed.

MJ: "A raccoon got us here."

Pete: "Oh yeah. Thieving little asshole."

MJ: "N'ya want me to see ya? Like that?"

Pete: "Getting got by a raccoon?"

MJ: "Gettin' got by a raccoon. I'll have a talk with em."

Pete: He chuckled. "My hero. But yeah, I want to share that with you. Me being a bear, the whole full moon routine."

MJ: "How long we got 'til then?"

Pete: "A few days. Full moon is on the 9th."

MJ: "Right, right." Hadn't he asked already? He just wanted to hear Peter speak. He didn't want that swim back to Guildias and the interview he knew was coming. He belonged here as much as that snake. More, now.

"Who fuckin' won this shit?" The reason for being on the other side of the river.

Pete: "Pretty sure you did," said Pete, going back to floating. "All that having to breathe slowed me down."

MJ: "Should see what the sky looks like from the bottom of the ocean. Or Lake Michigan. Walked around Lake Michigan before I got here."

Pete: "Isn't Lake Michigan also like, freezing and windy and as choppy as the ocean?"

MJ: "Fuckin' huge." The river was a great excuse to gently bump into Peter's chest.

Pete: "Isn't it also full of wrecked ships and bodies?"

MJ: "Yep. Wish ya could see."

Pete: "I think I'd avoid the bodies if I had the ability to go down there without scuba gear."

MJ: "Didn't see one. Thought I saw ... somethin' outta Swamp Thing."

Pete: "Now that does not surprise me at all."

MJ: "N'you're in this river why?"

Pete: "There are no river monsters in it. I check every month."

MJ: "Nothin'? Not even a gator thing?"

Pete: "You start getting bigger fish and things once you get out into the sound, but the river proper only has the usual things in it."

MJ: "Man, ya really should see your old man."

Pete: "He hasn't found any river monsters either as far as I know. And believe me, he would've told me. He loves shit like that."

MJ: "Wrong old man."

Pete: "Oh. My old man is Pete Graham, Sr. The other guy is just a bear sperm donor."

MJ: "C'mon, man. I still stand by what I said."

Pete: "And I stand by what I said. I've already got a dad."

MJ: "That's only a portion of your life now. Gotta expand t'somethin' that's actually you."

Taking his own advice, he started back towards the shore.

Pete: "I guess." Although, he fully considered his life and his family something that was actually him. Being a bear hadn't changed that.

But they'd already had that discussion and he didn't want to rehash it.

He'd just swim alongside MJ.

Guildias: Guildias only rose to his feet with the first splash of droplets to his arm. Bowing his back long enough to offer his hand to Peter, all but lifting the Fera wholesale from the water.

Pete/Abel: Pete offered a smile in greeting, thanking Guildias as he helped--lifted--him out of the river. He didn't see that strength often but when he did, it always caught him off guard.

"So who won the race?" Abel asked.

"MJ did."

Guildias: "Are you a betting man?" Guildias asked Peter. "You could have won, had your opponent not been an athlete in his former life."

Pete/Abel: “I’m an athlete now,” he chuckled. “I just have to breathe.”

Abel nodded sagely. “Breathing will get you every time.”

MJ/Guildias: "I mean to say, you might have stood a chance against a one of those other clans."

MJ just laughed, arms folded over the dock, still floating at the current's mercy.

"I've seen a fat Rav."

Abel: “You have?” Abel’s face lit with interest. The whole clan thing was fascinating. “When?”

MJ: "With Simon. The step-sire...asshole."

Abel: Abel made a face. He didn't know much about MJ's step-sire, but what he did know was enough to make him dislike him.

"Ugh. What was the other Ravnos like? Could you beat him up?"

MJ: "Looked like an old Romanian biker with a gimp in his basement. Hell fuckin' no."

Abel: He threw his head back and laughed. "You could've taken him! You're squirrely!"

MJ: "The fuck ya just say to me?"

Abel: "You're squirrely! Wiley! Like the coyote, only more successful!"

Guildias: Peter was given a look from Guildias. This was your choice? The man threatening to pounce and "put the pup in his place", was it?

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't notice; he was too busy grinning and laughing at Abel and MJ.

Yes, this was absolutely his choice.

"It was a compliment!" Abel laughed, scooching out of grabbing range.

MJ/Guildias: "I'm going to kick you in and end all of this if you don't quiet down." A threat and promise which put a smile on MJ's face.

"I sure missed your broodin' face, Aloysius."

"Ah, there you are, Victoria."

Abel: Abel's brow furrowed. "Aloysius? I thought your name was Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: "First names and surnames."

"Can't you tell he's prior military?"

Abel: "All we talked about is junk food and being old."

MJ: "How can ya say that? You're practically a baby."

Abel: "Pfft, I'm older than everyone here except Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias simply smiled. "Seniority has its perks. I suppose you're not really in your thirties anymore. What was the Victorian age like?"

"I danced scandalously with your grandmother."

Abel: "Wasn't everything scandalous back then?" Abel set the ice cream aside in favor of some chips.

MJ: "Like ya wouldn't believe," scoffed MJ.

Abel: “Now nothing is scandalous. We’ve seen so many billboards for strip clubs on our road trip.”

MJ/Guildias: "Some things. Some circles. Even our circle."

MJ shook his head, splayed out over the dock to stare up at the stairs, fists to his forehead.

Guildias crouched once more, lower back leaned against the pillar.

Abel: "Not as...nitpicky though. Things that are scandalous now are actually scandalous and sometimes kinda fucked up. The Victorians wouldn't let people show ankles."

MJ/Guildias: "It was nuance. What else do ya show? Ya represent your family. No internet but way better magnifyin' glass."

"What do you recall?" Guildias watched the fledgling. Or was this now a neonate?

"Honestly?" Hands dropped to his stomach.

"Morocco. London. Matheus going by Frederick. New York."

Pete/Abel: Pete wasn't sure he liked this conversation, but that was more than likely lingering distaste for the woman that had assaulted him and thrown his best friend off a balcony.

He was as glad that MJ was okay as he was irked that she hadn't died completely.

"Who's Matheus?" Abel asked. He on the other hand, was fascinated.

MJ: "Mm - Victoria's partner. Ya hear them stories about Jack the Ripper? He was the detective on the case. Had visions of murders. Already insane before a Malkavian sunk their teeth in."

Abel: His eyes went wide. "Wait, did he know who it was?"

MJ: MJ smiled. A smile of a man with an answer. A smile that would not have been before the merge.

"History's got it wrong. All the assumptions."

Abel: "So it wasn't someone with medical training?"

MJ: Another smile. Two personalities with a love of secrets and mystery. There would be no budging.

Abel: "AH HA! I KNEW IT WAS SOME RANDO!"

MJ: "Stew in it, baby."

Abel: "I feel vindicated."

MJ: "I didn't say shit!"

Abel: "Ah, but you did!"

MJ: "Ya think I did."

Abel: "You totally did and you can't take it back now."

MJ/Guildias: "What ya think I did?"

"There's the old trickster," Guildias smiled to himself.

Abel: "You said history's got all the assumptions wrong, the most popular of which is that someone with medical knowledge killed those women. As such, people assumed it had to have been a doctor."

MJ: "Ya can think it's Lewis Carroll or a butcher. Ya won't be spot on."

Abel: “I don’t know who it was. My best guess is either some psycho or some supernatural psycho.”

MJ: "Human."

Abel: “Figures. It’s something a human psycho would do.”

MJ: "I'll let ya stew in it." Peter was given a wink.

Abel: “No stewing here!” Abel said cheerfully, going for some Goldfish. “Only vindication.”

MJ: "Tell Peter what happens to his missin' socks n'let him feel vindicated."

Pete/Abel: “Sock goblins,” Abel said to Pete.

“Sock...goblins?”

MJ: "There's more."

Pete: “More sock goblins?” Pete asked.

MJ: "More reasons!"

Pete: "What reasons do the sock goblins have?"

MJ: "Nanana. I mean more than sock goblins."

Pete: "Oh! There's more reasons socks disappear?"

MJ: "Yes! Lots of shit loves socks. It ain't you."

Pete: "Feels like it's me. So why do the goblins and other things steal socks?"

MJ: "Abe's the expert, not me."

Pete/Abel: "They don't steal--well, the goblins do," said Abel. "But sometimes there are portals and things like loose change and lost socks fall into them and disappear into the Umbra."

Pete blinked. "...Portals."

"Magic portals!"

MJ/Guildias: "Into the Umbra."

"That's too advanced for Peter," Guildias frowned.

"It ain't your call. He's a big ol' bear. Can learn what he wants."

Pete/Abel: Pete was looking at all of them with a furrowed brow. "So you're telling me...that the reason my socks disappear...is because they're stolen by goblins and sometimes fall into magic portals to the Umbra."

Abel nodded. "Yeah! Do you feel magic in your house?"

"Not really?"

"Then it's probably goblins."

MJ: MJ nodded sagely. There you have it.

"Heard about that one kid in Raleigh. Playin' hide-n-seek with his sister. Always hides in the dryer. One day they were playin', then he's just gone. Could be other shit, but what ya wanna bet he's on the other side?"

Pete: "So portals can just appear anywhere and take a whole child?!"

MJ: "Been on my mind. The kid. I think we can do somethin' about it. I wanna do somethin' about it."

Pete: "Is it possible to do something? Can people come back from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Why not? How rare is a one-way door? What ya wanna bet it ain't goblins givin' back socks."

Pete: Pete turned to Guildias. "Ever heard of someone going to the Umbra and coming back?"

Guildias: "You really want to know?"

Pete: "I'd like to have realistic expectations for finding this kid and whether or not he'd be okay when we found him."

Guildias: "Would you rather his parents bury an empty casket?"

Pete: "I'd rather his parents have him back, I just don't want to go in blind."

Guildias: "Blind is the Umbra, but not those within. The other side is more than a single realm. It's inconceivable... but penetrable. Especially to your people. So go the tales."

Pete: "So it's theoretically possible to go in, find this kid, and bring him home to his parents?"

Guildias: "I'm not going to say yes or no. It doesn't work that way."

Pete: "How does it work?"

Guildias: "Schrodinger's cat."

Pete: "Oh good," he sighed. "....Is it possible to get someone out of the Umbra from outside the Umbra?"

MJ/Guildias: "Can you pull something out water without touching it by any means?"

"What d'ya know, Abe?"

Abel: Abel answered for Pete. "Sure you can. With a fishing pole or a net or a scoop of some kind. I haven't ever looked into it, but that's where I'd lay my bets. Magical scoop. Or rather magic as a scoop."

Guildias: "'By any means'," the vampire chuckled. While normally disinterested in those outside of his circle, familiars were within the exception.

"If you're serious about your rescue operation, you should speak with Gertrude Draegan."

Pete/Abel: "Well now, there's a difference between touching the water or getting into the water and just getting wet. Nuance is key here."

Pete shook his head. "Absolutely I am not going to do that."

MJ: "I'll do it," said MJ. "I owe her a visit."

Pete: "Why does she have to be involved at all?"

MJ: "Manners. Gotta do that manners thing, babe."

Pete: "The manners thing can be done without bringing up our magical Umbra scooping venture."

Guildias: "Then the Malkavian?" Guildias suggested with two fingers.

Pete: Pete pointed at Abel. "We've got Abel, we're sorted as Callum says."

Guildias: "My knowledge is limited but not barren. If I don't assist, Callum will not be forgiving."

Pete: "You and Abel then. And Callum. Sorted."

Guildias: "Dawn, dusk, full moons and moonless nights are preferable. I'm not fireproof, and neither is that one. The sooner the better, if Schrodinger's cat has any chance."

Pete: “How long ago did the kid disappear?” Pete asked MJ.

MJ: "Two-ish days ago."

Pete/Abel: “How soon can you find a magical scoop?” he asked Abel.

“I won’t know until I get into it but I have a deep well to draw from.”

MJ/Guildias: "Let's get started, then. Humans got, what, a month before they starve? Less if he - does it matter on the other side? I've only seen people grab shit from it. Gertrude, actually."

"She operates on a different aspect, if you hadn't noticed."

Abel: "Time doesn't work the same way in the Umbra," said Abel. "It's a lot more fluid and abstract, but sooner is still definitely better."

MJ: "Mmkay." MJ got to his feet, snatched up his clothes. "Ya said Cal, both of ya. We addin' him?"

Pete: “Maybe?” said Pete. “He might know about some magic that could help. Or his cousin might.”

Guildias: "A party of five. How could this go wrong?" Guildias smirked.

Abel: Abel gestured with his spoon. “Positive thoughts, my guy.”

Guildias: "We'll best be a party of four; Callum's schedule is otherwise occupied."

Pete: “He’ll be upset if we don’t at least tell him about it. And I really think he might know something that could help,” Pete added.

Guildias: "Yes, but not to bring."

Pete/Abel: "All right, fair enough." That was really Callum's call but he'd let it be for now. They didn't even have anywhere to bring anyone yet.

Abel took another bite of ice cream and put the carton away. "We should get back. Scooby Dooby Do, we've got some work to do now."

MJ/Guildias: "That is perhaps the most untactful declaration of rescue I've ever heard."

MJ simply smiled. "I mean, he's a dog. That's like his thing."

Abel: “Hey! My declaration of rescue will be very tactful! This is my declaration of research.”

MJ/Guildias: "On that eccentric note, I will return. I know where to find you."

The tall Setite was saluted. A wink for good measure.

"Tomorrow night," MJ called to the back of Guildias' raised hand.

Abel: "It was nice to meet you!" Abel called after him, and interestingly enough, he meant it.

Once the three of them were alone again he said, "He seems nice for a vampire."

MJ: MJ looked over to Peter, raised a brow. "What ya think of that statement?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "He has his moments."

MJ: "We'll leave it there." Time to hop on his feet while lacing his shoes.

Abel: "I sense a story there but we'll leave that for another time." He paused for a beat. "Should we call X?"

MJ: "This gonna be a whole coterie thing, or just us? Already got that back there with us."

Abel: "Maybe not a whole coterie thing, but can you think of any other person who might know how to scoop someone out of the Umbra?"

MJ: "Peter done said no. Simon, maybe. More than maybe. The maybe is me. What ya wanna bet Cal knows some witches?"

Pete/Abel: "Peter is still firm on the demon front," Pete chimed in. "And yeah, I think Cal does."

Abel nodded. "All right, no X. Oh! What about Ramsay? He knows all kinds of shit."

MJ: "No X, no Cal, no Gertrude, no Matheus - your makin' that list short."

Pete: "Hey, Guildias said no Cal, not me. I think it's Cal's call but that's just me."

MJ: "I mean, if I told ya no I hope ya listen."

Pete: "It's been suggested that I'm dangerously reckless and stubborn."

MJ: "One of the worst. Cal takes the cake."

Pete: "He's Scottish, it's congenital."

MJ: "I mean, that's like sayin' I get a pass flirtin' for bein' Spanish."

Abel: "Are the Spanish known for flirting?" asked Abel.

MJ: "You're older than me. And lived a piss stream away."

Abel: "Bergen is more than a piss stream away from Spain."

MJ: "Closer than America." And this is how conversation went between the two of them. All across America and it was this. Some subject with bickering. Some subject with many tangents. It was a wonder they knew so much of each other.

Pete/Abel: Pete just couldn't help but smile at the pair of them and their banter. He imagined this is how people felt listening to him and Callum, witnessing that bond and seeing all the little signs that pointed at the hard as diamonds foundation of trust.

"Everything is close together if you measure by the America ruler," Abel said with a snort. "This country is ginormous."

MJ: "Ginormous and likes to keep everyone at umbrella length." He demonstrated with the item of mention, long and orange and just suddenly in his hand.

Pete/Abel: Abel laughed. "It's the American way!"

Pete didn't quite startle, but he did give a bit of a start. "Never gonna be used to how quickly you can magic things out of thin air."

MJ: "This ain't nothin'. Not anymore. Watch this shit," he commanded, promptly smacking Abel in the ass with the umbrella before it disappeared.

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed as Abel cried out a rather undignified "Ahhh!"

"You really are getting good. Of course, you were good before." He still remembered that snake on the bar in vivid detail.

MJ: "Only gets better. Don't ya have magic of your own?"

Pete: “It’s very nature oriented and I don’t have a lot of it, but yeah. I can suddenly keep plants alive without Cal.”

MJ: "Ain't he jealous," the Ravnos grinned.

Pete: "The opposite actually," Pete chuckled. "I am now trusted with the real versions of my nice fake plants. The cat safe ones anyway."

MJ: "No more glass roses, huh?"

Pete: "Those live on my bedside table."

MJ: "Still?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. "Still. Was thinking about making a little box or something for them. Midas does this thing where he knocks shit over when he wants attention and I don't want him to get my roses."

MJ: He had missed that smile. "Could talk to him, if ya want."

Pete: "That's riiiiiight, I forgot you could do that! Would you? I really don't want him to break them."

MJ: "I ain't gonna bark orders." Although he could. "We'll negotiate."

Pete: "He can be bribed with salmon and chicken."

MJ: "What's his opinion of dogs?"

Pete: "Depends on the dog. He likes the really big fluffy ones that just kinda lay around because then he can sleep on them. Smaller dogs are judged on a case by case basis."

MJ: "We headin' back? I got an idea. All mafioso."

Pete: "Yeah, sure. Is the mafioso idea for convincing Midas not to break my sentimental things or for rescuing the kid from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Cat first, kid tomorrow night."

Pete/Abel: "Does it involve Abel?"

"Yeah, does it involve me?" Abel asked. "I wanna make a good impression on Midas."

MJ: "You'll see." One more vigorous shake of his head, fingers combed through the wet mess of black.

Abel: "We need to towel off your hair." Abel gathered up all their snacks. "Ready to go, boys?"

MJ: "Ain't gonna catch a cold." So often did he forget Abel's age until he said something like that. Then it was just glaring.

"Yep."

Abel: "No but you might get frost in your hair. Are we going to the RV or to Pete's house?"

MJ: "Pete's." He looked to the sky, though. "When ya usually go t'bed?"

Pete/Abel: "Varies," said Pete. "You know me, I'm on the pub owner sleep schedule. We're all good."

"Good!" Abel adjusted the bags on one arm and held out a hand to each of them. "Now Pete, I need you to visualize your house so I can take us there."

MJ: "It's March, man. We can walk." But still he took that hand, if only to straighten himself.

Pete/Abel: "This is faster! Why walk when you can teleport?"

"Hard to argue with that," said Pete, taking Abel's hand and forming as clear an image of his house as he could in his mind.

And off they went through time and space.

#Nice to Meet You chapter #petegraham #mjcalloway #anedendarkly #abelharrington

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