#the drama before miles glances down at the hand and alex runs away

[applysome]

Alex Turner on his knees for Miles Kane : a collection

Source: Pinterest

except

6 8 10

[ahomeganeyatsu]

Ran Off in the Night (Part 7)

“Wow, who pissed in your coffee this morning and made you drink it?” Arthur’s voice interrupted him as he tried to get his binder from his locker.

Lucas took his eyes off from what he was doing to give his spectacled-friend the full view of his unimpressed look before returning his attention to his locker. There were many variations of it, dependent on the level of his shit-o-meter.

“Yikes, little Lulu’s quite in a mood today.” Arthur remarked to someone. He still sounded like he found it amusing, but there was also a smidgeon of concern there.

“You think?” Yann replied. He had arrived with Basile and the three of them exchanged fist bumps. They left the curly-haired teen hanging once again. It was a running joke in their group, none of them really planned it but they still found themselves agreeing to it. “The hoodie’s a dead-giveaway.”

“Yeah, Lucas, did you get the wrong size or something?” Basile asked, his face folded in a baffled expression. He never had seen Lucas in clothes not his size. He always dressed good and that’s saying something when Lucas had clothes that were the same thing only in several different colors (grey, blue, white and black). He was also the type who managed to look good in a pair of joggers for goodness sake. How unfair was that?

Lucas wore 24’s hoodie to school today. He was still unsettled from the dream and this was the only thing that managed to calm him down. The scent of its owner has faded a bit, and Lucas has worn it long enough that his own smell had mixed with the hoodie. It was kind of nice. And he still hadn’t figured out why that was. 24 still hadn’t shown his ridiculously beautiful gorgeous dumb face again.

Something Lucas was ambivalent about.

On one hand, he wished he was here so Lucas could get answers. On the other, he would rather not have the guy see him wearing his hoodie to school. He seemed like the kind of guy who would feel incredibly proud of it. Lucas wasn’t going to feed his ego. No, siree.

“You could have gotten it swapped in the right size. Unless it was online and you lost the receipt so you couldn’t exchange it?” Basile was saying and Lucas resolved not to deign his question with an answer.

“Don’t you have a class to get to?” he said instead, slamming his locker shut and locking it quickly.

Arthur and Yann exchanged a glance but both shrugged as they had no answer for Lucas’ mood. They didn’t press him, for now. They already understood that the more they asked the more he would shy away and close off. And none of them wanted that.

“See you guys at lunch then, come on Basile.” Yann waved for the boy to come along. Basile still looked confused but followed after, throwing a “Later” to Lucas and Arthur.

“One of these days, you’re gonna tell us what’s bothering you Lulu.” Arthur draped his arm over Lucas’ shoulder and ruffled his hair. “But for now, did you read up on the topic today?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be our resident nerd?”

Arthur flicked his hand dismissively. “Psh. My glasses may be real but my eyes haven’t been damaged from studying.” He sounded oddly proud of that but Lucas refrained from pointing it out.

“Why aren’t you asking Alex? Isn’t she supposed to be your partner?”

“Like you’ve asked Imane.” The look on his face begged Lucas to tell him he was wrong. And Arthur knew Lucas’ answer to that.

“Hey, at least I know why I haven’t talked to my partner. She’s fucking scary,” he explained. There was no debating that. It was fact. A truth that became absolute to whoever has encountered Imane Bakhellal. “Compared to that, Alex’s more approachable.”

“She also forgets to do our assignments 50-percent of the time,” Arthur pointed out.

“Like you’re any better,” Lucas scoffed.

This time Arthur tugged at his hair and Lucas squawked, elbowing him in retaliation.

  To Q:

You’re not entertaining clients on Wednesday are you?

 From Q:

For you mon loulou, I’ll clear my schedule. Did you need something in particular? My services aren’t cheap you know! But I can always give you a discount ;)

 To Q:

Even if you did give me a discount, I still can’t afford the services you provide. I’ll do manual labor like last time.

 From Q:

That’s always a pleasure.

 To Q:

Ugh. PLEASE. STOP. Don’t make it sound weird.

 From Q:

Hey, not my fault your mind’s in the gutter.

Gotta go, duty calls. See you mon petit chou!

 To Q:

Yeah, yeah see—

 “Who are you texting?”

Lucas jumped in his seat, his phone almost flying from his hand if he hadn’t fumbled to catch it. His heart was beating a mile a minute in chest. He turned in his seat to look to his side and saw Imane standing beside him, smirking a bit.

“Fuck, Imane. Did you really have to scare me like that?” he glared at her.

The smirk disappeared and the impassive no-bullshit face slams back on. “Do you really have to be so grumpy all the time? It’s not my fault you’re a jumpy kitten.” She took her seat beside him and plopped her bag in front of her. Lucas almost groaned. Was Mika’s pet name for him spreading to the girls? They were Manon’s friends and Mika hung out with them once in a while. He wouldn’t put it past Mika to tell the girls just to tease him. “I was going to give you a gift,” she continued as he brought out her text book. “But I changed my mind.”

“A gift, really?” a crease formed on his forehead.

“Yeah, but I’m not giving it to you,” Imane repeated. “You had your chance.” Okay, Lucas would be stupid not to admit he was curious. What kind of gift would Imane even get him? But Imane was a mountain, strong and unmovable. So, when she said she won’t give it, she wasn’t going to give it.

He finished the message he had been typing and sent it. He slid his phone back into his bag and took out his book. The page they were going to be doing was already on the board. He flipped through it lazily to get to the page, his mind wandering to the common room. He still hadn’t figured out why 24 showed up in the common room of all places. Maybe— no, that would be stupid. But what if, right? What if the room had some special properties that could summon 24?

The thought was as ridiculous as it sounded but he at least had to venture on that idea. See if it pans out before dismissing it. He glanced at Imane. There was no harm in asking.

“Hey, Imane,” he started. Imane hummed to tell him she was listening. “Do you have more meetings planned for the common room?”

This made Imane pause in her reading and place her attention on Lucas. “Like you care about it now?”

“Well, no.” She cocked a brow at him. “I mean, it’s just a good idea, that’s all.”

Imane hummed and turned back to the textbook. “And to be honest, the first meeting wasn’t as bad as it seemed,” he added, returning his own attention to his own textbook and frowned at the exercise. Shit, he may have read up on the wrong topic.

“There’s another meeting on Wednesday noon, if you want to join,” Imane told him.

He hasn’t sent Q what time he’ll be dropping by on Wednesday, so it’s safe to come. Lucas nodded. “Okay, I’ll be there.” He started skimming over the page to get a clue what they’ll be doing. He wasn’t terribly lost on the topic, so that was good.

“Okay, fine. You can get your gift,” Imane sighed and she flicked her eyes below their table.

Lucas turned his eyes down and saw that in Imane’s hand, there lies the packet of weed that he had lost in Emma’s party a week ago. His eyes widened, “Oh yes girl! You’re the boss!” he muttered excitedly.

“Hurry up, I’m not gonna sit like this for the whole class.”

The blue-eyed teen took his bag, then the weed in Imane’s hand but before he could slide it in the pockets, Madam Rigaux called for their attention.

“What are you two up to?”

Lucas was frozen. Shit. They were going to get caught. He was going to get caught with weed in his hand. Fuck.

“Nothing,” Imane’s voice snapped him out and Lucas mimicked her words, turning to her with wide panicked eyes. Imane was acting as cool as a cucumber and Lucas really did admire her for being able to act as if Lucas wasn’t holding a packet of weed in his hand, and this won’t get them suspended, if not expelled.

“What are you hiding under the table?”

Everyone was looking at them. All ready to see the latest drama getting dished out in Madam Rigaux’s class.

“Nothing at all,” Imane replied, flipping through the textbook. He hadn’t even noticed that she had her hand tucked in her bag. “I was just looking for something in my bag.”

Madam Rigaux started walking towards them and Lucas tried to keep his cool. But he had never been good under pressure. He tried not to fidget in his seat, not to look at his hand where he was clutching the packet of weed, and fucking breathe, Lallemant. Keep it together! He subtly slid the packet of weed in one of the open pockets and zipped it back close.

“Imane, do you think I’m stupid? Let me see.” Madam Rigaux was right behind Lucas, her hand extended for Imane to give her whatever she was hiding.

Lucas turned to Imane, looking to see what she’ll do. And Imane. Imane slammed something on the table. At first, it made no sense. What the hell did she just put on their table? But the split-second shock wore off and Lucas did a double-take because he knew what those are. He had seen it in the flat’s bathroom and in his old home. The guts of this girl. Imane Bakhellal just slammed tampons on our fucking table.

And Lucas was staring at Imane, blue-eyes screaming what the fuck woman. He nearly protested when Imane said he bought them for her. No words come out though. He still can’t believe Imane just did that.

Once Mada Rigaux had backed off and Imane was done ranting how humiliated she was, as if she hadn’t just showed Madam Rigaux up like the boss she was. He glanced at Imane and met her dark eyes. Lucas tried to stop the smile breaking out on his face. But the smug look on Imane’s face was enough to dash his efforts. He hid his face behind his hand, lest Madam Rigaux sees them. A giggle bubbled out of his throat and Imane was snickering right next to him.

Okay, Imane was definitely the boss.

   Lucas’ stomach ached from laughter as Alexia had finished reading out one of the surveys in her hand.

“W-Wait, can I see that?” he asked wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. Alexia handed him the survey and he quickly glanced at the number. He didn’t even need to read all of it out. The scribble was familiar enough for him to know who this was. “Uh,” he coughed. “So, girls, this is Basile’s number.”

“No, seriously, what is up with him? How come he’s interested in me now?” Daphne asked frustrated. “Like the other day I caught him staring at me and actually drooling. I could feel his eyes on me from a 100 meters away,” she gesticulated and shuddered, “It was a nightmare.”

They couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Daphne’s face. Lucas was not even going to defend Baz. The guy has some problems expressing his feelings that tend to creep a girl out. Even with Yann, Arthur and his guidance, Baz still had a long way to go. He just hoped his friend would tone it down or else he’ll lose all his chances with Daphne.

They read a few more, getting a couple more laughs when they read the one from Alexia and Emma came back in with a scowl on her face.

“What’s going on?” Imane asked immediately noticing the change in girl’s mood.

“Alex is getting on my nerves. Apparently, I’ve been telling people we were going out,” she rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone.

Whoops. Maybe Lucas shouldn’t have mentioned anything when he bumped into Alex last Monday. It wasn’t his fault he read the atmosphere wrong! He and Emma looked pretty close in her IG stories and posts that Lucas assumed there was something going on between them. Then again, he thought wolves were monogamous and look where Alex was. A fuckboy to the core.

He has half an ear open to the conversation. Eyes trained outside the courtyard. He might be friends with Alex and knew about his heritage but they still weren’t that close. Not the way he was close to the gang. He didn’t want to know too much about Emma’s relationship in fear of fucking it up like last time. They seem to be better these days and Emma was okay with him, but Lucas still hadn’t forgiven himself for what he did.

He was thinking of ways on how to make it up to Emma when he saw a familiar mop of unruly brown hair right through the window. “Okay, I gotta go girls. Here’s your form,” he handed the papers he had been holding to Alexia and he grabbed his bag, rushing out of the room. He didn’t even hear the girls saying bye to him.

He couldn’t have mistaken it. He knew he saw 24. He might not be sporting his usual black on black attire, exchanged for a brown jacket and an army green backpack of all things. But the gait, the hair—Lucas knew it as 24. He came out into the courtyard but before he could look around, the guys were right there.

They ask him if he was in the common room and he responded in the affirmative. Yann made a comment about him hanging out with the girls a lot and Basile butted in, asking if Daphne has said anything about him. Lucas was this close to telling him that he was creeping her out but figured he’ll have to discover it on his own, and so he just tells him “No”. He looked away from his friends, eyes darting all over the courtyard but 24— 24 was gone. He wasn’t there anymore.

Lucas wanted to stomp his feet in frustration. He can’t believe he missed him again. This was getting absolutely ridiculous! One moment he was there and the next he’s not. Stupid Teumessian fox analogy, why did he have to compare him to that damned fox?

Basile is still speaking but Lucas wasn’t paying any attention anymore. Arthur was telling him something but their words were all registering as gibberish to him. He was too hung up on the thought of 24 being here just a second ago and disappearing altogether again. He was still looking around, hoping to maybe somehow catch a tell-tale sign of him. Maybe he missed something? Maybe 24 was just teasing him? He had done it back in the bus stop, smooth fucker that he was. He might be doing it again now.

But then he heard that voice, and Lucas bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything offensive.

Chloe was there and this time accompanied by a friend. He can’t remember her name but he did remember Basile helping her out when she was puking her guts out in Emma’s kitchen sink.

“I’m fine,” he told her, voice devoid of any interest.

It wasn’t fazing her. She was still smiling. “Are you doing anything this Friday night? We were planning a party in Maria’s house. It’s nothing big, just an intimate gathering.” She was acting cool, like this was nothing big. Like this was totally normal. She was just asking a guy she made out with in a party two weeks ago that hasn’t responded to any of her messages.

Fuck, did he make a mistake accepting her friend request?

Should Lucas have not done that?

He wasn’t stupid or blind. He could read it as clear as day in her eyes that she wanted him to say yes, to accept the invitation. Then her eyes darted to his three dumbass friends behind him and said, “You guys could come too, obviously.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry but it’s really bad timing. I have something scheduled for Friday—” he could already see Chloe’s smile faltering and the look on her friend’s face was as close to the fuck oh shit no he has ever seen as she looked from Lucas to Chloe.

But Arthur, the great interjector, just put his hand on Lucas’ shoulder pulling him to the side and inserting himself, literally, into the conversation. “Okay. So no, no, no. We don’t have anything on Friday.” Lucas slowly turned to glare daggers at Arthur to shut up, Turturo. Who said he was talking about them having plans?  It was just him!  Him, Lucas, no one else! They could go to Chloe’s party for all he cared! Don’t drag him into this!

Arthur was displaying an incredible amount of imperviousness to his death glare. He was almost impressed. Almost. “We would love to come and we’re bringing booze.”

Chloe was already smiling again, spirits lifted from the acceptance of the invitation. “Ok, cool. We’ll send you the address. See you on Friday!”

Lucas gave her one of his fakest smiles that everyone else thought was real, “Cool.”

Their gaze followed the two girls as they left. When they were out of ear shot, Yann turned to Lucas. He looked a bit done with Lucas. “Come on, Lucas. What’s your problem?”

“What are you talking about?” he said. He felt tired all of a sudden. He wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore.

“I don’t know. Do you want us to stay between guys for the rest of our lives?”

“Lucas, you never say no to an ‘intimate gathering’ with a girl,” Basile added in. “Never!” He wanted to tell him that if he didn’t stop speaking like that he should definitely say goodbye to his chances with Daphne.

“Guys, Chloe and I saw each other a total of three times, four if you can’t this one, and she has been talking me ever since. It’s stressing me out.”

Basile threw up his hands like he couldn’t get why Lucas didn’t like that. Like getting stalked by a girl was the best thing that could ever happen in his life. He wanted to punch him so badly right now.

“Wait, wait.” Arthur slid in and pushed Basile to the side. “I don’t understand what’s going on. You’re my bro, but what’s going on in your head? She’s into you, dude!”

The words Are any of you even hearing what am I’m saying?! were at the tip of his tongue, jumping to be screamed. He didn’t though. He bit the inside of his cheek and tasted blood. He held the words in. They weren’t listening to him. They were just letting his words pass over their heads. What use was it to clear it up? They weren’t hearing him.

So, he kept quiet and looked away. He swallowed the words pooling in his mouth, focused on the metallic taste flooding his mouth.

His phone rang and he had never been more thankful to have an excuse to get away from them.

He just couldn’t deal with them right now.

[hairringtonsteve]

i. under pressure [quixotic]

[steve harrington x reader (female)]

series summary: everyone that knew the truth about hawkins lab thought it was over, that it was all over. they thought that the fighting was over, the bad men were gone. the portal was closed. people were safe. you, however, you knew the truth. things were far from over. and they were coming fast.

word count: 6,046 words

a/n: hey folks! this is a repost of chapter one, which was posted a few months ago. tumblr messed up the post back then, so this is going to be posted in my new format -- which will have the links in the first reblog (which will be reblogged right after it’s posted) and the tag list as a separate post! also, be on the lookout for chapter two, being posted tomorrow! tw: language

“I promised that I’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Could you try a little harder, then? Because you kind of suck at this.” Just a minute ago, she’d pried off the metal lid of a Spaghettios can and had somehow folded it in half so she could use it as a spoon. She dipped her makeshift spoon into the can, precariously balancing a pile of canned noodles onto it and shoving it into her mouth. She said something, but it was muffled behind the food.

Some sauce dribbled down her chin and onto her shirt. It seemed almost impossible to keep from rolling your eyes, but somehow you managed.

“What was that, Tee? I couldn’t understand you around the food.” Tee glanced over to Seb, who had his head shoved in the refrigerator. He was standing on the tips of his toes, trying his hardest to reach something that was on the top shelf. When she made sure that he wasn’t looking, she set the can down on the kitchen table and shot you the finger. “Seriously, though, can you watch him?”

“Watch who?” Seb asked, poking his head out of the fridge. He gave you a bright grin, hair falling in front of his eyes. “Can I have pudding for lunch?” He stuck his tongue through the the gap between his two missing teeth in the front, waggling his eyebrows as though it’d help change your mind.

“You, kid. You can’t be trusted on your own. You could burn the place down or something.” His arm was sneaking back inside the refrigerator. “Oh, no. No pudding. You need real food for lunch.” He slammed the door shut and scowled at you. It would’ve been almost intimidating if he wasn’t just over three and a half feet tall.

“I wouldn’t burn it down. Tee would. I’d put it out.”

Tee smirked as she swallowed her food. “He’s got a point. What’s that word you used to call me?”

“Asshole?” Seb supplied as he crawled onto the chair next to Tee. You let out a cry of ‘language!’ but he just ignored you. “What’re you eating?” He wrinkled his brow as he leaned his arms onto the table, as if trying to read what the label said —like he could actually read. “Pasghettios?”

“Spaghettios. You want some?” Tee handed the can over to the five year old. His eyes lit up when he saw what was passing for a spoon. “Be careful with the lid,” she warned. Glancing back to you, she raised a brow. “So what was the word?”

“Pyro. You’re a pyro.” Your lips pressed together as you pinched the bridge of your nose. All you had to do was keep hold of your patience for a few more days, and the three of you would be free. But then Tee was opening her mouth to say something, and you felt like you were going to snap. “Can you just watch him? It should only take me a few hours.”

“No need to get touchy, God. It’s fine.” Seb tapped Tee on the arm to hand her back the can. You watched as he gave her the lid-turned-spoon as well. There was sauce all over his fingers.

You walked over to the sink to grab a hand-towel to run it under the faucet. “You guys do know that there are more spoons, right? And also more than one can of Spaghettios?”

“You do know that you don’t have to be an ass-”

“Tee.” Your voice was ragged as you almost groaned, the frustration obvious to anyone that was listening. You turned to her, frowning.

“We just wanted to see if we could eat it like this!” Seb piped up, looking between the two of you. “Like an experiment.”

He looked over to Tee, who was still glaring at you, and slowly reached over for the can. A tense second passed, and he started to eat once more.

“I’m just saying,” Tee started up, her arms crossed over her chest. “You kind of really suck right now.”

“Are you serious?” You tilted your head back and groaned. “After all the shit that I’ve done to make sure that your ass is alive, and this is what you give me? You can’t even agree to watch him for a few hours because you’re the asshole!”

“It’s like an experiment,” Seb mumbled to himself. He was focused solely on the food in front of him, as though he tuning everything else out. “I’m an experiment,” he added, grinning.

“Jesus, Seb. You’re not an experiment,” you snapped. louder and harder than you’d meant to. Your sharp words, accompanied by a scowl, made his grin drop. His face twisted up and got red. His lower lip trembled as he stood up from the table.

“You’re no fun anymore!” With that declaration, he practically ran into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

“He’s right, you know. You’re no fun anymore.” You turned to Tee, who was still scowling. “What? I’m just saying, no pudding for lunch and yelling at him? You’re practically begging for a meltdown.”

“Trust me, I’m not begging for — “ You could hear a shriek from the bedroom, and the shattering of glass. “Well, that’s great.”

“Look,” Tee said, standing up from the table. She walked over to the couch, where your backpack and a decent sized cardboard box were sitting. “You take this stuff into town and see what you can get for it and I’ll deal with Mr. Drama, okay?”

Another thud came from the door. “You sure that you can handle the tantrum?”

“I’ll be fine. Go.” Her tone was final. You headed over to the couch and slung the backpack full of records over your shoulders. The weight made you frown. Peaking into the box, you made sure that that was filled to the top with records as well. “Just get some good money for them. I’d like to eat food that’s not ‘pasghettios’.”

You let out a snort. “You know that there’s other food in the freezer, right?”

Tee scoffed. “Yeah, but it’s just a ton of Eggos. You can’t live off of Eggos.”

“Says you. Eggos are magic.” She let out a huff of laughter as you picked up the box, wincing at the weight. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. You headed towards the door, hesitating as Tee walked over to get it for you. It was hard to remember that she was only fifteen. Hell, you were only nineteen. Neither of you should have had to deal with any of this. Your frustration towards her weakened. “You’re sure you’re good?”

“I can handle this.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though.” The words were quiet, the closest that you’d get to an apology. Your expression softened as Tee opened the door. She was avoiding your gaze, focusing resolutely on a squirrel shuffling around for its acorns on the ground just beyond the porch.

“None of us should have to handle this.” Her words were quiet in the warm spring air. “But we’re stuck with it, so we might as well deal.” Finally she turned to face you. Her expression was blank, but her eyes were hard. She looked older than fifteen. Another yell could be heard from the bedroom. “You better head out before he burns the place to the ground.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

Your words did the trick. The corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile and she rolled her eyes.

“Just go so we can head out of here in the morning.” You gave a nod of your head before stepping outside, the air hitting you. It was humid, the dampness just hanging there. There was no wind, no break, just heat.

You stood on the porch, shifting the cardboard box in your arms until Tee closed and latched the door. A pang of anxiety shot through you. They’d be fine. It was only for a few hours. It took you a few moments, but you forced yourself down the steps. Town was a couple miles away, but there were a lot of woods that surrounded the cabin. They would be safe and hidden away — as long as they followed the rules. Stay inside, stay away from the windows, keep the curtains drawn, don’t answer the door unless the secret knock is given. You didn’t want to think about the last time that Tee had decided that she was above the rules.

The gunshots still rang in your ears.

That was the past, though. You shook your head as you traipsed through the brush. There was a dirt road that led to the cabin, so you followed along that, staying just beyond the treeline. It was around May, you figured. There shouldn’t be anyone out hunting.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the sweat starting to drip down your back. You swallowed, suddenly wishing that you’d thought to bring some water with you before you left. You'd even seen a water canteen hanging off a hook in the kitchen. At the very least, you’d have to nab that before you left. It’d come in handy even though the three of you were heading north.

Well, not just the three of you. All sixteen of you, really. Just because everyone was scattered, that didn’t mean that you weren’t all in it together. Everyone was just… On their own for awhile.

It had been the safest course of action, you knew that. Alex knew that too, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it then. He'd wanted everyone to stick together, that was all. It felt safer when everyone was together. From the time that you'd been born, it was always safer when you all were in the same room. You’d understood where he was coming from.

It was just hard to really think when everyone was huddled in the lab while there was still blood smeared along the windows.

“We can’t split up, we’ve got to stick together,” he’d said, giving you that imploring look. It was making you feel antsy, like you were going to crawl out of your skin.

“We can’t all make it to — you know where — together. We’d stick out too much. You saw what it was like outside. People don’t travel in groups that big.” Alex had scowled and shook his head. “You know that I’m right.” Without thinking about it, you narrowed your eyes, drawing upon that fear and anger within your chest.

Alex gave your shoulder a sharp shove. “Don’t try that Jedi mind trick bullshit on me. You know it won’t work.”

“You know that I’m right, though. We’ll be found easier. You told me yourself that you heard Doctor Lepner call for that, that… what’s it called?”

“Department for Defense, I think?”

“Exactly!” You jabbed your finger into his chest and scowled. “Do you really think that those people are going to be on our side? Do you really think that?”

Alex went to respond when he heard a guttural growl come from outside the lab doors. Everyone fell silent. Slowly, you turned your head to the thick metal doors, trying to see through the frosted glass. The silhouette of something awful crossed it. You looked over to Vee, who was trying to comfort Seb. He took in a shuddery breath before Tee slapped her hand over his mouth and wrapped her free arm around him.

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Glancing back to Alex, you paused at the expression on his face. Despite him being the oldest at twenty-two, he looked younger than you did at that moment. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he breathed.

“We can’t go all together.” A louder growl emanated from just beyond the doors. “It’ll be like Thanksgiving dinner if we do that.”

Alex let out a snort. The familiar sound gave you a tiny ounce of comfort. “You don’t even know what Thanksgiving is.”

“I know it’s got to do with food, which is what we’ll be if we don’t figure out what to do.”

A car roaring down the main road jarred you from your memories. You blinked, having been so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t realized just how far you’d walked. It drove on down the road, showing no signs that it had noticed you or cared if it had. You breathed out a sigh of relief. It took another two minutes for you to muster up the courage to leave the safety of the trees and to start walking down the side of the road.

It was hard work. The sun was beating down on your back. The box was growing heavier and heavier with each step. Christ, you really should’ve thought this one through.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed, but it seemed like no matter how long you walked, the town was still out of sight. You started wishing for a miracle when a car slowed down beside you.

“Hey kid, you need a ride?”

You turned around, squinting in the sun to get a good look at the vehicle. Your eyes flickered across the lettering along the side, the words letting fear settle into your stomach. You moved your attention to the man at the wheel. He had a small smile on his face and a kind of scraggly beard thing going on. You focused a little, reaching out just enough to get a read on him. It was difficult to focus that much when the sweat was literally dripping off of your face and your arms were wrapped around the box. But it was enough.

“Where you headed?” You asked, taking a step forward. You were close enough that you could just feel the blessed air conditioning.

“Into town. I can drop you off if you’re headed in.” It took you a second, but you gave a sharp nod of your head to answer him. “Throw the box in the back, then climb up front.”

It took you a few seconds to maneuver the box onto your knee and then open the backdoor without dropping anything, but you managed. Your arms ached with the sweet relief. Slamming the door shut, you practically leaped into the front seat once that door was open. The air was frigid and perfect, cold enough that it felt like it froze the sweat right on your face. You shut the door fast, and rolled the window up almost the instant it was shut. The backpack shoved against your back, making it so you couldn't sit back the whole way. You kept it on, though, just in case.

“So what’s in the box?” He asked as the car started forward.

“My grandpa’s records. My mom wants me to see what we can get for them.” The lie fell off of your tongue easily. The man nodded his head.

“Your grandpa got good taste?”

You shrugged. “I think there’s some Sinatra in there, and some Ella Fitzgerald?” You spoke like you were trying to remember what the records had said, but really, you were just trying to remember what some of the doctors had said when it came to music. Lush, green trees were a blur outside of the window. It was pretty.

If you weren’t in a cop car, you might have even been able to relax.

“Ah, so your grandpa was into the older stuff, then.”

“Uh, yeah. The older stuff.” You tried to wrack your brain for the years. Was Sinatra in the fifties? Or seventies? Or forties?

“My old man was into that jazz stuff.” Jazz! That’s what it was. The thirties and forties, then. “Really big into Benny Goodman. You ever hear of him?” You shook your head. “Oh, I bet you’d like him. He was great.”

The conversation drifted off after that. The two of you were content to sit there in the air conditioning, watching as the car finally started to enter town.

“You’re headed to the record store, right?”

“Um, yeah.” You’d been planning on going to the first pawn shop you saw, but a record store was even better. They’d be able to give you even more money if they were good records. And you’d made sure that the ones you’d picked were in pristine condition.

He took a left from the main road onto some smaller side road. There were plenty of shops with people bustling around. You blinked and for a split second, you weren’t in the police car; instead, you were in the back of a van looking out at the world around you for the first time while you were ten years old and handcuffed to the door. Another blink, and everything came back into focus. You turned to the man and stared at him. His mouth was moving.

“Huh?”

“I said, you need help carrying those inside?”

You shook your head so hard your hair flew into your face. “Nope, I’m good.” He pulled up in front of a storefront that read rebel records in all lowercase letters.

“You sure about that? I could help you bring them in. That backpack of yours looks pretty heavy.” He held your gaze in a way that made you shrink a little, like he knew that you were lying about something.

You reached towards the handle and hesitated. He was nice. He seemed like the kind of nice where you could tell him everything that had happened. The kind of nice that meant that he’d actually try to help you.

The kind of nice that would eventually get him killed if he did try to help you.

“No, I’m good. Thank you, though” You opened up the door and stepped out. The air hit you like a humid brick wall. It was almost enough to make you climb back into the car. But you took in a deep breath and closed the door behind you. When you grabbed the handle for the backdoor, it was so hot that you winced. “Fuck,” you mumbled, jerking your head up to make sure that no one was close enough to you to hear. You pulled it open, stealing all of the cold air that was leaking out.

“Hey, kid?” He called as you had an arm around the box. You looked up, your eyes meeting his. “If you need anything, you call the police department and ask for the sheriff, all right?”

“Okay.” You were shooting for a breezy tone, but it came out more shaky than anything else. The two of you regarded each other for a long moment before you tugged the box out fully. “Thanks again for the ride.”

You shut the door before he could respond.

Your head was pounding against your chest as you walked up onto the sidewalk and towards the shop. You were waiting for the inevitable, for him to get a call on his radio or to realize that the records were stolen or a hundred other things that could go wrong. But nothing happened. A few seconds passed, and the police officer drove off while you heaved out a sigh of relief. Things were fine. Hell, they might have even been looking up in your favor. You stepped over to the door, tightening your grip on the box with one arm while the other loosened up enough for you to get the door open, sliding in just before it shut behind you.

The record shop was old and dusty. Notes drifted from out of a record player that was behind the counter. You scrunched up your nose a little as you tried to place it. It sounded just familiar enough, like you’d heard it a few times in the background while you were driving from one place or another.

Doctor Arayed had always liked listening to music while she worked. She’d always be humming softly as she looked over blood samples, or when she’d push back the hair from your eyes. You could remember her always telling you the artists. Your favorite was always —

“Bowie?”

You blinked. A blond-haired man was standing in front of you, eyebrows raised. He was behind the counter, his forearms leaning on it as he shot you a small smirk. He was cocky, the sheer confidence coming off of him almost like a stench.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked as you walked towards him, frowning a little.

“Bowie, that’s who’s playing. You like him?”

“Uh, yeah. I like him. He’s alright.” You set the box of records on the counter, heaving out a sigh as the man continued on.

“He’s a legend. You looking to buy any albums of his?” He leaned forward, his smirk growing. You could feel it, the way he was almost pushing the charm out of himself. It was impressive. He must’ve made decent money.

“I’m selling, actually. If you couldn’t tell by the box of records.”

He raised a brow. “Really? What've you got, sweetheart?” Someone let out a snort to your left. Glancing over, you paused.

He was behind a rack of records. You could only see him from his waist up, but he looked like he owned the place. Perfectly messy hair, a dark gray t-shirt hanging off of his shoulders like it was made for him, and a small smirk that made your heart stutter. He glanced up from the record that was in his hands and locked eyes with you. His smirk shifted into a smile.

You looked away, back to mullet-man.

“I don't know, really. They were my grandpa’s.” You slung your backpack around and set it on the ground, your shoulders and back practically singing at the freedom. Crouching down, you braced yourself as you unzipped the bag. Just sell the records, and get back to the cabin. Easy-peasy.

It took you a few seconds of trying to tug them out before giving up and just setting the whole bag on the counter beside the box. “My mom wanted to see what I could get for them.”

He reached out for them, pausing just above the bag as he glanced to you. You nodded your head, effectively giving him permission to just shove his hands in there. The records didn't have any names that you recognized, but then again, you were bad at recognizing names when it came to music.

He pulled them out one by one, turning them around in his hands. “These all play?”

“Yeah, I tried them all out myself.” Your words came out too fast, and your heart gave a little jolt as he looked up at you. His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something when you narrowed your eyes. You concentrated, that familiar feeling swelling in your chest. “They’re fine.”

“They’re fine,” he parroted, shooting you a grin. He looked back down to the albums, thumbing through them a little faster. They were fine, after all. “So these look — your nose is bleeding.” You froze and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. When you pulled it away, dark liquid was smeared across. “Here.” You looked back across the counter and took the tissue from him.

“Thanks,” you said as you dabbed at the area. “The air’s pretty dry in here. It’s killing my nose.”

“Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass during the winter. Right now’s not too bad, though.”

“So, how much do you think that you can give me for the records?”

He shrugged. “Twenty bucks sound good to you?”

“Twenty dollars, are you kidding me? That’s less than a buck a record!” There were at least thirty-five or forty records there. That was ridiculous.

“They’re used, though. New ones are sold for nine bucks.I can go twenty-five, but that’s it.” You blinked.

“I need at least fifty.”

“Fifty dollars, are you shitting me? That’s insane. Look, I’ll go twenty-seven, but that’s as high as I can go.”

The boy with the perfect hair fumbled with some records, reminding you that he was there. You glanced over, noting that he was watching the exchange curiously. The tissue was still in your hand. You took care to lower your voice and said, “Please. I need fifty. I’m begging you.”

“No way, sweetheart. That’s too high. I’m gonna give you the best deal around, so take it or leave it.” What an asshole. You leaned forward a little, placing your left hand on his arm so it was behind the pile of records, just out of the other guy’s sight.

You focused, feeling the power rising up into your chest. “They’re in good condition,” you murmured, the force of your words coming out strong. “You’ll do fifty dollars.” A thought occurred to you. “And you’ll keep your voice low.” He blinked his head a few times, looking from your hand on his arm to the pile of records and then finally back to your face.

“You know what? They’re in pretty good condition,” he said. He was quiet, thank God. “I can do fifty.” You pulled away from him and he shook his head a little before shooting you a blinding smile. He’d be kind of cute without the rat’s nest of a mullet.

“Oh wow, thank you. Seriously. That’s a huge help.” Reaching up, you wiped the fresh blood away from your nose. Your head ached a little. Some food would be a good idea.

“No problem. I’m Billy, by the way. Billy Hargrove.” He shot you another smile, his gaze flickering over you in a way that made you duck your head.

“I’m Elise. Elise Peters.” In that instant, you were thankful that the three of you had decided on fake names before getting to Hawkins. Granted, no one would really believe that the three of you were siblings, but it was better than nothing. You grabbed the now empty backpack and slung it over your shoulders. Billy was rifling through the cash register, softly counting the bills out loud until he had the right amount.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Elise,” he said, shooting you a grin while holding out the money. When you took it from him, he made sure to brush his fingers against yours.

It took all you had in you to keep from rolling your eyes.

“You too, Billy.”

With that you were heading towards the door. You risked another glance over to the guy with the hair, feeling your heart stutter a little more when you locked eyes with him. It took you a beat to pull your gaze away and step out into the hot spring air.

Meanwhile, Steve turned to Billy, eyebrows raised while he waited for the girl to leave before speaking. “You ever seen her around before?” He asked. Billy just shrugged as he thumbed through the new acquisitions. “What’d you give her for those?”

Billy shrugged again. “Fifty.”

“Fifty dollars? Are you kidding me? That’s insane.” He walked over and started going through the pile that Billy had already made. The more he went through them, the more in shock he was. “Dude, you’re gonna get fired. There’s no way Jenkins is gonna keep you on after this.”

“Oh, that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it, Stevie? I get fired and you can work here in peace.” Billy watched as Steve’s hands stilled as he stared down at a record. “What?”

“Holy shit, you are fucked.”

“... What?”

“You do know that she just sold you stolen records, right?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at Billy.

“I’m pretty sure that I would’ve noticed if she was selling me stolen records. Fuck off, Harrington.”

Steve flipped over the album that was on top of the pile and pointed to some scrawled letters in black marker. “J. Hopper. She look like the sheriff to you, dumbass?” Just to really drive it home, Steve turned the cardboard box around to show him the same lettering. Billy’s face paled as he stared at the box.

“Fuck, I’m fucked. I gave her a decent amount too. Shit, do you think that Hopper will be able to get the money back?” All Billy got was a stare instead of a response. “What? Do you think that he’ll be able to get it back?”

“Do you think that Hopper will be able to get the money that you gave to some girl from out of town that stole his records to you — even though they have his name on them?”

Billy let out a groan and clapped his hand over his face. “I’m screwed. I’m absolutely screwed.”

“Maybe if you would’ve actually learned how to read, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Billy stared at Steve for a few moments before letting his forehead hit the counter. “Der urr thint thut yer culd-”

“You gotta lift your head up, man. I can't understand what you're saying.” Billy lifted his head up nice and slow, fixing Steve with a frown.

“Do you think that you could tell Hopper for me? It'll sound better coming from the golden boy.”

“Why would I do that for you? Give me one good reason for why the hell I would ever do that for you.”

“Because last summer I saved your ass from one of those demogorgon things.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You can’t keep bringing that up. It’s not like you just get to reuse that excuse over and over again.”

“Oh, well then next time, I’ll let it eat you, nice and slow. How’s that sound, Harrington?” Billy shot him a smug smile, like he had him.

“Better than being near you, Hargrove.”

Billy’s smile dropped. He ran a hand over his face and let out a shuddered breath. “Steve, seriously, I need this job. I don’t know — I have no idea how I missed Hopper’s writing, or why the fuck I sold them to her for that much. I just… I’m screwed if I get fired. Can you help me get the money back?” He asked as the door opened up.

“What, you sold my records already, Mr. Hargrove?”

Hopper’s voice carried across the room, loud enough to make both boys jump. “You — they — you know?” Billy asked, almost like he was going to start babbling apologies.

“Of course I know. I saw her walking along the road with a box that had my name plastered along the side. I can read, I’m not an idiot.” Steve snickered. “I even gave her a ride here. Thought she might come clean.”

Billy was fidgeting behind the counter, enough that it caught Steve’s attention. “So what are you gonna do?” He asked, hoping it’d put Billy at ease.

“Head back up to the cabin and see if she’s staying out there. They’re all the ones I left behind, so I figured that that’s where she’s at.” Hopper walked over to the counter, looking over the records. “How much you give her for them?”

“... Fifty.”

“You don’t know shit about music, do you, kid?” Billy opened his mouth to argue with the sheriff, but his shoulders drooped. “Don’t worry about it, kid. We’ve all been duped by a girl with a pretty face.” He looked over to Steve and nodded to the door. “I thought I heard Dustin say that your shift ends at three?”

“Yeah, as long as it’s not busy.”

Hopper gave a pointed look around the empty store — save for the three of them — and turned to the clock. “It’s ten ‘til now. I think Hargrove here can handle things while you come with me.”

“Why do you need me, though?” Steve ran his fingers through his hair, his lips pressed together into a thin line.

“She looks to be about your age. I figure it might make her easier to talk to if someone her age is there.” Billy opened his mouth to ask the inevitable question, but Hopper beat him to the punch. “You’re not coming for a whole lot of reasons, but the biggest one is that you still have to work.”

“Look, I don’t care who goes. I just need that money back.”

Hopper took a long look at Billy, his gaze easing up just a little. “You’ll get it back, don’t worry about it.” He started for the door, Steve following after him. They remained quiet until they got into the car, with Steve breaking the silence.

“So did you ever look into what I said, about Max and Billy’s dad?”

Hopped nodded his head as he turned the key, the engine rumbling to life. “Yeah, but nothing panned out. Domestic abuse is hard to pin down. Joyce just makes sure that Max is somewhere other than home for the most of the time. That’s about all I can do for now.”

Steve let out a quiet hum. “So we’re heading to the cabin?”

“To the cabin.

Some nice older lady had given you a ride close to where the dirt road leading up to the cabin was. You’d had her drop you off about a half mile down the main road, at some random house just to make sure that she wouldn’t think anything of it.

She’d been nice. A little nosey, but nice all the same.

You did the same as before, keeping just beyond the treeline so you’d be out of sight if anyone drove up there. But the cabin had looked like it had been empty for months when you’d gotten there two nights ago. Dust had covered everything. The lights had taken a few seconds to come on. Most of it was empty anyway. There were some cardboard boxes filled with stuff, like someone had started to move but never fully finished. The pantry and freezer had been stocked, though. There was even some stuff in the refrigerator. Thinking back on it, it’s a good thing that Seb hadn’t eaten that pudding. Who knows how old it could have been?

Just like earlier, the roar of an engine pulled you from your thoughts. But this one made you freeze.

The same car that had given you a ride into town earlier was driving up the dirt road. It was going a little too fast for you to make out who was in it, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.

You started running straight through the bramble patches, the thorns tearing at the exposed skin on your arms, a few getting your face as well. The sting was sharp, but you kept going. Your breath was coming out in pants as you jumped over a fallen long. Your foot caught on the branch, making you trip and hit the ground hard.

“Fuck,” you muttered, changing tactics. You got up and ran to the left, towards the dirt road. The second you broke through the trees you turned to head up it. You pushed yourself through the ache in your legs, through the pain in your arms and face until you saw the car parked in front of the cabin.

You couldn’t breathe. You could hear a muffled yell, and then Tee’s voice. It was impossible to make out what she was saying, but the closer you got, the clearer it was. The curtains were drawn open, like they’d been looking out the window. You could make out two imposing figures near them, but neither of them were near the door.

Launching yourself onto the porch, you ran inside, skidding to a stop when you saw the scene that stretched out before you.

Seb and Tee were backed up against the wall, eyes wide. Seb had tears running down his cheeks while Tee had her arms around him, protective and ready to lash out the second anyone moved. The cop from earlier was there, his hands held out in front of him. The guy with the perfect hair was there too, just behind the cop. You were pretty sure that the cop was saying something, but it was hard to tell with the dull roar sounding in your ears.

You couldn’t think of what to do. You looked back over to Seb, whose whole body was trembling. But then you saw something even more concerning.

His nose was bleeding.

please reblog/like/comment/send me an ask with your thoughts! 

[hockeyfun]

Alex Galchenyuk #1.3

Warning’s: yelling at another girl, kissing, sexual tension

Word count: 1917

Author’s note: Italicized font means they speaking Russian

Alexander Galchenyuk #1 | 1.2 | 1.3

You eventually walked back into the room and Alex felt like the world stopped. You were trying your best to not show your emotions, but Alex saw it. Briefly your eyes wondered to him but just for a second. You were quick to divert your gaze. He didn’t understand what was going on in his head. His emotions for you didn’t necessarily change but it was like all the sudden he understood them. He had feelings for you too. With this new realization Alex was rejuvenated to talk to you. He was ready to confess his true feelings. He made a B-line straight for you. In your side vision you saw Alex making his way towards you. You honestly didn’t feel like dealing with your best friend, so you moved yourself deeper into the mass of his friends. You saw Nikita in the corner and practically ran to him. “Nikita,” you called out. He turned towards you in surprise. He gave you a warm smile. He looked around you like he was expecting someone else to be with you, “Where is Alex,” he asked. You wanted to roll your eyes at him but forced yourself not to. “I don’t know,” you responded solemnly. Nikita gave a look like he just put together a math problem, “It’s funny, I’ve never seen a friendship like the two of you. You two could be across the room from each other but you’re never not paying attention to one another. It’s like when one of you moves the other person moves. When one is upset the other can feel it from miles away,” he explained. Your heart was racing at his words, “your point?” He looked at you like he knew you knew, “My point is that isn’t a friendship. That’s deeper, and you can’t hide from Alex for too long,” he finished right as Alexander came up right behind you. He placed his hand on the small of your back, “Nikita,” he acknowledged. “Can we talk?” he whispered in your ear. You plastered a fake smile on and looked at your best friend, “What could we possibly have to talk about?” He wanted to roll his eyes at you being petty, “Please,” he begged. You didn’t want to but the look in his eyes made you nod your head in agreement. You began to follow him back to another room when Kara came up to Alex. “Alex, look how cute we look in my Instagram picture,” she shoved the phone in both of your faces. She was right they did look cute in her post, and it pained you to see it. You looked anywhere else but the photo. Alex barely looked at the photo, but he was staring at you and seeing how it affected you, He didn’t want you to think him and Kara actually had something going on. He wanted to be with you. “We should go out and celebrate your birthday at the club,” she told him. “I can’t, I think I should spend some time with my friend.” You looked at him a bit startled, but your bitterness and passive aggressiveness was coming out. “I think we should go. It would be a lot of fun, and I wouldn’t want to take you away from Kara,” jealousy seeped through your words. Alex gave you an angered look. Kara clapped her hands in glee.

The rest of the party you avoided Alex and instead you got to know many of his friends you didn’t know before. As the party began to die out you made sure you were a good host and said goodbye to each person and walked them to the door. You began to clean up the more people left. Eventually all those that were left was everyone who was going to the club. You decided it was a good time to change and get ready.

You were lucky you brought your suit case with you when you came to Alex’s this morning. You put on a spaghetti strapped tight black dress, it was something simple but showed you off. You then put on a simple choker necklace and did your makeup a bit smoky. You were ready to go. When you walked out to the now almost dead party Alex was sitting on the couch with a drink in his hand. When he saw you, his heart quickened. You looked amazing, all he wanted to do was run his hands all over your body and kiss you till his lips were raw. You caught his eyes staring at you and instantly you turned away feeling self-conscious. Kara sitting right next to Alex felt herself growing protective. “You’ve got to have a few shots before we go out,” she commanded of you. You didn’t even have enough time to answer as she dragged you away from Alex and towards where the alcohol was. You decided not to fight it and go with it. You took two shots of some Russian vodka that was in Alex’s collection. You weren’t drunk, but you were tipsy by the time you left. You sat right between Alex and Anna in the uber. Where your leg touched Alex’s burned. You felt him lean close to you, “You look beautiful,” he whispered. You were lucky for the dark car because if it was light out he’d be able to see the blush on your cheeks and the goose bumps that formed all over your body.

You practically jumped out of the car to get away from the sexual tension you had towards Alex. Anna dragged you away from the rest of the group. “We are getting drinks,” she said. You giggled at her even though it wasn’t that funny, just the lovely effects of alcohol on you. You both had downed a shot of tequila by the time the rest of the group had found you and you were feeling good. You weren’t one to get drunk a lot, so when you did Alex loved it. When he saw you giggling with Anna he let out a hearty chuckle. You were always ready to party and socialize after drinking, so when a handsome man came up to you and Anna, you invited him in with ease. Alex was currently talking to Kara, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from you talking to that guy. You looked interested and that scared Alex. Kara was trying hard to regain Alex’s attention. She was getting more and more impatient which caused her to be more and more annoying to Alex. You enjoyed the conversation with the man in front of you, but your eyes wondered to Alex in conversation with Kara. He looked like he was paying attention to Kara, but his hand went up to his earlobe and tugged on it slightly. You rolled your eyes at your best friend. You looked at the man in front of you and let out a what-could have-been sigh, “it was a pleasure talking to you, but I need to check on my friend,” you told him. You brushed your hair back and began your rescue mission. You walked up behind Kara and pushed your way between them. “Alex, I need you to dance with me, see that man over there he keeps trying to hit on me,” you lied while pointing to the nice man you just left. Alex played along, “of course, sorry Kara,” he called out as he followed you to the dance floor. “Smart thinking!” He hollered at you. You rolled your eyes at him, “you owe me! That guy was hot,” you yelled at him as you started swaying your hips. He rolled his eyes at you. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “can we talk now?” He asked. “Can’t we just dance?” you asked as you laced your fingers through his and continued moving. You didn’t want to deal with Alex drama. “We can do both,” he pulled you in closer to him. “Alex, we don’t have to talk about what happened earlier. I’m over it. Don’t worry.” You could see the frustration growing on his face. “No, that’s not what I want to talk about, but I’m sorry for that,” he began. “Alex,” you interrupted and continued, “it doesn’t matter anymore. You and I are cool. Whatever you have to say it’s fine. Let’s just enjoy right now.” He increasingly got more frustrated, so you tried to diffuse the situation. “Alex, I freaked out earlier. It’s not that big of a deal if you don’t see us as a couple. We are just best frien…” you were interrupted by Alex’s lips on yours. It took you a moment to realize what’s going on but the moment you did it was intense. You closed your eyes and grabbed him by his shirt pulling him closer to you. His beard tickled your lips and chin. You moved one of your hands to his neck and tried to pull him even closer. He placed his hands all over your body. Squeezing and tugging your body closer to him. It was the sexiest and most passionate kiss you had ever had with a person. Every moment you were attached to Alex you felt like you were going to lit up in fire. When you pulled apart to breath, Alex attached his lips to your neck. You leaned your head back and released a low moan. Cold air hit where Alex was as he was pushed off of you by the one and only Kara. Your hormones and anger rose. You caught a quick glance of Alex. His beautiful blue eyes looked filled with emotions. Your adrenaline filled you and so did you anger. “What the hell do you think you are doing” Kara said to the both of you. “Kara,” Alex began lightly, “I’ve told you, that you and I aren’t together anymore.” She looked shocked at his telling, but it was fake. You had it with this girl. You rolled your eyes at her and decided to step in. You began slowly and angrily talking to her in Russian. Kara began to get confused and a little scared. You caught Alex staring at you in amusement. “Get it?” You asked her, knowing very well she didn’t. “What? What the hell?” She huffed out. “Oh right, only two out of the three of us can speak Russian. Let me translate it for you. I know Alex has told you multiple times and probably in the nicest way, but you two are over. And in normal circumstances I’d feel bad for you but frankly I’ve been waiting for this moment for a really long time and I’m not going to let some delusional hook up ruin it. This is my moment, so you need to leave,” you finished out of breath. She was shocked at your outbreak. “Well, you can have him anyway. He wasn’t even that good,” She retorted and ran away. You felt a little bad, but it was a long time coming. “That was hot,” Alex said, “I’ve never seen you lose your cool like that.” You shook your head as you still looked out towards where she ran off. You shrugged your shoulders, “She ruined my moment,” you said nonchalantly. He placed his finger under your chin and turned your head towards his. He was smiling, “our moment,” he corrected you and leaned in for another kiss.

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 9: big waves and muddy waters

Tuesday, October 9th, 1990

“Alright, New Guy, Mark heard that the Off Ramp needs a band for the 22nd. We doing this or what?”

God, Stone, way to be an asshole about it, but I’m excited enough by the idea that I’m not even going to give him shit. I just hope Eddie says yes. I mean, he’s technically still here “auditioning” for a few more days, but let’s face it, he’s amazing, we fucking need him. Thankfully, Eddie’s not fazed.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” he bobs his head, looking at Stone with laser focus and worrying his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. But just like that, his face clouds over and he’s looking down again with his forehead all screwed up. “That is, if you guys decide… I mean…”

“No, you're in, for sure,” I cut him off, and he shoots me a grateful grin.

“Alright,” he says eagerly. “So then, we’ve got like four songs, no name, and two weeks. I like those odds.”

Stone nods approvingly and launches into a logistical monologue, planning out the next two weeks of our lives down to the minute. The fact that Eddie won Stone over this fast is pretty mind-blowing, even if Stone’s still got kind of a shitty attitude about the guy. We spent today messing around with the song Eddie called “Once,” making it a little less funky, a little heavier to match what he’d written for it. And he’d already come up with lyrics for “E Ballad” before he flew out here, these insanely powerful lyrics, and started calling it “Black.” I’ve got a few melody ideas rattling around that I’m going to bounce off them tomorrow. It’s already been a crazy productive day or two and we’ve still got like a week left before he goes home for a few days to tie up loose ends. I gotta be honest, I’ve never been more pumped about a project. Stone and I seem to have shelved a lot of our shit from the Love Bone drama, and Eddie’s just like this incredible injection of creative energy. It’s hard not to get too excited, but in the back of my mind, there’s still this voice telling me to slow down, hang back, wait for the shoe to drop. That’s how it’s always worked for me so far, anyway.

Over Stone’s voice, I catch a snippet of Lucy and Cora’s conversation, even though they abandoned our table and are now over at the bar. It’s like my ears are trained to pick up Lucy’s voice now over anything else, like I went too long without talking to her and my senses are letting me know about it. They’re each drinking a beer and Cora’s got her back to me so I can see Lucy watching her face intently. It was something about the exasperation with which Lucy just said “what obligation?” that made me look up. I didn’t hear the rest of it, but I can hazard a guess, especially given the patient but strained look on Lucy’s face while she nods and listens to the answer, whatever it is. I don’t know how that fucker Alex managed to screw up tonight but I’ve lived down the hall from them long enough to know this kind of shit is the tip of the iceberg. I can’t for the life of me figure out why Cora puts up with him. She’s such a little spitfire. I’ll be honest, I sort of hated her when I first met her -- maybe hate’s a strong word, it’s not like when I first met Stone. That’s not too far off the mark, though. She’s like a female Stone, always with a smartass comment for everything, always has to be the smartest one in the room. But she’s grown on me a lot in the last few months. You have to be some kind of badass or other to pick up and move across the country and do the kind of work she does, with the kind of energy she has for it. And she’s so protective of Lucy it’s scary, which is what really won me over. So what’s someone like that doing worrying about “obligation” to a useless motherfucker like Alex who treats her like she doesn’t matter?

There’s a break in their conversation as Cora finishes the last of her drink. I catch Lucy’s eye and I’m immediately rewarded with that look. That one that says, “wait until we’re alone.”

Fuck yes. Forget the rest of this shit, let’s get this thing rolling, let’s get home!

Seriously. I’ve been with her for almost five months now and she’s still full of surprises. I let the shy thing fool me at first, but I get her now, or at least I think I do. And it’s not like the shyness is an act -- it’s genuine. She really is an awkward mess around people she doesn’t know very well (except Eddie, who’s even shyer, and she’s already sort of taken him under her wing, which makes her even more awesome). And no matter how comfortable she gets around me, I can still make her blush at the drop of a hat, which is completely fuckin’ adorable considering that the girl’s a total freak. Under that shy exterior, under all that sweetness and light… the sex is intense. And she’s got all these tattoos, which totally disrupt that whole good girl vibe she has going, especially since you don’t even know most of them are there until she takes her clothes off. Seven, to be exact. I’ve traced them all with my fingers, studied them up close, sketched them endlessly, admired the artistry, but mostly I get distracted admiring the canvas…

Fuck, I need to get her alone. 

But I gotta get Eddie back up to the apartment first, I still haven't given him a key and I don’t have my spare. I put some cash on the table to pay for Lucy and me as the guys are divvying up the bill, and manage to slip away as Stone and Mike argue about the math.

“Hey, you two ready to go?” I ask the girls, hoping my voice sounds pretty level. Lucy’s toned down the look a little bit, but not nearly enough to be inconspicuous (bless her tipsy cute ass), and Cora gets the hint right away.

“Let me visit the little chemist’s room and then yeah,” Cora stifles a grin and ducks down the hallway to the bathroom. I grab my girlfriend by the hand and start tugging her outside.

“What about the rest of our stray pets?” Lucy laughs, pretending to drag her heels.

I give her a gentle pull and she loses her balance, running into my chest, which makes it easier for me to say softly in her ear, “you think I give a fuck?”

There’s the look again. She lets me lead her outside onto the sidewalk. Once we’re alone outside, she primly tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and gives me the world’s most innocent smile as I pull her in closer.

“That’s better,” I whisper, brushing the softness of her cheek with the back of my hand. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Mm hmm,” she nods, sliding her hands into my back pockets and sinking into me, taking my lower lip in her teeth and making me come after it.

***

I get back from the bathroom and find the group milling about near the door of the cafe. Well, most of the group -- Stone and Mike are talking shop, Eddie’s standing off to the side studying his sneakers, and Jeff and Lucy are… outside on the sidewalk, glued together at the mouth, of course. God, they’re fucking adorable. Normally their cuteness makes me happy, but the way my night’s going, it’s getting under my skin. Not like that’s not their fault, though, so I’m kind of glad they’re outside. I’m already glazing over listening to the two guitar nerds, so if we’re all just standing around aimlessly, I’d rather get to know the new guy better. We’ve really only talked for a few minutes so far about my stupid button, and in record time I’d made an embarrassing ass of myself by oversharing my problems. The poor thing. He handled it well, though.

“You look lost,” I tease him, but I instantly regret my word choice, because he really does.

“Nah, I’m okay, just waiting for Jeff,” he says to the floor with a bashful smile, hands shoved in his pockets. It’s an odd smile, the way it dawns sort of slowly, but those outsized cheekbones make for massive dimples that give him away even if he’s barely smiling at all.

“I think we’re going to have to crash that party, bud,” I laugh, glancing at our friends.

“Ahhh, uh-uh,” Eddie rumbles, shaking his head emphatically, smiling a little bigger but still looking down. He’s the funniest thing. Shoulders hunched over in his too-big jacket, head ducked down in his backwards baseball cap, like he's incognito and doesn't want anyone to notice him, let alone talk to him. How is a frontman so damn shy? I listened to his tape with Lucy and the guys when it arrived over the summer, and like everyone else, I was dumbstruck by this huge, powerful, intense voice. I don’t know what I expected him to be like, but it’s safe to say I figured he’d be more intense in person as well. And, I don’t know, taller or something? Not like I’m one to talk. Before I can think of anything else to say to him, Stone walks up behind me and interrupts my thoughts with a hand on my back.

“Hey, Red, I’m heading out. You guys gonna get home okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” I lean back against him and bump him in the chest with my shoulder blade. “I think we can handle six blocks without a chaperone.”

“Fine, be that way,” he says in my ear. I can't see his face from here but I can hear that eye roll a mile away. “Come get your shit out of my car?”

As he nudges me off his chest and I turn to face him, he brushes my hair back over my shoulder, then seems to change his mind, taking one lock back to the front again. He twirls it, gently tugs on it a couple times, allows his fingers slide through the ends as he lets it go. He’s been like this all night. Hovering, fussing, studying. I wish he wouldn’t. I feel like I’m under a microscope.

“Don't tell me what to do,” I retort, although truthfully I'm not in the mood to spar tonight, so I follow him obediently instead of launching my usual attacks. I’m too tired for that, and anyway, I still feel guilty as hell for interrupting the guys in the middle of their practice, even though Stone swore up and down that he didn't mind.

“That's not how this works, okay?”

I keep turning those words over in my head as we trail unnoticed past Jeff and Lucy and down the street to his car. Not how this works. The way he looked at me when he said it, like he was trying to pin me to the wall with his eyes to make sure I heard him. I’m not sure what brought that on, other than feeling sorry for his dumbass friend for getting herself into such a ridiculous situation. And it’s not that I’m not grateful that he dropped everything to help me. Of course I am, overwhelmingly so. It’s just that the whole thing was so fucking embarrassing that I’m not going to give him the opportunity to bring it up ever again.

“Your bag and your, uh… deer huntin’ finery,” he drawls the last two words in that stupid Southern accent he thinks he knows how to do as he holds out the awful orange bridesmaid dress, making me yank it out of his grip.

“Much obliged,” I grumble, not really in the mood.

“Hey, I...” he says, not quite in his normal voice but no longer in the ridiculous accent, and he reaches out and gently catches my arm in his hand before I can pull it all the way back. He frowns as he massages my elbow for a second, like he’s trying to buy time as he figures out what he’s supposed to say to his pitiful disaster of a friend. All he comes up with is, “hey, call me tomorrow, okay?”

I don’t know, maybe it’s not pity in his eyes...maybe it’s just concern, almost the same way he was looking at me back at the terminal. I know he’s asking me to tell him how it goes tonight. I wish he wouldn’t do that. It’s making my stomach do a backflip as I realize I can’t ignore the reality of going home for much longer.

I reach up with my free hand and hold his cheek, then lean in and give him an exaggerated reflection of the intense expression on his face. His laughter comes out in an exasperated huff, followed by another eye roll.

“Yeah. I will, Stone.”

I say I'll call him, but what would I really tell him? That when I get home, the evidence will confirm that my own boyfriend doesn’t give enough of a shit about me to remember when I’m flying back into town? That it was just a stupid fantasy to think he’d ever be the kind of guy who picks his partner up at the airport? That he may as well not even have noticed I was gone? That this doesn’t even surprise me anymore because the fault lines have been getting wider and wider since we moved to Seattle, and I’m afraid we don’t have anything in common anymore? That I think all of these things all the time and feel horrible about them, but I can’t ever bring myself to break up with him, even for something like what he did tonight, because as thoughtless as he can be sometimes, he still moved across the fucking country to be with me, to support my stupid dream? No one wants to hear that sob story. I’m not going to lay that on poor Stone. He did me a favor. I owe him one already. Best not make things worse.

“You’d better, Red,” he says, fidgeting with my hair one more time and starting to relax back into his usual smartass demeanor as we go back to the entrance of Cyclops, where Eddie and Mike have now joined Jeff and Lucy on the sidewalk. The lovebirds have finally acknowledged everyone else’s presence and Jeff looks like he’s trying and failing not to look at us like we’re the world’s biggest buzzkill. “You fuckers ready to go or what?”

“Not as ready as you fuckers,” Stone snickers before shouting in pain as Mike punches him in the arm.

We wave goodbye to Stone and Mike, and Jeff and Lucy set off down the sidewalk towards home, leaving Eddie and me to follow them. He gives me that small smile again. Well, not really me, it’s more like he’s smiling at his shoes again, but there’s no one else around so I assume it’s meant for me.

“So, uhm, can I follow you home, or what?” he mumbles through tight lips, his smile widening until he’s grinning kind of maniacally at the ground. Christ, he has the world's biggest dimples.

“Holy shit you were right, it's totally a pickup line,” I laugh, never having heard someone ask it of me before he did tonight, twice.

“Sure sounds like it,” he chuckles. “I mean, I think I know where I'm going, but I’ve only been there once and it was light out, so…”

“Ohh, you're staying with Jeff?” He nods. “Haha, yeah, come on. It's just a straight shot this way.”

We start walking after our friends, who are almost a block ahead of us now.

“So you live down the hall, right?”

“From Jeff? Yeah.”

“Cool,” he nods again, “neighbors.”

Definitely a man of few words. We walk in silence for a short while before I can think of something else to ask him that doesn't feel like I’m intruding on his meditative focus on the sidewalk. “So it sounds like it's going well, huh? Your audition, I mean. If you guys are already planning a show.”

“I think it's going fucking fantastically, yeah,” he says, finally looking up at me. His absurdly blue eyes are electrified all of a sudden. Oh. So there’s that intensity I heard on the tape. “In fact, I don't even really wanna stay at the apartment, I kind of just want to sleep at the studio again, you know? Not break the momentum?” He chews his lower lip and nods to himself.

“Yeah, it’s too bad you have to go back to San Diego so soon, what’s taking you back?”

“Oh, just work, promised I’d do a shift, and I could use the money for the move.”

“Where’s that?”

“Oh, uh, gas station. Graveyard shift.”

There’s that crazy grin again, and even though it’s still angled down at our feet, I feel myself returning it. It’s pretty infectious. “Night owl, huh?”

“Ahh,” he rumbles again, “just not much of a sleeper, really. You?”

“Same. Well, on the insomnia part. Definitely not a night owl though. I’m pretty much solar powered, except for lately.”

“Why, what’s happened lately?” He glances back up at me with a deep crease between his eyebrows and his fingers torturing his little soul patch.

Shit, Cora, he doesn’t want to hear more about your problems, why did you do that? He’s just being polite again, the poor thing. “Oh, uh, I’ve just been waking up a lot earlier than dawn the last couple months, so I guess the solar hypothesis is out the window.”

“Maybe, uhm, you’re just wired to be on a different time zone, ya know, it’s always sunrise somewhere,” he offers helpfully, his eyebrows tugging up in the middle, almost at a ninety-degree angle, his mouth curling into a tiny smile. It’s a total wiseass expression, challenging, which I didn’t expect from someone so shy, but it’s also warm and encouraging somehow.

“Great,” I laugh, “just drop me on a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and I’ll be all set.” Honestly, that would solve most of my shit anyway.

“Yeah okay, but you know I'm gonna have to follow you there too,” he chuckles before scowling downward again and stammering. “I mean, for the ocean part, uh, not like, for… not like I’d --”

“You looking to run away too?” I ask him carefully, trying to help him out of the hole he’s digging without laughing. “You just got here.”

“Nah,” he finally finds some actual words, “just, I really love surfing, so that’s pretty much my ideal right there.”

“Surfing? Oh, then we definitely have to run away, there’s not a lot of that in Seattle, bud.”

“Mmm,” he nods, looking thoughtful. “You ever tried it?”

“Nope. Even less of it in Appalachia, I’m afraid. And it always seemed like a pretty dude-heavy pastime.”

“Hey, now we gotta go!” he grins at me with that fierce light in his eyes again. “Somewhere way out in the Pacific, somewhere really warm. That’s where the big waves are. The Polynesians, man, they figured it all out in the first place, that’s where it started, and it used to be more egalitarian. See, the missionaries, they didn’t know what to make of all these naked people running around with surfboards, especially the women, so it kinda became a man’s game for too long after that. Which is bullshit. Anybody can surf. I’d teach you.”

Holy shit, there were more words in that one thought than he’s said all night. This guy really fucking loves surfing.

“Yeah, but like, not naked, though, right?” I tease him back.

“Sure, sure,” he shakes his head, “although if our island is somewhere warm then at least we don’t need wetsuits.”

“See, maybe you won’t…”

He shoots me a sideways grin with a cocked eyebrow.

“I get cold when it’s 75 degrees out,” I explain, “not to mention that being solar-powered is a pretty cruel feature when you’re this pale.” I hold out my hand and rotate it so he can witness my pallor and the ungodly number of freckles covering my skin.

“Yeah, true,” he nods again, thinking it over some more. “Well, we can build a hut, that’ll help keep you from roasting. Or I can put a hammock under some trees.” He gestures with his hand in front of where we’re walking, like he’s scoping out the perfect spot up ahead, and for a second it feels like I’m really somewhere in the South Pacific and not walking down 1st in the middle of the night.

“Well, the hammock idea beats the shit out of sitting in the sun long enough that my freckles finally run together into one continuous tan…”

“There’s a plan,” he grins. “So, okay, I’ll be out there surfing, you’ll be in the hammock. Whatcha doing in there?”

“Reading,” I say without skipping a beat. “Just reading and listening to the waves.”

“That sounds pretty perfect too. You can do that in Seattle, though… why the island?”

I think for a minute, trying to put this feeling into words. It’s an odd thing to be sharing with someone I just met, but then again, this whole conversation has been kind of odd, so fuck it. “Something about the idea of getting away from people. It’s like a reflex. Whenever things get too crazy or shit hits the fan, I just want to be in the least populated place I can find for a while. Somewhere off the grid, or at the very least, somewhere no one knows me, until things start to make sense again.” I look over at him and he’s watching me closely, nodding like he has some idea what I mean, so I go on, “like, uh, how does the Muddy Waters song go, ‘behind the sun’? That’s where I want to be. That’s home.”

He quirks an eyebrow at me and gives me the strangest expression, half smile, half scowl, and scratches the back of his neck. “Muddy Waters, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, suddenly wary, “what about him?”

“Didn’t take you for the Chicago blues type, is all. That’s awesome.”

“Well, same to you, Surfer Dude,” I tease him.

“Hey,” he holds up his hands, “I’m from Chicago, I’ve got seniority in this discussion.”

“You’re from Chicago?” Now I’m scowling at him. What the hell? I thought he was from California?

He opens his mouth to answer me, but we’ve just rounded the corner to the building and Jeff shouts out, “hey Eddie, we thought we lost you!”

“They did their level best to, anyway,” I mutter to Eddie out of the corner of my mouth, and he laughs as we close the distance. The closer I get to the building, the faster I want to run away. The light’s on in my living room. I don’t know where the fuck Alex was, but at least now I know where he is. That island in the Pacific sounds better with every step. Is it crazy that I want to grab this Eddie guy by the shirt and ask him to come find one with me right now? Yes. Yes, that’s crazy. Stop it, get a grip.

We’re mostly silent as we head up the stairs, until Lucy pauses in her hallway on the third floor and peers at me with concerned but not totally sober eyes. “Cora, you good?”

Am I that obvious? I love you more than life, Luce, but I don’t need another mother hen, I just need to get home and rip this band-aid off, please stop reminding me. “Yeah, yeah, totally. I’ll call you.” I hope my voice sounds convincing, but her expression doesn’t reassure me. Eddie’s watching everything quietly, which seems to be his default mode, and Jeff’s only got eyes for Lucy, although she’s still frowning at me.

“Yeah,” she says, idly lacing her fingers in Jeff’s as he tries to get her attention.

“Okay, so let me just get Ed set up upstairs, and then I’ll come down in a bit?” Jeff asks her quietly, looking at her like leaving her a flight of stairs behind is the absolute last thing he’d like to do.

“No, man, uh, I remember where it is, if you just toss me your key, it’s cool,” Eddie stammers, shaking his head.

“I think I can herd him to the right door, Jeff,” I manage a small smile in Eddie’s direction and then glance back to Jeff, who’s looking at both of us with his face awash in gratitude as he tosses Eddie his keys. He barely even mutters a “goodnight, guys!” before ducking down the hallway after Lucy.

Eddie and I don’t say anything else as we continue up the stairs. I don’t know how much the guys told him about what happened, or how much he put together, and I’m afraid that opening my mouth at all will lead to more of my bullshit problems pouring out, and this poor new kid doesn’t need any more of that tonight. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind the silence, which only strengthens his application for deserted island companion.

“Right, so uhm, this is me,” I say numbly in front of my own door, “and Jeff’s that one down there. You all set?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he nods, but now he’s giving me the same narrowed-eye look everyone else has had all night long. Oh, please, not you too. “Uhm, you need anything? Just, uh, let me know, okay? ...neighbors, right?” He chews his bottom lip as he squints at me.

“Right.” I try one more time for a smile but I think it’s more like a grimace as I wave at him, swallow hard, and go inside, almost afraid to keep my eyes open while I walk in my own door.

But I do, and I see Alex, stretched out on our couch, eyes closed, a mostly empty beer bottle on the rug and his beat-up copy of The End of Eternity folded open on his chest. He’s asleep. Or he was, until just a second ago, and now he’s staring at me like I’m Banquo’s ghost as I close the door behind me. I don’t even know what to say, but he spares me the necessity of having to come up with something.

“Babe! What are you doing here?” he yelps. He jumps up, oblivious to the fact that he’s just kicked the dregs of his beer over as he bounds over to me, rubbing his mouth aggressively with one hand.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Oh look. I found some words.

“No, you’re -- you’re early, you came home early?” He stammers, the blood draining out of his face, taking me by the shoulders. “Wha -- is everything okay?”

“Early??”

“Yeah,” his voice breaks, coming out almost in a squeak, “your flight was tomorrow night, right? 6:15?”

“That was tonight, Alex,” I say slowly, fighting as hard as I can to keep my voice level. So he really did forget.

“No, no, hold on, I fucking swear, it was tomorrow…” he lets go of me and bounds to the kitchen table in two big steps, rifling through a small pile of receipts and mail until he pulls out a Post-It. “See, right here, United, arrives 6:15, October… ninth… FUCK!”

He rushes back over to me and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my god, Cora... babe... I’m so fucking sorry, I’m the biggest fucking idiot, I fucked it up, I’m so…”

I let him hold me, but it feels like my brain is two gears too low and struggling to put it all in place. He wrote it down right, but he still forgot? How does a person even do that? How little do I matter to you? Fuck, it’s somehow worse to get confirmation of the fears I’d been running from all night long than to keep pretending there was some other explanation.

“Hey, it was an honest mistake,” I say flatly as I mentally try to smooth out the bumps, make it all fit, make it all okay.

He pulls back far enough to get a look at my face. “You’re not mad? Wait a minute, how did you get back? Where’ve you been?” He glances at the clock on the wall. “Were you at SeaTac all this time?”

Where’ve I been? Did he really just ask me that?

“No, Stone picked me up when I couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“Well, I’ll have to thank him then.” Alex’s eyes narrowed just a tiny bit at the name, but he seems to have decided against his usual jealous bullshit, which is a good move right now.

“Yeah. Well, he said he didn’t mind.”

“That’s awfully good of him.” He rubs my back with one hand and kisses my forehead. I’m so not in the mood for this.

“Yeah. Look, I’m going to bed, it’s been a long day.”

I slip out of his grasp and give him a weak excuse for a smile, hoping it’s enough to end the conversation. He’s still looking like he’s seen a ghost, so he doesn’t fight me on it, and I duck down the hallway to our bedroom. “Night babe,” he calls tentatively down the hallway, and I hear a shaky sigh.

Jesus, he really knows he fucked up. The look on his face. I should probably go easier on him, but it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow. I just don’t have the fortitude right now to try to make him feel better about his mistake. I brush my teeth, get ready for bed, feeling totally numb and hoping for both our sakes that he stays out there in the living room until I can fall asleep. I just can’t take anymore tonight.

Under the covers, eyes closed, I try to drift away from it all. The fear that something terrible had happened to Alex, who, for all his faults, is the only man who’s ever actually loved me. The realization that nothing had happened, and that even the only man who’s ever actually loved me doesn’t even love me enough to think about me when I’m not around. The scrutiny from Stone, from Lucy, which feels like an extra weight to carry on top of it all. The look on Alex’s face that almost makes me feel sorry for him even though all I want to do is scream at him. All of it. I close my eyes and sink a little deeper, breathe a little slower, letting the warmth of the covers become the warmth of an island sun, the rhythm of my breath become the distant crashing of waves.

[seenashwrite]

SNIPED (Part One)

Status: Complete (Part 1 of 5) Word Count: 8.4K Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit for Adult Themes including - Graphic sexual situations; Mild-to-moderate violence; Coarse language Categories: Drama; Action; Romance; Porn-with-Plot; Smut; On-the-hunt Character(s): Dean; Sam; Reader/O.C. Female; Jody; Crowley [briefly]; Alex & Claire [mentioned]; Castiel [mentioned] Pairings: Dean x Reader/OC Female [Pts. 2 & 5]; Sam x Reader/OC Female [Pt. 3] Warning(s): See “Rating” section above Author’s Note(s): Post-story Overall Summary: The Winchesters receive assistance on their case from a sniper.

                 || SNIPED Master Post ||

Dean's face warped through a variety of expressions, then ended on a frown.

"WHAT?!" he mouthed at me.

I felt my eyes narrow into a glare as I mouthed the first string of curses that came to my mind in reply, then turned back to getting lined up, prepping for the target, not bothering to gauge his reaction.

I needed to focus.

He'd bumped me, again. Which had made me jostle the rifle. Again.

Focus.

Shutting one eye, I peered through the scope, stiffening up a bit as I locked into the mindset that made me so damn good. The wind had picked up a little more, so I mentally adjusted my earlier calculations. The target had already passed nearby once, but I didn't fire; it had been too agitated, too twitchy. I needed it casual. Perhaps even distracted. So I didn't begrudge the wind - it was probably stirring up the smell of the bait that had been tossed out after its earlier pass. Which is exactly what happened. I spotted movement just barely off to the right of what I could fully visualize through the scope.

Nice little beastie. Come on over. Get lazy and complacent.

Dean was close enough for me to hear when his stomach rumbled. I didn't move a muscle. I'd had more than that distracting me in the past, god knows.

It was beginning to pass through the crosshairs. The target may have changed, but the routine remained old hat. Just another notch on the proverbial belt. And I still repeated my first instructor's mantra in my mind every time.

At the ready.

Finger on trigger.

Breathe in.

Let out.

Now squeeze.

ZIP

Right through the cricoid. It stumbled backwards, hands reaching up to grab its throat. It didn't fall, stopped only by a thick bur oak. I'd loaned Sam my other earpiece. He was on the ground, amongst the trees. His voice came through to me sharply, just a single word:

"Wait."

I held up my hand to Dean, who was poised to run from our cover to meet up with him. I met his eye and subtly shook my head. Then I chambered another round, got back on the scope.

It had steadied itself, still gripping the wound with one hand, pushing away from the tree trunk with the other, but then it fell in a heap. Dean and Sam rushed it, arriving at almost the same time. I'd kept aim while they were en route, just in case. Soon I could hear in my ear that Sam was chanting something. Then Dean was impaling it with something.

And I was pulling my earpiece out. I let it hang on my shoulder as I slid my case closer. Sooner I broke the rifle down, sooner they could take me home. When they got back over to me, they were clearly filled with relief and pride.

"Man, I thought we'd never nail it!" Dean said.

I paused, looked up and over at him slowly, raising an eyebrow.

He bothered to look a touch chagrined. "Well, I mean, you, you technically--"

"Gotcha," I replied, popping the unused round and catching it, then tossing it to Sam. There was no risk of a detonation. They weren't my normal ammo.

"Thanks," he said, sticking it in his pocket. Then he said - "I mean, for all of it. Really. We couldn't have done this without you."

"You're welcome," I told him, now rushing through the breakdown, putting the parts back in my case carefully, but at lightning speed. "Not that tough of a shot."

"Uh, well, and I'm, um," Dean was trying to get out.

I kept packing.

"You know, earlier, I'm sorry about when I--"

I looked up again. "When you winged it after I specifically asked you not to bring your gun, and then we had to track it for five miles and I had to find a different little hidey-hole, even though that other one was damn near perfect, causing me to have to use a suppressor because we were so friggin' close?" I gave him a bright smile and batted my eyelashes, then let the smile - and the attention I was giving him - pointedly melt away before I looked back down, resuming my task.

"I'm gonna go pull the car closer," Dean muttered to Sam.

I knew how hateful I'd sounded, and I didn't care. He'd pissed me off. Jody had hooked us up for a reason: they needed a sniper. And Dean's attitude had not been subtle. It was clear how he felt about needing help from an outsider, especially from one who gave them direction on the best strategy to take out something that had stumped them for months. And maybe it was also because I didn't have a dick. Wouldn't be the first time, wouldn't be the last.

"No joke, I'm seriously sorry about all that," Sam said after Dean walked away.

I was seriously sorry I'd agreed to do it on the house, as a favor for Jody. I was also seriously sorry I hadn't brought my own car. Nice as Sam was, Dean was a real pill.

Sam handed me the earpiece he'd used and I stuck it in one of the zippered pockets on the side of my pants. I followed suit, removing mine the rest of the way and stowing it as well.

"Eh, don't sweat it," I told him. "Good job going ahead and making the subsonic versions of... whatever the hell was in those."

Sam nodded, and he seemed to appreciate my praise; at least one of them was capable of accepting my expertise and following instructions. I fastened the case closed, grabbed the handle and stood, bringing it up with me.

"Mmmm," I involuntarily muttered, raising my free hand to rub the back of my neck, frowning. I hated being reminded of how old I was getting.

Sam raised his eyebrows at me in a questioning manner and reached out. I nodded and let him take the case from me. We began to walk out of the woods. One pro that came out of the new vantage point - it was a shorter hike back to the main road.

"Not used to staying in the same position like that anymore," I volunteered after we'd gone a little ways in silence. I'd gotten so bad at making conversation. Jody kept encouraging me to practice. Just like I kept my skills sharp at the range, I had to keep the people skills sharp, too, she'd told me.

I hated her sometimes, with her absolutely accurate advice.

"I can imagine," Sam replied with a little chuckle. "I know it's not the same, but these legs don't exactly fold up in tight spaces."

I nodded. I was on the tall side for a woman, but goddamn. He was a mountain. A lifetime ago, I'd have daydreamed about scaling it. 

I was still doing mini-stretches, rolling my shoulders backwards and forwards, when we arrived at the Impala. Dean, to his credit, had the trunk open and ready to stow the rifle case. And he'd gotten out bottles of water, set them on the hood. Sam was putting the case away and Dean was sipping his own bottle of water when I reached up, pulled out the two ponytail holders it had taken to wind all my hair up into a tight bun, helping it loosen and separate with my other hand as it fell.

"Ppppfffft!"

Sam looked around the trunk lid and I jerked my head, both in the direction of the front of the car.

Dean had executed a movie-quality spit-take, now wiping residual moisture from his chin. He looked to me sheepishly. I felt myself just staring.

Yeah, the old shirt with patched elbows and holes at virtually all the seams, and the bulky cargo pants worn thin at the knees, all in camo, and the bonus of scuffed black combat boots to top it all off was suuuuper hot, I thought. I turned my head away, shaking it a little in annoyance, putting the ponytail holders on my wrist. Then I looked to my other wrist, flipped it, and saw the time. I cursed under my breath for what had to have been the eight-hundredth time since this never-ending godforsaken road trip had started.

By the time they got me back to Jody's to get my car, there was no way I'd be getting home anywhere near when I'd planned to. The mission was supposed to take us about a third of the way between Jody's place and theirs. Then we'd apparently missed that... thing... somewhere outside of Omaha, and now we'd ended up closer to Kansas than South Dakota. I had been with them going on two full days, tried to sleep as we drove through the night, listened to every syllable of every classic rock song that had ever been recorded, and I was done. Done. DONE. When I looked back up, Sam had clearly read me like a book, and he extended the only olive branch he had to offer.

"I'm getting in back this time," he told me, and since I could tell he really meant it, I nodded. He then moved to open the passenger side door for me, in the same attentive manner he'd had when taking the rifle. I have no idea what look crossed my face but he apparently read it accurately as well, because he slowly backed off, instead opening his own door and climbing in.

I went closer to the car, glancing quickly to the woods around us, up and down the road, checking our perimeter.

"Go ahead, hop in," Dean said, and I blinked a few times, coming out of my daze.

I looked across the roof at him and his faintly puzzled expression. "Habit," I said, then pulled on the handle and got into the car.

When we'd reached civilization, they stopped for food. In the drive-thru, Dean asked what I wanted.

"I'm good," I said.

"I mean it. Our treat."

"No thanks." I had been staring out the window and kept on doing so, opting to ignore Jody's advice. I wasn't in the mood to try and be charming and practice being a people person. Teamwork could suck it.

Dean kept quiet til reaching the speaker. Sam said his order, then Dean said his, and then the cashier said, "Will there be anything else?"

Dean reached over, gave the side of my thigh a tap with the back of his hand, and I looked over with an involuntary crease of my forehead at the touch.

"You're sure you don't--"

Before he'd even gotten the question out, I'd unsnapped one of my pants' bigger pockets, pulling out one of those chalky, disgusting, protein-and-carbo-packed bars coated in fake chocolate. Then I reached down and picked up my nearly empty water bottle. I shook both gently with raised eyebrows and a fake, closed-lip smile on my face.

Dean Winchester had a listening problem.

Now he was almost glaring when he informed me, "That's the last of the water."

We stared at each other.

"Large of whatever's first on the list," I told him, then tossed the bar onto the dash and returned the water bottle to where it had been on the floorboard, clamped between my boots. And as I was leaning back up, I heard him say:

"Please."

I sat up poker straight and turned my head to face Dean. We stared at each other again. If he thought I'd blink first, he was sorely mistaken.

The scratchy speaker came alive. "I'm sorry sir, I didn't catch that?"

Another moment passed. Sam leaned up and craned his head out the window again, telling them what I wanted. The total was given, followed by the standard request to pull around.

We were statue-still.

"Um, Dean," Sam began.

Dean kept locked onto my eyes, steady as a rock. He was good at this. Not 1200 meter kill shot good, but good.

"We can pull up now," Sam tried again.

Take your little victory, I thought, breaking the stare, sitting back and gazing out the window once more. "Please."

Only then did Dean pull around to the window.

They were munching as we drove down the road. I hated the smell of the onions. I loved the smell of the french fries. I hated being such a stubborn mule.

"So, we have a decision to make," Dean said through a partially chewed bite of his burger.

Was he actively trying to be gross?

He thankfully swallowed before continuing. "I'm not in the mood to drive all the way back to Jody's, then have to share a bed with Sam in her guest room," Dean began.

Okay. He was talking to me.

"I think the best thing to do is head to the bunker--"

I looked to him, aghast.

"--and we've got plenty of room, we can pick up a toothbrush for you when we stop to fill up--"

Did he not notice the big black bulky thing I'd thrown in the back floorboard when they picked me up? I was never not prepared. There was already a toothbrush in my backpack. And a change of clothes.

And a Glock.

"--then we'll all be fresh daisies, get you home tomorrow. Whaddya say, Snipes?"

Oh god. He'd nicknamed me. Had my letting him win a staring contest actually infused him with enough bravado to try and make friends? Convince me to stay in what Jody had described as essentially a really large basement? I felt my lower back start to lock up from the internalized stress.

"I need to get out," I abruptly announced, trying to lean at different angles to adjust my position.

"Do you need to pee?" Dean asked.

"Do I wha... what?!" I was practically crawling up the side of the door now, planting a hand on the back of the seat, trying to lift myself, get rid of the pressure.

"I mean, you drank all that water, and I haven't seen you pee all day, and--"

My eyebrows shot up. "You're tracking my bladder?" He looked at me like I was crazy.

"Are you crazy?" Dean asked in a gruff voice, confirming my thought. But he did seem to be obeying my request - well, my edict - as he was slowing, getting into the other lane. There were several gas stations up ahead.

The Impala had barely made it into the parking space when I threw open the door and started making my way down the side of the gas station. I wanted to get close to the wall so I could brace against it. Just in case.

But damn it to hell. Ten steps in, and I knew I'd screwed myself. I'd let the stress of the trip get to me, and it had balled up right in my weak spot. Prodded to life by what was totally my fault, and now the nerve pain had already started shooting down one of my legs.

"Walk it off, walk it off," I starting chanting to myself, before I started grinding my teeth; a particularly sharp stab and boom - my left knee wobbled, and I was still nowhere near the wall. My left forearm was suddenly gripped firmly, a similar grip now snaking around my waist, keeping me upright. "Shit," I breathed out, the pain distracting me out of pushing whoever it was away.

"What is it?"

Dean.

"Pinched nerve," I answered tersely. "Old injury." I leaned forward a little, trying to encourage him to move with me. He did.

"Does this not make it--"

"No," I cut him off. "Staying in one position too long does it. I need to move."

Dean let go of my forearm, only to grab my hand and pull it up and over his head, across his shoulders. He kept a tight hold on my waist, kept moving, even hoisting me a bit so I straightened up. He was just enough taller than me that it was uncomfortable; I moved my hand to the shoulder next to me, clenching onto it like it was salvation. I was fighting hard not to yelp, but little sounds were coming from my tightly pursed lips anyway.

"If I hadn't botched things up..." Dean said, then sighed.

I was concentrating too hard to ask if he wanted me to make him feel better about my feeling awful. For fuck's sake. I tilted my head away briefly as I rolled my eyes.

Sam came up beside us at a little jog, then slowed, matching our turtle pace. "Do I need to run in and get you aspirin or something?"

"Yes," Dean said, at the same time I said, "No."

"O... okay," Sam replied in an unsure tone.

"I have something in my backpack," I managed to say to him. Then, to Dean: "Pick up the pace a little?" 

Dean nodded, and did so.

"I'll go ahead and get gas," Sam said after trailing us for a minute or so. Dean handed him the keys and Sam left us to our slow journey around the building.

I could not stop wincing, but the pain was - thankfully - scaling back from a 12 on a scale of 1-to-10, to somewhere around a really angry 9.5; Dean must've noticed.

"It letting up a little?"

I nodded. We were around the back now, passing a dumpster when I spotted a door that caught my interest. I sighed. Then I slowed, and Dean did as well, til we came to a stop. I cut my eyes over to the door.

Dean followed my look, then a slow sort-of victorious grin came over his face as he read the lettering.

BATHROOM

"Congratulations," I said flatly.

He turned that grin on me, shrugged a little, saying, "It's not that I like being right, it's that I love being right."

"I know it's a pain in the ass, but if you could lean me somewhere and go grab the key--" I began, but he cut me off as he ushered me closer to the door.

"Not a problem," Dean said, propping me against the wall, then crouching, pulling something from his inside jacket pocket. Selecting two tiny tools, maybe forty-five seconds later and he was twisting the knob, opening the door. Dean looked up at me, now practically glowing with victory.

I felt the corners of my mouth twitch upwards before I could stop them. "Well damn, MacGyver," I said.

"You should see what I can do with chewed gum, an empty toilet paper roll, a coathanger and some kerosene," he replied as he straightened up.

I allowed myself a close-lipped chuckle, which was stupid, because it rattled my body and made me grimace. Dean's face went back to concern and he reached out for me, but I waved him off, forcing myself to get off the wall, grabbing onto the doorframe to keep steady.

Turned away from him now, I heard him say - "Will you be all right... I mean, do you not need help in there?"

"Why, you looking for an excuse to get my pants off?" I shot back without thinking, and immediately squeezed my eyes closed and cringed.

"No!" Dean answered, almost at a shout.

And for whatever reason, it offended me.

I grabbed onto the sink and turned as quickly as I could, causing a minor shock of pain, but it was worth it to let a scathing glare land on his pretty, arrogant face. "Shut the fucking door." 

Dean looked a little annoyed now, but he complied; I saw his shadow. 

"And go AWAY," I told him, lurching forward, planting a hand on the door for balance, clicking the lock as an added punctuation.

For the guy with the lockpicks.

"FINE!" he hollered through the door, and I listened to his boots clomp as he walked away.

I managed to get my pants and underwear down without too much trouble, and sat, still sore but more than that, relieved to be alone. Leaning forward, I let my elbows rest on my knees. The stretch felt heavenly. But I just didn't know how much longer I could tolerate being around Dean.

Looking at the crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

Hearing his voice.

The haircut. The mannerisms. The sound of his laugh.

It wasn't exactly the same, not at all really, but something about the overall effect... it was throwing me for a loop. Lots of loops. Consecutive lines of loops. I pulled my phone from my pocket, turned it on. A text was waiting from Jody: Let me know when it's done, I don't care what time, I want to hear you're safe. It only rang twice before I heard her voice.

Which is what made my eyes fill.

"Hey girlie, what's shaking?"

"Hey."

"Oh god, what did they do?"

One word. She knew me well, and she clearly knew them well. I snickered at Jody's dry tone. But the tears began to spill over on their own.

I wasn't crying really, they were just... an automatic bodily response, part of the package that came with the memories. Which is why I made it a point not to remember. Unless it was shoved in my face for days on end in a cramped car, then for hours in a makeshift sniper perch. I was tough, sure. But the universe was boning me. Hard. When I didn't reply right away, the silence followed by a sniffle, Jody spoke again.

"I wondered if I had imagined it, but I didn't, did I?" she asked me gently.

"Ah, no," I said with a little laugh, ripping off some toilet paper and blotting my wet cheeks. "No ma'am, you most certainly did not."

Jody sighed. "Oh, crap. What I'd give to be able to zap down there and zap you back home with me. Bundle you up with me and the girls, have a good old fashioned slumber party."

I smiled. That sounded like a real special level of hell. But I loved her for the sentiment. Then I looked down at my left hand. "It's still so weird. That groove being gone," I told her.

And of course, being Jody, she knew exactly what I was talking about. Just like she'd known, unlike my former co-workers or friends of my mother's, that trying to set me up on blind dates was the wrong move. Just like she'd known stupid platitudes like Time heals all wounds and It is better to have loved and lost, blah-blah-bullshit were lost on me. How she'd rescued me from countless, pointless interviews where I'd just be asked about my previous employment - she'd just hired me, plain and simple. Which allowed me to get the next job, which allowed me to have my current job, freelancing, mostly as an instructor for baby-faced private security recruits. Mostly.

I kept staring down at where the missing line would've been. It had started a retreat within a few weeks of taking off the ring. I'd thought that divot would be there til the grave. It only took four months for me to kill the sentimentality. That's what I did, killing efficiently. I had to get busy. Everything else went quicker - all his possessions, save the guns and associated tactical sundry, which were for need, not want. But seeing my wedding band constantly would stop me. Stop my progress. Removing it had still been the last step.

I tuned back in.

"Five years'll do that," Jody was saying to me softly. "Time just makes things fade. They don't really ever go away."

I knew. And I knew she knew, too. We'd been in the trench together, miles and years apart, but we were with each other on those days, hers and mine.

I sighed, shook myself out of it, brushed the last of the tears from under my eyes. Grabbing a wad of toilet paper, I wiped myself quickly, then leaned over, clutching my underwear with my free hand and ever-so-slowly eased up from the toilet, bringing them with me. No way was I going to stand up before I did it. I'd be damned if I let any part of my bare ass hit a roadside gas station's bathroom wall.

"Next time I see you, I want a little cheese to go with my whine," I told her, hoping she'd take the hint and let the mood change.

Of course she did. "So where are you now, Annie Oakley? What's the plan?"

I glanced down my body. "Currently my pants are around my ankles in a random bathroom just south of East Bumfuck, Nebraska."

A pause. "Copy that."

"And I'm formulating what maneuvers to employ to get them on before I get stuck in that loud-ass car again, heading in the direction of not you."

I could practically hear Jody roll her eyes. "They want you to just stay the night, don't they? Get back on the road tomorrow?"

"Yup."

Another pause. "What are you going to do?"

I thought this over, but only for a moment. I set my jaw. I squatted through another jolt of pain, then shot back up, yanking my pants all the way back to my waist. "Well, I figure since I just got my big girl panties back on, I'm headed to a Kansas bunker."

"Call me first thing tomorrow," Jody ordered, no room for discussion.

"Ten-four." Then, in a very un-me moment: "I love you, Jo."

"Love you back."

We hung up, and after I took a moment to button and zip, wash my hands and wipe my face with a damp paper towel, I was ready. The paper towel ball sailed over, going cleanly into the trash can. Nothing but net. If I believed in signs, then weak as that would've been, I'd have taken it. Most of the major kinks in my back seemed to be out, thanks in large part to Jody taking some of the weight off of it, but I still wanted to be sure, so I was moving very carefully and deliberately.

Dean was outside waiting, far down the wall, standing almost at the next corner of the building. He was leaning with his shoulder against the bricks, hands in pockets, toeing at gravel with the tip of a boot.

Stop it, I told myself. Lots of guys lean like that. It's not the same. It's not like him. Dean is not like him. He looked up when he heard the door, and I made myself stay neutral. No looking away, no friendly looks, no bitchy looks. Just keep it simple. Keep it simple. Keep it----

At my side now, Dean reached over, taking my hand and repeating the earlier routine, putting my arm back and up to grab his shoulder, wrapping his around my waist. We'd been in the woods for how long? And he still smelled good. The bastard.

Dean didn't speak, and neither did I, but I noticed him noticing my necklace; it had apparently slipped out from the collar of my shirt when I had leaned over as I talked to Jody. I knew I shouldn't have worn it into the woods, I knew it, I knew it.

I reached up and quickly stuffed the chain - and what hung from it - back into my shirt.

Dean looked straight ahead again, walking beside me without a word. It was... nice. The quiet. That he didn't feel the need to fill the space with stupid conversation, in spite of what I'd assessed to be a loud-mouthed nature. Maybe I'd figured him all wrong.

The car seemed miles away, now pulled up to the farthest pump from us, Sam standing beside it, filling it with gas.

"I, uh... I talked to Jody," I offered.

Dean didn't respond.

"I'm cool with staying at... coming back to..."

I saw him look over at me out of the corner of my eye.

"I just... probably a good idea for me to stretch out in the back seat," I finished. I glanced over at him briefly. "You know, for the rest of the drive."

Dean stayed silent; so I finally looked over at him, and found he was still looking at me.

"You're really hurting, aren't you?"

It took me aback. Something about the way he said it... I couldn't put my finger on it. But something was behind the question. I wasn't imagining it. I looked back at him for a moment, holding the gaze. "Yeah," I answered quietly.

A curt nod, then he returned to looking straight ahead, and I did the same. Neither of us spoke til we got to the car, where Sam was just finishing up.

"Feel better?" he asked me.

I shot him a little smile. "Nope." His hopeful face fell. I smiled a little wider at that reaction. Bless his long-legged heart. "I'm kidding. Yes, much. And, bonus - you get the front seat again."

Sam smiled back.

"Hang on," Dean told me as he released my waist, guiding me to a lean against the side of the back end of the car. He dropped into a squat, reaching out, moving the cuff of one of my pant legs up, tucking a little in the boot below it. Then he started untying the laces, loosening them all the way down before moving on to the other one. "Okay," he said when he finished, standing and opening the back door. He extended his arms in my direction, made a Come on motion with his hands.

I took them. They were so strong. Rough, calloused palms with soft, thick fingers.

I planned to drug myself to sleep. I wasn't going to make it. But no, uuuuggghh, I couldn't - the good stuff was at home. I'd only packed anti-inflammatories. That wouldn't do jack.

It's not Dean's fault, I kept telling myself. I was trying to be logical - he knew nothing about my life, I'd been such a bitch he had no reason to give a shit about my life... I needed to get hold of myself. I was a grown woman acting like a child. He was looking out for me despite how I'd behaved, and he didn't deserve to be treated poorly.

Period.

After easing into a lying position, I let out a moan of relief. Dean had taken a knee beside the open door while he'd removed my boots and helped me lift my legs up, so I could have my knees bent, socked feet planted by my ass, flattening my back into what I had to admit to myself was a seat padded to just the exact firmness I'd needed. Dean chuckled when he heard me. He placed my boots side-by-side in the floorboard. I watched as one after the other, he brought the long laces together, tied them in a quick slipknot so they wouldn't tangle, then dropped them behind the tongues, letting them dangle inside.

Fuck him for being thoughtful.

"Nice," he commented when he was done, grinning a bit, still on his knee and leaning in, now pointing to my socks.

I couldn't remember which I'd chosen. I had amassed a pretty decent collection in a short amount of time. Chalk it up to years of standard issue thick wickable boring ones. "Ah... let's see... I remember the colors were bright... neon stripes? Or polka dots?" I asked him, tilting my head a bit to see around my knees so I could look at him.

"Cookie Monster," he replied, glancing from them to me.

"Darn it," I said with a quick snap of my fingers and a bit of a grin of my own. "Not even close."

I was trying, dammit. And I wish I hadn't, as his grin faded, keeping his eyes locked on mine for just a beat too long. I felt my curved lips fall back to normal, too. I was telling myself to turn my head away, look down, something, but my body wasn't listening. Could be I wasn't telling it loudly enough anymore. But I didn't have time to decide, because just then Sam had returned from paying and Dean stood, closing the door near my feet.

"Here," I heard Sam say, then saw through the window that he was holding out the keys to Dean.

"Nah, I'm sick of driving for now, you take over." And with that, Dean opened the passenger door on the same side, climbing in.

I turned my head to face the back of the seat. He had a clear line of sight to me, now that he wasn't at the wheel and my head was behind the driver's side. I heard crunching and crinkling and shuffling. Sam opened the door.

"Throw this crap out," Dean told him, and I heard the front seat squeak as he leaned across to the driver's side door, apparently handing him the bunched-up food bag based on Sam's response.

"You don't want the rest of the fries?" Sam asked from outside.

Dean didn't respond right away. He was looking at me. I knew he was looking at me. I'd have bet my life... okay, not my life, maybe Jody's kids' lives. But I was very, very sure. I closed my eyes.

"Dean?" Sam prompted.

Another squeak of the seat.

"No," Dean said in a low, almost pouty, tone.

It could've been my imagination, but Sam's driving seemed less... well, less everything. Less bumps, less screeching up to stops, and his music choices weren't my taste - really weren't my taste - yet he seemed so considerate of my presence in the back seat, not blasting it through the speakers or cranking the bass.

Dean hadn't looked at me or spoken to me in hours. The two of them had hardly spoken in at least one. I had been absently fingering my necklace and looking out the back window at the smattering of stars flying by when I got that feeling again. That I was being watched.

I turned my head.

Dean was facing backwards, one arm slung across the back of the front seat. He caught my eye, then stared at my fingers, at the gold bands I kept running them around, then through, then out, then starting over. It was a habit I'd developed, triggered by late nights. When I'd startle myself awake.

Upshot of sleep deprivation: apathy. And so I let my eyes bore holes through him til he looked up from studying the necklace. Dean tilted his chin towards it, giving it another glance before meeting my eyes again. I raised an eyebrow, because tough shit. Grow up. Verbalize.

He blinked, but after a brief glance downwards, looked back to me and spoke softly. "You were married."

I kept staring, kept my thumb inside the largest band, kept running my index finger over it, pressing it into my skin. "Indeed," I replied. Dean didn't say anything to that; so I did. "Why?"

"Why?" he repeated, then shrugged. "I just saw the rings and--"

"Could've been my parents' rings. Maybe they're dead and I'm super sentimental."

Now a series of blinks, a couple of facial expressions, opening and closing his mouth a few times, debating how to respond. I sighed. Then I sat myself up. And then I let him off the hook.

"Jody told me you asked her for a background check," I informed him. "I told her she could go ahead, I didn't mind. So... I ask again: Why?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, and it was genuine; he didn't know what I was driving at.

"I assume her word was good enough as far as my skills went. And she told you I was aware of the bumps in the night. That's the why - why a formal background check?"

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, the brothers sharing a look that, even though I couldn't see it clearly, just made me more determined to press.

"We, um... I mean, we did a basic one on your name, um... there were these sealed records," Sam began, not seeming to know how to construct an actual sentence.

Dean fessed up. "We thought maybe Jody would be able to tell us more."

"Uh-huh," I replied in a slightly sing-song voice. Please. They were not the first near-strangers to bring this up to me. They could get in line. Several moments of silence. I had glanced in the rear view mirror to look at Sam when he'd spoken, and he'd immediately looked away after catching my eye. "Okay, I'll go now," I announced, and felt that snot-faced brat inside me push the grown woman out of the way and step up to the plate. "Astute as you are, I bet you noticed that around the dates on those sealed records, I got to bury my husband."

Pin-drop silence in the car.

"Those records are the investigation into his death - see, it happened on the job. And FBI-SWAT doesn't like word getting around of head cases within their ranks."

Dean's brow creased ever-so-slightly as he processed.

"Me," I clarified, pointing to myself. "I'm talking about me."

"I didn't mean to--" Dean began quietly, but I cut him off in my self-protective, snarky, overly chipper tone.

"No, no! This is good practice. I've only told this story to two people: the investigatory psychiatrist and Jody. The former labelled me with lots of multi-syllable words which ended up getting me off the hook for homicide."

Dean's sharp intake of air was audible.

There ya go Sherlock, I thought. Make them connections.

"And Jody, well, Jody and I have known each other since the academy. She knew something crazy happened - not, you know, crazy-crazy," I specified, spinning a finger near my head. "She knew this was way outside my norm. So one night after drinking roughly her entire liquor cabinet, I told her what I'm about to tell you!"

Dean was rapidly growing more tense by the second, so many lines in his creased forehead, jaw clamped, posture stiff. But I've never met a tense situation I didn't like meeting head-on.

"It was one of our last missions together, me and hubby. Not cool to have married people on the same unit, so he was transferring to a nice, safe desk job the next week.

"We - that is, my team and I, which included my partner on the op, who had recently become my husband - breached into what we understood to be a hostile situation. He and I went to our pre-planned area to sweep and clear.

"I got to go first into this big, wide-open, warehouse-type area, because I was the one with the shield. Lots of boxes and crates for scary people to hide behind. Not. Terribly. Ideal."

I had leaned up a bit, tapped a finger against Dean's forearm to emphasize those last three words.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

I flopped back against my seat again. "Then I saw smoke - I thought maybe a hidden creeper had tossed out a smoke grenade to blind us. But it was this thin, snake-like thing that wove its way through the air, shot right over my head, and what do you think happened next, Dean?"

A nervous half-smile washed over his face. "Hey, uh, look, Snipes, we really don't have to--"

I plowed on. "Well! I got kicked in the back so hard, it crushed bone - coulda severed my spinal cord, they said. The hospital chaplain called me blessed."

"Just--"

"And I flipped end over end, which, I tell ya, never did gymnastics as a kid, and it did not inspire me to take it up."

"Why don't you--"

"But I was a finely tuned machine back then, Dean, I mean, that shit today? Whatever. You could've handicapped me by a rainstorm, a hundred more yards and two of that thing's buddies."

Dean swallowed, and points for effort, kept opening his mouth to try to interrupt me.

"It was just second nature for me to get the shield back up. It didn't register for me that it was him - the love of my life - who'd kicked me so hard I was starting to lose feeling in the lower half of my body. It didn't register til he was coming towards me with this sick smile on his face - cause he'd thrown off his tactical helmet by that point, you know, so he could see me suffer up close."

I was sitting up as I spoke, slowly edging forward with each word. Now Dean shut his mouth completely, almost looking like he was going to reach for me - what, to comfort me? Because this could be comforted? Fuck that.

"And he proceeded to unload every round he had into that shield, and the closer he got, well, let's just say those shields don't hold up like you want 'em to when it gets personal," I continued, and though I kept my tone as facetious as possible, those goddamn tears started welling up again. "I heard boots pounding above us, knew at least part of our team was headed towards the gunfire. He heard it, too; I know, because he stopped before he put the next mag into his gun to get out an actual smoke grenade - you know, what that other thing wasn't, but I bet you've guessed by now where this is going."

Dean kept his eyes locked on mine.

"He started chucking smokes and flash-bangs one after the other, back at the door, into the hallway, and I thought that was so weird - til it occurred to me it wasn't to buy him time, to keep them from saving me, I was going to be dead in a second; it was so he could get the drop on them."

I leaned in close to Dean, and when he started to back away slightly, I shot my arm forward, grasped him with my left hand by the nape of his neck, came in real, real close.

"And when he turned back, I'd already tossed the shield away, raised my gun, saw him looking right through me with those fucked up shark eyes--" I raised my right hand, just my index and middle finger extended "--and didn't flinch when I put a bullet right between 'em."  I pressed the fingers firmly above Dean's nose, directly onto the exact point where I'd fired five years ago, into the man he reminded me of every second of every minute of every hour I'd been in his presence. "Found out later that was pretty goddamn smart: hard for a demon to use a host, alive or dead, that's had chunks of brain matter blown out. Body just won't do right, you know?" I let go of his neck and pulled my fingers away, but he didn't move.

I heard Sam gulp audibly.

Then I heard my voice go all soft, though I didn't mean for it to. "It was in slow-motion. Watching him die. I thought I could actually see the bullet spinning forward. I know I saw, right as it pierced his skin, I know I saw that snake of smoke start coming out of his mouth, pretty easily seeing as how his jaw had gone slack by the time the smoke left completely. And I know when his eyes went back to puppy-dog brown because it was right as the bullet came out the back of his skull."

Two lone tears, one from each eye, rolled out and down my cheeks.

"You would find in that report that the evidence showed he apparently snapped and came after me. It would also show that my hallucinations and possible break from reality caused by the aforementioned husband snap was likely all due to a faulty smoke bomb canister that had some chemical mix-up. The report ends with them jerking each other off, congratulating themselves for bringing it to the attention of the manufacturer, so they could do a mass recall. But I'm still that once-promising elite who shot a fellow officer at point-blank range in the line of duty. And after I used up all my bereavement leave and vacation time and sick time, and just somehow couldn't manage to suck it up and go back to being a robot, they fired me."

Dean moved a hand, beginning to reach up like he was going to wipe my tears away.

No.

I made my voice cold again. Jody was drunk that night, too. She'd explained to me I wasn't crazy. Explained the world within our world. Told me enough about these hunter friends of hers, a pair of brothers, for me to put two-and-two together as I heard more stories over time. I knew just how much my husband and Dean really had in common.

"You ever looked into the eyes of evil, Dean? Knew it was gonna eat you alive? Coming from someone you thought you knew inside and out?"

Dean froze, and as I watched his face morph into something hard, I felt my eyes narrow in viciousness, the corners of my mouth tweak up in wickedness.

"Yeah you do," I whispered, answering for him.

I stayed frozen, too. We were playing emotional chicken. He broke first, turning completely away, staring out the front window into the night. Sam was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

I sat back. "We getting close?" I asked him, my voice back to normal.

"About ten more minutes," Sam answered quietly.

"Good. I need a shower," I commented, back to absently fiddling with the rings.

And I did. I felt disgusting.

Those next ten minutes passed quickly, and Sam helped me out of the car, as Dean had practically bolted as soon as the keys were out of the ignition. Sam reached back in, slung my backpack over one of his shoulders, then picked up my boots.

"I can--" I started, but he looked at me with such kindness and sympathy, it broke my heart a little.

"It's okay," he said softly, and I knew he didn't just mean playing bellhop for me. And I believed him. For tonight, it was going to be okay.

"Sweet lord," I muttered when we entered the bunker proper.

Sam chuckled. "I'll give you the nickel tour in the morning." He chose a room from what seemed like a hundred options along a rounded hallway, turning on the light, dropping my bag onto the bed and setting my boots by the door.

"Sink," I noted. "That's... convenient."

"You're close to the bathroom and the showers," Sam said, and I followed him a little ways down the hall. And shit, I was getting stiff again. My word vomit in the car had only relieved it for a little while. A hot shower was now a definite, not a maybe.

I stopped cold at the threshold. Sam had walked in, telling me I could help myself to any of the soap and shampoo I saw, when he noticed I hadn't followed. It was like a locker room - no door at the entry, no curtains or individual stalls.

"Uh..." I began, trailing off with a little grin as I gestured around to all the open space.

Sam actually blushed a bit, reached up, ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I didn't think of that. We don't exactly have guests. I mean, not-"

"Of the boob variety, yeah, I figured that," I finished for him. But I wasn't annoyed or irritated. Sam was a good guy. Probably why I looked on him like a kid brother. He treated me nice, and it made me edgy. "Well," I said with a sigh, "I suppose I'll just have to be quick."

"I could hang a sheet over the doorway," he offered.

I shrugged. I knew Sam wouldn't dare disturb me, and it seemed Dean was hell and gone from anywhere near me, so it was really irrelevant.

"Okay, well, let me at least let you borrow one of my shirts. I'll grab a pair of pajama pants, too."

"That'd be great, an old t-shirt is my usual lingerie anyway," I told him honestly.

Sam nodded. "I'll rustle up some towels."

I went back into the bedroom while he went on his mission. It was retro from top to bottom. I kind've loved it. Standing at the mirror above the tiny sink, I gathered my long hair up again, but this time into a messy top knot. It had been cropped short for so long, out of necessity, so I'd let it grow over the past several years, and I didn't really know why. Some kind of spite? Flipping a bird at the past? Wanting to look like a completely different person? Because that's how I felt inside, anytime I'd look in the mirror?

I unzipped the backpack, tossing items to the side as I rooted through everything. It was my go-bag, so all the contents were needs only, a low-caliber version of my typical fare from home. When missions were spur of the moment, it was handy to have - our gear and outerwear was already at our home base, so all we needed to have was a spare set of the basics.

Toothbrush and toothpaste: check. Through the plastic of a ziplock - lipbalm, tiny bottle of lotion, tiny deodorant, disposable razor, small bar of soap: check. Two plain white v-neck t-shirts: check. Two pair white tube socks: check. Two pair plain white cotton briefs: check. Plain white cotton bra... plain white cotton bra... plain white- aaarrrgh.

I was muttering a few of my favorite blasphemous vocabulary words, continuing to dig, then re-checking what I'd already pulled out, like it would materialize. I knew exactly what had happened. I'd tossed out the bra that had traditionally lived in the go-bag, as well as all the others I'd owned at the time. 'The time' being when I had to stop working out and lifting weights like a maniac - thank you, broken back - and the cups on all my bras rapidly became too small. I'd put on about fifteen more pounds overnight, and it felt like they'd split the difference between my chest and my hips and my ass. The only reason the cargo pants I was wearing fit at all was because they used to belong to... they used to be...

I shook it off. If I had to go braless, I didn't want my skin to be directly against one of their shirts. Even that felt too close right then.

A soft rap against the open door behind me.

"Hey I don't need that t-shirt after all, just the pants," I was saying as I turned around.

There stood Dean.

Feedback makes my ❤️ go boom

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Author’s Note: This was written due to a loss of a bet, the terms of which involved “serious Dean smuttage” but evolved [read: devolved]. I can’t write anything (a) short or (b) without plot. Do with that info what you will. 

Anyway, so I lost the bet and wrote the thing and published it, and The Commissioner’s feedback was that it had too much plot and no boning and was too canon-y and WTF. 

And I said - Well who raised me? 

I was met with silence [and I cannot EMPHASIZE the clear-and-present-danger this represents when it comes to the Commish] but was ultimately told I could keep my plot as long as I (a) smutted it up more [hence your verbiage no one actually uses to describe anything in reality] and (b) understand that if I got >20 compliments on this installment I’d owe a second installment with (a) Sam and (b) absolute filth.

I, very stupidly, then took that bet.  Upcoming mattress-dancin’ with Sam “I Take An Investigatory Approach To Things, And By ‘Things’ I Mean Your Hoo-Hah” Winchester, stay tuned.

[dkarchives-blog]

The Start of Something Catastrophic | Mack & Bella

Bella sat on her bed, watching TV. She held a bag of frozen peas against her hand since it was still sore from hitting Aaron last night. She didn’t even know that she could hit, let alone hit good. It made her a bit proud. She didn’t see Mack for most of the night, and when she did she went out to get a drink. Now she was still unsure of where the girl was. Not that she cared. She didn’t want anything to do with the girl. If it wasn’t for Mia playing momma bear she would have already did to her what she did to Aaron last night, maybe worse now that she knows what she’s capable of. She heard the sound of the door opening and rolled her eyes, not bothering to take her eyes off of the TV.Mack had made an effort to go study somewhere besides her dorm, wanting to avoid being in vicinity of Bella at all costs. After learning that she had hit Aaron after their talk, she definitely wasn’t Mack’s favorite person in the world. It was evident that Mack wasn’t exactly her favorite person either, that much was obvious after she’d found ashes all over her bed. She couldn’t stay out forever, though, and would have to return to her room before sooner or later. Taking a deep breath, Mack grabbed the handle and pushed the door open before stepping into the shared room. Mack didn’t do as much as glance Bella’s way as she made her way to her side of the room, shaking her head lightly at the situation.Bella hadn’t done anything to Mack yet besides pouring out her ashtray in her bed, but she was thinking about it. Nothing that would get her in trouble with Mia, but something that’d get her point across. When the girl came in she didn’t bother looking in her direction. She didn’t get any confirmation but she could tell the girl was pissed with her. Considering what she had done in the past day she didn’t really blame her. She didn’t have it in her to feel sympathy for either one of the two. Since she knew she wouldn’t be seeing Aaron anytime soon, and with Alex nowhere to be found, she was gonna need someone to fuck with. She looked over at Mack. She was weak in her eyes. Then again, it didn’t take much to be weak according to Bella. She looked away and focused on the TV. “How’s pencildick and that god awful shiner he’s rocking?” She asked casually, referring to Aaron and the mark she left on him. She assumed that was where she had been.Mack dropped her backpack onto her bed, feeling herself subconsciously roll her eyes as she heard what Bella said. Mack wasn’t the type to lose her temper. She hardly ever did, she would always walk away from the situation before it ever got close to getting out of hand. Mack knew that she couldn’t fight at all, so she wouldn’t set herself up for one. But with Bella, Mack found it extremely difficult to bite her tongue and refrain from saying anything. Scoffing softly as she shook her head, Mack’s dark eyes adverted over to Bella for a moment, “As if you really care, Bella.” Mack said truthfully before looking away from her. She knew that Bella couldn’t care less about Aaron and the mark that she had left on him, Mack wanted to avoid the whole topic.Bella laughed softly, nodding as she stared at the girl. “You’re right. I don’t. Not at all. You seem to be a little bitter though.” She said happily, beginning to grin softly. It made her a little happy to see the girl angry. She never really got happy when she pissed people off, unless it was Alex, but if someone messed with her it made her feel like a fat kid in a candy shop with ridiculously rich parents. “Glad you know how it feels.” She mumbled, looking back at the TV. She was glad. She had felt a bit of bitterness towards the girl ever since she found out about her and Aaron. Now it seemed reverse and she couldn’t be more pleased with herself.Mack took notice of Bella’s happy tone, finding it unbelievable how someone could act how she was right now. Huffing softly, Mack tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “You would know something about being bitter, wouldn’t you?” She asked Bella with a raised eyebrow. As far as Mack knew, Bella had been bitter about her and Aaron since she’d found out. Mack wasn’t bitter, just upset after how everything went down between Bella and Aaron. Taking a seat on the edge of her bed, which was now clean after Bella put her ashes on it, Mack sighed irritably as she occupied herself with her phone–needing something to distract herself from leaving again.Bella looked over at the girl, a bit shocked. She wasn’t shocked about what she said, but that she was saying it. She didn’t think the girl had guts to saying anything. Now she knew this was gonna be fun. “No, not bitterness. If anything pity. I just feel bad when a dude goes from a ten to a four. It’s poetic injustice.” She said back, shrugging. She turned around so that her legs were hanging off of the bed. Of course she didn’t want to fight the girl. Only because Mia wouldn’t be too happy, but it still made her not want to. She promised herself she only would if it came to that.“A ten to a four?” Mack asked, a scoff leaving her lips as she shook her head at Bella. “I think you have that a little twisted. I honestly couldn’t care less about what you think. Your words can’t hurt me. If anything, I feel pity for /you/. You’re the one that messed up and lost Aaron.” Mack explained, never taking her eyes off of Bella. Mack wasn’t sure where this was coming from. She had reached her breaking point with Bella and couldn’t care less or give a second thought as to what words were leaving her lips. “You lost him, let it go.” Mack exasperated, adverting her gaze back down to her phone.“I can count.” Bella remarked, crossing her arms. “Feel bad for me?” She laughed at the thought. “Honey, I could give a fuck less what you feel or what you think. If you’re trying to hurt me by talking about something you didn’t even know about until yesterday then you’re in for a rude awakening You’re just my replacement.” She said bluntly. “You’re just some ‘censored for television’ version of me who thinks just cause they have my sloppy seconds and stuck with them they’re better than me.” She smirked. “Well you’re wrong. What you’re dating is a low life piece of shit that you think you can make better but you know deep down he’s just gonna be an asshole forever. Don’t even lie. Yeah, you can say all you want. You have him, you won, well good for fucking you. I could care less about that.” That was partly a lie. She didn’t really care about it, but at the same time that was where her hatred first started.“Your replacement? Are you kidding me? Aaron and I’s relationship is nothing that you two had. He didn’t even consider what you two had a relationship, so how am I your replacement? If he had you wrapped around his finger, why would he even need a replacement?” Mack asked Bella, tilting her head to the side as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I never said that I thought I was better than you.” She sighed. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that. Honestly, if that’s that’s what you think of him then you really knew absolutely nothing about him. God, If you don’t care as much as you claim not to, then let it go and leave us alone.” What Bella was saying didn’t make any sense to Mack. She didn’t understand why it was so difficult for her to move on from Aaron, it had been quite some time by this point.“Consider it whatever you want, but you have no idea what we were like together. You weren’t in picture. So before you start acting like miss know it all you should learn to know what you’re even talking about.” She said. “You were thinking it. I know your type.” She rolled her eyes. “Meanwhile I knew him longer than you did.” She stood up. “Leave you two alone? I was being nice to him, and I wasn’t even talking to your ugly ass before this shit started. I told my friend something because I trusted them. I had no intentions of her telling you so before you think I planned this out like that retard you’re dating then you’re dumber than I thought!”“Oh, trust me, I’ve heard more than enough about you two from Aaron.” Mack raised an eyebrow as Bella said that she knew her type, she merely shook her head in response. “You know nothing about me.” She retorted, scoffing lightly at her. “You’re just making everything worse. You’ve caused enough drama, I would have thought that you’d had enough by this point.” Mack stood her ground, the last thing that she wanted to do was step down from Bella. That was what she wanted. Mack wouldn’t give her that.Bella rolled her eyes. She was sick of hearing his name. “I know enough.” She told her. “The only reason this got worse was because of that asshole trying to come and bitch at me. I’ve had enough, but I’m always ready to defend myself if necessary. I suggest you shut up cause I’m two seconds away from making you go from a four to a two.” She crackled her knuckles, glaring at the girl.Mack’s eyes moved from her face down to her hands as she cracked her knuckles, Bella’s words coming out as nothing but a blur to her. Taking a step back, Mack shook her head lightly at the blonde. She knew that Bella wouldn’t hesitate to lay a hand on her, but Mack’s mind was running at a million miles per hour and she couldn’t bring herself to run from the situation. It was exactly what Bella wanted, Mack wasn’t sure if she wanted to give her that satisfaction. “Lay a hand on me and Amelia and Aaron are both coming after you.” She said, her words not coming out as strong as she’d hoped that they would.“Sounding a little weak there.” Bella laughed. “Do you think I’m really scared of Aaron? That mark I left on his face says otherwise.” She shrugged. “Mia will be mad but I think she’d get over it. This has nothing to do with her.” A part of her did worry about how Mia would take it, but she hoped it wouldn’t be that serious of an issue to her. Mia wasn’t even involved. She moved closer towards the girl, keeping her eyes on her.Mack’s heart sank to her stomach as Bella taunted her, falling silent as she continued. There was no way that Mack could even begin to defend herself against Bella, she knew that. She knew that the drama after all of this would be unbelievable and in no way was she prepared for it all. As Bella moved closer towards her, Mack tried to take another step back but felt the backs of her legs hit the bed. Swallowing hard, Mack shook her head lightly at her, “S-Stop.” Mack breathed out, watching Bella’s every move carefully. “Hitting me isn’t going to do anything, it’s not going to fix anything.”Bella watched the girl back away, laughing softly. “Well, actually it’d fuck up your face a little, that’s something.” She corrected. She took a few steps closer. “Fix anything? If I wanted to fix anything I’d be a construction worker. I was always more into desctruction. Must be the rebel in me.” She shrugged. She stared at the girl, contemplating her next thought. She knew this whole thing would probably get her in trouble with Mia, even if she didn’t hit her. In her mind she had nothing to lose. Her hand was balled into a fist at her side. She finally let loose, raising her hand and punched her in face face. It felt harder than she had punched Aaron. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” She said softly, grinning as she backed away.Everything moved slowly for Mack. Bella’s words continued to come out as nothing more than a blur, her eyes moving to the hand that was balled into a fist at her side. Before Mack could react or convince her to do otherwise, she felt her fist come into contact with her face. The pain hit all over her body at once, stumbling in her place as a hand was brought up to her face. Her eyes stung, the feeling only been that much worse as she saw the grin on Bella’s face. She pushed past Bella, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from her as possible to someone that she could feel safe with.Bella watched the girl push past her, emotionless. She knew what would come next. Either Aaron or Amelia would find out and that’d be a shit show she was dreading, more Mia than Aaron. She knew if she just sat and waited it’d just be bad. She couldn’t stand this room much more. She grabbed her hoodie from the bed and threw it on. She took her phone and tossed in her pocket. After she grabbed her stash from the drawer in her nightstand, she left the room. As good her victory felt both her hands ached. The only thing she could use right now was a drink and a smoke, and she planned to get those as soon as possible.