#the little travel mugs were marked down because of being a holiday thing

[asjjohnson]

I bought a small travel mug yesterday with a $5 store credit. It's black with the letter S on it.

I'm not sure what the S means.

My first choice was actually a green mug with the letter B on it, but I like the letter S more than the letter B.

I figured if I got the green one I'd forever feel weird about the random letter B on it, but I can live with the letter S.

[blxetsi]

peach scone - levi ackerman (modern au)

levi ackerman x gn!reader, levi ackerman x erwin smith

warnings: ooc levi, angst, songfic,  lowercase intended !

reposted due to errors   

you’re a peach scone. 

it used to be a term of endearment. something that he would say to make your tummy fill with little creatures. the butterflies would bump into your sides, causing you to feel sort of ticklish in your abdomen, while the little caterpillars and slugs would crawl around your torso, sending shivers down your spine. levi would always say it after you did something he enjoyed, like if you helped him on his assignment, or if you gave him really good advice. he would always utter those four words to you as gratitude. never loud enough for others to hear, because those words were always meant for you. 

you shook those thoughts from your head, you couldn’t be thinking about such bittersweet memories minutes before you were set to perform. currently, you’re preparing to perform in front of you music teacher, it’s your final assignment before your exam and it counts for 15% of your mark. you’ve entrusted your two friends, derek and kate, to assist you, derek playing guitar and kate on drums, both performing the melody you created for your song. you stand behind the curtains of the auditorium, behind stage, kate is already out there, sitting perfectly still in front of a single drum, one drumstick in each hand. she’s more prepared than you are, which should worry you because this is your project, but you can’t really feel your fingers if you’re being honest. derek stays behind with you, almost protecting you from your teacher who sits in the audience waiting. your eyes run over the lyrics you wrote, that you wrote, over and over again, worried you’ll forget them. if you weren’t so anxious you’d find it funny, forgetting the words to your own song. a song you wrote of a horrible situation you can never escape. you know the predicament you’re in all too well, yet you’re standing behind the curtains next to the fire escape, the lanky boy beside you tuning his instrument at the last minute. 

you couldn't remember the last time you played something in front of him. you could remember different memories, like from christmas or halloween, but when was the most recent time ? when was the last time you saw him anyways ? blurs of different memories, all similar in some ways. you with a guitar, your friends gathered around. sometimes they'd be sober, others not. but the constant was always levi. he was always there beside you. every time you felt nervous to play something, even if it was a silly song that hange recommended just for laughs, levi would always tell you the same thing. four words that made your irrational fears melt away. "c'mon y/n, do it for me. you're my peach scone."

you remember telling moblit about the project, who then passed the comment off to hange, who so begged you to let the two come and watch. you knew the biology major meant well, but you also knew that they had a tendency to be very inclusive. if you had written about absolutely anything else, other than your feelings for a man that you knew didn’t love you back, you’d let your entire friend group come. your teacher was a kind man, and old, but you knew he’d be fine with some friend’s watching. you were nervous not because you had to tell a man who was way too old to be getting into a college student’s messy love life about your own problems, but because the cause of your messiness could possibly be attending. 

hange’s last message to you was nerve wracking. the “just got finished at the coffee bean with levi and erwin, heading your way now !” could allude to the idea that hange had invited erwin and levi to see you perform a song you wrote about how you love levi but he’s dating erwin. your multiple text messages of “hange don't let them come.” and “hange please just let it be you and moblit like we agreed.” hadn't been opened.

you heard the auditorium doors open, before hearing the shuffle of feet and hushed voices. your paper with the lyrics fell out of your hands, and you merely gave a frightening look to the boy beside you, before your teacher broke the silence. 

“y/n, if you were waiting for your friends they’re here now. old bob isn’t getting any younger so let’s speed this up.” 

you’d chuckle at the man’s humor if you weren’t so afraid. 

the lights blinded you as you walked out on stage, derek trailing behind you. you three were positioned near the edge of the stage, so the practically nonexistent audience could have a good look at you. you stood in the middle, making sure your mic was working before making sure the mic positioned near derek’s guitar was on. the three of you chatted for a couple of seconds while derek started playing, and as you looked up, you could clearly see the silhouettes of your friends as they sat in the back. from left to right it was levi, erwin, hange and moblit. you threw your head back with an “oh no !” into the mic, while kate slapped you on your back for confidence. 

“what’s up bob ? god man, i’m y/n, this is derek and kate, and we’re just kids who like to make a little bit of love, make a little bit of music, look at this we’re on a desk, just kidding its a stage, i don’t care about the rules.” 

there was no going back now. you were going to potentially ruin your relationships with not just levi and erwin but with everyone else. 

it was time for you to begin the introduction to your story. 

hi, what’s your name ? how are you ? how’s your life ?

you remember when you first met levi. it was your first year of high school, just four months after your beloved grandmother had passed, and he had just moved into your apartment building along with his mother and uncle. you had heard them moving back and forth down the hall all morning, and you were curious because, who would be making so much noise at 6:30am on a friday morning ? the school year had just begun, with you only having a month of the high school experience under your belt. you remember your mother making you leave a bit early, wanting to meet the new tenants moving in across the hall. you remember standing in the blank room of a living space, the whole apartment was a mirror image of your own, just empty and bland. everything that your mom said to a woman named kuchel bounced off the walls, echoing and travelling to different parts of the home.

then you saw him. he was about your height, and looked similar to the nice lady kuchel. you remember him just staring at you with the most passive look on his face, while you extended your hand to him, asking for his name. 

he shook it, of course, his mother didn’t raise him to be rude, and while you wanted to learn more about him, to be friendly, your mother had quickly gasped before trying to usher you out of the new home, saying how you two would be late for the city bus. 

as goodbyes were exchanged between the two mothers, your own invited the family over for dinner on the weekend. and while your mother pulled you out of the threshold, you made eye contact with levi, promising to make him some peach scones.  

oh, you got a man ? are you in love ? if so, what type ?

you remember this day very clearly. it was the very last day of the holidays, a sunday before school went back into session. levi had asked you to accompany him to the coffee bean, which was a cafe near campus. it was usually always busy, with students meeting there to hang out or study. they had a selection of scones too, and levi would always refuse your suggestion to get one, saying that “they’ll never be as good as yours.” 

today was a weird day. usually he would get so pissy if you asked him to pay for your order, yet he wordlessly did with no protests, even going as far to shush you when you asked him why he did that. so you two sat in the cafe, your coats and hats resting over the back of your chairs, as you sat across from one another watching the snowfall. 

he was the first to bring it up. “y/n i have something to tell you.”

and then he went onto explain how he and erwin have been getting closer these past few weeks, oh you remember erwin right ? from my business class ? then he explained how hange had given him a push of encouragement to shoot his shot with the blond. levi was a stoic man, but you’d known him long enough to understand that the grip on his mug wasn’t normal, nor was the furrow in his brow that seemed just a little too hard for his flawless face. “so uh, we’re together now, i guess.” he finished off. 

you couldn’t do anything but nod, bringing your own mug up to your lips, sipping the almost scalding hot beverage without care. why couldn’t hange given you a little more time ? well hange never knew of your crush on levi, dipshit. 

it was as if levi could sense your uneasiness with the situation, before he sighed. “look, i’m not looking for your approval, and quite frankly i don’t even know why i felt the need to tell you so... intimately. but i thought you’d want to know first, and i’ve known you long enough to be at the point where i want you to be the first to know these things.” 

that made your heart ache more. you felt good knowing levi trusted you so much to tell you, but you felt sad knowing he saw you as a friend in this situation, although it’s your fault for waiting so long. 

you looked up at him with a smile, you felt like your eyes were a bit more moist than usual, but if levi noticed the glossy tone to your eyes, and how they looked just a bit more red, he didn’t comment on it. so you grabbed his hand, squeezed it, and told him how happy you were for him and erwin. 

and after that, you two went on business as usual, before levi walked you back to your home, holding onto your arm to keep you from slipping on the ice. 

you had never felt so protected yet so selfishly betrayed in your life.

“we should go get a cup of coffee,” at the coffee bean .

“and i’ll act friendly,” even though you’re falling apart.

you kept going with the song, trying your best to look at the man staring directly at you, who was grading this. yet you couldn’t help but flick your eyes up to the group sitting a couple rows higher, to levi. by now everyone should’ve noticed how watery your eyes were becoming, as well as how your voice would crack every so often. you were breaking, you were stressed out and scared, but the show must go on. 

“and i won’t pull any stunts but i’m a fucking stunt puller from birth.” your mother had said that way too many times to you for levi not to know what it meant. your song was filled with memories, inside jokes, emotions and love and heartbreak, too much of all of it for levi to not figure out it’s about him, and if he doesn’t he’s lying to himself. 

you looked up at levi, his back was straight against the seat he occupied, his left hand holding erwin’s right. “so i don’t know what to tell you, if i try to confess my love for...” you saw levi lean in just the slightest. “scones !” 

he knew. he knew, and you knew that he knew and he just told you he knew that he knows what your song is about when he let go of erwin’s hand, in favor of leaning in with his elbows on his knees. “i just want to say something real quick please shh,” your eyes never left levi’s and he stared at you with a look in his eyes that said “go ahead, say it.” so you did. “i love... these scones.” he pulled back abruptly, almost like he was pissed that you said you loved scones instead of him. 

your eyes flicked back to bob as he jotted something down on a piece of paper. “just the diversity between the selection they have here, the blueberry, raspberry, strawberry, pumpkin.” 

which is basically a fucking squash, how are you gonna make a scone out of a fucking squash ?

you, along with a drunk levi and hange sat in the coffee bean with moblit, who was the only sober one tonight. you four had gone out drinking with your other friends, but split up for the night after you and hange had forced the two men to come with you two to the cafe, claiming that caffeine would help sober you up. 

it was a rare thing seeing levi drunk, and hange made sure to take as many pictures and videos without getting caught by the raven haired man. some students were sitting in the establishment, textbooks and papers strewn around them as they studied and researched at 2:47am. 

hange had pulled out their camera beside you, the two of you watching levi has he ranted about how shitty the scones were here. “how are you gonna make a scone out of a fucking squash ?” he asked, shoving his face into his hands moments later. hange stopped the recording in fear of getting caught, before sending it to the groupchat with all of your friends, showing the 23 second long video of levi’s rage for scones. 

“what’s wrong with the scones levi ?” you teased, leaning into him from across the table. 

he only muttered one thing. “they aren’t like your scones, y/n.” before he played footsies with you underneath the table. 

you whispered a promise to make more for him, but now as you stand on that stage, you can’t remember if you had kept it. the squash thing was an inside joke between your friend group, hange and moblit are smart enough to be catching on now, and you suspect that the only person that might not know is erwin. no, you’d be lucky if he was oblivious, if you staring at levi had given anything away (which it most certainly has) the blond should be catching up soon. 

you turned to your left, derek playing your “levi” as you sang to him “oh yeah you boyfriend made you mad the other day ? what was he saying what was he talking about ?” you sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes, never once turning your body or head away from derek. “oh what do i think ? let me think about it hm.” 

you sat in hange’s living room, levi squished in between the biology major and yourself, while he ranted about a fight he got into with erwin about something as silly as dish placements. 

you and the brunette laughed it off, while levi grumbled about how you shouldn’t be laughing even if it doesn’t seem that big of a deal. you reminded yourself that this was levi’s first relationship and quickly felt a bit of sympathy. you placed a hand on his shoulder, and he leaned into your touch slightly, before saying some words of encouragement. “oh levi, i’m sure he’s gonna turn around at some point.” 

after the second chorus, you looked to your right, kate playing your erwin. the difference in this was that your body stayed forward, you wanted to portray to the audience that you were less engaged in your conversation with kate compared to derek. you didn’t want to listen to erwin, but you would willingly put all your attention into what levi would say, no matter what it was. 

“yeah he told me a lot about you, yeah, uh huh.” you couldn’t help your voice breaking as tears finally streamed down your face. you were honestly surprised you could keep yourself composed for this long. you wouldn’t be able to stop the tears, and you were in too deep now to quit. you were jeopardizing everything, and you couldn’t do a thing to stop it. kate looked at you with worry in your eyes as you let out a sob away from the mic, before continuing. 

“it’s so great that you’re doing all of those things, and you should keep doing them... i think.” you immediately turned your head back to your instructor, who started to look at you with worry too. 

“yeah my name is y/n l/n ! i’m a writer i’m actually not a writer i like to call myself a musician,” you smiled through your tears as you tried to keep it together, but even you knew that you were way past that now. “i play guitar sometimes just not as good as derek.” before going back into your script of your memories with erwin smith. 

you looked back at kate while you said your next lines, tears streaming down your face while she gave you a pitiful stare. before finally, looking back up to the man who had looked down on you this entire performance, and confessing your love for him in the way you knew he’d understand. 

“but he, y’know he's just so sweet and he cared about me a lot when no one else did.” 

“hey y/n, why do you make those peach scones so often ?” levi sat on your bed in front of you, identical textbooks sat in front of you both as you studied. it had been over a year since you’d met him, and you knew that he was your closest friend. 

“because my grandma used to make them for me, and she gave me her recipe before she died. i just love her and her scones so much, and they make me happy, so i guess i make them to share with others so they can be happy too.”

the young boy who sat criss crossed in front of you merely rotated his head slightly, before nodding. “okay y/n. you’re my peach scone then.” 

you were too dense to understand what he had meant by that, until your senior year of high school when you finally realized that the feelings you had for levi weren’t strictly platonic anymore. in that seemingly miniscule confession he made to you, he admitted his love for you, and that you made him happy. 

“and i think that’s really nice because he’s a peach.” levi’s eyes widened, he knew what you were going to say. “he’s a peach scone.”

“he’s my peach scone.” 

you broke down before you could finish the song, and before you knew it your legs were carrying you out of the auditorium and down to the gender neutral restroom, the closest to the stage. kate followed you, knowing you’d need some comfort, while derek stayed, trying to play it off to your professor like that was the end of the song, and that you’re just a fantastic performer. 

and while hange and moblit discussed whether they should wait for you outside or just give you space, levi felt a part of his world crumble down. he got your message clearly, you loved him, and he did too, but he also liked erwin, and now levi sat in the dark theater, listening to his own boyfriend worry about you, while the raven haired man silently contemplated the pros and cons of leaving the blond for you. 

but you both knew he would never do that. 

[jawritter]

Twelve Days Of Christmas

Chapter 2

Summary: Dean never realized that Y/N missed Christmas until he turned off an annoying Christmas song on the radio on the way home from a hunt, now he will make it his personal mission to give her the Christmas he misses so much, and if he plays his cards right, maybe he will give her what he has wanted to give her for so many years, himself.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo​

Square Field: Christmas Shopping 

Word Count: 1306

Warnings: Hint of anxiety issues, fluff, Dean being a sweetheart. I think that’s about it. 

A/N: This is to help me catch up on my SPN Christmas Bingo card lol. This is the last one for today! Chapter 3 will post tomorrow! I knew chapter will post every day until Christmas! I know I’m insane lol. This is a real time fic collection and all mistakes will be my own! Please do not copy my work! Hope you all enjoy these!!

**SERIES MASTERLIST**   **MASTERLIST**   **BECOME A PATREON**

Dean grabbed a shopping cart from the rack at the store entrance and pushed it awkwardly through the store as well as the crowds of people. The light sounds of Christmas music played through the speakers in the background of the roar of constant chatter. Items were in display boxes in the center of aisles marked For Sale! in red letters on big signs. Different things from men’s and women’s cologne to fuzzy socks and bigger things like expensive and needless foot massagers. 

Needless to say, Dean didn’t know where to start, but he was going to walk around until he fingered it out. He was determined to give you the Christmas you deserved. He had a plan that he’d cooked up on the way up here. He had twelve days to give you the holiday experience of a lifetime, and he wasn’t going to let any of it go to waste, he was going to start with a small Christmas present for you to open tonight when he returned to the Dean cave, and then spend each day surprising you with something new. 

Tonight there was a big snowstorm coming, and he’d already had his plan for that as well, but he needed something he could give you for tonight. Being hunters, you didn’t really wear makeup. He didn’t want to get you something for the kitchen because then he felt like it looked like he was asking you to cook more when he wasn’t. 

He did keep coming back to the fuzzy socks. The bunker was always cold this time of year, even with its artificial climate control, and he had more than once seen you shivering in the morning and walking around with his jacket on. So he grabbed those, and also a pajama set that looked like it matched with a long-sleeved flannel shirt and plaid fuzzy pants. He also knew you liked hot chocolate, so he grabbed the stuff to make some hot chocolate and some alcohol to add to it. He knew it wasn’t much, but it was only the start. 

He did feel a little strange Christmas shopping. It was something he had never actually done before, but he had to admit that he felt a little string of excitement as he looked at your new pajamas and socks. He hoped this was the start of something between the two of you. Something that would last long after Christmas had come and gone. 

Back at the bunker, you took your time in getting to the shower. You had spent some time in your room looking through old family photos you had hidden under your bed of Christmases past and things that you would never have again with a heavy heart. You also spent some time kicking yourself for worsening your mood when Dean wanted to spend time with you. That was something normally that made your day. You carved the attention of the elder Winchester, even if you had never admitted it out loud. So when he came up with this whole movie night idea you should have been over the moon and not dwelling on the past. 

After some time you pulled yourself up off of the floor and put the pictures away before making your way to the showers, where the promise of steaming hot water and Dean’s soap awaited you. You wondered if he noticed you using his shampoo and soap but just chose to never say anything. It smelt like him, and it was comforting on those cold nights alone. 

Speaking of cold, the temperature had started to drop a great deal tonight, you could feel it in the air that hung in the bathroom as you peeled the clothes from your body and stepped under the scalding spray. You were glad to be back in the bunker and out of the storm outside. You loved the snow, and you loved to play in it like an overgrown kid, but you didn’t like traveling in it. 

By the time you had gotten out of the shower, your skin was wrinkled and the shower was filled with warm steam, but you felt more relaxed in body and mind. You had been able to mostly get your anxiety under control with the help of the hot water and Dean’s soap. When you stepped out into the steam warmed room and wrapped the towel around your body you were surprised by a poorly wrapped present on the sink waiting for you. You blinked for a moment and looked around cautiously before making your way to it. 

There was a little note taped to the top of the package that said, “Day 12, something to keep you warm, D,'' written in Dean’s handwriting and you swore for a moment your heart stopped in your chest as tears pooled in your eyes. Had he really gotten you a present? 

You tentatively unwrap the gift to find a new pajama set with a set of fuzzy socks sat haphazardly on top of the folded clothes and smile to yourself at his obvious attempt to do it himself. Your heartfelt like it could swell up and sore around the room and tears were steadily tracking down your cheeks as you quickly dressed in your gift. Dean didn’t have to go to the store and do that for you, but he did, and it meant the world to you. 

By the time you made your way to the Dean Cave, Dean was sitting a tray of hot chocolate on the little table in front of the oversized recliners, and grinning widely at you as you appeared in the doorway in your new PJ’s. 

“Looks great on you Sweetheart,” he said proudly as you blushed and made your way over to him. “I’m glad they fit.” 

“Dean, you didn’t have to do this, but you made my day. Thank you so much,” you tell him, throwing your arms around his neck and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug before lowering you both down to sit in the same recliner and handing you a mug of hot chocolate that you were pretty sure he’d spiked with alcohol like you had done for him that one hunt in Detroit when he’d caught himself a pretty nasty cold. 

“I wanted to do it Y/N/N, and this just day 12,” he told you with a wink, and you giggle in spite of yourself as he turns Elf on the TV, and wraps his arms around you, and pulls you into him. Something he had never done often, but you love it nonetheless. 

“You really don’t have to do this, Dean. I know you don’t really like the holidays all that much,” you tell him earnestly as he sips from the much in his left hand. 

Dean shrugged and smiled at you, “maybe I just never had anyone I really wanted to celebrate it with,” he said simply, and your blush deepened as your heart pounded against your rib cage. 

You snuggled down into his hold a little more comfortably, a content sigh leaving your lips. You had no idea what Dean had planned, but you were excited to see what the next few days had in store for you. 

Dean couldn’t wipe the smile on his face off if he wanted to, and even long after you had fallen asleep in his arms he didn’t even bother moving you, just slouched down the chair more than content to sleep right here with you all night long. 

The way your face lit up as you walked into the room in his gift made his broken and battered heart beat again for the first time in ages, maybe celebrating Christmas with you is just what he needed too.

Forever Tags: 

@deandreamernp​

@forgetthisbull​

@miraclesoflove​

@deanwanddamons​​​ 

@rvgrsbrns​​ 

@chevyharvelle​​ 

@onethirstyunicorn​​ 

@i-love-superhero​​ 

@lyss-dw79​ 

@magssteenkamp​ 

@lemondropirwin​ 

@squirrelnotsam​ 

@hobby27​ 

@spnbaby-67​  

@mrsjenniferwinchester​ 

@defenderrosetyler​ 

@screechingartisancashbailiff​ 

@thecreatiivecorner​  

@vicmc624​ 

@busy-bee-angel-misska​ 

@justanotherwinchester​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​

@idksupernatural​

@lyarr24​ 

@amandamdiehl​ 

@miraclesoflove​ 

 @emoryhemsworth​ 

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​ 

@softsebastian 

@tatted-trina6​

@anaelsbrunette​ 

@hayleeharling​   

@flamencodiva​ 

@coldmuffinbanditshoe​ 

@dirty-pan-goblin​ 

@itmejado​ 

@supernatural3002​ 

@teresa-67​ 

@thoughts-and-funnies​ 

@hearteyes-j2​

@miss-nerd95​ 

@writers-whirlwind​

@peaches007​

@bobbie3939​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@akshi8278​

@love-jackles-37-blog​

@supernatural-bellawinchester​

@bobbie3939​

Twelve Days Of Christmas Tag List: 

@440mxs-wife​

[yourfinalbow]

Ack anon I'm sorry. Tumblr ate your ask and I'm 🔪 But I saved your ask to put on the Google Doc so don't fret! I have it!

“Hi Ghastie Ghast, I wanted to share a prompt with you lol. I decided to go more holiday theme’d because it’s never too early to get into the holiday spirit.

“Your favorite winter drink was back on the menu, so I decided to surprise you with it.”

Please enjoy this prompt lmao”

The nickname made me -_- but hi Little Gray Circle Dude With Sunglasses! Thank you for sending me this! I had fun writing it. I'm assuming you wanted a Destiel fic, so that's what I wrote! (Also bonus points for Saileen as a background ship?) I sort of strayed a little from the prompt and the tone gets heavier as it goes on… 👀 I also accidentally wrote more than intended, so you can read it on Ao3 if that's easier. (And maybe give it a kudos because you’re the best?)

Title: Black Coffee Derangement Syndrome

Ship(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy.

(Basic) Tags: Fluff, Slight Angst, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker, Established Dean/Cas, Established Sam/Eileen, Using black coffee as a metaphor for hypermasculinity, With a whip cream style topping of internalized homophobia. *Finger guns.*

Warnings: Coffee gatekeeping and small sections of fluff that are as sweet as Cas’s Starbucks order. Also I’ve been to Starbucks once. Maybe twice? (Also a single mention of a drug that's commonly found as white powder, the non-descriptive comparison of Sam’s stupid health stuff with emesis, and use of the name that the figurehead for Germany in WW2 bore, just to be safe.)

Rating: T? Maybe? For language?

Word Count: 9k+

Quick thanks to my awesome beta @walksinstarllight! They are a poet and a writing sorcerer (wizard without a hat), and the only reason this fic even makes sense so please go shower them in kudos. (You can find their work here.)

Another thanks to @internetintroverts, who described a peppermint mocha to me in like 300 words because I drink black coffee and know nothing of anything ever. You can find their work here! (There's an Easter egg of one of their fics in this one hehe.)

The first thing Dean did when Cas got back from the Empty was give him coffee.

Okay no.

The first thing he did was fall into Cas’s arms and grip that stupid trenchcoat until his knuckles turned white. Shaking and laughing with hot tears streaming out of his eyes, he told him he was an asshole for leaving him like that. And to never, ever do it again. With blurry eyes and all other thoughts hazy, he told Cas he could have it, he could have what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. He told Cas he loved him too.

But then the next thing was coffee.

Caffeine is a hunter’s number one best friend, and since Cas was human again, Dean knew Sam was going to come at him with his stupid green health drinks and herbal tea. As Cas’s knight in shining armour, (a title used by Dean and Dean only), it was his duty to protect him from the disgustingly liquified rabbit food.

Now he expected Cas to like black coffee, you know, like a normal person.

But no, oh no. Apparently, he was dating a heathen.

Dean had to actually rub his eyes the first time he watched Cas fix his own coffee. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mouth agape.

Cas was leaning on the counter, humming some song that Dean could neither recognize, nor would he approve of, thank-you-very-much.

(Ok it was Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift and it's entirely possible he's listened to it once or twice but he still doesn't approve of it, thank-you-very-much.)

He held his yellow and black striped, bee-themed ceramic mug Eileen had bought him in one hand, and the entire five-pound bag of cane sugar in the other. And there he stood, happy as can be, pouring it directly into his mug.

Dean rubbed his eyes again.

And not even like, a normal amount either.

He just kept pouring, and pouring, and Oh my god he’s still pouring. Dean thought. It would honestly be more believable if it wasn’t sugar at all, and instead was in fact Cas’s secret stash of cocaine.

Dean might actually have to put sugar on the grocery list after he was finished.

His thoughts traveled back to Ishim doing the same thing with his coffee, in the tiny little diner Cas had set up as a meeting place. Dean had barged in that day, not thinking of his brother mocking him, or the possibility of danger inside. His vision was as tunneled as his thoughts  focused only on Cas, not caring about anything else.

By that time the following day, Dean thought they were both going to die. The bloody and uneven sigil on the wall, Cas no more than ten feet away. Not quite within a comforting reach. The room was spinning from the blow to his head, and he could barely make out the words being spat from Ishim’s mouth.

“You blast me away, you’ll blast away every angel in the room. I’ll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he’s hurt. He might live, or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall.”

He almost lost Cas that day.

The blood rushed to his ears as his instincts sought out the mark on the wall. Ishim had told him to roll the dice, but in his head he couldn’t look past the chance of rolling a one. Watching the acrylic cube bounce until it decided Cas’s fate. There was no dilemma, there wasn’t even a decision to be made. He would always choose Cas over himself. Silent acts of care he could never vocalize.

An inability to speak formed from fear and cowardice. Like a lion in his stomach scratching at the words until they fell back down his throat.

And it was that inability to speak that led Cas to think he was nothing more than a tool for the Winchester’s to use.

He almost let Cas believe he meant nothing to him.

Dean cleared his throat. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”

Cas set down the bag of sugar and picked up the pot, the glass making a small clink as it hit the top of the coffee maker. “Goodmorning Dean. Would you like any coffee?” He greeted cheerfully, turning around like he hadn't just put enough sugar to make a pound cake in his coffee.

“Uh.” Dean was still caught off-guard by Willie Wonka over there. “Sure Cas.” He took the coffee pot from his hand and muttered a thank you.

“So,” Cas started while Dean reached into the cabinet for his own mug. “What ingredient do you suggest I put in my coffee this morning?”

“Uh...I don't know man. I drink my coffee black.”

“Yes I know you’re boring Dean, but you can still help me not be.”

“Black coffee isn't boring it's-”

“Dean, if you say ‘manly,’ I will sit you down and make you eat only spinach and kale for a week.” Sam said, walking into the kitchen, hair still spiked up from sleep. He used one hand to sign the words, his other one occupied by Eileen, who was sleepily shuffling closely behind.

Dean looked aghast. “I would starve.” He attempted to sign his indignant response, hands moving sloppily while holding both his mug and the coffee pot.

“I think that's the point.” Eileen said, laughing. She looked at Cas. “Is Dean gatekeeping your coffee aspirations again?”

“Yes.” He answered, ignoring Sam’s laugh and Dean’s huff of exaggerated outrage.

“Have you tried cinnamon?” Sam suggested. “You like Dean’s apple pie, and that has cinnamon in it.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Sam. Dean told me not to ever take cooking advice from you.“

“And I stand by that.” Dean interjected suddenly.

“I can cook!”

“Ehhh…” Eileen’s comment bought her a look of betrayal. “Though Sam may be right on this one, you might like it.” She shrugged.

“See.”

Cas pondered the thought for a moment. “Perhaps I will then.”

“Do we have nutmeg?” Eileen said, breaking away from Sam’s grip to check one of the cabinets. He walked to the other side of the kitchen, intending to look through the spice rack, knowing exactly what his girlfriend was getting at.

“You better not mess up my damn kitchen.” He said quickly. “Or you're organising them all next time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well Dean would never let him organise the kitchen. Eileen looked through them, carefully turning the bottles around until the labels faced her. She pulled out the cinnamon and clove while she was looking for the nutmeg.

“Found it.” Sam called from the other side of the kitchen, walking over and putting a hand on Eileen’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” She said with a smile, grabbing the plastic spice jars.

She individually tossed each one to Cas. “Use these, it will taste like a pumpkin spice latte.”

“And don't forget the milk.” Sam added.

Cas scrambled to catch the spices, successfully grabbing two of them out of the air, the third one intercepted by Dean.

“What’s a pumpkin spice latte?” He looked at Eileen before snatching the bottle of cinnamon from Dean.

“It's a famous drink you can get at Starbucks.” Sam answered.

Cas tilted his head to the side and squinted at him. “What's a Starbucks?”

“You know, the coffee shop Alex and Patience drag Jody to all the time.” Dean said.

“I’m pretty sure Donna drags her there too.” Sam added. “Something about girl’s date night out.”

“The one Claire says is for ‘basic bitches’?” He lifted his hands, forming air quotes as he spoke.

“Yeah.” Dean answered, quietly laughing. “That's the one. She’s probably right, too.”

Cas carefully put the different spices in his coffee, eyeing the mug warily. His light brown coffee now had specs of...stuff in it.

(And unbeknownst to him, there was also a small pile of sugar at the bottom, the coffee so saturated it wouldn't dissolve any more.)

Eileen laughed at the look on his face. “It's good, I promise.”

Sam turned to look at her. “How would you know? Most of the time you get hot chocolate and spike it with bourbon.”

“You’re the one who gets a Pink Drink.”

Dean choked on his coffee. “What?”

“It's strawberry and coconut milk, and it's delicious.”

“Sure it is Sam.” Eileen jabbed.

“So what I'm getting here is that not only have you two been to Starbucks often enough to have a regular order, but Sam gets something called a ‘Pink Drink’?”

“No…” Sam started, trying to find a way to defend them. “Sometimes we…”

“...Make our own drinks.” Eileen snapped her fingers as she finished for him, attempting to save them from the endless stream of good-natured insults Dean would throw at them otherwise.

“Well you two are a real Martha Stewart, aren't you?”

“Yeah, except she's a convicted criminal.” Sam attempted to snark back.

“So are you!”

Before either of them could respond, Cas shoved his mug into Dean's face. “You have to try this, Dean. It tastes like pumpkin pie.”

Dean carefully grabbed the hot mug from Cas and took a sip. He was right, it did taste kinda like pumpkin pie. He took another sip, letting the pleasant flavor sit on his tongue. The different spices mixed perfectly together.

“I mean it's… okay.” He lied.

Dean contemplated his pumpkin themed food options. “Though I would rather just have pumpkin pie.”

Cas took his mug back. “Fine. More for me.” He said with a smirk, mimicking the look Dean gives him every time Cas says he doesn't want anymore bacon, before taking another sip of the makeshift pumpkin spice coffee.

Dean smiled at him, setting his own mug down and moving Cas’s out of the way to pull him into a kiss. He could smell the nutmeg almost as much as he could taste the cinnamon on his lips.

“Mmm we should bake pumpkin pie tonight.” He said, pulling away just enough so he could talk.

“I would like that.” Cas answered. “All four of us could make pie. According to the 'mom blogs', as you call them, it would be a good family bonding exercise.”

“That’s right. And if they want any pie, they gotta help make it. That means more for us if they refuse.” He grinned.

“A win-win situation, really.” Cas smiled before tugging Dean close so their lips met again.

“I love you.” Dean muttered.

“I love you too.” Cas said softly.

Behind their backs Sam and Eileen were fake-gagging at their sickly sweet interaction, but secretly just glad the two of them had finally gotten over their stubborn (and oblivious) selves.

Sam was honestly overjoyed to see his brother finally happy. He would even go as far as saying finally willing to be himself, too. (Not that he would ever say this outloud. Sam can practically see Dean’s eyes roll farther back into his head than should be possible at the words.) All four of them had gone through more shit in the last few months than any normal person would in their entire life. They were all just lucky to be alive, and with that, learning how to savour the little moments of overly sweet normalcy.

(And the pumpkin spice-life Dean had secretly been longing for since they were little kids.)

So of course they were going to help bake pie.

---

“I want to try Starbucks.” Cas said the next morning, both of them still in bed.

Dean groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can I ask why, or is this one of those, 'I'll tell you later’ disasters like with the slime ingredients?”

“I want to try all the human things that I didn't get to try last time.” He said offhandedly.

Dean pictured Cas’s hurt face when he had told him he couldn’t stay, smile broken as Dean’s own heart shattered from the look the newly-human angel was giving him.

He wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, that Cas himself wasn’t the reason, but the lion in his stomach clawed the words down faster than even the thought of ruining Sam’s chances at survival could.

With a pang of guilt from the memory, Dean pulled himself closer to Cas and rested his head on the other man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to preserve as much warmth and comfort as he could until they had to inevitably get out of bed. “Only if you let me sleep like this for thirty more minutes.”

Cas smiled. “Oh, are we making deals now?”

“I’d sell my soul for you.” Dean said cheekily, which earned a glare from Cas. “Believe me, I know.”

After a beat he went on. “Fine, you have a deal.” Before Dean could celebrate by tugging the covers over their bodies, Cas added another clause to their agreement. “But... in true Crowley fashion, you have to seal the deal with a kiss.”

Dean lazily threw his arms into the air. “Victory.”

He turned over, pulling himself upwards until he was just inches from Cas. Cradling the angel-turned-Winchester’s head in his hands, Dean placed his lips on Cas’s, melting into the touch as he felt the other man’s arms wrap around his torso.

When he broke away from the kiss, Dean found himself face to face with the most beautiful smile he had ever laid eyes on, one born from adoration and love. Cas’s eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, but for once it wasn’t a sign of confusion when met with some obscure eighties rock reference. It was a tiny expression of care, and it was one that was truly Cas. Not Jimmy’s, not even one Cas had picked up from him or Sam. It was completely and wholly Cas, and a completely and wholly human thing to do.

He realized Cas had been doing that long before the Empty stole his grace.

Dean smiled back at him, relaxed. Like taking in a deep breath after being under murky water for forty years. He brushed a loose strand of soft, brown hair into its place, before falling back into his spot and closing his eyes. “Crowley would be proud.” He whispered with a soft laugh, smile deepening as Cas joined him.

When their quiet laughter died out, there was a pause, air stagnant and in its own sleepy haze

“Oh and Dean?”

“Hm?” Dean turned his head to look at him, eyes not failing to glow with their unusually bright, green pigment. He took a deep breath, the lids of his eyes already started to slowly fall back down again.

“The slime wasn't a disaster. You enjoyed it.”

“I did.” He muttered sleepily, a loose smile forming on his lips as he drifted off to sleep. Cas laid there, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, contentment and admiration showing itself in every feature on his face.

This was more than he could have ever wanted.

---

“Dean. Dean wake up.” Cas was excitedly whisper-shouting in his ear like a kid on Christmas morning. It was exactly thirty minutes later, (he had counted), and Cas was ready to get moving.

“No.” He answered back, mimicking Cas’s tone.

“But you’re like a cat.” He teased. “You're on me and I can't get up.”

Dean sighed. “I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”

“It didn't take much convincing.”

Dean rolled over to give Cas a playful glare, but was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, completely throwing him off his guard.

“I'm going to kill Sam for teaching you that.”

Cas just continued to give him that look.

“Fine.” Dean relented, sitting up with a yawn and thinking about how he will now never be able to win another argument.

“Get dressed.” Cas said excitedly. “We're going to Starbucks.”

“Hooray.” He gave a sarcastic laugh, but a smile creeped on his lips.

They walked out of their room together, heading towards the bunker’s library. Dean slid in one of the chairs, turning Sam’s still-open laptop around and waking it up.

Cas, meanwhile, turned to a random page of the lore book resting on the table and started reading in an attempt to pass the time.

The sound of Dean typing filled the air. “So, I just looked it up, and do we have to go to Starbucks?”

“Yes.” Cas said simply, not looking up from the book.

Dean groaned. “Cas there isn't one in the county, let alone Lebanon. That's probably why Sam and Eileen make their own.”

“Where's the closest one?” Cas asked, his blinding, blue eyes glaring at the back of Sam’s computer like he was trying to will the coffee shop to be near.

“I thought it was across state lines and in Nebraska at first, but it looks like there's a small one in a town called Washington. It's about 80 miles from here.”

“Let's go!” Cas excitedly straightened his trenchcoat and headed towards the door.

“Or, we could leave Starbucks to the fourteen year old girls.”

Cas turned back around and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure their entire demographic is fourteen year old girls, staff included.”

Alright, smartass. Dean thought, struggling to hide a smile.

Cas walked out the door, expecting Dean to follow.

“It takes an hour to get there, our coffee’s going to be cold by the time we get home, and it's freezing outside.” Dean muttered under his breath, but he grabbed his keys off the table and stood up, willing to follow Cas to the ends of the earth if it meant he would stay with him.

Not that he was going to enjoy this trip. In fact, he was currently doing the opposite of enjoying, and they hadn’t even gotten into the car yet. Starbucks. Starbucks. Really, Cas? Of all the places he wanted to go, it had to be Starbucks. He couldn’t want to explore humanity through Target or something?

Even Claire wouldn’t be caught dead in that place, with all the frou-frou toppings, elaborate drink mixes, and colourful, drizzled syrup. The people who go to Starbucks are the kind of people who like coffee that doesn’t taste like coffee. Teenage girls who might as well just be drinking whip cream, and that was without considering the seasonal drinks they fawn over.

Seasonal drinks that shouldn’t legally be allowed to be referred to as coffee.

Dean couldn’t believe he ever agreed to this, but still, he begrudgingly followed.

---

Using the GPS on Cas’s phone, (Dean said his insane directional skills helped out too), they found the Starbucks relatively easily once they were in the little town.

They parked the Impala, and Dean looked at the modern building. The green lettering contrasted with the tan plaster walls, spelling “Starbucks.”

He heard Cas get out, his feet making a crunching noise as they hit the gravel, and watched from across the top of the car as he started towards the coffee shop. Dean looked at the building warily, reluctance painted on his face.

Cas was telling him some random fact about a bird he saw, but Dean could only think about his reputation that was about to shatter like a vase dropping on tile floor.

Reputation with who? He didn't know.

Well, he had a vague idea, but chose not to let his thoughts wander that far.

It was okay. This was fine. He could swallow his pride and-

“Ooh. The peppermint mocha looks good.” Cas was reading the limited edition drinks on the drive-thru menu as they traveled across the parking lot.

Dean was going to barf.

They walked into the building, immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of excessive amounts of flavoured syrup indoused coffee. Dean glanced around the well-lit building, taking note of the many different people there.

(He wasn’t about to have any black-eyed minions reporting his Starbucks order to a very judgmental Queen of Hell.)

Cas pushed Dean’s protesting body into the line, looking pleased with the many different options written on the menu overhead.

He enjoyed the small touch of Cas’s hands on his back, moving him forwards to the line, but was grateful Cas was careful not to let them linger there too long.

He was still wary about doing… this, in public.

He knew Cas was patiently waiting for him to be ready, so he didn't know how to tell him that he might never be.

The teenager working the cash register interrupted his train of thought. “What will it be for ya?”

“I would like a peppermint mocha please.”

“Alrighty. And you?”

“I'll take just a black coffee.”

The barista looked unimpressed. “And your names?”

Dean grinned. “John and John.”

“No relation.” Cas added.

The barista just sighed. “How do you want me to differentiate the two of ‘em then?”

“Oh you can put ‘John Bonham’ on mine.” Dean replied.

“Comin’ right up.” Their tone didn't change, still just full of apathy that could only be perfected by the work of a burnt-out teenager.

Dean and Cas walked down to the end of the counter and towards the pickup section. “Now tell me, Castiel.” He stressed his partner’s name. “Who’s John Bonham?”

Cas sighed, but the corner of his mouth upturned in a grin. “John Henry Bohnham, affectionately referred to as ‘Bonzo’, born in 1948 and was most well known for being the drummer of the rock band ‘Led Zeppelin’.”

“Mmm very close, but unfortunately you forgot the word ‘best’ in front of ‘rock band.’” Dean smirked before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

“You should have said I was ‘John Bon Jovi.’” Cas said, smiling.

“Why? Because you’re only good at this sometimes?” Dean closed the gap between them.

As soon as their lips met, Dean pulled away instinctively, realization hitting him like a hunter with a bat as his eyes widened in terror. “I-I'm sorry, I didn’t...” His words faltered as he looked around at the people sitting in the coffee shop, all of which were paying no mind to them.

He felt sick, guilt gnawing at him from a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, it's okay Dean. You know I'm perfectly fine with public displays of affection, and no one else even saw us. There's no need to apologize.”

“Yeah-h.” He said shakily. Before he could figure out who he was apologizing to, a voice from behind the counter called.

“I have an order for a mister ‘John’ and ‘John Bonham’.”

“That's us.” Dean spat the words out quickly, turning around to take them from the barista’s hand. He rushed out of the door, the small tinkling sound of the welcome bell and the blood rushing to his ears drowning out the sound of Cas’s call from behind.

He sat in the front seat of Baby, knowing he was being childish. Dean took a shaky breath and tried not to think about it.

About what the hell he was thinking, kissing Cas out in public like that. The judgemental eyes- black or not- that were watching. He thought about what his father would say, mind instantly going back to a moment in his childhood he has tried to forget since it happened, wondering where he went wrong.

About the time John had caught him and Lee, ignoring the weak excuses Dean was stuttering out. Skipping town faster than they had done in years.

About how the left side of his face had been a yellow-ish purple for weeks following, and the sore spot on his arm from where he caught the pavement as he flew towards it.

About how he had told Sam he just fell on a hunt. “Don't worry kid, you should have seen the vamp when I was done with him.” He swung his fist around in slow motion, pretending to punch an invisible enemy as his little brother giggled in childish bliss.

About how John never looked at him the same. The disgust in his eyes, harsh words on his lips.

About how he vowed to never disappoint his father like that again, and their joint hatred for that part of him. Sometimes it felt like the only thing they could agree on.

About how somewhere, somehow, he had decided Cas was different. That he somehow didn’t count, and that losing him hurt so much, was such an egregious pain, he wanted as much of Cas as he was allowed to have. And how that was something insurmountable stronger than the twisted, sick feeling John had placed in his gut.

He remembered something Cas had told him once: “Hatred isn’t a natural trait, Dean, it’s a learned one. A baby isn’t born with the ability to hate, it’s passed on from one broken soul to another. Love, love however. That’s something different altogether.”

Cas’s hand on his shoulder pulled Dean out of his thoughts. “Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey Cas.”

“I love you.” He got in the passenger's seat, taking his coffee from Dean’s still frozen hand.

“I love you too.” He whispered absentmindedly, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but thoughts from the past. His mind fighting an internal battle, logic telling him that what he had with Cas wasn’t wrong, and even though everything from fate to God had tried to wedge itself between them, it was still the most right thing he had. And he knew that, but his dad’s drunken, booming voice echoed throughout his head, telling him that he was dirty. Telling him the Winchester men had no place for someone like him.

“You better stop that now, boy. Bad things happen to you when you’re weak.”

At the time he had taken that as a warning, rather than a threat. But now Dean wasn’t so sure.

It’s not even that his Dad was particularly religious. He wasn’t told that it was a sin, or that he was going to Hell. Though it’s not like that particular statement would have been wrong. He thought with a bitter laugh.

While the thoughts in his head were screaming mercilessly, the drive home was in a simple silence. The only noise being Cas’s occasional sip, and the sound of soft fabric rubbing against skin as Cas moved his hand in small, comforting motions against Dean's back.

When they got to the bunker, Cas, who was genuinely impressed that Dean managed to drive them home without crashing into a tree, pulled Dean out of the car and gently shook him out of his self-imposed stupor.

“Your coffee's cold.” Cas said with a laugh.

Dean blinked a couple times, clearing the fog from his mind, before laughing along with him. “And who’s fault is that? You were the one who insisted on traveling across the state to get it.”

“Do you want some of mine?” Cas asked. “There's a little bit left, and I held it next to the heater. It should still be lukewarm.”

“No thanks, Cas. I can go make some in the kitchen.”

“But what if I want you to try it?” Dean glared at him. “Don't make me do Sam’s ‘puppy dog eyes’ again.”

“Okay, okay. You win.” He put his hands up, mimicking a surrender. “I'll try some of your stupid, Christmas cookie, candy-cane flavoured coffee thing or whatever.” They started walking towards the entrance to the bunker.

“Peppermint mocha?”

“That's the one.”

Cas laughed at him.

“Oh just, give it here.” Dean said. He took a long sip from the disposable cup. He could taste a vague hint of whipped cream mixed in with the coffee, its light fluffy texture sticking to the last swallow of smooth liquid in the bottom of the cup. The chocolate and espresso rested on his tongue, and the peppermint was strong and refreshing. He took another sip.

“Does that face mean you like it?”

Dean looked at him guiltily. “No.” He opened the bunker’s door and started walking down the metal stairs.

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don't.”

“You took a second sip.”

Dean reached the bottom of the stairs first, and walked over to the War Room table to set both coffee cups and his keys down.

“So? I was trying to make sure I properly understood the flavour. Since when is that a crime?”

“You wanted to properly understand a flavour you didn't like?” Cas walked up to Dean and pulled the nearest chair out to sit down.

“What are you two arguing about this time?” Eileen asked from the library.

Cas clenched both of his hands into fists, putting the right one on top of the other. He made small, circular, stirring motions with his right hand. “Coffee.” He signed swiftly, movements fluid.

“Ah. That makes sense.” She spoke the words.

“What makes sense?” Sam asked, walking in from one of the hallways, making sure Eileen could see his lips before speaking.

“They're arguing over coffee again.”

Sam glanced at both of them, before his eyes reached the two cups on the War Room table.

“Wait a second… Dean?” He looked at his brother, before turning to face his best friend. “Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” Cas answered.

“Did you two go to Starbucks?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Dean grumbled.

“Yes, we did!” Cas sounded way too excited to be referring to coffee. “I got a peppermint mocha, and Dean tried some and liked it.”

“I did not.”

“I don't care what coffee you like, Dean. What I do care about is that you went all the way to Starbucks, and didn't bother to ask if we wanted to come.”

“Not cool Dean.” Eileen walked in, shaking her head and hiding a smile.

“I might have thought about buying you two drinks, but there was no way I was ordering yours with a straight face.” He looked at Sam. “And it's an hour away, they wouldn't have been hot or cold or whatever they're supposed to be by the time we got here.”

“Well then we'll just have to go back, all four of us.” Eileen put simply.

“It's an hour away.”

“We know.” Sam added.

“Let me say that again, in case you weren’t listening. It's an hour away. For coffee. That isn't even that good.”

“I beg to differ, Dean.” Cas said.

“Yeah I'm definitely with Cas on this one.” Eileen agreed while Sam nodded along.

“No. There's no way I'm getting back in Baby to drive all the way to Starbucks again.”

“Fine. We’ll go get our own.”

“With what car?” Dean said, very sure of himself.

Sam snatched Baby’s keys off the war room table, which in hindsight was probably something Dean should have expected.

“Let's hope Sam doesn't have too many shots of espresso.” Eileen said, faking concern. “I would hate for your baby to pay the price.”

“Fine. I'll drive you.” Dean grumbled while Eileen double fist-pumped her win.

Cas looked very pleased with the thought of getting to try more coffee.

---

They left shortly after, the drive over painful for everyone except Dean, who listened to the same four songs on repeat the entire hour.

(It’s their own fault, really.)

---

“Can we please listen to something other than Bob Seger on the trip home?” Sam complained as he slammed shut the door to Baby’s backseat.

“You’re just mad you didn’t get shotgun.” Dean said, closing his own door. “Besides, driver picks the music, everyone else shuts their cakehole.” Sam mouthed the words along with Dean, having heard the speech a million times before.

Eileen and Cas got out, neither one of them had any desire to input on their squabble, and were instead engaged in their own, quieter discussion.

Both brothers continued to argue until they walked into the Starbucks.

“Ah. There's the scent of overpriced coffee I missed.” Eileen joked as she took her first breath inside the building, using her hand to waft the smell towards her.

“What are you getting?” Cas asked Sam.

“I want my usual, and Eileen, what are you having?”

“Hot chocolate with espresso shots please. This place doesn't sell liquor.” She shook her head sadly and Sam laughed. “Good thing I brought my own.” She winked at them, opening her jacket just enough so they could see the inside pocket and showing off her flask.

“Oh, now that would be a Starbucks I would go to.” Dean said.

“You two wait in line.” Sam pointed to Cas and Dean. “We’ll save a table.”

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but they walked away before he had the chance. Cas leaned over towards him. “Don't worry. I'll order Sam’s.” He very conspicuously winked.

Dean smiled at his attempts of regular human interaction, before over-the-top winking himself.

“Can you order for us? I need to talk to Sam about something.”

“Sure thing…” Cas had to think before finishing his sentence. “...buckaroo.”

Dean outwardly cringed. “Keep trying, you'll get there eventually.” He patted Cas on the back, which was slightly moving in a chuckle.

It was good to see Cas filled with so much simple joy. Face creased from laughter rather than stress, he seemed so much lighter. Happier. It was only a small sliver of what he deserved, but it was something. Maybe he could live with driving an hour to get what he assumed was half-decent coffee.

“What would you like?” Cas asked him, eyes still filled with a sparkle that only comes from gaining something you thought you lost.

“Uh.” He thought about it for a moment, almost considering branching out into the unexplored terrain that was the dark green menu with small, white text, before shuddering at the thought.

“I think I'll take that expensive black coffee I didn't get earlier.”

Dean was not going to turn into one of those people, if he had any say about it.

Cas walked into the line, leaving Dean to scan the room, furiously waving Sam over when his eyes found their booth.

“Sam.” He sounded like he was trying to whisper, but his volume raised far higher than that. The patron closest to Dean gave him a look before turning back to their work.

“Sam, come here, it's urgent.” His brother turned to look at him, rolling his eyes before getting out of the booth.

“What do you want?” He said once he reached Dean.

“Sam. Help. What do I do?”

“About what?”

“About what kind of coffee Cas is having.”

“Oh god, Dean let it go. He's not going to only ever drink black coffee. Contrary to popular belief, former angels do actually have souls.”

Dean ignored the implications that he didn't have a soul, too distracted by Cas. “But look.” He motioned his head towards where Cas was standing, next in line to order. “He’s eyeing the weird fruity drinks.”

“Dean. It's Cas. The man’s favorite food is PB&J. What did you expect him to have, taste?”

“Alright that's rich coming from mister Pinkity Drinkity or whatever the fuck.”

“You walked into a Starbucks and ordered black coffee, I don't think I'm the wrong one here.”

“Wait, wait. Shut up. Quiet.” He hit Sam on the shoulder in a childish attempt at getting him to stop talking so he could listen.

“Ow. That hurt.” Sam muttered, before turning to watch Cas, which Dean was already doing.

“I would like to try a…” Cas methodically scanned the menu again. “A ‘Passion Tango Iced Tea,’ please.” The barista took no mind to the excessive air quotes.

“It's not even coffee.” Dean said to Sam, clearly distraught. He turned to look back at Cas.

“And your name sir?”

“Lizzo.”

Dean threw his arms up into the air. “I can't believe this is the man I love.” His voice cracked like he was holding in tears of anguish from listening to Cas order.

Sam just rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Right, and he’s the dramatic one.

“Aw. You're in love.” Sam held his hands up, forming a heart and mocking his brother.

“Oh shut up. What are you, seven?”

“Is Cas your gay thing?”

“You shut your mo-”

“What are we gossiping about?” Eileen whispered, cutting Dean off and causing them both to jump.

“We're not gossiping.” Sam said indignantly.

“Sam started it.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“This is where I call you two ‘asshats’, right?”

“It's ‘assbutt.’” Cas said, walking up to them and catching the tail end of their conversation. “And that's my line.”

Cas handed them each their drinks, before excitedly trying his own. He put the plastic cup up to his mouth, almost missing the straw. When he swallowed the cranberry-colored liquid, his face relaxed in pleasure.

“I know this one isn't coffee, but it's really good.”

“We didn't get coffee either.” Eileen said. “So don't worry, Dean's the odd man out here.”

Dean glared at her before trying his own coffee, and well, it was coffee. The point of buying expensive caffeine still went straight over his head.

The four of them went over to their thankfully-still-available booth and sat down. Dean and Cas sat on one side, both instinctively choosing the side that faced the door, with Sam and Eileen sliding into the seats directly across from them. They sat there, talking about nothing in particular, and certainly nothing of importance, before falling into the natural art of storytelling.

Aside from killing monsters, that’s what hunters did best. Sitting around and sharing stories. As tiring and dangerous as their lives were, some hunts were worth sharing exaggerated and hyperbolic versions of, especially over drinks.

Sam’s favourite story to tell changed every time, and one would almost be inclined to believe that most of it wasn't real, but the wildest parts also caused the most merriment. (Dean pretended he hadn’t witnessed the whole thing, sparing Sam by not telling the other two how it actually went down.)

Eileen shared of her time in Ireland. “Foreign country, foreign monsters.” She said with a wink, telling of creatures neither Sam nor Dean had even read about.

Dean’s favourite story to tell, aside from the fact that he killed Hitler, was the time he got to solve a mystery with everyone’s favorite talking dog. And yeah, all three of the people that sat at the table had heard both many times before, but that didn't matter, it was still enrapturing to hear them again.

Cas had millenniums to choose from, but always found the most interesting hunts to be the ones with the Winchesters. He also had many hilarious stories about his adventures with Crowley, but he was less fond of those.

“I remember once, Dean went on a hunt with Dad.” Sam started. “Nasty vampire, it got a hit or two on Dean. I think you guys went with another hunter. Young. About your age, actually. Uh…”

He snapped his fingers, trying to recall the name. “Lee. That's it.” Dean looked up from the coffee right as Sam said it. “Do you remember him?”

Something flashed in Dean’s eyes, but his brother didn't seem to notice.

Cas, who was used to admiring every minute detail of Dean's expression and posture, didn't miss the ever so slight, yet sharp, inhale. Or the way he swallowed before speaking, trying to clear the small lump from his throat.

Dean noticed too, internally rolling his eyes at his own reaction.

“Yeah it's been a while, but I remember him.” Dean was blatantly ignoring Cas’s burning stare from beside him, and the fact that he had stabbed Lee through the chest just last year.

Cas made sure no one was watching before gently placing a hand on Dean’s thigh. Knowing it would comfort him from both intuition and experience. Dean stiffened under the touch, but after realizing no one could see where Cas’s hand was, he visibly relaxed.

“What happened to him?” Eileen asked innocently.

“Oh uh, a hunt I think. Most of us go that way, I assume he was no different.” Technically Dean dealt the final blow, but it was the entrancing call of the monster, greed, and the life Lee and Dean had both secretly wanted, that caused his former-friend’s downfall in the end.

“Yeah.” Sam said solemnly, suddenly lost in his own thoughts, most of which were riddled with grief.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of their many losses wash over them like a tidal wave.

One made of espresso and milk rather than the rough waters of the sea.

---

The ride back was more manageable, Dean allowing them one song choice each, complete with a warning to pick wisely.

(They all very cheekily chose the songs they knew would bother Dean the most.)

---

Full on coffee, cookies Dean bought for them at Starbucks, and brimming with contentment, (as well as the fact that they spent half the day in the car), Cas suggested to Dean that they “hit the hay” as they stepped back into the bunker.

They laid there in silence, breathing in scents of comfort, coffee, and each other, until Cas eventually drifted off to sleep.

Dean, however, continued to lay there. Thinking.

He remembered the first solo case John sent him on.

Something curled inside his gut.

They had been two nuns, their fate a product of hate crime. Put to death for simply being themselves.

Dean didn't blame them for coming back as ghosts.

He remembered the words - ones he would soon learn were slurs - that John would spit out like acid.

Or offhandedly toss like they didn't bear enough weight to shatter the window of a person's self-image.

It had taken him almost forty years to realize that very same window inside of him was in sharp, jagged pieces. Cutting anyone and everyone who came near.

It had taken Cas dying to start picking them up again.

He turned to look at the man next to him, relaxed and blissfully sleeping. His chest moved up and down rhythmically, and Dean slowed his breath to match until he fell into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.

---

When Dean woke up, the other side of his bed was cold.

He didn't panic, knowing full well that Cas probably ran to the bathroom, or was pouring another mountain of sugar in his coffee.

Losing Cas again to the Empty had ripped him apart, but months of spending every night with his partner left him with less nightmares and waking in cold sweats then he had since before Hell.

Dean also learned that his own presence was enough to fight off the demons of solid, black goo that plagued Cas’s head at night.

He was finally starting to understand why life seemed to lose all meaning when Cas was gone, and from there he could slowly start to rebuild both of them.

Dean heard soft padding noises as socked feet walked down the hall, and there was a knock on the bedroom door. "S'your room too, Cas. You don't have to knock." He laughed, words slightly slurred from just waking up

Cas walked in, wielding two mugs of coffee and a proud look shining in his eyes. “I made us coffee.” He said triumphantly, handing one of the mugs to Dean.

“I put chocolate and peppermint in your coffee.”

Dean fake-gasped. “You monster. Ruining the integrity of my drink like that.”

“I'm a human, you ass.” Cas responded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, I know you liked mine yesterday.”

“I did not.” He said, discontentedly crossing his arms. “I only drink coffee that's as black as my soul. Darker than the night sky. Hotter than the bunker’s computer when it overheats. As manly as-”

“Oh, just drink your damn coffee.”

“Fine.” He groused. “But I'm not enjoying it.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at him, before setting his mug on the bedside table and sitting down behind Dean. The bed creaked underneath him as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “Is this why you and Sam never use umbrellas?” He joked.

Dean laughed.

Cas rested his head on the crook of Dean’s neck and whispered. “You know you don't have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Dean asked softly.

“You know.”

“That I don’t like flavoured coffee?” He said with a snort.

“Sort of.” Cas hugged him tighter. “No one’s going to think any less of you Dean. You’re allowed to like the things you like.”

“I know.” He resigned.

“John isn't here anymore.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” The words barely came out as a whisper, hot tears betraying Dean’s eyes as they silently leaked out and ran down his cheeks.

He tried to wipe the tears away, hearing his Dad’s voice in his head and knowing he was being stupid.

Dean couldn't help but think of himself as a small, living-room window, from an old, dilapidated house. Stained yellow with age. Cracking from wear.

He let the drumming of his Dad’s words in his head be drowned out by Cas’s voice.

He couldn't unwrap the fuzz from around him, so he didn't know what Cas was saying, ears seemingly filled with cotton. It was just the knowledge alone that he was there. That he was holding him and whispering comforting words into his ear. That even as a human he could heal Dean at his lowest points, and still see him as the brightest, strongest, soul.

You don't really know what a picture is going to be until it's done.

Maybe that window is a beautiful stained-glass portrait.

“Uh.” Dean cleared his throat. “What-what do you have?” He indicated Cas’s coffee by angling his head towards where it sat on the nightstand.

“I made iced coffee.”

Dean just looked at him, astounded, eyes widening. “You mean it’s not hot?”

“Yes, that's where the ‘iced’ in ‘iced coffee’ comes from.” He said very seriously.

They both sat in silence for the next hour, peacefully drinking their coffee and enjoying the presence of one another.

---

When they got out of bed and ventured into the rest of the bunker, they found Sam and Eileen in the library.

They were sitting in adjacent chairs, with Eileen laying her head on Sam’s shoulder and reaching for her water bottle on the table. They were reading a book together, but Eileen shook Sam indicating she had seen them walk in.

“Goodmorning.” She greeted cheerfully.

“Mornin’.” Dean pulled up a chair across from them, and watched as Cas did the same.

“What are you two reading?” Cas asked.

“The Men of Letters’s Bestiary.” Sam said.

Dean snorted. “Ah. Doing a little light reading are we?”

“We're thinking about filling in some of the pages.” Eileen added.

“Yeah, for all of the stuff they have here, it's surprisingly empty.” Sam continued flipping through some of the pages, most of which were blank.

“Heh. I should put you in that thing, Cas.”

Cas let out a laugh. “Right. Because I’m a good example of an angel.” The sarcasm was masking something else in his voice.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve always been my favourite angel.” Dean only realised how sappy he sounded after it came out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rest of them are dicks.” Eileen added.

Cas smiled at that, seemingly back to normal.

“Right, well you three can do that, I'm off to the Dean Cave.”

“Or…” Sam started.

“We could go back to Starbucks.” Cas finished, nodding his head enthusiastically.

“Yeah... that's not where I was going with that, but I like where your head’s at, Cas. We should definitely go back.”

“Eileen?” He asked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Dean?”

Dean pressed his mouth into a thin line and glared at him. “Yes, sure, fine. But we're not making this a daily thing.”

“That's fair.” Cas agreed. “It's probably not very healthy.”

He went to grab his wallet and keys before Sam could start his speech on the nutritional value of green things, and Eileen snatched her water bottle off the library table as they all got up to leave.

---

Dean gave up on letting them choose the music after snickering and requesting “Friday” by Rebecca Black for the third time in a row.

(It wasn't even Friday?)

---

Dean stepped out and closed Baby’s door in the parking lot of Starbucks an hour later, kicking the loose pieces of gravel on the asphalt for the third time in two days.

“We might as well just live here.” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I wouldn't make that offer if I were you, Cas looks like he’d be totally on board.” Sam laughed.

Cas went and stood beside Dean as they started walking towards the building, smiling.

“What?” Dean asked, question genuine and free of all malice.

“Nothing.” Cas answered, smile not faltering.

His eyes revealed nothing but pure devotion for the man he was staring at. A silent promise, one without pressure, that he would be standing there, and Dean could take the leap anytime he wanted.

Dean was slowly inching towards the end of the diving board.

---

“I think I'll just drink my water.”

“Oh that's exciting.” Sam joked. “If I got you a lemon to go with it, would you be able to handle that?”

“Don't talk to me about my drink, when yours is a vivid green puke colour.”

“Hey, at least it actually has a colour. And a flavour at that.”

Dean couldn’t believe those words were coming from the same man who drinks exactly a hundred and one ounces of water a day. (Which, according to Sam, is the recommended amount for males, as stated by the Institute of Medicine.)

(Dean didn’t care.)

“Fine then.” She turned to look at Dean. “Get me the strongest thing on the menu.”

Dean laughed before turning to Cas. “Let's just go get in line before we suffer at the hands of the Leahy like Sam.”

Sam and Eileen went to look for a place where they could all sit again, playfully bickering the entire way.

While he was standing in line with Cas, Dean looked over at his brother, and found him and Eileen sitting at a small table in the corner.

Cas was still helping him learn ASL, so he caught parts of their conversation.

“If Jack is in every drop of rain, do you think he's in your water?” Sam signed, trying to contain his laughter.

Eileen pushed her water away with a look of disgust. “You’re lucky I love you.” She answered back.

“I know I am.”

He watched her silently laugh before turning back to look at Cas.

They really did have it good, didn't they?

“What are you ordering, Dean?”

Dean stood there silently, contemplating. He internally weighed his pros and cons, mind leaving the menu entirely. While there was still a lot of shit he had to work through, (shit he had been actively not working out his entire life), there wasn’t much of a decision to be made.

He would always choose Cas.

“You know what?” He reached out and grasped Cas’s hand firmly. “I was thinking about being less boring. What ingredients do you suggest I try?”

Cas smiled warmly, reaching the crinkled corners of his eyes. “They have a cinnamon flavoured one. That’ll be almost like apple pie.”

“Will it really?” Dean’s tone was dismissive, but there was a smile on his face.

“Yes, Sam told me.“

“Not that I trust Sam’s judgment, but okay, I think I’ll take one of those.”

“I'm going to have a real pumpkin spice latte this time.” Cas seemed very pleased with the aspect of buying something they could make it home, but Dean wasn't going to fault him for it.

The patron in front of them finished ordering, clearing the way for Cas and Dean. The barista from the first time they went caught sight of them and made a face. “Wait a minute. I think I know you two.”

“Yes, we came here yesterday.” Cas helped. “Well, we actually visited twice, but you weren't working the second time.”

“Right... John and John, how could I forget?”

“This time we're ordering for four though.”

“I would like a…” Dean squinted at the menu, looking for the cinnamon flavoured coffee. “‘Cinnamon Dolce Latte.’ And my devilishly handsome friend here will take the pumpkin spice version.”

“And what are the other two drinks and names?”

Dean whispered something in Cas’s ear. “I'll drink the coffee, but I won't budge on this one.”

“That's okay Dean, you’ll get there eventually.” He whispered back.

The barista looked unimpressed with them. Again.

Dean cleared his throat. “Ahem, sorry. The tall one with the stupidly long hair,” he pointed towards Sam, “is getting…” he trailed off before looking to Cas for help.

“I don't know, man. It was something sickly looking. Cold? Green? Possibly tea?”

“And Iced Green Tea Latte?” The barista suggested.

“That's the one. His name is Jimmy.”

“And the lovely lady sitting next to him would like the strongest drink you have. Her name is Robert.”

“Her name is Robert…?” He slowly pointed towards Eileen, sounding unsure of himself.

Or them.

“Yup.” Cas said.

Eileen gave a little wave from across the room.

He gritted his teeth in a very clearly fake smile. “Coming right up.”

They paid for their coffee and picked it up, taking the travel cups across the room and towards Sam and Eileen.

Cas took a sip from his pumpkin spice latte, gleefully smiling. “As much as I like trying different drinks, I think I might start just getting this one. It's my favourite.”

Sam leaned over to Dean, neither one taking their eyes off of Cas. “Should we tell him the drink is seasonal?” He glanced at Sam, before staring back at his partner, whose face was beaming like a literal ray of sunshine.

Dean’s face softened. “Nah. Let’s not ruin his moment.” He took a sip of his cinnamon coffee and damn, it was delicious.

Nothing at all like apple pie, but still delicious.

Cas walked over to him, making eye contact in a silent question. Dean nodded with a small smile, and Cas took his hand.

“I love you.” Cas whispered.

“I love you too.” He whispered back.

They didn’t whisper to hide, and it wasn't because he was ashamed. It was because that exchange was just for them.

Dean leaned in and softly kissed Cas.

Now that was to tell everyone in the shop that his devilishly handsome friend was spoken for.

Slowly, the sun would come out and shine through the stained-glass window, shadow portraying the picture of an angel.

And alright, fine, Dean could admit that he enjoyed the peppermint mocha.

He thought about it for a moment, before giving a light chuckle, realising something.

“What?” Cas asked, turning to look at him with a soft smile resting on his face.

“Nothing.” Dean whispered, squeezing Cas’s hand in his. He took a sip from his coffee, relishing in the warm and cozy flavour enrapturing his tongue.

He was only thinking that maybe, just maybe,

Cas had changed him too.

---

Bonus Epilogue:

Dean held the glass door open for the other three, and they all walked out onto the asphalt, laughing, and making their way towards Baby.

The street lamp overhead flickered, and all four of them froze.

“Did anyone happen to get the salted caramel macchiato?” Dean whispered.

---

-This fic on Ao3 (Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.)

-Writing Tag

-Ao3

-Request fics/drabbles/ficlets. (Please)

[tirednotflirting]

i could do without a tan on my left hand where my fourth finger meets my knuckle

hello again i was here approx ten min ago and now i am back. kinda. also jesus that title looks LONG wow

this is not new! this was posted to ao3 a touch under a month ago for my darling @clumsyclifford​‘s birthday and i’m just a dummy and never posted it to tumblr. so here i am sdlkfjsdl

i got very VERY emo over my love for bella in the a/n on ao3 so you can read my love letter there hehe. bella, babes, i love you so crazy much and i feel so lucky to know you and to call you a friend. thank you for teaching me how to love the things i create and encourage me to really actually grow as a writer. it’s been a lot of fun and a great deal of the confidence i have in myself now is thanks to the early support i got from people like yourself. hope you have a happy wednesday filled with many cups of tea <3

here this is on ao3 if that’s more ur jam 

Love is a mug of tea.

2020, Maryland

Alex loves his kitchen.

He loves the big island right in the center of it and the windows over the sink facing out toward the barn. He loves the random assortment of tea towels his mom gave him when he first moved out, and how they’ve traveled with him to each new home over the years. He loves the fridge with lots of space for pictures of friends and family that greet him each time he walks into the room.

The sun is just rising over the top of the barn. He’s been awake for a little over an hour now. Starting his days in the barn is something he’s grown to love, the early mornings for feeding and greeting his animal friends being the only way he can manage being up before the sun. Once he made it back to the house, he quickly showered before throwing his pajamas back on. There was nowhere else they needed to be today so he figured it appropriate.

He fills and sets his kettle to boil in the corner. The clock on the microwave tells Alex it’s 7AM and he hears the familiar click of the coffee machine starting up. (He had been particularly proud of himself when he figured out how to use that setting.) Alex grabs a couple mugs and drops a tea bag into the one he’s claimed for himself for the morning just as the kettle clicks off. He pours water into the mug and hops up onto the island to wait for the tea to steep.

Alex is scrolling down his Twitter feed a couple minutes later when he hears human footsteps followed by the tapping of the dogs’ nails against the tile. He locks his phone and sets it beside him just in time for Jack to step between Alex’s legs and wrap his arms around his waist. Alex laughs quietly as Jack drops his head to rest against his chest. “Good morning, my love,” Alex greets him in a scratchy voice and runs his fingers through Jack’s bedhead.

Jack hums at the feeling and leans his head back against Alex’s hand. “Hello,” he replies. He sighs and moves to stand straight before leaning in to press a quick kiss to Alex’s lips. Jack smiles lazily and turns to the counter where the coffee machine sits. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Was up later than I wanted to be on that call with Mark trying to figure out the plan for next week.”

“You two are always chatty,” Jack says with a smile in his voice while he stirs sugar and milk into his mug. “What time is our flight out tomorrow again?”

Alex slides off the counter to the floor and takes the spot beside Jack, taking the milk carton from him when it’s offered to add to his tea. “Not until the evening. We can probably sleep in a bit, if you want to.”

“I like the way you think,” Jack responds, accepting the milk again when Alex holds it in his direction. He wraps an arm around Alex’s middle to pull him back against chest and presses his lips to Alex’s temple before stepping away to the fridge. Alex feels something pull at the leg of his pajama pants and when he looks down, both of the dogs sit at his feet. He laughs and abandons his mug on the counter to head out of the kitchen towards the back door. Tiny paws click against the wood floor behind him. They race out the door when he finally gets it open.

When he returns to the kitchen, a gentle smile pulls at his lips and he leans against the doorframe for a moment to admire the view. Jack sits in his regular seat at the kitchen island. He’s put his glasses on sometime in the last minute or so since Alex left the room. One hand holds the handle of his coffee mug while the other holds open a novel his mom had sent home with him after he visited her earlier in the week. The sunrise shines through the window over the sink, painting the room in yellow-orange light. It’s a view Alex knows he’s never going to get tired of.

He loves mornings with Jack. When they’re spending their time like this, with their shared early morning routines or deciding who will do what chores around the house that day, it’s easy to imagine spending the rest of his life like this. He can see them, years from now, hosting holiday parties on the farm or arguing over why they should or shouldn’t watch National Treasure 2 for the twelfth time that month, and it takes everything in him not to race back upstairs to grab the ring box he’s got hiding in the back of his closet.

Alex loves his kitchen. Though, as he watches Jack smile down at his novel before pausing to sip from his mug, Alex realizes that the thought of sharing the space with the person he loves has made him love it infinitely more.

“Hey, Jack?”

Jack hums in acknowledgement without looking up from his book.

“Do you want to move in?”

Jack looks up to meet his gaze from across the counter. His brows raise in what is probably surprise and a tiny smile forms across his lips. “Sure.”

“Really?”

Jack folds the corner of the page he’s on before closing it shut. “What? Did you think I’d say no?”

Alex shakes his head with a laugh. “No, I just wasn’t really sure what else to say,” he explains. “I’m just, I don’t know, excited? This is gonna be fun.”

Alex shuffles around the counter into Jack’s open arms that settle around his waist. “It is,” Jack agrees. “Though, I will say, if I’m going to help around the farm more, we’re gonna have to give Milk a talk.”

Alex rolls his eyes and lifts his arms to rest on Jack’s shoulders. “I already told you, the goat is not flirting with you. He bites everyone’s ass.”

“Your goat is trying to steal me away from you.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you.” Jack says, sincerely. A moment later, he cracks and laughs as he tugs Alex in closer. He presses another kiss against his lips. “You realize our mothers are going to start their wedding planning thing again once we tell them about this though, right?”

“Maybe I’ll join them for their brunches this time around,” Alex suggests and lets his forehead rest against Jack’s.

“Sure. Just make sure they’ve got next June blocked off since we’ll be on tour,” Jack replies jokingly before squeezing Alex’s waist to move him aside so he can stand to get more coffee. Alex steals his seat and watches him go through the motions of making his second mug. Without asking, Jack sets the kettle to boil again and pulls the box of Alex’s tea out of the cupboard. The sun has risen more and casts a golden glow on Jack through the window while he rinses his mug. Jack’s always looked his best in the morning, Alex thinks. He considers pulling his phone out to snap a picture, but then he remembers that this exact image isn’t going to be one that’s limited by whatever things might be keeping them stuck in their own homes on opposite sides of the country. That home isn’t going to be a plural for them anymore.

He thinks back to the ring box. Maybe it’s going to need a better hiding spot now.

Jack turns back to Alex, a puzzled look on his face, likely in response to Alex’s lack of a response to his question. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they know.”

“Good,” Jack says with a wink. He reaches across the counter for his book. “Gonna go finish this chapter on the porch. Care to join?”

Alex smiles. “Let me make my tea first, I’ll be out in a few.”

Jack nods. “Good plan. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Jack presses a kiss to his hair when he passes him, and Alex watches him head for the front door from his spot at the island. Even more sunshine greets Jack as he opens the door, the windchime out front twinkling a good morning.

It’s going to be a good day.

Love is hotel sheets and a cup of coffee.

2018, New York, New York

The first time Jack wakes up it’s because he feels a dip in the mattress behind him and a warm arm wrapping back around his middle.

Without opening his eyes, he smiles at the feeling of Alex’s lips pressing against the back of his neck. “Flight was canceled because of the storm,” Alex explains, his voice scratchy with sleep. They were meant to have an early flight off to the next city but it’s an off day anyway so the delay in travel shouldn’t really matter. “We’re booked for another one at like, ten tonight or something.”

He turns in Alex’s arms and lets his eyes flutter open. It’s still really early and the curtains are pulled shut, leaving the room dark like the middle of the night. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust before he can really make out any of his boy’s features. Alex settles onto his back and pulls Jack halfway onto his chest. Jack lifts a hand to hold Alex’s cheek, his thumb brushing along the darker circles below his eyes. They’re only a few days away from a break for a couple weeks, and the little sleep he knows Alex has been allowing himself is starting to show. Jack is looking forward to getting them both back to his place to just sleep for a day or five.

“Sounds like the weather in New York wants you to sleep for a few more hours with your handsome boyfriend, then.”

Jack feels Alex laugh from where his cheek rests against his chest. “The storm knows you're handsome?”

“Of course,” Jack sighs. “It’s a universally known fact.”

“Guess we have to keep sleeping.”

“We do, yes,” Jack agrees. He lifts himself up for a moment to press a kiss to Alex’s jaw, smiling at the feeling of his lashes brushing against Alex’s stubbly cheek. Jack cuddles back against his chest and lets his eyes fall shut as their legs tangle below the sheets. He’s asleep again a moment later.

The next time Jack wakes up, the room is still mostly dark but he’s alone.

A thin stream of light shining through a spot in the curtains and the smell of coffee somewhere in the room tells him that enough time has passed that it’s likely a normal morning hour now. It also tells him that Alex is awake somewhere. Jack sits up slowly in bed and looks around the room, expecting to find Alex sitting in the chair in the corner scrolling through Twitter on his phone or writing at the desk. He frowns when he finds the room empty of his boyfriend until then he hears a sneeze on the other side of the curtain. Laughing quietly to himself, Jack rubs the sleep from his eyes. He turns to get out of the bed and, after spotting the pot of coffee, pours himself a mug.

Growing up, Jack has always hated staying in hotels. The rooms were always too cold, the air conditioner too noisy, the pillows just a bit too fluffy. He often found himself jealous of kids who found hotel rooms to be like a magic place to be because he was always miserable until he could crawl back into his own bed back home.

It was better once they started traveling for band stuff. He started bringing his own pillow (the firmness and familiar scent both providing a sense of comfort). And if he ever forgot it on the bus, Alex's chest was a decent substitute. A bed would never feel cold with Alex the Human Furnace pressed against his back below the sheets. The sound of the air conditioning was easily drowned out when he had the gentle, steady puffs of Alex’s breath against his neck to count instead of sheep.

He crosses the room, pausing for a moment to grab a hoodie and his new book from his carry-on, and pulls away the curtain to step out onto the balcony. Alex turns up from his journal and smiles up at him. He’s still in pajama pants and a long sleeve he likely pulled from Jack’s bag. “Good morning, love.”

Jack leans down to press a kiss to the top of Alex’s head before moving to lean against the railing. “Is it still morning?”

“Well, no,” Alex laughs. “But we’re on tour, so it can be morning if we want it to be.”

Jack looks down onto the street, to all of the tiny people moving from place to place. Everyone in New York always moves quickly, Jack thinks. With purpose. He admires that. “Well, good morning to you too,” he replies. “Why are we out of bed if we don’t have to be in an airport for several more hours?”

“I wanted to watch the city,” Alex explains. He lifts his mug to take another sip before continuing. “We move so fast these days. I miss getting to explore.”

“Hard to explore from this balcony.”

“Rian found some restaurant a few blocks away he wants to do an early dinner at,” Alex says, with a wave of his hand. “We can explore then. We’re resting right now.”

“City does still look pretty from here,” Jack observes. Autumn looks nice on New York, he thinks. The winters are too cold and the summers are too hot. Mid-October, when it’s cool but not cold, when the trees are all a rainbow of oranges and reds, that’s his favorite time to be in the city. From where they sit right now, with the sun shining down to warm them and a cool breeze blowing around the steam rising from his mug, it’s easy to say this might be his favorite morning in the city to date.

“Exactly,” Alex smiles while he watches Jack look out over the railing at the buildings and sky.

“What are you working on?” Jack asks. He takes the seat beside Alex and props his feet up on the chair opposite him.

“Feels like lyrics but I might just be journaling,” Alex replies. “I can’t really tell.”

“What are you writing about?”

“You,” Alex responds without hesitation. A decade ago, if Jack had asked that question, Alex likely would have looked up at him with a blush painted across his cheeks and quickly shut the book closed before saying nothing, just songwriter stuff. They’ve come a long way since then.

“Gonna be our next big hit?” Jack jokes.

“Oh, absolutely,” Alex says with a wink. Alex reaches for Jack’s hand after he sets his mug back down and lifts it to press a kiss against his knuckles. He holds onto Jack’s fingers for a moment longer as he takes a deep breath, the early afternoon sun shining on his face, before he lets go to pick up his pen again.

Jack loves touring. He wants them to keep touring until they’re old and gray and even Zack struggles to run and jump across the stage. He loves traveling and finding new undiscovered corners of the world. He loves how it always feels fresh and new in every place they land. He loves not knowing exactly what’s going to come next.

He spent a long time wondering if he should want to settle down. To find a place to really build a more permanent life for himself at some point. But then he looks across the table at Alex and watches the way he bites at the end of his pen. He watches his eyes light up in joy before the pen falls back to the paper in his journal, the lyrics or story or notes about something scratching their way into the page. Alex reaches again for his mug and pauses his scribbling to take a sip. His eyes meet Jack's gaze and he smiles in his direction before returning to the task at hand.

Maybe settling down doesn’t have to be a place. It can be sharing a bed with the same person even if that bed is a new one each night. It can be a pair of dark brown eyes that for the last 20 years can always find his own, even in the most crowded rooms.  

Hotel day or not, Jack knows he can’t spend the whole day throwing heart eyes across the table while Alex works. Over the years, Jack has noticed that Alex is always too nice to ask for alone time while he writes despite everyone knowing he likes it sometimes. He takes the last sip of his coffee and moves to stand.

“Gonna go bug Zack while he works out for awhile,” Jack says, pushing the sliding glass door open. “I’ll come find you in a few hours.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” Alex laughs, his eyes squinting up at Jack against the sunlight. “Have fun.”

Jack blows him a kiss before stepping back inside. He digs his slides out of his bag and grabs a key card before wandering out of the room and in the direction of the elevators.

On his trip down to the ground floor, he starts thinking about it again, what settling down would look like for him. He's starting to realize that the struggle there is that he can’t picture a settled future for himself because the only future he sees is about a them rather than a him. No matter where they go, Alex is and always has been home.

And maybe, Jack thinks, it’s as simple as that.

Love is a sweater and sky full of stars.

2012, Middle of Nowhere, Southwest USA

The first time Alex steals a hoodie from Jack is February during their sophomore year of high school. Jack’s parents were out of town visiting his sister so they ended up at his place after band practice. They nicked a couple of beers from the fridge in the garage and spent fifteen minutes debating if they had reorganized the remaining bottles in a way that made it less obvious there might be a couple missing.

It was another fifteen or so minutes of drinking and complaining about algebra exams before Alex shivered in the deck chair he had claimed. Alex never said a word, but Jack must have noticed the goosebumps on his bare arms and wordlessly got up to go inside. A couple minutes later, the confused look on Alex’s face was answered with a navy blue hoodie thrown in his face.

He laughed and thanked Jack before he pulled it over his head. It was soft and warm from being inside. When he pulled the hood up over his hair, he was met with the scent of lavender laundry detergent and the body spray Jack had taken a liking to that winter. Alex would never admit to how he started hating the smell of it a little less when Jack started wearing it.

Alex pulled the sleeves over his hands and shoved them into the hoodie pocket. When he looked back up across the metal patio table, a small smile pulled at Jack’s lips. Alex wasn’t given the time to ask what the look had been for before Jack launched into another story about something that had happened in his chemistry lab earlier that week.

(It’s not until they’re on tour the summer after they graduate that Alex really understands what the look was for. He doesn’t really get it until Jack is kissing him against the bunks, his hands sliding underneath a sweatshirt Alex had pulled from Jack’s suitcase. Though it’s impossible for the meaning to be more obvious when You look cute in my clothes is whispered between their lips. Alex only laughs in response and trips over his own feet dragging Jack towards the back lounge.)

Nearly ten years since that night at Jack’s parents’ place, Alex still finds himself thankful that Jack’s sweaters fit loosely on him and smell like the mixture of fragrances that make up his boy. It’s still the same laundry detergent his mom used in the early 2000s, but the cologne Jack wears now is much nicer than the stuff he used to douse himself in every morning before school. He’s pretty sure it’s the one that Rian bought Jack for Christmas last year. Alex will have to ask him in the morning.

The A/C kicks on above where he sits on the tour bus couch, and Alex pulls the sleeves of the sweatshirt he’d stolen out of Jack’s bunk over his hands. He’s having a tea, one of those calming, nighttime ones, in a desperate attempt to settle his mind so he can get some sleep before they’re parked at a new venue in a new city in the morning. The show earlier that night had felt electric, Alex had been more in tune with this crowd than he had in a while. It was a glorious feeling to walk off stage with, but it also meant that the buzz was still tingling a bit just below his skin hours later.

Tea and his journal were his typical go-to choices to relax on a night like this, but unfortunately, his normal methods were failing him. He takes a deep breath, wondering for a moment if he should try out some of those meditation techniques Zack had taught him, and then he feels the bus come to a stop.

He pulls aside one of the curtains to check out where they’re at. Some kind of gas station, it appears. No obvious signs of that much civilization around it, very typical middle of nowhere Arizona (or maybe New Mexico?). He watches their bus driver wander out in front of the bus and shake hands with one of the guys driving the bus some of the other crew are on. Everyone is just stretching their legs, it looks like.

He reaches for his mug to take another sip and frowns down at the ceramic when he realizes it’s empty. Alex considers digging the box of tea out of the crowded kitchen storage for a moment before glancing toward the front of the bus. With a nod to himself, he leaves the mug in the sink and heads up for the door.

They’re in basically the desert and it’s the middle of the night in November, so Alex really has no reason to be surprised by the chill in the air he’s greeted with after stepping out into the lot. He pulls his sleeves back over his palms and walks out further into the lot. Alex hears someone call his name. Across the lot he sees their driver waving. “We’re leaving in thirty. Be back on the bus by then.”

“Got it,” he yells back. And then it’s silent.

That’s always been one of the best things about traveling at night like this. He finds it exciting to really truly be in the middle of nowhere, where he can step out of the bus into stillness, the only sounds being the tiny chirping of bugs or tree branches blowing in the wind. That’s not even his favorite part though. He tips his face up toward the night sky and squeezes his eyes shut to get them more accustomed to the darkness.

No, his favorite part is the stars.

Alex is endlessly grateful for the opportunities they’ve had the last few years to live and work in big, important cities, but he misses the skies he got to call his own out in the suburbs of Baltimore. The light pollution in LA is so bad he can’t see a single star. After about a month out there, he sadly resigned himself to looking up into the sky for the blinking lights of airplanes and just playing pretend.

There’s no need for that out here. The sky above his head here is filled with glittery lights millions of miles away, with giant stars so big he can’t really comprehend their size. It makes him feel kind of small. Alex likes that feeling sometimes. Puts things into perspective, he thinks.

He’s too busy gazing up above his head, trying to find constellations and planets he knows should be visible at this time in the year, that he doesn’t notice the footsteps approaching from behind him. A pair of arms wrap around his waist and he jumps only for a moment before he looks down and recognizes the hands folded over his middle. Jack drops his head to rest on Alex’s shoulder. “Why the fuck are you still awake?” Jack mumbles sleepily against Alex’s neck.

Alex leans back into his chest. “I couldn’t sleep and I felt us stop,” he explains. “I came out to say hello to my friends.”

“You mean the stars?” Jack asks.

“The planets, too. Oh, and the moon.”

“You’ve got quite the posse,” Jack laughs, his lips pressing against the tattoo behind Alex’s ear. “Can I join you?”

“Always,” Alex smiles.

They take a seat on the hard ground and start recapping their day quietly to each other as they face up toward the sky. Despite both of them knowing Alex runs warmer between the two of them, Alex doesn’t say a word when Jack drops an arm around his waist to pull him in closer to his side. Jack starts recounting a dream he was having before he woke up and draws patterns with his fingertip against Alex’s knee. Eventually they grow quiet for a few moments. Before the silence can settle around them too heavily, Jack starts calling out the names of different constellations he can see.

The universe works in funny ways, Alex has always thought. It can spin together new galaxies and expand on and on forever and build up a bright and brilliant sky like the one they’re looking up at right now. But it also made Jack choose to sit at Alex’s lunch table back in the eighth grade and shoved all four of them together on this wild journey and let Jack and Alex fall in love. It’s crazy to Alex that something capable of making and doing such big things would focus any energy on a couple of suburban boys sitting in a parking lot in the middle of nowhere on a punk band tour.

And suddenly, as Alex sits pressed against Jack, watching the person he loves most in the world gaze up at the clear night sky in wonder, his free hand pointing up at all of the constellations Alex had taught him over the years, words start circling around his head. Bits and pieces of lyrics about love and galaxies forming, warm sweaters and cool nights. He blinks away all the words though to let his vision clear. He can write the song another day. Right now, he’d rather focus on the smile pulling across Jack’s cheeks and the way he squeezes Alex’s hand every time he remembers the name of another star in the Little Dipper.

“Alex, was that right?” Jack asks and pulls Alex out of the love drunk headspace he’d been caught up in.

“I love you,” he sighs in response, his mind not able to process any other words. Alex lifts his hand from his lap to cup around Jack’s neck to bring their lips together for a moment. When he pulls away, Alex catches the pale blush on Jack’s cheeks in the light from the parking lot.

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Jack teases with a laugh. “But I love you, too.”

“You were distracting me so I missed whatever you said, but you were probably right. You’ve gotten pretty good at this.”

Jack flashes him a proud smile. “I have a good teacher.”

“Come on, lovebirds. We’ve got a show to get to,” a voice says down to them. Alex looks up at their driver, who laughs at their blushed cheeks before continuing on to the front of the bus.

Jack gets up first and helps Alex to his feet. Their fingers tangle together as they make a sleepy walk back to the bus. “Stay with me tonight?” Jack asks in a whisper once they’re back inside and the ground starts to rumble gently below their feet.

Alex nods and lets Jack guide them toward the bunks. He hits the light switch as he passes it. “You know, if you keep getting taller, one day it’s going to be physically impossible to fit both of us in there.”

“I like a challenge,” Jack whispers back in the dark before dropping into the bunk. Alex follows after and tucks himself into Jack’s side, his head falling to rest in its typical spot on his chest. Alex knows he’ll get too warm in the night and should probably lose the sweatshirt, but the extra layer of Jack relaxes him better than any cup of tea could ever dream of.

“Thanks for stargazing with me,” Alex sighs, the lateness of the hour finally hitting him. Jack reaches down and pulls a blanket over them both.

“Always,” Jack assures him, his arm wrapping around Alex’s waist.

All night long Alex dreams of bright, clear skies full of stars and Jack holding his hand while naming them all.

Love is a thin gold band sitting in a dish beside the sink.

2032, Maryland

They had received the little blue bowl as a fifth anniversary gift from Rian after he had received a call from the two of them at 2AM tipsy and nearly crying because Alex’s wedding band had slipped off while doing the dishes. Rian had been staying at his parents’ place at the time and showed up an hour later, toolbox in hand, to help them find the ring. It’s been another five years since then but it’s still Rian’s favorite story to tell whenever he’s in town and Jack and Alex are hosting a party.

Jack had never had an issue with his ring trying to slip past his knuckle while cleaning up after dinner. But after the scare with Alex’s, he figures there’s no use in testing chance. So after turning on the hot water tap, he places the band into the dish. He sticks his hand under the water and waits for it to warm, knowing it might be a minute or two since he’s pretty sure he heard Alex running the shower a few minutes earlier after returning from the barn.

Married life isn’t what Jack expected it to be. He kind of assumed they would bicker over random tiny things in the way that his parents did. There was a part of him that thought maybe this would be the thing that made him start feeling like an actual grown up, that a ring on his left hand might be the missing piece to the puzzle of feeling like a put together adult. But nothing really changed. They had both been living on the farm during breaks from tour for a couple years by the time Alex finally asked while on a trip to the cabin. So there was no moving around and there really wasn’t a shift in any other part of their lives to work with either. It was like Rian had said during his best man speech: “I mean come on, guys, you’ve basically been married since we graduated high school.”

He had been worried he would be bad at it. Alex had always been better at sitting still than he was. It had been the original reason Jack gravitated toward Alex. No one else had ever known how to calm Jack enough to stop the constant motion in his world for a minute. Guiding words or a hand against his back from Alex had always been the one thing to ground him, whether they were on a long flight or on a stage in front of twenty thousand people. Alex was always the answer.

It doesn’t take long to finish up the dishes. They had cleaned as they went while cooking so it was just a few plates to clear away. After Alex had carried the stack of them to the sink, Jack waved him away in the direction of the living room. Reluctantly, Alex had rolled his eyes and said a quiet thank you before he refilled his wine glass from the bottle in the fridge and wandered out of the room.

Now, Jack turns off the tap and grabs the towel to dry his hands before slipping his ring back. He retrieves his own glass from the dining room and fills it with the white that Alex had picked up for them to try and steps across the hall to join him.

Alex sits curled up in his usual corner of the couch, his glasses slipping toward the end of his nose as he taps against the screen of the tablet in his lap. He scratches at his head in thought and his beanie falls to the cushion behind him. He doesn’t bother reaching for it again. As Jack takes the spot beside him, he smiles at the touch of gray in Alex’s roots that show through the faded purple he’s had for a while. Jack’s been trying to get him to embrace his graceful aging for ages, but he admires Alex’s very punk insistence on hiding the silver hairs below blues and pinks.

“What are you working on?” Jack asks. He lets his head fall to rest against Alex’s shoulder after setting his glass on the coffee table.

“Mark said the Sunday puzzle was fun this week so I’m giving it a shot,” Alex replies without looking up from the screen. “I forget ‘fun’ in his words means really fucking hard, though.”

“He’s a very smart boy,” Jack says, thoughtfully.

“The smartest.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes while Alex tries out different options for 16 across. Eventually, he sighs and hits the button to lock the screen. He replaces the tablet with his glass of wine, and they adjust so Jack sits between Alex’s legs with his head resting against Alex’s chest. Most evenings end like this these days when they’re not out on tour. It’s Jack’s favorite part of the day. Sometimes they both sit and work through a couple chapters of whatever book they each picked up recently. Sometimes they watch a movie. But they’re always together in this room as the sunset turns to twilight, and it’s something Jack is grateful for.

The dim room lights up bright as lightning flashes outside and a low roll of thunder follows a few moments later. Jack closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of the rain hitting the porch just beyond the window. “Everybody all closed up out of the storm out there?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex says, pausing to take a sip from his glass. “They went in without any complaint. They must have sensed it coming.”

Jack hums in agreement. Alex grabs Jack’s free hand and brings them up to rest against Jack’s chest. It’s strange, Jack thinks sometimes, how much he’s grown to love the moments of silence with Alex. Growing up, their world had been so loud and busy. He thinks maybe that’s what taught them to so easily find moments of peace with one another. Short moments in venue dressing rooms before they took the stage all around the world and the tour bus back lounge were all they really had. And the buzz of tour never really stops ringing in their ears when they’re out on the road. It’s been a good change though here, that they don’t have so much noise to fight to find moments where they can sit with only the sound of a late summer storm and their own breathing.

It’s nice, Jack thinks, that they’ve really gotten the best of both worlds in that sense. They’re settled down enough that their mothers both still find casual ways to ask about grandchildren at Sunday brunch. But they also still get to go out on the road with Rian and Zack and play loud rock shows to seas of jumping, singing fans. Jack had worried for a while about those two sides coexisting. He’s thankful they’ve managed it so well.

Outside the storm rages on, the wind changing direction and slapping more rain against the window. Every so often, storms like this still set Jack on edge, despite how he’s lived through probably hundreds of them at this point in his life. If the thunder is just a little bit too loud or the lightning too bright, sometimes he swears he can feel the wind shaking the windows. It’s in those moments that Alex will grab his hand like he’s doing now and tap his fingers back and forth against Jack’s knuckles. It’s the same thing he’s done since they were out on Warped Tour at twenty years old, weathering out storms from the bus somewhere in Florida or Chicago. Some things never really change, Jack’s learned over the years.

“We still need to get up early to stop by the farmer’s market for flowers for my parents’ anniversary and that honey your mom wanted,” Alex says as he sits up, signalling for Jack to do the same. He moves to stand and reaches a hand out to Jack. “Want to call it an early night?”

“You read my mind,” Jack says with a yawn as he accepts Alex’s hand.

They wander through the house, hitting light switches as they go and checking to make sure they locked all the doors. The walls they pass are lined with plaques from band things and family photos and art collected over the years. Jack’s always liked how much they have hanging on the walls. He likes that their home tells their story.

They part ways when they make it upstairs to their bedroom, Alex heading for the bathroom and Jack for the closet. Jack changes quickly from the t-shirt he’s been wearing all day into something a bit more soft and worn to sleep in. He wanders back across the room and leans against the doorframe, just watching Alex place his ring into a dish that matches the one downstairs in the kitchen (Rian had bought a matching set because he’s always been the smart one among them) before reaching for his face wash.

Married life isn’t what Jack expected it to be. For most of his life, given the whirlwind that it’s been since they hit the road as teenagers, Jack has never known what to expect with anything. He stopped trying to set expectations for most things a long time ago. He thinks he likes it that way though. He likes not really knowing what comes next. He knows he’ll be happy and he’ll never have to do it alone.

And, as he watches Alex examine the band on his fourth finger missing the rest of the glowy summer tan he gets from hours outside with the horses, he’s pretty sure that’s all that really matters.

*

[irwinkitten]

mistletoe and wine | m.c

notes: guess what, i’m writing winter themed fics and here is the first of four. i’ll be posting one each week. enjoy! warnings: none word count: 1.5k!

-

You were sure that Michael was debating on either asking if you’d been kidnapped or straight up running away from the almost manic like grin that was stretched across your lips. 

But you knew that he understood your excitement and even shared in it; if only to a lesser degree.

“Why are you grinning like that? Who did you kill at work? Was it you coworker that tried to get you into trouble?” At the query, he laughed at the offended look you gave him in return. Feeling his arm slipping around you, giving a gentle squeeze, you couldn’t keep the look on your face.

“I didn’t kill anyone. They were lucky that they left before I could actually commit a murder though.” Your dark mutter made him smile as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“There’s my homicidal maniac.” The words had caught you off guard and unable to help yourself, you snorted out a laugh, making him grin. You knew you could count on him to make light of the situation, but your excitement was not one to be deterred.

“It’s going to be our first Christmas together in our home Mikey.” Instead of understanding like you’d hoped, you were met with a look of confusion and you held back your sigh.

And then it clicked, his eyes widening as a grin bloomed across his lips.

“Our first Christmas home! We’re decorating, right?” And you couldn’t help yourself, laughing as you pressed a kiss to his lips and pulled him to the direction of the living room where various boxes were sat waiting to be rummaged through.

“We are. Since We both brought our own decorations when we moved in, I figured we could go through them together.” And Michael chuckled as he opened up one of the boxes, holding up the cheesy tree ornament that your parents had given back to you, one that you’d made when you were a child.

“Shut up.” You grinned at him as you found the box filled to the brim with various garlands. Tugging one out of the box, you draped it across his shoulders and he scoffed, pulling it off only to throw it over you, gently tugging you closer to him with each end.

“Trapped.” He teased, a playful grin on his lips as you kissed his cheek before ducking from under the garland, ignoring his noise of protest.

“Decorations first, distractions later.” The dramatic sigh you received in return made you press your lips together in amusement before you put on the Christmas playlist, a mixture of old classics with various artists that you both liked that had done Christmas songs.

You’d not felt excited for Christmas until you’d realised this little bit of information. You’d been dreading the holidays before it had occurred to you that-despite it being far from your first christmas together-it was your first christmas together in your new home.

Both families had understood that you wanted to spend the holidays together in your new home and had decided to travel to the two of you instead of the two of you visiting various countries. Michael had most been excited about this. 

When Moose came to investigate the noises of the boxes being opened and the bags being rustled, Southy far too used to the sounds to follow after the other dog.

You’d almost danced in glee when you’d found the small reindeer outfit that you’d originally purchased for Southy years ago. The look that Michael gave you, made you stick your tongue out at him.

“Moose baby, come here.” You coaxed her and she was hesitant, occasionally sniffing at the various decorations that had fallen onto the floor. You noticed that Michael had his phone out as Moose reached you and you fussed her in turn.

She gave you kisses in return and you’d successfully gotten the outfit tacked around her. Surprisingly, she didn’t protest the outfit, instead turning to Michael who had laughed and made her way over to him, her tail going a mile a minute.

“You poor thing. You’ve got weeks of this Moose.” He murmured as he ruffled her fur. You grinned as he got the outfit off her.

“Leave the dogs out of it for now.” He teased finally as he took out the lump of christmas lights and you laughed.

“Get those untangled and I might.” You knew that he would, he had more patience than you did when it came to Christmas lights. 

Now and then, the two of you would sing along, occasionally throwing pieces of garland at Michael whenever he swapped lyrics out for a ruder version. Every time he did, you tried to keep up the offended looks, but even you couldn’t help but laugh at him, chiming in with your own versions which earned more decorations being thrown in return.

With the boxes organised, you both finally began decorating, taking the garland and wrapping it around the banister of the stairs. 

“Can you believe that we got this far?” You asked him as you ventured back into the living room, decorations in hand as you worked together to get them hung over the picture frames.

“Honestly, every bad Christmas we had to suffer, this makes up for all of them.” He murmured once you back to the boxes. 

You started to put up the tree when Michael disappeared. You weren’t entirely sure what he was up to, knowing that he did have the wreath for the door, but the mischievous smirk he’d given you as he disappeared out of the room told you there was definitely more that he was up to. 

Once the tree was up, the branches spread easily for the decorations to hang from, Michael  reappeared with a steaming mug and you hesitated before taking a sip, the mulled wine bringing you warmth you hadn’t realised you were missing.

“I figured that we could have a mug or two before we decorate the tree.” His voice had fallen quiet and you found yourself melting slightly, pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting the mulled wine on his own lips.

“Sounds like a plan, handsome. Plus we can sort out the tree decorations.” You hummed and his face lit up as he placed his mug down, racing up the stairs to your confusion and amusement.

It didn’t take long for him to return, a small box in his hands as he settled back next to you. Almost immediately, you’d tucked yourself into his side, grinning at his chuckle as he handed you the box, taking the mug from your hands.

“I was waiting for this because, well just open it and see.” He encouraged, his face alight with excitement. 

So of course you took your sweet time, earning a groan from him, however he didn’t rip the package open like you’d half expected him to. He sat patiently, watching your face.

So once the wrapping paper was discarded and you pried the lid off, you looked away from him to the item in question and felt your breath leave you.

Inside was an ornament, a small square with a key painted at the top, with yours and Michael’s names underneath, followed by the year, marking it your first Christmas together in this home. 

You couldn’t find the words to convey the joy at this one small thing, along with the love that you felt for him. It felt like you chest was fit to burst with the love you felt surge up for him and you jumped as you felt his finger brush your cheek.

That was when you realised that he was brushing away a tear.

“Mikey.” Your voice cracked and he shifted the both of you, his arms pulling you into him. And you held onto him tightly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I wanted something to mark this Christmas. It’s special to us, together as our little family.”

You were lost for words at the small but thoughtful gift.

“How about we start decorating then?” I’ve got a few ways to show my appreciation of your gift but I’d rather have everything already done.” The tease was enough, but he smiled and kissed you softly, his fingers cupping your face.

“I love you.” He whispered gently and you could’ve sworn you melted into his touch.

“I love you too. C’mon.” You coaxed, and he followed your lead. Decorating the tree was not nearly as stressful as you’d anticipated, both of you aiming for a tree that was both tasteful but you couldn’t help but laugh at the small gaming figurines that were scattered throughout the tree.

Once the star was on top, the newest decoration in clear view of the room, you leaned back into Michael as he stood behind you, surveying the room.

Turning in his arms, you beamed up at him and he grinned. His hand moved from around you, prompting you to look up to see he was holding mistletoe above the two of you. 

You laughed and kissed him soundly, his hand discarding the mistletoe as he pulled you closer to him.

You were almost certain that this had become your favourite Christmas by far. 

-

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[neptunesnxpple]

Adopted by the League Part 7 (Shigaraki x male!reader)

****Minors Do Not Interact****

Summary of the Series: You move to a new country- only to find out the apartment you moved into is the home base of a league you don’t even know about! This is sort of a found family situation where reader takes care the league.

Warnings/Tags for this Part: reader is a man or masc identifying, new years celebrations, alcohol, reader and shigaraki get extremely drunk, kissing, going to bed together

Part 1 ;; Part 2 ;; Part 3 ;; Part 4 ;; Part 5 ;; Part 6 ;; Part 7

        New years eves you were passing out the glasses, mugs, and any other drinking apparatus you had stored away in the kitchen. You really hadn’t planned to have this many people over at any given time, but well, that hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. A month and a half ago you moved to Japan, got a small one bedroom apartment in a lower income area, and started work at a local market before being transferred to their café department. Unfortunately, your apartment wasn’t really that vacant- at least not after the first few days. Then, part of a league moved in. Without anywhere else to go, you didn’t feel all that great about kicking out six or so people even though technically the apartment was in your name. Now you shared the bathroom with a minimum of six other on any given day, kitchen space, living room, at least your bedroom was limited to one other person- the leader of the league, Shigaraki.

        Now you weren’t always the drinking type, usually sparingly if so, a glass here a glass there, but this was new years eve and you had a couple of conversation topics you wanted to get off your chest so to speak. You had already pre-gamed at a bar after work, gotten a drink or two, before heading back home with the left-over pastries- the café was closed on New Years Day and they weren’t a fan of keeping food around past the 24 hour mark. It was only two hours until the count down, you had laid out the pastry spread, Toga and Twice had worked together to pick up a couple of osechi-ryori for the group, Compress, Magne, and Spinner had put up decorations, and Dabi and Shigaraki were in charge of the alcohol, although you had a hard time imagining them working together. Shigaraki had gotten the others to bring the television out of the bedroom and into the living room where you could watch some kind of count down leading to a fireworks display. You hummed anxiously, finger tapping the edge of your glass and foot jittering. Shigaraki made his way over, pushing his hood down and taking your glass, drinking what was left in it, before capping it off again.

           “What’s got you so amped up?”

        “Nothing. Nothing at all. Why do you ask?” you accepted the glass, bringing it to your lips and not even pretending to look his way. You stared blankly at the tv screen,

         “You’re standing out here in the kitchen while everyone else is in the living room, and I’ve seen how many glasses you’ve downed so far. I’m pretty sure your eye keeps twitching, not like I’m looking or anything,” he muttered the second part of that, now fixated on his own mug. You looked over from where you were leaning. He looked soft. The front part of his hair was tied back, and you knew it wasn’t from his own doing. But it looked nice all the same. Seeing that much of his face. The skin around his neck wasn’t as crusted or peeling like it had been. There were still nicks, the excessive scratching and picking a hard habit to break, but it was nice to see some change.

         “I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you answered shortly, careful to not appear curt, “I’m glad you all were able to take off,” you said, changing the subject and watching the slight tense in his shoulders at the mention of work. Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable. He wrinkled his lips, pressing them together for a moment,

         “Yeah, we had some plans but decided to hold off on them. At least until after the holidays.”

         “I didn’t take you for the celebratory type.”

        “I- We wanted your first New Years in Japan to be with friends. As a thank you, for letting us all stay with you,” he blurted out, rushing through the words.    You could tell the wine was working, his face was flush and he wouldn’t normally be so transparent about these types of these.

         “You don’t have to be so worried about this kind of thing, I would have been fine,” you moved a hand to your cheek, rubbing it as if to make sure this moment was real enough. “Thank you, though.” You let the sound of friends talking and the news caster reporting take over for the time being. Shigaraki had given you a great transition to something you had wanted to bring up. You heart began to beat harder in your chest, swallowing dryly, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Well, a couple of things. I’ve got a lot of things to talk to you about tonight, but I’m not really sure which I want to do first, they’re not exactly… easy to talk about,” you turned fully to face him, both hands on the stem of your glass and nervously tracing it. You glanced up at him briefly, enough to catch the panic on his face. “N-nothing too bad. Well, one of them isn’t that good objectively, but the other is, or could be good,” you rattled on, sensing that this was actually making him more nervy or at least as uncomfortable as you were. You had a feeling you were losing him if you didn’t pick up the pace.

         “I’m, I,” you stuttered, stepping back for a moment to take a deep breath, “I really like all of you, and this past month and a half have been some of the best times of my life already, but, it’s really cramped in here. It’s kind of hard getting ready for work when there’s people sleeping all over the living room, and the bathroom is really tough to figure out. I bring a spare travel case with a tooth brush and tooth paste just in case I can’t get in before work. I don’t want to rush you all out, but I think I could use a bit of personal space from time to time. We could still hang out of course! I wouldn’t mind sleepovers every now and then. Have you had any luck, searching for a new base?” you all but pleaded, tongue feeling thick and heavy. You took a moment between heavy breaths to see how Shigaraki was taking it, worry clear in your brow. The answer was not well. His lips turned up into what could best be called a grimace, taking a half empty bottle of booze and stalking off towards the a particularly dark corner of the room, barking at Spinner to hop off the bean bag chair and flopping in it, loose strands of hair falling in his face. Your hands continued to shake, bringing you to the realization that they were shaking in the first place. You leaned back against the counter, shock and horror filling every muscle and bone in your body. You had just ruined everything. You set your glass down, grabbing the bottle of wine you had been sipping out of and deciding to make the process much quicker. The next thing you knew, a familiar shadow drew near,

         “Rough night?” Dabi asked, pointing to the bottle. Your hand squeezed the neck of it tighter, shrugging,

         “I’m not sharing,” you joked, voice falling flat,

        “Relax, I don’t drink wine. Reminds me of people I’d rather not think about. So, what’d you say to get him so riled up? Did you tell him you’d have to reschedule the wedding? You know he’d prefer something in the fall.”

         “Shut up,” you snorted, smiling and giving him a shove.

        “See? That wasn’t so hard was it? Now you’ve got me in the perfect spot between tipsy and drunk, which means if you want to spill your guts about anything without anyone else knowing, nows your chance,” he offered, picking through the assorted pastries until he came across a chocolate stuffed croissant.

         “I think I said something stupid. Something that messed everything up,” you sighed heavily, that weight being applied directly to your shoulders.

         “I’m sure it couldn’t be that bad.”

        “I asked him when you guys were thinking of moving out,” you forced out, feeling ashamed immediately, “I didn’t even mean it that way, it’s just…”

         “Relax. I know we’re a lot to handle, I mean Spinner just learned to pick up after his sheds not too long ago, there’s no way you should be expected to deal with seven other peoples craziness on top of your own.”

         You perked up a little, setting the bottle back on the countertop.

        “I mean, you didn’t really think it was customary to let strangers live with you while they apartment searched, right?” Dabi said between bites,

         “Well, at first I did,” you admitted sheepishly,

        “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Chances are his panties are just in a bunch because he thinks you’re kicking him out. For good.”

You tilted your head in confusion,

         “I sort of am though.”

        “No, I mean like from your life. He pissy because he thinks you’re trying to push him out, and he doesn’t want to admit that he’s taken too long to do anything about it, unless there’s something you’re keeping from us?”

         “Taken to long to do anything?” You paled, nausea coming back to you.

        “Yeah, he’s been trying to make a move since you let us move in here but has been too chicken shit to do anything. It’s embarrassing, really.”

         You looked over past Dabi, seeing a sulking Shigaraki that looked like he was locked in a conversation with Toga, Twice, Spinner, and Magne that he’d prefer not to be in.

        “Alright, advice time over, you don’t have to leave but don’t talk to me,” Dabi shooed you away, making his way down the buffet line. You stuck around in the corner for some time longer, lost in thought as you planned your next move. There was an hour left for midnight, more than enough time for you to work up some courage and practice what you wanted to say.

         Thirty minutes remained. You were back to your glass mode, keeping the liquid confidence going as your body felt warm, light, like you were made of all things sparkly just like the liquid in your hand. You were aware that you were a bit clumsier, bumping into the corner of the couch and taking a second to balance yourself out, slowly, slowly inching your way closer to Shigaraki. The energy had simmered out since an hour and a half ago, almost everyone was trapped in their own conversations. You guest starred in a few on your way over, buying time but also enjoying yourself. You had really grown quite fond of everyone in such a short amount of time. Ten minutes to go and you had only a couple more feet to go, your speed dramatically reduced, both anticipating and dreading the eventual meet up. Shigaraki was still in the bean bag chair, and while you made a point not to check out the situation, you were sure he was just as grumpy as before.  Five minutes left and you arrived, drunk, and feeling absolutely wiggly. You felt like a worm on the string being pulled around, and you wouldn’t lie, you could feel the smile pull on the corners of your lips. You knew something he didn’t know that you knew. You went to sit in the space next to him, miscalculating and ending up partially in his lap, throwing and arm around his shoulder and sipping your drink, kicking your feet a little. This was fun. It pleased you even more when Shigaraki didn’t try to push you off. At least not right away.

         “What are you doing?”

        “Hanging out. What are you doing?” you asked, a knowing grin rising to your face. He raised an eyebrow, eyes fixed to you. You could feel it, his breath was a little more labored, he was just as drunk as you.

        “Hanging out.” He repeated. He adjusted, moving an arm behind you, “I don’t want my drink to spill,” he explained. You looked at the countdown on the screen. Two minutes.

         “I know something you don’t know,” you started, mischevious glint in your eye. You leaned toward Shigaraki, speaking just to him, “Something you don’t know that I know. I found something out.” You whispered, inching closer. Your hand brushed the back of his neck, feeling how warm it was and the sweat that beaded along the jackets’ edge.

         “Oh? And what did you find out?” he lowered his drink, resting his free hand on one of your calves,

        “Something about you. Something fun,” you did the same, setting down the glass and poking his chest with your fingers. You twirled the drawstring of his hoodie. One minute left. You felt his breathing grow ragged, face flushed and not looking away. You watched the timer on the tv.

         “Something fun…” he repeated, trying to coax you along after some time. You nodded, resting your cheek on his shoulder and talking quieter now,

         “Something we have in common,” your eyes, half lidded and having trouble keeping them open, stayed glued to the clock. Sitting down had caused a wave of wooziness to wash over you, enjoying the way the room spun slowly. You felt his arm wrap around tighter, finally it was time. You sat upright, staring with wide, wide eyes as you heard your friends chant along.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One!

        You turned to Shigaraki, the cheerful shouts of your friends as they celebrated became background noise. You bravely took the leap forward, pressing your lips to Shigarakis’, feeling both of your bodies tense before he tightened his grip even more, both arms around you now and pulling you closer. You both let out a breath sigh of relief, foreheads touching,

         “I found out that you like me. I mean, like like me,” you teased, eyes closed. Eyes closed felt nice. You felt yourself melt into Shigaraki, feeling more like liquid and less like solid mass. Shigaraki adjusted underneath of you, hand rubbing your back and pressing his lips to the top of your head. Your hands kept busy with his hoodie, twirling the draw strings and feeling the soft fabric, “which means you have to carry me to bed,” you joked, doubting that someone as scrawny as him could carry you too far. Or at all.

        “Alright,” Shigaraki slipped on arm under your leg, the other remaining wrapped around your back. He shifted in the overly amenable bean bag chair, pressing his feet firmly pressed to the ground, and putting as much force into standing as possible. He shot up, swaying clumsily with you in his arms. Your eyes snapped open, throwing your arms around his neck and holding on tight. Shigaraki continued to sway until his back was propped up against the wall. He adjusting you more, tossing you up higher on his shoulder for better grip and with a lot of swaying and stumbling from side to side, he got you in your shared bedroom, dropping you on the bed and flopping down on the blanket nest beside you. You rolled on your side to face him, pulling on of the warmer blankets around you and eyes drooping shut. “I thought about what you said.”

         “Hn?” you sleepily responded, shuffling closer to him.

        “I was talking with some of the league, and we agreed we need a bigger apartment. You can have your own room, if you want,” Shigaraki said softly.

         “My own room,” you repeated, smile creeping onto your face, “with you all. In a bigger apartment.” That sounded nice. You’d figure out logistics later, but for now you’d enjoy the idea, the fantasy, of living somewhere spacious enough for all of you.

         You wouldn’t mind sharing a room with Shigaraki, wherever that room might be.

[vanaera]

The Tale of the Gingerbread Man and the Mistletoe

Synopsis | Being his bestfriend for more than ten years, you have filled Jungkook’s life with stories that colored his world with joy and wonder. This time, he lets himself be the one to tell you stories, eventhough it seems that a different synopsis is coming into place in the warmth of his room in this Christmas Eve.

(aka The Prince and His Rose Christmas  Special; football player!jk + childhood friend!you/ best friends to lovers!au)

Genre | Fluff, so much fluff you’re gonna have diabetes. Welcome to the TPAHR Universe.

Wordcount | 5k

Read more football!jk drabbles in The Prince and His Rose

               Jeon Jungkook likes to believe that in an alternate universe, there’s a version of him that would have easily ended up with you. He already knew of it when he turned twenty, when your name he’s known and uttered for more than ten years with too much fondness and familiarity suddenly weighed more than they used to in his head and in his heart for the very first time. And for the next days he found himself falling deeper in love with you, his tongue always stumbling on each letter, drunk from their candied-cherry sweetness that kept him simultaneously high on the clouds and at the pit bottom of the cool image he’s built over the years. Jeon Jungkook, the MVP and center forward of your university football team and computer science extraordinaire is helplessly, sappily, fucking in love with you, his bestfriend for fourteen years and writer wonder of his batch. 

              After eight years of telling people "No, we're not dating. We're just friends," it wasn't easy to admit years later that he will actually go against his own words and he will in fact, take all the risks just to get to the other side of the friend zone. It was easy to tell apart these explosions of feelings in his heart from the ones he’d felt before for any person, however such knowledge is not enough to balance the gravitational pull you had on him with his own force of attraction upon you. Because aside from his late start to make a move on his pursuit for your affection, which didn't actually turn well at the very beginning (because his annoying self turns his supposed amorous compliments into nonsensical criticisms until he started writing you love letters he leaves in your locker under the pen name Little Prince), you are fucking oblivious.

               Maybe if his mind does not blank out on him too much when your eyes met his, he would have probably uttered nice words and done things that would help him fall more into you and you into him.

               Jungkook shakes these thoughts as his elbows dig into the white sheets on the comforter he has laid on the floor, pulling himself to sit up and take a glance on the bed beside him.

               The amber sunlight of the afternoon paints your skin in ethereal gold, your parted lips in rose pink, and your tresses spread on his pillow in deeper brown, a stark contrast to the whiteness of the duvet. You stir in your sleep, limbs laid outstretched, and your head turns to his way, granting Jungkook every angle of your beauty. Jungkook smiles. You're so beautiful...breathtakingly beautiful in every possible way.

               He’s not granted everyday to be able to see you like this so Jungkook makes use of every second of the calm minutes of the afternoon haze, admiring every bit of you. His eyes graze your asymmetrical eyes that always see the good in everyone, your fairly high sloped nose you always took pride of, your plush full lips he’s always wanted to taste, your semi-broad shoulders that complements his when he goes for surprise bear hugs, your cute, small fingers that contrast his massively long ones – every flaw and attribute he’s come to learn to love.  You’re not perfect and he admits he has seen better physical qualities in others. However, he’s never seen someone like you–someone who’s filled with so many good qualities and imperfections at the same time yet still manages to be perfect just the way you are–not for anyone, not for him, not to satisfy his ideal woman he’s conjured in his mind–just perfectly you. You who inspire him to do better, to dream more, and work harder, his bestfriend for so many years, the only person he can be completely himself.

               Jungkook leans toward you, reaching out to brush your fringe when you stir again, body fully facing him now. He watches your lashes flutter, eyes peeling open to look back at him, brown eyes warm and soft. Jungkook's hand hangs in mid-air. He settles them on your palm that lays open on his bed, intertwining them together.

               You pull your pink lips into a smile. "What are you looking at, Jungkookie?"

               "Nothing," Jungkook mumbles. "Just," he looks to his side then reconnects your gazes, now sporting a shit-eating grin, "looking at you with that drool on your face."

               "Oh, really?" you return, starting to sit up.

               "Oh hell, yes," Jungkook's grin widens and before you pulled yourself up enough to be a few inches higher than where he sat, he squeezes your hand, playfully tight but not much for you to wince, something he always does when he tries to ruin your friendship handshakes back then just to annoy you.

               Jungkook’s already running to his kitchen by the time you’re on your toes and screaming at him, slipper in hand and feet pounding on the floor with your laughter filling the room.

               When the semester ends and the Holiday break starts, you and Jungkook always travel back to your hometown to celebrate Christmas with your families. Unfortunately this time, the both of you can't adhere to the family tradition. The drama club was scheduled to have the Nutcracker play on the night of the 23rd in your university's theater for St. Anne Orphanage's early Christmas treat for the children, and since you're one of the play writers and Jungkook's part of the lighting team, you two had to stay and schedule your trip back home in another day to have the 24th your rest day.  Jungkook thinks, on the other hand, that such happening was fortunate, a blessing undeniably un-disguised, a Christmas miracle he never wished for. Your roommate has packed a week ago to go home to the province, and given the circumstance that you hated being alone and Jungkook's your only close friend who'll be with you in the Christmas Eve, it was no question that you'll set camp in his room when his own roommate, Park Jimin, has also left for the holidays. He could spend the Christmas Eve with just you and him, with fuzzy colored socks on your feet, hot chocolate in mugs warm on your cold hands, and under the starry blanket of yours that have been both your comfort for years now.

               "And it could be the time you can, you know - tell her what you feel with the romantic mood of Christmas and all," were Taehyung's words yesterday to which he laughed. He doesn't know if he would actually take his chance or not because as much as he wants to pour his love for you right here, right now, the risk of rejection is possibly high when you're not even aware yet he's actually courting you and such tragedy is unbecoming for a supposed festive occasion.  

               Yesterday night was hectic so the two of you planned to slow everything down in the 24th. After sleeping in and waking up to have late breakfast, the both of you spent the remainder of the morning re-watching Love Actually and playing the Overcooked 2 video game that had you seated on the floor between his legs like always, back comfortably molded against his warm chest as you kept yelling at each other on what you’re supposed to do. You cooked his favorite beef lasagna for lunch and when the afternoon came, the both of you took a nap to prepare for your all-nighters to celebrate Christmas at exactly twelve o’clock. It’s domestic as hell and hurts Jungkook’s heart with so many feels that he has to routinely calm his burning tomato-red cheeks and ears whenever you come too close or let your stare linger for a while. But what’s he gonna do? Say no? Oh fucking no way, he’s going to fucking relish everything. Life’s given him such a very nice opportunity to spend a very special day with you and he’s going to make the best out of it.

               Especially now, when it’s ten and the evening sky has deepened into blackish indigo. His room was illuminated by his white fluorescent lights and the colorful blues, reds, and greens of the small Christmas tree you helped him set up last November beside his couch. The both of you were now sitting on his sofa after finishing two more romantic comedies on his floor, with mugs of hot choco warming your hands, your starry blanket draped over your shoulders, as you brew another story with him.

               “So I came up with this Jupiter King yesterday,” you said, tugging your blanket overhead. Letting your finger graze among the stars you marked to be the kingdom of the Obsidian Knights, the tall tower of the two Emerald Sisters, the Cloud Emporium, until it stops on a massive coral star embedded on the north. “Here!” you flash him a smile before focusing back on your new character. “He’s one of the most powerful rulers I set up here and he’s got this huge garden filled with plants that produces stars instead of flowers.  So he’s like, the Father of Everything here or some sort.”

               Jungkook hums, leaning his head over your right shoulder as he looks up at the northernmost star on your blanket. “Sounds good. What will be his story, then?”

               You look at him, biting your lip. “I’m thinking of putting him in The Prince and His Rose, like…some kind of origin to set some grounds between the worlds of the Golden Prince and his Rose.” You pause for a while and Jungkook looks at you waiting. You close your eyes before placing your mug on his small coffee table. You turn to him then, an expression between indifference and disappointment is etched into a downcast of a frown. It would have looked seriously bad if your lips were not jut out in a pout and your starry blanket hovering your heads like E.T. wannabes. “Okay–fuck,” you breathe, “I honestly don’t know what to do with him yet and it really frustrates me. I had this idea like a month ago and then finals came and passed by and wiped everything off my head–all the stuff I studied for and even my creative juices, so I’m here, like a useless being trying to talk it with you and see if any inspiration will rush in my brain.”

               “It’s okay. Is talking about it with me helping now?” Jungkook tries not to let his cheeks redden more or else the dark indigo hue of the sky of your blanket won’t be able to hide it anymore.

               “No,” you mutter. “I really don’t like feeling like this. Look, I even got so grumpy yesterday with the performance of Nayeon and Jun in the rehearsals.”

               Jungkook chuckles, the image of you wearing the meanest scowl he’s seen on you as you trudge up to the director and point at the lacking skills of the actors flashes again in his mind. You don’t really scowl and frown that bad on the usual basis that’s why it’s kinda funny seeing the rest of the cast cower a little, surprised of your sudden outburst. “They deserve it though. They’re slacking off during the final rehearsals. Even I can see it up on the Light Control Room. Namjoon hyung even wanted to put the large ass spotlight on their faces to wake them up.”

               You laugh at that, chuckles tinkling like faerie bells in Jungkook’s ears. “Yeah, it’s funny. I don’t really like slackers but I don’t know–I think it’s not exactly the slacking off that pissed me so bad yesterday–you get this feeling when you’re just not acting like yourself and it kinda frustrates you? That’s that.”

               Jungkook pats your head to place it on his right shoulder and you instantly oblige. "Chill, mate.” After hearing another cold breeze sweep outside, he adds with a grin, “Oh yeah, pun intended."

               You gave him a pointed look.

               Jungkook laughs. "Okay, maybe it's going like this 'cause your forcing ideas to come to you. You always know it does you no good and makes your story far beyond at par to your plans. Why do you do it anyway?"

               "I don't know," you mumble. "I just feel like wasting my holidays when I could have produced something that would have been approved by an editor– ”

               Jungkook taps the tip of your nose. "Hey, what do we say about pressuring yourself?"

               You breathe out and say in unison with him: "One step, one punch, one round at a time."

               "From Creed, said by Rocky!" Jungkook grins and you smile at the telltale signs of his fanboy mode on his glowing face.

               "You know, it would have been a great mood if you like, didn't utter where you got that advice from."

               "Hey, I gotta give credits. Rocky is awesome."

               You smirk at him, "Honestly, when you first said that quote to me two years ago, I actually though it came from you and I was so impressed by that one line you didn't manage to make unintelligible. Of course it is good because it actually didn't come from you–”

               "Hey! I'm trying to boost your morale here, why the hell are you dissing me?! Jungkook half-guffaws and half-screams, a feat impossible until now, and before you can laugh at him and say sorry, he tackles you down with a loud "Yah!" attacking your weak sides in heaps of tickles and laughter.

               "Oh my god, Kook, AHHahaHaHah, stop-AHaHaH"

               "No, I'm not done yet, Little Ms. Writer," Jungkook pokes your side and boops your nose giving you another round of giggling feat.

               When the chuckles eventually die down and the wriggling blanketed mess of the both of you calms down, Jungkook finds himself lying on the floor next to you, smiling, gaze interlocked with yours. The blanket is still draped over the both of your heads, tangled between your arms and legs in the tickle fest. It's weird that he finds it comfortable in a blanket cocoon with you on his floor. Maybe it's because of your unadulterated child-like laughter and joy he's never seen on you for quite a while, or maybe it's because of the starry night sky of the blanket that have suddenly enveloped the two of you into a world of your own or maybe–it's just you so anywhere you are with him will of course, will be fine for him. He doesn’t really know, so he supposes it’s because of all the three.

               Jungkook could feel his heart beat reaching a crescendo. He clears his throat and places his eyes on the stars instead. "Taking a break would actually help you and your writing, you know? How about…let me tell you a story this time? I got a perfect one in my head right now. Would you like that?"

               "Okay,” you chirp beside him. He could already feel a smile growing again on your face and he himself, smiles at that, chest warm. His plan for this Christmas Eve is off to a good start, then.

               “So once upon a time, there’s this gingerbread man who came out too early from his mold to be considered complete. He’s undercooked and half of his body is missing those decorative icing and candies. Then –”

               “Wait, it already had its icing when he’s being cooked?”

               Jungkook gives you a bored look. “In this universe it is. For his self-confidence. Okay, woman, let me continue.”

               When you hum in approval, he continues. “So this half-complete gingerbread man, unbeknownst to his maker, made his way down the oven and toward the door of the wooden hut. Too excited to see the open world, he rushed out of the house and into the cold.”

               “That’s dangerous,” you note.

               He nods in agreement. “Yeah, this gingerbread man is stupid so of course, he doesn’t know that.” You laugh at that and he grins.

               “The gingerbread man travels in the deep snow, and he enjoys the first minutes of the white world. He played with snowmen, rolled and messed around with snow angels, and ran to other houses to nab their candy canes they had in front of their porch for the caroling kids to munch on. It’s only when he notices he’s about to enter another village did he see a huge ass crack making its way down his right leg. In panic, he runs toward the nearest wizard he’s been told by his snowmen friends and–“ Jungkook suddenly pauses and you look at your side.

               “And? Hey, why did you stop? What are you doing?”

               Jungkook grumbles. “Wait, my pajamas got stuck between my butt cheeks, it’s annoying–okay there, I’m fine again.”  He pats his back and looks at your disgusted face. “Hey, don’t act like you don’t do that, too.”

               “I do, but I don’t announce it so openly as you did!”

               “Okay, my bad,” Jungkook smirks. “So yeah, the stupid ginger bread man meets the wizard, a century old, massive pretzel. The wizard tells him that the cracks on his leg were caused by forgetting his true self and the Gingerbread man looked at him bewildered and said,” Jungkook breaths and says in a whiny, squeaky voice he knows will annoy you, “‘What true self? I’m a gingerbread man, what’s more to that?’”

               “Jungkook, that voice over is annoying and stupid and you know that.”

               “I don’t care. Anyway, the wizard does not give a fuck and just says ambiguously, ‘Only true love will fix your problem.  The mistletoe will be your sign.’”

               You chuckle, “Wow, true love is always the way, what did I expect? The mistletoe though is original but…really weird.”

               “This is a weird story, so expect everything is really weird. Anyway, the gingerbread man wanders around the village, confused, and proceeds to just deal with other gingerbread women to look for true love only to come short with nonsense flings here and there – ”

               “Wait up!” you interrupt him again, flabbergasted at the uncalled turn of events. “This is a love story?!”

               Jungkook smiles, feeling a cold sweat run down his back. “Umm, kinda yeah? Why are you questioning it just now? You know me, I’m a trash for love stories so what do you expect?”

               “Okay, fine. I’m not complaining. Just weirded out by what’s happening.”

               “I told you this is a weird story.”

               “Fine, fine. Continue.”

               “One night, the gingerbread dude dreams of going back home to his maker. His maker almost cries at the sight of him and welcomes him back home again with a warm hug. At the touch, he gets a vision of the maker’s father, when the maker is still yet a little girl, who first planned his structure and composition. The father kneaded the dough and formed him on the mold. However, the father wasn’t able to put him in the oven because electricity in the village went out during the cricket plague.” Jungkook looks at you again and raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t need to ask more about your troubled expression when you already answer his unsaid question with a cock of your brow.

               “Okay, everything is not making sense, but okay, go on.”

               “So five years have passed and the father wanted to give up and just throw him away, however his maker pleaded no and promised she’ll make this gingerbread man something the father will be proud of.  The maker grew and took care of the gingerbread man’s raw form, making sure it’s well warmed up. She even put mistletoes on their ceiling and windows after noticing that the gingerbread man, sat atop on the tray, grows warmer at the sight of the plant. Another year passes until the plague ceases and when the electricity was back up again, she immediately placed him on the oven pan and waited for his growth. That’s when the gingerbread man realized what the wizard meant what true love is. He immediately set out, and ran back up the hills, never stopping eventhough the cracks have spread through his other leg and right arm. When he knocked against the door, it immediately opened to reveal his maker, sitting lonely on the floor. Hesitant, he made his way fast to the girl and reached for her hand, making himself known to his maker. At the sight of him, his maker’s eyes glow and a smile as wide as the crescent of the moon grows on her face. The gingerbread man is home again. The cracks immediately healed, and he suddenly became cooked just right without putting him in the oven, you get what I mean? Like complete again, with all the icing and stuff. There. The end.”

               Jungkook turns to you, sporting that shit-eating grin you always found endearing and annoying at the same time. “So…you like it?” he asks.

               You tilt your head, keeping your gaze on him. “Hmm…It’s nice…but weird. I appreciate your story-telling skills though I could say, I’m definitely better than you.”

               “HEY!”

               You guffawed at his appalled face. You grab his arm by your side and lean your head on his shoulder, a feat you usually do back when you’re five and sucking up to him. “Okay, I liked it, I appreciate it. By the way, how did you even come up with that…artistic storyline?”

               Jungkook leans his head against yours. “I actually took it from my first animation in college, a project for my major.”

               “What? How come I’ve never seen it yet?”

               “Because my skills are crappy back then so I saved you the horrific details and decided to tell you the plot instead, but you know what,” he looks at you, “I told you that to prepare you for my gift. Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

               Right then, your alarm clock rings and signals it’s exactly, twelve o’clock. It’s Christmas day. Jungkook smiles. His plan for your Christmas Eve has been smooth. Immediately, Jungkook grabs the blanket to put it on his couch, the indigo and colored stars no longer in your vision as you both lay on your backs, looking at his own ceiling. It was white, just like the first moment you’ve seen it when you went here in first year, however this night, it was no longer just white. Painted red rose patterns surrounded his ceiling, almost mimicking a rose garden painting on Cathedral ceilings. All of their thorny stems lead to the middle, right next to the bolted screw of his light fixture where a mistletoe was taped, leaves rich green and berries vibrant red.  

               “Oh my god, Jungkook, it’s beautiful!” you gasp, lips parting in awe and Jungkook momentarily forgets what he’s supposed to do next. Fuck, you’re so beautiful and so, so enthralled by what he did, he can fucking die a happy man right here, right now.

               “I–you mi-missed our friend’s trip in St. John’s Co-Cathedral in Malta last August after you took a break after your collapsing thing in the Drama Club. Of course, I can’t imitate the painting itself so I just did it with roses, y’know? Your favorites?” you chuckle at that and Jungkook’s smile widens, now mimicking the crescent of the moon himself. “Plus, you told me back then you’ve never seen red berries on mistletoes before so I climbed on the tree behind our dorm yesterday to grab one.”

               You turn your body towards him, completely on your side facing him now and Jungkook forgets to breathe. “Jungkook–I–this is beautiful. So, so beautiful, god, why didn’t you tell me your gift would be this-this-extra.”

               “Extra?”

               “Extra-spectacular,” you clear, “I-I didn’t even bring my gift for you like, it’so, so pretty and of course, you’ve spent hours painting that and here I am lying next to you with nothing to give to you.”

               “It’s okay,” Jungkook hums, letting his hand run through your hair, carding through your strands just like how you love it. “You said you’d bring it anyway–by the way where did you even leave your gift?”

               “In our home. I had it ready by November and my dumb self forgot that we won’t be able to come home soon because of the play.”

               “Stop calling yourself dumb.”

               “Okay. Merry Christmas, too,  Jungkook.”

               Jungkook lets his smile bloom further on his face, almost permanent on his skin as he watches you turn  to ogle the ceiling again. All of the sensations of cramped backs and stiffed necks he endured painting the rose garden on top of the foldable ladder he borrowed from Yoongi is worth it when he gets to see you like this–glowing and happy...just because of what he did. You always manage to shake up his world and sweep him off his feet with stories you’ve made only for the two of you. All the years he’s been with you, he always dreamt of returning the favor. However, instead for platonic intentions of twelve-year old Jungkook to impress you back then, the Jungkook now yearns to have at least touched a corner of your heart. He spends the next minutes admiring you as you continue to chat about the details he put in the painting, drinking the image of you lying beside him and enjoying his gift so much you can’t tear your eyes away from it.

               As if in coincidence with his plan, the bursts of fire crackers and fireworks suddenly intervene in your moment and Jungkook and you, at the sound, quickly stand up and rush to his window.

               Yellow flickers start at the bottom of the scenery and shoots up fast in the sky, breaking into a beautiful umbrella bloom of golden sparkling stars. Reds and blues follow suit, accompanying the remains of the yellows in a blooming garden of vibrant sparks that illuminated the dark skyline. “Shings!” and “zings!” continuously followed in a cycle of blooming and fading fireworks and before  Jungkook knows it, he’s already turning his head to your side, eyes glowing and mouth in an open grin.

               “Woah, Jungkook, you saw that?  It’s a fountain of reds and oranges, god, it’s so beautiful!”

               You’re beautiful. And before he thinks of what he’s supposed to do next, his lips already move to the songs of the birds in his heart that have already started their numbers the moment he wake up this morning having you next to him.

               "I love you, Y/N"

               “Huh, what did you say?

               Jungkook's breath stops in his throat, body freezing up. Fuck, what’s he supposed to do holy shit–

               "Hey, what did you say? I didn't catch it. Tell me, what is it."

               Jungkook learns how to breathe again. "No-nothing. Just you getting sappy over fireworks."

               "Oh dumbface, as if you don’t do that too.”

               Jungkook laughs and sets his elbows back on his window sill and you lean your head against his shoulder again.

               Taehyung is right. Christmas do inflicts some romance in the atmosphere.

               “Come to think of it, it’s the very first time we spent Christmas with just one another.”

               “Yeah.”

               Maybe in another universe, a version of him already gathered the guts to repeat what he said to you earlier and another you would have probably returned his sentiments. Maybe in another universe, he would have been bold enough to use this perfect moment to lean in on you and graze his lips on yours in a soft kiss. Maybe in another universe, you would return his feelings in a heartbeat, no hesitation at all. Maybe he would have really easily ended up with you in that universe.

               Jungkook suddenly feels soft lips land on his cheek, a soft peck resounding in his ears, along with the fireworks outside and the pinnacle tempo of the birds in his heart.

               “What? ” you chuckle, playfully hitting his shoulder when he keeps his stare on you. “You taped a mistletoe in your ceiling, right? I gotta fulfill the tradition to ensure another good year to come to us.”

               “Right,” Jungkook laughs and pulls you closer to his side. “I can’t believe you just outright planted a kiss on my cheeks after calling my face stupid for years.”

               “Because it is!”

               Jungkook nods, the smile on his face reaching his eyes like you. “Gotta admit this Christmas Eve is really something, huh?”

               “Yeah…wanna spend it again with me next year?”

               “Yes, and the next years to come.”

               You settled deeper in his hug and Jungkook sighs in satisfaction. Pursuing you in his universe may not be easy but he’ll make the best out of it. His certain that with time, he'll be ready to express his true feelings for you –when you’ll be able to understand the weight of his feelings, when your gravitational pulls on each other will near equilibrium, when masses and volumes will be on par and finally enable him to pour years worth of love on you and the both of you without worrying about discrepancies that will collapse the world you share with him.

               He may not easily end up with you, but at least for now, he’s got you by his side. And that’s all he needs.

“Eventhough I’m really enthralled by your painting, I can’t help but wonder what your RA thought of our shenanigan after he found us painting the ceiling white again.”

“Seokjin’s my RA and he didn’t really mind. Told me it was cool and all.”

“Oh. Okay, nothing to worry!”

“Why are you so enthusiastic about that?”

“Well, that means I can have you parade the all-pink cardigan and jumper ensemble I gifted you like you said you will without worrying about your RA’s opinions.”

“Ugh, why do you always give me pink things?”

“Because you rarely wear that color! And also, it really looks good on you!”

“The-they do? Really?”

“Yeah! Now go help me clip this polaroid of your rose garden painting on my rope frame.”

“Aye Aye Ma’am!”

 A/N | Hey Hons! I know this is really late but I promised you a Christmas Special of these dorks so here it is! I’m sorry for the long inactivity in this universe so here I made it up to you guys with a longer wordcount! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing this! Happy Holidays Hons!

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. No reposts, modifications, and translations of content are allowed without direct permission.

[hymn2000]

Called To Be A Rock - Frostiron feat. Spiderson AU fanfic - C26

Previous chapters: 1  2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 2223 24 25

Comments/reviews/questions welcome as always

Overall Desc.:  Peter is staying with Tony and Loki one summer while his aunt is away working/travelling.

Chapter Desc.: The first full day of the holiday is underway. In true style, tiredness causes a bit of conflict, but the wonder of a new place is a good distraction 

Ship(s) involved: Tony x Loki aka Frostiron

Verse: Personal AU

Ongoing Warnings/themes/cw mentions: domestic, hurt/comfort, family dynamic, Tony in Dad Mode, holiday stuff

Chapter 26 - The Fairest Sun I’ve Ever Seen

-

Peter knelt up on the back seat of the hire car, pressed up against the window to see as much as possible.

“Peter, put your belt on” Tony said. 

Peter did as he was told, not taking his eyes off the passing view. 

“So, Manchester? What is there in Manchester?” he asked. “Big hotels?”

“We’re not staying in Manchester: it was just the most accessible place to land” Tony told him. “We’ve got a bit of a drive before we get to where we’re staying”

He handed Loki a box of travel pills.

“I took some this morning” Loki said.

“Well, take another one, just to be on the safe side”

Peter peered up at the sky. England. He’d never once considered the possibility that they’d be going to England. It felt so strange. His phone had kicked in to the timezone change. He adjusted his watch to match it. They’d arrived at 7pm, GMT. Five hours ahead of home.

-

Peter went quiet for a while, taking it all in. 

“Either of you two hungry? We’re not really gonna have time to cook when we get to where we’re staying. Might be worth grabbing a bite”

“Ok” Peter nodded, still looking out the window. “What can we get that’s properly English at this time?”

“Kebab” Loki said.

“Kebabs aren’t English”

“They’re part of the culture though”

“Yeah, hangover culture” Tony cut in. “We’ll seek out traditional stuff some other time. Just look out for the golden arches: that’ll do for tonight. That ok with both of you?”

Peter made a vague noise of agreement. Loki didn’t respond. He wasn’t hungry. 

“Loki?” Tony pressed him. “That ok with you?”

Loki shrugged. “I’m not really hungry”

“Oh, don’t start!”

“I’m not starting anything” Loki grumbled. “It’s all the travel: it’s made me feel funny” 

Tony sighed. “Alright, I get it. Still, you’ll need to try to eat something: it’s been a good 10 hours since you had breakfast, and I know you didn’t eat on the flight”

“Well, you know what I like...” he suddenly sat up straight, looking panicked. 

Tony looked at him in the rear view mirror. “You alright there, honey?”

“I left my pig on the jet!”

Tony reached into the bag in the passenger foot well, pulling out Loki’s pig and handing it over.

“For all your attachment to it, you never do a good job of remembering it” 

Loki held the pig against his chest, resting his nose against it’s snout. He could feel himself being watched, and looked over at Peter.

“What? I’m allowed a comfort blanket”

“How long have you had it?”

“Since I moved in with Tony” 

Peter nodded, looking back out the window - and spotted a familiar gleam in the near distance.

“GOLDEN ARCHES!”

Tony jumped slightly, but was in a good mood and laughed it off, simply reaching back and giving Peter a sharp tap on the leg.

“Not so loud next time, kiddo” 

-

They all felt a bit more energised once they’d had something to eat. They were parked up in the customer car park, and once they’d finished eating, Loki got out for a cigarette. Peter got out too, having a little wander and looking at the license plates and the familiar-but-not-familiar building and menus. 

“Don’t you go wandering off” said Tony, who was leaning against the car with a coffee.

Peter went back over to the car. “Is the air different here? Don’t you think it’s different? Or is it just because we’ve been inside for so long?”

“Don’t start another game of twenty questions. Please” Loki sighed, glancing at him. 

“Hey, Mr Loki?”

“What did I just say?”

“Fine, I’ll ask Mr Stark” Peter turned to Tony. “Why is he English?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Why is he English? Y’know, his accent and the way he speaks and acts and stuff. Why is he English?”

Tony shook his head. “Haven’t the foggiest. He gets their humour better than I do as well”

“You get a lot of it” Loki said, looking off into the distance.

“Yeah, but only because I was basically raised by a couple of English people. You didn’t have any of Earth’s influences, so god knows why you’re so connected to it”

“It’s a mystery, then: just one of those things” Peter concluded.

Loki smiled. A mystery indeed.

-

It was all very exciting until they merged onto the M6.

“230 miles” Loki said, surprising the rest of the car, as he hadn’t said a word since finishing his cigarette a good hour prior. 

“What?”

“The M6. It’s 230 miles long” 

Peter nodded, finally sitting back properly in his seat. “Are we nearly there?”

“Still at least another hour to go, pet. Probably longer, especially if the traffic is bad” Tony answered.

Peter checked his watch. 8.30pm. 

-

Loki and Peter both nodded off. Tony didn’t mind: he quite enjoyed the long roads and the soft sounds of the car breaking the silence. Every so often he’d check on them in the rear view mirror. They were leant against their own doors, Loki with his pig under his head, Peter with his jacket under his, almost perfect mirror images of each other. Tony smiled to himself. He loved his funny little family.

-

Loki and Peter woke up almost simultaneously.

“Hey, you two” Tony said gently. “Not too much longer to go now”

Peter rubbed his eyes. He looked out the front window, but it was dark now, and the headlights only really illuminated the road markings, not the surroundings. He was a bit disappointed: he’d quite fancied watching the sunset. It took him a minute to realise they were no longer on the motorway: it was much quieter, the roads more winding. He grumbled to himself, leaning against the car door and closing his eyes.

“Hey, don’t you go back to sleep just yet” Tony said, reaching back and giving his knee a little shake. 

Peter whined, opening his eyes and slapping Tony’s hand away.

“Peter! Don’t you get like that with me, young man”

“Sorry” Peter was just as surprised as Tony was. “I’m just tired”

“Even so, please try to stay awake a little longer: I won’t carry you inside. I’m not sure Loki would either” he glanced back at them. “Loki?”

Loki still had his head on his pig, and he looked every bit as annoyed as Peter. 

“What? Are you feeling all fed up too?”

Loki grumbled. 

“I know, it’s been a long day” he said. “You’ll both feel better after a good nights sleep”

He wasn’t really feeling the fatigue himself. He had to stop himself from laughing at their grumpiness. Peter was fed up and irritated from the tiredness, and Loki was much the same. He complained silently to himself. What was he doing here? He wanted to be back home, curled up in his bed with the silk covers, a book in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. He didn’t want to be stuck in a car in almost total darkness, far away from the only place he’d ever really thought of as home. He almost wished they hadn’t bothered.

-

Peter fought with himself and managed to stay awake - just. A light went on, and he looked up, blinking a bit, and found that Tony had pulled onto a private drive in front of a large house. He parked up and stopped the engine. 

“Here we are” he said, unplugging his seatbelt. “Come on, let’s get the boot unloaded”

He grabbed his bag from the footwell and climbed out of the car, forcing the other two to do the same. Peter made his way round to the boot, his eyes fixed on the house. He couldn’t really see it properly in the dark. Tony put an arm round his shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze. Peter leant into him, turning and burying his face in his chest for a moment.

“Tired...” 

“I know, kiddo. We won’t bother unpacking tonight, but let’s get all this stuff inside. Then you can go to bed”

-

They unloaded the car, being a bit lazy about it and wandering off to the toilet and for a glass of water between trips back outside. They left most of it in the hallway, while Tony locked up behind them. Loki and Peter were too tired to take in the surroundings properly. 

“Right, it’s a three bed. Do I have to assign rooms, or do you two want to kill each other for the best one?”

They recovered a bit of energy to see the bedrooms and then fight it out on the landing. Loki won. Peter acted annoyed, but he didn’t really mind: all the rooms were good. He got second pick, across the landing from Loki, while Tony took the middle bedroom. 

They took their own cases to their rooms, and the tiredness hit all three of them. Tony gave up on his idea of giving them an itinerary for the next day. Loki was starting to veer off to one side, Peter looked like he might collapse, and they were both visibly fighting to keep their eyes open. Tony pulled them both close for a hug, and they all retired to their own rooms. None bothered with pyjamas or washing: they merely stripped down and crawled into bed, falling asleep mere seconds after their heads hit their pillows.

-

It was light when Peter woke up. He pulled a blanket round himself and crawled out of bed, rubbing his eyes. He went over to the window and pulled back the curtains. All elements of tiredness seemed to disappear, and his mouth fell open. He turned on his heel and ran across the hallway to Loki’s room, pushing the door open and giving Loki a shake.

“Mr Loki! Mr Loki, wake up!” 

“I’m awake, I’m awake! Stop shaking me”

“Sorry” Peter stepped back. 

Loki sat up. He’d found his dressing gown at some point during the night. He pulled it back round himself properly.

“What’s up?”

“You need to look out the window! Look out the window!”

Loki stood up and drew back the curtains.

“Oh wow” 

Peter stood beside him, hands on the windowsill, staring out over the fields and dry stone walls and the mountains in the not-too-far distance. He’d never seen anything like it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Peter and Loki looked over their shoulders at Tony, who came over and put his arms round them.

“So... where are we?”

“The Lake District. Cumbria” Tony answered. “What do you think, Lolly?”

Loki looked out of the window, at the blue sky and the sheep in the fields. It was so beautiful, so serene...

“It’s wonderful...” 

Tony kissed him on the cheek and gave them both a squeeze. “Get dressed, you two, and then come downstairs for breakfast” 

“Aww, but I’m not finished looking yet!” Peter whined.

“You’ll have time enough for admiring the view. Now, get washed and dressed, come downstairs, have breakfast, and then we’ll head out. We’ve got plans!”

-

Peter didn’t eat much at breakfast, and Tony got a little worried. 

“Are you alright? You’re not feeling ill, are you?” he asked, feeling Peter’s forehead.

“I’m fine, I’m just excited, yknow?”

“You’re a bit warm”

“Leave him alone, darling” Loki said, pulling Tony close for a kiss. “You worry too much”

Tony kissed him firmly. “I’m just checking~”

“So” Loki said, keeping his arms round Tony’s waist. “What’s the plan for today, baby?”

“I thought we’d take it easy today. We need to get some food in, so we’re going to head to a little town where there’s some cool looking artisan shops and a big supermarket. So we can see some stuff and get a food shop. And then there’s somewhere I’d like to take you later on. You’ll have to bring your camera”

“Well, of course. After I’ve spent all that money on an SD card, it’d be a shame to waste it” he kissed Tony on the nose. “Are you going to be my model? You’d make a good model”

“I know. You’d be a better one though”

“Stop flirting and lets go!” Peter whined, grabbing at Loki’s arm. “Let’s go!”

Tony laughed at him. “Not just yet, kiddo. Give us a chance to finish our drinks”

“So where are we going today, huh? Huh, where are we going? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh? H-”

“Stop the broken record impression and go and get your shoes” Tony said, ruffling his hair. 

“Only if you do the same!” 

He ran to find his shoes anyway. Loki shook his head fondly.

“He’s a funny kid” 

“He’s a good one” Tony kissed him again. “We’d better neck these and get our own shoes on: I have a feeling his patience is going to break”

Loki nodded. “I quite agree” he grabbed his tea and downed the rest of it. “I wish we’d remembered my mug”

“Never mind. Keep an eye out and if you see one you really like, we’ll get it for you. Holiday mug”

“Sounds good to me” he gave Tony one more kiss and released him from the hug. “I’ll go and get my shoes”

“Don’t forget your travel pills”

-

Peter was too interested in taking in the scenery to make proper conversation in the car. He was mostly quiet for a lot of the journey. 

“Llama’s Pyjamas!” he said suddenly. “That B&B is called Llama’s Pyjamas”

“Fabulous, I love it already” Tony said. “Just another ten minutes till we’re there”

“Till we’re where?”

“Penrith” 

“Penrith?”

“Penrith. There’s supposed to be some good shops, and then we’ll go to the supermarket before we head back to the house” Tony said. 

“Ooh, what kinda shops?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never been before. Just don’t be can-I-’aving every two seconds” 

-

They parked up and walked down into the centre of the town. It was a bright, mild day, and all three were in a good mood. Loki and Tony strolled along hand in hand while Peter bounded ten steps ahead, mesmerised by this new town, turning his head this way and that to take in as much as possible. Loki leant his head closer to Tony’s.

“What’s with the pigeon impression?”

“Leave him alone” Tony said, but he grinned.

Peter heard them laughing and glanced back at them momentarily, but went back to admiring the new surroundings. 

-

Loki grabbed Peter by the shoulders.

“Say ‘woah’ one more time, and I will tape your mouth shut”

Tony laughed at him. “Oh, leave him alone: it’s just high spirits” 

“He’s said it at every shop”

“Not every shop” Peter said. “But can you blame me? I mean, look at this place!”

He gestured wildly, and Loki had to grab his wrist so stop him from smacking a passer-by in the face. 

“A bit different from the concrete jungle, eh?” Tony said.

Peter nodded. “Uh-huh. Hey, what’s this?”

“Looks like some sort of shopping arcade. Looks a bit dodgy” 

“Can we go in anyway?”

Tony nodded. “Sure”

-

Tony’s preconception was proved wrong as soon as they saw the prices outside the children’s clothing shop at the entrance. Loki stopped for a while, rubbing his bottom lip and looking at all the clothes outside and those that could be seen through the window.

“What are you looking at baby stuff for?” Peter asked, curling his lip. 

“He likes babies” Tony said quietly, giving Loki’s hand a squeeze. “Let’s move on, honey”

Loki nodded slowly, letting Tony guide him onwards. 

“As if you like babies!” Peter laughed. “Imagine you as-”

“Peter, don’t be insensitive” Tony interrupted him sharply. 

He said it with such severity that Peter immediately shut his mouth. He turned his head away - and spotted something he quite liked. He went over to the shop window, looking at the display of expensive shirts and shoes and jackets and cufflinks. 

“Hey, Mr Loki, Mr Stark, come and look at this!” 

They went over to him, looking into the shop window. 

“Ooh wow. These are much nicer than that shop we passed earlier” Tony said. “Let’s have a little look in, shall we?”

Loki was all too happy with that. Peter followed them in, although he felt a little out of place. The men in the shop were dressed in the same finery they were selling, and greeted them when they walked in, but let them browse uninterrupted. Peter stuck by Tony’s side, looking at shirts and jackets with him while Loki looked at tie and cufflink sets on the other side. The shop seemed terribly crowded, Peter thought, with it’s vast collection of tweed and wool and whatever else, all with price tags enough to make the average person wince. 

Peter lost interest quite quickly. He saw Loki talking quietly to the man by the till, but chose not to say anything to Tony. He kept his eyes on him, but he couldn’t see what he was buying, and whatever it was was quickly put into his shoulder bag, so there was no way to sneak a peak either. 

-

The rest of the small shopping arcade wasn’t so exciting, so they u-turned and headed back out onto the main street, soon stumbling across a delicatessen.

“Woah, this looks fancy!” Peter said, looking up at the sign. “James and John Graham...”

“Established 1793″ Tony said. “Looks traditional”

“Are we gonna stand here all day or are we going to have a look?” Loki asked, smiling at Tony. 

Tony gestured. “After you, my dear”

Peter and Tony were visibly more impressed than Loki. They spent a long time looking at everything, with Peter periodically grabbing something else to show Loki.

“Hey, hey, look at this!” Peter said for at least the twentieth time. “Chinese gunpowder tea”

“Oh, weird” Loki said. “I think I’ll stick with what I’ve got. Here, what do you think of this?”

He showed Peter a little bottle of Kendal Mint Cake Liqueur. 

“Looks pretty! Woah, it’s so bright! You should get it” Peter said, grinning. “What’s Kendal Mint Cake?”

“Uuh. It’s basically just mint flavoured sugar” Loki said. “It’s supposed to be good if you go walking”

“Oh. Oh wait, I should’ve got my walking stuff out today!”

“Same, but I don’t suppose it matters too much: we’ll have plenty of time. Tony said we’re on holiday for three weeks” 

"Yeah... Sounds like hard work, all those mountains" 

"I think I'll stay on the ground if he suggests Helvellyn or Scarfell Pike" Loki said. "I'm not so resilient as I used to be: I prefer taking it easy" 

"I'm not sure I fancy the idea of dragging myself up a mountain every day either" Peter said. "Although I bet the views at the top are pretty cool" 

"Yes, but they're just as good from down here" 

"We've only seen a little bit though. I'm looking forward to seeing more" Peter said. "Hey, I know Mr Stark said not to be can-I-’aving, but there's some good looking biscuits in here..." 

Loki smiled at him. "We'll say they're to share. Go and choose some: my treat. Go and grab yourself a drink too" 

"Woah, really? Thank you!" 

He went to choose a couple of boxes while Loki decided on a couple more mini bottles and a selection of Kendal Mint Cake, partly for Peter's sake. Peter came back over, and was distracted by the chocolates and cheeses displayed on the middle counter. 

"Woah, can we get some of this stuff?" 

"I think you've got enough treats for now. Let's go and pay for these" 

- 

Tony said they could explore Penrith further at a later date. They made their way back up to the supermarket. As they were getting near, Peter noticed something he'd somehow missed the first time round. 

"Antique centre! Hey, Mr Loki, let's have a look!" 

"Not right now" 

"Aww, please" he clung to Loki's arm. "Please please please please please please please-" 

"Shut up! Tony, make him stop!" 

Tony laughed at them, and put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Ok, kiddo, if you're quiet, we'll have a little look. It's not like we're in a rush" 

Peter stopped chanting and grinned triumphantly. Loki grabbed him firmly by the wrist before he could go running off. Peter looked at him, brow furrowed. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm not paying for your mistakes if you go barging in there like a little elephant and break some priceless antique" 

Tony laughed at him. "Leave the kid alone! He's not going to break anything"

"What makes you so sure?" 

Tony detached Loki's hand from Peter's wrist. "He'll be careful. Won't you, Pete?" 

Peter nodded. 

"See? Come on. Might find something interesting" 

They entered the courtyard, and Tony was immediately distracted by the old vehicles and mechanic equipment outside, and wandered over for a proper look. Loki followed Peter in through the main entrance. It was strange and cluttered like every antique centre, but seemed to be sectioned into little 'rooms' within the warehouse-type building. Peter could feel Loki keeping a close eye on him, so initially he made a great show of keeping his hands behind his back. This didn't last long. He picked up a small faded plastic box of old photo slides, taking a few out to have a proper look. 

"Woah, hey, Mr Loki, look at these" he showed Loki a few of the slides. "Looks like someone's old holiday photos. I wonder how they ended up here" 

"Probably a death with next of kin that didn't really care" Loki guessed. "They're interesting though, aren't they? There's another box there" 

Peter set the first box down and had a look through the other one. He couldn't tell if they were the same people as the pictures in the first one. 

"These are so cool. I kinda want them" 

"What would you do with them? They'd just end up sat on a cabinet or at the bottom of a cupboard collecting dust" Loki said. "They're only worth buying if you work in a museum" 

"I guess you're right" Peter set the box down carefully. "Do you like antiques?"

Loki shrugged. "I like some antiques. But as you've already seen, the most antiqued things in my home are the inhabitants" 

"Do you want more antiques?" 

"I don't know. Maybe. I suppose I have always liked old tea sets. I'd love a proper full royal Albert tea set" he sounded wistful. 

"How much are they?" 

"It depends where you look, since there’s lots of knock-offs, and they’re not all antique: they're still in production, I'm pretty sure. Usually around the 250 mark for a proper set" 

"Ouch" his idea of tracking one down and surprising him with it went out the window. "That's expensive" 

"I know" Loki said mournfully. 

Peter frowned. "Why are you always so funny about spending money? You wouldn't buy one of those Zippo lighters you told me about, you won't buy yourself the tea set. I mean, it's not like you can't afford it. It'd barely make a dent in Mr Stark's fortune. I mean, I've looked it up, and a million seconds is about 11 days, and a billion seconds is about 31 years. That's an insane amount of money. You should treat yourself if you've got the means to" 

"Tony earnt that money" 

"Well, yeah, but he gives you money, doesn't he?" 

Loki nodded slowly. "Yes, he gives me money..." 

"Why don't you use it then?" 

"I do use it. Some of it. Just because I'm not blowing thousands on diamonds and speedboats, doesn't mean I don't spend any money" 

"Well, what do you spend your money on? Aside from cigarettes" 

"Whatever I need" Loki said simply. 

"That's not very specific"  

"It's also none of your business. Stop being so nosey" 

"How can I? It's in my name" 

Loki gave his nose a tweak. "Stop. Don't you remember what happened to Mr Nosey?" 

Peter looked at him, rubbing his sore nose. "You like the Mr Men as well? Oh my god. What Mr Man are you?" 

"Depends who you ask" 

"What about Mr Stark?" 

"He's a mix between Mr Funny, Mr Clever, and Mr Brave" Loki answered. 

"Cute. What about me?" 

"Mr Nosey, obviously. I've already said that" 

"Ok, ok. So back on the subject of money-" 

"One more financial question, and I will smack the nose clean off your face"

Peter huffed. "Fine. I'm going to find Mr Stark" 

- 

Peter found Tony in the back warehouse, deep in conversation with a member of staff. He approached cautiously, not wanting to interrupt, but Tony seemed pleased to see him.

"Ah, here he is" he held an arm out to Peter. "He's a bit of a whizz at this too. Still finding his feet, still a bit more on the sciencey side, but a pretty clever kid" 

Peter soon got drawn deep into the conversation too. He quite enjoyed it, having Tony show off about him and have a proper chat about it. The man showed him all sorts of things that he wasn't quite familiar with, so it was an interesting talk all round. 

- 

Eventually they were forced to tear themselves away and continue up the street to the supermarket. Peter felt that Loki might be upset with him, so he stayed close to Tony and talked to him instead. 

"Have you had a think about what meals you want?" Tony asked. "I don't want to be eating out three times a day, really" 

"Oh, I don't really mind" Peter shrugged. "You choose. But I do wanna try a bunch of English stuff. Can I borrow your phone? What are some traditional home cooked English dishes?" 

Tony laughed and handed him his phone. "Knock yourself out" 

It took Peter a matter of seconds to find a Wikipedia page listing some meals.

"Ok, some of these sound gross" Peter said, wrinkling his nose at the thought of jellied eels and liver. "But some of it looks good. Aww, pasties! We passed that bakery earlier: you should've let me stop" He pouted, scrolling through the list. "Hey, Mr Loki, help me choose" 

"Why?" he said, taking the phone from him. "Look, if you want to eat what they eat here, look at what they have in the shops and on cafe and pub menus, not this list. No one eats half this stuff anymore" 

"How would you know? Maybe everyone here still puts fish heads poking out of their pies" 

Loki gave him an exasperated look, and turned to Tony with a pained one.

"Please say this supermarket has a cafe" 

"Well, we'll see in a minute" Tony said as they approached the entrance. "Oh, yeah, they have. Do you wanna sit and have a drink while we do the shopping?"

"Yes. Your son is starting to do my head in" 

"Well you've been doing my head in all morning!" Peter snapped back, pouting and folding his arms over his chest. 

"Stop bickering" Tony said. "You can go and have a sit down for a while while we sort this, ok darling?" 

"Thank you. Come and get me when you're done" 

Loki was glad to be shot of them. 

Tony shook his head and turned to Peter. "I think we'll need more than a basket"

"Yeah, ok" Peter looked round, soon spotting the trolleys. "I'll grab one of those"

-

"Don't you think it's weird?" 

"What?" 

"This. Yknow, this is just normal and boring for everyone else here. But it's all new and different and exciting for us" Peter said. 

"Always good to try something new. I think we should get Loki a little treat: he seems pretty fed up" 

"Aww just leave him" Peter said bitterly. "It's not our fault he's a spoilsport sourpuss" 

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Have you two had a falling out?" 

Peter ignored him, pretending to look at the pick and mix breads. He was starting to feel pretty fed up too. Tony ruffled his hair. 

"How do you like these?" 

Peter turned to the fridge Tony was surveying.

"Oh woah, these look cool! Can we get some?" 

"Sure. 2 for £2. I'd get a bit of a selection if I were you" 

Peter spent a while looking at all the different options, finally going for choux buns, fresh cream éclairs, and fresh cream donuts. 

"Good selection. You get first pick when we're back at the house, ok?" 

"OK!" Peter grinned. 

Tony smiled. "There, that's cheered you up" 

Peter stuck his tongue out at him.

- 

Tony enjoyed looking round a new supermarket just as much as Peter did, but he tried not to let it show. He did, however, give in to Peter's clamouring for this, that and everything, and ended up with a trolley which was quite a bit fuller than he'd anticipated. 

"Wait, wait! Mr Stark! They've got Kinder eggs! I've always wanted to try these!"

Tony sighed a little, if only for show.. "Ok, put them in the trolley" 

"How many? Can I get five? I want five" 

Tony laughed at him. "Sure. Here, you're starting to bankrupt me a bit here: we'd better go and pay" 

Peter nodded without protest. Their shop had put him in a good mood.

- 

Loki was in a better mood too when they met up with him, although he raised an eyebrow when he saw the trolley. 

"You know, I'll be honest: I didn't expect you to buy enough food to feed a small country" 

"Couldn't resist" Tony grinned. "And I'll be honest; it's mainly treats for the kid"

Loki nodded. "I've got something for him too" 

Peter took the envelope Loki offered him. 

"What's this?" 

"Why don't you open it and find out?" 

Peter did so, and was surprised at what he found: a bundle of twenty pound notes, totalling two hundred pounds. 

"Woah! Thank you!" he was admittedly quite amazed by the generosity. 

Loki smiled slightly. "Holiday money. This way you don't have to ask every time you see something you want" 

"Wow... Are you sure this is ok? It’s a lot of money" 

"Positive" 

Tony gave Peter a nudge. "Put it away and help get these bags into the boot"

Peter shoved the envelope in his pocket and did as he was asked. £200! He felt like he could go crazy, have a proper shopping spree. He'd be able to buy anything, and he'd be able to get May a really good holiday present too, not to mention Ned. This was amazing. He really was getting spoilt.

-

Peter cuddled up against Loki in the car on the way back to the holiday home. 

“Sorry for being all insensitive with you earlier”

Loki nodded, giving him a hug. “Thanks. Sorry I got snappy with you”

Tony watched them in his rear-view mirror. He couldn’t help minding that they were so hot and cold with each other sometimes.

-

Peter made himself useful and helped unload the shopping. Tony was right: a lot of it was treats for Peter, so much so that Tony assigned him his own cupboard to keep his things separate from the communal food. 

“You should probably start policing all those snacks” Loki said, rearranging the bottles in the fridge. “I love a binge as much as the next person, but he’s going to make himself sick if you let him have free reign of all that”

“I am here, you know” Peter said. 

“He’ll be fine” Tony said. “He’s not going to make himself sick”

Loki wasn’t convinced. “Ok, well when he is - and I say when with conviction here - it’s gonna be you staying up with him”

“I’m not gonna make myself sick!”

“I’m getting sick of this topic of conversation” Tony said. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Did you buy any Philadelphia?”

“Yes”

“Yeah”

Peter quirked an eyebrow, but Loki paid him no mind and headed out into the living room to have a look at the shelf of DVDs.

“Peter? How about you?”

“Yeah...”

He followed Loki. Tony sighed heavily. ‘He’ll get what he’s given then’ he thought.

-

Peter went and stood beside Loki, peering at the DVDs.

“You wanna watch a film while we have lunch?”

Loki nodded slowly. “Maybe. They’ve got quite a lot here”

“What are you thinking?”

Loki shrugged. “I’m not sure. You know my DVDs, the ones my brother got me? They’ve got some of those”

Peter looked over the DVDs. “Ooh, they’ve got Coraline! Have you ever seen it? It’s creepy, but I think you’d like it”

“I don’t think so” he took the box down from the shelf, reading the summary on the back. “May as well give this one a go”

“Ok, good!” Peter took the DVD from him and knelt down to work out the DVD player.

“Oh, are you two watching a film then?” Tony asked, coming into the room and setting a couple of plates down on a nearby coffee table.

“Thought it’d be a good thing to do” Loki said.

“I’ll leave you to it. I’m gonna eat outside, just to make a change” Tony said. “Have you got your cigs on you?”

“Yeah?”

“Mind if I pinch one?”

“Since when did you smoke?” Peter frowned.

“I fancy one sometimes” Tony said.

Loki handed him his cigarettes and lighter.

“Thanks hun. I’ll join you in a bit” 

Loki took one of the plates and took a seat on the sofa. Peter got the DVD set up, grabbed the remote and the other plate, and flopped down on the sofa with Loki.

“Uhh, do you know what’s in this?”

“Philadelphia” Loki said, glancing at his identical plate. “Same as me” 

“Huh, ok” he pressed play on the remote. “You’ll like this one” 

“Best be quiet now, then”

-

Something about the opening and it’s soundtrack set Loki on edge. He’d grown to like stop-motion, and the style of this was something different, so he found it quite interesting, if a little unsettling.

The soundtrack invoked something in him. He finished eating and put his plate aside, glued to the screen. He could see why Peter had guessed he’d like it. He barely even noticed when Tony later came and joined them. He couldn’t quite figure out his emotions while watching. He couldn’t help but relate to it - it felt familiar: the neglect, the manipulation, the strange tunnel, the need to run away and escape, the way something seemingly so good turned so bad so quickly, the solidarity found in the most unlikely places... There was something so lonely about it. He loved the cinematography though. It was so unique in style, and the colour themes were so important to the story: the way the characters lived in colour in a grey world in the real house, and how they lived in grey in a colourful world in the Other Mother’s house. The atmospheric change between the two settings felt drastic. There was always something mildly unsettling about the other world, even before it all went wrong. Maybe it was the buttons. Eyes hold so much feeling: take them away, and there’s no real emotion..

-

“Well, that was suitably disturbing” Tony said, standing up as the credits rolled. “Even more so than the first time I saw it” 

He went to turn the DVD off, and Peter shifted closer to Loki, kneeling beside him.

“So what did you think, huh? You liked it, right? Right?”

Loki slowly turned his head to look at the boy. “That was wild”

Peter laughed at him. “It’s great, don’t you think?”

“I think” Tony said, putting the DVD back on the shelf. “That I read something somewhere that said that it’s something that scares adults, but kids see as an adventure”

“I’d say that’s about right” Loki said, resting his head in his hand. 

“Right, are you two gonna get your shoes on?”

Peter looked up. “Why?” 

“There’s somewhere I want to take you. I said that this morning”

“Oh! Ok!” he sprang up from the sofa and ran to the corridor to find his shoes.

Tony sat down beside Loki and gave him a hug. “Bring your camera”

Loki pulled away from him and went upstairs to find the bridge camera he’d found in the cupboard at home. He hadn’t really used it yet. He double checked the SD card, made sure he had spare batteries, and slung the camera case over his shoulder. 

-

Tony parked up. The car park was small, just a patch of gravel really, and empty. Peter couldn’t help feeling sceptical about it, but got out the car without saying anything. Loki adjusted the camera case, looking at the National Trust sign.

“Aira Force...” he read.

“Thought we’d be better coming off-peak. Apparently it gets pretty busy here” Tony said, linking arms with Loki. “Watch your step; ground might be rough”

“Oh, I don’t think I need to worry~” Loki said, kissing Tony on the cheek. 

Peter rolled his eyes at them and made for the dirt steps down from the car park. It was uneven ground, and it took a bit of concentration to navigate. The dirt track was surrounded by trees, just like any old forest. Still, as he continued round, the sound of running water hit his ears, and he stopped for a moment. He shook his head slightly, carried on a little further, and found himself face to face with a cascade of water, tearing down rough rocky edges.

“Woah!” he leant against the wooden safety barrier, looking down into the pool below. “Woah..!”

He heard the whir and click of a camera, and looked over his shoulder. He grinned.

“Look at this! You gotta come and look!”

Tony smiled. “This is just a tiny part of it. It gets even better from here on out”

*

[nibelvng]

a gift of a secret

Happy holidays to @darkness-my-sunshine! I was your Lamento SS for this year! I hope you enjoy your Mama Konoe appreciation fic~ 

to be completely honest i admit to struggling to imagine Leaks in a conventional relationship with anyone, but the goal was still to tell the story of how important Shui’s wife was for both of them, and how she, too, gave nothing but love, so hopefully this is still in line with what you were after! 

a gift of a secret   |  6k  |  sfw  | shui, leaks, mama konoe + raikono 

read under cut or on ao3 for superior formatting

                                                                                                          At some point he realises the forests are alive.

It doesn't happen instantly - just like runes inscribed in time never become language immediately, and the brightest of stars still linger at dawn. Not alive as every creature and insect and blade of grass breathes and thinks for itself - alive as someone you share your thoughts with, someone that replies if you talk and listen, someone that is one but many at the same time.

When he talks about it with Shui, Shui listens, like he always does.

'They just are,' he shrugs when the other cat looks up in surprise, and shrugs again when met with the question of when and how he's come to know exactly. The statement is not like Leaks, not like him to accept something at face value, but this magic has been with him far too long to chase its origin. Still, a part of him cannot help but expect ridicule, or disbelief, or misunderstanding at the very least. Even from Shui.

'I've always suspected just as much.' The Poet hums instead, head thrown back as he stares into the endless blue Sisa sky, smiling into the sun.

Was he ever to be faced with the question of when and where he'd come to realise that he could never really regret anything to do with this impossible cat, Leaks wouldn't hesitate to think right there and then.

The question doesn't come, of course, so there's no need to vocalise the sentiment, the sudden wave of something strangely affectionate. It - it is there, like the ancient structures beneath his fingers as he carries on working, brushing them clean of clay and moss and oblivion. It is enough.

'Sometimes I feel as if I've been a bad influence,' Shui laughs somewhere behind his shoulder. He's been quiet, watching him work and mulling something over, but now Leaks can almost envision the way his tail would dance around some invisible source of merriment, the little wrinkles that form around his eyes when he laughs like this.

'For you to cease the endless quest for logic in everything in the world,' The Sanga continues, 'And to go along with something so unreasonably poetic?'

'The only thing unreasonable would be assuming our way of wielding knowledge and logic to be powerful enough to explain everything in the world.'

That, too, came to him overtime, but it was difficult to believe otherwise. The Moons took turns in the skies above them and brought light, and light gave life to forests, and this happened in a state of blissful indifference to many of the theories the Two-Cane had once crafted on the matter, or to anything the scientist may add to that.

'There's no poetry in it' Leaks adds as an afterthought. 'Just the practicality of being.'

'But it's beautiful nonetheless, is it not?' And something in his voice wills Leaks to tear his gaze away from the mysterious markings on the strange coarse material the Ancient Ones have called 'concrete'; to meet the Poet's eyes directly for the first time throughout this exchange.

'Many a phenomenon,' and there's almost an urge to reach out, somehow, to become closer - 'have the most unusual side effects. Consider this one of them.'

And later on, when Shui sings for him before it's time for them to part, Leaks knows that within this - the warmth that washes over him in waves, the wordless spells that ebb and flow like life itself - somewhere in all this, whatever fact or theorem brought them together could never have been anything but right.

**

The Moon of Day skirts closer and closer to the horizon by the time the sea of village rooftops springs up to greet him, and the familiar murmur of ever-present voices and footsteps and everything else that made the Ribika so unlike the forests fill the air. It is evening - dinner is being prepared in countless kitchens, and countless errands are finally winding down for the day. Shui finds his wife amidst hers - just in time to help her set the table and light up the torches so that the cooking-fire could be put out.

They don't talk much - not because they don't have anything to tell one another, but just because he wants to stay enveloped in the memory of today a little bit longer, wants to hold that song within him. Though no longer the same shade of blue, the skies are still as clear as ever, so tonight they'll talk whist looking at the stars as dusk descends on them. The night before, Leaks had another go at teaching him the names given to stars thousands of years before them - perhaps this time he'd have remembered enough to teach her, too.

They sit by the window, side by side, mugs full of a herbal brew held out before them. It is of habit for his wife to wear her hair up during the day - was he truly the only one without patience to spend on tails and braids of sorts? - but tonight she leaves it down, cascading down her shoulders like she, too, is clad in a traveler's cloak. One lock almost rests atop his elbow, ghosting but not touching. It doesn't have to.

'Is he faring well?' She finally says, without looking at him.

'How did you...' She'd always tease him for routinely forgetting to tell her of his destination (or plans of return) when he leaves, and he doesn't recall telling this time....But perhaps this time he had remembered, for once - a personal best if this was the case, and a first, at tha--

'I have my ways of knowing.' her smile grows mysterious, eyes widening - for dramatic effect, no doubt, aided by the solemn drop in her voice - but he's shared enough of his life with her to know she was laughing. The twitch of her ears, the playful swirl of her tail - clearly way too soon to celebrate a victory to his own newfound competence re: organisation.

'Well, let's see. You leave in the afternoon, so you're not travelling too far. You leave on the day it's your turn for kitchen chores, so you're hoping you won't be back by nightfall -'

'In my defense,' Ok, now she's straight up laughing, and he cannot help but laugh along with her. 'In my defence, have I not cooked two nights in a row just some moons ago?' And anyway, the timing was mere coincidence!

'...And finally, you return like you've stepped out of a legend, with this strange air around you,' For a second she stills, hand outstretched in the air mid-vague gesture, just contemplating him. 'You're only ever like this after you see him. It's fascinating, really...'

'You're just as bad as he is!' he swats at her, a playful maneuver, laughter still bubbling up in his chest. 'All logic and reason and...'

His little attack is intercepted before he can reach her - she's quick to react as ever, of course, and his hand is hopelessly trapped in hers, leaving him no choice but to let their fingers lace together.

It's narrower than his, her hand - but stronger, all callouses and warmth and some herbal ointment that she brews every autumn from some rare seasonal herb. That, too, had come from Leaks, a recipe he strangely hadn't been reluctant to hand over, scribbled on a scroll of soft bark.

He lets them stay like that, hands entwined before them, as the room dips into comfortable silence once more. And once more, Shui is not one to break it.

'Do you think I would be able to meet him, one time?' She asks, light and uninvasive, like the breath of endless green in spring, like the sway of river-water. It occurs to Shui then that she didn't ask as request, as a hope - she merely asks his consult.

'He's. Uh'

He lowers his cup back onto the rectangle of orange by the window, and for a moment his ring catches light, a spark reflected in the glass. How should he explain this? That others have labelled him unsociable and cursed yet every word he speaks is laced with more magic than any song he's ever heard, magic born of love, magic that he somehow stumbled into at a time of need and that has enveloped him ever since?

'He's a little bit eccentric.' Is what he finally settles on. 'I don't imagine he'd be too comfortable with visitors, let alone filling in the role himself.'

She's not too quick to reply herself - just watching him through half-lowered lashes, slow and measured, like the evening sun itself. It creeps through the window until she, too, is showered her in gold. Shrouded by all this light she somehow reminds him of Leaks, slightly, but different.

'Why do you speak as if you offer an apology?' She says, finally, corner of her mouth a lazy half-smile, as if whatever conclusion she's arrived to had left her content.

'There's been times where others...misunderstood.' He raises his shoulder in response. Others, the only thing Leaks rarely spoke about, and the rare instances where he had, the words were scarce and laced with bitterness that doesn't just come based on assumption or precaution.

'Others were fools, then.' She tosses her head back, letting her hair flow, shaking it as if she were drying herself off after the rain. Shui can almost imagine little droplets of golden light scattering all over the place, hiding in the corners of their home where he'll be able to find them later, gathering them into his song.

'I'm not one to speculate' - and he isn't, especially when it comes to Leaks, but this is something he can says with an almost-certainty, 'But I think he'd be quite fond of you, whether you meet or not.'

She only asks once more, in all the moons to come - not long before her son - their son is to be born.

It had been a strange affair - sat strange with him still, the entire framework of physicality that he could never really relate to, of having to conceive a physical manifestation of his love in such manner. There was, nonetheless, a great joy in knowing his song will be shared with one more soul precious to him, that one day his son - no, a name - Konoe - would roam the forests by his side, will look up at his mother with pure joy like he does, will, too, come to meet -

The second time she asks, he catches himself wanting to say yes.

'Is it not only fair that I come offer my thanks in person?' She jokes from where she's curled up in that same old chair by the window. There is a flask in her hand, a tiny glass vial in which a concoction bubbles purple.

The very first time Shui had encountered one of these was the time Leaks handed over a slender glass tube full of something when Shui mentioned the fits of nausea that plagued the mother-to-be as of late. Along with it came a parchment, a timetable of sorts, on when the potion is best to be taken. The scientist himself remained wordless, but something about how it was just lying on the shelf ready to go made Shui suspect he's had it prepared and stored for the occasion.

'It is.' He agrees.

Would it not be only fair that the two most important people in his life should come to meet?

And yet he cannot, and if she's disappointed when he tells her just as much, she doesn't show it.

Truth be told, he's been a lot more persistent than she has - not a single visit as of late had gone without mention that he, Leaks, would be always welcome with them, and that Shui's family was always his as well. And every time without fail the invitation would be declined, and something in Leaks's eyes would be so very gentle, yet so very firm.

'Perhaps one day,' he would say, just before changing the subject, or pretending the potions and mechanisms lining his table required his immediate attention. 'We will see.'

See?

Now here's a thought.

'But I could take you somewhere.' he adds, an echo of her gentle 'No, no, I understand'.

'Not as close as you'd like to,' he adds, even as her ears already perk up with interest, and she sits up straight in her seat. 'But it's something.'

'Something he wouldn't mind?' She asks, as if it's of foremost importance, and something about that makes Shui's chest swell with fondness, making it difficult to decide whether if was for her, or for him, or for both of them at once.

'You'd have to be careful!' he yells out a belated warning as she rushes to get into attire better suited for travel. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. He understood little of carrying young - something even Leaks had pointed out to him with little ceremony - but the process came at a cost, that much he knew. Ok, this definitely isn't the wisest plan - what if something was to happen? What if she'd lose her footing, hurt herself in the woods? It was a long way out, after all, hidden from all - what if -

'You worry too much.' She laughs, as though reading his very mind. 'A little exercise would do me good, as would a breath of fresh air.' Brightly-woven shawl around her shoulders, navy travel-hood - her hair looks almost white against its fabric, dancing in the wind.

'Besides,' And he knows that tone, knows the mischief in it, boding anything but peace and quiet - 'I don't think I've much to fear. If someone with your sense of direction, self-preservation, organisation, and all things survival...'

'Look,' he tries, but there's not much to deny, is there? He's never been especially graceful or resourceful out in the wild, and as for his success as an explorer, well, there has been some...precedents. From what he knew of his wife's youth, the only person he should be concerned for here is himself.

Besides, hasn't Leaks always said the same?

He thinks, as they make their way through the undergrowth, side by side, voices quiet - that the two he's come to love most really aren't as different as he once thought.

Strange – when the place where two worlds meet springs up before them, far away from busy village life as it was – it feels like time has scarcely passed at all.

'This is as far as I can take you.' He says, and though this isn't even truly the start of the magician's domain, his words ring honest. Where she may gaze at the clearing before them, questioning what harm there was in stepping through the lush grasses, and shrubs most ordinary in their growth, he can almost sense the vibrations of an ancient spell, can almost sense the phantom path beneath his feet, the very same he's walked so any times.

Leaks's magic, he could breach, for it always welcomed him; could bring her with him with no harm to be met. Leaks's trust? That alone was sacred.

Again, he wants to apologise, for some reason or another – and again, she looks before herself as if met with great wonder.

Shui looks for words to explain, an introduction of sorts - the place where the forests guided him, the place he was first called 'friend'? The place where magic dwelt, and something beyond words, where his song resonated stronger than ever? The silence hangs heavy, too long, suspended without motion, but - do some things really need explanation to be known?

When her hand moves before her, reaching out to feel the air ahead, it trembles ever so slightly, and with a belated sense of awe, Shui knows that she, too, is feeling.

Strange.

Strange that the girl looked so much – so much like himself, save for the accursed colouring. Well, what was thought of as accursed, anyway. Before Shui had stumbled into his life and somehow stuck around for long enough to convince him otherwise.

Strange that he would have someone else stand before him, just a few tails and a number of spells away - but no distaste would threaten to suffocate, no need to pull up another barrier or to retreat to the heart of the forest would arise.

The strangest of all? The way she smiles as she reaches out to touch the foliage before her, the very tips of her fingers dipping into the woven fabric of his spellcraft. Almost as if she understands. Almost as if she sees him, standing on the outskirts of his life, and doesn't hesitate to reach out to him, welcoming, accepting.

'Will you take Konoe here too, when he's born?' Leaks hears her ask, and he has no trouble imagining a kitten, a child that comes up no higher than those dreadfully-orange boots the Poet insists on wearing – reaching out towards the barrier in the same manner as she does, all curiosity and wonder and something else that he cannot find a name for.

A memory surfaces up without prompting. He isn't sure why, but it's of the one time Shui asked him if he's had a family.

'If he would want to.' comes the reply, without hesitation.

'Which 'he'?' The girl says, and when Shui laughs, he doesn't realise he's smiling along.

Doesn't realise the smile remains on his face all the way until their departure.

'Thank you.' the canopies carry the girl's voice through to him as the two slowly make their way back towards the village. He can no longer see them from his place among the treetops, but he knows the path would see for their journey to be swift and safe.

'What for?' He hears Shui ask, the slightest twinge of disappointment in his voice.

'For letting me meet him.'

'Huh?' and Leaks can just picture the expression he's making, the way his eyebrows crease at the bridge of his nose, not understanding. Maybe the Poet was right when he once told him he was a bad influence when it came to Leaks and imagination.

'W-w are you talking about, we...We didn't...'

'I didn't have to.' The girl laughs, and hm. The reaction is indeed curious, even for Leaks.

'Some things just are – you said he's taught you as much, had he not?'

Silence – this is where Shui would probably nod, ears drooping ever so slightly.

'His world – the one he only shares with you – there's no need for me to be part of it to know. No need to witness for myself to know it's there, and to love it all the same.'

There it is – the very science of existing that he's always believed it, albeit in much more abstract a manner than the allowance he accepts for himself. There's naivete in the statement, and an almost childish hopefulness – but then again, weren't those the very qualities he's analysed in the air around Shui himself? Has he not dissected and categorised them - along with everything else to do with the Poet - as fondness?

You've chosen well, my friend.

You've chosen well, too, the leaves seem to echo, though Shui wasn't exactly a choice – more of a unique anomaly in the algorithm of his life, one that swept everything upside down and settled somewhere in his chest. The girl, too – why had the ghost of a touch against the barrier of spells felt the way it had?

There's another memory that surfaces as he, too, turns on his heels to make way towards his dwelling – a Two-Cane manuscript, or was it more a book of leisure? Something about a gift of a secret – about how the things of greatest importance always went unseen to the eye. Before, he's always theorised it to be incorrect - how could something that wasn't truly there hold so high a value? But that was before Shui, before his laughter and the flutter of flame-red hair, before the band around his finger. Before the feeling of Shui's hand in his, the same hand that was tugging at the strings of his instrument just moments before, the music weaving something into his very soul like a spell. Before the feeling nestling in his chest, the strange satisfaction at finally seeing the girl - Shui's wife - the almost-anticipation at the thought of doing the same for his son. Before -

Before.

And after? What happens once the essential is no more?

***

'What do you mean, it doesn't exist?'

There's three of them perched around a table barely big enough for one, huddled so close that Rai's hair threatens to fall into his, Konoe's eyes, making it all the more difficult to see. There isn't even room for a lamp or a Pathfinder to set down anywhere, so they must make do with the strange device suspended off the ceiling all throughout Tokino's workshop. Bulb-like flowers of steel and something else, they hang from strange metallic threads, shifting with the evening breeze and casting a never-ending dance of shadows across the yellowed paper before them.

It is a map – one deceptively recent, worn and faded the paper it's drawn on may be. The landscape has changed with the Void, and changed again as whole forests and valleys bloomed back into existence. Some old routes were, judging by Tokino's recounts of his endeavours, near impossible, some were a convenient addition to a merchant's path, and altogether the whole process was not without anomaly.

'There's talk going around.' In the sway of shadows, Tokino's face looks narrower, more solemn, drawing them in. 'That this place was where the Void first started. That it used to be dead land, an aftermath of a terrible fire some years ago where no tree would grow, no beast would wander – and then the Void came. Its very nothingness personified, come to life. The cradle of Evil, some have said, and others have deemed it a place that hides the gateways to death.'

Look, they've faced things much worse and much more imminent in their threat, but can one blame Konoe for the little claws of unease making their way up his spine at the anxious rise and fall of his friend's voice, the way he can feel his Touga tense up ever so slightly beside him? The shadows in the corners of the shop suddenly seem to move with a pace of their own, living and impending, and it's so easy to imagine things much greater and darker lurking in the night, in the land where nothingness once used to dwell. Even his longtime friend's face loses familiarity in these murky patterns, something mysterious flickering in his gaze.

But then Tokino laughs, a soft sound of disbelief, and just like that the illusion shatters, sending the shadows creeping back to their corners. Dimly, Konoe remembers watching the merchant herd the kittens of a village next door, back when they were barely more than kittens themselves. He'd have the young ones curl up by the fire beside him as he'd recite legend after legend, getting progressively more and more morbid, even holding up a flaming branch to his face for extra effect. Their shocked gasps, the glisten in Tokino's eyes, the scolding his father gave him afterwards and his willingness to stay with the little ones until they've calmed down again – all nothing but distant memory, now; another time entirely.

'I can't believe you almost looked worried for a second.' Tokino's still laughing, and Konoe can't help but chuckle as well. Falling for something like that, after everything?

Rai, on the other hand, doesn't quite share the amusement.

'Get on with it, will you?' His tail flicks back in irritation, and Konoe almost believes that it's not born out of falling for Tokino's trick as a storyteller, or out of the fact that they could be curling up to go to sleep, was it not for this impromptu meeting.

'Yes, yes.' the ginger cat gives one last chuckle before his tone draws much more composed once more. 'I was passing by this famed spot not too long ago, you see. Making sure the Void is truly no more, mapping out a new trail for the trades to follow.'

'And?'

'It's not there.'

'Alright, so we've heard.' Rai frowns, impatience rising. 'So what is there, where it used to be? Places don't just...cease to exist. Do not tell me the accursed Void has returned?'

'Void, yes, but luckily not in the way we've known the word before. Now, there's a gap where the land used to be, like a chunk of land has been torn out.'

'What, so just...' Konoe struggles to visualise how it must look, where a piece of forest has become no more. 'Just a pit, a hole in the ground?'

'Something like that.' Tokino shrugs. 'A great chasm, where you cannot see the bottom. There's no trace of the Void, but also no trace of life on what's left behind.'

'If there's no traces of anything -' and yes, that did looks suspiciously like Rai stifling a yawn - 'Then why need we concern ourselves with it? I would assume no one foolish enough a cat to stumble close enough to fall in...'

Again, Tokino laughs, but his face remains thoughtful, as though weighting something, and when he turns to Konoe again, he speaks with a sigh.

'I've heard other talk, too. The local cats have legends of the place from before the void came.'

...a long way out, hidden from everyone...

'Talk that made me think the place would have been of interest.'

And the forests would only guide to you the one you call 'friend'

'You're telling me this is it? This is the place where he...'

'Well,' Konoe exhales, and the hand around his tightens just for a moment – the pressure of gloved fingers brings the same coarse comfort Rai's very presence offers. 'It all adds up, doesn't it? A place where no one could go, a place of enchantment? A great fire, a lifeless plain – and the place where the aftermath of his cursed song first evolved?'

'And now, no place at all.' Rai says, face grim, and it's strange to think that this detached hollowness in his voice is born of the same feeling that sources Konoe's song, that had woven together the lives of two cats decades before – theirs, and his mother's, too.

Tokino hasn't been exaggerating - the chasm lies before them like a wound in the ground, jagged edges that wouldn't scar over. No tree would ever grow there again, no rain with glisten in the grass. It isn't all that wide, for its other edge is clearly visible across the vacuum inbetween - lush green of the forest beyond shredded open with a strip of ruthless black. Within the chasm itself there is no bottom - only darkness.

'Just how deep does this thing go?'

The heel of Rai's boot presses into the edge before Konoe can protest or voice a concern for their stability. The bank itself remains monolith, but a buildup of clay and mud and debris crumbles inwards, and Rai's hand descends onto his shoulder to still him, listening for a sound of impact.

No sound comes – even the singing of birds and rustle of leaves seems to grow distant.

'Deep.' Konoe feels the need to reinstate. Something about the scene feels surreal – was this really the remnant of where everything began? The same land his father had once discovered for the first time? The place a soul was torn in two by its own self? If so...

'Why disappear now?' Rai echoes his thoughts. He steps along the edge of the chasm, as if contemplating making his way around, but seems to decide otherwise. 'I'd understand Leaks not wanting the place around straight after- 'A flickers of an eye doesn't miss the way his Sanga stills beside him, and Rai pauses, searching for a better choice of words. 'When the Void first came. But why now, when everything is in the past? When everything birthes itself anew?'

'I don't think this is his doing.' Even now, saying Leaks's name felt odd, a combination of peaceful nostalgia and unease. 'Tokino said this is a recent occurrence, and if he is no more...' His voice trails off into the air.

'I hope myself to be correct when I assume you haven't been running around ripping chunks from the ground?' Rai reaches out to run a hand through his hair. It's natural, Konoe thinks, that he'd look for something uplifting to say, but the words resonate within him with a shadow-grey melancholy.

He doesn't know what prompts him to bend down so that his knees left imprints on the barren ground; what urges him to stretch his arm outwards until he was left touching what was there no more, until his fingers connect with the ghost of a past that was someone else's, yet his own all the same.

He is only glad that Rai is beside him when suddenly his vision goes and his body is too heavy to remain upright; when the music that fills his ears and leaves room for nothing else steals him away from this realm. That strong arms pull him back from a sure fall through emptiness, enveloping, anchoring him to safety.

Rai's voice echoes somewhere on the periphery of consciousness, concern and desperation and things that Konoe has come to call home, but even that fades out of reach. Instead, there -

There is a memory.  

This has happened before – thoughts and feelings that didn't belong to him, drawing him in, burning into his mind, but never since then, never like this.

Still...Could it be?

Leaks?

Father?

No, something else. A voice – a woman's voice, and a warm dry hand brushing his hair off his suddenly much-too-small face.

One day, you'll meet him. One day, you'll undo what has been done.  

One day, you'll know how to forgive.

Who -

One day, you'll learn to love the world like he had. Like your father had.

A press of lips to the dip between his ears, as if every ounce of care and tenderness and protection in the world is woven into the one gesture.

Like I would have.

Hold onto it. Whatever trace, whatever vestige is left – hold onto it. Store it deep within your heart, weave it into your song. It lives on with you, like it did with him, before.

It lives on with you.  

When he opens his eyes again, his vision remains a curtain of white, and for a second he thinks the illusion still has hold of him. He isn't sure how he hasn't remembered this before, but it's there now, confined to his memory – her eyes, always brimming with kindness, the sound of her voice, the songs she would sing to lull him to sleep - much unlike a Sanga's, but carrying power of their own. And hair - long and straight, and almost-white.

But no - it's just Rai, cradling his head in his lap - Rai, who has never left his side, whose face is even now a still frame of concern.

'Are you alright?' He asks, voice full of many more things than his Touga doesn't say out loud. It's only in the brush of the same gloved hand against his cheek that it shows, in the way he scolds him for coming too close to the edge the moment his wellbeing is established - in the phantom ghost of a touch to the base of his ears.

'Just like in the vision,' The words come as response to the touch before he can stop them - though he supposes he should mention something to Rai regardless.

'Vision?' A singular blue eye blinks down at him, and the almost-concealed apprehension isn't completely unfounded, given their track record with those.

This time though, this time it's different.

'I saw...just then, when I touched where it- used to be,' He motions towards the chasm.

'It was...A memory, I think, but...' he furrows his brows in thought, 'I'm sure it couldn't have had anything to do with Leaks...'

Could it?

There has been no time to talk about his mother – no time to talk about their past. He hadn't known what sort of a relationship she'd shared with Leaks, and – well, though he couldn't imagine anything unhappy, he even knew not how close she'd been with Shui himself before he was born. All he had were vague childhood memories where sounds and scents and feelings seemed more tangible than faces and words - and now, the vision from today. The vision that came from a past belonging to someone whose world he always, to this day, had assumed mutually exclusive from hers.

Perhaps he assumed wrong.

They don't stay for much longer – though Rai offers they set camp for the night, or at least linger till nightfall. There is a difference, Konoe thinks, between recognising memories, the means of paying their respect – and clinging to that which is there no longer, circling the past, unable to move on.

'Maybe this is why the place is no more.' He shares these thoughts with Rai as they wade in and out of the seas of green. 'Eventually, grass will grow again, and the roots will close over that vacuum, and the cliffs will be evened out. The forest always claims its victories.'

'And then those memories will be no more.' His companion mutters, more to himself. He walks a step or so ahead, so Konoe doesn't know what expression he wears as he says that, whether the words come with disappointment or relief.

'Why not? They don't have to live in an object or a place to exist.'

'Do you think,' Rai throws over his shoulder, voice softer than Konoe would perhaps be used to. 'In all of Sisa, do you think you there's more traces of them left behind? That you could see them again, even if they're only visions?' - and there's something else in these words – a feeling, a familiarity? Like he's been asked something similar before, somewhere important.

'Would you want that?' he asks to fill the silence. Hindsight tells him the question is a foolish one - after all, the visions were his alone, and quite unlikely to be encountered again, anyway. Rai - Rai carried his own losses, his own memories, and his burden was no lighter.

'Would you?' The silhouette before him resonates.

'Maybe.' when Konoe finally does answer, the silence has gone on for long enough for Rai to come to a halt before him. He looks at him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity, but Konoe doesn't meet his gaze.

'I think,' he says, and now it's his turn to choose his words with care. 'I think it doesn't matter too much, if something like that comes to me or not, if there's a trace of them left elsewhere.'

Slowly, his hand finds Rai's - and just as slowly he presses it against his chest, savouring the weight of it, the affirmation of being.

Shui, Leaks, and now - mother...

'I don't need to see, already...' Rai's hand is cool and calming between his heartbeat and his palm, and though he's not making much sense, he has faith in his Touga to understand. 'Somehow, knowing is enough.'

He feels Rai exhale somewhere into his hair as he's held closer, as an arm is drawn around his shoulders, radiating reassurance. It's nice - to be held like that, to be given the space to melt against another. To share this with someone else.

'Knowing is enough, you say.' the other finally says, drawing out the syllables, and Konoe can feel the smirk in his voice. 'You really are a peculiar cat, you know.'

'What happened to 'foolish'?' It's hard to protest with your face hidden in one's chest, and Rai is reluctant to pull back, so the complaint is muffled - but the other hears him anyway.

'Notwithstanding.'

When Konoe replies, it comes without awareness, without intent. There's just a thought at the back of his mind that never failed to bring him pain every time he would remember - until now.

'I'm afraid the trait might be familial.'

Rai has to pull back then, and he stares him down with a confused exasperation, as if trying to read some secret in the contours of his face. Konoe guesses he's not sure if he's serious.

'Don't...' the smaller cat starts, for he's not too sure of that himself. He shouldn't have said that - it made a poor joke when the past was troubling as it was, and there was nothing akin to humour in the cost paid for his father's missteps, and for Leaks's...

But then Rai is laughing - not a half-swallowed chuckle, not a smirk of sarcasm - no, the laughter is crystalline, and Konoe is almost taken aback by how genuine it sounds.  

'What am I going to do with you,' Is all that Rai can manage, and then he, too is laughing, and somewhere it feels like a great burden being lifted, because it doesn't hurt. Knowing the past - being able to forgive and move on, being able to let go and treasure the memory all the same -

'I don't know,' he says, and there's no untruth in that, only gratitude.

Only laughter shared between a Sanga and his Touga, only trust. Only magic of an emotion that brought meaning to all. And standing there, Rai's hand on his heart, the Moon of Night rising before them and casting the sky silver - Konoe swears there's more that two voices echoing among the endlessness of the forests.

fin.

[hymn2000]

Called To Be A Rock - Frostiron feat. Spiderson AU fanfic - C20

Chapter 1  Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19

Comments/reviews/questions welcome as always

Overall Desc.:  Peter is staying with Tony and Loki one summer while his aunt is away working/travelling.

Chapter Desc.: Peter is still feeling the pain of heartbreak. Tony admires Loki’s attitude and treats him. 

Ship(s) involved: Tony x Loki aka Frostiron

Verse: Personal AU

Ongoing Warnings/themes/cw mentions: domestic, hurt/comfort, family dynamic, mental health issues, problems, nsfw, Tony in Dad Mode, bedroom stuff

Chapter 20 - Breathe In And Breathe Out

-

When Tony awoke, it took him a moment to realise where he was. He turned his head, looking at Loki, who was fast asleep on his side, one hand up by his mouth, his pig under his arm. Tony turned onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, watching him for a moment. He touched him gently. He was warm - a bit too warm, Tony thought. He pulled the covers off him to keep him cool. His dressing gown was rucked up round his waist. Tony straightened it as best he could, smoothing it down over his hip. He stroked his exposed thigh gently, tracing the bruises with his fingertips. 

Loki shifted, rolling onto his back and turning his head away, still asleep. His gown had come undone, and Tony stroked his bare skin gently. Sometimes he rather felt he understood Thor’s ongoing accusations, but it was still hard to cope with hearing them. 

Tony kissed Loki’s face gently, slipping his hand under his dressing gown, squeezing his shoulder. Loki soon woke up, squirming a little while he figured out what was going on.

“Tony..?”

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you” 

“It’s ok. What time is it?” he yawned.

“I’m not sure. Around half eight, maybe?”

Loki looked up at him. “How are you doing?”

Tony shrugged. “I’ve been better. I’m still getting my head around what happened yesterday. Playing the parent is hard sometimes”

“You’re doing it well enough. I wouldn’t worry so much if I were you. We both know he’ll keep hurting for a while. He’ll work it out on his own”

Tony ran his fingers over Loki’s chest. “Yeah, I know. It’s a tricky situation though. Still, I suppose I signed up for all possibilities when I offered to let him stay”

Loki shivered at Tony’s light touch. He tried to ignore it. 

“Do you feel ok?”

“I’m not sure. I just feel a bit sad today. Work’s getting me down. This launch is doing my head in. Having teenager problems to deal with alongside it isn’t ideal. I’m trying not to let it get on top of me”

“You need to relax. Take a break every so often. Stop going in every time someone forgets how to look at an instruction manual. And you can leave Peter to me. Go and do something you like for a bit”

“I know you’re right” Tony said, rubbing Loki’s stomach. “I just wish it was that easy”

“Well, make it that easy, then. Do something for yourself. You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes”

Tony smiled slightly, slipping his hand between Loki’s legs. Loki was expecting it, but it still made him jump a bit. 

“You really are my best friend” Tony said, giving him a little squeeze. “Can we play together for a bit?”

Loki didn’t want to. He’d only just woken up, and he was still half asleep. He just wanted to go and have a quick wash and a cup of tea. But he didn’t want to upset Tony either. 

“After breakfast”

“I’m not hungry”

“Neither am I, but I need a cup of tea”

-

Loki took his time brushing his teeth and drinking his tea. He didn’t bother getting dressed just yet. Tony didn’t make it easy for him; cuddling up against him and stroking his inner thigh and kissing his neck. Loki tried not to feel annoyed, but he couldn’t help it. He liked having his morning tea in peace, and didn’t appreciate having Tony in octopus mode. 

Still, he stubbornly drank down every last drop before so much as looking at Tony. He set the mug down on the bedside table. 

“Ok?”

Loki nodded. “How do you want me?”

Tony grinned, pushing Loki’s legs apart and snaking his hand between them, massaging him roughly. Loki squirmed, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Not so hard”

“Oh come on, I know you like it really~” Tony said, but he let up anyway.

Loki let Tony push him down onto his back. Tony kissed him roughly, one hand still between his legs. Loki wasn’t exactly bowled over. Tony was being very different with him, and it wasn’t really a good thing. Tony soon moved his hand, settling himself between Loki’s legs and grinding their hips together. He grabbed Loki’s thigh to keep him close and ducked his head, kissing his neck roughly and biting him.

“Ow! Tony, be gentle, please”

“Sorry” Tony said, but he didn’t sound it. 

He kept kissing Loki’s neck roughly, squeezing his thigh hard, all his movements becoming harder. Loki squirmed and twitched beneath him, grabbing his shoulders, and Tony misread the signs and was rougher still. 

Loki tried once again to block Tony’s kisses - and it dawned on him that he wasn’t enjoying it. None of this was good. Tony was definitely having a good time, and Loki could feel it. But he himself, he didn’t feel good. None of this had felt nice. He’d gotten zero stimulation from it. He didn’t feel good or loved or anything like that. In fact, he was actually in pain, and not the good sort. 

“Tony?”

Tony stopped biting his neck. “What?”

“I don’t like this. I want to stop” 

Tony wasn’t happy about it, but he did stop, moving off him. Loki sat up slowly, wincing a bit.

“What’s up?” 

“It didn’t feel good” Loki said. “I wasn’t getting anything out of it”

Tony huffed. “Fine. Do you want to go on top for a bit?”

“I’d be happier just stopping completely”

“Fine”

Loki was overcome with a sudden guilt. It took one look to realise that Tony had very much been enjoying himself. Loki shifted closer, putting an arm round his shoulders and resting his forehead against Tony’s temple.

“I’m sorry”

“I said it’s fine” Tony snapped. “Mind giving me five minutes so I can ‘go to the bank’?”

“There’s no need for that” Loki said quietly, reaching down and taking hold of him.

He supposed it was the least he could do.

-

Loki was glad he did it, because Tony seemed to forgive him quite quickly. They lay down and had a long cuddle, and Tony soon tipped Loki’s head back and spent a long time kissing his neck properly, making him squirm and whine in a very different way than earlier. 

Eventually he stopped, pulling back and looking down at him.

“I love it when you blush like that” he smiled. “You may well have a lovely mark in a day or two, I’m afraid. Speaking of which” he touched the skin under Loki’s left eye gently. “Your eye is pretty much healed now. Just a tiny bit of bruising left”

Loki put a hand on the back of Tony’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Good”

-

Since he’d ran out of books to read, Loki hadn’t been using the reading nook, so Peter thought it the ideal place to hide out. He settled in the nest of pillows, playing Tetris on his phone to distract himself. He was feeling very hollow and tired and sore. He wasn’t really hungry, but he took a KitKat from the dolphin bowl anyway, munching absent-mindedly. It didn’t seem to taste of anything.

-

Peter woke up, feeling a little funny. He had fallen asleep quite unexpectedly. He checked his phone, and was surprised to find it was already after noon. He felt a little better, but he was still hurting. But he no longer wanted to recluse: he wanted a hug. Desperately.

It didn’t take him long to find where the grown-ups were. He stayed hidden. They were both in the lounge. Loki was curled up under the quilted blanket, watching telly, and Tony was on the opposite sofa, working on his laptop. 

Peter went off to Loki’s room, finding their book. He spent a while stood there, looking at it, pressing the raised parts of the wrinkled cover so that it clicked. His eyes blurred. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. But he felt so lonely. Surely it had to be worth a try?

-

They both looked up when Peter came into the living room. Tony nodded at him in greeting, but Peter wasn’t really looking. Loki sat up, grabbing the remote and switching the telly off.

“Good afternoon”

Peter looked down at the book, holding it in both hands. He was well aware of his watering eyes and quivering lip, but he tried hard to ignore this. He looked up at Loki, holding the book out to him with trembling hands. 

Loki smiled at him. “We were just about to start chapter twelve, right?”

Peter nodded. 

“Ok, come here, then” Loki patted his knee.

Peter looked over his shoulder at Tony. Tony nodded at him. Peter swallowed hard and took his place on Loki’s lap, feeling rather like he shouldn’t. Loki put an arm round his stomach, pulling him closer against himself. He moved the blanket, wrapping it round both of them. 

“Right..”

Loki took the book from him, and Peter held the edges of the blanket together on his chest, fighting back tears. Loki opened the book to chapter twelve, and begun to read:

“It was not until the next Friday that Marilla heard the story of the flower-wreathed hat. She came home from Mrs Lynde’s and called Anne to account. ‘Anne, Mrs Rachel says you went to church last Sunday with your hat rigged out ridiculous with roses and buttercups. What on earth put you up to such a caper? A pretty-looking object you must have been!’”

Tony looked over at them, and a pained sympathetic expression crossed his face as he saw that Peter had begun to cry. He held the blanket over his mouth to muffle his already restrained self, rubbing his nose against the fabric, but his eyes didn’t leave the pages of the book. Loki kindly chose not to bring attention to it, merely projecting his voice a little more to ensure Peter didn’t miss anything.

Peter soon quietened, soothed by Loki’s voice and the familiarity of the characters he’d grown so fond of. He kept the blanket up by his face, kept his eyes on the page, and finally lost himself in Avonlea.

-

“Anne realised that Marilla was not to be moved. She clasped her hands together, gave a piercing shriek, and then flung herself face downwards on the bed, crying and writhing in an utter abandonment of disappointment and despair. ‘For the land’s sake!’-” Loki interrupted himself with a yawn. “-gasped Marilla, hastening from the room. ‘I believe the child is crazy. No child in her senses would behave as she does. If she isn’t she’s utterly bad. Oh, dear, I’m afraid Rachel was right from the first. But I’ve put my hand to the plough, and I won’t look back’”

Loki lowered the book, yawning again. He rubbed his eye sleepily.

“Dearie me, I’ve gone tired all of a sudden” he said. “Do you mind if we finish the chapter later? I think I need a rest” 

“I don’t mind...”

Loki yawned again. “Sorry”

“It’s ok...”

Loki yawned once more, flopping down on his side and pulling Peter down with him. Peter wriggled a little, making himself comfortable. He turned onto his other side so he was facing Loki.

“Can I stay with you?”

Loki nodded, stifling yet another yawn. He wasn’t sure why the fatigue had hit so suddenly. He pulled Peter close, snuggling down with his head his arm. Tony left his laptop and went over to them, placing a hand on Loki’s forehead.

“Are you feeling alright, lolly?”

“Mm. Just tired. I’m not ill”

“Hm. I’m not so sure: you’re quite warm” Tony said.

“I’m fine. Just let me sleep” 

Tony sighed. He pulled the blanket up over them properly. He hoped Loki was right.

-

Peter slept for a little while. When he woke up, Loki was still asleep, so he tried to stay quiet, not wanting to wake him. He couldn’t help feeling emotional. Loki treated him just the same as he always did, and it was almost bittersweet. He almost felt like something should have changed, but at the same time, he was immensely grateful that it hadn’t. He looked at Loki, and immediately started crying. 

“Come here, you” Tony said gently, coming over and pulling Peter up from the sofa for a hug. 

“LET GO OF ME!” Peter shouted, surprising both himself and Tony, and waking Loki up in the process. 

“What are you shouting about?” Loki mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

Peter looked at him, and then back at Tony. He pulled his arm free from his grip, looking between the two of them again, starting to cry harder. 

“I want to go home!” he buried his face in his hands, overcome with sobs. “I want to go home! I want May!”

Tony looked at Loki. Loki shared his look of concern and stood up, pulling Peter close. Peter couldn’t help clinging to him, swapping his hands for Loki’s chest. 

“It’s not fair! It hurts so much!” 

“I’m so sorry..!” Loki started crying too. “I wish I could make it better, I really do”

“H-hey, stop it, both of you! Stop it!” Tony grabbed hold of them, pulling them close. “Stop crying, please! This won’t solve anything”

“I can’t help it!”

Tony held them tight. “I can’t stand seeing you two upset. Shh, please. Everything’s ok. Everything is going to be ok, I promise. Come on, please. No more tears”

"I can't help it! It hurts so much!" Peter sobbed, face still buried in Loki's chest. 

"I don't know what to do. Tony, I don't know what to do! How can I make it ok again?" 

"Hey, hey hey hey, come on now, stop this. You've been brilliant. You've handled everything wonderfully. You've been honest, that's the best thing you could do" he kissed Peter's temple. "Sweetheart, I know it hurts. I know it's horrible and you feel rejected. But it could be so much worse. You've still got a friend. You've cleared everything up. You have our support. Everything will be ok. I know it doesn't stop your feelings from hurting, but I promise everything will be ok" 

Peter found it very hard to accept his comfort. He felt truly in love with Loki, and didn't see how anything could be ok ever again when he couldn't be with him, when he couldn’t show him how much he really loved him. Deep down he felt like an idiot for letting himself show such emotion, but comforted by both of their understanding and at the knowledge that he could throw himself down on his back and scream without too much consequence if he so desired, he soon started to calm down a bit.

“That’s it. Shush now, it’s ok” Tony gave Loki a quick kiss. “You too, darling: quiet now”

If only for Peter’s sake, Loki managed to stop too. He couldn’t help feeling tremendously guilty, even though he knew that he couldn’t have done anything differently. Peter pulled free, wiping his eyes, not quite able to bring himself to look at them.

“I’d like to be alone” he said quietly.

Tony nodded. “Of course. We’ll give you some space. Loki, can I see you in the study?”

Loki felt it wouldn’t be right to hug Peter, although he quite wanted to. He merely nodded, and followed after Tony, leaving Peter to mull things over.

-

Tony shut the door and turned to Loki.

“Take your jeans off”

Loki did as he was told, watching Tony nervously. Tony pushed him down into the big leather desk chair, getting on his knees in front of him. Loki quirked an eyebrow, and Tony put his hands under Loki’s thighs, pushing his legs apart.

“Um, Tony?”

“Quiet”

Loki shut his mouth - and gasped as Tony ducked his head and started kissing his inner thighs. He was surprised: this wasn’t what usually happened in the study - not that he was complaining. His face had already gone hot, and he knew he was blushing. Tony had grown very good at utilising Loki’s sweet spots, and he was certainly showing his skills this afternoon. Loki bit his lip, looking down at Tony, stroking his hair gently. What had brought this on? he wondered, finally giving in and resting his head against the back of the tall chair, letting his eyes close. God, this felt good.

-

Loki thought how he’d love to feel like this always - warm and loved, with that wonderful hot feeling in his stomach - but that inevitably he’d soon stoop to the other end of the spectrum. He cursed himself for thinking it - why couldn’t he just enjoy the good while it was happening? He tried hard to stop thinking, focusing on how soft Tony’s lips felt, suckling on his skin, and how strong his hands felt as he held him in place. It felt like forever since he’d been treated like this. He was biting his lip hard, trying not to give in - but he couldn’t help his heavy breathing and the arching of his back; and he couldn’t stop his legs trembling against Tony’s shoulders. Tony’s grip tightened, keeping him as still as possible, loving the feeling of his hands in his hair, of him slowly losing control. He looked up at Loki, their eyes meeting - and Loki let out a moan, long and loud. With that, he lost all composure, pushing at Tony’s shoulders and squirming, breathing in gasps, begging and whining and moaning, moaning his name. Tony took that as his cue, planting one more firm kiss on each of Loki’s shaking thighs and stopping, resting his head against Loki’s knee, smiling as he watched him try to suppress his moans.

Loki shut his eyes, trying to calm himself, still a little irritated at himself for giving in. He finally composed himself, and looked down at Tony.

“What was that in aid of?”

Tony smiled, getting off his knees and sitting on Loki’s lap, winding his arms round his neck, kissing him gently.

“You’ve been so good. I thought you deserved a little treat~”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean with the kid. You’ve been incredible. You’ve treated him just the same as always, you’ve stayed friends with him, you’ve not shouted or told him he was an idiot or anything like that. You’ve behaved perfectly. Thank you. Honestly, thank you so much”

“No problem?” Loki said uncertainly.

Tony smiled. “Is there anything else you’d like? Just name it; and I’ll do it”

Loki thought for a moment, hit again with the realisation that his mood could u-turn at any moment without any warning. He felt dreadful for thinking it, especially with Tony trying to do something nice for him. 

“Um, well, you know, my back has been hurting a bit recently...” 

“Ooh, fancy a back rub, is that it? Use that expensive gel?” 

Loki nodded. “Yeah, but first, I thought... Well. Can we do what we usually do in here? Just for a bit? Not too hard - just, well, almost gentle - but not quite gentle - but we don’t have to, not if you don’t want - but I do want - and-”

“Loki” Tony stopped him. “It’s a bit of a u-turn, but if that’s what you’d like, I’m game” 

“Really?”

“Of course. When have I ever passed up on the option of having you over my knee?”

Loki couldn’t help but smile. Tony always enjoyed it just as much as he did, if not more. 

“Do you want to use anything?”

Loki shook his head. “No. I don’t want it to hurt too much. I’m in a bit of a gentle mood”

“A bit fragile, perhaps?” Tony said. “You’re still all a-quiver now”

Loki shrugged one shoulder. “Well, you’re good at making me do this”

“Aren’t I just~?” he kissed him hard on the cheek. “Come on then, my good boy: let’s get started”

-

Tony moved them over to the big leather sofa against the opposite wall, and Loki was more than happy to get into position over his lap. Tony slipped a hand under him, holding him under the arm, and Loki held onto his arm, resting his head in the crook of Tony’s elbow. 

They negotiated briefly on strength and comfort, and once both were happy, Tony held Loki a little tighter and raised his hand.

Loki relished in that first proper hit and the delightful pain it brought him. He couldn’t help being briefly reminded of Peter’s invasive conversation with him, but he pushed it out of his mind, focusing on Tony’s hands, holding him and hitting him. Hard. He soon found himself grinning, and soon - and without really knowing why - he started laughing. Tony was a little surprised, but merely smiled fondly and carried on. That is, until Loki became a little less restrained, and then he couldn’t help it either.

“What are you giggling about? Are you enjoying this?”

Loki shifted slightly so he could look at him, his nose wrinkling as he grinned up at him.

“I didn’t say to stop~”

Tony pushed him back down firmly. “Stay still, then”

Loki squirmed briefly, if only to tease him. Tony knew he was just playing, and he was quite immersed by it. He brought his hand down again - a little harder this time - and Loki squeaked and went quiet for a moment, but as Tony carried on, he started laughing again, more than before. Tony started laughing too, and soon had to stop, pulling Loki upright and sitting him on his lap.

“What’s gotten into you, eh?” he asked, tickling Loki’s stomach.

Loki squeaked and grabbed his hand, falling against Tony’s chest in a fit of laughter. Tony tipped his chin up and kissed him on the nose.

“You’ve gone all silly” 

Loki didn’t protest it. He wasn’t sure what had started him off, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He’d made Tony laugh too, and that just seemed to make him worse.

“Ok, ok, come on then, my giggly little god. Let’s move”

He slipped a hand under Loki’s knees and stood up, carrying him to the bedroom.

-

Tony set the still-giggling Loki down on the bed. 

“Right, lets-”

He was interrupted by Loki’s lips against his own. He had to sit down so he could kiss him back properly, but Loki seemed to have other ideas - kissing him all over and holding onto his shoulders to stop him from escaping. He was clumsy with laughter, still a little trembly in the legs. 

“Ok, ok, that’s enough” Tony moved Loki’s hands and stood up.

Loki grabbed him with an arm round the stomach, pulling him back down onto the bed. “Not so fast!”

“Careful!” Tony struggled back up, kissing Loki quickly to stop him from whining. “I just need to grab something, ok? Just give me thirty seconds”

“I’ll give you ten”

“Twenty”

“Ten”

Tony sighed. “Fifteen?”

Loki considered. “Fine”

Tony was glad he knew exactly where the Musselflex was, as he knew Loki would hold him to time. He grabbed it quickly and returned to the bed.

“You said your back was hurting, right?” he said, reading the back of the tube.

Loki looked at him, at his pensive expression, and burst out laughing again. Tony looked at him for a moment, surprised, but couldn’t help grinning.

“Have you got a secret supply of entonox that I don’t know about, by any chance?” 

Loki was already laughing too much to properly talk to. Tony set the tube of gel down on the bedside table and climbed back onto the bed, pulling Loki close and tickling his tummy.

“Don’t!” Loki shrieked at him. “Don’t! You know I’m ticklish!”

“Exactly” Tony grinned, and kept tickling him. 

Loki tried to push him away, weak from laughter. Tony laughed too, if only because Loki’s was so contagious, and soon managed to push his giggling partner onto his back, where he stopped his attack. Loki was still laughing like anything, covering his face with his hands. Tony looked down at him with quiet admiration, and started to undo his shirt.

“Lets get this off, my silly little darling~”

Loki sat up and let him remove his shirt, and then grabbed hold of him, falling back onto his back and pulling Tony down on top of him as he did so. Tony ducked his head, kissing Loki’s neck and in turn sending him into another fit of the giggles. Loki covered his face again, feeling like he may never stop laughing - and it felt good. Tony moved back slightly, sitting atop Loki and retrieving the Musselflex and rubbing some of the gel between his hands.

“This is gonna be cold, ok?”

Loki wasn’t paying much attention, and startled a little when Tony placed his hands on him. Tony rubbed his stomach and sides, working his way up to his chest.

“Ok, darling, shh. It’s time to calm down now” he said softly, starting on his shoulders.

Loki started to quieten, moving his hands from his face and resting them on Tony’s wrists. Tony looked down at his hands, lest eye contact should cause Loki to fall into another peal of laughter. Loki had calmed considerably, still giggling feebly, but as Tony started at the base of his neck, he soon fell silent, relaxing into his touch. Tony finally looked at him properly.

“There we are” he said quietly. “Good boy”

Loki smiled a little, and let his eyes close, feeling sleepy. He kept his hands on Tony’s wrists, concentrating on how nice it felt.

-

When it seemed Loki may well have fallen asleep, Tony paused, kissing Loki’s nose gently. Loki opened his eyes sleepily.

“Turn onto your tummy for me, sweetheart” 

Loki was happy as he was, but so sleepy he didn’t feel he could speak to say so. Tony moved off him, and he turned onto his tummy obediently, moving the pillow to support his neck better, and making himself comfortable. Tony kissed the apple of his cheek.

“Comfy?”

Loki nodded slightly, closing his eyes. Tony kissed him again and picked up the Musselflex, squeezing a little more gel onto his hands before starting on Loki’s back. He stroked his sides gently and moved to his lower back, resuming his massage. Loki started, sucking his breath and quickly propping himself up on his elbow.

“H-hey, hey, oh sweetheart! I’m sorry; was that too hard?” he gabbled, although he really hadn’t applied much pressure at all.

“N-no. No, sorry, it just hurts-”

“Ok. Ok, here, I’ll stop”

“Please don’t” Loki said, looking back at him. “Everything online says massage helps. I’m sure I’ll feel better for it if you carry on”

Tony wasn’t convinced. “I don’t want to hurt you”

“It’s fine, my love. I promise it’s fine” Loki lay back down properly, one hand up by his mouth so he might hide any pained expressions that may come. 

“Well, if you’re sure...”

Tony still hesitated a moment before continuing. Loki squeezed his eyes shut, trying very hard indeed to stay quiet. It hurt horribly, to the point where he wasn’t convinced that it really would help - but he bore with it anyway, focusing on his breathing. In - one, two, three - out - one, two, three, four...

“Loki, you’re shaking” Tony paused, looking at him worriedly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Loki swallowed and cleared his throat, putting on as strong a voice as he could manage.

“I’m sure. You probably just hit a nerve, darling~” 

-

Tony knew Loki was in pain, but he also knew he was too proud to admit it, and would likely get defensive if he stopped. So he kept on valiantly, trying to ignore the pained look that his partner wasn’t quite managing to mask. He was immensely relieved when he reached Loki’s shoulders again. As he had hoped, Loki soon started to relax again. Gradually, his shaking stopped, his expression softened, and he was calm once more. 

Tony spent a long time on his neck and shoulders, finally drawing back when Loki was near sleep. He kissed him on the cheek and got up from the bed, filling a glass of water from the cooler and setting it on the bedside table. He sat on the edge of the bed and gave Loki’s shoulder a gently squeeze.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Really good... Thank you”

“No problem, honey. Do you want to sit up now? In your own time”

“Yeah, will do...”

Loki slowly turned onto his back, and let Tony assist him to sit up against the headboard, pillows propped up behind him. Tony gave him a gentle kiss and handed him the glass of water. 

“Drink”

Loki did so, draining the glass. Tony refilled it for him and sat close beside him, one arm round his shoulders.

“What time is it?”

Tony checked his watch. “Just gone four” 

Loki nodded, sipping his water. “Thank you for this afternoon. It was nice”

“No worries, lolly. I’m sorry I got all sulky with you this morning” 

“Don’t be. I know you’re stressed right now... I don’t think this new situation is helping”

Tony sighed. “It’s not an easy one. Peter’s usually such a happy, upbeat kid. It’s hard seeing him upset. He’s had a few bad spells while he’s been here”

“Maybe, but that’s not such a bad thing: it means he feels safe. He likes that we don’t hold back so much here”

“What gives you that idea?”

“I read his journal”

“Loki!” Tony looked at him disapprovingly. “You shouldn’t invade his privacy like that”

“I know, I know. I didn’t realise what it was at first: I thought it was lab notes. He’d left it in the kitchen. So I just had a quick flick through. It was interesting, seeing how he sees the world” Loki looked down at his glass. “He does feel safe here, about emotions and stuff”

“What did he say?”

“Now who’s invading his privacy?” Loki shook his head. “Just something about how you never get angry at me for being loud, yknow, when I feel like shouting. He’s reassured that he could do the same without it being a big thing”

Tony wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Well if he needs to, I’m not going to stop him. But still, I hope he that he doesn’t need to. And I hope he doesn’t copy you:- your wobblies can be pretty tricky to deal with”

“Yeah, but that’s different. You’re used to me now”

“Ok, but I’m used to Peter too, in many ways. You’re very different though: I know that you cope with things either by going into silent mode or screaming about it. I’m not really sure what Peter’s style is. I’m not sure I want to know: knowing means I have to keep seeing him upset”

Loki rested his head against Tony’s shoulder. 

“I didn’t get why you liked him so much at first”

Tony furrowed his brow. “I’d told you all about him, though”

“Yes, and I understood the stories. But when I met him, I didn’t really see it, not at first. But I get it now. He’s a special kid”

Tony rested his head against Loki’s. “He’s a great kid. He’s experienced a lot of bad in his life already. I want better for him. He’s so utterly unspoilt - I don’t want him to lose his faith, you know?”

Loki did know - but he no longer knew what to say. He knew Tony loved Peter. He knew he wanted to teach him and protect him. He knew they’d clashed a bit recently, and that it was really just paternal instincts and teenage feelings disagreeing. He knew that Peter loved Tony too. It had been clear from the start, with the way he held onto his every word and looked to him for advice and clarification, and just the way he looked at him generally. They meant a lot to each other. There was a certain purity to their relationship, and mostly, it was wholesome to see.

-

Loki slept for half an hour. When he woke up, he pulled on Tony’s dressing gown and went to track him down. As expected, he was working on his laptop in the lounge. He seemed a little surprised to see him.

“Oh, hello there” he said. “I thought you’d sleep a lot longer than that”

“So did I” Loki said, sitting down beside him. Tony tilted the screen away from Loki’s view. “What are you looking at?”

“Don’t be nosey” he snapped the laptop shut before Loki had the chance to make a grab for it. 

Loki huffed, sitting back. Tony moved the laptop aside.

“Now, don’t you go getting all moody on me” he said, pulling Loki onto his lap. “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

Loki shrugged. He wasn’t hungry. 

“Well, have a little think. You’ve got time: I need to track down the kid and have a little talk to him before I get started anyway”

Loki slid off Tony’s lap, getting up and retrieving Anne of Green Gables from where it had been left by the opposite sofa. He considered the options.

“Loki, no” Tony said. “You’re not to go to him. I know you mean well, but he needs space. Wait for him to come to you”

Loki didn’t move. Peter had been happy while he was being read to. 

“Loki. Come here”

Loki did so, stopping in front of him. Tony took the book from him, setting it down on top of his laptop. He patted his knee. Loki sat down beside him, resting against the arm of the sofa. Tony put an arm round his shoulders.

“Talk to me, baby”

“I’m sad”

Tony nodded. “Ok”

“I feel so bad. I know I didn’t mean to upset him, but it’s still horrible”

“I know. It’s good that you care. That’s all he needs right now: a bit of TLC and support. You know, after we talked, I was all set to scold him, but when I went to him, when I saw his face, it put it all into perspective. He was devastated. We’ve all felt that way before. It’s horrible”

Loki nodded. “There’s nothing like it. It’s indescribably horrendous”

“You can say that again”

They looked up. Peter was standing over by the other sofa, looking very small and tired, his skin pale and his hair messy. 

“Can I sit with you?”

“Of course you can. Come here, kiddo”

“Grab the blanket first” Loki said.

Peter picked up the quilted blanket from the sofa. His heart started thumping as he got close to them. Loki stood up, taking the blanket from him and wrapping it round him. It made him look smaller still. Peter held the edges of the blanket to keep it in place. He looked up at Loki, at the concerned look in his eyes, at his soft expression and the light bruising on his neck - and he teared up despite himself. 

“Oh sweetie” 

Loki picked him up and sat down with him in his lap, his legs over Tony’s. Peter rested his cheek against Loki’s chest, not quite crying. Loki held him tight, keeping him safe and warm in the quilted blanket. Peter glanced at Tony, but returned his gaze downwards, looking at nothing in particular.

“How long is it going to hurt for?”

Tony and Loki exchanged a look of equal hurt at his question. Tony rested a hand on Peter’s knee.

“It’s impossible to say” he said. “But it will get better”

Peter wasn’t reassured. 

“I listened to that song again” 

Loki nodded.

“I’ve been listening to more of their stuff. They’re good”

Loki stroked his hair gently. “Have you got a favourite song?”

“Fall Down At Your Feet”

“Remind me how it starts”

Peter had listened to it enough to know all the words now. “I’ve given all that I can give, was only what I wanted, holding you it’s easier to breathe, the more I lose..”

“..the less it hurts, the hurt is saving me, I’m on my knees, oh please” Loki finished the verse for him. 

Peter was quiet for a moment, going over the chorus in his head. I, I wanna fall down at your feet, why, why do you bring me to my knees? I, I wanna fall down at your feet. Down, on my knees, on my knees... He knew Loki was going over it too.

“It’s a good one”

“It is” Loki agreed. “I always forget about it. It’s always nice when it gets rediscovered”

“I like it” 

He was still looking down, feeling quite disconnected and numb. He was aware of the tears dripping down his cheeks, but he made no effort to wipe them away. Loki pressed his lips to the top of Peter’s head, not quite kissing him. He pulled the blanket up over his shoulder better and cuddled him tight, rocking him gently. 

Tony watched them, keeping his hand on Peter’s knee. He was glad Loki seemed to have it covered, as he was feeling very emotional himself now. He didn’t need Peter to see that.

-

They cuddled for a long time. Peter closed his eyes, feeling secure. He knew this was going to hurt for a long time, but at least he no longer had anything to lose. Eventually, and just when Tony thought him asleep, he spoke quietly:

“Take it all, I take the fall, don’t have to give it back, I’d give you the world, so tell me when to stop”

“Anything you want, anytime you want”

Peter took a deep breath. “Tell me what you need, I’d give you the world, so tell me when to stop” 

“I, I wanna fall down at your feet, why, why do you bring me to my knees?”

Peter opened his eyes and looked up at Tony. He hadn’t expected him to know the song at all, much less the lyrics. Tony offered him a sympathetic smile. 

“Do you believe me now?”

Peter held a hand out to him, and Tony took it, holding it tight. 

‘...it’s a good way to make sense of things, giving it a soundtrack’

Tony shifted a little closer, snuggling against Loki’s side. He kept hold of Peter’s hand, rubbing his knuckles gently with his thumb. Peter looked at them. He focused on the feel of Tony’s hand, of Loki’s arms round him, of the quilted blanket against his skin. He felt warm from both men and their embraces, and from their love; their support and understanding. He was still hurting, but for now, that pain had eased. He didn’t need to shout and scream or anything like that. He just needed to sit where he was, listening to Loki’s heartbeat, looking into Tony’s eyes, and knowing in the comfortable silence that everything would be ok in the end.

*