#the macchiato looks a little less pretty than yesterday's

[greyias]

After my fails in galactic seasoning, I almost forgot my original plans for this morning--finish writing for the swtor gift exchange! Sorry Tadfools, I have prior obligations.

Hopefully the power of my homemade barista attempt at an apple crisp macchiato, Theronguin, and a little ambience will help coax my writer brain out of hiding.

[allegra-writes]

"Upside Down Soy Iced Caramel Macchiato"

Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Coffee shop AU

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff.

I usually steer clear from physical descriptions, but this is a special little something for the Decaf Coven, @amayatheowl @cocoamoonmalfoy @seolaseoul and @chaoticpete @bleh-bleh-blehs just this once, this is a brown eyed, brunette!Reader. If you prefer, you can read the Darklina version on AO3

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

"Here, Ivan? Really??" Aleks raised an eyebrow, judgement clear in his voice as he glanced at the sign above their heads announcing the "Brewed Awakening" cafe, a new age, yoga friendly, law of attraction or some other hippie bullshit better suited for sunny, spiritual, hip Shu Han than for gloomy, cold, cynical, spartan Os Alta. And definitely not suited for the coldest and most cynical of Os Alta Business men, Aleksander Morozova.

Ivan shrugged, his stoic face carefully blank, as always.

"Fedya likes it. And they make a mean cold americano" 

Aleksander let out an sceptical scoff, but followed his friend inside, there was no time for arguing and no time to look for another coffee shop, their next deposition beginning in less than twenty minutes, so he would have to, as Fedyor would say, suck it up. He was under no delusions about the quality of the coffee offered at this place, in his experience, these kind of venues were far more concerned with decorations and ambience than with the grounds they used. 

Sure enough, the interior of the cafe looked like something out of a magazine, mismatched wooden chairs and tables artfully combined, royal blue couches on top of white plush rugs creating little cozy conversation spaces, empty cages hanging from the ceiling, candles in every available surface… 

There was a small queue in front of the mahogany counter. 

"Maybe we should leave, we'll be late"

"Non sense" Ivan replied, "if we have to sip our coffee on the way back, it will still be worth it, trust me"

Aleksander was about to protest, but the words died in his throat when a costumer stepped aside, and he saw her: Dark hair piled on a messy bun atop her head, warm coffee eyes and a smile that seemed lit up the entire shop, if not the entire city. 

His mother had told him legends when he was a little kid, fairy tales about the Grisha, seductive creatures of supernatural beauty that could control the elements at will, often leading men to their downfall with their bewitching wiles. As he watched her, shinning brighter than the golden Firebirds painted on the wall behind her, there was no doubt in Aleksander's mind that this girl was one of them, a sun witch, like Sankta Alina, who had bravely walked into the shadow fold and faced the Black Heretic, breaking the spell and turning him back into a man with a true love's kiss. 

The girl turned away from them to start making the drink for the guy in front of them. 

"Sorry!" She called back, "The other barista bailed on us, so it's just me today. If you can give me five minutes, I'll be right with you" 

Ivan made a face, opening his mouth to politely decline, but Aleksander beated him to it.

"No problem, take your time. We're not in a hurry"

Ivan frowned, but Aleksander was technically his superior, so he didn't say anything. 

"Really? Thank you-" The girls eyes' met Aleksander's over the pastry display case, and froze, doe eyes making her look pretty much like a deer in the headlights. Aleks' heart skipped a beat. 

The girl shook herself,

"Right. What- um… what would you like to order?"

"Just an espresso for me, and an iced americano for my friend" Aleksander announced.

"Zoya wants a soy latte" Ivan reminded him. 

"And a soy latte" Aleks repeated, obediently.

"Perfect. I mean, sure, right away. Just let me finish this Macchiato here and I'll… make them. For you." 

Aleksander felt bad for the obviously overwhelmed girl, but he would be lying if he said her flushed cheeks and nervous fumbling wasn't the cutest thing he had ever seen. 

The time seemed to fly as he watched her, dainty little hands dexterously turning nobs and levers and pressing buttons, until she finally stepped forward, presenting them with two drinks on the counter, but Aleksander only had eyes for her, and the way a single, rebel curl escaped her bun right under his attentive watch. His hand twitched with the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. And maybe, just maybe, cup her face on the way back, stroke those adorable pink cheeks, bring her closer to him, lean in and-

"What is this?" Ivan's stern voice tore him out of his daydream.

"Um, an americano and an upside down iced soy caramel macchiato…" The girl replied, "That- that was your order, right?" 

Aleksander's heart twisted inside his chest at the uncertainty in her voice.

"Yes, that's exactly what we ordered" He reassured her quickly, closing his mouth around the straw of his designated cup for good measure. The girl gasped, eyes zeroing on his lips, making the butterflies inside his stomach take flight. 

"Delicious" he declared, blindly handing her a bill that the girl distractedly took and stuffed into the register, eyes never leaving his. 

Ivan wondered if either of them had realized his boss had just handed her a fifty. Gruffly, he grabbed his drink,

"Well, we should get going now. There's an important meeting and we're already late" 

Taking his boss' elbow, he practically dragged him away as the barista girl waved them goodbye.

"See you soon" It sounded like a question. Aleksander threw her a smile over his shoulder,

"Very" he promised. Ivan was starting to think he had made a terrible mistake showing him this place…

…

There was a tall, handsome dark skinned boy next to his barista when he walked into the cafe the next day, poking her in the ribs and telling her something apparently very witty if the way she threw her head back laughing was anything to go by. Aleksander felt the strange impulse to bite his hand off.

However, his unexpected desire for violence left as suddenly as it had arrived, when the sunshine girl spotted him, her face breaking into an impossibly bigger and brighter smile.

"Upside down iced soy caramel macchiato guy!"

Aleksander beamed: she remembered him. 

Well, kind of. She still had his order wrong, but to be honest, Aleksander was too happy to care. 

"That's me" He laughed, "or, you know, Aleksander, for short" 

"Aleksander" She repeated, and he could have died right there and then. His name was probably the most common name in the entire Ravka, but it sounded different from her lips. It sounded special. "I'm Y/N" she offered him her hand to shake. He took it, and swore he could feel sunlight fill his veins where his skin met hers. 

"Y/N" he tried it, loving the sweet taste it left in his mouth. Sweeter than yesterday's macchiato. A throat cleared somewhere beside them. 

"Right" She seemed to wake from the spell first, "Same as yesterday?"

Aleksander nodded,

"Of course! That was the best iced macchiato I've ever had" 

Y/N smiled again, positively glowing as she made her way to the espresso machine. 

Yeah, Aleksander could drink overly sweet coffee drinks until he got diabetes, as long as he could see that smile every day for the rest of his life… 

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 72 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Miss Fame and Raja appeared on morning TV, and Miss Fame was visibly irritated with Courtney.

This Chapter: Violet stresses, Sutan orders some dinner, Katya chills, Raven preens, and Courtney’s Day From Hell continues.

***

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

“Hello?!?!”

“I’m sorry, Miss, I-” Courtney picked up her bags, prepared to head into the building. She looked at the cab driver, wondering if she should attempt to get a receipt for her expense report or just say fuck it. Jaida was pretty forgiving with petty cash records if the ride was less than fifty dollars.

“Do you know what happened when I got dressed for the investor lunch, Courtney? Thank god Raja was here, she’s the one who spotted it!”

Courtney pushed the door to the cab closed with her hip, trying to follow Miss Fame’s thought process, her heavy purse slung over one shoulder and laptop bag over the other.

“Spotted…?”

“A rip! There was a rip in the seam of the dress! Is that how you wanted me to show up? Looking like an absolute disaster?!”

“I-” Courtney scrambled into the lobby as quickly as she could to avoid the drizzling rain, glancing for a moment at the elevators before deciding that getting cut off wasn’t worth the risk. She opened the door to the stairwell and began trudging up, cursing the heels she’d chosen today and wondering if it would be too awful and unsanitary to just take them off and go barefoot.

“Next time you pick something up, you need to use your brain and your eyes and check the garment! Always check everything! Don’t trust anyone, do you hear me?!”

“Yes, Miss.”

“These kinds of careless mistakes are unacceptable. You’re not new anymore, you’ve been here for months. Violet isn’t around to protect you, you have to think, think!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“Luckily for you, I had my outfit from the show this morning, so it wasn’t an absolute disaster but if this ever happens again, I won’t be forgiving.”

“I understand, Miss.”

“This meeting better go flawlessly. I simply cannot take more incompetence today!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“That’s all.”

And with that, the phone clicked off. Courtney sighed, sagging against the banister before continuing on her way. Luckily, she hadn’t climbed too many flights, so she could still catch the elevator before she turned entirely into a sweaty, disheveled mess.

***

Violet heard her phone vibrate, and she looked down on the floor, her bag carefully placed under her desk. She abandoned her computer, several tabs with pictures from past Met balls open, and reached for her phone, messages from Sutan ticking in.

SUTAN: Any thoughts on dinner?

SUTAN: I could go for italian

SUTAN: I know a place that has a great fettuccine al salmone that I think you’ll like

Violet read the messages, a smile on her lips. Sutan was probably stuck in traffic or watching a presentation somewhere, her boyfriend often texting her like this when he was bored.

VIOLET: That sounds good

SUTAN: Great! I’ll order. Bottle of red too.

SUTAN: Feeling like dessert? Raja texted that she’s picking up Dominique Ansel for her and Raven and I’m jealous. The Italian place has a fantastic torta tenerina

SUTAN: It’s a chocolate cake if you haven’t had it

SUTAN: It’ll be just like our second date ;-)

Violet felt an instant blush rise in her cheeks, the memory of falling off the couch hitting her like a freight train. Sutan had been so kind about it, the man just laughing when Violet had messed everything up. She knew she was insanely lucky that Sutan was so calm and collected, that he rolled with the punches and took most things with a grain of salt, but she couldn’t help but worry if he was too relaxed.

Violet had meant to push it aside, to stop thinking about it, but Maxwell’s words from yesterday were still playing around in her head, the small comment about her sex life with Sutan starting an avalanche of worries.

Because Maxwell was wrong.

Violet did not, in fact, suck Sutan’s dick. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, wasn’t that she found it gross or unappealing, it had just never… happened.

She didn’t know how she’d bring it up, what she’d say or what she’d do, but she knew that she wanted to talk to Sutan about it, and make sure that everything was okay.

VIOLET: Can’t wait

***

“Hey, Court, how are you?” Jaida asked, entering the conference room, holding up a flash drive with their investor presentation.

“Jaida! Oh thank god, is that the final?” Courtney asked, shifting from one foot to the other. She stood next to Shawn from IT, who was crouched over the projector.

“It is, it is...at least until Miss Fame texts me with another round of helpful suggestions,” Jaida said with a grin, and Courtney closed her eyes briefly.

“Don’t even joke about that,” she warned.

Jaida handed over the flash drive, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Poor thing looked very much on the edge, her little face screwed up anxiously, a crease in her brow where no one her age should have one.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. And I’m gonna stay here with you until it looks perfect.”

“Thank you,” Courtney said, her face softening into a grateful smile. “I know how to handle all the refreshments and stuff, but we don’t usually do these kind of multimedia things. I’m so worried that I’m gonna mess it up.”

“You won’t. And anyway, I’ll be right here. I can always tell you to go back a slide.”

“Right...yeah, that’s true.”

“How’s that look?” Shawn asked, and Jaida gave him a thumbs-up.

“Perfecto. Thank you, sir.”

“Alright, great. Court, you need anything else? ‘Cause apparently marketing is having some kind of emergency with their calendars not synching.”

“No, I think I got it,” Courtney said, sounding not at all confident.

“We got it,” Jaida said, sitting down beside her to look at the laptop that controlled the screen. “Why don’t I give you a basic rundown of what I’m gonna say, and then we can even do some rehearsing.”

“Sure!” Courtney said, smiling brightly.

Jaida took her through the whole presentation, then stood up to do a run-through, making sure they worked out a signal for when she was moving to the next slide, and double-checking the investor packets to make sure all the references to page numbers were accurate.

“Alright...I think we’re good. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Courtney said, standing and walking towards the refreshment table, lining all the drinks up in neat pyramids. “You can take a break, I’m sorry to have kept you so long.”

“It’s no problem,” Jaida said. “But I could use a little breather before they arrive. I’ll be back in 30.”

“Okay. Um, also…”

Jaida turned in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Well...it’s just...um, some people were talking about their bonuses, and my last paycheck was just my regular salary. So I just wasn’t sure how that all worked.”

“Oh.” Jaida sighed to herself. Of course Miss Fame hadn’t filled her in. Dammit. “Well, usually we only give end of year bonuses to people who’ve worked for the company for six months or longer.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, sorry.” Courtney said, looking disappointed but not surprised, and Jaida felt awful.

Courtney’s salary was a pittance--barely enough to be off the street in New York. Jaida knew that, and she knew how much of a difference even a few hundred dollars would have made to her. But Miss Fame had insisted that the rules were there for a reason, and it would be a bad precedent to set to overrule them for her own office. It was pure nonsense--all employee bonuses were at the discretion of the department heads and always had been.

Clearly, Miss Fame had simply not wanted to reward her for whatever reason. At the time, Jaida didn’t think it was worth the headache to push back, but looking at her sad little face, Jaida couldn’t help feeling like maybe she should have.

“But hey,” Jaida said, giving a rueful smile, “It gives you someone to look forward to next year, right?”

“Yeah.” Courtney returned her smile, trying her best to recover. “Sorry to bother you about it.”

“It’s no bother. I’m sorry I didn’t have a better answer for you,” Jaida told her, guilt still eating away at her. “I’ll see you at 3, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Jaida.”

***

“And there we go!” Raven looked up from her phone, Juju standing behind her, a big smile on her face. “What do we think?”

Juju held up a mirror, showing Raven the back of her head. She had gotten a keratin treatment, her thick black locks cascading down her back like a silky waterfall, the ends cut ramrod straight, her December touchups going exactly according to plan.

“It looks great,” Raven smiled, running her fingers through her hair, the strands beyond soft to the touch. She always got her hair done by Juju, Raven’s salon visits an excellent opportunity to chat with her best friend without kids around. “Good job.”

“Thanks,” Juju smiled. “I’ll have someone over shortly to fill up your lashes. Can I get you anything?”

“A Pellegrino please.” Raven held up her glass, Juju leaving her to stay in her chair. She didn’t really want the water, a caramel macchiato or a hot cocoa much more weather appropriate, but she had already had her first fitting for Galactica’s closing look, which meant she had to stay true to that size.

Raven looked at herself in her mirror, turning her head side to side, her brows already threaded and perfect. She hadn’t told Sutan, or even Raja, but she had started to get the tiniest botox injections, her day starting off with a visit to the doctor. It was just 5 units here, another 10 there, to make sure her glabellar lines didn’t show up and that her nasalis lines stayed on the side of cute, instead of wrinkly and gross.

Raven pulled some of her hair over her shoulder, twisting her waist to catch the best lighting as she held up her phone, snapping a pic for her Instagram, a grin spreading on her lips at how hot she looked.

***

Courtney flexed her fingers and toes, trying to keep them from going numb. Her brain already felt like mush. They were going into hour three of the investor meeting. At first, she’d found it incredibly interesting, how the new fund they were raising would help with their 2015 growth, allowing them to expand into several Asian markets and open up a whole new stream of revenue. She’d taken a few business classes in college, and while math was never her strong suit, the financial charts and projections were fascinating.

However, after several hours of this, coupled with the fact that she’d been working since 6 am, and the fact that nearly everyone else in the entire company had already left to start their winter vacations, Courtney was slowly losing her interest in, not just the meeting, but the fashion industry period.

She glanced out the window. A flurry of snow was swirling past the window--it would probably melt before it reached the ground, but it made her long to be tucked under a blanket with Bianca. She picked up her personal phone to discreetly check the messages.

BIANCA: Still getting out early?

COURTNEY: We’ll see. :’(

BIANCA: LOL, poor baby. I’m heading home now, tell me when you’re done there.

COURTNEY: I will. Can’t wait to see you...counting the seconds...<3

Courtney sighed softly to herself. The drone of voices was starting to sound surreal to her, like she was under water. She checked the time again, wishing that they would wrap things up. By the sound of it, though, no one was in any hurry to leave. Maybe I’ll die here…

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts and she stood up straight, back against the wall.

“Yes Miss?”

The fury in Miss Fame’s eyes told her that she’d missed a cue, and she racked her brain for what it could have been. They were done with the presentation, and she’d laid all the refreshments out, as well as clearing the empty plates and replacing them with clean ones twice already.

Miss Fame glared at her harder, eyes darting to the box near her feet, and she jumped, realizing her mistake. Miss Fame wanted her to hand out the glossy photo books of the history of Galactica that were on standby, just in case. She reached down and pulled a big stack out of the box, then quickly began handing them out.

“If you’ll open your books,” Fame said, going back to the meeting with a charming smile, “You’ll see some photos of our humble beginnings at New York Fashion week, 2002.”

I will definitely die here, Courtney thought, trudging back towards her spot against the wall.

***

Winter break was here, and Katya absolutely loved it. She had slept in, enjoying a slow morning making pancakes in her pajamas, listening to Christmas music and dancing around, since she was completely alone.

Well, not completely, at least not anymore. She couldn’t feel the baby yet, and probably wouldn’t for a few more weeks, the app Trixie had downloaded informing her that she should be able to sense movement from week 20.

Katya took a sip of her hot cocoa, a Hallmark Christmas movie playing on the TV. She had cleaned up the apartment, making sure to get all of the laundry out of the way so everything was nice and tidy for the upcoming vacation.

She picked Pearl’s bomber jacket back up, the scent of her cigarettes clinging to the fabric. She had noticed that there was a tear while checking it, Pearl often forgetting the most random things in her pockets, so she had taken it upon herself to sew it back together.

She knew she didn't need to, but she liked doing things for her friend, the small project perfect for a relaxing day with nothing important on the agenda.

***

“Raja!” Raven couldn’t keep in the shout of happiness as she finally finally heard the front door open and click shut. She rushed to the hallway, making sure not to trip over her dress in her heels. “You’re home!”

“Hey Princess,” Raja smiled, taking off her coat, specks of snow in her long hair, revealing one of her office suits underneath. “You look perfect.”

“Mmh?” Raven grinned, her fiancée’s eyes sweeping over her body, appreciating the brand new outfit she had put on. “You think?”

“I know,” Raja hung her jacket up, and Raven stepped up, wrapping herself in Raja’s arms, a moment of complete peace washing over her.

Raja was home for the holidays, almost two wonderful weeks ahead of them with no work, minimal obligations and parties except New Year’s, all followed by their annual trip to Aspen.

It was Raven’s favorite time of year, for the simple reason that she had Raja’s undivided attention, and that was why she had picked New Year’s Eve as their wedding date. It was a little stressful that she only had about a year left to plan, but she knew that the night would be perfect, no matter what.

“Did you remember dessert?” Raven looked up at Raja, the fact that she was still taller than her even in heels insanely hot.

“Of course I remembered dessert,” Raja grinned, the Dominique Ansel box on the little hallway table, “I got your favorites.”

“I love you,” Raven smiled, getting up on her toes to plant a kiss on Raja’s lips.

“Are you talking to me or the pastries?”

“You,” Raven rolled her eyes, Raja as always teasing her, “...and the pastries.”

***

“So, what are we in the mood for?” Sutan asked. He sat down on the couch, placing the chocolate cake and the two forks on the table before grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “A Christmas movie?”

He waited for a beat, and then another, no reply coming.

It was normal for Violet to be on the quiet side, common for her to come home from work and need time to unwind and reset before she could be present, his girlfriend not saying much during dinner.

What wasn’t normal was for Violet to ignore him outright, and Sutan couldn’t help but feel worried.

“Violet?” He sat up, looking over at her. She was tapping her fingers against her leg, looking straight ahead, her lip between her teeth. “Is everything okay?”

“Does it bother you that I don’t suck dick?”

“What?” Sutan spluttered, nearly choking on air, the question taking him by complete surprise.

“Does it bother you?” Violet twisted her body, her knees knocking against his as she turned towards him.

“Why are you asking?” Sutan knew it wasn’t what he should focus on, but he hadn’t expected Violet to ask that, hadn’t figured that a sex thing was what had twisted her into a knot, though the direct and blunt approach was exactly her.

“Answer my question.”

“I’m very satisfied with our sex life.” Sutan turned the TV off, commercials in the background not what he needed at the moment. “So no. It doesn’t bother me.” He was being completely sincere, the lack of Violet performing oral not something he had thought about except in brief fantasies here and there.

But it was just that, a fantasy.

A tantalizing and sexy fantasy for sure, but when it came down to it, not getting blow jobs was a miniscule price to pay in exchange for Violet, Sutan much more concerned with making sure that his girlfriend was having a good time, and that she was into what they did in bed.

“I simply assumed you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Okay.” Violet bit her lip, and Sutan moved closer, putting his arm on the back of the couch.

“Why are you asking? Is everything okay?”

“Maxwell made a comment at work.” Violet pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking at Sutan’s chest instead of his face.

“And?” Sutan reached out, gently putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I just figured, I never really…” Violet sighed, tugging at the edge of her skirt, Sutan rubbing his thumb up and down. “Offered, and I hadn’t considered…”

“Violet. Good sex, is sex that makes everyone feel good, and I like, no, I love, making you feel good.” Sutan smirked, watching the prettiest blush bloom on Violet’s cheeks, but this time, she didn’t shy away, didn’t look down, instead, she met his gaze straight on, their eyes locking together.

“I want that too. To make you feel good.”

“Is this your way of offering?” Sutan raised an eyebrow, “To experiment with blow jobs I mean.”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “I think I could enjoy it with you.”

“If you want it,” Sutan smiled. “I want it.”

***

As Courtney helped Miss Fame into her coat, she could feel her will to live come surging back, the end of the day so close now that she could taste it. She’d already brought the many gifts from Miss Fame’s friends and associates downstairs to her car and in a remarkable display of generosity, Miss Fame had even handed Courtney one of the bottles of Veuve to take home herself.

“Merry Christmas, Miss!” Courtney exclaimed happily as she settled back down at her desk to take care of her last few tasks of the year.

“Yes. Make sure that those sketches get to Trixie before you leave. Goodnight.”

“Sure thing!” Courtney called after her, waving as she rounded the corner. The sketches. She knew she had the sketches earlier. Where were they?

She searched the mostly empty surface of her desk, stomach lurching when she realized what must have happened. The cab. She left them in the cab. Her sunny smile dissolved, color draining from Courtney’s face as she realized how absolutely fucked she was.

Miss Fame almost never did her own sketches any more. These were rare and precious; Courtney recalled how angry she’d been earlier in the day at simply the thought of a crease in the pages.

How could Courtney have been so utterly careless?

Original sketches from Miss Fame of Galactica floating around a random NYC taxi was a nightmare. She wracked her brain, trying to remember the cab company, and found her head absolutely empty of any details, devoid of anything that could help.

And of course, she didn’t have a receipt, because she’d been in such a rush to get upstairs, which meant no evidence, nothing to go off of.

She frantically searched for the numbers of any local cab companies and began the tedious task of calling them to track down the priceless unmarked envelope.

Nearly two hours later, throat hoarse from crying, she had to finally admit defeat.

Nobody had seen the envelope, and the chance of her getting a call back with good news was looking slimmer and slimmer as the dispatches closed for the day. She picked up her phone, knowing that she’d be seeing a whole bunch of increasingly concerned messages from Bianca.

There was no way she could face her tonight. Not after she’d fucked up so immensely, done something that was sure to make her boss more furious than she’d ever seen her. There was a small chance that Bianca herself wouldn’t be mad, that she might even be sympathetic--but Courtney knew that she absolutely didn’t deserve that.

Just to be certain, she waited until she was on the subway before responding to her messages, texting a simple ‘I can’t make it’ and then adding ‘I’m so sorry’ before shoving the phone back in her bag and riding the rest of the way to the Bronx with her head in her hands, cursing herself over and over.

[mermaidcashton]

i hate to admit it

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship: michael clifford/reader prompt/AU: this is a gift for the wonderful @h0tsos who wanted soft, subby Michael in an enemies to lovers capacity (and i snuck some coffee shop!au in there as well, and some weebness because, well, it’s Steff and Michael) wordcount: 4k+ warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, explicit sexual content a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (which was a gift exchange this time around) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘this means war’ by mariana’s trench • ‘my hero academia’ is a manga/anime series. there are references to it and a few of the characters in this but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand what’s going on.

i hate to admit it *** “So, they’re like...superheroes?” 

Luke sipped on his glass of rosé, nodding like he understood whilst making a face that showed he absolutely did not.

“Yeah, dude, pretty much!” Michael nodded along with your co-worker with so much enthusiasm he looked like one of those dogs people put on their dashboards. Except less cute. Wait, no - not cute. Definitely not cute at all. Good save, you. Couldn’t have your own internal monologue thinking you felt anything for the moron you were forced to work with 3 times a week was anything more than an annoyance you had to endure. With a butt that wouldn’t quit. Dammit, self! 

Michael took advantage of Luke showing an interest in his (and yours) favourite anime, and began bombarding him with half baked theories, predictable favourite scenes and shitty character analysis. He nearly knocked his own hat off as he flailed his hands around in an attempt at explaining the dynamics of a battle from the second season. Luke smiled politely. 

You snorted into your drink as you drained the last of it; you were definitely going to need another. If Michael started fanboying over Deku again, you were going to scream.

As you placed the empty bottle onto the wood of the coffee table, you took another glance around the apartment you were in. You’d never been up here before, despite spending a minimum of 20 hours a week in the coffee shop downstairs. But after this evening’s staff meeting tackling such issues as ‘who forgot that milk needs to be kept in the fridge overnight’ (Luke), ‘who is putting too much whipped cream on hot chocolates’ (Michael), and ‘who wrote ‘THIS COFFEE IS HOT, BUT U R HOTTER ❤ ) on a customers caramel macchiato’ (Luke again), Ashton had invited you all upstairs for a ‘employee chill’. You had been surprised a week or so into your employment when you had found out that the manager was also the owner who lived in the apartment above Screamin’ Beans; he was only in his mid twenties, but the more you’d experienced his drive and determination, the more your surprise had dwindled. Ashton really was a great guy, with one big flaw; Michael. They had been best friends for years, hence him moving into the apartment when he came back into town and the job Ashton had given him; which in your humble opinion was the equivalent of setting a monkey loose on the milk frother.   

Michael had sealed his fate with you the same day he’d started work. He arrived 10 minutes late (from upstairs), sleepy eyed and shy smiled. His fluffy blonde hair was spilling out of his beanie, and he kept biting his very pink lip bottom with sharp little teeth. The way he pronounced your name was adorable. You’d burned your hand on the espresso machine. Strike one. Things unravelled quickly after that. He was ‘too shy’ to take orders and work the register so you were stuck there all day talking to goddamn customers about why it wasn’t a good idea to have 3 pumps of every syrup while he hid behind silver machinery and dirtied way more jugs than you deemed necessary. Strike two. And then he’d dropped a latté into that ladies bag - sorry, very expensive bag. Michael had let out a ‘uuuhhh’ sound like a malfunctioning robot without moving for so long that the furious customer had stopped trying to yell at him and focused her rage on you instead. When he had eventually come to whatever passed for his senses, Michael had power walked into the employee bathroom and didn’t return until Calum arrived to join the shift and assured him the woman had left, twenty minute later. You were beyond strikes. You’d been so sure you could talk Ashton into scheduling you together as little as possible. There was no reason to put you down to work nearly every shift together, especially shifts where only two staff were on! Except, apparently there was because he kept fucking doing it. Every time you pressed Ashton on it, he’d say something about how he needed Michael ‘trained by the best’, or ‘matching availabilities’, or he thought their ‘energies combined well; auras are meshing, y’know?’ The one might have been on you for catching him as he was returning from his Vibe Check Yoga class at the studio down the street. 

He’d also emphasised that Michael needed more friends now he was back in the city, and you two had loads in common! You both liked pop punk! You’d rolled your eyes. And Italian food! A ‘tch noise. And anime! Okay, you’d bite. 

The next time you’d gone into work, you’d engaged Michael in a conversation about ‘Tokyo Ghoul’ and recommended ‘Demon Slayer’; things started to pick up. You didn’t fantasise about locking Michael in the walk-in fridge the whole shift. And then…

“You watch ‘My Hero Academia’, right?” “Uh, yeah! I love it.” “Me too! I just ordered a Todoroki tee yesterday. And another Deku one, of course; gotta rep my main man!” “Oh..cool! He’s your favourite?” Of course Michael was a basic bitch. But hey, that’s fine. Deku was fine. He was the main character, after all. And he’s a little less whiny in the recent manga issues, you guess. And the way Michael’s face was right now - open, comfortable, lit up like the 4th of July? That was good, too. His eyes were so green.  “Yeah! Who’s your favourite character?” “Well, I would die for a bunch of ‘em, but I’m a Bakugou girl at heart.” You laid a palm flat on your chest, choosing to ignore the feel of your heart beating faster than it had been five minutes ago beneath it.  Michael wrinkled his nose. “Bakugou? But he’s like...he’s so mean! And angry!”

Oh no. You’d had this conversation before. You locked eyes with Michael, hoping he could see the warning in your eyes. Don’t do it, ho.

“Like, he’d probably make a better villain than hero!”

“You okay, boo?” Calum slid into the space on the couch beside you, holding out a fresh beer for you to take. “You look deep in thought.”

You hummed and accepted the bottle from him, letting go of your train of thought as you caught sight of Luke trying to prove he could get his overly long leg behind his head. Michael and Ashley F. were both actively trying to avoid getting kicked in the face with a sparkly boot, whilst Ashton was just monitoring the situation very intently; you’re not entirely sure when he last blinked. 

You snorted again as Luke’s foot slotted into place in a position you were 85% sure he would not be able to get out of again without assistance, possibly from the emergency services.

“I’m fine. Gotta be one of us capable of thinking here, y’know.” You teased, looking sidelong at Calum. He laughed, rubbing a hand over his freshly shaved hair; he’d always been as easy to get along with as he was obnoxiously handsome. “Hey! You’re lucky I know you’re talking about the human pretzel over there! And I guess, your boyf-” Big brown eyes glittered at you over the hand you’d slapped over his mouth. “-fwendth.” Narrowing your own eyes at your friend, you hissed. “Shut up! I would rather die.” Calum waggled his eyebrows incessantly at you until you relented and dropped your hand. “You knew who I was talking about, though.” Ugh. Smug was not a good look on Calum. “You know, smug is not a good lo-oh fuck, is that the time?” The clock behind Calum’s head showed 8:58; your auction ended at 9:00. You fumbled into your bag for your phone, unlocking it and flicking straight to the app you needed. Phew - still the top bid. “Whatcha doin’?” Calum hooked his chin over your shoulder, blowing your hair out of his face before settling down. 

“Bidded on a really cool, limited edition figure. One of my all time favourite anime characters. The auction is about to end.” You explained,  making sure Calum could hear you other the cacophony of sounds associated with Luke trying to get his other leg behind his head. You both watched the seconds tick down, your username sitting securely by the words ‘Winning Bid’. At two seconds to nine, the page refreshed, then refreshed again; it was over.

‘Winning Bid: BIGRED69’ “Uh...what happened? That’s not you, right?” Calum asked, tilting his head to look at your face, and the rage it contained. BIGRED69. He’d done it again. 

“Uh oh, Y/N - what’s wrong?” Ashton’s voice pulled you out of your internal screaming, and you looked up at him. 

“She’s losing her weeb shit at a heavy eBay loss” Calum answered for you, nodding solemnly as he pulled away from you, giving you room to bonk him with a cushion. “Oh! That’s too bad, but that’s another thing you and Mikey have in common!” Ashton beamed. “Mikey!” Oh no. Oh no, no.

“Yeah?” Michael sloped over, getting his black boot caught on the corner of the leopard print rug as he did. Ashton caught him with an ease you suspected (knew) came from practice. “Why don’t you take Y/N to see your anime dolls? She collects them, too!” Ashton looked so pleased with himself and his suggestion for further ‘bonding’ for you and Michael, and Michael looked like he’d been force fed raw lemon at the phrase ‘anime dolls’, so you let it go on your own behalf. Except now Michael was waiting expectantly for you to follow him to his room and Calum was shoving you off of the couch to get you moving. Fuck your life. You sighed as you got up and started walking. “Fine, let’s go; you can show me your Todoroki body pillow and then we can get on with our lives.” Michael let out a small hiss like an angry kitten, his cheeks colouring a pretty pink. He spared a glance at everyone left in your wake. “I, um, don’t have a body pillow, you guys.” “Suuuuure!” You rolled your eyes, waiting for Michael to enter his bedroom so you could follow. The blonde flicked the light on and moved slightly further in so you could pass him, before shutting the door with a small ‘click’. You decided not to comment on this action, looking around at the posters on the walls and figurines on the shelves instead. You were undecided on whether or not you were going to comment on how cool a lot of Michael’s shit was. A ‘Full Metal Alchemist’ poster over his bed, a full shelf of Funko Pops from movies you loved, framed prints of album artwork by Waterparks and The Maine. Fuck. You were really aware of Michael staring at you with an almost hopeful (?) look on his face as you let your eyes travel around his room before he could show you his ‘anime dolls’. Fuck. Your stomach felt fluttery, and you thought you might have a serious problem here, before you caught sight of a very different problem on Michael’s desk. 

A rare Kirishima Eijirou statue - box signed by the voice actor - you’d been outbid on last month. By BIGRED69. What were the chances a different one was sitting by Michael’s laptop?

“So,” You said, trying to keep your voice neutral and non-murderous. “Where do you get your collectibles from?” “Forbidden Planet, Tokyo Toys, eBay…” Michael rattled off, until you interrupted him. “Where did you get that one? Looks rare - it must have been difficult!” 

“Oh! eBay! It was, but I have an app for it, so…” Michael grinned, looking pleased with himself. An app? “An automatic bidding app? You sniped me?! That’s cheating!” You squeaked; you could not believe this. It was unbelievable.

Michael blinked at you, head empty. “BIGRED69?!” You managed to make the world’s stupidest screen name sound like a terrible accusation. Which it was.

Comprehension dawned on his stupid, beautiful face all at once. “Oh my God! That was you that I’ve been fighting for this stuff? No way! But you didn’t know it was me?”

“Why the hell would I know it was you!” You threw your hands up, and Michael just stared dopily back at you.

“‘Bigred69?! Obviously I assumed you were 12!” Michael let out a squawk of protest, before folding his arms defensively across his chest.

“Clifford!” “What?” Michael’s tone became more insistent. “My last name! Clifford!” You pulled an exaggerated ‘so?!’ face, throwing your hand in the air again. 

Michael had the unmitigated gall to huff, like you were the biggest idiot in the room; like he wasn’t always the biggest idiot in every room, all rooms, ever, in the history of rooms. “Clifford the Big Red Dog!” He said, insistence heavy in the words.

You often swore you could almost hear the old internet dial up tone trilling inside Michael’s brain when customers at the coffee shop asked him such difficult questions as “What dairy alternative milks do you carry?”, “Where is the bathroom?”, and even once - you swear - “What’s your name?”. In Michael’s defence, that last one had been asked in more flirtatious-than-not tone by a brunette who clearly had some kind of vision problem (he’d been dressed more horrendously than usual that day beneath his uniform apron; was that a utility vest?!), but had fluttered her eyelashes at your idiot colleague so hard, for so long, you’d been concerned she’d be leaving without what little vision she’d arrived with. But still. Idiot. Michael, not you. And yet, now it was you with your brain puttering through the information you had with the shrill electronic sound of the 90’s in your head. “Clifford the- are you for fucking real?” This could not be real life.

“It’s totally clever!” Michael asserted, continuing in earnest once you scoffed in reply. “No, listen! Because of Clifford, and also, I had red hair when I made it, and 69 is funny - it is! - and, well-” His face flushed slightly before he puffed his chest out a little, apparently deciding to commit to his defence of his screen name. “I’m big, so it works on like, loads of levels!” 

This could not be happening to you. You were decidedly not standing in the bedroom of a coworker you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also couldn’t stop thinking about kissing as you restocked the counter fridges in the evenings, as he explained that his auction site handle was a combination of a previous dye job, an insinuation about his dick and a massive fucking dog. You could not let Michael have the upper hand here, but you were floundering. So you fell into more familiar, more pathetic territory. 

“If you were called something like ‘deku-loving-loser’, then, sure - I would have known it was you!” “Who’s 12 now?!” “Uh, still you!” Okay, so this wasn’t your finest moment, but you were in it now. And you’d really wanted the Kaminari figure tonight. Michael didn’t even like him that much!

“The point is, you totally sniped me! And you get stuff about basic canon wrong! And your understanding of the characters is one dimensional! And, and...your hat is stupid!” Well, shit. In your defence, Michael’s hat was stupid. You could feel how hot your face was, and Michael’s eyes looking right at it was only making it worse. You couldn’t read his expression at all; he looked like he was searching for something, and you didn’t know what it was, or if he’d find it. You could only assume he had when he took the most decisive steps you’d ever seen him take, reaching you in two huge steps and cupping your face with both hands. Michael kissed in a way he didn’t do anything else; he felt sure and certain as he pressed his lips to yours, moving them with intent. Your brain became overtaken with television static almost immediately as you moved your mouth in time with his, opening your mouth immediately at the questioning press of his tongue. You had enough of yourself left aware to yank his stupid fucking hat off his head as you tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, Michael’s hands sliding down to clutch at your waist as you swayed with the kiss. As Michael pulled back ever so slightly, you took the opportunity to press your teeth into his plush bottom lip, the way you’d thought of doing in afternoon slumps on shift. The whine that came from deep in Michael’s throat made a split second decision for you. 

You pulled back further from Michael, yanking your top off in one go and starting in on the buttons of his black shirt before he fully registered the sight of your bra and the top of your full breasts.  

“Shit, Y/N, are you…” Michael trailed off as you pulled his sleeves down his arms, and the shirt off this body. Your eyes met his as you popped the button on his black jeans and placed your hand on his zipper. “Do you really want me to overthink this, Michael?” A moment’s pause, then he shook his head vigorously, leaning down to pull his boots off once you’d yanked his jeans to his knees. By the time he was left in his (funnily enough, black) boxer briefs, you’d discarded your own jeans and were knelt at the foot of his bed in your soft, lilac underwear. Michael’s breath hitched as his gaze drifted down your body, taking it all in under the artificial light of the room. “Get over here, Clifford…” You teased, trying not to second guess what was happening. Michael broke out of his trance and more or less threw himself onto the bed, settling his head on the pillows and pulling you on top of him for another kiss, and then another, and another. By the time you pulled back to catch your breath, your head was spinning. You braced yourself on your forearms on the bed, taking the time to admire Michael’s body beneath you. 

You’d seen the tattoos on his pale, strong arms before, but they looked different in this context; the contrast between the milky skin and dark ink made your stomach swoop. The blonde hair on his head is also a contradiction; to the dark hair on his chest and the hair trailing down his stomach and disappearing under his waistband. Your mouth felt very dry as you let your gaze continue downward, to the straining bulge beneath the fabric.

You flicked your eyes back to meet Michael’s in question, your fingers suddenly resting on the waistband of his underwear. Michael swallowed thickly, and then nodded once before fixing you with a gaze of pure anticipation. 

No use waiting around. You propped yourself up onto your knees over him and pulled on the fabric decisively, not stopping your motion until his underwear bunched up at his ankles. Holy shit.

You always knew Michael had to have at least one redeeming quality, and you’d finally found it. His cock was huge, hanging heavy and hard between his fuzzy thighs. The head was flushed the darkest pink you could ever remember seeing, and the slit was already shiny with precum. 

If a voice in your head that sounded unfortunately like Calum pressed that Michael had lots of qualities you secretly found redeeming, you ignored it in favour of getting straight to business.

“FUCK! FUCKIN-” 

Apparently, Michael hadn’t been prepared for you to take half of his impressive length into your mouth in one go. You sucked with intent, casting your eyes up to take in the sight of him. His pupils were already starting to blow, and you’d barely done anything. God, that was so sweet.

But then Michael threaded his fingers through your hair, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your scalp. The blonde wasn’t pushing down, but his grip was firm. You could feel the weight of his hand on the top of your head as you held his cock in your mouth, and that shit? Would not stand.

You grab the wrist brushing your hair a second before your other hand finds his idle one, fingers twisted loosely in the sheets. Once you’ve captured both wrists, you guide both to the same point above Michael’s hips, before slamming both into the mattress with purpose. 

If you’d had time to think about it, you’re not sure how you would have expected Michael to react. He didn’t really put out the energy of a man who’d properly fight you for control, either in a domineering way or with more of an air of fragile masculinity. Perhaps a bit of questioning but ultimately compliant as long as he got his dick sucked. But the wanton moan that kicked out of Michael’s chest as you settled into a tight grip on his wrists where you had them pinned on the sheets with intent? That was unexpected. That was interesting.   

Your mouth had remained still on his cock whilst you got his wrists pinned down, more cockwarming him than blowing him. But now you had him so pliant and under your control, it was go time. You pulled back up his cock, wrapping your lips tightly around the head of Michael’s cock, and sucked with gusto. Another groan from above you. You worked your tongue all the way around the head before pulling back enough to flick it into Michael’s sensitive slit. “Oh my fuuu- Y/N, God, I-” Michael was starting to writhe, his hairy legs rubbing into the sheets beneath you. You could feel his wrists moving along with the rest of his body, but you knew you’d made it clear you’d wanted him pinned, and he made no move to get his hand free. Good boy. You sank steadily back down Michael’s length, at least to the six inch mark, before pulling back up, hollowing your cheeks as you went. Back down a little further, then up, back to teasing the head, using your tongue. Michael couldn’t predict what you were going to do next, and it was clearly pushing all of his buttons. You could taste the precum that his cock kept kicking out into your mouth and throat, and see the flush spreading down his neck. By the time you’d pulled, drool beginning to build at the sides of your mouth, Michael was a mess, moaning as much as he was breathing. This could get addictive, you thought to yourself as you let your mouth drop to his balls, and your thumbs press into the pulse points on his wrists. You hummed before you released his left ball from your mouth with a wet pop, and that’s when Michael started begging. “Please, please, Y/N, I wanna-” he panted, cutting himself off over and over. “You’re so beautiful, lemme- God, fuck, it feels so amazing, you’re- I’ve been good, I’ll do anything, please…”

You pretend to consider his pleas as you dragged your tongue over his right ball, dipping into all the creases and leaving them wet behind you. Drawing back up onto your knees, you released one of his wrists so you could push his sweaty blonde bangs back from where it was plastered to his forehead, drinking in the vision before you. His green eyes were nearly completely black, blown out with arousal. The sheen on the skin of his face and body made him glow. His lips were chapped from his teeth tugging on them, and the pink of the matched the flush spread from his cheeks down his chest. And the wrist you were no longer restraining hadn’t moved a centimeter, still pressed firmly to the mattress. Michael was a good boy. And you knew how to treat good boys. With no preamble, you took Michael back into the wet heat of your mouth, relaxing your throat and not stopping until your nose was buried in the soft thatch of trimmed hair on his crotch. You took a moment to situate yourself and enjoy the deep whines bursting out of Michael’s throat into the quiet of his bedroom, before you began to move again, swallowing around his cock. You saw his thighs begin to tremble to the side of you before you heard him speak. “Fuck, fuck, Y/N, please, I’m gonna-” You hummed as hard as you could, pushing Michael’s wrists with that little bit more force into the bed as you did. Michael let out his loudest whine yet - bordering on a sob- as he came, shooting down your throat as he writhed beneath you. 

You swallowed everything he gave you, and when you were sure he was finished, you pulled off slowly, and gently, releasing his wrists as you stood back up on your knees.

Michael looked blissed out, staring dreamily up at you with bright, adoring eyes. He still was yet to move his hands. “Hey.” “Hi.” You smirked down at him. “I believe I heard something about you’d ‘do anything’?” You shot a quick glance at the figurine on his desk, and down at yourself. “I had some ideas…” 

collab masterlist • my masterlist

[pepethehobbit]

Wish you were here - Notting Hill AU

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 is here, I hope you enjoy! Also on AO3.

Jens hasn’t told Sander who came into the shop yesterday. It sounded too surreal, even to himself. He still needs to process this because it does not happen everyday that your celebrity crush just so happens to walk into your own niche record shop. Another reason for not telling him was that he kind of wanted to keep this memory and Lucas for himself, as ridiculous as it sounds. Because nothing really happened but at the same time Jens can’t shake the feeling that they had a moment. Also, their laughter felt so easy and Jens still has to smile at what Lucas wrote for the ridiculous guy from yesterday.

It’s currently half past ten in the morning and Jens is on his way to open up the shop, but not before stopping at his favorite coffee shop for a tall caramel macchiato. He has a sweet tooth and his daily coffee with too much syrup is something that he is not willing to give up. Leaving the coffee shop with his overload of sugar in one hand he scrambles for his keys to his shop with the other. While he walks he looks down on himself confused because he can’t find the keys in his pocket. Next thing he knows he collides with someone wearing a pink sweater, his coffee is on the floor and all over the other person’s clothes. His first reaction is annoyance, because honestly… his coffee. He hadn’t even had the chance to take one sip of it. The second one is guilt because he probably just ruined this person’s day and the third one is shock once he finally looks up to see who he spilled his coffee on.

Lucas van der Heijden looks down at his coffee stained sweater and then flicks his gaze up at Jens, annoyed at first but then hesitantly smiling. Now Jens is even more in shock, because who smiles at the person who just spilled hot coffee on them, like he is happy to see him. Still, it’s enough for him to finally say something.

“Fuck, sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t have any tissues, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Jens. I feel bad though, what about your coffee?”

Everything seems to freeze inside of Jens’ mind. Lucas van der Heijden remembered his name. My name. He knows my name. Jens is in no state to answer Lucas’ question right now, still too baffled that he remembered his name from their short conversation yesterday. He is only capable of looking at Lucas with something closely resembling awe and utter disbelief.

Lucas raises one brow and looks kind of amused. “Jens?”

He snaps out of it and finally stutters his answer. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It was my fault. Didn’t look where I was going. Look, I feel really bad about your sweater. I live like three doors away, you can clean up and I’ll give you one of my sweaters.” As soon as he says it, he notices how weird that sounds. You can’t just run into mega celebrities and then invite them to your home, Jens what are you doing?

“I mean, you don’t have to of course. It was just a friendly offer, I swear, no ulterior motive. I mean you can’t possibly run around the whole day looking like this.” Jens realizes that this sounds even worse and did he just also kind of insulted Lucas? Honestly, where is his chill when he needs it the most. Apparently it’s flying out of the window when faced with his celebrity crush two days in a row. Before he can try and embarrass himself even further, Lucas saves him with an answer.

“Yeah, that would be nice. Three doors away, you said?”

“Yes! You see this blue door next to the tattoo shop? That’s me.” Jens puts his hands back into the front pockets of his jeans and nervously awaits Lucas’ answer. Lucas looks at him considering and then looks like he made a final decision. “Okay, lead the ways then,” he says with a smile. Quietly, Jens lets out the breath he had not realized he was holding and turns back to walk the fifty meters to his apartment.

The walk is silent and slightly unnerving. Jens is hyper aware of the fact that he is leading Lucas van der Heijden to his apartment and at the same time he can’t believe that this is really happening. It’s like he woke up in a parallel universe where he just randomly meets beautiful actors and they are fine with being invited into his home.

Standing in front of the door, he searches his keys again and finds them in the inner pocket of his jacket. He unlocks the door and turns around to make sure Lucas is actually still here. The door swings open and Jens steps aside to let Lucas enter first. Which is the exact moment he remembers that he doesn’t live alone because he hears his roommate’s voice loud and clear.

“Back so soon, Jens? Is the continuous stream of customers getting too much for you? You needed a break from all the work?” Jens is used to teasing remarks like that from Milan. They had the conversation often enough, the question why Jens keeps the shop when it only really costs him more money than it makes and when he doesn’t really need it anyway because he has a different job that gets him quite enough money. Today, Jens is only capable of rolling his eyes and ignoring Milan’s sarcasm, hopefully he will stay in his room then.

“Who is that?” Lucas asks him with a curious gaze after Jens has closed the door and ushered Lucas down the entrance hall which leads directly into the kitchen. Through there you can see the living room from where stairs lead up to Jens and Milan’s rooms with a bathroom they have to share.

“Oh, that is my very annoying roommate, Milan, he likes to make fun of my misery and is probably one of my best friends.”

Lucas looks relieved with that piece of information, but Jens is pretty sure he misinterprets that look.

“Oh okay, I thought that was your boyfriend or something.”

“What? No. Eww.” Jens realizes that this response could be interpreted as all kinds of wrong when he looks back to see the disappointed and almost angry expression on Lucas’ face. He is quick to add: “I mean, as I said. He is one of my best friends. It would be like kissing my brother, which is just… eww. Milan is actually one of the persons who helped me to accept that I’m bi when I was sixteen.”

He feels like this was maybe a bit oversharing but the last thing he wants Lucas to think is that Jens is homophobic. Also, he kinda wants him to know that Jens is a possibility even though he knows that this is a complete stupid thought, because never in a million years does Jens have a shot with someone as gorgeous as Lucas.

Lucas’ expression morphed into a one of relief and if Jens is daring to hope he thinks he saw a small smile spread across his face when he said that he was bi.

“How long have you been living together?” Lucas asks instead of acknowledging any of what Jens just said. Maybe that is better. Small talk is much less dangerous than talking about sexuality as their first real topic of conversation.

With a nod of his head he motions Lucas to follow him into the living room while he answers the question.

“Over a year now, more or less. Milan broke up with his boyfriend who moved out kind of immediately. Back then I was already living with Robbe and Sander for a month or so and when Milan offered me the other room I accepted instantly, because I couldn’t take being a third wheel anymore. Also it’s ridiculously close to my shop so that was convenient as well.”

Lucas looks only slightly more confused. Before he can ask the question that clearly lies on his tongue Jens remembers the reason why they are here when he looks down and seed the coffee stain on Lucas’ sweater.

“Oh shit. I should let you get cleaned up. You’re probably very busy. I’ll get a sweatshirt for you. Follow me, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

Lucas looks like he is actually about to protest but then looks down at himself, nods and begins to follow Jens upstairs. Once upstairs, Jens turns around again to tell Lucas to wait in the hall while he quickly grabs the clothes. He returns with a very basic gray hoodie and is glad that he had done the washing just two days ago.

“The bathroom is right there. I’ll wait downstairs.”

Lucas thanks him with a soft voice, enters the bathroom and Jens makes his way downstairs. Milan seems to have left his room even though Jens had ignored him and sits down next to Jens on the couch with a curious expression. “Who were you talking to?” Jens considers lying but as soon as Lucas leaves the bathroom and joins them in the living room Milan will know anyway.

“Okay. This is gonna sound crazy but I ran into Lucas van der Heijden with my coffee and I offered him one of my sweaters and that he could clean up here. He also came into my shop yesterday and bought a Pink Floyd record. When he comes down again please behave as natural as possible, I beg you. I already embarrassed myself enough for one day.”

Milan just stares. He doesn’t look like he believes Jens and who can blame him. Jens heard himself talk. Hell, he lived through it and still can’t really believe it.

“Okay… Are you seriously telling me that your Man Crush Monday and award winning actor Lucas van der Heijden is currently in our bathroom, probably shirtless?”

Jens tries hard not to blush at that but fails miserably considering the face Milan makes at him now. “Yes, I’m seriously telling you this. So before you can say anything that can embarrass me even further can you promise to behave, please?”

Milan rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner but holds up his pinkie to Jens and says: “Pinkie promise.” Jens tangles their little fingers together for a second before letting his hand fall back to his side.

Just then Lucas descends the steps and their heads turn around simultaneously. Jens breath catches when he sees Lucas in his own hoodie. He looks really comfortable and so so soft and somehow just completely right, as if Lucas was meant to wear Jens’ clothes. Lucas meets Jens' gaze and nervously tucks his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie, Jens’ hoodie. Jens is kind of overwhelmed right now until Milan tries to subtly clear his throat, which snaps Jens out of his open admiration for Lucas.

He stands up and walks over to Lucas’ side and says: “Uh yeah. Lucas. Meet my roommate, Milan. Milan, meet Lucas.” Milan gets up as well, stands in front of Lucas, stretches his hand out and seems to remain calm, keeping to his promise. Lucas takes the offered hand while Milan says: “A pleasure to meet you, Lucas. I hear you were victim to Jens spilling his coffee all over you. He usually isn’t such a klutz, maybe it was fate bringing you two together.”

Right. So much for keeping his promise. Jens groans in frustration and lets out an exasperated “Milaaaan!” But before he can say anything else he can hear Lucas laugh in response and he winks, he freaking winks at Jens and says: “Yeah, maybe it was.” Jens is speechless again. Lucas seems to have a talent of doing that. The only thing he is capable of is to continue looking at him with wonder and disbelief.

“Well, I believe my work here is done. If you could excuse me. It was great to meet you Lucas,” Milan says before he climbs the stairs to his room again. And just like that they are alone again. Jens doesn’t know what to say, it’s not like he has experience with his celebrity crushes flirting with him, so he says the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Can I offer you anything? Coffee, water, weed?” Jens cringes at the last word. Why is he so awkward today, but Lucas simply looks at him a bit baffled and lets out a small laugh.

“Well, weed is certainly tempting, Jens. But you were right, I kinda am pretty busy. I have to go now, maybe next time, yeah?” Lucas sounds genuinely disappointed but maybe that is just Jens’ wishful thinking. He also can’t help how his heart fluttered at the words next time.

“I’ll bring you to the door.”

Jens wants to say something before he opens the door for Lucas and for him to leave his life again but he can’t think of anything that would sound even remotely acceptable. With a “normal” person he my have asked for their number or asked if they could see each other again. But Lucas wasn’t a regular person. He was an internationally known actor, unbelievably beautiful and so out of Jens’ league. And even though it seemed like Lucas had flirted with him it was hard not to feel intimidated by these facts alone.

“Sorry for the weed. That was weird. I’m usually more chill.” Out of all the possibilities this is what he finally utters. Jens wants to kick himself for the hundredth time today but Lucas just huffs out another laugh and steps closer to Jens.

“Yeah, it was a little weird.” His voice sounds so soft, he takes another step towards Jens and leans in as if to kiss him. Jens sucks in a breath while Lucas raises his hand and places it softly on Jens’ face. He looks up at him under his lashes and only then does Jens notice the slight height difference. With his heart nearly jumping out of his chest he notices how Lucas gets up on his tiptoes and presses a light kiss on the corner of Jens’ mouth, as if he wanted to go for the cheek but just missing slightly.

“Thank you for the hoodie,” Lucas says as he leans away. He opens the door himself and steps out of Jens’ life once again.

Jens doesn’t know how long he stands there behind the closed door of his apartment, it could be minutes but also hours of trying to comprehend if that just really happened. It’s Milan’s voice that pulls him back eventually. “Aren’t you going back to work?”

Fuck. Right. Work. He kinda forgot about everything for a minute. Maybe it’s a prompt decision but he doesn’t think he could concentrate on work today anyway. “I’ll work from home today,” he lies to Milan and pulls out his phone to quickly shoot Sander a message that he doesn’t have to come in today. He feels something weird in his pocket and pulls that out as well. It’s a piece of toilet paper with something written on it.

Sorry for the toilet paper. That is weird, I know, but I don’t have any actual paper to write this note to you. If you want, meet me tomorrow at the Hotel De Witte Lelie at 16.00 and I’ll give you your sweater back. Say you are here to meet Flynn Rider. I hope you come, sincerely, Lucas

He doesn’t even notice Milan coming up behind him until he squeals directly into his ear. “I knew it!!! I saw the way he was looking at you. He is totally gone on you already, I could see it!!!”

Jens scoffs but it’s more out of habit than out of disbelief. Because somewhere in his mind he wants to believe it. Somewhere he wants to believe that Lucas wants to see him again and not just to give him his sweater back, somewhere he is pretty sure that Lucas had wanted to kiss him properly when he said goodbye, somewhere he wants to believe that Lucas meant it when he said next time.

He carefully folds the toilet paper and walks to his room, ignoring Milan’s protest and questions about if he plans on going. Which is the same question he is asking himself right now but the hope that began to bloom in his chest since he read the note is answer enough for him.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Not What It’s Cracked Up To Be ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Edge and Stretch are finally getting back on an even keel. Edge’s broken leg is healing well, Spring is finally here and the flowers are close to blooming.

Be a shame if anything disturbed their domestic bliss.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff, Chickens

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1  

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Read it here!

~~*~~

If Stretch had to make a top ten list of people that he expected to find at his front door on any given day, Papyrus would be on it, but Stretch had to guiltily admit, he would have been close to the bottom of the list, just below the mailperson.

It wasn't that Stretch didn't like Papyrus, he really did, but somehow, their paths didn't cross that often. Papyrus did a lot of work up at the Embassy and spent time training with Undyne and the rest of the security team. He had his own group down at the Y like Edge did of younger kids and every year they did a nature hike out in the wilds of Ebott, down the walking path that ran behind the shopping center.

Papyrus had his own gig going on and that was fine, but it did mean they mostly saw each other on movie nights and holidays. Kinda like cousins, maybe, not that Stretch ever had any. Not exactly close family, but family, nonetheless.

Now, finding Papyrus AND Jeff on his porch? Both of them with their arms loaded with plastic food containers and cups from the Beanery that looked to be filled with gloriously caffeinated concoctions? That wasn’t anywhere on Stretch’s top ten list or even in the top fifty. That was one that might’ve wandered onto an alternate list in the AM hours when Stretch couldn’t sleep, but even then, the odds weren’t good.

Papyrus’s grin of maniacal cheer, though, that was to be expected. It was the same one Blue got going when he had a scheme up his pant leg and that made warnings prickles stand up and do the cha-cha-cha on Stretch’s spine.

“hey, guys,” Stretch said slowly, “what’s going on?”

“What is going on is we are here to see you!” Papyrus said cheerily. He shifted the boxes in his arms. “We can continue going by you letting us inside!”

“I mean, you can leave us on the porch if you want,” Jeff’s grin was less maniacal, at least. Honestly, he looked tired and also like he wasn’t about to let that slow him down. “We’ll just stand here, alone, sad and pining for the fjords, wasting away—”

“yeah, yeah, i get it,” Stretch grinned and held open the door. “come in before the neighbors get interested. they already think we’re better than netflix.”

Papyrus and Jeff trooped inside, and Stretch took a second to peek out the front door. Edge was still working diligently on his flowerbeds, so that was fine. He saw Stretch looking and blew him a kiss and maybe catching it was pretend, but the warmth in his soul from it was plenty real.

Didn’t mean Stretch missed that his loving traitor didn’t come inside, though.

By the time he closed the front door, Jeff and Papyrus had taken over the coffee table. There were several plastic containers alongside the drink cups and okay, yeah, Stretch was curious to see what largess had been brought to them. Hopefully not too much, with his cast off and permission to stand, Edge was probably itching to get back into the kitchen. He’d graciously accept anything the guys brought over, probably, and then he’d be stuck between his urgent need to make food for everyone in sight and his need not to waste any morsel that came into the house. It was a bit of a balancing act and Edge was already wobbly on his feet.

Stretch wandered over to give one of the containers a poke. “i hadn't heard the hospital cut you loose yet, Paps.

“Just yesterday!” Papyrus beamed and now Stretch could see he had a cane of his own, exactly the same as Edge’s but he was currently using it more as punctuation than for support.

Released yesterday and Stretch hadn’t even known. He could have, should have. He’d just seen Sans a couple days go and he’d asked about Red, but not his brother who was still in the fucking hospital. And what, he could send tweets out to his fans but not a text to Papyrus to see how he was feeling? Stretch swallowed hard against the rising thickness in the back of his throat. “listen, i'm sorry i didn't get up to see you at the hospital much.”

Papyrus being Papyrus, only waved that off. “Not at all! Everyone is very busy right now.”

“Yeah,” Jeff put in and there was a wealth of meaning in that single word that probably synced up to the shadows under his eyes. “I barely got up there to see you and Edge, too.”

“Besides,” Papyrus went on, “You had your own patient to handle in what I am sure was an experience that left you stronger!”

“heh, that’s one way of putting it. how’s the noggin?” The bandages that were wrapped around Papyrus’s head in the hospital were gone and all the bruising faded. The dark line of a hairline crack was still running along his parietal bone. At this point it was probably here to stay, healing magic wasn’t much good on scars, otherwise Stretch would have gotten to work on Edge’s a long time ago.

Papyrus mimed rapping on his skull with his knuckles. “Better. I am still on sick leave even though I am injured, not sick. But I am not falling down as much now so they let me go home!”

The phrase falling down had implications that made Stretch shudder, even though he knew that wasn’t what Papyrus meant. Especially after today, seeing Edge’s healing leg, all his new scars, hairline fractures, all of them, but they were still there.

Okay, yeah, a subject change seemed to be a good idea.

Stretch picked up one of the containers and gave it a little shake. “so what brings you over to see me. not that i don’t want to see you guys, but…” He gestured at the rest of the containers. “i’m seeing a plan here.”

“Yes!” Papyrus said happily. “I brought something for your chickens!"

Huh. Today was definitely going off the charts, because that option wasn’t on any of Stretch’s top ten lists. “seriously?"

Papyrus obviously had his own standards when it came to lists, because he nodded as if it were obvious. “Yes! You see, usually when you are sick or injured in the hospital because of germs or stupidity—"

“hey!”

“--i have cared for your chickens for you! this time i was in the hospital and so i brought them spaghetti!”

Impeccable logic, really. Except for one small detail.

Paps was a much better cook these days but pasta still tended to elude him. Even the mention of spaghetti still gave Stretch shuddering flashbacks of those first few weeks when they came to this universe. It’d almost been enough for him to wish they were back in Underswap.

Almost.

All the other dishes Papyrus made were more than palatable, even delicious, except for when he dug out the noodles. Much as he didn’t want to hurt any feelings, neither did Stretch want to murder his chickens by poison pasta. “um that's really nice, but, uh.”

Whatever Papyrus thought he was going to say, if there were any hurt feelings about it, he shed it like water off a duck’s back, “Have no fear! It is vegetable spaghetti!"

“Spiral cut veggies, “Jeff put in. He pried off one of the lids and held it out, revealing bright orange and purple strands. His grin was a little wry; Jeff was another victim of Papyrus’s attempts at carbonara. “We made it fresh this morning.”

Oh. They’d made it, together. For the teeniest, tiniest moment there was a twinge of stupid jealousy, bitter sharp in his soul, because Jeff was supposed to be his best friend and here was Papyrus poaching on his territory when he already had lots of friends, in a couple different countries even, pen pals and people at the Embassy, why did he need one of Stretch’s?

Then he squashed that thought like the stink bug it was; there was plenty of Andy to go around and he wasn’t about to end his week by being a dick to his best friends over veggie noodles.

So hey, time to unwrap the enthusiasm and get this chicken party started. Stretch pasted his smile back on and said, “well hey, let’s go out back! i bet they’ll be scrambling for it.”

Papyrus didn’t even groan at the pun, though Jeff booed under his breath. His smile brought new meaning to the word beaming, it really did, bright as the sun. “Let me get some plates!”

He caned his way into the kitchen before Stretch could even offer to do it for him and yeah, there was one of the ways he and Edge were alike, stubborn little shits that they were.

Stretch shook his head and turned back to Jeff to ask, softly, “how is he doing, really?”

“He’s been fine today, but he should probably sit down for a while,” Jeff said in the same quiet tone. “I had him sitting at home when we were using the spiral slicer and he was pretty good about it. Don’t let him fool you, though, the doctors told him to take it easy—”

“—and he’s not really good at following their instructions,” Stretch finished with a sigh. “yeah, i’ve had some practice with that.”

“I’ll bet,” Jeff laughed just as Papyrus returned, plates in hand. Stretch kept back any comments about what Edge might have to say about them using his plates to feed chickens. Hey, they were family, they could use the good tableware.

“I’ll bet, too,” Papyrus said, “if you two are finished talking about me behind my back! Unless you want to do it in front of my face as well.”

Yeah, there were definitely times Stretch could tell Papyrus and Edge were cut from the same cloth. Although if he ever saw Edge smiling like Papyrus did, Stretch would be checking for any other signs of the apocalypse. “nah, i think we’re good. let’s head out.”

“Oh, and we brought you—” Jeff plucked one of the plastic cups from the table and held it out with a flourish. “triple venti, iced caramel macchiato with whip and an extra shot.”

Now that was a drink and Stretch took the cup, clutching it to his chest without even caring for the condensation dampening the front of his sweatshirt.

“you are the second-best person in the world,” Stretch told him sincerely, “if i wasn’t already married to the first best, i’d be polishing up my flirting skills for you.”

Jeff only rolled his eyes, “Yeah, okay, I’ll add you to my dance card, Mr. Darcy.”

“The dating manual has a chapter on polygamous relationships if you’d like to borrow it!” Papyrus said brightly.

Immediately, Jeff’s pale cheeks flamed a bright red and Stretch felt a blush of his own warm his face. Uh, yeah, no, his love for Andy stayed above the waist, thanks. Now he was glad Edge hadn’t come inside, he’d either be annoyed or silently laughing his ass off. Either way, Stretch could live without it.

He clapped a hand on Papyrus’s shoulder, “you know what, paps, i think we’re good, but i’ll keep it in mind. c’mon, it’s a nice day and the ladies await!”

“Of course!” Papyrus followed Stretch to the back door while Jeff gathered up the containers. “Did Edge redecorate the kitchen? I seem to recall a lot less red paint splattered on the walls and also a table the last time I was here…”

~~*~~

A few days ago, Stretch spent a couple hours cleaning off all the chairs on the patio from any winter gunk left on them. He’d done it for Edge so he could come outside while he was still off limits on any marathons, just a quick scrub down and some sunshine and they were good.

Now he wondered why he bothered because so far, every time anyone came out to the backyard, they ended up sitting on the damned ground. At least they grabbed the cushions off the chairs to keep the damp away. The chickens were gabbling eagerly from the moment the sliding glass door opened and the volume doubled when they realized it was more than the usual amount of suckers to demand scritches from.

Stretch let loose the chicks and Papyrus laid down the plates, already scolding, “Now hold on a moment, there’s more than one flavor! You’ll need a serving of each for the full decadent experience!”

Soon enough the grub was out and they were all sitting on their cushions, watching the chickens feast.

“gotta say, this was a pretty good idea,” Stretch admitted. Pretty good was understating it, the chickens loved the veggie spaghetti and they were gobbling it down, switching plates at will as they scarfed it as fast as they could. Noodle let out an indignant squawk when Nugget stole a tasty looking tidbit from under her beak and ended up on the other end of a strand with Dumpling in an impromptu Lady and the Tramp recreation that ended a lot less romantically when Nugget stole a bite right through the center.

“Of course it was!” Papyrus said loftily. Then he surprised Stretch by adding, “JeffAndy suggested it.”

Stretch raised a brow bone and Jeff shrugged, awkwardly, “Julia used to make veggie spaghetti all the time and Blue had a spiral cutter, so.”

“i haven’t seen blue for a few days.” Stretch fumbled into his hoodie pocket for his lighter, the metal smooth and cool under his fingertips. “how’s he doing?”

“Good. Busy, like all of us,” Jeff said. He took a drink from his cup and it left a slight whipped cream mustache on his upper lip that he licked away. “Think everyone will be glad when Edge is back full time.”

“yeah.” The lighter flicking through his fingers wasn’t enough suddenly and Stretch pulled out a pack of cigarettes to go with it at the same time he nudged Papyrus with an elbow. “and how’s your bro doing?”

“Very well!” Papyrus plucked up a far-flung piece of spaghetti and tossed it back towards the chickens. Dumpling all but snapped it out of the air. “He’s packing as we speak!”

“packing?” That was about the last thing Stretch expected to ever hear about Sans. He and Papyrus were the only brother pair still living together and Stretch would have put good odds on the that only changing if Papyrus moved out, and even then, Sans might try to crawl into one of the suitcases. Sans packing up was serious levels of gossip that he was missing out on.

Papyrus nodded. “Yes! Now that he and Red are betrothed, he is moving in! He didn’t want to leave at first, but I told him I would have someone stay with me until I am fully recovered!”

Betrothed was a weird way to describe that relationship and Sans actually moving in? Made Stretch wonder what’d happened that day when Sans carried Red out of the kitchen, not that he’d wanted to be a fly on the wall or anything. Maybe Red liked to play the spy guy, but Stretch had enough nightmares as it was. If he ever had to hear Red in throes of orgasm, he’d scrub the inside of his skull with a toilet brush.

“not undyne.” He couldn’t imagine her staying away from Alphys, especially not while she had a bun cooking in the oven.

“No, no, your brother!”

Stretch was in the middle of lighting his cigarette and sucked in too hard, coughing the smoke back out. His brother was staying with Papyrus? When did that happen? He was starting to feel more and more like Dorothy when she first stepped off the tornado.

“okay, hang on,” Stretch rubbed a knuckle between his sockets where an ache was starting to form. “can i get a timeline on this?”

“Of course!” Papyrus ticked off on his fingers. “First, Red gave Sans a betrothal collar.”

That choker he’d been wearing, with the heart-shaped buckle. Not at all the sort of thing he’d expected to be Sans’s taste, it’d been cute when Sans was more, ‘wear whatever fell on me today’. “is that what that was?”

“Oh, yes, Red told me that collars hold great significance in Underfell!”

“did he now?” Stretch said softly. Nope, that didn’t sting, not one little bit. His soul wasn’t at all lurching in his chest, rising up to settle painfully under his clavicles.

“Very much so! A betrothal collar is a promise and a warning.” Papyrus leaned in, his voice lowered conspiratorially to a level just below a shout. “More people probably need warnings about Sans.”

“you’re probably right.” Honestly, he should probably be wearing a sign.

“So he got his collar and told me. Then I told him he needed to move in with his fiancée and he said, ‘whoa, bro, don’t know about that you’re still pretty banged up and all.’”

Stretch couldn’t help grinning. He had to admit, that impression of Sans was pretty bang on.

“and I told him I would find someone else to stay with me and I asked your brother and he agreed!” Papyrus finished triumphantly.

He glanced at Jeff, who’d moved his cushion to be downwind of the cigarette smoke. “what about andy, thought you and blue were playing roommates.”

“I’m moving in with Antwan,” Jeff admitted shyly. He toyed with the laces on his shoes. “I mean, for now anyway.”

Normally, Stretch would have been squealing to hear that because hello, about fucking time. But from the sounds of it, if he wasn’t the last to know about all this, he was pretty damn close. “this all happened in the past couple days?”

Papyrus glanced at him. “If we are measuring by linear time, then yes.”

“always did prefer linear. helps to keep things straight. hey, congrats, andy,” Stretch said belatedly. Really belated, seemed like if this news was days old.

“Don’t congratulate me yet, Antwan hasn’t had to move my comic book collection,” Jeff laughed. But from his pink, pleased face he was pretty excited and why shouldn’t he be, he was moving in with his guy, Blue was moving in with Papyrus, Sans moving in with Red. All kinds of stuff going on that no one gave Stretch a call or text about it. Not that he blamed them, not really. He wasn’t being much of a good big brother lately or cousin or friend or whatever else the fuck he pretended he could do. Made him wonder how he was doing as a husband, since he was so shit at everything else.

The chickens were done mangling every speck of the spaghetti and Nugget wandered over to peck at the string on Stretch’s hoodie hopefully. It hadn’t turned into food for her the other hundred times she’d tried it, but that never stopped her before, especially since now it looked like her last treat. Stretch crushed out his cigarette and gave her a hopeful nudge, and she settled into his lap amicably, clucking happily as he smoothed a hand down her feathers.

Noodle was taking refuge in Papyrus’s lap, crooning for her own pets that Papyrus obediently provided. “Your chickens are very nice.”

“We’re lucky Edge isn’t here,” Jeff chuckled even as he coaxed Dumpling over for scritches of her own. “They think he’s the next coming of Chicken Jesus.”

Papyrus frowned. “I wouldn’t think that chickens followed Christian theology.”

It was always hard to tell when Papyrus was sincere or when he was fucking with you, and Stretch had a feeling he was being bent over today. “nah, these ladies are nondenominational.”

“If one must have a harem, one of chickens seems a good choice!” Papyrus said thoughtfully. “There are the eggs to consider.”

“a harem, why would---never mind.” Stretch decided he really didn’t want to know which way Papyrus’s brain was twisting today, he had enough of that with his own.

“By the way,” Jeff said as he struggled to keep Dumpling from attacking his shoelaces, “now that Edge is feeling better, I should probably tell you that your brother’s freezer is filled with bags of grapes.”

“grap..oh.” The grapes from Edge’s garden that he’d been picking when…well. When everything. He’d honestly forgotten all about them, that whole day was pretty much a suckhole of shit that he didn’t care to ever repeat. Even thinking that made Stretch feel a little queasy, knocking him even more off balance while he was trying to catch his equilibrium. Stretch let out a little laugh and if it sounded a little shrill, neither Jeff nor Papyrus noticed. “you froze them, really? when did you even have the time?”

Jeff shrugged, which meant it was probably after work, maybe even at the end of that long, horrible day, and he’d been exhausted and done it anyway. He really was a good friend, better than Stretch deserved.

“i’ll let him know.” Stretch rubbed Nugget gently under the chin and she cooed happily. “and hey, thanks for stopping by with the spaghetti for my girls and letting me knows what’s up with the nearby world.”

“Wish I could say it was my idea,” Jeff said. His smile was a little lopsided. “I’ve missed hanging out. With everything that’s going on, Papyrus thought maybe you were feeling a little out of the loop. He said not being at work makes him think it’s Sunday when it’s Wednesday.”

“yeah, he’s got a good point.”

“I usually do,” Papyrus said modestly.

The sliding glass door opened then, and Edge stepped out. Immediately the chickens abandoned all laps and ran to him, and usually Stretch thought that was cute as fuck, but today, it was an extra scoop of abandonment on top of his cone of salty guilt.

Edge crouched and gave each of them a quick pat, “Hello, everyone. I only wanted to check if you two are staying for dinner.”

“No,” Papyrus said, somehow managing to look sad and elated at the same time. “Blue is planning a welcome to my home dinner for me tonight!”

“I can’t either, Antwan and I haven’t done anything but sleep in the same bed for the past week. We’re planning take out and time together.” Jeff scrambled to his feet with a groan, stretching, “We need to get going, anyway.”

Edge nodded, like none of this was news to him. Maybe it wasn’t, Stretch really was the last to know everything. Even about betrothal collars and Stretch twisted the ring on his finger, feeling the delicate swirls etched into it with the tips of his fingers. The metal wasn’t cool like his lighter, warmed by his own bones.

It only took a couple of minutes for Jeff and Papyrus to gather up the empty containers, and Stretch got the plates, setting them next to him on the ground.

“see you guys later!” Stretch called as they went through the gate. He got waves in return and then they were gone.

Edge sat down on the cushion next to him, stretching out his leg brace in front of him as he nudged it closer than Papyrus had. Close enough for him to settle his own hand over Stretch’s and he couldn’t help wondering if that was to keep him from reaching for his cigarettes again. He was supposed to be quitting and that’d fallen to the wayside at some point, supposed to be seeing Alphys about his HP, when was the last time he’d done that? So many fucking questions today and Stretch wasn’t sure about some of the answers.

“Just you and me tonight then, love,” Edge said. His thumb grazed lightly across Stretch’s knuckles and he noted absently that he’d changed his gloves. These ones were worn soft, comfort gloves, like some of Stretch’s sweatshirts, and he didn’t know why Edge needed comforting.

“yeah, just you and me,” Stretch agreed softly, and when had that become less of a delight.

He really was losing his touch because Edge gave him a narrow look almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“nothing,” Stretch said, and he forced lightness into the word, “think i’m just a little tired, we had a lot going on today.”

Edge hummed softly in agreement, “Why don’t you take a nap?”

“take one with me?” Stretch offered and he knew from the split-second of hesitation on Edge’s face that he wanted to say no. Which, of course he fucking did, he just got his cast off, he was probably wanting a shower or maybe even a bath, give those newly scarred bones a good scrub before he went to do all the other shit he couldn’t do last week. “you know what, never mind.”

“Are you sure?” Edge asked, because of course he did. He always put Stretch’s happiness first. Like it was something Stretch actually deserved and that was a shitty thing to think and Stretch knew it, so he was stopping that right now.

“yep,” Stretch forced a yawn. “if it’s just me i can sprawl out.”

“Me being in the bed has never stopped you before,” Edge said dryly. But he lifted Stretch’s hand and kissed his knuckles, right over his wedding ring, the one Edge gave him when he promised to love and cherish him, and Stretch was gonna knock it the fuck off thinking about anything with collars or Underfell. Edge loved him and he knew it, he didn’t need anything else.

Not a damn thing.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Three

[purplesurveys]

656

Where is the last place you had a kiss? My girlfriend’s couch. I normally wouldn’t kiss her inside her house but we were alone, so it just happened. What did you eat for breakfast yesterday? I skipped breakfast yesterday and went straight to having a macchiato, which was a horrible idea considering I had a badddd hangover. My body made me pay for it soon enough when my stomach started unusually heating up, so I bought a sandwich by around lunch to help it feel better. When was the last time you were at an amusement park? 2013. I don’t like amusement parks so when my friends make plans I don’t go along with them. Two weeks ago I was at a school fair which kinda has the same amenities as an amusement park, but I guess it’s not the real thing so it doesn’t count. When was the last time you cried out of physical pain? Last Wednesday. My friend Leigh was trying to demonstrate for me the concept of just-noticeable difference by pinching the skin on my hand. I don’t like feeling pain anywhere on my body, so when she started amping up her pinching I had to yell out. Have you ever done anything to Support the Troops? No. Can’t relate.

Do you donate blood? Nooooo no nope. I just said I didn’t like feeling discomfort on any part of my body hahaha and getting pricked is the worst sensation for me. I wouldn’t be able to donate blood even if I wanted to either – as far as I know you have to be of a certain weight to be qualified, and I’ve never met that requirement. Are you wearing two shirts? No. It’s never too cold to be wearing two shirts here. The only time I had to really do this in a local sense was in Sagada. That weather was b r u t a l. It was the first time my dad turned on the heater in our car and I didn’t even know Filipino cars came with heaters lmaaaaaaao. This was a very long way of saying no. Have you ever owned the socks with toes on them? Never have. What were you the last time you went trick or treating? I went as my best friend at the time, Sofie. I didn’t have time (and wasn’t as extroverted as I am now) to come up with a detailed costume, so I went as her – black dress, eyebags, winged eyeliner, and thick hair that was never combed. It had the least effort of all my friends’ costumes, but I got the most compliments on social media lol. What's your favorite morning activity? I am so not a morning person, and I just like sleeping/lying in whenever I can. Can you cook? I am hopeless in that department. Is there a lot of laundry in your hamper? No. My mom’s laundry day is Friday, so it’s basically empty the whole weekend. When do you think you'll have children? In a little less than a decade, honestly. I’m pretty firm in my decision to have kids; it’s my biggest dream if anything. I mean I’m also willing to wait until I’m in my 30s because god knows how expensive everything is rapidly getting these days, but I just know I’ll end up having kids one way or another. Can you point out constellations in the night sky? No. The only thing I can safely point out for you is Orion’s Belt, and that’s because it’s essentially a giveaway lmao. What was your favorite part about studying ancient Greeks and Romans? Nothing. It’s one of my least favorite topics. The only thing that got me to enjoy them for a brief period was the Percy Jackson series, but when I finished the books my interest in that world waned fast. Have you ever eaten a gyro? Nah, but close enough – I’ve had shawarma. What's your favorite flavor of Tootsie pops? Mmmm not really a fan of Tootsie Pops, or like candy in general. What's the last thing you bought at a mall? If I remember correctly, I got a toasted siopao in Coffee Bean. Where did your mom go to high school? She went to Colegio de Santa Rosa in Makati. What's a subject you would never major in? Philosophy. My college curriculum required me to take one Philosophy elective, and not only was it the worst experience ever, but I got my second-lowest mark in college from that class. Is there someone who you can turn to for money and not be ashamed? No. I hate asking for money, even from my parents. When's the last time you took a bubble bath? A little over a year ago, probs. I love bubble baths when I manage to get settled in one, but because I’m usually in a hurry when I take showers, the concept of staying and relaxing in a bathtub is a little weird to me so I never do it haha. Have you ever swam in a river? I have photos of me when I was 1, my mom, her sisters-in-law, and their kids (my cousins) swimming in some river.  Are there any dirty clothes underneathe your bed? No. I know I could be messy, but that’s just disgusting. What food do you love the smell of while it's cooking? Curry. What food do you hate the smell of uncooked? I just hate the smell of wasabi in general. Your #2--what's their occupation? Your #3--what color are their eyes? Your #1--what cartoon character would they be? Your #4--are they allergic to anything? All Myspace questions that I’m skipping, lmao. Has a bee ever stung you? No. That’s like one of my top 3 fears so I never allow myself to be near bees or wasps. If there’s any nearby I run the fuckkkkk away. Where did you last go camping? I have never been camping for real. In what month do you start Christmas shopping? Last year I had some stuff ordered by early November – but those were gifts for just my girlfriend. I bought everyone else’s gifts like a week before Christmas. Have you ever slept in a bed with someone with bad BO? I’m sure I have; I just don’t let it bother me because no one’s breath is supposed to smell great in the morning lmao. Do you have a favorite flavor at Baskin Robbins? I have never had Baskin Robbins and I dunno if I will, because it’s just so expensive. Philippine suppliers looove bringing foreign brands like Shake Shack and Baskin Robbins over here and slapping insanely high prices on them just so they’re seen as high-end lmao, it’s sad. Are there fast food wrappers/cups in your car? No not at the moment. If anything there are old receipts. Do you read the newspaper? Very seldom, but given that I’m a journalism student, I encounter newspapers a lot because they’re everywhere in the college. What search engine do you use? Google. Have you ever posted a question on Yahoo questions? Nope. But the website is useful and I just look for people asking the same question I have at the moment. Have you ever been on a dating website? I made a Tinder account a few years ago just to observe it and just for fun. I never needed it but I was curious, so I joined it but I used a fake name and a photo of a cat I saw in school as my profile picture so that no one knew who it was. Have you ever had a crush on a celebrity of the same sex? Save for CM Punk, I’ve only ever had crushes on female celebrities. What kind of flowers would you plant in your garden? I dunno, I’ve never felt interested in growing flowers...or a garden, in general. Would you rather have a flat tire or overheated car? Flat tire. As far as I know that can be fixed a little more easily than a completely overheated car. What's the safest form of transportation? Private car, lmao. That’s really your safest bet in this country. Do you believe that kids should be taught abstinence? They can be taught about it so they’re aware of what it means and asks of them, but kids should also be reminded that at the end of the day it’s an option that they can choose to take or not. When's the next time you'll go to the grocery store? I only ever go when my dad is home because he likes having us along, so maybe in a month or two. When's the last time you went to Chuck E. Cheese? Never. What's your favorite cheese or cheese flavored food? Mozzarella sticks. Do you like black licorice? It’s decent, at best. I won’t spit it out, but it’s not my first candy of choice either. Can you count to 100 in another language? Two, Filipino and Spanish. We use Spanish when referring to currency, so that’s why it’s easy to memorize. Like I’d say I have labing-limang (fifteen in Filipino) notebooks, but when I have to say fifteen pesos, we say it as kinse (fifteen in Spanish). Idk, it’s a weird quirk with Filipinos but yeah. What's the nearest thing to you that can bounce? I don’t think there is anything bouncy in the living room at the moment. Do you hate cleaning? If I have to do it I get lazy. But when I actually want to clean, it can be relaxing. Do you clear dishes in the garbage disposal or in the garbage can? My mom takes out the garbage. Do you watch anything on the E! network? I don’t think our cable comes with E! so the only times I get to encounter it is when we’re staying over at hotels. I like having Keeping Up With the Kardashians on when we do have that channel. Have you ever tried out or thought of trying out for American Idol? I loved the show during its peak days, but I never had the desire to join it. Where's your car keys? Upstairs, on my bedside drawer. Did you keep any momentos of high school dances? From my high school ball, yes. I still have my old gown, photos with Mike, the instrument he used to ask me to ball (a Starbucks cup with the proposal written on it by the barista), and my old corsage. I like keeping stuff like that around so that I don’t forget, not because I still like him lmao. My prom could fuck off, and I have nothing from that night. Do you still have clothes from your high school dances? I have no idea. My high school prom dress disappeared after a while, but I still have my ball gown. The last person you laid in bed with said... I don’t know what you’re referring to but our last conversation was her telling me to drive home safe. Can you touch your nose with your tongue? I can’t. Which celebrities would you want to hang out with at a bbq? The Friends cast. Do you think you could do better drawings than Napolean Dynamite? I have never seen the movie. What are you doing on Superbowl Sunday? Isn’t it over already? I saw my aunts and uncles post about it on Facebook so I’m pretty sure it’s over. Anyway, I don’t care for football. Ever been to the original 13 colonies? No. Have you ever been to a concert that got out of control? Not really. The most ‘rebellious’ thing that ever happened was at my One Direction concert. The organizers made the stupid decision of holding the show on FLAT concert grounds and not a stadium, for a concert that probably held 10,000-20,000 people. Can you imagine holding that on just the GROUND??? Anyway, my sister and I had the third best tickets which was supposed to bring us to the semi-front, but it turned out to be so far from the stage. Everyone from my section all the way to the back resorted to standing up on the monobloc chairs which really isn’t allowed, but duh it’s One Direction and we wanted to see them. Harry had to call us out and ask us to get down from the chairs and just stand on the ground for our safety, but we kept protesting until they just gave up and continued the show. What's the last thing you watched on tv? Titanic, but we watched it on Netflix. I haven’t seen cable TV in a whiiiiiiile.

Whose show should be cancelled? 13 Reasons Why. Do you like Lindsay Lohan as a blonde? It doesn’t bother me. When's the last time you ate fruit? Last Friday I tried some of Laurice’s green mango with bagoong. Can you jump rope double dutch? Nope. I know jump rope but I never went that far.

[lespetitesmortsde]

One-Sided War, part three

Part three! @sketchywave

Except Beca does win a third time, because she works there and gets in before anybody else and stakes her claim on the spot before anyone else even has the chance.

It sparks Chloe’s irritation anew and the injustice forces it to grow. Emily can almost see the flames behind her eyes as she takes Chloe’s order and money and gestures her over to the pick-up area.

The old man is right behind Chloe, and she watches what he’s going to do as he gets his regular drip (in a white non-refillable mug) and she waits for her espresso.

To her surprise, as soon as Beca sees the man, she gets up and helps him into the chair, playfully wrapping her blanket around him and shaking his hand before walking past Chloe and into the back room of the cafe. When she emerges only moments later, Chloe’s picking up her drink, and Beca stays behind the bar, sliding easily into the rhythm Emily and Tom have set up.

Chloe slips into the same chair she had yesterday, deftly avoiding the weird bulge, and sits quietly across from the man. He reads his newspaper, and drinks his coffee, and Beca clearly isn’t coming back before he leaves, so Chloe sets up her computer. When she navigates back to her document, she cringes at the lack of work she did yesterday.

She needs to stop letting Beca distract her, so she dives right in and tries not to think about the mysterious new addition to her cafe.

Her plan doesn’t exactly go smoothly, though, because around 6:45, Beca wanders over with a mug of coffee, white this time, and sets it down in front of the old man. She swipes away his empty coffee mug and walks right back to the counter to help her coworkers.

When the old man reaches for his coffee next, after putting down his newspaper, she can almost see the chain reaction in his mind: reach for mug, oh wait there’s no coffee left, wait why is there a new mug here…

He looks up and looks around and looks imploringly over at the counter. Like she has a sixth sense, Beca looks over at that moment, sends him a smile and a wave, and then goes right back to work. Chloe can see the corners of her mouth are still slightly turned up.

“Thank you, Beca,” he calls out across the coffee shop, and Beca waves him off again.

“No problem, Rick, enjoy.”

Oh Jesus, Chloe thinks. Her anger dissipates almost entirely. She’s sweet and her voice is sexy. Chloe glances down mournfully at her computer, already admitting defeat, already knowing that today is the day she’s going to talk to Beca.

She’s also disappointed in herself. Since when does she get so irritated over small things like a chair in a coffee shop? And why doesn’t she know that the nice old man she used to switch chairs with is named Rick, when she’s been here longer?

It feels a little like she’s lost herself somewhere along the way in the past few years, settling into what she thought was a routine of adulthood, but now that she thinks more critically, seems more and more like a rut.

When did she stop making friends everywhere she goes and get so… so self-involved?

She shudders and takes a comforting sip of her macchiato. The more she thinks about it, the less she likes discovering what she’s brushed aside as the naivete of youth. She vows to be better.

Glancing over at the brunette, who’s now working the till instead of the frother, she nods to herself and even though she has almost half her drink left, she downs it quickly. She waits a moment for all the new liquid to settle into her stomach before she gets up and joins the back of the now nine-person-deep line, almost out the door.

“Hello there, can I get you another caramel macchiato?” Beca asks as Chloe approaches the counter.

Chloe beams, “Yes, please.”

“Caramel macchiato, half-sweet, for Chloe,” Beca calls over her shoulder, already ringing through the refill charge.

“Wait, how did you-”

Beca chuckles. “Emily says you’re here every day and you always get the same thing.”

Sure enough, when Chloe glances over at her usual barista, Emily gives a little wave before going right back to steaming milk.

“Well, thanks,” Chloe says, holding out her hand so Beca can pour coins into it. “Beca,” she adds.

Beca smirks. “No problem.”

Chloe steps away, toward the pick-up counter, and watches Beca interact with the next customer, and then the one after that, before she’s able to pick up her coffee and head back to her new spot.

Rick’s coffee is already three quarters gone, and he’s pushed his newspaper aside to just stare out the window instead. Normally, Chloe would’ve left him alone, but now that she’s trying to get back to college Chloe, she’s on a mission.

She sits down across from him, puts down her drink, and leans forward in her chair. “Hi there!” she greets brightly. He turns to look at her and smiles a little.

“Hello.”

“So your name’s Rick? My name’s Chloe. I see you in here a lot. Nice to finally meet you!” And Chloe sticks out her hand.

Rick takes it and gives it a good one-pump shake. “Nice to meet you, too.” He shifts a little in his seat. “You’re here early today.”

Chloe blushes a little at this. “I was trying to scope it out and see why Beca kept beating me to inheriting your chair, but now I understand.” She settles back into her new spot. “And this chair is pretty good, so long as you avoid the bump.”

That gets a laugh out of the man, and it’s so nice to have an innocent conversation with someone that it strikes Chloe how much she’s missed it.

“It doesn’t come pre-warmed though, does it?” Rick asks, playfully.

She laughs softly, “No, it doesn’t, but I guess I’ll live.” Chloe sighs a little for dramatic effect and Rick practically glows at the attention.

He drinks the last of his coffee, and looks a little forlornly at the mug. Chloe looks at him questioningly, but when Rick catches her eye, he just shrugs. “I’m not supposed to have more than one cup of coffee per day,” he admits. “Doctor said something about all the caffeine.”

Suddenly, Chloe’s good will toward Beca wanes.

“Oh, no!” She says, wringing her hands. Already, she’s thinking of ways to talk to Beca about potentially harming the health of one of her customers.

“Don’t worry about it,” a voice interjects, and Chloe turns to see Beca smiling at Rick. “It’s decaf, old man, so it’s got all the flavour and none of the crap.”

Chloe almost swoons.

Beca’s changed out of her cafe shirt, instead donning some sort of dark blue tank top with a red plaid shirt overtop, and still on top of that, a black hoodie.

“Thank you, Beca,” Rick says, as he gets up from the chair and folds his newspaper under his arm, blanket falling off of his shoulders as he goes.

“Like I said, no problem, Rick,” Beca smiles, taking a step to the side. “Have a good day!”

Rick nods, “I will, thank you, you ladies, too.” Chloe feels a little pleasurable spark at being included with Beca. He walks off and Beca drops into the chair, wrapping her blanket around herself. She reaches into her bag to pull out her headphones and Chloe realizes that her window for a conversation is vanishing as she watches.

“Hey,” Chloe says, an edge of panic to her voice. Beca pauses in her movements.

“Hey…?”

“So do you own this place now, then?” Chloe asks, the question pouring out of her. She’d meant to check if Beca was, indeed, new in town, and then try to use that as a segue to meet up with Beca outside of the coffee shop.

Beca laughs. It’s not just an amused chuckle or a couple of ‘heh’s; it’s a full on chortle, like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her lifetime. Chloe just sits there confused and patient.

“No, I don’t own the place. I’m just helping out for a few days. I’m friends with the actual owner, Jesse. He needed some help, I was passing through, so why not, you know?” Beca pulls her headphones onto her lap and reaches into her bag again, drawing out her laptop.

Chloe knows Jesse, has met him a bunch over the time she’s spent sequestered in what is now Beca’s chair. And she doesn’t mean to be rude, but, “How do you two know each other?”

Almost anyone aside from Chloe would’ve blushed at pressing for information, but Chloe just leans forward a little bit in her chair to show she’s interested, and smiles warmly.

Beca shifts her headphones so they lie on top of her closed laptop, and picks up her coffee instead. She scoots back, like she’s settling in for a lengthy conversation, and wraps her hands around the mug.

“We went to the same music finishing school.”

Chloe grins, “I love music! What did you two do there?”

Beca takes a sip before responding, “Jesse pursued thematic scoring; he’s really into movies. I took a degree in music engineering.” Chloe nods along as Beca speaks.

“So, now Jesse owns a coffee shop and you…?”

“I produce music. I’ve also been known to DJ a little on the side, but it happens less often these days.”

Bobbing her head, Chloe asks, “Anything I might’ve heard?”

Beca tilts her head like she’s thinking about it. “On the production side, yes, if you listen to the radio. On the DJ side, only if you find mixes in the furthest corners of the internet.”

Chloe just stares at her expectantly.

Beca sighs into a chuckle. “You know Halsey?”

Wide-eyed, Chloe nods quickly. Beca shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“That’s so awesome, Beca! Wow! She’s got some sick beats,” Chloe compliments. Beca tries to hide her pleasure at the compliment behind an awkward smile.

“Thanks.”

“Whom else?”

“Um, I’ve done some stuff with Justin Timberlake, a couple with Ed Sheeran, once I was graced to help Beyonce, and there have been a few others.” Beca fidgets with the edges of her blanket.

“Damn,” Chloe whistles. “So, you’re like, famous hey?”

Immediately Beca is shaking her head, “No, no, no, I just play with some buttons and dials and stuff. I’m not famous.”

But Chloe will not be put off. “What’s your DJ name?”

Beca blushes hard. “Oh, um, it’s just Beca Mitchell. Or DJ double B. Or DJ B. I never really wanted a DJ-something name, though. If David Guetta doesn’t need one nor do I.”

Chloe freezes. “Shut. Up.”

So Beca stares uncomfortably.

“Shut up!” And then Chloe’s vibrating with glee, talking animatedly, “I love your stuff, oh my God, you’re not as hard to find as you think you are. How did you come up with the “Bulletproof” and “Titanium” mashup? The “500 Miles” one? You did a whole slew of Halsey mashups; it makes so much sense now!”

Beca swallows audibly. “Whoa. Okay. Calm down. Still shitty temporary barista Beca.”

But Chloe ploughs on, relentlessly, “Is that what you’re doing on your computer? I knew you couldn’t be writing, but I thought maybe you were doing accounting stuff for this place. Now that I know what I know, though, is it true?”

“So you’ve been watching me?”

That stops Chloe in her tracks. “Oh, um, well, I-”

Thankfully, Beca laughs. “Relax, Chloe. Yes, I’m working on some new mixes and mashups. I don’t perform much anymore, but I still release the stuff I make in my spare time.”

Chloe visibly relaxes. “How long are you here for, then, Ms. Badass Producer Lady?”

“Well, I’m covering for Jess for another week, and then I’m heading back to LA for a few sessions. Then, I dunno. I’ll be around.”

Beca’s eyes drift down and notice that Chloe’s cup and her own are empty. She shakes off her blanket and takes them over to the counter, washing her hands before making their drinks. This time, she doesn’t make herself a black coffee because Chloe watches her pour steamed milk into both of their mugs, not just hers.

When she walks back, Chloe asks, “What’d you get this time?”

Settling back into her blanket, Beca shrugs. “Same as you. I don’t usually go for the sweet stuff, but I only added half the sweetener you get. It’s halfway okay.”

“Rude,” Chloe states, taking a sip and smiling.

“That’s what people keep telling me,” Beca agrees.

There’s a brief silence over the two of them as they both grip onto their warm mugs and just kind of settle.

“Oh wait,” Chloe exclaims quickly, putting down her cup and shoving a hand into her jacket pocket. “I owe you $2.95 for the refill.”

Beca just waves her off, “It’s on the house. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Chloe hesitates to put her change back into her pocket.

“I’m sure, Chloe. It’s fine. I’m the boss remember? At least for the week.” Beca glances around for a second before setting her gaze back on Chloe. “So what do you do here all day? Em says you’re here basically all day every day.”

It’s Chloe’s turn to flush lightly. “Oh, I’m a writer.”

Beca grins, “Anything I’d know?”

Chloe screws up her nose a little in thought. “I generally write historical fiction or non-fiction, and you don’t strike me as the type.”

Laughing, Beca nods, “Yeah, I barely read, but when I do, it’s generally a YA novel Jesse’s recommended or books about music.”

“The music bit is a little predictable, Becs,” Chloe informs her, leaning back comfortably in her chair and taking a sip of her drink.

“What can I say, I’m an open book,” Beca jokes. “Seriously though, what’ve you written? Maybe I’ll try it out.”

“You’ll be here tomorrow, right?” Chloe asks, changing the subject.

A little confused, Beca replies, “Yeah, why?”

“I’ll bring some of my books. If you want to read any of them, you can just have them,” Chloe says. She leans down to dig into her bag for her pad of sticky notes, grabs her pen from the tabletop, and writes herself a note so she doesn’t forget.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” Beca attempts to backpedal.

Chloe waves her off. “Show me some of the stuff you’re working on, but haven’t finished, and we’ll call it a trade.”

“Deal,” Beca agrees, “but only stuff that’s my own.” She shrugs. “Confidentiality contracts and all that jazz.”

“That’s so cool,” Chloe says a little dreamily.

Beca raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of her coffee while Chloe blushes lightly. “Sorry.”

But Beca just shakes her head with a small smile. “What are you working on right now, Hemingway?”

Chloe giggles briefly as she hits a few keys on her laptop. “Not quite the right genre, but I’ll give it to you,” Chloe answers. “As long as you don’t think I’m an alcoholic.” She turns the screen towards Beca.

Shrugging, Beca scoots forward in her seat to get a better look at Chloe’s screen as she replies, “Eh, we don’t know each other well enough yet. I’m reserving judgment.”

“So you think we’ll get to know each other more?”

Beca’s cheeks redden. “Maybe just hoping.”

Chloe smiles widely and gestures to the screen. “Right now I’m working on an article for National Geographic about territorialism in domestic animals,” Chloe explains. “Maybe you could help me with the human angle?”

Beca moves her gaze from the screen to Chloe’s face, confusion evident. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Chloe grins, happy that Beca’s taken the bait. “Well, for example, I’m very territorial about my coffee shop seat,” she trails off as she watches Beca’s confusion deepen.

“Okay…?”

“And for the last three days,” Chloe smirks, “a certain brunette best friend of the manager has been stealing it.”

Beca’s mouth drops open in a soft ‘o.’ “Oh my God–”

“Which is a clear breach of my territory, however, like animals in the wild, I can be appeased,” Chloe explains helpfully, cutting off what she assumes will be an apology. “Say dinner tonight? 7?”

She watches as Beca’s face flows from confusion and apologies to slow realization, and finally, through to a smile.

“You’re good,” Beca acknowledges, and tips an imaginary hat.

Chloe almost purrs at the compliment. “Thanks.”

Beca pulls a small notebook out of her bag, rips a page out, and writes on it. When she hands it to Chloe, she shrugs, “I don’t usually carry my phone on me, but you should probably text me an address or someplace where I’ll be picking you up.”

Excitedly, Chloe takes the slip of paper and makes a big show of entering the number into her phone, which is almost always on her. “Thanks!” she says brightly. “I’m Chloe Beale, by the way,” she waves Beca off as she opens her mouth. “We already know your last name, so I thought I would level the playing field.”

“Well, thanks, Chloe Beale,” Beca replies, playing with one of the ear cushions on her headphones. Then she gestures down at Chloe’s laptop. “When’s your deadline?”

Immediately, Chloe winces. “Like… two days ago?”

Beca’s laughter is immediate and full, even though it’s quiet to match the coffee shop’s atmosphere. “I’d be so dead if I was that late.”

Blushing, Chloe defends herself, “It’s kind of, like, a thing in the publishing industry. Writers are late. Even when we try not to be!”

“Oh really?” Beca asks, amusement evident, disbelief clear.

Chloe nods emphatically. “Oh yeah, my editors have a policy where they give all writers early deadlines so that they can afford the extra time when the writer’s late.”

Beca just raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Chloe admits, “I’m not supposed to know in case I abuse the safety net they’ve created for themselves, but it still works! I just feel less bad when I’m late.”

“So how much of a cushion do you have?”

“Like a week?” Chloe says, tilting her head to the side. “Something like that.”

Beca hums. “And how close are you to being finished?”

“... Not very,” Chloe says and she meets Beca’s inquisitive stare.

The two of them hold eye contact for a moment.

“Okay, well, you work on your book, and I’ll work on my music so that A. I meet my deadline because in the music industry, you cannot be late. If you’re close to the deadline, you’re considered late. And B. So that when I take you out later and blow your mind with awesomeness, I won’t feel guilty about pulling you from your responsibilities.”

“That sounds good, Becs,” Chloe smiles.

Beca smirks. “That’s how I roll,” she says and slips on her headphones, sending a wink Chloe’s way before focusing her eyes on the screen in front of her.

[natysadventureblog]

Canada here I come!

02 and 03-Aug-2017

It's finally time to go on my new adventure!! I wasn't used to waiting this long, anymore!!

Well my flight was at 21h, from the international airport, which is at least an hour away from where I live, and my parents weren't gonna be able to give me a ride this time, so I had to take the shuttle from the other airport. Since we should be there 3 hours before the flight, I had to be there at 18h, and there was a chance there would be some protests on the way, so I left home at 15h30, to take the 16h10 bus. Unfortunately, this wasn't free like the last one, but I got a discount buying both ways at once, so it cost me a total of R$73. Thankfully it all went well and I got there about 1:10 later (but for some reason the AC in the bus was at 15°C!!! WHYYYYY??? It was around 20°C outside... it was nice!! Why did we have to freeze???).

Right after I got to the airport I had an accident, though... it was way too ridiculous to tell here, but let's just say it involved an escalator and me trying to prevent my big bag from falling on the guy behind me...

Oh well, now I'll have matching scars (remember the time I almost broke my left leg, last year?) and the right leg of my jeans is ripped... hahaha, it hurts, but not as badly as it looks... I thought it was gonna hurt a lot later, but it wasn't too bad.

I spent some time re-arranging my bag, because even though I can always bring 32Kg with me on these long international flights, my last flight before my final destination would be from a different company, and it would be a domestic flight, so I wasn't sure they were gonna allow over 23Kg, and I didn't want to take my chances.

Once I had checked in and checked my bag, I ate the food I brought with me (cause everything at GRU airport is ridiculously expensive) and went to the gate area.

Because everything before that took so long, I didn't have to wait much, and soon I was on the plane.

I hadn't flown United Airlines in years, and it sure made me miss SAA... very little leg room, BUT the food definitely improved since last time (which was disgusting... well, the coffee still is, to be honest)! I even got dessert! And my flight attendant was my favorite ever!!

I missed breakfast, though, because nobody bothered waking me up (I had a terrible night of sleep, because the lady next to me wouldn't stop moving and bumping into me), so I only woke up to the sound of people unwrapping their croissants. But I asked for mine after they served the beverages.

We arrived in Newark around 5h30, and for a moment I got pretty scared... so, Canada doesn't have a specific law for volunteer work and such, so we don't need a work visa, BUT depending on the person at customs, they might not let you in the country because you're gonna be working, even if it's for free, so we have to say we're just travelling. So, arriving in the US, I didn't expect the lady to ask me what I was gonna do in Canada, so I just answered honestly, and she asked me if I had a visa for that, and I told her that because it's an unpaid internship, I only need a tourist visa (not even a tourist visa, actually, just an ETA), so she just let me through, but she was stamping my passport and writing on it, so I was terrified, thinking that she might have written something that could get me in trouble!! Thankfully it was just her signature and the date! *Phew*

I was supposed to board for Montréal at 7h20, but the flight was delayed... like REALLY delayed!! I was supposed to arrive there at 9h something, and the plane only took off at 10h40!!! I was supposed to board my next flight at 11h25!!!! Well, we landed at 11h30, and I still had to go through customs and re-check my bag, not to mention that I was in the back of the plane, so I had to wait for everybody to get off... the flight attendant even called them to let them know (because nobody bothered mentioning the flights that could be missed because of the delay, as I'm used to hearing, when the plane lands)... I ran!! Customs was actually fine... I was in such a hurry that I didn't even say all that I was planning on saying... I got to the counter to re-check my bag at 11h55 (the plane was supposed to depart at 11h50)... they didn't wait for me... but the ladies were really nice and got me on the next flight, which was about 5 hours later.

Oh! There was a nice snack on the plane!

Oh! I asked them about the weight, for when I'm coming back, and I'm still allowed 32Kg! Woo-hoo!! I get to buy stuff!!

Well, I had enough time to check out the entire airport and choose what I'm gonna buy for my family on the way back. I stopped at Starbucks for a MMM (Marble Mocha Macchiato), but had to google how to make it, because the baristas didn't know it (it's basically a caramel mocha, but with white mocha instead of vanilla, and dark mocha drizzled on top). It ended up costing me quite a lot, but I love it and hadn't had it since 2013, so I deserved it!

And after all that stress, from both yesterday and today, I felt like I deserved to eat something nice and different, so I got myself some lobster tacos!! They were super yummy!! But I forgot that here the taxes are added later, so it actually cost me even more than I expected... oh well, I'll just have to skip a few meals to make it up for it! Haha

The previous airports only had free wifi for 30 minutes, but thankfully, the wifi at the Montréal airport is unlimited, so it was actually some nice 5 hours of rest.

My next flight was also delayed, but only for half an hour. The plane was SO tiny!! Like, seriously!! There were about 30 seats!! Haha, but they gave us mini pretzels and water.

At 20h, I finally arrived in Sept-Îles, my final destination for the day... the sun was setting and it was quite pretty, but unfortunately I wasn't by the window.

From there I had to take a taxi to the hostel. I was told it would cost around CAD25.00, but thankfully it was less than C$23.00!

The lady at the front desk was really nice, but didn't speak much English. She showed me to my dorm (I had to carry my big bag to the basement) and I didn't have the energy to do much before going to bed, aside from showering.

Oh! I met this guy who's sharing the bunk bed with me, and was asking him about what to do tomorrow (my only day in Sept-Îles), and he mentioned this island that he was actually planning on going to tomorrow. So we'll do that.

Now time to get some rest so I can make the most of my time here!