#the music from this fic has found a permanent place both in my playlists and my heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

Text

Aerosmith

Alright, y'all: here's that fic that I'm low key scared no one is going to read that has taken me a few months to write, a Trent x single mom!reader fic

It's a long one, with the Bruin's feral little fighty boy from St. Louis, around 13.3k words. The songs listed as the headers of each section are all by Aerosmith, each part partially inspired by the song (hence the name of the fic)

Shoutout to @toplinetommy for helping me with this the entire time and being my beta AND to @chara-hugs for letting me bounce ideas off of you and talking through what I was thinking of. Love you lots 💛

I hope people like this

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Just Push Play

Considering how much was happening around you at the bar your friends had dragged you to, the only thing that could keep your attention was your phone. It was the only thing, at this point, that you would allow to keep your attention. You had no desire to be there. Part of you wanted your phone to start buzzing, anything that would give you an excuse for you to leave, but the other part of you knew that something bad had to happen in order for you to leave. Every second that you stayed was costing you more money and less time being where you wanted to be.

“Hey, Y/N, put the phone away. This is your first night out in, like, years,” Molly tells you.

“Four years. Maybe five?” you guess.

“Six years, exactly,” she wrongly says, earning a disappointed head shake from you, a small ‘no’ escaping your lips that goes ignored as she takes your hand that’s holding the phone. “Can we please just enjoy tonight and have some fun? He’s going to be fine.”

You take in a deep breath, almost sure she was right about that. You hadn’t had a night to yourself in years, and Molly was also almost right that this was your first one in over four years. Actually, given the timeline, it was probably more like five. “But what if something happens?” you ask, the natural worry and constant fear you felt taking over your ability to just enjoy the night.

“If something, anything happens, you’ll be able to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, and I will go home with you to take care of it,” she reassures you, playing around with the settings on your phone. She hands it back to you, pulling you up from the table you had yet to move from in the first place. “He’s fine. He always is. Why don’t you request a song?”

“Because you keep telling me you hate my music.”

“Well, that’s because you have the same music taste as your sixty-something-year-old father when you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman.”

“You don’t even know how old I am? We’re the same age.” Molly rolls her eyes at you, dragging you up to the line of people to request songs, a book sitting there with the songs you could request. “They’re not going to have anything I like,” you tell her as the line behind you gets longer.

“Don’t you listen to that one guy?” she starts.

“That could mean anything. Have I told you lately that you are the most unhelpful person I know?” you snap at her, trying to find anything in your Spotify that you could request as the line got shorter and shorter in front of you. “What about this song?” you ask, your finger hovering over someone from one of your Daily Mixes. Molly looks over your shoulder at your phone, shaking her head at your song choice, and every song choice that you suggested. “I’m just going back to the table, you’re being impossible.”

Before she can protest, you turn around and head back to your table, sitting off to the side away from the rest of your friends, your eyes glued to your phone. At this point, you were praying that you would get a message from Rachel asking you to come home, telling you that something was wrong. Even something as simple as she had to leave unexpectedly so you could, too. Anything so that you could leave sooner rather than later.

“Sorry, but you really couldn’t find a song in that book?” you hear a guy's voice, tearing you away from the screen. He sits down next to you, not too close that it was uncomfortable but just close enough that you could smell his cologne, covering the smell of beer that had been lingering in the air around you. “There was some Aerosmith in there, I have a feeling that’s the closest to something you’d enjoy,” he says, smiling at you.

He must have been in the group that was in line behind you, hearing your conversation with Molly. Regardless, you smile back at him, something about his own being so infectious that you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. “Well, you’re right, but it depends on what Aerosmith song,” you respond, a hint of flirting in your voice.

“Is there a bad one?”

“No, but there are some superior ones,” you tell him, his eyebrow cocked as a sign to get you to explain. “Sweet Emotion is great but not as good as their cover of Come Together. Dream On and I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing are easily, in my opinion, their best songs.”

“Is that up for debate?”

“Oh, you think their most popular songs aren’t their best?”

“I think the one that’s about to play is one of their best,” the guy says, both of you pausing as there’s a lull in the music, the chatter and screaming of the bar’s drunk patrons overtaking everything.

“Just Push Play?” you ask, a smile on your face. It wasn’t one of their most well-known songs, but you still had to admit it was an underrated one.

The boy shrugs, a smirk on his face. “I might have requested it so you’ll have a reason to dance with me,” he flirts, getting up and extending his hand for you to join him.

You hesitate, unsure if you should get up with this mystery man standing in front of you. There was something about him that you couldn’t figure out. He looked young, probably younger than you but looks can be deceiving, nevertheless telling you that there was some sort of innocence or naivety to him, but the obviously fit physique under his clothing telling you that he could and would break your heart in a moment if he had to, the time leading up to that would be like nothing you had experienced before. You didn’t have time or the energy to spend on something you knew would lead to heartbreak, but you felt like you wanted to, like you had to. “I’m not sure I can dance with someone whose name I don’t even know.”

“I’m Trent,” he says, taking your hand and guiding you away from the table. You introduce yourself as his hands snake their way around your waist, holding you close enough that you could feel his heart starting to race against your own chest as your hands met the skin at the back of his neck, your fingers grazing along the collar of the back of his shirt, the two of you not moving at all in sync with the faster beat of the song. Not that you cared. There was something about this boy you were talking to talk to over the music that made you completely disregard the movement around you, forgetting about your phone and what was waiting for you at home for the first time in nearly five years.

You danced for what felt like forever, for what you wanted to last forever, every song passing you by as he listed out song after song that he recognized, most of them country as he claimed he had a country playlist that went on for seven hours, all of them involving him trying to sing bits and pieces of the lyrics off-key, every time pulling a laugh from you.

“I don’t know what I like more,” he starts, resting his forehead against yours as the space between the two of you disappeared, “the music they’re playing or your laugh.”

You roll your eyes, a smile on your face as the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Those lines usually don’t work on me.”

“But?” he asks, his lips ghosting yours.

“But from you, they do,” you tell him, planting your lips on his before he has the chance to say anything else. You didn’t know what it was about Trent; you were never the one to make the first move, you barely interacted with guys at this point since your life was permanently hectic. But Trent was something else. You don’t know what Trent was, you just knew he was different.

His hands were on your back, finding their way to your waist, his grip tightening when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You pull away, a pout on Trent’s face as you turn around to see Molly, waving your phone in your face. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Oh, shoot!” you squeal, taking your phone. “I’m sorry, I have to get home.”

A confused look covers Trent’s face. “Is your Uber going to turn into a pumpkin if you aren’t home, Cinderella?”

You laugh at his joke, going back to your table to grab your stuff. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, “But I really have to get home.”

“Let me walk you.”

You stop in your tracks as you were rushing out the door. You never brought a guy anywhere near your apartment, knowing that most of them would want to go in, most of them would want to sleep with you if you invited them, most of them would be gone by morning when they found out why you didn’t want them there in the first place. You don’t know why you knew Trent would be different. “No, you don’t have to,” you tell him, instead, even though you wish you could bring him home with you.

Before he can answer, someone calls out his name, pulling the two of you away from each other’s attention. “Trent, we’re leaving.”

Trent looks between you and his friend, the group of guys aggregating around him as they wait for his answer.

“You don’t have to,” you repeat, trying to get out the door because you had to.

“Jack, give me a minute,” Trent calls to his friends, “I want to,” he tells you, taking your arm, turning you towards him. The look in his eyes was sincere, begging you to let him walk you home. “Please?”

You let out a sigh, caving in even though you knew you shouldn’t. “Fine, yeah. Let’s go,” you tell him, taking his hand and leading him out of the bar, his friends left without an answer as they watched the two of you walk away.

Come Together

“I’ve had a really great night. Sorry about my friends, though” Trent apologizes to you again. He explained that he had gone out with them after their game that night, supposed to be spending their off-day tomorrow together, but Trent leaving with you had seemingly changed those plans. As the two of you walked and talked on the way back, his hand never left yours, from the time you left the bar to now standing outside your door. He pulls you in for another kiss, the worries of what was on the other side of the door melting away. You wanted to invite him in, but you weren’t sure if he would even want to once he found out.

Your door opens, Rachel stepping out. “Sorry, it’s almost curfew.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” you tell her, Trent confused by the girl sneaking out of your apartment. “That was Rachel. She’s my babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

You could feel your face twisting involuntarily at his question. You knew you should have told him before you got home, it would have been easier leaving him at the bar than watching him walk away from you outside your door. Why did you even let him walk you home in the first place? Because he’s hot and you’re dumb, that’s why. “I have a four-year-old son. If you wanted to leave, I would understand. Most guys do when I tell them about Ben,” you spit out, not making eye contact with him. You weren’t ashamed of your son, you just knew people your age got weirded out and panicked at the thought of the responsibility that came with having a child.

He tilts your head up, his eyes flicking between your own and your lips, a lazy smile on his face. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to stay?”

“If you’ll have me,” he says, kissing you yet again. You bring him inside, showing him Ben’s room first. The two of you stand in the doorway, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lean against the door frame. You feel him kiss the back of your head as you watch Ben wriggle in his sheets before settling down, you taking Trent’s hand and leading him down to your room. You tell him that you don’t want to do anything because of Ben being so close, Trent giving you a sweet smile, kissing you before settling next to you in bed. You had no idea why, but it all felt so domestic, so right that he was there with you in that moment.

“Can I ask you something?” his voice pierces the silence that had fallen between you.

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you mention Ben before?”

You swallow hard. You weren’t ashamed of having Ben, something you found yourself repeating in your mind every time you told a guy about your son. He was the best part of your life. Everything you did was for him. “We’re young. Being a single mom at our age has such a stigma around it. When guys find out, they normally bolt. I didn’t want you to until the last possible second.” You turn to him, still able to make out his features in the dark, the pout that was forming on his face visible without anything lighting him up.

“You could have told me before we got here,” he says, pain in his voice as he reaches for your face, the pad of his thumb gently grazing over your cheek. “I don’t care if you have a kid. I mean, I do, Ben is part of who you are. But, I would have understood. I understand. You shouldn’t be afraid of telling someone about that part of you. What I know about you so far is pretty amazing, I can only imagine what Ben brings to the table.”

“That seems weirdly out of character for what I know about you,” you tease him, pulling a smile from him.

“Well, maybe, but even a stopped clock is right twice a day, right?”

You kiss him, a feeling of relief washing over you at his words. The two of you spend the rest of the night telling each other about yourselves, keeping quiet for Ben, despite the amount of laughter you let you. You couldn’t remember the last time a guy made you feel so happy, falling asleep with a smile on your face, his arms wrapped around your waist as if that’s where they belonged.

You wake up the next morning, the sun shining into your room, but no Trent. You get out of bed, probably figuring that he had left in the middle of the night, trying to spare your feelings about you having a son. You understood. What guy really wants to get into a relationship with a single mom at this age?

You go to check on Ben, opening the door to his bedroom to find that he wasn’t in his room. You started to panic at the sight of his empty bed, unmade with his blankets in disarray. If Trent was gone, and Ben was gone, where could they be? He wouldn’t kidnap your son, would he? He was a professional athlete, that’s not something he would do, right? Your panic starts to recede when you hear laughter coming from the kitchen.

Trent is standing at the stove, spatula in hand with eggs cooking on the stove, a piece of bread held up to his face with holes bitten out of it where his eyes are, making Ben shriek with laughter. “Sorry. I heard him get up and I didn’t want to wake you, so I started making breakfast. Is that ok?”

You can’t help but smile, going over to Ben. “How’s he doing so far?”

“Mommy, look! French toast!” Ben says, pointing excitedly to the cut-up pieces of bread on his plate.

“French toast?” you repeat, your eyes wide to play along with his excitement. “Give me a bite,” you tell him, opening your mouth as he picks up a piece with his fingers, nearly missing your mouth. You hear Trent laugh, you not containing your own.

You go over to Trent, leaning into him as the two of you watch Ben eat the food Trent made. You feel him kiss the top of your head, his fingers dancing up and down along your arm. You look at his hand, a bandaid on the back of his hand. “What happened to you here?”

“Oh, oops,” he says, looking at his hand. “Got a little cut, but don’t worry, it’s not bad. Dr. Ben here fixed me right up,” he tells you, going over to Ben and ruffling his hair.

Trent hands you a plate of french toast and eggs, pouring you a cup of coffee, kissing you in front of Ben, who either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. No guy had ever stayed the night, let alone stayed and made breakfast for the two of you the next morning.

“So, what were you two talking about before I joined?” you ask, taking another bite of the French Toast. You already knew it was good from what Ben gave you, but you were still devouring it.

“Bears, boots, and battles of galaxias,” Ben lets out, his full mouth spraying crumbs everywhere.

“I’ve been trying to make sense of that all morning. I have no idea what he means. Why does that sound familiar?” Trent asks, sitting down next to you, his hand on your thigh under the table, sending a chill through your entire body as his fingers lazily traced an unknown pattern on your skin.

You take a sip of the coffee he had handed you, setting down your cup and putting your hand on top of his under the table. “He saw that one part of the Office, the identity theft cold opening, where Jim says, ‘Bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica?’ That’s how he remembered it,” you explain, Trent looking over to your son who was fixated on the food in front of him.

“Benny,” Trent calls him, your entire body going numb hearing him call him the same nickname you used for your son, “do you like bears?”

“Bears are the coolest!” he squeals. Everything he saw with a bear on it, he would start begging you to buy him, your heart breaking from the look on his face when you had to tell him no, we don’t need the kitchen towel just because it has a bear on it.

“Can you do your best bear impression for Mom and I?” You felt your heart skip at the sound of Trent calling referring to you as just ‘Mom’ instead of ‘your mom,’ like he was already part of the family. You didn’t even hear Ben growling, his best attempt at being the ‘scary’ Baby Bear that he was just laughing along with Trent.

“Hey, buddy, what if I called you Benny Bear from now on? Do you like that?” Trent asks, Ben nodding excitedly at his nickname.

“You’re nice,” Ben says to Trent while he clears his plate, Ben running off to go play.

You look at Trent, not able to help how you were beaming at him getting along so well with your son. It was like he belonged there with you, and with Ben, making his presence that much better. “That means he likes you.”

“Not trying to pry,” Trent starts, standing beside you at the sink while you wash the dishes, “But how often does he like the guys you bring home?”

You bite your bottom lip, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “I almost never bring guys home. And when I do, he generally doesn’t talk to them.”

“So he likes me,” he starts, getting closer to you as you nod your head. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away from the sink. “How about you?”

“That depends,” you flirt, stretching to turn the sink off before draping your arm on his shoulders, twirling his hair through your fingers at the nape of his neck, “do you like me?”

He lets out a small laugh, pulling you in for a kiss. “I do.”

“I like you, too. Help me finish cleaning up and then we’ll go watch Ben, ok?”

The two of you wash dishes in silence, weirdly domestic and comfortable considering you knew this boy all of twelve hours. “Can I ask you something?” Trent breaks the silence, just as he did the night before.

“Sure.”

“Where’s Ben’s dad?” You take in a deep breath, knowing that this would have come up eventually. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he continues, a wash of panic over his face at the thought of asking something too personal too soon.

You shake your head, smiling at him to try to calm him down. “No, no, that’s fine. Um, we were together when we were in college, but we broke up. I started feeling like shit so I went to the doctor and she told me, ‘Congrats! You’re two months pregnant!’”

“Does he know about Ben?” Trent asks quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, he does. I told him when I found out because I knew Ben was his. I told him that I was going to keep the baby and since we weren’t together anymore, he had the choice of either being present and helping out or if he didn’t want the responsibility, then that was fine, too.”

He didn’t know what about the way you were talking was making him feel this way. A lump in his throat was forming looking at your eyes start to shine with the threat of tears while you refused to make eye contact with him. You rarely talked about Ben’s father, making the decision a long time ago that he wasn’t worth your time thinking about since he didn’t want much to do with his own son. “And he didn’t?”

“He sends a present to Ben on his birthdays and Christmas, but other than that nothing really. I’m not even sure if Ben’s made the connection between the presents and his father yet. Like I said, though, I gave him the choice.”

“Do you regret anything?”

“I could never regret Ben or anything with him. I almost regret giving his father the choice, though. Being a parent isn’t easy, even if you have someone to take up half the work, but it’s even harder when it’s just you by yourself, you know? And I’ve gotten help, but it would be different if Ben had his dad as a constant in his life. Ben’s only seen him a few times, anyway. He calls him Andy instead of dad, and it’s just,” you stop, trying to find the word, “heartbreaking seems too severe, seeing him not acknowledge his dad as his dad, but what can you do?”

Trent didn’t know what to say. He was practically still a child himself when you really look at him. He couldn’t imagine having his own at this point in his life, let alone raising one on his own. “I’m sorry,” is all he can get out, trying not to cry even though he could hear Ben’s laughter ringing from the other room, sending a weird sense of joy through him at the same time.

“No, it’s fine. I would rather do this alone than do this with someone who didn’t want Ben to begin with. You can’t be a parent if you aren’t all in.”

He had no idea why, but he already felt so connected to Ben. There was no reason why, but he did. “I’m in.”

You turn back to him, shocked, confused, not even sure if you heard what he said properly. “What?”

“I’m in with you. With Ben. If you’ll let me. I want to see you again, keep seeing you. And that includes Ben. He already likes me, after all.” Trent was used to making snap decisions, on the ice, off the ice, wherever. He knew this was one, but this one felt like his best one.

“You don’t have to, you have your own life with hockey and everything,” you try to insist, cut off by Trent’s lips connecting with yours.

“I want to. Let’s go play with Ben.”

Angel

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask him for what was probably the millionth time, getting out of his car in front of the rink.

He runs around to get Ben out of his car seat, you grabbing the stuff he had stashed in the trunk. “Yes, I promise it is. The guys bring their kids all the time and they’re way younger than Ben.” He had invited you and Ben to the family skate the team was having, you reluctant to go since Ben had never been skating before. Naturally, you were worried he would get hurt, either by falling down or being curious about the skate and somehow cutting himself, something you were sure he would do if given the chance.

You two had been together for about a month, Ben falling head over heels for Trent, jumping up and down whenever he saw him on TV. Much to your dismay, Ben loved it when Trent was fighting, begging you to let him play hockey so he could fight just like Trent. You loved taking videos of his excitement despite that fear of him skating and fighting like Trent, sending them to him to see during the game, Trent always making sure to FaceTime you the next afternoon when you got home from work if you two couldn’t meet up so that he could talk to Ben. He was acting like the dad Ben never had.

And that was terrifying to you. The thought of you and Trent breaking up and him suddenly leaving Ben’s life was the reason why you never got close with a guy before. You didn’t want Ben to go through that. You didn’t want to go through that.

But there you were, sitting rinkside at the Garden as you tried to tie up the skates that Trent got for Ben, his feet swinging back and forth in excitement no matter how much you tried to get him to stop for a moment.

“Are you excited, Benny Bear?” Trent asks, picking him up and walking out to the ice.

“Yeah!” he says, squirming around and clearly ready to go.

You weren’t sure if you were more nervous about Ben being on the ice for the first time, Trent already showing him how to skate, or you formally meeting all his teammates for the first time, that night at the bar not really counting. The three of you step onto the ice, Ben in between you two, practically swinging in the air as you both held his hands while you skate.

“You’re nervous?” Trent asks, reading the expression on your face.

“They look like they didn’t know about Ben.” You saw the looks you were getting from the guys' families as you and Trent were skating around with Ben between you. You knew they were looks of confusion, but you couldn't help but think that they were the same looks when you went out with Ben in general, the societal disapproval of being a young mother, no ring on that finger to show that this was planned with another parent on the other side. People were judgemental; it was in their nature, but you were hoping Trent’s teammates were accepting like Trent had been.

“Um, I guess I didn’t tell them? I didn’t think I needed to,” he says, looking down at your son. Ben was beaming, not paying attention to what you two were talking about, not that he would probably understand it if he was. Trent didn’t think it would be a big deal to have your son around. The guys knew he was seeing you, but was it really that big a deal that you have Ben? He looks over at you, the scared look that was on your face worrying him. “We can just tell him he’s your nephew or your little brother?” he whispers so Ben doesn’t hear.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem to want them to know he’s your son?”

You stop skating, pulling Trent over to the side while holding onto Ben’s hand as he begs to pull away and take a lap on his own, something you weren’t going to let him do. “I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben,” you hiss at him.

“I’m not saying that you are. I’m just saying if you’re scared of what people would think we could just tell them something else.”

You look at him for a moment, trying to properly process his words. “Am I scared of what people think, or are you?”

He steps back, careful not to fall on whoever's kid was zooming past him at that moment, Ben begging to go skate with him. “Hey, Zach,” he calls Patrice’s son over. “If he takes Ben is that ok?”

You knew you shouldn’t say yes, but you didn’t need Ben hearing this conversation, no matter how oblivious he might have been to begin with. “If you trust him, fine.”

“Zach,” Trent starts, crouching down to their level, his hands on Ben’s shoulders so he can’t skate away before he’s done, “Can you take care of my guy Ben here? Make sure he doesn’t fall? Go skate to your dad.” Zach and Ben practically rush off with each other to Zach’s dad, eager to skate around and surprisingly good for their age. “What do you mean I’m scared?”

“Who’s the one suggesting that we don’t tell your teammates that Ben is my son? We’ve been out together when people ask if he’s my brother, my nephew, if I’m his nanny, and every single time you’ve seen me correct them. I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben. And to come here and have everyone giving us looks because they’re trying to figure out who he is to you makes it seem like you are. You couldn’t even tell the guys you claim are like your family about Ben. He’s not old enough for that hurt, but I am.”

He looks down at the ice, shuffling back and forth on his skates. “I’m sorry.”

You move closer to him, tempted to reach out and hold him. He looked just as hurt as you felt, part of you glad that he was actually showing he was sympathetic instead of just saying it. “Are you ashamed of Ben?”

His head snaps to you, a look of disbelief on his face. He starts shaking his head, the curls on his head that were loose enough going wild with his movement. “I’m crazy about that kid. I know why you aren’t ashamed of him because I don’t think I could ever be.” Trent turns around to find Ben on the ice, skating around with the other kids, some of the guys playing a small game with them, Ben with his own little stick. He watches Ben score on whoever was playing goalie, Ben shrieking with joy. Trent couldn’t help but smile, turning to you. “He means more to me than I thought someone else's child could.”

“Then why didn’t you tell them about Ben?” you ask him.

He shrugs, sticking out his bottom lip. “Because I’m dumb.”

You can’t help but laugh, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to pull him close to you. “Well, I do call you a stupid muppet,” you joke, earning a groan from him, “Hey, I say it with affection and you did say I could call you that.”

He cups your face and kisses you, momentarily forgetting his teammates and their families around you. “We could go tell them now?” he suggests, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Do you want to?”

Trent starts skating over to the rest of the guys, Ben giggling and playing with the rest of the kids. The two of you start talking to his teammates, introducing yourself to Jack and Jeremy, keeping your eye on Ben while he plays as you wait for Trent to finally say something about him.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben’s voice tears you two away from the conversation. “I’m you!” he yells, using the stick to try to shoot the puck, instead missing the puck and falling down on the ice. He was trying to process what just happened, hopefully not meaning to do what he did.

You look at Trent’s face, his teammates laughing while his face turned red. Ben shoots back up and starts skating again, Trent beaming at him. “That was cold,” he says to you, a smile on his face anyway.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” you tell him, squeezing his bicep before skating over to your son. You lift him up off the ice, thankful that he was still small enough to do that as you kiss his cheek and skate around with just him for a bit.

Trent couldn’t take his eyes off you, his teammates doing everything they could to try to peel his attention away from you. He watched you interact with Ben, the same light in your eyes when he looked at your son.

“Dude?” Jack finally succeeds in bringing Trent back down to Earth, “is that her brother?”

Trent shakes his head, turning back to you. “Nope, that’s her son.”

“Son? What are you thinking?” Jack asked. He knew what he meant. Trent was young. You were young. Having a kid was something real adults did, not whatever definition of adult he fell under.

Trent shrugs, watching you and Ben laugh and smile as you skated around, talking with some of the guys' girlfriends as they coo over Ben. “I’ve been better since I started seeing her.”

“You were fine before you started seeing her,” one of them mumbles.

He rolls his eyes, turning back to them. “Come on. I was fine but I wasn’t great. All I did was punch a few guys and get a couple of secondary assists. Even Butch said something about my play last game. Everything in my life is better with Y/N in it. And Ben.”

He didn’t hear what the guys were saying, and honestly, he didn’t care either. He loved your son, probably not as much as you did, but he felt like he was getting there. He wanted to get there.

Because he loved you.

Dream On

“Where are you?” Molly's voice comes through your phone, panicked and irritated. “I thought you were coming in today?”

“What are you talking about? Today’s my day off.” You were at home, sitting on the couch with the tv playing in the background while Ben played with his toys in front of you. It was one of the rare days that you could spend from the time you woke up until you went to sleep with your son, and you had no real intention of changing those plans, which is what it sounded like Molly was going to ask you to do.

“Well, you know that funding we secured for that new project?”

“Yeah?” you say, Ben coming up to you, trying to show you something. “Hold on, Benny. What’s going on, Mol?”

“They’re getting cold feet.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, we need you here. You and DeAndre were the ones who got them in the first place, and he’s already here. Please?”

You take in a deep breath, trying to figure out if anyone is free to watch Ben. You couldn’t bring him in and have him running around the office while you were trying to convince a major investor to give you the money promised. “I have to find a babysitter but I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you sigh, wracking your brain as to who would be free. Rachel couldn’t typically do weekends, but maybe she could if you promised to pay her extra? But then there was the issue of: did you have the money to pay her extra?

You start scrolling through your contacts, trying to figure out if anyone in there would be able to watch your son, running into your room to get changed to look at least a little presentable.

Trent’s name pops up, calling you with what you hoped would be somewhat perfect timing. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” you answer, your phone on your bed as you try to find something to wear.

“What am I looking at?”

“I’m changing for work and my phone is on my bed, so the ceiling.”

“I thought it was your day off?” he asks as you throw what seemed to be the only clean work shirt that you could find. You knew you were forgetting to do something today, now you realized it was laundry.

“Molly called saying that I need to go in and now I have to find someone to watch Ben or else I’m going to have to bring him in with me, which doesn’t seem like a good idea. And most of my friends are from work or have their own lives and can’t watch him, Rachel can’t do weekends, but I guess I could ask her if she has any friends who could watch him last minute.”

“Y/N.”

“But then I have to pay them and since it’s so last minute I would need to give them more money, right?”

“Y/N.”

“I guess I could, but I think I would also have to pay for meals, and then I have no idea what time I’m going to get home, and whenever that is I’m going to have to do laundry, and-”

“Hey. Earth to Y/N. I can watch him,” Trent finally cuts you off long enough to get a word in.

You were hesitant; Trent had never been left alone with Ben, and probably never left alone with a four-year-old ever by your assumptions. “No, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” you tell him, picking up your phone to see him.

“I’m serious! You just said you need a babysitter, I was going to ask if I could come over and see you before the road trip, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, biting your lip. Did you trust Trent enough to let him watch and take care of Ben? If you could trust Rachel, a girl who still had a curfew and couldn’t even drive her friends in the same car as her, why couldn’t you trust your boyfriend?

“Of course!” he says, clearly getting up and walking around what you think was his apartment. “I’m leaving right now, I’ll be there in ten.”

He hangs up and leaves you to finish getting ready, hurrying through trying to make yourself look presentable and finding the stuff that you needed. You couldn’t find your work bag, or your computer, mentally cursing yourself for the one time you didn’t leave it in your closet like you normally did.

“Hey, Benny? Have you seen Mommy’s computer and bag?” you go into your living room to where you left Ben. He shakes his head, his overall attention not leaving whichever toy he was fixated on. “Great,” you mutter under your breath, trying to find it. “Ben, how about you and I play a game?” you ask him, getting down in front of him. “If you can help me find my blue bag and my computer, someone really special will come over tonight!”

Ben gets up and starts looking for you, hoping that you can find it before Trent actually gets to your place. “Mommy! I found it!” Ben comes running to you, your bag nearly as big as him as he struggles to carry it to you.

You take it from him, kissing his head as he goes running off, a knock at your door just in time. Opening it, you see Trent on the other side, a bag in his hand. Kissing him hello, you tell him, “I owe you big time.”

“We can discuss payment when you get home. And I have some ideas as to how you could pay me,” he says, bringing you in for a kiss.

“Trent!” Ben runs over, interrupting.

Trent practically launches himself off you, picking up Ben and hugging him while your son’s laughter and happiness fill your home. “Benny Bear!” He gives Ben the bag, telling him to open it.

“A bear!” Ben jumps up and down with the small stuffed animal that Trent had gotten him.

“What does a bear say?” Trent asks, both of them going, “grrrrr,” with their hands curled like claws, their faces scrunched. You felt yourself melting at the sight of Trent getting along so well with Ben, your son running around in circles with his new toy that he would probably say is his favorite since it came from Trent.

“Did you buy him a Benny Bear?” you gush, bringing him in for a hug.

“I saw it when I was on the road and had to get it for the little guy.”

“You love him,” you tell him, not needing to ask since you already knew what his answer would be if you did.

“Of course. But you have to get to work,” he tells you, pushing you off him.

“I’ll pay you for whatever you get for dinner, order what you want, within reason for him.”

“You don’t have to pay me back, and I’ll make sure to get him lots of candy,” he jokes, earning a look from you. “I’m joking,” he says, throwing his hands up in defense. “Go, go to work. I’ve got this.”

“If you need anything call me, or even one of the guys who have kids. If you trust them, I’ll trust them.” You kiss him again, yell goodbye to your son and remind him to behave for Trent. You were nervous about leaving Ben alone with him, but if you wanted to be serious about this guy, you had to do it at some point, right?

You close the door, leaving Ben and Trent alone on the other side as you try to think about how you and DeAndre can now keep your investors from pulling money, practically running down the hall so that you can get to your car.

Trent turns around, Ben already sitting back down on the floor and playing away with his toys. He had no idea how to watch a four-year-old. He takes in a deep breath, sitting on the ground with Ben, his back leaning up against your couch. “Alright, Benny, what do you want to do?”

Ben hands Trent a toy, starting to ramble on about whatever magical world he’s conjured up that Trent was no part of. He had no idea what he was doing, trying to follow along with your son’s imagination as best as he could.

Trent didn’t know how you did it. Ben was a ball of energy all the time, and at home seemed to be no exception. Trent was chasing him around as they played ‘Bear catcher,’ which Trent wasn’t really sure the rules of in the first place, just following around your four-year-old through your apartment while he sprinted, jumped, hid, crawled, and did every other action that Trent felt too old for.

Ben finally sits down and focuses on the tv when he hears some song coming from it, the first moments that Trent can sit down as well, hoisting himself onto the cushions. His phone starts buzzing, a call from Jack coming in. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?” Jack’s voice comes through the phone as Ben gets up again, starting to run around with the bear Trent bought him.

“I’m watching Ben.”

“Since when are you a babysitter?” Jack asks, judgment dripping in his voice.

“Since Y/N needed a babysitter and I was free.” Ben climbs up on the couch and starts jumping, Trent suddenly feeling a wash of panic over him at the thought of Ben falling and getting hurt. Jack starts saying something that Trent knew he didn’t want to hear anyway, giving him the perfect excuse to cut him off. “Hey, Ben, you’ve gotta be careful. Sorry, dude, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

He hangs up before Jack can get another word in. “Hey, Benny. Mom said we could order dinner,” he says, pulling Ben into his lap in hopes that he would calm down long enough so he could talk to him. Ben squirms as his energy never seems to stop, Trent doing everything he can to try to figure this out. “What sounds good to you?”

“Ice cream!”

Trent lets out a small laugh, Ben’s face glowing at the thought of ice cream for dinner. “No, bud, you can’t have ice cream for dinner.”

“Ice cream! Ice cream!” Ben wriggles free of Trent’s grasp, repeating the phrase over and over again as he sets off running around again.

Trent was way in over his head. He didn’t think that Ben would have this much energy for this long. Whenever he was with you, it was either during the day and Ben stayed relatively calm, or when you were playing, he had you to help counteract and keep Ben from being the seemingly crazy child that he was right now. He could call you and ask what to do, but from how you sounded on the phone and when he came over, you were way too stressed out to also have to worry about Ben at that moment. He could call one of his teammates who actually knew what they were doing when it came to child care, but Jack’s words from the family skate practically haunted him. He wasn’t in too over his head when he was with you, or when he was with you and Ben. But just Ben? Not going too well.

“Benny Bear, come here,” Trent says, reaching out to catch Ben as he runs by the couch. “How about, we get something else to eat, and if you eat all of it, I’ll get you ice cream?” he asks, making a mental note to at least text you to ask if it was ok that he have it. Ben nods his head since Trent technically said he could have ice cream. “What do you want?”

“Mac and cheese!”

“What about,” he starts, pulling out his phone. “Some chicken fingers?” Something told him cheese and ice cream wasn’t going to end well for Ben’s stomach that night, and by default, it wasn’t going to end well for Trent, either.

Ben nods, going back off and running around the room. He had to tire out at some point, right?

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Trent calling you to make sure his dinner plans were ok.

“Hey, Ben said he wanted ice cream, but I told him only if he eats his dinner, and I had to make sure it was alright with you, first.”

“What did you settle on?”

“Chicken fingers?”

He hears someone calling your name in the background, you yelling something back to them in panic. “Yeah, there might be some in the freezer? If not, just tell him that the ice cream fairy is coming later and he can have it tomorrow, or something. There are also some carrots in the fridge, too. Tell him he has to eat some of those if he wants ice cream, even if I don’t have any. Have some with him, pretend they’re spaceships, and play with them before you eat them, that normally distracts him long enough.”

“That works?”

“Trent, he’s four. Most things like that do.” He hears more yelling from your end, Ben coming zooming by him yet again, nearly tripping over Trent’s feet. “I’ve gotta run. Love you, bye.”

You hang up before Trent can react. You hadn’t told each other that you loved the other yet. He knew he loved you, but he didn’t know if you loved him back. But you just said it, and he didn’t even know if you meant it since you said it in such a hurried context. He hoped you meant it. He can’t even focus while he’s ordering dinner, not really sure what he was having other than the carrots you mentioned were in the fridge.

Trent just sits there while he waits for the food to arrive, getting the carrots out and trying to see if there was anything close to ice cream, or even yogurt that he could throw in the freezer for Ben while he continues to zoom around your apartment. “Hey, Benny, look!” he says, holding up the carrots. “Spaceships!”

This felt like he was talking to a dog, which seemed weird, but at this rate, Ben was tiring him out so fast he didn’t know what to do. He and Ben start playing with the carrots, watching your son eat what was in front of him when the doorbell rang for food.

Ben keeps playing with food, something Trent thought you probably wouldn’t like too much, but at this point, he didn’t know if he should care. He had no idea how you did this. There was no way Ben had this much energy every night, right? He had never seen you exhausted, so Ben couldn’t be a ball of energy all the time. At least, that’s what he convinced himself as he sat there eating his food.

Eventually, Ben goes to sleep, Trent helping get him ready for bed and tucking him in. You had texted that you weren’t sure when you were going to be home, but Trent was free to stay the night instead of driving back home regardless of what time you would be back, something he gladly took you up on.

Trent finally settles down after finding a pair of sweats he left at your place a while ago, collapsing onto the couch in complete exhaustion from Ben’s running.

“Trent?” he hears Ben’s small voice coming from down the hall, pulling Trent away from the trance he fell in trying to stay awake until you got home. “Trent!”

He runs down the hall at the sound of the increased panic in your son’s voice, not sure what he was supposed to expect when he practically burst through his bedroom door. “Buddy, what’s wrong?”

Ben was breathing heavily when Trent got close to his bed, clutching his sheets to his chest, “I had a bad dream.”

Trent sits down on Ben’s bed, a sad smile on his face. “Ah, Benny, it’s all over now. You’re safe.” Ben nods his head, a terrified look still on his face. He pulls Ben in for a hug, kissing the top of his head, Ben’s small arms wrapping around Trent’s own. “How about I read you a story to help you fall asleep?”

Ben nods, jumping out of bed and getting a book for Trent. “Goodnight Lab?” Trent reads, a confused look on his face.

“Mommy likes science,” Ben offers as his explanation.

“Of course she does,” he says, opening the book, putting his arm around your son as Ben cuddles up against Trent’s chest. “In the great green lab, there was a laser, and a lab notebook, and a picture of Einstein with a stern look,” he starts, already seeing Ben’s eyes getting heavy.

You finally get back home, seeing the light on, no one in the living room. Wandering through your apartment, you hear Trent’s voice coming from Ben’s room, finding him there with your son, him asleep against Trent’s chest as he whispers the end of the book to him, “Goodnight liquid nitrogen, goodnight compressed air, goodnight scientists everywhere.”

You stand in the doorway, Trent not noticing you as he slips himself from Ben, your son curling up with his blankets. Trent bends down to kiss him on the head, tiptoeing out of the room.

“Hi,” you whisper, closing Ben’s door behind you, giving Trent a kiss hello. “What was that?”

“He had a nightmare, so I read him a story to calm him down and get him back to sleep,” he explains.

“That’s so sweet of you,” you tell him, leading him down the hall to your room.

He shrugs, closing the door behind you. “My mom used to do it for me and my siblings. I always told myself that I would do it for my son or daughter.” You don’t know what to say, just pulling him in for a kiss, down on your bed. He pulls away, a smile on his face, “Oh, and I love you too,” he tells you, hoping that Ben didn’t wake up and hear what you two were about to do next.

Sweet Emotion

“Happy birthday, Benny!” Trent says, taking a video of your son as he blew out the candle on the small cupcake in front of him. Your son’s fifth birthday was spent out with Trent, starting with him making breakfast again, taking the two of you to the park and Boston Commons as he played with Ben the entire time, out to dinner where you were now, treating you the entire way. Ben didn't even care about the gift that you had gotten from Andy, something he had previously looked forward to every year. Ben was starting to see Trent as a father figure, something that was both terrifying and exciting to you.

If Trent, for whatever reason, stopped wanting to be part of your life, that would mean he would also probably leave Ben’s, a boy who already didn’t know his father and didn’t seem to want to know him. But he wanted to know Trent, he loved Trent, and you knew Trent loved him, too. You were just afraid he would fall out of love.

Ben was giggling as Trent smashed part of the cupcake against his nose, the bright red frosting making him look like Rudolph as he tried, and failed, to lick it off himself.

“Did you get that part, too?” you ask Trent, leaning over to see his screen.

“Yeah, I’ll send it to you. Do you mind if I post it to my private story? Some of the guys and their wives would go crazy for this.”

“Only the private one,” you tell him, laughing as you turn to Ben to see his face more of a mess than before, the red frosting now spread to his cheeks, “Benny, what happened?”

“I’m painting,” he says, using his finger to smear the frosting on his face.

Trent can’t help but laugh, you pulling Ben in for a hug. Trent snaps a picture of you kissing the frosting off his face. “Wait a sec,” he says, calling over a waiter to take a picture of the three of you, both of you kissing Ben’s cheek as he beams at the camera.

You see him set his phone down, notifications lighting the screen up as you guys get ready to leave, the picture of the three of you his new phone background.

The next morning, Trent had morning skate before needing to get ready for their game that night. The last game before the All-Star Weekend marking the halfway point of the season was always both nerve-wracking and exciting, the hypothetical of ‘if the season ended today, would you be in or out of the playoffs?’ always on everyone’s mind even though it meant virtually nothing, but still wanting to stay at one of the top spots in the league regardless.

“Hey, what was with that story yesterday?” Jack asks him after practice.

“It was Ben’s birthday,” he shrugs.

“Isn’t it weird?” Zach asks. “She has a kid. She’s a mom. You aren’t a dad.”

“I never said I was his dad,” he defends himself, starting to take on a hostile tone.

“Well, you’re acting like his dad, aren’t you?”

Trent rolls his eyes as his only response. What was he supposed to do? Ignore that you have a child? Trent gets up to leave, Jack now standing in front of him to stop him.

“You’re with them all the time. You watch him when Y/N is busy. You brought them to family skate. You know his favorite toys, his favorite tv shows, you facetime them every night before the game because he’s going to be asleep by the time the game is over. You’re not his dad,” Jack lists to Trent, Trent getting more angry with every word that comes from his friend.

“What am I supposed to do? Pretend that Ben isn’t part of her life? Pretend that she has no kid? I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.”

“It’s messing with you, Trent!” Jack yells, the rest of the remaining guys getting quiet. “You don’t do this. You don’t date a girl who has a child and play ‘house’ with her. You’re the guy who just fucks around and has fun. Where did he go?”

“I can’t change? I can’t settle down because I wasn’t settled before?” Trent responds, knowing that his face was bright red, “I love Y/N, and I love Ben. I don’t care if you think it’s ‘not normal.’ It’s what I want and you don’t really get a say in that.” Jack stands there, stunned by his friends' words, still struggling to find them as Trent grabs his bag and walks out of the room to go home before the game.

He wanted to call you and talk about it with you, but what was he going to say? ‘The guys think my dating you is weird since you have a son?’ The flash of your expression appeared in his mind when you realized the guys didn’t know about Ben at family skate, the pain he knew you felt when you thought he was ashamed of Ben. He wasn’t then and he isn’t now.

But what was he doing? Jack was right: he wasn’t Ben’s dad. He could never really be Ben’s dad. Why did your son mean so much to him if he had no relation to the child in the first place?

Why did he have to say he was all in? He was supposed to be focusing on himself and his hockey, not a girl he met at a bar and pouring all his excess energy into you and your son. What was he supposed to do? Pull back? Pull you away from your son? There was no way that was going to be an option, and there was no way that was an option he wanted to follow.

He was supposed to be following his normal pre-game traditions and routines, not having his mind run rampant over the thought of you and Ben and what his teammates think.

He pulls out his phone, a notification from Instagram telling him that you had responded to his story a few hours ago while he was at practice. Trent opens it, seeing the picture of Ben, looking so happy with the cupcake that was all his, the red frosting seconds from being smeared all over his face. Trent didn’t think about being a dad anytime soon. He really never had any intention of settling down, at least not yet, not seriously, yet there he was, thinking of Ben like his own son, head over heels for you and your son.

It was too much, wasn’t it?

His phone started buzzing with texts from the guys to make sure that he was ok after they watched his and Jack’s blow up in the locker room. Trent didn’t even care about them at this point, knowing that he should at least answer them even just to tell them to leave him alone for the time being.

But what if they were right? Jack’s words kept ringing through his head, that he was just a guy who had fun because that’s what he wanted, not a guy who settled down with a girlfriend, and especially not a guy who settled down with a girl who had a toddler.

He spent the entire time he was supposed to be taking a nap going back and forth between whether or not he was in too deep or if he was fine because he was in love. The night he met you, he had never intended to get this far in with you. He had just wanted to hook up, the reason he went home with you in the first place. But as soon as you told him about Ben, seeing the crushed look on your face at the prospect of him leaving because of your son, he knew that he couldn’t just be one and done. There was something about you and Ben that he had to be part of it once he was introduced, that part of his life that he never knew was missing until he realized he couldn’t picture his life without you.

And it was just too much.

Attitude Adjustment

Trent finally gets to the Garden, not even remembering who they were playing that night. He couldn’t think about anyone else, almost tempted to tell Bruce that he was sick so he could be a late scratch instead of letting this mess with him. Because no matter what he did, he couldn’t get out of his head and focus. The music that he normally played before a game wasn’t working, even so much as trying to close his eyes and picture being on the ice while he was in the locker room before the game.

No one approached him while he was in his stall, probably out of fear of another outburst from him. He wasn’t even paying attention when Bergeron gave his traditional pre-game motivational speech before they all went out to the ice, Trent skating around by himself in hopes of being able to focus before they played the Flames that night.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he hears someone say, not even noticing who came up to him in the first place.

He looks at Brad, suddenly thankful that there was someone on the team who knew what he was going through. “Katrina already had Sloane when you two met, right?”

“Y/N and Ben on your mind?”

“You were in the locker room after practice.”

The two of them skate around their half of the ice, the time before the game ticking down. “When you date a woman, when any two people date, there’s always going to be something that can get in the way and potentially break you up. That includes their family, their kids if they have them. You need to decide if you want to let Ben break you and Y/N up or if you’re going to take him in and not let him do that.”

The guys were migrating back to the bench, Brad still on the ice for the starting lineup. “It worked for you, though,” Trent says, hanging back as long as he could, his eyes darting back and forth between the clock and his teammate.

Brad shrugs, looking out to the blue line where Bergeron and Pastrnak were already waiting. “I don’t see Sloane as any less of my son than I see Sawyer as my daughter. It worked for me. If you want it to work for you, then you have to make it work.”

The buzzer sounds, Bruce yelling for Trent to get off the ice and onto the bench. Did he want this to work with you and Ben? What the three of you had was already great, but Trent had barely spent any time with you, a time when you and he could just be a couple without worry of anyone else.

Trent’s line goes out on the ice, his mind still occupied as he skates. The puck touches his stick, him making a mad dash towards the Flames net, only to get tangled up with Tkachuk, sending Trent to the ice. He doesn’t get up for a minute, trying to process what happened, an easy shot and probably goal just messed up, leading to a breakaway to the other end to put the Flames up 1-0 against the Bruins.

By the time he can finally get himself up, Bruce is yelling at him that if he messes up like that again then he’s benched the rest of the game, definitely not a good look going into the All-Star break. He gets back out on the ice, the same thing happening with him tripping on a breakaway, this time over himself instead of a Flame, again leading to them scoring and putting them up 2-0. He couldn’t get out of his head. Trent sat there the entire time, not even focusing on the game, not focusing on the comeback his own team had to win the game 4-3.

He didn’t talk to anyone in the locker room, rushing out as soon as he could to go home, hearing Brad’s voice carry through the hallway to the elevators as he explained what he knew about the situation, no doubt that Jack offered his own remarks that Trent was sure would have lead to them fighting right there.

He had never wanted to fight one of his teammates over shit they said before, let alone one of his best friends. Other guys on other teams? Sure. But Jack?

Trent gets into his car, his phone already blowing up, asking him if he had still wanted to come on the trip to Puerto Rico he and the guys had planned with their girlfriends a while back. He had completely forgotten about the trip, no one even mentioning it for the longest time, not even sure that it was actually booked by anyone.

What surprised him most was Jack asking in the group if you were going to come with them, followed by a separate text saying that he meant it, that he wanted you to come.

Maybe this is what you and Trent needed; a trip with the guys, the two of you able to spend some time alone and just be with each other without the constant worry of someone or something else. He texted back that he would be there, not sure about you yet.

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Ben’s coming through the background. Hearing him made Trent hesitate, swallowing hard.”Trent?”

“Yeah, uh,” he swallows again, “Sorry, um, mind if I stop by for a few minutes?”

You sit up from the couch, looking at the mess you didn’t even realize Ben had created during the game. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you soon?” you say, hearing him start up his car.

“Yeah, awesome,” he says, hanging up before either of you could say anything else, practically speeding out of the Garden as fast as he could to get to you. The more he thought about it, the more excited he was about spending a week with you.

“Hey, Benny, guess who’s coming over soon?” you put on a cheery voice, crouching down to the floor where Ben was playing with his toys.

Your toddler started bouncing up and down, his arms waving around in excitement. “Trent?” he squeals.

“He should be here any minute, help me pick up some of your toys, ok?”

You and Ben start to scramble to pick everything up. You knew Trent wouldn’t normally care if there were toys on the ground, but there was something about the tone of his voice when he called to tell you that he was stopping by that worried you.

You had watched the game, you weren’t stupid that he had had an awful game, thankful that it was an earlier evening game that Ben could watch with you. Even he was upset when Trent fell, both times, getting benched and hearing Jack and Brick speculate what was up with one of their favorite players.

Ben continued to buzz around as you waited, thankful that he couldn’t sense the anxiety that was building up while waiting for Trent. You hear him knocking on the door, getting up while Ben seems to be oblivious to the sound. You smile when you see him, mirroring his own expression, the complete opposite of what you expected given the conversation you had minutes ago.

“I have something to ask you,” he starts, his hands on your waist as he starts walking you backward down the hall, seemingly toward your bedroom.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben comes up to the two of you, bouncing up and down, Trent's hands releasing their grip on you. “Are you coming on Friday?” Ben asks him, referencing his concert at school that Trent had promised to come to.

You saw the smile on Trent’s face fade at Ben’s words, a nervous look taking over as he knelt down to look Ben in the eye. “I really want to see your concert, buddy, but I’m not sure if I can make it. I’m gonna try, though, ok?” he tries to save face when he sees the crushed look on your son’s face.

Ben nods, not understanding what Trent was really saying to him. In his world, Trent saying he wasn’t sure meant he didn’t want to see him sing with his other classmates. “Um, Ben, why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit, ok?” you ask him, guiding him to his room, watching him run down the hall. You turn to your boyfriend, clearly confused by what he just told Ben. “It’s the All-Star break, what came up?”

“The guys and I are going away for the break, and I want you to come with me.”

“What are you talking about? You said you were staying here?” you ask him, praying that Ben doesn’t come out of his room and couldn’t hear any of this.

“I know, I know, but, come on, things change,” he says, taking your hand and trying to lead back down your hallway.

“Wait, Trent, come on,” you stop him, turning him around to face you. “You want Ben and I to come with you on a trip with the guys? What guys, where are you going?”

His expression drops again, “I was kinda hoping it would just be me and you.”

“And where would Ben be? I can’t just leave him alone. I can’t go away with you.”

“But, Y/N, come on,” he whines. “This could be so good for us. A few days, just you and me, no distractions, nothing stopping us from just being together, like a real couple.”

“Distractions? A real couple? Trent, what the,” you stop, realizing you were standing right outside of Ben’s door. You look between Trent and the door, Trent’s pleading expression as you take him down the hall, practically slamming the door to your own bedroom. “What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss.

He sits on your bed, you still standing, towering over him. He puts his hands in his face, letting out a deep breath. “I’m,” he starts, “I just want time where it’s you and me. Other than that night at the bar, we almost never have had more than a few hours when you and I are alone. I need to get out of Boston for a bit, and I don’t want anyone with me beside you.”

“Trent, I can’t,” you protest, sitting down next to him.

“Yes, please, just say, yes.”

“No, Trent. You aren’t hearing what I’m saying.”

“I am, I just-”

“Ok, then you aren’t listening! I can’t just drop everything on a moment’s notice and go off with you on a vacation. I have a kid, and if you haven’t noticed, I can’t exactly afford a babysitter for more than two nights in a row, let alone watching him all day every day for an entire week.”

“Don’t worry, I can pay for one, I just need to get out of here, and I need you with me.”

“Trent, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Ben can stay with a sitter.”

“Don’t you get it? Ben comes first. Ben has to come first. When it comes to a decision between you and Ben, or anyone and Ben, my choice is always Ben. There is never a case when I’ll pick something or someone over him, especially not going on some trip with you and your frat boy-like teammates because you’re upset you had one bad game. I choose him every single time. Especially over you, Trent.”

“What about Ben’s father? Can’t he stay with Andy?”

You can’t help but gasp, hurt by what you thought Trent meant. “You mean the father that didn’t want him? I. Told you. This,” you say, standing up again, “Andy wants nothing to do with Ben. And right now it seems like neither do you.” You could feel the tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, turning around and heading out of your room. You couldn’t look at him. You had no idea where you were going to go, given that you had Ben in his room and couldn’t leave him.

“Y/N, please, I’m sorry,” he runs after you, stopping you before you reached the door. “I just want a few days, where it’s you and me. Where everything is easy for us. Where there’s nothing, no one, besides you and me.”

“This isn’t supposed to be easy. You knew it wasn’t going to be so why are you so shocked that this is how it is?” you tell him, the tears finally falling.

The two of you stand there for a minute, Trent starting to reach for you a few times before running his hands through his hair. “It’s me and Ben, or neither of us,” you give him an ultimatum. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, wishing he can find the words. “Fine. If you can’t make the decision, I will. Get out.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“No. If you have to think about it, then you aren’t ‘all in,’” you call back to the morning after you two met. “Because if you were, you wouldn’t have to think about it.”

Trent doesn’t say another word, pushing past you and leaving you there.

You press your back against the door, letting out a silent sob so that Ben can’t hear you. This was exactly what you were afraid of, wiping the tears from your face and peeling yourself off the door. You walk down the hall, hoping that Ben wouldn’t notice the redness that was probably in your eyes from crying, opening his door.

“Where’s Trent?” Ben asked, handing you a toy of his when you sit down on his floor with him.

You swallow hard, not sure what to really tell him. “He had to go, Benny,” you say, running your hand on his hair, pulling him close to kiss the top of his head.

“When’s he coming back, Mommy?”

You put on a fake smile for him, not wanting to let him know when you really thought Trent would be back. “I don’t know, sweetie. Not this week.”

I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

You hadn’t checked anyone’s story on Instagram since last night, sitting on the metal chairs in the middle of the day, surrounded by parents much older than you, figuring now was probably the only time you hate the chance.

You tap through them, some stories from friends from college, random celebrities that you followed. You finally get to Jack’s story from last night. They were in Puerto Rico, in some dark restaurant. Zach and Jeremy were dancing, Jack behind the camera. In the corner, you could see Trent sitting at a table, looking miserable. He sees Jack with his camera, shakes his head and storms off. You replay the story, Jack’s shaking making you think that he was saying something and turning the sound on low, holding the phone to your ear. You could hear the music more than anything else, sounds of Zach, Jeremy, and Jack’s laughter breaking through after one of them said something inaudible. Trent must have gotten up at that point, because you hear Jack yell, “Oh, Trent! Come on, man! Have some fun!”

You go to Trent’s profile, hoping that he had posted anything. The last photo he has posted was of the two of you, him strategically cropping out Ben because you had asked him to. It was from Ben’s birthday, outside the restaurant. He had captioned it, ‘Spent the day with my two favorite people, Bear not shown.’

Ben’s preschool teacher gets up on the stage, the high-pitched whispers of the four- and five-year-olds starting by the back door as Ms. Barry introduces the class, all of them walking up in a line to the stage. They start waving to their parents, Ben waving to you as everyone, including you, has their phone out waving back and recording the moment. The children start singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’ their pixie-like voices filling the auditorium, all slightly out of key and slightly out of sync with each other. Towards the end of the song, you notice Ben starting to jump up and down, anxious over something he saw towards the back of the auditorium, as did some of the other children. You figured it was nothing, none of the other parents turning around to look at what it was either.

They go onto their next song, one you weren’t paying attention to, nor did you recognize it. Ben was no less antsy than he was before, waving again with the biggest smile on his face. It had to be someone.

You turn around, Trent leaning against the back wall, one hand in his pocket while the other was waving to Ben. All of his attention was on Ben. You turn back in your seat, shocked that he was there. He was supposed to be in Puerto Rico.

You put your bag on the seat, the mom next to you promising to watch it. You sneak back to Trent, not sure what to say to him. You turn to Ben, giving him the thumbs up and a single finger to tell him that you were going to be back in a second, feeling bad that you were leaving your so. Ben jumps up and down, nodding and continuing to sing.

You grab Trent, pulling him out of the room and into the small hallway. “What are you doing here? You were in Puerto Rico last night; I saw you on Jack’s story.”

He looks down at his feet, biting his bottom lip. “I couldn’t be there knowing you and Ben were here.”

“That’s not what you said when you wanted to go.”

He nods, looking up at you for a second before his eyes flick back down to his feet. “I told you I was dumb.”

“So why are you here then?”

“I told you when we first met that I was all in. I can’t be all in if I’m not here.”

“So?”

He takes a step closer to you, hesitating for a moment. “So. I don’t want to miss anything with you, or with Ben.” You don’t know what came over you, kissing him outside your son’s concert the way you did. You can hear the parents start to cheer, signaling that the concert was finished. Trent pulls away, your foreheads pressed against each other. He smiles before stealing a kiss again, pulling you back inside.

Ben comes running up to you, giggling with his arms open. “Trent!”

“Benny Bear!” he responds, crouching down with his arms open, hugging Ben when he came in contact. He picks him up, kissing him on the cheek, your hand on Trent’s back.

“You came! You’re back!” Ben squeals, burying his face in Trent’s shoulder.

“Back and here to stay,” he says to you, giving you a quick kiss before putting Ben down, getting your bag, and going home.

#trent frederic #trent frederic imagines #boston bruins #bruins imagines #boston bruins imagines #bruins #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #aerosmith fic

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jujywrites · 4 years ago

Text

Always Falling Down, part I

This was part of a rarepair gift exchange. mricj and I got matched because sometimes u CAN manifest what u want for urself~~~

This is Rosawatts for sure, but also very poly, very id-ficcy and very long (just under 7k....). with a small part 2 pending because WE BUILT THIS SHIP WE SAIL IT HOWEVER WE WANT oh and a playlist (click plz~)

PS: the plotbunny emerged from "i thought you (loved me)" by livj707. One of my top 10 TTM fics and the rest of them are in there too!

AO3

FF.net

or keep reading

(Part II here)

~~~~~

~We hold on to the good times and the right now and the long nights~

Can you hear when I say "I have never felt this way"? (I can't see you and me and her without each other)

Roxie

You were 8 or 9 when you realized that you responded to people’s emotions in an unusual way. Your mom’s anger made you feel like there was a small fire in your belly, no matter the amount or what the anger was directed at. Her joy when hummingbirds visited the garden you both made to attract them made you feel invincible. When she felt sad, everything looked gray.

So what, you thought. She was your mother; of course you’d be attuned to her mood. The same with the rest of your family. But there was a slight wrinkle in that logic— you sensed the emotions of your friends at school, and that affected you similarly, if with less intensity.

Soon after realizing that, though, came the realization that even friends of friends, even complete strangers, had emotional signals that you picked up without trying. You brought this up with one of your dad’s sisters (one of your favorite family members, were you ever pressed to admit it), because you couldn’t quite stomach having your mom worry about you. You were pretty sure what happened to you wasn’t normal.

Your aunt introduced you to the term empath, said her wife had the same ability that you did. She taught you ways to handle the side effects (as she put it), how to channel and control it, to some extent. Even with this, though, things got more complicated as you grew older. People’s emotions got louder.

The maelstrom this caused in you was nigh unbearable and (luckily?) manifested itself as stereotypical moody teenage behavior, when you weren’t wrestling with the attendant physical ailments. That led you to what’s turned out to be a lifelong interest in astronomy and stargazing. Or more accurately, it increased your at-the-time budding interest exponentially. Others’ emotions couldn’t sink their hooks into you, not when your mind was buried in a book or when you were alone outside on a clear warm night. Stargazing served as meditation, too, and slowly you gained a better grasp on this whole empath thing.

That was how you met Neil. He lived in another school district; somehow both of you claimed a little park in town as a prime stargazing spot. He said his gramps took him gazing every summer, and Neil found he wanted to do it more often than that. You didn’t know much about him besides that and some shows and video games he was into, but that was hardly a deterrent to your talking a blue streak in the rare times when both of you were done watching the sky. You talked about your hobbies, how school went, how your little brother was doing, what music you were obsessing over. You told him everything except your biggest secret, and even though he didn’t always acknowledge it all, you could feel he took it all in. He was the first person who had ever done that.

Then he moved away with hardly a goodbye, and that was that. You remember feeling hurt and sad for longer than a day, maybe a week or two, but time has worn away the memories of how you felt. College, of course, was the next big chapter in your life, when your present-day reputation for being bubbly and carefree developed. That had always been with you; college life simply made you turn it up to eleven, a coping mechanism of sorts in navigating the world as an empath.

Strange how the peace you found back then has led you right back to that feelings maelstrom, into the difficulty of parsing what belongs to you and what doesn’t.

You didn’t see Neil until you got to SigCorp, at which point all the moments he was in your periphery during training slapped you across the face, along with hazy childhood memories.

“You’re Roxie, right?”

And all the years without him collapsed together. Maybe you didn’t see much of each other, but your friendship still easily restarted, helped along by your shared sphere of work.

You’d say he’s your best friend, if you were asked.

Meeting Eva was a different kind of slap.

You could count the number of crushes you had on one hand, your relationships on six fingers. You hadn’t felt love yet.

You fell fast and hard for Eva. Then you got back up, and cut that off quicker than breathing, because no way would someone as cool, collected and straight-laced as her would ever be interested in you. (Plus, you had no idea if she was queer and that’s not something to ask someone you just met.)

And then there was Neil.

The two of them had capital-h History, obvious from the moment you saw them together. If anyone knew how much time you spend thinking about your friends’ relationship, the effort you put into trying to push them together, how much time recently you’ve invested in worry (especially over Eva, but Neil too) you’d get therapist recommendations at the very least—

It’s not just wishful thinking. Your empathy gives you a sixth sense as to which people are meant for each other, and/or are dealing with feelings towards each other (which also gave you a leg up in office gossip). And Neil and Eva fit so well; that’s why they were paired together, why you convinced Rob they should be a team, despite how much you liked working with her. Not that he needed convincing. That’s how obvious their compatibility was. And yes, this was despite their bickering (and Neil’s pranks on his partner).

What drew you to Rob, as a colleague and as a person, and helped you decide to permanently partner with him, is how quiet his emotions are. He’s hardly unfeeling, despite what others (like Neil) might say. No, it’s just that his emotions are blissfully subtle. Sometimes when you feel them flare up it’s like a gift.

His emotions toward you aren’t subtle, not these days. And sometimes you feel terrible for relying on him as much as you do. But that’s another thing.

Eva

The cases that go wrong from the beginning are always easier on you than the ones that go wrong when you’re so close to closing them out. Talking to loved ones afterwards is the common denominator, the same intensity of pain no matter what went wrong when. But you’ve grown used to that pain, used to letting it glance off your skin because this is your job, and perfection is impossible.

You thought you had, anyway. The case you failed barely twenty minutes ago, the one from which you’re walking to the car with Neil now, found a chink in your armor. A stupid rookie-level mistake that both of you believed you’d fixed came back to bite you; you almost didn’t log out of the machine before your client flatlined. You owned up to it, the client’s brother took a swing at Neil and tried at you, and the only reason you’re both out of there alive is the brother’s wife calming him down.

There’s still paperwork to finish. You did the bare minimum before getting the hell away from that place. And Neil has one whopper of a black eye that he’s too bullheaded to do anything about, because he had a spare pair of glasses and that makes everything just fine.

In the car, the practically-visible wall between you and Neil is even more unbearable given the post-case mood, and it makes you feel sick. This is far from the first case you’ve failed, with or without him. Hell, it’s not even the first case involving bodily harm directed at either of you. It still feels like the last straw. But you’re not going to quit, you tell yourself. Someone has to keep fighting.

Neil may have stopped trying, but there’s nothing stopping you from fighting enough for you both.

Robert

For the most part, you’re an analytical person. You’re able to compartmentalize your thoughts from your emotions, and often able to see past others' emotions to what might be eliciting them. And that’s why your work at Sigmund fits you so well, why you chose memory traversal over being a tech, as much as machines in general and Sigmund’s in specific interest you.

Your personality and Roxie’s make you an excellent team. Even though her default mode is happy-go-lucky, you’ve been partners long enough to know that she’s the kind of person who can feel everything, all at once, and weather it. That talent must have always been there, under the surface; it’s probably what drew you to her in the first place.

Being able to compartmentalize, however, only gets you so far. You’re hardly immune to base emotions, yours or others’. You get frustrated when you know something is wrong, someone’s having a problem, and that your clear-headed distance from the situation isn’t helping fix it.

Watts and Rosalene, one of your best teams, one of the best you’ve ever seen since you joined Sigmund, have been backsliding for some time. Their ratio of completed cases to failed ones is still good (and they’ve had some brilliant successes), but their previous case was a failure and the mood leading up to their next one is not promising, to say the least. They’ve had innumerable rough patches, no question, but even you can tell there’s a good bit of the personal getting muddled with the professional in this patch. You’re in the unenviable position of having to monitor them, getting closer to explaining to the higher-ups why they are still viable.

Viable. What a cold word. Makes you clammy to think of it in reference to your colleagues. Your almost-friends. It’s... bothersome, to see them fracturing, or whatever less-ominous thing might be happening.

On top of that, there’s something off about Roxie. A dimming of her natural light. The only other time that’s happened is when her brother got sick; he’d been in dire straits before he recovered, and the recovery had been hard.

You know this because Roxie told you. You seem to be good at listening. If only you weren’t abysmal at asking. Not that Watts— Neil— would divulge anything, and Rosalene— Eva— seems even less likely to.

You’d ask Roxie but with her, you’re terrified of not knowing what to say.

Neil

You could’ve decked that guy. Definitely could have. For once it isn’t braggadocio— the things he said about you and Eva made you see red. He telegraphed really badly too, so you could sidestep him (he was like two feet taller than you and you aren’t a total idiot), but taking a swing at Eva?! Good thing the guy’s wife stepped in or things would’ve gotten even more fucked. Because of you and for you.

Of course, with the adrenaline gone, your mutual antisocial...ness, toward each other (what? You can’t word when you’re tired) rushes in to fill the vacuum. It’s frigid out too, which is great. And your face kind of—

“Ah, fuck me,” you mutter as your piece-of-crap company car decides to break down in the middle of an empty road.

Eva sighs epically. Her breath clouds. “Shit.”

Ha, she legit swore.

Your momentary amusement is bulldozed by the inconvenient need to talk. The second you’re alone alone with her, in lulls before or after cases, in downtime at the office, the words bubble up in your throat, more insistent every time. And every time you try to open your mouth, they disappear. It’s been like this for weeks, ever since The Incident.

She found the not-from-Sigmund company letter. She found the (other) pills. Unlocked door or not, you haven’t forgiven her for the breach of privacy. She hasn’t forgiven you for keeping (those kinds of) secrets from her. And here you are now.

You don’t know how much more you can take.

Eva speaks before you can get your voice working. “I’m calling Roxie.”

“How?” Flipping open your phone, you glare at it. “No reception out here.”

“We passed a payphone on the way here. Shouldn’t be more than a 5 minute walk.”

You just gape at her while she bundles up in her scarf and hood. “It’s minus fifty!”

Her eyes meet yours for half a second. “Don’t exaggerate, Neil. Not tonight.”

And, predictably useless, you watch her get out of the car and start walking, snowflakes shining around her in the dimming headlights.

Roxie

One of the things about being an empath is, it’s easier to tell when someone’s romantically interested in you. (Too bad there’s no one-night-stand-interest sensor.) That feeling has a certain color to it, distinguishing it from friendship or dislike. And it’s the reason why you haven’t dated much. Every time you’ve felt it, it’s been like a flipped switch, a lightning bolt, leaving you unprepared and uncomfortable every time. Sometimes it’s been because you don’t return their feelings, sometimes because you need a few days to adjust to the idea. Even with one of the ones you liked back (a post-college roommate, because you may be an empath but that doesn’t exempt you from so-called clichés), it petered out eventually when you didn’t fit together anymore.

With Rob, it’s different. So subtle you don’t realize right away. And so soft it’s easy to lean into and pretend you don’t quite know how he feels, keep your already intimate friendship separate from that other kind of intimacy.

You like him. Want to like him as more than a friend, the way he likes you. If you could only let go of your ridiculous double crush.

There’s only so much room a heart should have, anyway.

Eva

The incongruity of using payphones hits whenever you have to use one, which thankfully is extremely rare. You’ve learned the hard way to keep a small stash of quarters within easy reach on cases, whether they’re located in the boonies or not. Even with gloves on, your hands are so cold that there’s a lot of fumbling involved in getting them into the machine, more fumbling while you pull up Roxie’s contact info on your phone. Not that you need to; you’ve got it memorized. She’s picked you up more than once.

It hits you square between the eyes this time, so you can’t ignore it: Roxie’s been like emotional glue, from back when you were a greenhorn changing partners every couple of weeks to now. She was the constant for you back then, and then became your tech specialist for a hefty amount of cases until you got paired with Neil. She’s patched things up several times when you wanted to strangle him, by talking you down, or being a mediator, or just listening to you rant. And since tonight is turning into one giant negative thought spiral, you get stuck on how much emotional support you’ve taken from her without giving anything back, alike or different. After this, well, you have to come up with something. A restaurant gift card? Ice cream from that new place down the road from yours? Why is food the only thing you can think of? True, food has meaning, but you sh—

“Hello?”

“Roxie. It’s me. Eva.”

“Hey! What’s up?”

“Hope I didn’t wake you,” you say on automatic. Nope, she’s probably—

“Nah, binging a few Shadow Junction episodes before hitting the hay,” she replies with a giggle.

Over this line, the brief silence is crackly. “I need a favor. Our car died on us…”

“Oh my god wait, you just finished a case!” There’s some scuffling and a small thump; when she speaks again her voice is closer. She must have taken you off speaker. “Where are you? I’ll pick you up ASAP.”

You give her a handful of landmarks, the compass direction. With the dark, the gathering snow, your barely-held-back exhaustion, you're starting to think you might be back in the simulation.

Your hands hurt. At least they still have feeling.

“There’s a storm coming, isn't there? Are you okay?”

“Tired. Cold. But, yeah, okay.”

“Hey, Eva?” Hearing your name wakes you up a little; the weight in Roxie’s tone wakes you up more. “I’ll call a tow for you on the way, but do me a favor and don’t hang up.”

“Sure,” you whisper.

She chatters about the latest plot developments on Shadow Junction for a few minutes; you feel like you're absorbing some of the energy in her voice. Then she says, “I’m getting on the highway now,” and then she says, slightly more subdued, “Do you want to tell me about your case?”

Nope. “It went badly, that’s all.”

More crackly silence. Then: “I know I’m repeating myself, Eva, but… are you okay?”

I’m fine.

I’ll be fine when I’m back home.

I’m used to this. It’s fine.

You say, “I think I’m losing Neil.”

The metal of the phone booth bites into your hand even through the glove. “I… found some things I shouldn’t have.” Roxie can keep secrets, contrary to her reputation. This one shouldn’t be her burden, and so you don’t share what you found. “He’s been conflicted about what we do for a while. I think he might be trying to leave Sigmund. And that’s his prerogative, but I just—”

You trained together, joined Sigmund together, starting planning to join Sigmund together. It’s been an enormous part of both your lives, and now you’ve been a team almost as long as your dream to be a part of this company existed. If Neil walks away, what will you have left?

Roxie. Robert. The McMillans. Eddie, Lisa, Logan. You won’t be alone, and you still have your purpose to guide you. But...

You were so certain you’d see that purpose through with Neil at your side, you don’t see how it would possibly be the same. How you could be the same. Sure puts a dent in your faith that you’re your own person.

You can’t simply ask him to stay. Some small irrational part of your brain thinks bringing up the subject at all will make it come to pass. And those pills. If he does leave, if Sigmund is part of his will too, what if—

You wipe at your wet cheeks and nose. “He’s my partner. I need to fix this, and I don’t— I don’t fucking know how.”

Your voice doesn’t sound nearly as broken as you feel.

Robert

It’s another night of Roxie on your couch, eating takeout from your favorite place and watching a movie together. Neither of you have defined your relationship. You’re fine with that, and you think she is too. And yet...

“Roxanne, I—” You love her, have for a long time now. But you’ve seen how she looks at Eva, and at Neil, and you know she doesn’t have room for you right now, don’t know if she ever will.

You had a chance. You realized your feelings for her well before she fell in love with them (or at least before she began to show signs). The obstacles were too many: she’s half your age, you work together but are sort-of kind-of boss and subordinate. All true. All excuses, too, because you weren’t brave (stupid) enough to take that chance.

But she’s come to you for comfort, and you aren’t an asshole; you won’t deny her that because she has a different measure of your relationship. You love her. You would care for her even without that.

Then she kisses you, and she says, “I’m sorry,” and curls up against you.

Roxie

You’re making a mistake, and you don’t care.

You needed that kiss. It soothed these pangs, this hollowness that’s grown over the past few weeks from whatever is going on between Eva and Neil. And the way Rob’s emotions have started to swirl feels dangerous. Addictive. You want more of that, the power to make his emotions dance with one touch.

It’s getting harder to ignore the voice calling you an awful person.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest. “I know, in every rule book ever made, that I’m leading you on. But I’m not trying to! I’m so sorry. I…” You swallow, sudden clarity hurting your throat. “I think I want to be with you. But, Neil and Eva…”

Saying their names brings fog back over you, reddened by wine. “I can’t explain it,” you whisper, arms around his shoulders. “I can’t... decide.”

You can’t give Rob what he deserves, what you finally know you want to give him, if you can’t make your mind up.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Despite the uncertainty you can practically taste, it feels like a promise. He holds you tighter, and you let yourself sink into him.

Neil

You’re tired, exhausted, and that makes your brain go all overdramatic, but even with that you’re pretty sure this is the shittiest night of your life. You can’t talk to Eva, and she won’t talk to you, and now you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere trying not to freeze to death, watching her freeze to death while she waits for Roxie to rescue both of you from freezing to death. The least you could do is stand by Eva and suffer with her. Then again, maybe she’d rather turn into an Evasicle in peace right now.

You resent how much this case haunts you. You resent even more your inability to walk away from Sigmund and from Eva. They wouldn’t care, but she (probably) would. Does. You wish that didn’t matter so much to you. It shouldn’t anymore, after what she did. The one time you don’t lock your office door. Like a goddamn house of cards. If she’d told you right after instead of sitting on it for a few days, making you wonder what the hell was wrong with her…

You’re such a hypocrite, with all the secrets you’ve kept and keep.

Everything feels gray. Heavy. Tunnel vision, maybe, from the cold and your lack of sleep. Stepping out into the wind chill would probably help you stay awake at this point, except you’re not so far gone as to actually follow through on that.

Eva’s left the phone booth and is standing in the snow, hood blown off from the wind, and she’s too bullheaded to pull it back up. You stare at her hair streaming out, your eyes grow blurry from snowflakes, and your thoughts drift back to distant nights spent with a talkative girl who shared your love of stars.

Roxie

You’re up late at home, watching the Shadow Junction episodes in your queue, when Eva calls you, voice tinny over a payphone. You can’t sense emotions tangibly without being in person, but her and Neil’s voices have a similar effect on you regardless, by now.

You talk with her until you’re on the road.

Something’s wrong besides their dead car, and Eva reveals the tip of the iceberg. You’re relieved. Your instinct hasn’t yet devolved into paranoia.

“He’s my partner. I need to fix this, and I don’t— I don’t fucking know how.”

The turnoff to where they are is coming up. “I can’t imagine how that must feel,” you say into your head mic. A white (gray?) lie. Her pain is making it hard for you to breathe. “But I’m getting you back to the office, and we’ll go from there. One step at a time. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

You call the tow place as soon as you end her call. After that, things blur together until your car meets theirs.

The snow hasn’t stuck; it’s the light, fluffy kind that would be nice in another time and place. You can see Eva and Neil hunkered down in their seats.

You can’t get out of your car fast enough.

Eva’s first to get out once you reach them. She hugs you, and, yeah, you could probably die happy now. You’re such a mess.

“Thank god for you, Rox. Seriously.”

You’re such a mess. Neil’s relief nearly makes your knees crumple with its warmth, but there are... layers to it. Those layers and the ever-present knot of worry in your stomach keep you alert. Besides, it’s not (won’t ever be) the time or place to let them know everything you’re feeling. So you smile past your shivers and wave off his comment. “No problem. Of course I’ll bail you guys out of this weather!” Then you force your offer of a ride back out of lungs tightened with the fear that they’ll know what lies behind it. “Brought you some cider. Blankets too. To thaw you out for the paperwork, y’know.”

They accept. Of course they do; they don’t have a choice. If either of them suspect anything they aren’t showing it and dear god you are so overthinking this. “Tow truck should be here any minute, if you don’t mind waiting a bit longer.”

“You have heat in your car. That’s all I care about,” says Neil, and Eva says, “A few minutes more doesn’t matter.”

Then she puts her hand on his elbow as they walk the short way to your car, and all your stupid mushy probably-touch-starved brain can think is, there’s hope.

They settle in the back instead of splitting up over the passenger seat, and dumb hope unfurls further in your chest. You waste no time in unfolding blankets and handing them each a thermos. Eva acknowledges with a grateful smile, and you pretend not to notice how Neil flinches when you drape the blanket over him. You ignore the flashing burn when your hands meet their bodies, ignore how fast your heart is beating.

You have a plan, even though it’s a selfish one.

Eva

Roxie still believes her bright shiny mask is impenetrable, but you know her better than she thinks you do; something is worrying her. A lot. And here she is, practically saving both of your lives, and trying to hide it so you don’t feel any worse—

You’re faced with the sudden urge to kiss her.

She’s been a shoulder to lean on, a friend, a good friend. Why did this feeling burst through now? Did the weight of what you and Neil failed to do, the weight of what you know and what he’s not telling you, crack and cause this shift?

(What would she think if you tried?)

You push the urge away, but feel it beaming through when you take your first sip of cider.

Maybe in another life.

Robert

Roxie’s on the verge of breaking, and you can’t do one thing to help.

She stands by you, thermos in hand, while she waits for Eva and Neil to tie up some legalities and gather what they need. At this hour, the offices are silent to the point of suffocation. Having these three around is reminiscent of oxygen. Even so:

"I was really scared, you know?" she says, smiling, eyes painfully bright. "All I knew was I had to get them. So I did. They’ve been dealing with something tough and I couldn't ask them even though I wanted to and they were nearly hypothermic, Rob!" The noise that comes out of her is a shrill mockery of laughter. "So after they're done here, we're going back to my place. All of us. I don't want them to sleep alone. I'll hogtie Neil if I have to, I swear to god.”

There’s nothing you can say, so you just nod. And then you realize: there is something you can do.

You want Roxie to yourself, of course; most one-sided relationships are likely that selfish. You want her to be happy even more than that. So you excuse yourself to the bathroom, and then double back to the offices and poke through Eva’s ajar door, knocking on the jamb.

They’re both in there, which makes it easier for you. Neil’s already got a file folder stuffed with papers in his arms (which he nearly drops upon seeing you). You also notice the overnight bag next to him, and that Eva’s looking over hers.

(Of course. The weekend’s coming up. You should get your bag too.) That’ll make it easier for Roxie.

You’re also worried about them, so this isn’t only for Roxie’s sake. Eva looks like a shell of herself, and Neil’s posture seems to indicate he’s in pain.

“What’s up, Bob?” Neil plops the file folder into his bag. “We taking too long or something?”

You shake your head. “Take the time you need. I heard from Roxie tonight’s case didn't end well, so I thought I should check in.”

“We’re as all right as we can be,” Eva says, zipping up her bag. “And anyway, we’re done here.”

She stops when you don’t move from the doorway.

“She’s really worried about you two. I don’t know any details, but… go easy on her. She means well even when she’s overbearing.”

You turn and head back to the lobby, feeling overheated.

Neil

Roxie seems like a supernova in the frozen night (and if you weren’t half-frozen you'd be slapping yourself for your dumb metaphorical thoughts), and that light is enough, combined with Eva’s presence, to propel you into Roxie’s car.

You flinch because, somehow, her brief touch feels like it unlocks all your secrets. Ridiculous, because Eva got there first and you really hardly know Roxie.

The paperwork is second nature. You and Eva go to your respective offices; you squint as if that’ll make your handwriting look any less blurry (okay, guess your glasses need cleaning); at the last second you grab your overnight bag, and instead of heading back to the lobby you gravitate to Eva’s office and stand there like a dumbass while she finishes up.

You thump your bag on the floor. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she says without turning around.

You busy yourself with organizing your papers. But every so often you glance at her, and when you see she’s going through her overnight bag the urge to ask if she wants to stay at your place, or if you can stay at hers, is overpowering. Don’t ask, don’t— “Do you—”

There’s a knock, and of all people Rob’s standing there, as if tonight isn’t freaky enough. Still. Saved by the Bobert bell.

What he says, along with the sheer incongruity of his presence, knocks you out of your numbness for a few minutes. “Jeez,” you say once he leaves as fast as he came by, “he’s really got it bad for her, doesn’t he?”

A barely-heard whisper in your mind hisses, You should know.

She’s wearing an indecipherable expression. “I suppose so.”

It all makes slightly more sense when you get back to the lobby. Before you or Eva can open your mouths, Roxie’s talking.

“It’s been a really bad night for you two. I’ve been there, you don’t have to tell me anything, and... I won’t ask. But I’ve got a spare room and a couch at my place and you should take advantage of that for the night. I’ve already convinced Rob, and I won’t bother any of you, a-a-and I really think it’s for the best so, so please…”

As exposed as you’re feeling, you can see the appeal of staying at her place. It’s closer than yours, and yeah, okay, your brain cannot handle the logistics of dropping off and heading home. Besides, it’s pretty uncomfortable how upset she seems (even if it’s just about her sinking ship, har), and if this makes her feel better, well. You don’t know what’s going on, feel like you haven’t for hours, but you’re with people you know and who know you, even though they don’t know everything. There’s something to be said for having friends in the same line of work.

This rift between you and Eva hurts far more than you can admit to yourself, never mind anyone else. And even though Roxanne and Rob have no idea what’s happened, happening, between you two, them being with you feels like a bulwark holding back any further damage.

Maybe they might even help fix what’s broken.

Roxie could, maybesomehowsomeway. She seems like that kind of person, the kind who wants to fix people’s issues and is good at it, though who the hell knows where you got that impression. She’s standing closer, an arm’s length— a fact you only realize when she reaches up and takes off your glasses.

Roxie

You didn’t notice how close you’d gotten to Neil and Eva while you were talking, or that you’d been moving at all, until a shadow near Neil’s eyebrow catches your attention. At that instant, your accidental proximity doesn’t matter. Your heart stops for a split second. “Neil, your eye!”

“What about my—”

You remove his glasses. Eva gasps, like it’s A Bad Thing you just did (and okay, you can’t remember ever seeing his eyes before), and you can even sense Rob standing protectively close behind you. “Holy schnikes, Neil!” His right eye is nearly swollen shut, the bruise radiating nearly to his temple on that side and nearly across his nose on the other. “What happened?”

A tidal wave of guilt from Eva makes the room wobble, but Rob catches you.

“Sorry, more tired than I thought,” you say to their combined are you okays. Your nervous smile lands on Rob, who doesn’t look convinced. Still, he helps you upright silently.

Neil squints at you with his good eye. “What do you mean ‘what happened?’”

How can he not know? “It’s totally black??” You look from Neil to Eva and back, panic surfacing slowly. “It’s barely open??? Doesn’t it hurt?????”

Eva sighs, pulls a hand mirror from her bag, and holds it in front of him.

A pause.

“Huh,” he finally says. “Guess that explains why it’s a little harder to see.”

“Our client’s brother punched him.” Eva rubs at the bridge of her nose.

“He did not—”

“He said he was fine, but I thought he was just shrugging it off. I didn’t know he didn’t know! Don’t you remember your glasses broke?”

“He was huge! I dodged him easy! I…” Neil digs through his pockets indignantly for a few moments, then stops. “I don’t have my spare pair. Which… means that those…”

“Are your spare pair,” you finish gently, handing them back to him. “Neil, I think you might have a concussion.”

“Well, shit,” he says, at the same time Eva says, “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“That settles it.” You step back a couple paces, reluctantly. “You’re definitely coming back with me. I have ice and I have some bruise cream that’s pure magic, I swear.”

Neil huffs. “I already said I would.”

“You only thought it because I didn’t hear you.” You eke out a grin. “I’m not a mind-reader, you know!”

“Okay, well, this is my official yes let’s crash at your pad agreement.”

“Heard and acknowledged!”

Putting her bag over her shoulder, Eva says, “Then let’s go,” and leads the way to the elevators.

She and Neil take the backseat again, leaving Rob to sit in the passenger seat. Now that you’ve executed your plan, you seem to have lost whatever energy you had left.

The silence that falls, though, feels comforting instead of stifling.

~~~

The first step through your front door pulls a deep sigh out of you. Rob, Eva, and Neil’s various flavors of tension decrease slightly.

“I’m just gonna… stop for a minute.” So saying, Neil plops onto the floor in front of your stupid-huge couch.

“Sit wherever you like,” you say as you go to the kitchen for an ice pack.

You’re glad you turned the room into something slightly more presentable, even when you weren’t expecting three people to come by— cleaned up junky desserts from the coffee table, put pillows back, et cetera. You wrap a hand towel around the ice pack and bring it back to Neil, telling him to use light pressure. “I’ll go get the supplies.”

As soon as you flick on your bathroom light and see yourself in the mirror, your throat tightens with the need to cry. A few gasping sobs come out of you but, “Okay okay okay,” you whimper, clutching the sink rim, they’re here, you got them, you’ve made them safe now. “Get it together. Snap the hell out of it. You’ve got a job to do.”

You gather everything you think you need and then go back over it: disposable gloves, the arnica bruise cream, antiseptic wipes, washcloth, cup of warm water, 8-hour painkiller/swelling reducer. Then you splash off and dry your face, finagle all of it into your arms, and get back out there.

Neil’s made it onto your couch, probably because Eva’s sitting there now. She’s on his left. There’s space for you between them.

You’re friends. Colleagues. You’ve all been through highs and lows working at Sigmund, in parallel with each other. They can’t read your mind.

You unload your supplies onto the coffee table and take the seat.

Eva lets out a breath.

“Sorry for grabbing your glasses,” you say to Neil as you put on the gloves.

“Eh. Extenuating circumstances.” He shrugs. Takes them off. “‘Kay, do your worst.”

“I’ll be as careful as I can. First, these.” You hold up the wipe pack. “Your skin’s not broken so it shouldn’t sting, but I’ll make sure any excess is gone anyway. Oh—” You grab the pain pills. “Take these first, actually. I can get you water.”

“I have my own… water,” he mumbles, digging through his bag and retrieving a bottle. “Thanks.”

Once he’s taken the pills, you run the wipe all around the bruise, holding your breath while you dab at his closed eye. “Don’t move.” You wet the washcloth then and apply that, making sure no residue stays to get into his eye. That would suck.

“Okay, move if you need to. Magic cream’s the last thing!” You hold it up with a flourish. “Never had to use it on something this, uh,” you fumble for the word, “extensive, but I promise it’ll help.”

“Who died and made you Florence Nightingale?” he said with a chuckle.

You pause in the middle of daubing cream on your finger. “Who?”

“It’s an old reference. Really old. Like, my gramps knew the history, that’s how old.”

“Early 20th century nurse, I believe,” Rob says in a musing tone. “Founded the profession.”

“You’re almost as old as him, so you don’t count.”

“She opened the first nursing school, too,” says Eva.

“And you’re a nerd so you also don’t count.”

“She sounds pretty cool,” you say quietly; you’re close to Neil’s face again, applying the cream from the outside of the bruise in. “Glad someone’s remembering her, still.”

You don’t even notice the silence fall, you’re concentrating so hard.

Neil holds his breath this time when you put the tiniest amount of cream on and around his eyelids, using the barest pressure to rub it in and still wincing in his place.

You’re very close to him. Your hand tingles. Whatever’s charging the atmosphere is impossible to analyze.

“Um. All done.” You pull your hand away, look away, throw the glove into the little trash can under the table.

“Rox?”

You look back at him and try to breathe evenly.

“Just… thanks. For all this. And…” He leans forward to catch Eva’s gaze. “...sorry I got my head bashed in and forgot about it.”

“We should get that checked out tomorrow.” Her voice is worn, but her eyes are soft.

Your worry changes form in that instant, from low-key constancy in your veins to the choking kind of worry that comes from realizing you love them, are in love with them, your best friends who are in love with each other and either don’t know or can’t admit it. They certainly don’t have the room to accept your feelings.

You’ve known this for long enough; it’s hardly a revelation. But something about tonight has crystallized your feelings, made them impossible to bury. Now you know the origin of the physical ache that’s been dogging you for weeks, to the point of becoming a second skin, and you desperately wish you could do anything to ease Neil and Eva’s pain as much for yourself as for them. You just squeeze Neil’s hand, pretend Eva taking yours doesn’t stop your heart, and stare at Robert who graciously doesn’t stare back.

You nod, because you don’t trust your voice. But then you speak anyway. “We’re a team. Mismatched as we may be. We gotta stick together, you know?”

Looking at them both, you see Eva smile, and even Neil has a tiny flash of one when he says, “The four musketeers, or something?”

“Close enough.” Robert, soft, as he eases onto the couch next to Eva.

“No, exactly. One for all, and…” You swallow, looking at Neil, wishing so hard for Eva’s sake. “And all for one.”

Your hands left Eva’s and Neil’s to settle on the couch minutes ago, but now, almost synchronized, their hands cover yours again.

Every ounce of tension rushes out of you, in spite of the fact that your brain is in red alert mode, your heart’s beating fast enough it hurts, and heat’s flashing through you from head to toe.

Maybe one day you’ll tell Neil and Eva everything you feel. Maybe one day you’ll share your biggest secret with all three of them. But for now, all that matters is that you’re all together, safe for tonight, warm and dry. All that matters is the others’ emotions are blending into a shared, soft calm, that you’re almost, just about, being held by them. All that matters is that you all have each other.

For once in a long while, your mind is quiet.

#JujYwrites #SiqSquare #To the Moon #Finding Paradise #Rosawatts #Winlin #so. much. PINING

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

gold coloured prisms of light, chapter two (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 4922

AN: Thank you SO so much for all the sweet feedback on the first chapter! This fic is absolutely becoming one of my favourites to write, and I am so glad that you all are enjoying it so far, it makes me so happy. I made a playlist for this fic too, if music is your thing. Listen here. Writ is the best beta <33

Brock is nineteen and his friend Emily from ballet school is putting her makeup on his face and he’s never been more excited about Halloween in his life.

He writes to Jose on his forearm while Emily dusts blush on his cheeks, hoping that she doesn’t notice.

I’m dressing up in drag for Halloween

Me too!!!

WHAT

YEAH

Show me your look I wanna see

Not yet I’m doing my makeup

Brock remembers Jose mentioning his new job at Mac, seeing the pictures he’s sent of his makeup looks that make him look even more ethereal than he already is. He wishes that Jose could be here now, be the one to do his makeup.

Emily tosses Brock a dress, tells him to try it on and sure, Brock still has a shadow on his face and his jaw is big even under his wig but he looks-

Good.

He could get used to dressing up in drag.

His phone buzzes because Jose’s sent a picture, and Brock gasps because Jose looks like a woman. Granted, Brock’s perception of what women are actually like is a bit warped, having gone to the gay village with his friends to watch drag queens too many a time after reaching the legal drinking age, but Jose looks like one. Better than the ones he’s seen.

Wow

You look amazing

THANKS

Now show me yours

No I don’t look as good as you

Yes you do I bet

So Brock sends one, because he can never really say no to Jose for long.

OMG

You look SO TALL

A whole ass model

Do not

You’re just trying to make me feel better

Lemme do your makeup next time

It tugs on Brock’s heart, because he wishes there was a way that Jose actually could.

Brock is twenty six and on a date with a guy and he’s absolutely bored stiff.

Because the guy is not Jose.

They’d agreed to date around a little bit, to explore a few years back. To see what other guys were like (even though Brock knows Jose is the one), just to be sure, until they’re in the same place.

Besides, they have forever in front of them, right?

But Brock’s never really found any of them interesting, connected with any. He finds more and more that he sleeps with them and is inevitably disappointed, waking up the next morning to doodle on his side until Jose wakes up and replies, too.

He never texts any of the guys back, never goes on a second date. It feels disloyal, somehow, even though he knows that Jose is probably doing the same thing.

He tries not to think about Jose kissing someone else, or sleeping with someone else.

He ends the date without so much as a kiss goodbye, already pulling out a Sharpie from his coat pocket on the walk back to his apartment. He barely gets the cap of the marker off before his phone buzzes.

“There’s a pageant in Georgia that I want you to do.” His drag mom’s voice crackles on the other end of the line, Farrah always wanting to push him, wanting him to try more.

“A plane ticket’s going to be expensive.” Brock bites his lip. He’s been picking up part time jobs during the day to fund his drag, after stopping ballet because his tired and worn body can’t take it anymore, the touring and the dancing that’s been breaking him down.

“We’ll drive down. We have all your drag to take, too. It’ll be good for people on the Southern scene to get a look at you, get you on their radars.”

“Just tell me in advance so I can book time off work.” Brock unlocks his apartment door, letting himself in as he tugs off his jacket, dropping it on the couch.

“In two weeks. So we’ve got to work on your looks and your numbers again.”

Being able to perform in drag feels good to Brock, makes him feel alive. Lights him up on stage the way he’s always wanted ballet to do so, because now he actually gets to wear the hair and outfits that he’s always wanted to and transform and draw all the eyes in the room towards him.

He wants to tell Jose about it, send him more pictures of his drag, but he’s intimidated. Jose still works at Mac and does drag on the side and he looks good, real good, every time he sends a picture and makes Brock zoom in on it to see exactly how he’s done his contour, his cut creases.

Jose’s started drawing drag makeup sketches with coloured markers on his legs and Brock realizes that Jose is his favourite artist, maybe ever.

Brock is in Georgia and the backstage of a pageant reminds him of his ballet days but more fun, because now he gets to dress up all pretty too.

Brock gets his makeup done before everyone else backstage, dusting setting powder on his face and adjusting his wig line while the rest of the girls competing are still outlining their contours.

It’s both a blessing and a curse, being able to do his makeup so fast. On one hand, he knows that he’s finished and doesn’t need to worry about being on time but on the other hand, he ruminates.

He mentally rehearses his talent routine over and over in his mind, trying to get the steps just right, the way that they were with the backup dancers in rehearsal. He can’t have any mistakes, at least, not ones that he can prevent.

Brock has heard of most of the girls competing, seeing quite a few on the pageant circuit a little north. But there’s a handful of queens that he’s never met before, including Alexis Mateo, who’s also ready like Brock and standing with a crowd of dancers, tapping her foot and scowling as she checks the time on her phone.

“José, si no estás listo en los próximos cinco minutos, juro por dios-”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, Mary! Wait up!” Brock is nearly knocked over when a guy bounds past him, yelling excuse me’s as he weaves himself past all of the vanity mirrors and towards Alexis. A backup dancer, Brock guesses, from the way that his outfit matches the rest of them.

But then the guy joins the group, runs a hand through his hair as turns around, shooting one last look at the queens getting ready before turning back to face Alexis and Brock’s heart stops beating right in his chest, his breath hitching as the makeup brush falls from his hand and onto the table.

The eyebrows, the perfect jawline, the features that have been burned into Brock’s memory by now by how often Brock sees him in his mind?

It’s Jose.

“Ready? Let’s practice your walk, since you’re already done.” Farrah’s tugging on Brock’s hand and getting him to stand up and it’s a miracle, really, that his legs are supporting him because Jose is right there, walking out the door with Alexis’ group and every fibre of Brock’s being wants to go after him.

But he also knows that they’re about to start a competition, and Farrah would absolutely kill him if he went after a boy.

Even if that boy is his soulmate.

Brock floats through his numbers in a daze, because nothing seems real and Jose is right there, laughing and dancing and yelling his head off and he’s perfect, just like Brock knew he’d be.

He gets first alternate and he’s not even disappointed like he usually would be, because sure, he wants to win but he’s found his soulmate and as soon as he gets off the stage and takes off his crown and sash and heels, he can go find him, talk to him.

Brock looks around frantically, handing Farrah the flowers he’d been given on stage, because he’s about to drop them and he needs to find Jose , needs to find him now.

Jose’s with Alexis and the rest of her dancers, Red Bull in hand and making silly jokes and Brock is shaking as he walks towards him, and maybe he should have gotten out of drag first-

He grabs for Jose’s arm and it feels like he’s been struck by lightning.

Jose turns around as if he’s been burned, looking him up and down curiously as if trying to place his face (why, why didn’t he get out of drag first) before his mouth drops open, and Brock is nearly knocked over by the weight of Jose in his arms.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-”

Brock’s never felt this much before, never been convinced that he’s absolutely going to be bowled over until right now, because how are his legs supporting him when Jose is in his arms and burying his face in his chest as if he’ll disappear, they’ll disappear if they let go?

Brock pulls back, draws in a gasp because it’s become hard to breathe, and Alexis is looking at them curiously because both of them look like they’ve seen a ghost.

Jose is perfect, from the way his eyes are wide, flitting along Brock’s face and the way his hand is running through his hair while his other hand is reaching out for Brock and Brock gets it, because he doesn’t want to let go of Jose again.

“Sorry, I’m still in drag, I should have-”

“Let me help you, come with you.”

“Okay.”

They grab Brock’s stuff from his vanity mirror and head for a bathroom because Brock doesn’t want to be around anyone else except for Jose. His hands are shaking as he puts down his makeup bag and makeup remover and Jose grabs the makeup wipe from his hand.

As loud as he had been earlier Jose is gentle now, pulling off Brock’s fake lashes with care and his wig and running his hands through Brock’s curls after his wig cap is off, and Brock feels himself leaning into the touch, still feels like he’s on fire.

As the layers and layers of makeup come off and Brock leaves Brooke behind, Jose’s face is filled with more and more marvel. His eyes map the contours of Brock’s face, his fingers tracing his patterns along Brock’s jaw, his cheekbones, above his eyebrows. As if he’s trying to commit everything to memory.

Jose helps Brock unlace his corset, though it doesn’t help Brock in bringing the air back into his lungs, because he feels like it’s been permanently knocked out of them now. Brock is about to pull on a hoodie, something soft after the hours and hours of restricting drag, before Jose throws his arms around him.

Brock’s had first kisses before. First kiss with a boy. First onstage kiss for ballet. First drunken kiss.

But this one? Blows all of them out of the water.

Jose is energy, pure energy that is feeding Brock’s soul, and he’s making Brock wonder how he’s survived nearly twenty seven years on earth without this. Without Jose, without feeling like he’s whole, because now he truly, truly gets the definition of a soulmate.

No wonder he hasn’t felt something with any other guy. How could he even begin to try, when Jose is entering his heart and fixing everything and making it whole again?

Jose whines into his mouth and Brock gets it, because it’s enough but it’s not, it’s not, he needs more and Jose needs more and he’s waited more than two decades for this and he needs it now.

Brock pulls back from the kiss and Jose’s eyes are wild, his lips swollen and parted and his hands shaking. They’ve talked to each other every day since they were kids and Brock feels like he knows absolutely everything about the man in front of him, but he needs to know more.

Brock is in a hotel room in Georgia and Jose is in his arms.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to go back to Toronto while Jose goes back to Tampa, how he’ll return to his everyday life without Jose there with him. Now that Jose is lying on his chest, fast asleep and mouth slightly parted as his eyes flutter, now that Brock finally, finally feels like he’s complete, he doesn’t want to let him go.

He can’t stop staring at him. Jose, beautiful perfect Jose who is funny and loud and had made Brock smile the entire night more than he has in his entire life. Jose, who is a ball of lightning that ricochets around the room and Brock isn’t able to take his eyes off of him, no matter how hard he tries.

Brock had gotten to kiss every inch of Jose’s skin that he could reach, see goosebumps rise along the areas where he’s written messages to him for what feels like forever.

Jose had taken out a Sharpie from his bag after their second round, when they were both spent but didn’t want to let go of each other, didn’t want to stop holding on, being connected. He’d drawn a heart on his own wrist and both of them had watched as it appeared on Brock’s mere moments later.

Their bodies aren’t quite the same but they complement one another, the drawings showing up on their skin in matching places, mirror images reflecting on each other almost perfectly. They had drawn new designs after every round, traced their hands over each mark in wonder, as if they’d never seen it happen before and hadn’t been writing to each other for nearly their entire lives.

Now here they are, in a hotel bed somewhere in Georgia as the moonlight streams in through the slightly open window, and the slight breeze makes Brock hold Jose just a bit tighter to him. Brock swears that he can feel Jose’s heart, how it beats at the same pace that his own does as he sleeps on top of him. Because they’re linked somehow, the blood that’s running through their veins and keeping them alive beating in sync, the way that the two of them have always been.

Brock calls in sick to work the day that Farrah starts to drive back to Toronto without him, because he can’t leave Jose just yet. Jose argues with the manager of his Mac store over the phone (’I told y’all, I got mononowhatever it is, I ain’t coming in’) and Brock’s eyes trace over his taut form, marvelling at how he had fit so well against his side like a puzzle piece.

He puts his duffle bag in Jose’s car (he’s sent his drag back up to Toronto with Farrah already) and climbs in the passenger seat. They drive to Atlanta because they can, because it’s a new city for both of them and they can make fresh memories there, even if just for a day. The car ride is filled with snacks and stolen kisses and Brock’s hand drawing patterns on Jose’s thigh, nearly making him crash at least twice.

They stop at a diner and share a milkshake like they’re a well worn cliche, trading whispers across the table and Jose’s voice when it’s soft reminds Brock of the way that Jose always writes goodnight on his palm before he falls asleep.

Their sex that night is less frantic, less exploratory, more reaffirming. Brock finds that it’s incredibly easy to figure out how to make Jose come undone and dig his nails into his skin. Maybe it’s because he’s already known all along. Worshipping Jose with his mouth makes him believe in something bigger, something with a higher power upon the universe, more than any visits to church as a child ever did. Because what else would allow Brock to experience this, experience Jose, making him feel like his soul is never going to be the same afterwards ever again?

They order in food to their hotel room and Jose pulls on Brock’s hoodie, and Brock swears that he sees him bury his face in it more than once.

They’re lying in bed when the clock reads 2 a.m., and Jose is tracing patterns along Brock’s ribs. Brock almost expects to see ink marks appear on his skin underneath Jose’s fingertips. Jose looks up at him, under those long lashes like he can’t get enough, like looking away from him for more than a second means that he’s losing out. Brock gets it, because he’s been doing the same thing.

Time seems to pass faster with Jose, as if being in proximity to a soulmate means that every moment is precious, so easily lost.

“What are we gonna do?”

“I dunno.” Brock wishes that he did. That he had an answer for this, that they didn’t live two thousand or so kilometers away from each other.

“Me neither.” Jose grabs onto him ever so slightly tighter.

“We’ll figure it out. It’s not going to be forever.” Brock runs his fingers through Jose’s hair, hears him let out a hum. “We can visit.”

“You better bring your ass to Tampa often. I don’t wanna go back without you.”

“As long as you bring yours to Toronto.”

“That don’t even sound like a real place.” Jose’s eyes are sparkling and it reminds Brock of the night sky.

“They found a monkey in a fur coat in an IKEA once in Toronto, so I’m not really sure that it is.” Brock watches as Jose raises an eyebrow, waits for him to say that he’s joking. Jose scoffs when he doesn’t.

“Canada sounds whack. But it gave me you, so.” Jose leans back into Brock’s side, presses a kiss to his ribs and Brock feels like it puts him back together.

Brock’s on a flight back to Toronto and he’s never felt emptier in his life.

I miss you I miss you I miss you

Jose’s driving back to Tampa so he can’t reply, Brock knows, but he hopes that he sees the words on the back of his hands as they hold the steering wheel.

Brock falls asleep after the flight attendant gives him a diet coke, and he wakes up to stars on his palms and hearts along his wrists.

Going back to work during the day, and back to the drag scene in the Village during the night makes Brock feel empty. How can he clock in for eight hours while trying to pretend to care, when his soulmate is far, far down on the coast? How can he tuck his dick back and pull on hip pads and layers of makeup and a wig that squeezes his head too tight, knowing that Jose won’t be there to help him take it all off?

It makes everything feel worthless.

But a little nagging voice in the back of his head reminds him of what his sisters had said, back when they were young and would weave stories about soulmates and what it meant to fall in love.

People have gone mad for their soulmates. Thrown their whole lives away, only to have everything blow up in their faces. Lost family and friends and money all in pursuit for one person, who may not be able to give them what they need.

Brock knows that him and Jose aren’t like that. They’re not. They’re Brock and Jose, they write messages to each other and maybe, just maybe, it keeps him from drowning.

But he also doesn’t want to rest the responsibility of his happiness solely on Jose.

So Brock gets into drag every night, picking up gigs on Church Street and he keeps on trekking.

Brock is twenty eight and packing for appearances as Miss Continental when Jose’s words blossom on his forearm.

So are you applying for drag race this year or what

Yeah. Again. You?

Brock’s applied once already. Last year, when he’d moved to Nashville and Jose had cheered because he was closer but grumbled because he wasn’t close enough. But now they take turns driving to each other, the ten hour trek not feeling so long to Brock when he knows what’s waiting at the end of it. They take long weekends, holidays, any short stretches of time they have. But it never feels like it’s satisfying enough, like it quenches Brock’s need for Jose to always be within reaching distance.

Yeah filmed an audition tape. Alexis directed it and it’s wild

I wanna see

Show me yours too

Brock’s is boring, pretty much a resume of his drag career with his crowning of Miss Continental as a highlight. But the video that Jose sends him makes him burst out laughing.

He’s his usual perfect hilarious self but cranked up about ten notches, shouting about how he deserves to be on the show and lip syncing with numbers full of death drops that make Brock’s tired knees ache just from watching.

He’s magnetic.

God, they’re gonna love you

What no you think so??? It’s not too crazy????

Oh, it’s crazy alright. But so you

Bitch what’s that supposed to mean

It’s a compliment, you goof

Yours is good too, you professional fish

I don’t know if it’s good enough, though

You’re always good enough

But a month and a half later Brock is the first one to find out that Jose’s made it on season ten of Drag Race after he gets the call, when Jose writes the number 10 with exclamation points purple ink on his palm.

Brock doesn’t get the same call.

He continues his Miss Continental appearances, helps Jose put together outfits for the runways with some of his designer connections. He tries not to be bitter when he can practically feel Jose’s excitement pumping through his own veins.

Jose goes radio silent on social media but his nerves bleed through ink on Brock’s thigh the night before filming starts for episode one.

Oh my god oh my god it’s tomorrow

Brock

I wish you were here

Me too

Brock really, really does.

You’ll do amazing, you’ll show them just how amazing you are

Everyone deserves to see you, be impressed by you

Have you light up their worlds like you light up mine

That’s poetic as shit

I know you’re tearing up over it though

Fuck yeah I am

You’re the worst

That’s a lie you’re the best

Go sleep, you need to be fully rested before tomorrow

A flower appears on Brock’s hipbone before he drifts off to sleep.

Brock is getting into drag at Play Nashville when words start to appear on his forearms and his chest and his ribs and he can tell Jose is upset.

So fucking stupid, I fucked up, Alexis is gonna be so upset shit shit shit

Brock puts his foundation down because Jose needs him more, right now. He knows that Jose’s only his second day into filming and hasn’t wanted to bother him, but now that he’s in trouble Brock is more than willing to be there.

What happened?

I messed up, that’s what

How?

They sending me home first

I’m first out Brock I’m fucking first out

I thought I did well in the lipsync but this other bitch brought money and threw it around stage

Who the fuck does that

Shit

I’m sorry baby, shit

Brock bites his lip. He can only imagine Jose right now, getting out of drag while Brock is getting into it, Sharpie shaking in his hands as he tries to write.

Jose is a star and Brock knows it, and he doesn’t know how Jose ended up in the bottom but he doesn’t want to pry, make things worse. Brock wishes he could be there instead, in LA at whatever studio they’re filming at just to wrap Jose in his arms under the guise of making everything better, while also giving the judges a piece of his mind.

Not that he has the courage to do that, but still.

Brock doesn’t need to watch the episode to know that Jose deserves better than this. But he knows Jose, knows how good he is at making everyone turn their eyes towards him, command them to pay attention.

Brock knows, he just knows, that Jose is still going to be successful. Maybe they’ll even bring him back for another season.

He draws out plans on his leg for what they’ll do when Jose comes to visit him next, then writes a story about how Jose is going to be a bigger star than anyone on his season. Jose scoffs and writes little annotations and jokes around his words, but Brock somehow can already feel the way the burden is lifting from his chest.

Brock is twenty-nine and his soulmate has just gone and broken the internet.

It seems that Brock can’t go to a gig, can’t scroll through Instagram without seeing ‘Miss Vanjie’ memes everywhere. Jose’s face all done up in drag, strolling backwards and making the judges crack up and absolutely everyone around him is repeating the words over and over again.

Jose is as befuddled as he is after the episode airs, and it feels like the universe as they know it is beginning to explode.

I swear my brain wasn’t even working I was just walking backwards and acting a damn fool not even knowing what was leaving my mouth

Didn’t even properly remember till watching this

And now you’re a meme

Fuck

I think Kathy Griffin tweeted about you

Who tf is that

Apparently I need to get a manager and an agent now

Wow

Alexis said so

People be calling left and right

I’m so proud of you

I didn’t even do anything I just said my name cause I forgot every other word that exists

And everyone absolutely loves it

Jose starts getting booked first all around the country, and then all around the world, and they can’t drive to visit each other anymore because Jose is always on the road but he always makes sure to write I love you under Brock’s ribs every night.

Brock gets the call for season eleven of Drag Race at 2 in the afternoon and he nearly falls off his couch and brings Henry and Apollo down with him.

They’re making him sign an NDA but he’s read it over, and no one’s mentioned soulmates and Brock needs to find a Sharpie or pen, damnit, and why does his living room suddenly seem devoid of them?

He stubs his toe on the kitchen counter when he finds one on the table, swearing under his breath as he pops the cap but then words are showing up on the back of his hand.

BROCK BROCK BROCK

THEY CALLED ME BACK

THEY WANT ME FOR SEASON ELEVEN

Brock wants to pick up Henry and dance around his kitchen because he’s going to be on season eleven of Drag Race and now Jose is going to be with him.

I JUST HUNG UP THE PHONE TOO

WHAT!!!

You’re not playing are you

Tell me you’re not playing

NO THEY REALLY CALLED ME

WE’RE GOING TO BE ON SEASON ELEVEN TOGETHER?????

oh my GOD

Facetime me facetime me

Jose picks up while he’s walking through an airport terminal with his manager, Jason, and fuck NDAs because Jose is being loud, practically screaming at the top of his lungs and Brock feels like he’s never ever going to stop smiling again.

“You did it. You’re going back.” Brock knew that Jose was meant to be a star, back when they were kids and Jose would tell him stories about how his abuela had thought the same thing. And now Jose’s going to do it twice over, after having done it on season ten already.

“I’m going- bitch, you fucking made the season!” Jose spins around and Jason’s running behind him, telling him tokeep his voice down but Jose doesn’t seem to care and Brock doesn’t either, really. “They really loved your Canadian ass this time around, huh?”

“Seems so.” It’s not quite sinking in for Brock just yet, the fact that in a handful of weeks he’s going to fly down to LA and film Drag Race and oh boy, he has so many runway looks that he has to put together before that and practically no time to do so-

“Hey. You. Don’t lose your shit on me.” Jose’s looking at him with that all knowing expression, because he always has an inkling of when Brock’s brain starts to get the better of him. “You made it. The hard part’s done and now the journey’s just beginning, baby.”

Brock smiles despite himself. He’s done it, he’s done it, and now he’s going to be there with Jose and have him to lean on and they can write to each other constantly and-

“Just don’t get out first like I did.” Jose snorts. It’s an old wound now, one that’s scabbed over and healed by the endless success that Jose’s been experiencing in the past year, much more so than quite a few girls from his season.

Jose really can do anything, in Brock’s eyes, his magnetic force of a man that Brock first saw command a room but now is commanding the entire world. Brock would say that he’s surprised by Jose being selected for season eleven again but he’s not, not at all, because who wouldn’t want him back?

And now Brock gets to go with him, too.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #canon compliant #soulmate au #holtzmanns #gold coloured prisms of light

33 notes · View notes

domestic-harry · 7 years ago

Note

Hi Lis! I know you used to do fic recs based on playlists/albums and I know this is a big request buuuut could you do one based off of your H&L Playlist? You're the best!

My H&L Playlist Fic Rec

God Only Knows by The Beach Boys

If you should ever leave meThough life would still go on, believe meThe world could show nothing to meSo what good would livin’ do meGod only knows what I’d be without you

These Inconvenient Fireworks : Future AU in which nobody tries out for X Factor but the boys end up finding one other eventually anyway. Louis is a jaded bastard who owns a cat named Duchess and teaches drama to teenagers, Harry is an idealistic aspiring photographer/part-time footy coach, Zayn teaches English lit and wears leather jackets, Liam saves people from burning buildings, and Niall is Niall.

Pretty Boy by Young Galaxy

When we were lostWe found each otherAnd headed sightless for the cityWe had no wayMisfit and stray

Atlas At Last : He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

Baby I’m Yours by Arctic Monkeys

And I’ll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

Through Struggles, To The Stars : Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what’s right. A Star Trek-inspired AU.

Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winterLittle darling, it feels like years since it’s been hereHere comes the sun, here comes the sunAnd I say it’s all right

Turning Page : Harry Styles tries to get lost in a place he’s never been. Louis Tomlinson has been perfecting the art of being lost for years. What they don’t expect to find is each other.

This Magic Moment by The Drifters

And then it happened, it took me by surprise

Hiding Place : Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe.

Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake upIn the morning when the day is new?And after having spent the day togetherHold each other close the whole night through

My Heart Is Beating For This Moment In Time : When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they’re put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn’t know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry’s always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

I’m A King Bee by The Rolling Stones

Well I’m a king bee Buzzing around your hive

Wear It Like A Crown : AU. As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis’ teenage fantasies.

Satellite by Gustar

Always the first star that I find

Relief Next To Me : AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

Leather And Lace by Stevie Nicks, Don Henley

Give to me your leatherTake from me my lace

Baby Heaven’s In Your Eyes : Or a sixth form!AU where Harry is the fucked up bad boy with too many problems, Louis is the perfect rich boy with too much money and their schools are right across from each other. They meet at a party and that’s the last (and maybe the only) thing they need.

You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away by The Beatles

And I hear them sayHey you’ve got to hide your love away

Butterfly Gun : Harry has never been much of a fighter, but—as always—where Louis Tomlinson is concerned, a lot of things stop being true.1940’s AU. Even after six years apart, they can’t forget their shared wartime childhood.

Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine

Stole me a dog eared mapAnd called for you everywhere

Have I found you?Flightless bird, jealous, weepingOr lost you?

Finding Lou : Louis is the nomadic stranger who wanders into Harry’s bookstore. Harry is the skeptic who falls for him.

See You Again by Elle King

You were standing thereFire in your eyesAs you held me inSaid, “Sorry, I didn’t write”

The Melody You Never Heard : The one where Harry gets roped into a four-day camping trip with the boy who kissed him and never called back.

I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

Secrets I have held in my heartAre harder to hide than I thoughtMaybe I just wanna be yours

Like an Endless Summer : Louis is a riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor who he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two summers. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’s formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley

Wise men say only fools rush inBut I can’t help falling in love with you

The Afterlife Fic : After dying in an accident, Louis Tomlinson arrives in the Afterlife. Not Heaven and not Hell, Louis finds himself in Judgment City UK: a pristine city where the food and entertainment are divine and the newly departed must undergo a Review of their life on Earth to determine if they have lived a life worthy of advancement in the universe, or if they must be returned to Earth to be born again in a new body.On his first full day in the Afterlife, Louis meets Harry Styles, and the two have an instant connection. Over the course of their Reviews, they fall in love and begin to find that even though they didn’t know each other on Earth, they are nonetheless linked to one another in perfect ways. Both are hoping to move ahead in the universe together, but they are challenged with the threat of separation if one or both of them is sent back to Earth to be born again.

Work Song by Hozier

Boys workin’ on emptyIs that the kind'a way to face the burning heat?I just think about my babyI’m so full of love I could barely eat

Been Together Since Way Back When : Louis Tomlinson is a law student with a simple but effective four step plan: 1. Finish law school. 2. Get hired somewhere awesome. 3. Marry his best friend and boyfriend of two years, Harry. 4. Live happily ever after. Harry Styles doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, where he wants to go, who he wants to be, or if he even wants the college degree he’s almost completed. All he does know is who he’ll be with forever, as long as Louis wants to keep him around. Or: the painfully realistic college au where everyone’s poor, lovesick, tired of school, terrified of the future, and still having the greatest times of their lives.

Lay Me Down by Sam Smith

Yes I do, I believeThat one day I will be, where I wasRight there, right next to you

Emperor’s New Clothes : Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Like A Prayer by Madonna

When you call my nameIt’s like a little prayerI’m down on my kneesI want to take you thereIn the midnight hourI can feel your powerJust like a prayerYou know I’ll take you there

Shake Me Down : Harry’s new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

You Make Loving Fun by Fleetwood Mac

I never did believe in miraclesBut I’ve a feeling it’s time to try

This Wicked Game : An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

English Rose by Ed Sheeran

I spend my daysJust travelling and playing showsBut my heart still beats For my home and my English rose

Never Be : The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips

Baby I’m not moving onI love you long after you’re gone

Through Eerie Chaos : For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

Sweetest Devotion by Adele

The way I’m running with you honeyMeans we can break every lawI find it funny that you’re the onlyOne I never looked for

The King of Spades : Undercover Metropolitan Police officer DC Louis Tomlinson has worked his way up the ranks of a prominent London crime family without raising suspicion, but when he finds himself pitted against a rising crime boss with a police background and a favoured employee by the name of Harry Styles, everything starts to unravel. Finding himself in the middle of an escalating war between two bosses whose bad blood runs deep into a violent past, Louis has to be even more careful where he steps in case his big secret catches up to him – and if it does, he knows he won’t survive it.Not to mention he’s falling for someone he can’t have – whose earnestness and honesty is a bright spot in a dark world – he can’t sleep because his nightmares haunt him and he’s in way over his head, but it’s just a game, always just a game, and if Louis plays his cards right he might just make it out alive.

Dear Prudence by The Beatles

The wind is low the birds will singThat you are part of everythingDear Prudence won’t you open up your eyes?

Young & Beautiful : Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

Tiny Dancer by Elton John

But oh how it feels so realLying here with no one near

Never Gonna Dance Again : Louis is a spy and Harry is a dancer. The only real thing they know is each other.

Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart by Ariana Grande

I know I’m not your onlyBut I’ll still be a fool‘Cause I’m a fool for you

Red Brick Heart : Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn’t expect is a surprise roommate who’s loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he’s ever wanted.

Secret Love Song, Pt. II by Little Mix

We keep behind closed doorsEvery time I see you, I die a little more

Don’t Look Down : AU. In which Louis is a solicitor at one of London’s most prestigious law firms and Harry happens to apply for the position as his trainee. And everyone else is around, too.

Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths

Good time for a changeSee, the luck I’ve hadCan make a good manTurn bad

Hush : Au where small towns suck, Louis is losing it, and Harry’s just too perfect.

Rubik’s Cube by Athlete

The world is too heavyToo big for my shouldersCome take this weight off me now

Where Your Heart Is: Louis is ready for his brand new adventure. So what if he suffers from a genetic condition that prevents him from being touched? College is going to be awesome. It has to. Karma kind of owes him right now. Forget about his overprotective mother, or Liam– his entirely too chipper step brother– or his mess of a roommate. Forget about the gloves he has to wear at all times. He’s here to expand his knowledge, write and drown himself in books – No matter how distracting ‘Hallway Boy’ may be– The obnoxious, flirty frat wannabe determined to become the bane of Louis’ existence.

Running Back To You by For The Foxes

Hey, old lover, when you fall asleepThere’s a piece of you in every song I singWhere your childhood runs wild and freeWithout me

Empty Skies : For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Miss You by The Rolling Stones

I’ve been holding out so longI’ve been sleeping all alone

Here In The Afterglow : 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

I’ve Just Seen A Face by Jim Sturgess

I’ve just seen a face,I can’t forget the time or placeWhere we just met

Nameless Night : For their 18th birthday, every person receives a letter that reads a simple date. That is the date you’ll meet your soulmate. Harry and Louis have different beliefs, live in different worlds and have different dreams, hopes and fears. Yet, they’re not so different from each other when it comes to love. When their paths cross, there is no doubt they belong together. Except for that one, essential difference: they didn’t receive the same date.

I Melt With You by Modern English

I’ll stop the world and melt with you You’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time There’s nothing you and I won’t do

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast : A Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Sweet Disposition by Temper Trap

So stay there'Cause I’ll be coming overAnd while our blood’s still youngIt’s so young, it runsAnd won’t stop 'til it’s overWon’t stop to surrender

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose : American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football. A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode

Someone to hear your prayersSomeone who caresYour own personal Jesus

Escapade : In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He’s rich. He’s handsome. He’s reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

Take On Me by A-ha

Take me on, (take on me)I’ll be goneIn a day or two

Wild and Unruly: Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

Bloodstream by Transviolet

Outlaw love, make you lose control

Wanted Most : Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don’t understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.

Boys by Charli XCX

Head is spinning thinking 'bout boys

Wings to Break Your Fall : Strip club AU. Harry’s work and family are keeping him busy. He really isn’t looking for a relationship, doesn’t want one. He just wants Louis. Problem is, Louis has other plans.

Closer by Tegan and Sara

Here comes the breath before we get a little bit closerHere comes the rush before we touch, come a little closer

The Night Sky is Changing Overhead : Harry is a tattoo artist, Louis is a drama professor, and they meet during an argument at a café.

Electric Love by BORNS

Baby you’re like lightning in a bottleI can’t let you go now that I got it

Pillow Talk : When Harry starts having confusing feelings for a male classmate, his sister’s best friend, Louis, helps him figure himself out. Cue lots of kissing, sex, and falling in love.

Safe And Sound by Capital Cities

I could show you loveIn a tidal wave of mysteryYou’ll still be standing next to me

Adore You : Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do. Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

Fashion by The Royal Concept

'Cause I love the way you wear on meAnd your fashion is so wild and freeHoney, lovin’ you ain’t easy,But I’m not gonna leave you, no, noSo, baby, put your dope-ass crazy fashion on me

A Million Roses (Bathed In Rock N Roll) : Harry sings in smoky dive bars; Louis misses his flight home. they go to coney island in the morning.

What I Like About You by The Romantics

What I like about you, you really know how to danceWhen you go up, down, jump around, think about true romance, yea

Hold Me Closer : Louis Tomlinson is one of the most promising dancers of the English National Ballet, on track to become the youngest principal dancer in the company’s history. That is, until forces conspire to significantly complicate his life, including: a surprise ballet, an unfairly attractive guest choreographer, and being pushed into a rivalry with his best mate. Featuring lots of wine, dancing, pining, and a happy ending.

Feel Like Makin Love by Bad Company

And if I had the sun and moonAnd they were shinin’I would give you both night and dayLove satisfying

Loving You Is Free : Louis is a workaholic record label CEO who hasn’t been on a date in nearly a year. Niall and Liam make an account for him on a sugar dating website as a joke. And then Louis meets Harry.

Flowers In The Window by Travis

When I first held you I was coldA melting snowman I was toldBut there was no-one there to hold beforeI swore that I would be alone for ever more

Into The Blue : AU. In which Louis is Harry’s scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can’t be all that difficult to convince Harry that they’re on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

Yellow by Coldplay

Look at the starsLook how they shine for youAnd everything you doYeah they were all yellow

Strawberry Milk Series : An au where Harry paints his nails and drinks strawberry milk and is too nervous for it to be nothing and Louis’ just trying to figure out whats wrong with him

I’d Rather Be With You by Joshua Radin

Finally see you were naturallyThe one to make it so easy when you show me the truthYeah, yeah I’d rather be with youSay you want the same thing too

Speaking of Marvels : AU. Louis is a nanny in suburban New Jersey, and the neighbors’ son is home from college for the summer. It was supposed to be a fling.

Friends by Ed Sheeran

And if you know me like I know youYou should love me, you should know

You Are The Blood : A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

Fallingforyou by The 1975

According to your heartMy place is not deliberateFeeling of your armsI don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck

Unbelievers : It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan. Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Stand By Me by Florence + The Machine

No I won’t be afraidJust as long as you stand, stand by me

Give Me Truths : Louis is a psychology student with a tattoo count as high as his genius IQ. Harry is in a (sort-of) relationship with a homophobic man and hates himself a little more every day. Things fall apart and Louis puts him back together.Or, the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

Love On Top by Beyonce

Now everybody ask me why I’m smiling out from ear to earBut I know Nothing’s perfect but it’s worth it

Bloodline : Louis doesn’t know how to feel when his best friend, Liam, finds out about a brother that he never knew, who was placed for adoption before he was born and is bursting into his life at twenty-four years old. Louis is very wary of the man who might replace him. He has always thought of Liam as his own brother. What if Liam doesn’t need him anymore? What if there’s no room for Louis? After all, blood runs thicker than water. Louis doesn’t like Liam’s new brother and he doesn’t even know him. That’s irrelevant, though. He doesn’t like him. He doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t want him hanging around. He doesn’t want anything to do with him.That is, until he meets him.

Perfect by Ed Sheeran

I found a love to carry more than just my secrets

Dance to the Distortion : Louis accidentally breaks Harry’s camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

Look After You by The Fray

When I’m losing my control, the city spins aroundYou’re the only one who knows, you slow it down

Gods & Monsters : The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that’s exactly what he did.

Flowers In Your Hair by The Lumineers

And romanticized the time I sawFlowers in your hair

Your Name Is Tattooed On My Heart : Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

So Easy

Like a rainbow in a rainstorm makes the flowers growYou’re the reason, I believe in, something I don’t know

When We Were Younger : Sixteen year old Harry Styles’ world turns upside down when he logs on to gay teen chat to discover somebody has stolen his photos and used them as their own.

Ho Hey

I belong with you, you belong with me, you’re my sweetheart

California Sold : Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever. A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Me And You by Jake Bugg

All of these people want us to failI won’t let that happen noJust you believe meI’ll hide you discreetlyDiscreetly from this cold world

Cupid’s Defense : In which Harry is Cupid, Louis and Liam own a law firm, and they’re all getting sued.

Fire And The Flood by Vance Joy

Since we met I feel a lightness in my stepYou’re miles away but I still feel youAnywhere I go there you are

Chasing Empty Spaces : The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

I Will Wait by Mumford & Sons

You forgave and I won’t forget

Feels Like Coming Home : The last thing Harry Styles expects when he’s hanging out at the Someday Cafe in Somerville one rainy October day is for his ex, Louis Tomlinson to walk through the door, but that’s exactly what happens. After a spectacularly ugly break-up three years prior, Harry hasn’t heard one word from Louis, and he’s moved on. Gotten over him. But having Louis back in his life, not to mention working at the restaurant where he’s a chef, isn’t easy, and the feelings that Harry thought he’d left turn out to be not so easily forgotten.

#I............I am embarassed and also proud of just how detailed this rec got #holy fuck that's a 57 fic rec #I have peaked ma dudes #asks #fic rec

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