#the two not so prickly muffins

[yourthemaster11-blog]

F/Ovember Presents...*literal drumroll*...WOULD YOU RATHER? !

Brian: Howdy folks! As we all know, F/OVwember is a time for appreciation, admiration and...games! This next one is an absolute doozy, a presentation of situations no one would ever want to be in, but has to for the sake of this ever so perfect game! Why don't you explain Pomni? Pomni: We're going to give you two scenarios per character and you'll have to choose the one you'd rather do! A classic game, but the twist is that you'd honestly want to do neither! Kim: But you're legally required to choose one!...Metaphorically speaking! Vanessa: Just think of it as an opportunity to bond...over abject horrors! Sarah: Abject horror makes for good songs after all! Brian: That they do Sarah! And without further ado, these four lovely ladies are going to present the most wonderfully horrific binary choices possible! Take it away Pom! Pomni: Would you rather... 1. Be forced to laugh for the rest of your life non-stop, at risk of life imprisonment? OR 2. Never be allowed to laugh again, at risk of life imprisonment?

Kim: Would you rather... 1. Take the blame for a crime you didn't commit for a loved one and be put in prison for life? OR 2. Commit a bank theft and get away scot-free, at risk of many innocents being hurt?

Vanessa: Would you rather... 1. Have every single thing you do broadcast to the world? OR 2. Live in a world with no social media, TV or other electronics to speak of for the rest of your life? Sarah: Would you rather... 1. Be forced to sing for the rest of your life or be tickled for failing? OR 2. Never be allowed to listen to music again or be tickled for failing?

[yourthemaster11-blog]

Sarah Lynn. AKA every time someone speaks to her. Weird, since I always call her Sarah

Imagine calling your f/o by their full name

[yourthemaster11-blog]

And now announcing...F/ONovembuh!

Brian: Don't get those glasses, you read correctly folks! F/Ovember is here and it's looking to be the best one yet! Pomni: Isn't it the best one by..de-default? It IS your first one after all! Brian: True as that may be Pomni, EVERY year is the best one! I mean, when is F/Ovember NOT the best occasion in the history of history?! Sarah: Yeah Pomni, listen to Brian some more! For a clown, you can be pretty uptight! Kim: He DOES have both optimism AND pragmatism on his side! He's a bit of a mixer-upper like that! Vanessa: Isn't that the truth? It helps for spy missions, that's for sure! Pomni: sighs Okay, I guess you got me there. And you're not wrong, Brian DOES have the boundless enthusiasm you need for an event like this! Brian: That I do! And hopefully all of you do too, because you'll get to ask ANYTHING and I mean ANTYTHING!..Except whether or not pineapple pizza is good, that one will never change! Sarah: Oh my god, I totally agree! Whoever made it has tastebuds of barf! Kim: It's not my favorite, no. Vanessa: Who's is it? But yes, feel free to ask any question and we'll do our best to answer! Pomni: I guess that signals the start of… Everyone: Bri's Shipping Bonanza's F/OVember! confetti goes off Brian: Neat…I've never seen purple strings of confetti before…

[fadingdaggerr]

hello! i was wondering if you could write a melissa/reader fic where r unknowingly makes mel very nervous/blush, and after a while melissa starts to become very protective of r until melissa is a big blushing mess and just needs to have her girl 🫶 or whatever u want to take from this, big fan of your work!! mwah 🧛🏻‍♀️🦇

amaranthine

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above <3 | 2.3k

includes: literally just fluff, tooth rotting fluff, soft!melissa, established but new relationship, light making out

note: sol posting two fics in a month? what is this? no but seriously i got an inspo boost since abbott is back in like 2 weeks so i was rewatching and “get the cameras outta my face before i give you colonoscopy with it” is still top 3 melissa lines (from attack ad)

“You really ate that and have the gall, the gumption to call it food?” Barbara says, baffled by the story you told her as you both were making your coffee. Somehow on the walk in, the conversation had gone from the muffin you got on your way to work, to the topic of childhood lunches.

You laugh, “listen, bologna and ketchup was the only consistent thing I ate until, like, middle school.”

“And you enjoyed that?” she says with a shocked face and what you guess is minor disgust from her downturned lips. You nod in response with a little mhm and Barbara’s hand comes up to hide your face from her line of sight, turning away so as to not laugh right at you. She’s nothing if not polite. Her reaction only makes you laugh more.

You both sober up as you hear the door opening, and there’s equal gratefulness for it being Melissa that enters the room. Your eyes flick over her quickly, taking in her pink top you don’t think you’ve seen before and black leather pants that you’ve certainly never forgotten her wearing. Her eyeliner is perfect, but it doesn’t hide the darker circles under her eyes, the folders in her bag telling you stayed up late to grade assignments.

Barbara greets her while you silently step away to the cabinet, grabbing an orange mug out. You know exactly how she takes her coffee, at least how she takes the bitter lounge coffee, with a sugar and a hefty pour of milk, only the one percent though. Just as she finishes unpacking her stuff and sits down to keep talking with Barb, you return to your spot across from her.

Her eyes move to you, watching you test the coffee with a small sip off the edge. You think a moment before pushing the mug over to her, a tiny smile crossing your lips. She raises a brow, taking a small sip of her own to test it. “It’s perfect, hon, thank you,” she says, just a little ruffled that you pay attention enough to get her coffee right and that she’d never gotten her coffee to taste this good.

“Anything for you,” is your earnest response. With the smile still on your lips, you send a wink her way before your attention is stolen by more people filtering into the room. As you chat over your shoulder with Gregory, Melissa faces her lap, desperate to get rid of the blush that painted her cheeks at the ease of your attention and words.

She decides to stay a little quieter, listening to the conversation Barbara is having with Janine, sipping on her coffee that she was holding close to her chest. There’s a prickly feeling on the side of her face, and when she turns she finds your eyes on her. They flick from her eyes to her shirt, scanning her the sleeves and stitching, and she has to pretend she didn’t notice the barely lingering look at her chest.

“New shirt?” you ask when your eyes meet hers.

She takes in a deep breath, “yeah, just got it yesterday. D’ya not like it or something?”

“What? No, Mel,” you said, “you look beautiful. As always.”

There’s not enough time for her to hide before her cheeks are an even brighter shade of pink than her shirt, eyes blinking rapidly. Melissa prays that Barbara didn't just hear you say those words, let alone see her reaction to them. Whatever this was between you two, it’s new and fragile and not fully defined, and you both agreed you don’t want to let anyone in just yet.

—☽—

Melissa has become attuned to you. She knows when you’re around well before she sees you, always able to sense your presence. If it was because she was always looking for you, she’d never admit it.

With soft steps knowing it’s a quiet time in her room, you approach her classroom as a stop on your way to the lounge for popcorn. Stopping in her doorway, she immediately turns and looks at you. Eyes widening at the immediate attention, you give her a little wave.

“Alright little eagles, I’m gonna be in the hall. Youse better stay on your best behavior,” she says as she stands up from the desk, making an ‘I’m-watching-you’ motion. Joining you in the hall with a little smile on her face, she leans against the wall.

“You didn’t have to leave your class,” you say as you match her position, leaning into her space just a little.

Her smile grows a bit, “then why’d you stop by?”

“Just wanted to see you, that’s all. But getting you to talk to you is definitely a bonus,” you answer, the grin on your face stretching as you look at her while you speak.

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting, not that she really knew what she thought you’d say. Licking her lips, she ducks her head and shakes it, but only for a second. Looking back up at you, she manages to say, “you just came to stare at me then?”

“I prefer the word ‘admire,’ but same-difference.”

“Yeah, right,” she says with a little scoff, trying hard to keep from allowing the heat to creep up her neck.

You mock her a little scoff with a smirk as you push off the wall, about to start back on your journey. “Whatever you say, gorgeous,” you say before turning away. Your turn stutters as you come back around, fingers raising to her necklace to fix the chain so the clip was at the back of her neck. You mumble a barely audible there we go before you turn around and continue on your way.

Melissa is frozen in place for a moment, hand raising to her neck, tracing the spot your hand ran against. A thankful thought passed her mind that the hall was empty, not even a doc camera around. She was not above threatening them to delete the footage or smashing the camera that caught her flustered and dazed from your affection.

—☽—

At lunch, she has to refrain from looking at you, knowing that if she even dared to, that her cheeks would be as red as the firetrucks she adores. Thinking instead that she didn’t want to talk at the moment, you were conversing with Jacob about a movie he watched over the weekend and was dying to share it with someone. Admittedly, Melissa was half listening, really only to hear your voice.

There was a slight snicker from the couches, a sort of snicker that peaked Melissa’s attention. She sees Mr. Morton and another eighth-grade teacher peering at yours and Jacob’s direction, clearly listening to your conversation and finding it humorous. Focusing her ears, she hears mumbles of lame as hell and great, another freak. Her brows furrow and fists clench, Barbara quickly notices her friend’s change in mood and gives her a questioning gaze that Melissa ignores.

“Aye,” Melissa pipes up, the whole room goes silent. Her eyes stay on Morton and what’s-her-face as she menacingly says, “watch your mouth or I watch it for you. Got it?” The only response either one gives her is a fast nod before averting their eyes, frozen in place from fear. 

When Melissa’s glare finally leaves them, everyone else’s eyes drop to avoid being next, except for yours and Barbara’s.

“What was that for?” Barbara speaks quietly so only the three of you at the table can hear.

“Nothing, Barb. Just didn’t like what they were saying is all,” she answers, purposefully keeping her eyes off both of you.

Your hand goes to her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit, thumb caressing her skin, “what were they saying?”

Melissa desperately tries to ignore her rapid heart, “it was nothing, hon. Don’t worry about it.” Unable to resist a little bit of extra contact, she pats your hand reassuringly. Neither of you notice Barbara’s eyebrows fly up in surprise at the outward affection you both displayed.

When lunch ended, Barbara went back to her classroom to do her lesson on the changing seasons, and you and Melissa both had prep periods while your students went off to recess and their extra activities. Taking the extra time you rarely got to have together during the work day, you spent the majority of the hour grading next to each other. Little smiles and checking in made you both ditch the grading altogether, just enjoying each other's company.

“If I invited you over for dinner tonight, what would you say to that?” she asks with a coy smile.

“I’d say I’d love to have dinner with you,” you reply with a tad of shyness, playing with the rings on her hand you were holding in your lap. 

“Six work for you?”

“I’ll be there, on the dot.”

Your phone buzzes on the table next to you, making you flinch at the sudden intrusion. She heard you mumble shit under your breath, before you stand and hurriedly collect your things. Double checking that you had everything, you let out a deep breath. 

Without much thought, you lean down and press a soft kiss to her cheek, “I’ll see you later.” Before she can  respond you’re rushing out of the room to get your kids from art class.

Melissa’s head drops to her desk and grumbles, “gonna be the death of me, that one.”

—☽—

In her kitchen, you’d found that your favorite spot was sitting on the counter next to her. She let you ‘help’ by letting you add the seasonings, but wouldn’t let you near much else. You were content to look at her while she worked in her element, an ease and happiness in her movements that you delight in.

With just having to wait for the vegetables to cook down a bit, she turns to you and leans in close, arm brushing your thigh. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, and raise your hand to brush hair out of her face. Your hand slides from behind her ear to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.

“You’re so pretty, you know?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she leans into you, her hands moving from the counter to your thighs. Pink lips brush against yours, a silent question. This was all she’s been wanting since you two snuck away Friday as everyone left school, where she left you breathless in your empty classroom. The answer she gets is your lips pressing into her, soft and slow, savoring the taste of her. Melissa barely holds back a whine at the feeling of your lips on hers, she never thought she could miss a feeling so much, but a weekend apart from you had her craving your touch. Your tongue traces against her bottom lip, begging for entry, and she’s quick to grant it.

Unlike her, you don’t hold in a groan at the feeling of her mouth on yours. Your hands travel into her hair, lightly tugging her closer. The sensation has her hands gripping your thighs, using them to pull you into her. You feel a certain desperation in her kiss that allows you to take the lead easily, sucking her bottom lip between your teeth and biting gently before kissing her softer to make it better. Your legs wrap around her as you slow your lips, wanting her close as possible.

As you pull away, she pushes back in to catch your lips again for just a second. Her hands on your thighs are making it incredibly hard for you to focus on your already struggling breathing. There’s a muted moan from her as your fingers scratch her scalp, pulling gently as her soft hair.

“You’re trouble, you know?” she murmurs breathlessly, mirroring your previous question.

You smile as you rest your head against the cupboard behind you, still holding her face as you ask, “how so?”

“All you’re staring and flirting, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she responds like it’s obvious.

“Again, I was admiring, not staring. And when was I flirting?” Your tone and the look on your face makes the redhead realize that you truly weren’t aware of the effect you were having on her. 

Her hands slide up to your waist, your shirt raising just enough for her pinkies to brush your skin. The goosebumps that develop under her touch makes her heart skip a beat, loving that she had a similar effect on you. When she doesn’t answer you right away, you angle her face to bring her attention back to you, silently asking your question again with your eyes.

Melissa sighs, “saying you’d do ‘anything’ for me, calling me beautiful and pretty. You’re a flirt.” 

“Those are just all true, not really flirting. I would do anything for you and you are very beautiful and very pretty,” you say, smiling. The heat in her cheeks spread to your hands, the warmth spreading to your heart. She tries to duck away but you’re faster, pulling her closer just barely to press a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

She wants to respond, but no words form under your gaze. Your eyes avert from hers and she finds hers following where yours go. Suddenly the simmering of the vegetables in the pot reaches her ears, reminding her that there was a world outside your eyes and lips. Your hands drop from her face, letting her go to check on the food you can’t touch. She just squeezes your hips before letting go.

You’ll still be there when she gets back.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title means something that is ‘undying or everlasting’

[badkitty3000]

☕Love In The Time Of Cholera And Coffee ☕

Part One: Chapters 1-6

Five x Female Reader, Klaus x Female Reader

You and Klaus are in a casual relationship. No ties, just sex. When you start spending a lot of time at his apartment, you somehow manage to break through his brother's prickly outer shell. He seems to like you, or at least tolerate you the best that Five can. When you start to realize that maybe there is more than just mutual friendship between the two of you, it opens up a lot of feelings and unanswered questions. And a lot of problems.

This story contains sexually explicit material! (But also lots of humor and fluff)

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Multi-Chapter Fic, Cross-posted on AO3. Link to my Master List.

This story alternates between the reader's POV and Five's POV. I will update a chapter at a time going forward. If you'd like to read it on AO3's format, here is the Link to story on AO3.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter One: Motivation, Routine, and Caffeine

You have been sort of dating Klaus for several weeks already. Not exactly his girlfriend and not exactly not his girlfriend. You are something in between and you are ok with that. You don’t need a major commitment and you are content with a casual relationship. Maybe not forever, but for right now it suits your needs. Klaus is fun and easygoing, and always makes you feel relaxed. He can be selfish sometimes, that is true, but you are willing to overlook it for the most part. As long as he doesn’t bring his selfishness into the bedroom, which so far he has not, then you could live with it.

The sex is good. Which is probably the real reason you’ve been hanging around so long. Without the sex, there isn’t a whole lot keeping you there. You don’t have a lot in common, except that you both like watching old English-dubbed Samurai movies on TV late at night while passing a joint back and forth. You don’t even like smoking that much, but Klaus has a way of making everything seem alluring and sexy, so you never hesitate when he takes a long hit off a joint and hands it over to you.

You spend a lot of your time at his apartment. You work a lot of hours, and sometimes have to work late, and his apartment is much closer than yours. That’s actually where you had met Klaus, at the bakery and coffee shop that you manage. He had come in for a tea and started making small talk with you. Before you knew it, he had you cracking up when he made a joke about eating your muffin. You weren’t even offended; that’s just part of the magic of Klaus. He can say pretty much anything and get away with it.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the most beautiful men on the planet. Honestly, sometimes you’re jealous of how every single piece of clothing looks amazing on him and he never seems to have a bad hair day. Being with Klaus is like walking around in the company of some ancient Greek sculpture come to life. He draws eyes wherever he goes, from both men and women, and he’s never shy about returning the looks, either.

He likes to go shopping with you to help you pick out clothes, and he always lets you know if they look good on you or not. He’s funny, and sweet, and it’s very easy to fall under his spell. With Klaus you get the best of both worlds; a fun best friend that you can share clothes and gossip with, but who you also get to fuck.

That initial run-in with him eventually led to a few hook ups, and now you are a regular visitor at his place. It works out well. He always stays up late, so it’s no big deal if you swing by on your way out of work at midnight.

You are also working a lot in order to hopefully buy the shop from the current owner. Soon, you’ll have enough cash, along with a loan from the bank, to buy it. And you already run the place, anyway. It has always been a dream of yours to be able to own your own business.

So, between the long hours and financial preparation for the purchase, you don’t have a whole lot of free time. Most of what you do have, you spend with Klaus since it’s convenient and fun. Which, as it turns out, means you are also spending a lot of time with his brother.

You knew from the beginning who Klaus was. You know all about The Umbrella Academy and the Hargreeves family, because everyone does. Not that they’re really a household name anymore, but you know all about their history and their powers. So, when you found Klaus shared an apartment with Number Five, you were intrigued. You knew he had gone missing for a long time, but didn’t really know the whole story. Klaus had filled you in one night, though, and you were left feeling sorry and sad for him. That is, until you met him.

The first time you were there, sitting on the couch with Klaus watching TV, Five had teleported directly into the living room and scared the living shit out of you. After you screamed, he looked at you like you were some sort of flea-ridden possum that had gotten inside the house when someone left the door open.

“Holy shit!” you had shrieked, clutching at your chest and trying to catch your breath.

Without addressing you in any way, or introducing himself, Five glared at you, then turned to Klaus with a scowl. “Keep your feet off the coffee table. And stop leaving the goddamn milk out.”

Then he was gone again, in a swoosh of light, leaving you staring at an empty space.

“Wow, that was intense. Does he always do that?” you had asked Klaus.

Klaus just laughed and nodded, putting his feet back up on the coffee table. “Oh yeah, that’s just Five. You get used to it.”

“He seems kind of scary. And angry.”

“Fivey? Oh no, not at all. My big brother is really just a mushy little teddy bear all dressed up in a three-piece suit. Trust me, his bark is much bigger than his bite.” Then Klaus creased his eyebrows together in thought and pointed his joint at you. “But, maybe try not to piss him off too much. Just in case.”

Because of what you learned about Five’s time travel mishaps, he looked younger than Klaus and a few years younger than you. You were somewhere in between the two of them. But Five definitely had the grumpy, older brother thing down. After you got used to him appearing and disappearing without warning, you started to loosen up around him a little bit. Even though Klaus told you he was really a softy inside, you have a hard time believing it from the way he acts around you. After several weeks straight of being ignored, you decide to call him out on his bullshit.

Five appears out of a portal of blue directly in front of you as you are on your way to the bathroom. As usual, he gives you his signature sneer and is about to walk past you when you grab him by the arm. He looks down at his arm where your hand is and then back at your face; a murderous glint in his eyes.

“What the hell is your problem?” you ask him, doing your very best not to show your nerves.

“My problem? I don’t have a problem, thank you. Now let go of me.”

His voice is hard, but he also hasn’t tried to pull away, and you keep your hand on him. His upper arm is much firmer and solid than you had expected and you can feel his bicep flexing under your fingers.

“Why are you always so rude? I haven’t done anything to you.”

Five rolls his eyes and sighs. “Christ. Look, I’m sorry if I’m not dying to be all buddy-buddy with you. I learned a while ago that it’s not exactly worth getting to know my brother’s flavor of the month.”

You know he’s meaning to insult you, but you end up laughing instead. It’s no secret that Klaus is a total man-whore and you’re fine with that. It’s nothing serious and if another man came along that you were interested in, Klaus wouldn’t mind that, either. In fact, he’d probably want to meet him.

“Look, your mean old man act is wearing a little thin. It wouldn’t kill you to be somewhat nice once in a while. Maybe even get to know me? Most people think I’m a fucking delight.”

Five gives a sarcastic snort of laughter and looks back at your hand on his arm. This time, you let go. “How about this, sweetheart? If you’re still around next week, I’ll consider finding out how much of a fucking delight you are.”

You smile and hold out your hand, ignoring his condescension. “Alright, old man. Deal.”

You notice a tiny twitch of the corner of his mouth, but then it’s gone again. He looks cautiously at your hand, like he’s not sure what to do with it at first, and then he gives it a quick shake with his own before muttering something under his breath and blinking away again.

It is exactly one week later, and you haven’t forgotten Five’s deal. He has been slightly more cordial to you in the past seven days, but he still doesn’t take the time to stick around more than two minutes to talk to you. So, you’re practically beaming with satisfaction that you get to rub it in his face and actually make him talk to you.

You corner him in the kitchen one morning, as he’s pouring a cup of coffee. “Hi!” you exclaim loudly as his back is turned to you, and you laugh when he almost spills his coffee everywhere.

“Fuck!” he yells, before turning around and glaring at you.

You bounce on your toes and clap. “Guess what today is?”

“I can only hope that it’s National Leave Your Boyfriend’s Brother The Fuck Alone Day?”

You give a fake laugh and shake your head. “No, dummy. And he’s not my boyfriend, anyway. It’s been a week and I’m still here, right in your grumpy little face. So, now you have to talk to me.”

“I most certainly do not,” he states dryly before taking a sip of his coffee and then making a face of disgust. “Damn it, Klaus cannot make a decent pot of coffee to save his life.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s what I told him! It’s the worst!”

That seems to pique Five’s interest a little and he gives a small smile. “He buys the cheapest shit ever. Everyone knows the secret to good coffee is –"

“Quality coffee beans.”

He looks stunned that you said exactly what he was going to say and he lowers his mug. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“See? If you had taken the time to know me a little, you would know that I actually manage a café. I know all about good coffee.”

You don’t know him well enough to recognize all of his expressions, but if you could guess, you’d say he looks somewhat impressed.

You continue on. “And, since I know firsthand that Klaus’s coffee is total shit, I have started bringing my own with me. Wait right here.”

You leave, go into Klaus’s bedroom, and pull out a small bag of coffee grounds from the overnight bag you brought with you. When you return to the kitchen, Five is still waiting there, and you hold it up for him to see.

“Now, move out of the way so I can dump that swamp water out and make us something good.”

Five actually does what you say, and moves out of your way, allowing you to clean out the pot and fill the coffee maker up with fresh water and your special grounds. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s watching you intently. It’s slightly unnerving but you try to ignore it.

When you’re done and all you can do is wait for the coffee to brew, the two of you stand on opposite sides of the kitchen, leaning against the countertop. Five has his arms crossed over his chest and you start fidgeting with your hands, picking at your nails and cuticles. Your boldness from just a few minutes ago has faded.

“So, you’re the manager of a café?” Five finally asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes. Soon to be owner, if things go well.”

Five raises his eyebrows and nods his head in approval. “Sounds like a smart move.”

“I hope so. It’s a big step, but I’m ready for it. I want to be my own boss.”

Five nods his head again, but doesn’t say anything. After another minute of silence, the coffee maker beeps. Thankful for something to do, you pull out two new clean mugs and pour each of you a cup. When you hand one to Five, he takes it from you and you notice his hands. They look strong, with taught tendons running down the backs and long, slender fingers. You’ve always had a thing for hands.

“Holy shit,” Five says, his forehead creased with lines.

“What? No good?” you ask, genuinely surprised that he wouldn’t like it.

“No, quite the opposite. This is perfect!”

You laugh and hold up your mug. “And you didn’t want to get to know me.”

Five makes a face that kind of resembles a smile and takes another drink. “Well, if I’d known you made coffee like this…”

You laugh again and shake your head. “Klaus insists you are just a big teddy bear, and maybe I’m beginning to see it. Underneath all that crabbiness, anyway.”

“I’m not crabby,” Five insists, giving you the crabbiest frown ever.

“Oh, ok. Sorry. Curmudgeonly? Would you prefer that?”

To your surprise, he actually laughs. You’ve never heard him laugh before and it catches you off guard. But you like the way his face breaks into a big grin and the sound that rises up out of his chest like it’s been stored in there for a very long time and is finally being released.

“Well, I’ll be damned…did you just make Senor Cinco laugh?”

You and Five both turn and see Klaus sauntering into the kitchen to join you, wearing nothing but a small pair of bright blue underpants. He sidles up to you and throws an arm around your shoulder, leaning down and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I did!” you exclaim with a smile, putting your arm around his naked waist.

“That just might be a new record. Usually, it takes at least three months, plus a few thinly-veiled death threats, before you get an honest to goodness laugh out of him.”

Five rolls his eyes and his face returns to its normal seriousness. “Actually, Klaus, I just don’t laugh at anything you have to say. Because you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Aw…I love you too, Fivey,” Klaus responds before he reaches out and ruffles Five’s hair.

Five bristles and runs a hand over the mess Klaus made, trying to restore his normal style.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue this thrilling conversation, I’ll be taking my leave now. Enjoy your day doing…what do you two do, anyway? Contract various STDs and debate the nuances of Scooby Doo?”

You let out a loud cackle at that, which makes Five smile crookedly in your direction; right before he blinks away, leaving Klaus rolling his eyes and you with an inexplicably warm feeling in your chest.

Another week has passed and you and Klaus are still playing the no-ties dating game. Since you had turned Five on to your coffee making skills, the two of you have developed a bit of a friendship. While Klaus likes to stay up late and sleep in the next day, you are up early. Despite your long work hours, you generally don’t need a lot of sleep to function. You run mostly on motivation, routine, and caffeine. Which, coincidentally, so does Five.

Because you are both up in the early morning hours, you and Five will end up meeting in the kitchen when the sun is barely above the horizon. He will sit quietly at the small kitchen table and watch while you go about making coffee for the two of you. Neither of you say much until the coffee is finished brewing and has been poured. Then you sit down across from Five and he’ll actually engage in conversation.

At first, it was like pulling teeth to get Five to answer any questions, but after a while he warmed up. Now, you’re pretty sure he actually likes sitting down and talking to you. This morning is no different, and you and Five are in the kitchen, comfortably talking and sipping coffee when Klaus wanders in.

He yawns and stretches his sinewy body before flashing you a smile. “Morning, babe. I feel like waffles. You guys want some waffles?”

Five says nothing, but you smile back up at Klaus. “As long as you aren’t suggesting I get up and make them, then yes, I’m up for some waffles. We can go to that diner down the street.”

Klaus comes over and starts running his hands through your hair, massaging your scalp in the process and combing out the tangles with his fingers. It feels nice and relaxing and you close your eyes. When you open them again, your gaze lands on Five and your eyes meet. Something about the way he is looking at you makes your face flush with embarrassment and you gently push Klaus’s hands away, laughing.

“Quit it,” you say lightly, even though under normal circumstances you love it when Klaus plays with your hair.

He takes a step back, unfazed, and goes to pour himself a cup of coffee. Five is still watching you and you have to avert your eyes just to think straight. You scoot your chair back and stand up, turning to Klaus.

“So, are we going or what?”

Klaus shrugs. “Sure, you buying?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t I always?”

“Yes, you do. And then I pay you back in a much more physical way.”

“You realize that makes you sound like you’re prostituting yourself for breakfast foods.”

“I’ve done a lot worse for a lot less.”

You laugh and then you see Five get up and start to make his way out of the kitchen. “Five wait!”

He stops and turns to you, coffee cup still in hand, and eyes you up. “Yeah?”

“Come with us.”

“I don’t think so. You two toddlers go ahead.”

You frown and jut your hip out. “First of all, stop insulting us. Second, name one good reason you don’t want to come with us. I mean, you do eat, don’t you? Or do you survive solely on black coffee and sarcasm?”

You see that faint smile playing on Five’s lips again. The one that gives you a little flutter in your stomach when you see it; because you know you’re one of the few that can actually get him to break.

“Yes, I do eat. If surviving on coffee and sarcasm were a thing, it would have made my life in the apocalypse much easier.”

He’s kidding, but you still feel bad about your comment and you cringe a little at the mention of his traumatic past. Klaus, though, just waves a hand in the air dramatically.

“Come on, Fivey! What’s not to like about spending time with your favorite brother, while also getting some free waffles?”

“Pleeeaase?” you beg while batting your lashes exaggeratedly in Five’s direction.

After another annoyed eye roll and a huffy sigh, Five relents. “Fine! I will go to your stupid diner and eat your stupid waffles.”

“That a boy!” Klaus goes to slap Five on the back, but he has already blinked out of the kitchen.

“I hope it’s ok that I invited him?” you ask.

“Of course it’s ok. I can’t believe he said yes, though. I’ve been trying to get him out and socializing forever. It’s like you have a special magic touch with him. You’re like the Number Five Whisperer.”

You laugh. “Yeah, right. I think he just wanted breakfast.”

Klaus shakes his head. “No, really. I’ve seen him around you. He actually listens to you and isn’t mean.”

“He’s mean to me all the time!”

“Well, compared to what the rest of the world gets from him, that’s nothing. He once called me the human version of a shart.”

When you can’t help doubling over with laughter at that, Klaus puts a hand on his hip. “It was very hurtful.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious. Say what you want, but the man is funny. Whether he intends to be or not.”

“Just you wait. When he starts comparing you to shitting his pants, then we’ll see how funny you think he is.”

Once you are all showered and dressed, the three of you walk over to the diner for breakfast. You are planning on going directly to work from there, so you have your bag slung over your shoulder. The weight of it is evident by the way you’re slumped to one side while you lug it around, and Five eyes it curiously as you slide into a booth. You and Klaus are on one side while Five is across from you.

“What do you have in there? Bricks?” Five asks you as he picks up a menu.

“Yes. I carry around a bag full of bricks. One never knows when one might need to perform an emergency masonry job.”

You see Five’s lips purse together in a failed attempt at trying not to smile, avoiding your eyes by pretending to peruse the menu.

Klaus lets out a loud hoot of laughter and puts his arm around your shoulders. “Looks like you may have met your match in the snide comment department, Fivey.”

Five glances up and flicks a stray piece of hair off his face. “Doubtful. I am, and will always remain, the king of snide comments.”

You and Five exchange amused looks and you peer down at your own menu. A waitress comes to the table to take your orders and Klaus flashes her one of his beautiful smiles and you can see she is instantly smitten by him.

“A round of waffles and coffee for the table, please.” Klaus gestures to all three of you. “And make sure to give the bill to my sugar mama over here.”

The waitress gives you a funny look and you shrug with a smile before she wanders off to put in the order.

“Klaus!” Five hisses, leaning forward.

“What?”

“If you can’t pay for your own breakfast, I will. Don’t make her do it.”

Klaus looks genuinely taken aback. “Why? She offered.”

“Because it’s…” Five pauses and sighs and if you thought he was capable of embarrassment that might have been what he was conveying. “…it’s not gentlemanly.”

You chew on your bottom lip and look down in your lap so that you don’t laugh, but also so that Five doesn’t see how completely shocked you are at this statement.

Klaus frowns at Five. “I forget sometimes that you’re an old coot under that sleek body of yours. Don’t be so old-fashioned, Fivey. The times they are a-changin’.” He turns to you. “Besides, am I nothing but a gentleman?”

They are both looking at you for some sort of response and you laugh nervously. “Yes, you are mostly a gentleman. And I don’t mind paying; I did offer.” Klaus looks smug and Five rolls his eyes. “However,” you point a finger at each of them, “neither one of you offered to carry my bag for me on the way here.”

You watch with satisfaction as both of their mouths hang open for a second before they realize they have nothing to say to that. Just then, the waitress comes by with your coffees and starts to set them down in front of you on the tabletop. As you smirk to yourself, you hear both men utter a soft “sorry” under their breath before taking a sip from their mugs.

Five clears his throat. “You never did answer me. What are you carrying around in there?”

You glance at the overstuffed tote bag next to you. “Well, some extra clothes and toiletries, but also my laptop and a bunch of notebooks and file folders. I’m applying for a large bank loan and need to make sure all of my ducks are in a row.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re planning on buying your café.”

Klaus leans back against the booth. “Yeah, she’s cute and smart. Hey, another thing you two have in common!”

Five takes another drink and mutters over his mug. “I am not cute.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Klaus looks thoughtful as he scans Five up and down. “You’ve got more of that angry, smoldering, sex god look about you.”

“Shut up, Klaus.”

“He’s right,” you hear yourself saying and your cheeks immediately burn when you realize you said it out loud. You notice Five’s face reddens a little as well when he looks at you in surprise.

Klaus is oblivious and he clinks his coffee mug against yours in a toasting gesture. “See? Everyone thinks so. Now, the next step is to share some of that super sexiness with another human being and not just your fist.”

With his face still flushed, Five clenches his jaw even tighter. “Shut. Up. Klaus.”

“I know it’s convenient and doesn’t require you to leave the house, but choking the old chicken doesn’t replace the need for human contact. It’s nice to flog your log once in a while, but you need to branch out. Let someone else take Fivey Junior for a spin. Know what I mean?”

You are certain you are about to witness a murder firsthand as you watch Five pick up his butter knife in a clenched fist, leaning dangerously close to his brother across the table, when the waitress comes back with your food. As she plunks down the plates in front of everyone, Klaus continues to dig his own grave.

“Hey there,” he squints at the waitress’ name tag, “Sandra. What do you think of my brother over here?”

Sandra looks visibly uncomfortable as she glances from Klaus’s beaming face to Five’s murderous one and back again.

“I’m sorry?”

“On a scale of one to ten, with one being you would not bang him if he were the last man on earth, to ten being you want to jump his brittle old bones right here in this diner booth, how would you rate him?”

You sink down in your seat and close your eyes, thinking that maybe if you aren’t actually looking when Five rams that knife through Klaus’s neck, you won’t have to answer too many questions from the cops. You risk opening one eye a slit and you can see Five fuming, nostrils flared and neck veins bulging. The poor waitress is not sure what to do as she stands there awkwardly, so you decide to jump in.

You laugh theatrically. “He’s just kidding! I bet him $20 to say that. I’m sorry…I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”

Sandra relaxes a little and sighs with relief. “Oh, ok. No worries. Enjoy your meal.”

As she walks away, you turn to Klaus with a glare.

“What?” he asks innocently.

“You’re terrible,” you tell him, disapprovingly.

“I’m trying to do the guy a favor and help him get his ex-assassin wiener wet!”

Suddenly, Five’s palm bangs on the table, making the plates and cutlery dance and clatter. You and Klaus both jump in your booth.

“I do not,” seethes Five, “need your help or anyone else’s for that matter.” He relaxes a bit, unclenching his jaw and rolling his shoulders back. His eyes pass over to you as he starts to cut into his waffle. One corner of his mouth curls up as he stabs a piece with his fork. “Fivey Junior is doing just fine, thank you,” he quips before taking a bite and giving you a quick wink.

Your stomach feels warm and fluttery all of a sudden and you let out a snort of laughter. The subject is dropped after that and Klaus eventually moves on to something else that involves his and Five’s apartment. Your mind wanders as you eat your food, staring into space as the two brothers chatter next to you. You didn’t mean for your mind to wander to that, but now that it was brought up, you find it front and center in your brain.

You find yourself wondering exactly what Five’s sexual situation is. You’ve never seen him with a woman, or a man, but he’s certainly good looking enough to get either one. Maybe his surly attitude turns people off? You know all about his unique situation, and so maybe he’s never had the opportunity to be with anyone else in that way. You steal a glance over at him, noticing the way the tendons in his forearms tighten and relax as he gestures while he talks and that warm feeling is back.

I wonder what kind of package he’s working with in those pants of his? He’s not a huge guy, but he sure as hell carries himself like he’s got a giant schlong. I would not be surprised if he was packing some serious equipment in there. I bet it could do some real damage…all that anger has to go somewhere. And I bet he knows how to use it, too. Probably could bang you right through a fucking wall –"

“Think twelve inches is too big?”

You drop your fork onto your plate with a loud clang as Five’s question snaps you out of your perverted daydream. Your face is suddenly very hot.

“What?” you ask in a wide-eyed panic.

Five and Klaus both give you a weird look.

“The shelving unit to put under the bathroom sink, remember I was telling you about them the other day? What do you think about the size?” Klaus explains.

“Oh, right. Uh…I don’t know,” you stammer.

Five turns back to Klaus. “It might be a little tight but I bet I could make it fit. Probably have to shove it in there really good, though.”

At that, you dissolve in a burst of nervous laughter that has the other two looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. You can’t stop laughing, though, and you cover your mouth with your hand while your body shakes uncontrollably.

Five and Klaus exchange confused glances. “Ok…weird,” Klaus says before going back to his waffles.

After a good thirty seconds of hyperventilating, you finally calm down enough and you wipe the tears from your eyes.

Five points a fork at you. “What the hell was that?”

You shake your head, suppressing another round of laughter. “Nothing, I was just thinking of something from earlier. You had to be there.”

“Clearly.”

After a few more minutes of silence, Klaus turns to you. “I know you’ve been worried about this loan and making sure you have everything in order. I’m no good at that kind of thing, but our boy Cinco over here probably is. Maybe he can look things over for you.”

“Oh!” You turn to Five. “Really? You’re good with finances and all that?”

“I’m good at everything, so by default I’m also good at finances,” he answers offhandedly, not looking up from his plate.

“Oh, right, silly me. I forgot, you’re a goddamn genius.”

He looks up and nods without a hint of irony. “Correct. I am.”

You roll your eyes. “Ok, never mind, sorry I asked.”

“Alright, don’t get all huffy. If you want me to look things over, I can do that.”

“Well, if it’s not cutting too much into your time of sucking your own dick, then that would be great.”

Klaus lets out a loud laugh and Five raises one eyebrow as he leans back and drapes his arm over the back of the booth with a smirk. “I think I can pencil you in somewhere.” He picks up his coffee mug, stopping just before he takes a drink. “Incidentally, that would have been another skill I could have used during those solitary years. But, alas, as brilliant as I am, I found I lack the flexibility.”

You bite at the inside of your cheek to stifle your laughter. “There’s a visual I don’t need.”

Klaus nearly chokes on his food. “Holy shit, did you actually try that? I’m not saying I haven’t myself, but I just didn’t think you…well, I guess there were a lot of lonely hours to kill, so like what did you try first? Rolling up in a ball, or –"

You slap a hand over his mouth. “Ok then! I can see this conversation is headed in a very weird direction, so I am just going to excuse myself and head to work now.”

After you gather up your bag, Klaus gets up to let you out of the booth. As you hoist the heavy tote over your shoulder, you address Five. “If you really are serious, I would be glad to have your help.”

“I was serious.”

“Thank you. Would you be available later today around 4? You can come by the café. I’ll even make you some coffee.”

“Sure. See you then.”

You give him a smile and then turn to Klaus. “See you later?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be around.”

Klaus leans down to kiss you, which is nothing out of the ordinary of course, but you feel weird being so affectionate in front of Five and you break the kiss off quicker than normal. You say goodbye to them both and as you go to leave, Klaus gives you a slap on the ass. When you turn to give him a fake scowl, you catch Five looking at you. He’s watching you with that intense look of his that you still have trouble reading the meaning behind. Whatever it is, though, you’re finding that you kind of like it.

Chapter Two: Fivey Junior

As I leave the diner and Klaus goes off to do whatever the hell Klaus does, I stand on the sidewalk outside for a minute or two. My hands in my pants pockets, I lean up against the building and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. What the fuck am I doing?

It’s true I wanted nothing to do with her in the beginning. I’m tired of having to deal with Klaus’s random friends and whatever stray he decides to bring home for a week or two. They usually end up making a mess, drinking all of my good beer, and eating my Grape Nuts cereal. But then they are eventually gone and he moves on to the next one. Men and women. Sometimes both at the same time. It’s exhausting just watching him and I honestly have no idea how he does it. I’m definitely too old for that shit. Meanwhile, though, I have to live with it.

So, when she showed up, I could not have cared less. Just add it to the long line of other free loaders. But then she stuck around longer than usual. She was there most mornings and most nights. I couldn’t turn around without finding another stupid pink hair tie of hers and there was suddenly strawberry scented shampoo in the shower. According to Klaus things were not serious between them, but he liked having her around and apparently she felt the same about him.

Then, that day she grabbed my arm and accused me of being a mean old man, well I may have shifted my opinion of her just slightly. No one ever challenges me and they certainly never grab me like that. Not without a serious death wish, anyway. But when she did it, I don’t know why, but I didn’t mind. I hadn’t spent enough time around her to really study her up close, but once she was in my face, calling me rude, I could see the little speckles in her eyes. And see how pink her lips were and smell that strawberry shampoo. When I shook her hand, it felt soft and warm.

It was like she made it a personal mission of hers to wear me down, and I have to admit it really fucking worked. She’s nice and bubbly and sunshiny all the time, and that should be the most irritating goddamn thing in the world, but for some reason it’s not. She also calls me out on my bullshit, which no one ever does, outside of my family, and so I have to admire her for that.

That morning when she made me coffee for the first time, that sealed the deal. Not because it was damn good coffee, because it was. It was that she genuinely wanted to talk to me. I have no idea why; she wasn’t wrong when she called me rude before. Still, as much as I didn’t mind the company, I wasn’t going to put too much effort in. I figured she’d be gone soon enough.

The days that followed, though, she was still there. And now every morning I meet her in the kitchen and we sit and chat and drink our coffee. And it’s nice. Nice enough that I make sure to get up extra early every day just to have that time with her to myself. She’s intelligent and funny, and almost as much of a sarcastic smart-ass as myself.

She’s beautiful, too. I can’t stop watching her any time she’s around me. Whatever she’s doing, I’m mesmerized and I have to remind myself to stop staring like a creep. I like the way she moves with confidence around me and the way she gestures with her hands when she talks. I like her voice in the morning when it’s still a little raspy from sleep. I try not to look at the rest of her body, because I know she’s technically too young for me and I’m being a gross old man, but fuck, she is sexy. I know why Klaus likes her. She really is fucking delightful.

This morning I really didn’t want to get breakfast. After I saw Klaus stroking her hair like that, the last thing I wanted to do was see more of the two of them shoved in my face. When she berated me for not going, though, I had a hard time saying no again. She seems to be able to do that to me. But then what just happened back there in the diner? Was I flirting ? Did I actually wink at her while talking about my dick? Holy shit, did I just tell her I tried to suck my own dick? Yes. Yes, I did.

I drop my head back on the brick building, hard, and groan. What is wrong with me? I am a grown ass man. I am not some love-struck teenager with a hard on for every girl that looks in my direction. I do not pine for women. And let’s not gloss over the fact that she’s dating Klaus, my actual brother. They might not be serious, but that’s a pretty shitty thing to do. Fuck, I need to get a life.

And now, because Klaus is completely oblivious and also apparently thinks I have too much free time on my hands, I am committed to seeing her again today. Of course I don’t mind helping her and I’m happy to do it, but I’m nervous just thinking about it. Why should I be, though? It’s just us talking over coffee like we have been for several mornings now. The only thing different is that it will be in an outside location. At her coffee shop. Just the two of us, no Klaus. Almost like… I swear to god if you even entertain that idea right now… date.

“God fucking fuck damn it FUCK!” I yell out loud on the street while I kick at the brick wall with my good shoes, scuffing them up in the process.

Several people are looking at me like I’m an insane person and a couple of them are crossing the street to get away from the raving lunatic trying to beat up a building. To avoid the concerned stares, I blink away and reappear a few streets over. I might as well keep walking, maybe that will clear my head and stop with all these ridiculous thoughts.

It’s a nice day, at least, and I end up at a park, taking a seat on a bench as I wallow in my own self-pity. There’s an older man on the bench next to me, reaching into a bag of bread and throwing the crumbs out to the pigeons gathering around his feet. He looks over at me and I give him a nod of approval, thinking that looks like a nice way to pass the time, but have you seen the price of bread these days? I lean forward and put my head in my hands, groaning out loud at myself while my pigeon friend gives me the side eye.

One thing that has started happening since she came along is that I sometimes forget my real age. I was at least able to age myself up by 8 years or so when we arrived in this timeline, thanks to some tricky time-math and a whole lot of luck, but I’m still well older than my body portrays me. It used to shock the hell out of me every time I’d pass by a mirror and see a stranger looking back at me. Then, after a while, I got used to it and I’m not going to complain; trading your broken old body in for a new model definitely has its perks. No more aching bones, tired muscles, or mysterious bruises that seem to appear out of nowhere. And I won’t get started on the new and improved libido, but suffice to say it’s a nice bonus.

Even though I have gotten used to the newer, younger me, I have never felt young mentally. I have remained the same stubborn old man that has resided in my head for decades now. It’s a weird contradiction to have the energy to stay out all night, yet still rather be at home catching up on this season’s Antiques Roadshow. But this is the first time in the last few years that I’ve started to feel more like my younger self. And maybe it’s because I don’t want to feel like a dirty old man, lusting after a woman more than half my age. That is definitely part of it, but the other part is that she just makes me forget. She makes me feel younger.

The hours are dragging by, but I still don’t feel like going home, so I continue to wander around. I come to the conclusion that I am being a selfish, delusional bastard and I just need to cut it out. If I really think about it and start psychoanalyzing myself, there’s a clear reason why I’m having all of these misdirected feelings. It’s obvious that my years of solitude have left me ill equipped when it comes to forming human relationships. In my still-infantile mind, a simple friendship between a man and woman has manifested itself into something more, because it doesn’t know the difference. The chemicals in my brain are confused and don’t know when and how to release themselves at the appropriate times.

I know that dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine are produced upon initial attraction to another person, and that oxytocin is released when you presume you are in love. Everyone knows that. So, it’s obvious that I just need to reprogram my brain so that it is not confusing mutual amicability with something more. As usual, if you approach something from a scientific aspect and remove emotions from the equation, problems become much easier to solve. Simple science makes everything so much clearer.

It’s finally close to 4pm when I’m supposed to meet her at the café, so I start making my way over there. I have a new outlook on this meeting now. I am happy to look over her finances and make any suggestions that I see could be helpful. If she asks for my opinion, I’ll give it. Then, I will take my leave, go home, and continue on with my life. No more of this internal longing bullshit.

Then I arrive there and…well, fuck. So much for science.

I am standing outside of the café looking in through the windows and I can see her in there. She’s standing next to one of the tables, talking with another woman who is sitting down with a mug in front of her. I obviously can’t hear her, but I watch as her face breaks into a beautiful smile and she laughs. A laugh I can hear in my mind because I’ve memorized it. She crosses her arms over her chest, which squeezes her breasts together and accentuates her cleavage. When she finishes her conversation and walks back towards the counter at the front, my eyes travel down to her round butt bouncing along in the tight jeans she’s wearing.

“Excuse me.”

I am snapped out of my voyeuristic weirdness by an annoyed voice belonging to a woman behind me. Apparently, I’m blocking the doorway and she would like to enter the building. I open the door for her and she walks past me while I try to get a grip. I follow the woman inside and up to the counter.

When she sees me, she smiles and I automatically shove my hands in my pockets to try and portray an air of casualness.

“Hey there, Fivey,” she says with a big shit-eating grin.

I shake my head and attempt to look mad. “Do not call me that. It’s bad enough Klaus does.”

“It’s so cute, though! It’s like his little pet name for you.”

“I’m not sure why my idiot brother feels the need to make my name even weirder than it already is.”

She snorts out a laugh and then bites her bottom lip, and honestly both of those things are going to send me through the roof, she’s so fucking cute.

“Ok, so no nickname, fair enough. Still willing to help me out?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

She turns away, but not before I see an eyeroll, as she grabs a coffee cup and fills it up, handing it over the counter to me.

“Here you are. One free coffee. As promised.”

“Thanks. I can pay for it though, you don’t really have to give it to me.”

“No please, just take it. I promise I won’t think you are ungentlemanly for it,” she says with a small smile and I can see she’s obviously teasing me about my comment in the diner earlier.

“You make fun of me, but one of the perks of being with an older man is that we know how to take care of our ladies.”

It just came out of my mouth without thinking and I can feel my face getting hot. I’m just praying that she can’t see me blushing. What the hell is going on with me?

“Oh, is that so? I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, then,” she says with a flirty tone.

I have no idea what to say next without sounding like a complete asshole, so I just don’t say anything and instead take a sip of my coffee.

She clears her throat. “Well, let me go grab my stuff and we can sit down at one of the tables.”

She disappears into the back for a minute, returning with her heavy looking tote bag from earlier. I follow her over to a small two-top table and we sit across from one another. As she fishes around in her bag and unloads her laptop and some file folders, I watch as a lock of hair falls in front her face and all I can think about is reaching over and tucking it behind her ear. Obviously, I do not do this.

I look over all of her financial information and everything looks like it’s in order. When I start asking about something I’m reading on her laptop, she gets annoyed that she can’t see the screen well, and so she comes around to my side of the table, sitting directly next to me. I can smell that strawberry shampoo again and our legs brush together. I swallow nervously.

“I think everything looks good here. Your credit scores are high, you have no debts, and you’re asking for a reasonable amount. I don’t really see why they would deny you.”

“Do you think so? I know it’s stupid, but I’m so nervous! The meeting with the bank is tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“It’s just…if I don’t get this loan I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve put so much into this place, I already feel like it’s my own. But I’m not going to work as a coffee shop manager for the rest of my life. I at least want to be a business owner. You know, something I can be proud of.”

I nod. “I think you should be proud of yourself no matter what.”

She scoffs a little. “Ok, thanks Dad,” she says sarcastically.

Just like that, I come crashing down to reality as I’m reminded who I really am. I am not a 20-something year old. I am old enough to be her actual dad. And while that really has no bearing on anything, considering nothing is going to happen between us anyway, it’s still a kick in the nuts. She must see it on my face, because I see her cringe.

“That was a joke. I don’t actually think of you as a dad.”

“I know.” My voice is clipped as I try to hide my embarrassment.

She leans into me and bumps my shoulder with hers in a friendly gesture. “Thank you. For helping me with this.”

“You didn’t need my help. You’ve got this.”

“Well, thank you anyway. And thank you for putting up with me. I know I annoy you by always hanging around your place.”

"It’s true, you are a giant pain in the ass,” I say with a smile. “But, as giant pains in the asses go, you’re not so bad.”

“Aw…thanks Fivey!”

She laughs at my irritated face, which I am only making to keep up the façade. She can call me anything she wants, really. I don’t mind.

I am sitting at home the next afternoon, when she comes bursting through the door of the apartment. She's absolutely bouncing up and down with glee and when she sees Klaus she runs over to him and he picks her up in a big bear hug. She has on what I assume to be her business attire from her bank meeting, and I can’t stop staring. It’s a tight pencil skirt with a short, fitted blazer on top and black high heels. When Klaus lifts her up, her jacket pulls up in the back and I am treated to a very small window of her bare skin just above the waist of her skirt. I’m not sure if I want to look there, or down a little bit lower to wear the material is hugging her hips and ass.

“I got it!” she shrieks and kisses Klaus before he sets her down again.

“That’s great, babe!” he tells her.

Then she turns to me, as I stand there staring like a dope. Before I know it she has her arms wrapped around me and my face is covered by her hair as she hooks her chin over my shoulder. I don’t know what to do, I’m practically paralyzed with shock. I can’t even bring my arms up to hug her back, so they just stay limply at my sides. I take a breath and close my eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair and skin. She lets go of me and steps back and my immediate impulse is to pull her right back into me again. But I don’t. Instead, I just continue doing nothing.

“I cannot thank you enough, Five. You helped me do this.”

“I…I really didn’t do anything.”

“Well, you gave me the confidence I needed and made me feel like I knew what I was doing before I went in there. So, thank you. Really.”

She is smiling so genuinely and sweetly at me and I just can’t believe she is giving me any credit for anything. But I figure if I keep putting off her compliments she’ll get annoyed, so instead, I get weird and flustered.

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome. No problem.” I look from her to Klaus and back again. “Alright, well I’m going to leave you two dimwits to yourselves. See you later.” Then I blink away before either of them can respond.

It’s the next morning and I wake up early, but I don’t get up to meet her for coffee this time. I can’t keep torturing myself like this and pretending we have some sort of connection is just sad and pathetic. The truth is, she is with Klaus right now. Maybe they aren’t technically in a committed relationship, but she’s here in the apartment because of him, not me. And because they supposedly aren’t serious, that also means they will eventually tire of one another and one day she just won’t be here anymore. And it makes me fucking sick to even think about it.

Instead, I start thinking about her running into Klaus’s arms and kissing him yesterday. I hate how much that bothered me. I hate how much I wanted that to be me. I’m lying here in my bed, alone, and all I can think about is lifting her up in my arms, her body pressed to mine as she kisses me. It’s so fucking pathetic and yet, I can’t stop. I replay it over and over in my mind; her smile and her lips and the adorable way she would squeak if I squeezed her to me.

Soon, my pathetic little daydream has evolved into something much dirtier than a hug and kiss. I think about how her tits would feel pressed up against my chest. About how her firm ass would feel under my hands. And how badly I want her legs wrapped around my waist.

I groan sadly and palm my erection through my underwear. Fuck. Rather than sit and jerk off in my bed, I decide I should just head to the shower and kills two birds with one stone. The bathroom is directly across from my bedroom and I make the quick blink over so that I won’t have the humiliating experience of bumping into the person that’s responsible for my boner problem in the first place.

In the shower, my imagination runs wild. I obviously have never seen her naked, but I can certainly conjure up an image in my head that I decide is probably pretty close. I picture her straddling me, my cock deep inside of her, while she fucks me hard and fast. Those tits that I’ve only seen the outlines of through her t-shirts are bouncing up and down in front of my face and, Jesus Chris, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My hand is acting as a sad substitute for her tight cunt as I lean my head on my hand against the wall and close my eyes.

I imagine her moaning my name as she throws her head back and works her hips harder and faster on top of me. I can feel her soft flesh as my fingers dig into her sides and push her down; all the while thrusting my own hips up because I can’t get enough. As a final act of delusion, I throw her off of me and flip her over. I pound into her from behind, listening as she cries and sobs from the intensity of it all. I hear her pleading, telling me she’s sorry for ever wanting anyone else but me; that it will only be me from now on. I urge her on as I penetrate her harder, demanding she fucks only me from now on. She is mine and I’ll be goddamned if anyone else is going to touch her from here on out.

I’m only yours, Five…you’re all I want…all I need. I love—

“Hey, Klaus, have you seen my…Oh shit!”

The sound of her voice in real life has me floundering, trying to remember what the fuck is going on, and I turn around just in time to see her horrified face which mirrors mine. Our eyes lock for what has to be a fraction of a second, but feels like an eternity, and I see her glance briefly downward and then back up again.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she stammers, before quickly closing the shower curtain with a flourish.

I don’t know what to say or do, and there’s no time to do it anyway, as I stand there with my eyes wide and my dick in my hands. I hear the bathroom door slam shut and I’m left alone again. If I have felt shameful or embarrassed about any of my actions in the past, they are nothing compared with what I’m feeling now.

I want to die. I want to dissolve into liquid form and slip down the drain, washing away with all the other filth and disappearing into the sewers. I quickly contemplate my options. I’m a smart guy, I can come up with something. I could blink away and never return to this apartment ever again. Klaus might wonder what happened to me, but eventually he’d get over it. After all, it’s not the first time I’ve vanished without a trace. I could try some serious time travel again, maybe jumping backwards this time. Give the 1800s a try; live out the rest of my days doing something mundane like a blacksmith or a chimney sweep.

Instead, I just stand there, the shame and embarrassment washing over me. The most fucked up thing is that I’m still hard. I saw her face and her shock and it still didn’t dissuade my traitorous hormones. I need to finish and I’m horrified at the thought. Not horrified enough, though, because I start stroking myself again. I keep picturing her in my mind, even though I know she knows what I am doing and maybe that’s part of why I like it.

In some psychotic part of my brain, I like that she saw me jerking off. She doesn’t know that it was her I was thinking of, but I can start to convince myself that she might like it. She might like that I was fucking my hand to images of her naked body on top of mine. She might actually be flattered that I’m thinking of her riding me hard and fast and violently. That I’m imagining her moaning my name and coming around my cock.

A few more seconds of vigorous self-pleasuring and my hand is stilling as I unleash ropes of cum over my stomach and onto the shower floor. It mixes with the water and rushes down the drain as my eyes clench tightly shut and I groan as quietly as I can through gritted teeth. It’s bad enough she saw me in here, she doesn’t need to hear me, too.

After I am milked dry, and my breathing starts to slow again, I let go of my shrinking dick and wash myself off. I feel like the loser of the century. She’s probably out there right now, telling Klaus all about it and laughing. They’re probably discussing how sad I am and how much I really need to get a life. And they’d be right.

Once I’m cleaned off and dressed again, I listen closely from inside my room, trying to determine if she’s still here or not. After a while, I still haven’t heard signs of anyone else, and I figure the coast is clear. I blink out of my room and head towards the kitchen. I need a fucking drink and I don’t even care that it’s still morning. Anything to help erase this horrifying feeling.

In the kitchen, I’m looking through the cupboard where we keep the booze, trying to decide if it’s a vodka or a whiskey kind of morning, when I hear soft foot-steps and a gentle clearing of a throat. Fuck. Can I just get a fucking break once in a while? My spine stiffens and I think of just blinking out of there without even turning around, but then she starts talking to me.

“Hey, so…I am so sorry for busting in on you like that. Klaus had said he was going to take a shower, so I just assumed that was him in there, and I was looking for my slippers that I thought I left in the bathroom, and that was really stupid of me to just assume that…I am really very sorry, I would never have, if I had known it was you, obviously I wouldn’t have, but like I said, I thought it was Klaus, and…ugh…I’m sorry. I hope this isn’t going to make things weird.”

I almost laugh at her run-on sentence of stammering apologies. Almost. Instead, I grab a bottle of vodka and turn around with a glare.

“So, when exactly are you leaving?”

She hesitates. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when are you getting the fuck out of here? I realize you and Klaus are having fun playing house or whatever the fuck it is you do around here, but this is my apartment, too. In fact, it’s more mine than his, since I pay the bulk of the rent. And I don’t remember asking for a third roommate.”

I see a brief look of hurt cross her face before she is challenging back. “Look, just because I accidentally walked in on you, doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole about it. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? I’m not embarrassed, sweetheart, so don't flatter yourself. And this has nothing to do with that. I’m just wondering when I can look forward to not seeing your face every time I turn around in my own goddamn house!”

She nods, her lips pursed together, and her hands on her hips. “Alright, Five, you win. I thought maybe we were beginning to be friends, but I can see that is not the case. I will do my best to stay out of your way. I’m sorry for any inconveniences I’ve caused you.”

After another few seconds of angry glaring, she turns around and leaves. I take the stopper out of the vodka and tip the entire bottle back, swallowing at least three full gulps before I can’t take the burning in my throat and stomach anymore. I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know why I have to be a fucking dick to everyone, especially the people I care about. Well, I guess I should look on the bright side. I won’t have to worry about letting my true feelings out around her. Because now she wants nothing to do with me.

Chapter Three: Crazy Train

It was bad, there was no mistaking it. And it was all your fault; at least the beginning part. You certainly hadn’t meant to walk in on him in the shower. You really had assumed it was Klaus in there. You had been wrong. Very, very wrong. So, yeah, you really fucked that one up.

Things had been going so well, too. You were actually getting along and finding that you really liked spending time with Five. You assumed he liked spending time with you, too, even though he never came right out and said so. Although, with him, you doubted he would ever admit to that. But you knew he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered even speaking to you, let alone hanging out with you.

Even though you’re the one who did the unannounced shower barge-in, you still think he’s overreacting. Sure, you saw him completely naked, but it was only for a couple of seconds and it’s not like you haven’t seen a naked man before. And sure, you are like 99% positive he was banging out some knuckle babies while he was in there, but that part is not your fault. How were you to know there would be some salami slapping going on in there when you opened the curtain?

Now he’s pissed off at you and has gone back to his old, dickish ways. He’s barely acknowledging you anymore and he stopped coming into the kitchen for coffee in the mornings. You understand he’s probably embarrassed, but he should be able to get over it, for fuck’s sake. He’s always claiming he’s the mature one around here, but he sure as hell isn’t acting like it right now.

You definitely think he should be able to move on from that little incident, but you can’t seem to stop thinking about it, either. Although, not for the same reasons. It had only been a couple of seconds if that, but that image has been burned into your brain. And not necessarily in a bad way. In that tiny glimpse that you got, it did not disappoint.

You keep finding yourself staring off, lost in another inappropriate daydream, as you remember exactly what he had looked like. Wet, naked, and clearly aroused, it was enough of a picture to keep you occupied. If men have spank banks, what do you call it for women? Rub hub? Finger vault? Whatever it is, that image is in yours now. And, fuck, it’s a good one.

Klaus has an amazing body, there’s no doubt about that. He’s lithe and toned and has a cinched-in waist that you’re envious of. But when you saw Five’s body…holy shit. He’s a little more solid than Klaus, and his muscles are well-defined but not huge. His chest is smooth and firm, and his abs look like they’re cut from stone, all the way down to the soft line of hair trailing southward to the main event. From the quick peek you had gotten of the goods in his hand, he either somehow used his powers to beef himself up, or that may have been the one thing in his tragic life that he lucked out on. Because, damn. Combine that with a tight ass, the water cascading down his body, and his dark, wet hair pushed off his face, and that is definitely enough to give you some material for the next time you’re double-clicking your mouse.

It's a week after “the incident”, and you have just come back from work and it’s late. You haven’t been over to see Klaus in a few days because you’ve been so busy, but you decide to stop by because you know he’ll still be up. Plus, you’re feeling the need to get some sexual release that isn’t in the form of your hand or vibrator, and you know he’ll be up for that, too.

You don’t see Five anywhere, which is probably a good thing, and you and Klaus hang out in the living room for a while, having a couple of drinks and catching up. When you decide to head to the bedroom, that’s when Five makes his presence known. Loudly.

Mid-make out and partially undressed, the two of you hear the pounding bass and blaring guitar riff of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” coming from Five’s bedroom. He is blasting it at full volume and as much as you like listening to Brian Johnson scream at the top of his lungs, it’s not really setting the mood at the moment. You ignore it for a little while longer, trying to focus on Klaus’s hands working their way down between your legs. When it’s clear you’re not really into it, he stops.

“What’s wrong?”

You huff. “Seriously? Isn’t this annoying you, too?”

Klaus shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s not that bad. I like loud music, and Five has good taste.”

“Well, it’s distracting and you know he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just rude.”

“Just ignore it.”

He pulls you on top of him, and you straddle his waist. But when you lean down to kiss him again, it’s clear you are not going to be able to get your mind in the game; not with the walls shaking from the constant pulse of the mini-rock concert going on down the hall. You let out another frustrated growl.

“I’m going to go say something,” you tell Klaus, pushing yourself off of him.

He props himself up on his elbows. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You roll your eyes. “Please. What’s he doing to do? I’m not scared of him.”

“Right, no, I know. Me either. But…”

“But, what?”

“You know, he’s just…testy.”

As you’re getting off the bed, you give Klaus an exasperated look. “He’s a big man baby is what he is. And I’m tired of his shit.”

Before Klaus can say anything more, you’re walking out the door and heading to the source of the music. The song has now switched over to “Crazy Train”. You pound on the door to Five’s room, waiting with your arms folded across your chest. That’s when you remember you are not wearing a bra. Or pants. You only have a loose-fitting t-shirt on and some ridiculous underwear with cartoon cats on them because you haven’t done laundry in a while and all your good panties are in the wash. Luckily, the shirt covers up most of your crotch area.

You’re not getting an answer, so you pound the door with your fist again. Mid-pound, the door swings open wide, the blaring music becoming even louder. Five is already in the middle of a rant.

“Klaus, I have told you a thousand fucking times, I do not have your lighter…oh.”

Five stops mid-sentence when he realizes it’s you. He’s standing there shirtless, with only his black pants on, belt unbuckled and hanging open. His hair is disheveled, and he seems to be swaying slightly; holding onto the door for balance. That’s when you notice he has a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. He looks at you for a second, his hooded eyes slowly moving over your body with his mouth partially open before his face changes and he smirks.

He takes another swig of whiskey from the bottle before addressing you. “Something I can help you with, princess?”

You’re stunned into silence for a beat or two, trying to process the fact that you are once again blessed with another glimpse of his body, as well as the fact that he is drunk. You hesitate with your mouth hanging open like a moron, which Five obviously notices because he has that damn arrogant look on his face again. Finally, you snap out of it.

“Is there a reason you’re blaring your music that loud right now?” you demand.

“Yeah, there is. Because it’s my fucking room and I can do what I want in it.”

“God, you are such a dick! I know you’re doing it on purpose just to piss me off.”

Five shakes his head slowly and takes another drink. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but not everything is about you. Pissing you off in the process is a definite perk, though.”

You ball your hands up at your side and grit your teeth. “I’m not buying any of your bullshit, Five. I know you’re mad at me, and that’s fine. But you’re acting like a fucking child right now!”

“I think you’re mistaken. I’m not the one who can’t stand to be alone for more than a few hours. I’m not the one that needs constant attention and validation from someone. So who’s the child now, hmm?”

“What are you talking about? I do not.”

He grins. “Oh yeah? Want to tell me what you’re doing here all the time then? Why you’re here when you have a perfectly good apartment of your own to go to? ‘Cause I bet it’s not because of my brother.”

That throws you off a little and you don’t immediately have a comeback. Five snorts derisively. You narrow your eyes.

“Fuck you!” you spit out.

Five raises an eyebrow and lets out a short laugh. “Ohhh…maybe that’s why you’re always here. Well, sorry, honey. Hate to disappoint you, but you’re not my type.”

With your own sarcastic smile, you shoot back. “I know I’m not, honey. From what I’ve seen, I’m guessing you prefer to take matters into your own hands if you know what I’m saying.” That seems to have shut him up and he stands there, clinging to the door frame with his hair hanging in his face. Before you let him think of another comeback you give him a tiny wave and turn around. “I’ll leave you and Mr. Daniels to it, then. Remember, Fivey, don’t go too hard at it. I hear carpal tunnel is a real bitch.”

As you walk away, you hear the door slam behind you. You’re irritated and pissed off. And now you are horny. How the fuck is that possible? Well, there’s a good solution for that, and it’s waiting in the other room for you. You stalk over to Klaus’s room, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar. Klaus is still on the bed on his back and he’s lit up a joint in the process. When he sees you enter, he sits up.

“Oh, good, you’re alive. How did that go?”

“Great,” you say under your breath.

Then you are pulling your shirt over your head and yanking your underwear off. You immediately climb onto the bed and over the top of Klaus, grabbing the joint and tossing it into the ashtray at the side of the bed. He’s shocked when instead of saying anything, you lean down, grabbing his face in both hands and forcefully kissing him. After a moment his hands are on your hips and he’s smiling against your mouth.

“That’s more like it,” he says before you’re devouring his mouth again.

You don’t want to talk and you don’t need any more foreplay. You just want to fuck. Hard and rough, and loud. Luckily, Klaus is already pretty fired up and you can feel him hard underneath you as you straddle him. He still has his briefs on, so you hastily tug them off. If he’s wondering why you’re all of a sudden trying to mount him like a wild dog in heat, he doesn’t say anything. He seems pretty happy when you line yourself up and sink onto his dick, letting it fill you up in one shove. You let out a whine before looking down at him.

“I want to fuck. Hard,” you tell him in between gasping breaths.

“Yeah, baby, fuck me as hard as you want,” he rasps before smacking your ass and giving you a sly smile.

“Don’t talk. Just fuck,” you instruct him.

He obviously doesn’t care that you’re ordering him around, because his hands are on your tits as you start riding him fast and hard. You don’t even work up to it, you’re just pounding yourself onto his cock and you can already feel the beads of sweat starting to form on your skin. You’ve never been this worked up in your life, and you have no idea why. That’s not true; you know exactly why. You just don’t want to admit it, even to yourself.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you work as hard as you can, thrusting your hips back and forth and grunting with the effort. Throwing your head back, you cry out as loudly as you can, practically screaming at the top of your lungs. If the neighbors can hear you, it probably sounds like you’re being murdered to the soundtrack of Ozzy Osbourne right now. You’re making as much noise as possible; crying, wailing, and begging for more. And it’s all on purpose because you want a certain someone to know what he’s missing out on. Klaus is either shocked into submission by your sudden change in demeanor, or he’s in heaven. Either way, he’s not saying anything.

With your eyes closed, and no voice attached to the body you’re penetrating yourself with, you start to imagine what you’ve been trying to push out of your mind. You might hate him at the moment and think he’s a total asshole, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to climb on top of him like a spider monkey and fuck his brains out.

In your mind, it’s not Klaus anymore, it’s Five. And you want more of him, even though that’s not physically possible. You run your hands down his perfect chest and abdomen, clutching at his thighs as you lean back to get a different angle. He’s watching you with those piercing eyes, looking up at you with that damn smirk of his.

“That’s right baby, fuck Daddy hard.”

Whoa, Daddy? Where the fuck did that come from? Shit, I have some real problems.

There’s no time to dwell on that psychological component because you just can’t get enough. His hands are on your hips and then on your ass, long fingers gripping tightly into you and pushing you even further down onto his cock. You’re still crying out, moaning loudly while you lean down to kiss him. You can feel his hand in your hair and his lips pressed against yours as you continue to rock into him.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. Don’t stop,” he’s saying in that husky voice of his.

“I need more,” you’re pleading and he laughs at you.

“Tell Daddy what you want, darling.”

Fuck, what is happening to me?

You don’t know what’s happening to you, other than you’re so fucking wet, you feel like you’re going to slide right off of Klaus’s dick and onto the floor. You open your eyes, stop your crazy thrusts, and abruptly climb off. Klaus lets out a hiss at the sudden loss of your warm, wet walls clenched around him.

“Fuck me from behind,” you pant, even as you’re already getting into position on your hands and knees.

“Shit,” he’s murmuring under his breath, but he doesn’t argue.

You feel him behind you and the anticipation is driving you crazy. When he slams into you, hips smacking against your ass and his hands pulling you backward hard and fast, you let out a sound that might be close to a sob. Your fists clench the bedsheets and from this angle, you don’t have to keep your eyes closed to slip back into your imaginary sex fantasy.

Five is behind you, plowing you so forcibly that it’s hard to keep yourself steady. It feels so fucking good, and everything you’ve been wanting. You don’t know how he’s weaseled his way into your head like this, but it probably has something to do with that goddamn body of his. Or his impossibly handsome face. Or those hands. Fuck, you want those hands on you and in you, and doing whatever else he pleases with them.

“Tell me,” he demands as he rams into you over and over again. “Tell me what you want. Let me give it to you.”

“Oh god…please…don’t stop fucking me!”

You’re not even sure if you said that out loud or not, but it doesn’t matter. His hand comes around to finger you while he rails you as hard as possible. You’re going to lose it any second now, you can feel it. His fingers are pressing against your clit and he continues talking to you inside your head; telling you everything you are dying to hear.

“You like it when Daddy fucks you like this, don’t you? When I fuck you so hard you can’t think straight?”

“Yes…yes,” you’re whining over and over again.

His hands are working their magic while his impressive cock is driving into your pussy. No one has made your body react like this before and you want to cry from the sheer overload of emotions.

“Let me hear you, sweet girl. You know what you want.”

“I want you! Oh fuck…you’re going to make me come,” you whimper.

“Say it again,” he snarls. “Say it again and scream my name when I make you come.”

“I want you! I want you so fucking badly. Please…keep fucking me…I need…oh god yes! Fii—fff-fuck!”

You catch yourself right at the last second as your orgasm rips through you, creating shocks of pleasure all throughout your body. Your muscles are contracting and your skin is hot and tingling. You are moaning like you are in pain and the sheets underneath you are balled tightly in your fists. There is a layer of sweat over your entire body and your breaths are coming out in ragged gasps. You are vaguely aware of Klaus behind you, gripping your hips while he lets loose with his own climax.

Several seconds pass while neither of you move. After a while, he pulls out and you fall onto your stomach, sprawled out and completely spent.

“Holy. Shit,” Klaus breathes out as he runs a hand down your back. “Where the hell did that come from?”

You laugh softly and push your hair out of your face. “I don’t know. I guess I was just a little wound up.”

“A little wound up? Shit, babe, I’m fairly certain the authorities have been alerted by several people in this building. In which case, I should probably hide some shit.”

You move your tired body and sit up, your legs shaking. You feel bad that you went a little crazy on him, especially considering the entire smutty movie that had been playing in your head the entire time. The one that didn’t involve Klaus in any way. You smile and shrug, then start moving off the bed to gather up your clothes.

“I know, that was a little over the top. Sorry.”

Klaus shakes his head and picks up the joint out of the ashtray you had thrown it in and takes a hit. After exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air, he studies you with creased eyebrows.

“Do not apologize for that. Ever.” Then he pauses before that sly grin starts spreading over his face. “Wait a minute, I know what was different. What probably lit a fire in your kitty cat panties. Old Fivey in there!”

You are in the process of tugging your shirt back over your head and your face isn’t visible to him, which is a damn good thing because it is probably beet red at the moment. You take an extra long time to pull it down over your head and you try and keep your composure.

“That’s ridiculous! I am not hot for Five!”

Klaus lets out a small giggle and shakes his head. “No, no, not like that. I meant I bet it was that crazy sexy hard rock he’s been pumping out of his room. Gets you all pumped up, too, doesn’t it? I don’t blame you though, fucking to loud music with a pounding bassline like that is amazing.”

You let out a sigh of relief and then laugh. “Yeah, you’re right, it does kind of get me going. That must have been it. Not to mention I haven’t been over in a while. I needed to let off some pent-up sexual frustration.”

Klaus bows and it’s hilarious because he’s still naked with a joint in his hand. “Glad to be of service, madam.”

You walk over and pat him on the butt. “Thank you. As always, you know how to deliver.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

It had been your intention to head home for the rest of the night, but now that you’re here and Klaus is offering, you don’t really want to go back to your apartment alone. You like staying here in Klaus’s bed, with his body heat warming you up as you lie next to him, quietly chatting together until you drift off to sleep. Sometimes you’ll be on the very edge of sleep and he’ll whisper something so stupid and off the wall that you can’t help laughing and you’re awake again, with no hope of sleep after that.

But if you stay, that means Five was right about you. You really do come over because you don’t like being alone. You don’t need constant attention from anyone, that part is not true, but you like the companionship. Even if you and Klaus stopped having sex, you’d still want to come over all the time. You like hanging out with him and even on the occasions he’s not there, the apartment feels cozier and more lived in than yours. You have thought about getting a roommate, but all of your current friends are either in serious relationships or prefer to live alone. The thought of trying to advertise for a stranger to move in and then interview people to decide if you want to share your space with them seems exhausting. So, you’d rather just stay here as often as you can.

Even though you just mind-fucked him like crazy, you internally curse Five for reading you so correctly.

“Yeah, I’d like to if that’s ok.”

Klaus pulls on his underwear before flopping back on the bed. “Of course! You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to your brother. He’s been giving me a ration of shit lately about being around here so much,” you grumble as you crawl in next to him.

“I thought you two were getting along.”

“Well, we were, but then…” you almost let slip that you walked in on Five in the shower. You hadn’t told Klaus about that because you already felt bad for embarrassing the guy, you didn’t need to get anyone else involved. “I don’t know, I guess he changed his mind or something. Because now he definitely is not a fan of mine.”

Klaus frowns. “Hmm..well, that sucks. We should be the three amigos!”

“Pretty sure he does not want to be mi amigo at the moment.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Tell him to stop being such a grouch.”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to do that,” you protest.

“No, no, I want to. It’s important to me that he can get along with you. Five may be a scary, unhinged assassin who once threatened to kill me by describing in excruciating detail all of the steps he was going to take to do it. Like, he literally wrote them out on a yellow legal pad with graphics next to each one and handed it to me. I don’t remember the full list, but it involved a step ladder, some Elmer’s glue, and a toaster oven. Anyway, he may be scary like that, but he’s not all bad. He just needs to lighten up a little. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

You laugh. “What did you do to piss him off that time?”

Klaus rolls his eyes and sighs. “Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t a big deal. I may have accidentally eaten a large number of mushrooms and decided to strip naked and crawl into bed with him in the middle of the night.”

“I mean, that’s pretty funny but it doesn’t sound that bad.”

“Well, no, that part isn’t. It was when I started violently humping him from behind and licking his neck that he kind of got a little uppity about it.”

You start laughing harder. “You humped him and licked his neck?!”

“Yeah. I don’t really remember a lot of it, but apparently, I had him in a pretty good death grip while calling him “Alberto” and demanding to speak with his manager. I guess he was able to blink away just in time before I unloaded my high fructose porn syrup all over his superhero jammies.”

You are laughing so hard at that image that tears are rolling down your cheeks. “Ok, I understand why he wanted to kill you, now. You kind of had it coming.”

Klaus waves a hand flippantly in the air. “Now you sound just like him.”

The next morning, you get up before Klaus, just like always. As you make your way to the kitchen, you can hear rattling around in there and you pause. You think about heading back to the bedroom just to avoid any confrontation, but then you change your mind. You’re not going to hide from him. As you walk in, there is Five, busy making coffee. He looks like shit and you smile a little to yourself. Good, serves you right.

“’ Morning, sunshine!” you exclaim cheerily, just to piss him off. “You’re up early. I figured you’d be sleeping the day away after your little one-man frat party last night.”

He turns to you with a look that you know is intended to intimidate, but is not quite working considering he looks like death warmed over. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is a tangled mess, and he’s still wearing the rumpled pants you had seen him in last night. And of course, he has not bothered to put on a shirt again. Jesus, will this guy put some clothes on and give me a fucking break?

“Oh, good, it’s you. I was worried maybe you had decided to fuck off and leave me alone. But, nope, here you are again.”

You give a snort and sit down at the kitchen table. You’re not really sure why you’re still there, but you don’t want him to think he’s scared you off so you stand your ground. Instead, you say nothing but start humming Pink’s “U + Ur Hand” under your breath. You know Five hears you because you can see his shoulders tense and his hands flex. You smile to yourself.

When he turns to you again, his arms crossed over his bare chest and his hair in his face, he leans against the counter and eyes you up with a malicious grin. You really wish he weren’t so damn good-looking because it’s very hard to keep up your little show when all you are really thinking about is jumping on top of him.

“That was a nice little performance you gave last night, by the way. I had assumed you were the type to just lie there and have someone else do all the work, but good to know my brother is at least getting something out of it.”

You straighten up in your seat. “You’re welcome. I figured the least I could do is give you some material to work with.”

Five nods with a smirk, not taking the bait. He uncrosses his arms and grabs onto the edge of the countertop behind him, leaning back casually. You are immediately drawn to his sculpted chest and abs and your eyes drift over the many faded scars scattered over his body.

“I could say the same to you, love,” he says.

He throws you off your game with that statement. You’re mostly sure he’s just trying to be an asshole and get under your skin, but what if he does know? What if you yelled something out while you were imagining him fucking you so hard your teeth rattled in your head? When you were calling him Daddy and riding him like he was Sea Biscuit? You feel caught and your face must betray you because suddenly he’s not looking so smug anymore.

You are both staring at one another, not saying a word, but the passive-aggressive tension in the air has changed to something else. The look between you seems to last forever, and you can feel the warmth spreading up your neck and onto your face. And maybe a little between your legs, as well. Just then, the coffee that Five had been making is done and the machine beeps loudly, startling you both.

He looks away first and pulls down a mug from the cabinet. You are surprised to see him grab a second one. He fills them both and then sets one down on the table, sliding it over to you with a push so that it sloshes over the side.

“Thanks,” you mumble, as you pick it up.

“Sure,” he responds grudgingly, and you can tell it’s killing him to be even moderately polite right now.

After a minute or so of neither of you talking, it is starting to get awkward. Someone needs to say something or leave. Instead, you just sip your hot coffee and pretend the tabletop is incredibly interesting. You decide to chance it and you clear your throat, but you don’t look up.

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” you say quietly.

It takes a few seconds, but he finally responds. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too.”

You nod and glance up, meeting his eyes as he watches you with that all-encompassing intensity of his. His stare bores right through you and once again you feel frozen in time and for a minute you think he’s somehow doing that, but in reality, it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. He just has that hold over you somehow and you pray that he can’t see it. You watch as he looks away, closes his eyes, and pushes his hair back with one hand, giving you a good look at the tight muscles in his arms. Fuck. You cross your legs and take a sip of your coffee to try and hide the fact that you are on the verge of passing out right now.

At that exact moment, the weird energy in the room is broken by Klaus’s appearance. He floats in, wearing some sort of ugly satin robe that barely covers anything, but somehow he manages to pull off the look. He stops in the doorway and looks from you to Five and back again. Then he claps his hands and smiles.

“Yay! So, you guys are buddies again? Is that what I’m seeing here?”

Five rolls his eyes and sighs. You shrug your shoulders. “I guess so. Tolerating each other again, anyway,” you tell him.

Five gives a tight-lipped smile and holds his coffee mug up towards you in a toasting gesture and you do the same with yours. Neither of you say anything else on the subject.

“Well, let me tell you, that is a relief,” Klaus exhales. “I was not really looking forward to having to put the hammer down on you, Fivey.”

Five raises his eyebrows at Klaus. “Is that right? And how exactly were you planning on doing that?”

“By giving you a very stern warning, of course,” Klaus says with a smile, shaking his finger at Five. Then he walks over to get his own coffee. He looks Five up and down and then gives his arm a squeeze. “Damn, Cinco, you been working out or what? Looking pretty fine there, I must say.”

Five frowns and swats his hand away. “You’re so weird.”

You giggle into your mug and Five looks at you with a crooked smile. Then he snatches the full coffee pot out of Klaus’s hand. “As much as I’d love to spend the rest of my day in the company of you two intellectuals, I must take my leave. See you later.”

Klaus lets out a cry of protest as Five disappears in a flash, taking the coffee with him, and leaving his brother with an empty mug.

You try to hide your laughter as Klaus looks at you in disbelief.

“Well, that was rude,” he says in a huff.

With a shrug, you get up and pour some of your coffee into his cup. “Yeah, but I’ve come to realize that rude is Five’s love language.”

Klaus pouts. “He must love us a lot, then.”

With a smile, you think to yourself how much that statement is probably true. If Five doesn’t care about you, he’s not going to waste his time and energy to speak to you, even if it is in the form of an insult. It makes you feel good inside to know that he probably really does like you, at least a little bit. If not, he just wouldn’t bother with you at all; he’d avoid you like the plague. And you like knowing that. You like it a lot, actually.

Once again, you find your mind drifting off. And once again, it’s filled with images and scenarios starring one very sexy, teleporting ex-assassin.

Chapter Four: Love In The Time Of Cholera

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you?”

Five walks into the apartment to find you huddled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and shivering.

“Nothing. It’s just a cold I think,” you answer between chattering teeth.

Five strides over to the couch and leans in to peer down at you, squinting slightly. He stands up straight and crosses his arms over his chest, flicking the hair out of his eyes with a superior shake of his head.

“I don’t think that’s just a cold. You look like shit.”

“Gosh, thanks, Five. Charming, as always,” you snap back. Or at least, it would have been a snap had you not just started coughing violently, your entire body shaking with the effort.

Five’s eyebrows furrow together. “Have you taken your temperature?”

You shrug. “No.”

With a heavy sigh, Five leaves the room, returning a minute later with a thermometer in hand. He presses the button and when it beeps, he holds it out for you. You eye it and him suspiciously.

Five jabs it towards you again when you don’t reach for it. “Take it.”

“How do I know you or Klaus haven’t used that to take your temperature in other ways besides orally?”

Five rolls his eyes. “I keep this in my room, away from Klaus for just that reason, and I can assure you it has never been used in my or anyone else’s ass.”

After another sigh from Five and another dubious look at the thermometer, you relent and take it from him. You place it under your tongue and you both wait in silence for what seems to take forever before you hear the beep again. Before you can take it out, Five reaches down and removes it from your mouth for you, frowning at the digital display.

“104.3. You’re burning up.”

You shiver again, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. “Great.”

Five is quiet for a moment, and then he glances around the room. “Where’s Klaus?”

You shrug again, and it reminds you how much your muscles are aching. “I don’t know. I came here right from work since it was closer than my place and I was feeling pretty crappy. I texted him to let him know I’d be here, but so far I haven’t seen him. He didn’t answer my text, either.”

You figure Five is probably more than annoyed with having you here without Klaus, and spreading your germs around his apartment in the process. With a guilty look, you start to stand up.

“Sorry, I’ll go. I’ve rested a bit, so I should be ok to walk home.”

As you stand, you are overwhelmed by a bout of dizziness and you sway on your feet, your vision blurring. Five reaches out to catch you around your waist and you let him take most of your weight. When your vision returns and you can stand, you look up at him to find he actually looks concerned rather than his usual expression of deep irritation. His facial features are softer and his hair is in his face again. His eyes scan over your face, lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes. Your legs are bearing your full weight now, but he still has his arms around you.

You clear your throat. “Or…I can get a cab.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, although it’s missing the usual snark he reserves for you. “You obviously are too sick to go anywhere.”

Five lets you go and you both stand there awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“So…you want me to stay here?” you ask weakly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I want you to stay here, but I’m also not sending you off on your own while you’re half dead.” He manages a small smile that appears genuine. “You need someone to look after you.”

You try to hide your shock but your eyebrows raise. “And you’re going to look after me?”

He looks away briefly before sighing dramatically again. “Until Klaus comes back. Then you’re his problem.”

A slight smile twitches at the corner of your mouth. You can’t believe Mr. Crab Ass is being this soft. Soft for him, anyway. And you can’t believe he’s willing to take care of you. You’re trying to picture him as a caregiver, though, and it’s like your brain isn’t computing.

“Ok,” you say softly. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “I need to get you into bed.”

Despite the pounding headache in your skull, you start giggling as Five realizes what he said, and his face flushes.

“That’s not…you know what I mean,” he stammers. “You can lie down in Klaus’s bed.”

You nod, still smiling and take his hand. It’s warm and dry against your clammy one, but he doesn’t seem to care. Even though your head feels like it’s filled with mashed potatoes, you still feel a little zing through your body at the sensation of his touch. You know he’s strong and he can kill a man with these same hands if he needed to, but he holds yours gently.

He gets you situated in Klaus’s bed, with an extra blanket thrown over the comforter to keep you warm against your chills. He brings you medicine to bring down the fever, and a glass of water to keep next to the bed. He places a cold compress on your forehead and dims the lights so you can rest, slipping quietly out of the room after he makes sure you’re comfortable.

As he leaves, you notice he hesitates near the door and takes a look back at you before he goes. You’re not quite sure how to interpret the look, mostly because you’ve never seen him like that before. He looks…sad? Concerned? You’re not sure, but whatever the meaning behind it has your heart racing just a little faster.

Even with Five’s continued care, your fever remains and you somehow manage to feel even shittier as the day goes on. Your entire body aches, right down to your bones, and you’re so exhausted you can hardly keep your eyes open. You’re sweaty and shivering and every time you cough it feels like fire in your lungs. You might even be hallucinating, because each time you wake up and open your eyes, Five is there. He usually has some amused look on his face, like you just said something interesting or funny, but you’re pretty sure you’ve only been sleeping.

At one point you wake and he’s not in the chair across from the bed like he has been, but you can hear him out in the hall. He’s talking to someone and he does not sound happy. He sounds like you’re used to him sounding. All frustration and rage.

“What do you mean you’re not coming home?” he spits out. There’s a pause. “And like I told you , she’s sick.” Pause. “No, dickhead, like really sick! You need to get your ass back here and act like a fucking adult—” Pause. “Because she’s your girlfriend!” he yells, and you can practically hear his jaw clenching from the other room.

There’s another long pause and you can hear him pacing back and forth. He laughs sarcastically at whatever has been said to him on the other end.

“Yeah, great idea…you stay there and enjoy yourself. I’ll take care of her. Just like I take care of everything else around here.”

He must have hung up because you hear him muttering angrily to himself. “Fucking, self-absorbed asshole! I’m not sure why I expected anything different. Fuck!”

After a minute or two, Five comes back into the room. He’s obviously still upset but is trying to cover it up. Seeing that you’re awake, he comes to stand next to the bed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So, I got ahold of Klaus finally,” he tells you.

“Yeah, I figured that part out.” You smile weakly up at him. “And it also sounds like he’s not coming home?”

Five rubs the back of his neck. “It appears not. Not for a couple of days, anyway. Seems like he went with a random group of people he met at a club last night and he somehow ended up in Toronto, the fucking jackass. Without a valid passport! Only Klaus would somehow figure out how to cross international borders on charm alone. Either that, or he blew the border guard.” His voice softens and he looks down at you. “I’m sorry he’s not here.”

“That’s ok. I think I’d rather have you here taking care of me, anyway. Klaus is usually much more interested in taking care of Klaus.”

Five gives a short laugh and shakes his head. “What the hell do you two have in common, anyway?”

“Well…” you smile knowingly, even though just that motion of moving your cheek muscles hurts.

“Ok, no, please don’t finish that sentence. I’m sorry I asked.”

Throughout the next day and night, Five continues to care for you. You’re not really sure why he’s so invested in making sure you’re ok, but you never question him. Instead, you let him fix your covers, and take your temperature, and bring you cold drinks. He makes you soup and watches to make sure you eat all of it. It’s absolutely hilarious to see him like a mother hen, fussing over you and scolding you when you don’t take his directions.

Even though you’re not well enough to leave yet, you are starting to feel a little better. Enough that you’re able to get up and take a hot shower. While you’re in there, Five takes the opportunity to change the sheets on the bed and he helps you back in when you’re clean and feeling more like a human again. Once you are all set up in bed again, you are able to sit up and stay awake, which is more than you’ve been able to do over the past 24 hours. Five stands there at the side of the bed awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry for all of this,” you tell him. “Thank you for taking care of me, though. I had no idea you made such a good nurse.”

Five scoffs, but there’s a small smile there. “Yeah, well…you shouldn’t be. I’m good at everything, remember? Also, I’m not that heartless.”

“I never thought you were heartless. Maybe a little bitchy, but never heartless,” you say with a smile.

“Well, you’re about the only one, so thanks I guess. Although, I’m not sure being described as bitchy is any better.”

You start to laugh, but it turns into a racking cough, and Five looks at you with concern.

“All right, enough talking. You should really go back to sleep.”

You shake your head as you wipe at your watery eyes. “I’m sick of sleeping. Entertain me.”

“Entertain you? Jesus, here I am busting my ass to make you better and now I have to entertain you, too?”

He’s trying to sound aggravated, but he’s not quite pulling it off.

“But I’m borrreddd,” you whine dramatically.

“Christ, fine, I will find something to entertain you, as long as you stop fucking whining like that.”

You smile with satisfaction since you got your way and Five tries his best to look unamused.

“I have lots of books; do you want to read?”

You nod. “What do you have?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, I’m not going to list off an entire library of titles for you. What do you like to read?”

After thinking for a minute, you answer, “I doubt you have any, but I like classic romances.”

Five smiles slowly. “Well, then you’re in luck because I happen to also like classic romances.”

You almost start coughing again with surprise. “What? You? Number Five ‘Hard-Ass’ Hargreeves loves romance novels?”

“I am a very romantic person, I can’t believe you’ve never noticed,” he says with a hand on his chest.

“Oh my god, well now I’ve heard everything. Alright, then, Mr. Romance; what do you have for me to read?”

He leaves for a few minutes, returning with a paperback novel in his hand. He holds it up for you to see the cover.

“Love In The Time of Cholera?” you read.

“It’s fitting, don’t you think?” he answers with a smirk.

“I don’t think I have cholera.”

“Well, maybe not but you have something just as disgusting. The plague, maybe. But this was the only book I have that includes both a deadly disease and romance.”

“I haven’t read that one, but wasn’t it written in the 1980s or something? Is that considered a classic already?”

“Look, do you want to read the fucking book or not?”

You nod with a smile. “Yes, please.”

Five steps closer to the bed and holds out the book for you to take it, but you don’t move. Instead, you look up at him with the saddest expression you can manage and poke out your bottom lip.

“I don’t know if my eyes will be able to read such small print in my weakened state. Will you read it to me?” You bat your eyelashes dramatically.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Five sighs. “Read to you? Are you a child?”

“Please? Come on, what else are you doing? Nothing.”

After another huff and a sigh that isn’t very convincing, Five throws his hands up. “Fine! I’ll read you the stupid book. But you better sit there and be quiet and not interrupt.”

You nod obediently and then pat the empty side of the bed next to you. You were halfway kidding, but after a look at the bed and then back to the chair and then back to the bed again, Five walks around to the other side and climbs in, propping himself up beside you. If his heart is pounding just a little faster from the proximity like yours is, he hides it well.

“Will you do different voices for the characters?” you giggle.

“Shut up. Also, you have a booger hanging out of your nose and it’s making me sick. Get a tissue,” he grumbles.

After blowing your nose and using the hand sanitizer that Five holds out to you, you settle into the covers. But not before you take your index finger and poke him right in his cheek dimple. “I’m ready now.”

He bats your hand away with a scowl as you snort from trying to hold in a laugh with your stuffed-up nose.

“You are such an idiot,” he tells you with a shake of his head, trying to hide a smile.

Five turns to the book and starts reading while you lie next to him. Pretty soon the sound of his voice has you closing your eyes and you sink deeper into the covers. When you hear him stop, you open your eyes and peer up at him.

“Why did you stop?” you ask blearily.

“You were sleeping.”

You close your eyes again and sigh. “Keep reading, even if I fall asleep. I like listening to your voice. It’s nice.”

Even though you can’t see him, you think you hear a breathy little laugh. “Ok,” he says softly, before continuing on with the story.

You doze off again, and when you wake up the sun is lower in the sky and the room is dim. Your eyes adjust to the darkness and you see Five is still there. The book is closed and lying to the side and he is asleep on his back next to you. Then you see that your arm is flung over his stomach and you freeze. He’s still sleeping soundly, so you slowly take your hand back, but not before making sure you get a good feel of his hard abs under your palm. You look at his face and see that it’s softer, his forehead uncreased, with his dark lashes fanned over the tops of his cheeks. His lips are parted just slightly while he breathes deeply and for a very brief moment, you think about running your fingers over them to see if they’re as soft as they look. Instead, you clear your throat and he stirs.

When Five looks over at you, you smile shyly at him. “I think we both fell asleep.”

He runs a hand down his face and looks around him. “Yeah, I guess we did.” He turns back to you. “How are you feeling?”

You nod. “Better, actually, thank you. And thank you for reading to me. I missed some of it, but I liked what I heard of it so far. And I get the gist that this guy in the book is going to start whoring his way around the world because of his unrequited love?”

Five laughs. “Pretty much, yes.”

“Guys are disgusting no matter what time period they live in, I guess.”

Five raises one eyebrow at you. “You do realize whose bed you are currently sleeping in, right? Probably the most disgusting one of them all.”

You frown. “Klaus isn’t that disgusting. He’s just…free.”

Five gives a snort of derision. “Is that what you call fucking your way through several different timelines, including, but not limited to, an entire congregation of his own cult members?”

You feel your face turning red from embarrassment at being one of the many in Klaus’s little trail of conquests, but you already knew that and hadn’t cared before. So, why is it bothering you now? Why do you care what Five thinks? Instead, you change the subject.

“So, you asked me what I have in common with Klaus, but what about you? Why do you live together if he seems to be a constant source of irritation for you?”

Five is quiet for a minute and he sits up in the bed and for a second you think he’s going to leave. But he just leans against the headboard and looks back down at you with a sad smile.

“You’re right, he drives me fucking crazy and I would most definitely prefer to live on my own.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because Klaus is a hazard to himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even when we were kids, he was constantly getting into trouble. Whether he was getting bullied by some dickheads on the subway or being used by my father in some horrible way, he was always getting hurt. Both physically and mentally. He’s just too damn trusting. When I was there, I would stand up for him. If I saw him getting pushed around or harassed in some way, then you could bet that whoever was responsible was getting their ass kicked. At home, there wasn’t much I could do about that, but he would come to my room when he was scared or upset and I’d let him hang out as long as he wanted, just to let him talk and calm down. When I left, among a million other things that haunted me during those years, I felt terrible that I had left Klaus unprotected.”

You stare up him, and you can see the hurt on his face as he’s remembering all of this.

“After I came back, I couldn’t believe how far he’d fallen. I know you can’t blame yourself for someone else’s choices, but I kept thinking maybe he would have been ok if I hadn’t jumped. Then, almost right off the bat, he gets kidnapped and tortured by people that were looking for me and then accidentally fucks off to Vietnam to earn himself some more trauma and heartache. Instead of protecting him, I was causing him more pain and suffering and I’d hardly been back in his life for more than a couple of days. So, after a few more screw-ups and a grand old time in the 1960s, here we are again. I know what he’s been through and it’s a lot.”

“So, you decided to live with him to watch out for him? To try and protect him again?”

Five nods. “I know Klaus isn’t stupid. And he’s a survivalist, just like me, so I’m not saying he can’t get along without me. I just feel that I owe him something, at least. And the only thing I can really offer him these days is to try and look out for him. Maybe stop him from making mistakes that will end up causing him more harm in the end. Like taking too many drugs, sleeping with dangerous people, or getting stranded in Canada with strangers. So, as you can see, I’m doing a real bang-up job.”

You smile up at him. “I don’t think that’s your fault.”

Five frowns. “Well, anyway, there you have it. He drives me fucking crazy and makes me want to put his head through a wall most days, but if I’m here then at least I can keep an eye on him.”

“So, am I one of these dangerous people you want to keep him from sleeping with?” you ask just to be a smart-ass and maybe a little flirty.

He gives you a look you don’t know how to interpret. “You are most definitely dangerous, but not in the way you might think.”

You’re not sure how to answer that as you feel your cheeks blush. “You’re a good big brother.”

“Not really.”

You rest your hand on top of Five’s, giving it a light squeeze and he looks down at it. “No, I mean it, Five. You’re a really good brother to him.” And you do mean it.

He swallows hard and looks you in the eyes, holding your gaze for a long time. He gently strokes his thumb against the side of your hand, and it’s the most contact you’ve ever gotten from him. It’s only an instant before he’s taking his back again.

He shakes his head and his voice is almost a whisper when he speaks. “You don’t understand. I’m really not.”

After another awkward moment, he clears his throat and moves off the bed. He pauses in the doorway and turns back to you.

“I’ll bring you something to eat, ok?”

You nod. “Thank you.”

Then he’s gone and you’re left lying there wondering what the hell just happened between you two.

************************************

I thought I had finally gotten my shit together. After that little setback when she caught me beating my meat in the shower and I turned into a giant asshole, we had been back on friendly terms. And I had told myself to stop being a delusional creep and fantasizing about things that weren’t ever going to happen. So far, I have been doing pretty well. Then she got sick.

Normally, the only reason I would care whether or not someone was sick would be so that I could stay away from them. I have dealt with more than my fair share of horrible illnesses and injuries in my life and managed to come out of them mostly unscathed and with no one else’s help. So it’s hard for me to feel too much sympathy for folks with access to advanced medical care and simple things like aspirin or Neosporin. I lost track of how many times I would have killed just for some Imodium and a bottle of Gatorade after eating some not-so-great canned food.

As soon as I saw her all miserable and shivering from a fever like that, though, my heart couldn’t stand it. All I wanted to do was make her feel better and I didn’t care if I was exposed to her germs or not. I would have taken all of them if it meant she’d feel well again. That’s how much she’s gotten to me.

My first instinct was to bring her into my bed, but I quickly changed my mind. I didn’t want it to seem like I was hinting at anything or being a weirdo, so I opted for the better choice of Klaus’s bed. Even though the thought of her being in there, no matter the purpose, leaves me with a gnawing feeling in my stomach. But that’s ok, the only thing that mattered was that she was cared for.

Those first 24 hours were interesting, to say the least. I’m still not quite sure what to think about it. She was feverish and exhausted, and she started hallucinating and talking in her sleep. At first, I didn’t think much of it. It’s not abnormal for people with high fevers to experience these things. But when I didn’t leave her side except to get her more medicine or anything else she needed, she must have realized I was there even if she wasn’t totally in her right mind. She started talking to me, but it didn’t make sense. At least, I told myself it didn’t make sense. Because I don’t want to acknowledge the very unrealistic notion that it may have been her true feelings.

“It’s you,” she had said weakly, her eyes barely open as I sat in the chair across from her.

“Yeah, it’s me. Did you need something?”

She shook her head very slowly and her eyes closed again. “No…I mean…it’s you, Five. It’s always you.”

I didn’t how to take that or how to respond, so I didn’t say anything and she drifted back into a sound sleep.

It had turned dark outside and I hadn’t bothered to turn on a light in the room, but I was still sitting there and I had almost fallen asleep myself. Then I heard her speak again.

“Five?”

I got up and went to her side, and even in the dark, I could tell that she wasn’t completely awake or lucid. She had a sheen of sweat on her forehead from the fever and I placed my hand on her head, hoping the coolness of my skin would feel good. She sighed and smiled.

“You’re hot,” I told her, obviously meaning the temperature of her forehead.

She had laughed dreamily, her eyes still closed. “So are you.”

I took my hand away and smiled down at her, deciding to go ahead and tease her even though I knew she wasn’t with it. “Oh yeah? I think you’re just saying that so I’ll continue waiting on you hand and foot.”

“Nooo…like soooo hot. Can you not be so hot all the time? It’s not fair. With no shirt…"

It was like talking to a drunk person, which I have lots of experience in, from both points of view, and I laughed again. “Ok. Go back to sleep.”

She had turned over on her side and curled up, facing away from me, but she was still mumbling out loud.

“Ok…I’ll do whatever you say, Daddy,” she giggled.

After that, she was back into a deep sleep and I just stood there, frozen in place and trying not to read too much into that. The logical explanation was that she was dreaming about her father in a completely innocent way. However, the other, less plausible one would be that she meant it in a totally different and very naughty way. A way that if I thought about it too much was going to cause me some major problems in the crotch department of my pants. And she had said I was hot, too. Which again, I chocked up to her fever, but still. I didn’t mind hearing it.

The third such incident had happened in the middle of the night. I was asleep and had been for some time. She seemed to be resting peacefully, but I still didn’t want to leave the room just in case she needed something if she woke up. I was still in the chair when I was awoken by her nonsensical ramblings again.

“Why don’t you?”

I rubbed my eyes and got up, standing next to her to make sure she was ok and was going to fall back asleep again. In the dark, she must have sensed me, because she reached out and took my hand and pulled me towards her. She hardly had any strength, so I didn’t have to move, but I did anyway and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Why don’t you?” she asked again, her voice thick with sleep and her hand still latched onto mine.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t like me,” she answered softly.

I didn’t really know if she was talking to me or not inside of her head, but I decided to answer her. “I do like you.”

“Good,” she murmured, and then she was quiet again. I was about to get up and go back to my chair when she started talking again. “I like it when you call me that, you know.”

I frowned. I had no idea what she was talking about. “Call you what?”

“Sweetheart,” she whispered and in the dark I could make out a smile on her face.

My heart just about jumped out of my chest. But then again, maybe she hadn’t even meant that for me. Maybe she was talking about Klaus, or someone else. Maybe it was all a weird dream and it didn’t mean anything rational at all.

I couldn’t resist, though. I took my hand from hers and touched the side of her face, running my thumb over her warm cheek. “Ok, sweetheart,” I said softly and my voice cracked. It was the first time I had said that without being a sarcastic jerk.

She smiled again and then burrowed deeper into the covers with a sigh. “Five…”

I wanted to die right there on the spot. I hated that I was letting myself create this little fantasy world for the two of us. All of these things she was saying meant nothing. She was delusional and not in her normal mindset. These things were most likely complete gibberish and had no bearing on anything. She was probably saying my name because I was right there and she had heard my voice. Or, more likely, she was telling me off in some dream she was having where I was being my usual pleasant self.

But that tiny little possibility for any of that to be true…that was all I could think about. And damn, it was driving me crazy.

When she had fallen asleep while I was reading to her, I kept going for a while because she had said she liked hearing my voice. But when I was sure she was deep enough asleep that she wouldn’t notice, I stopped. I should have left then, but I didn’t. Instead, I watched her sleeping for a while; noticing the rise and fall of her chest and the way her lips were slightly parted as she breathed in a steady rhythm. I wanted to pull her next to me and hold her. I wanted to stroke her hair and kiss her forehead. I didn’t do those things, but I did stay where I was. I laid there next to her, comfortable and warm and I didn’t want that moment to end. I loved it.

Now it’s two days later and my stupid ass brother still hasn’t shown up. Not that I’m really complaining, but I’m sure she wishes he were here. I meant it when I said I know I’m not a good brother to him. I’ve let him down many times in the past and now I’m lusting after his “non-girlfriend.” Pretty shitty if you ask me. Still, he should be here. Leave it to Klaus to up and abandon her when she needs him the most. Although, she had said she was happy I was here for her.

She is feeling better, at least, and is up and around more. We have developed a kind of routine and have fallen into a comfortable companionship. I know she likes chicken and rice soup and not chicken and noodle. She prefers Sprite over ginger ale and her favorite tea is chamomile. She loves the movie Grease and hates any and all sports movies. And of course, she loves classic romance novels.

I’ve continued reading the book to her, even though she’s well enough to continue reading it herself. She said she likes listening to me and I like doing anything that makes her happy. She still can’t get over the fact that the main character in the book ends up banging 622 women during his decades-long fuck-a-thon.

We are nearing the end of the book today and I’m sitting on the couch with my feet on the coffee table (I know…hypocrisy at its finest). She is sitting next to me when she scoots over and lays her head on my shoulder.

“What’s this?” I ask, trying to act annoyed, when of course I couldn’t be happier.

“I want to see the pages while you read. Make sure you’re not skipping anything to get to the end faster.”

I roll my eyes. “I promise I am not skipping anything. What do you take me for?”

“A cynical bastard?”

She looks up at me with a grin and I do my best to look irritated. “Do you want to finish this damn book or not?”

“Yes, darling.”

It’s heavy with sarcasm, obviously, but I still get a little rush when I hear her say it. I want so badly to lean my cheek against her head, feeling the softness of her hair against my skin. Instead, I sigh heavily and open the book.

“Hey, wait, so we’re almost to the end now and Florentino has been whoring around for a long time. I forget, how long has it been exactly?”

“51 years, 9 months, and 4 days.”

“Damn,” she says with a chuckle. “That’s a really fucking long time to wait around. Even if you are banging a bunch of people along the way. I mean think about it. That’s like…5 decades just…putting your life on pause. Can you imagine? God, I’d go insane.”

I’m suddenly very uncomfortable since that statement hit a little too close to home. I shift in my seat and the movement makes her lift her head and look up at me. I don’t meet her eyes, though.

“Oh, shit,” she gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “I am so sorry, Five. I didn’t mean—"

“It’s fine.”

“No. No, I just forgot and that was a really insensitive thing for me to say, and…god dammit, I always do stupid shit like this. I’m always just blurting things out without thinking about what I’m saying.”

“Really. It’s ok,” I assure her.

She lets out a frustrated exhale and she’s starting to mess with her fingernails like she always does when she gets nervous. 

“Hey,” I say, putting my hand on her leg. “You don’t have to feel bad. I’m not offended. And it’s true, you would go insane. I can vouch for that.”

She looks down at my hand on her leg and I quickly take it back. When she looks at me, her eyebrows are drawn together in concern.

“Can I ask you something, then?”

“Sure.”

“So, I know all about your ‘accident’ or whatever you want to call it. Klaus told me everything and it’s just so awful, Five. The fact that you are here and functioning and not locked up in a looney bin somewhere is nothing short of amazing.”

I let out a short laugh. “Thanks, I guess? Although some days I feel like I should be locked up. But that usually just has to do with having to deal with my moronic family.”

She doesn’t laugh at my joke to deflect, and instead, she continues looking at my face with not exactly pity, but something close to it. It makes me uneasy.

“Ok, well, anyway, there’s something I’ve wanted to know. Have you…have you ever been in a relationship with anyone? Like romantically?”

Well, if I felt uneasy before it’s nothing to how I’m feeling now. I would like to sink down in between these couch cushions and smother myself to death. How am I supposed to answer that without sounding like a fucking lunatic? Then again, if anyone would understand, it’s probably her.

I clear my throat and rub the back of my neck. “That’s kind of a loaded question.”

“Is it?”

"Well, the short answer is yes. I was in a serious relationship for a very long time. Decades, in fact. But that ended a few years back.”

“Oh…I thought you were alone that whole time. So you had a partner?”

“Yes, you could say that. Dolores was more than my partner, though. She was all of the things I needed when I wanted to give up. She was my rationality, my calm in a storm, my teacher and my friend. She taught me love, patience, and perseverance above all odds. She was my entire world and the main reason I’m still standing here today. She was my everything and the love of my life.” I pause and I look her directly in the eyes. “And she was made up entirely of my imagination and a department store mannequin. But she was very real to me.”

She blinks a few times and I can tell she is trying to process all of that. And I can’t blame her. What is the appropriate response to that? If you’re a dick, you laugh. If you’re some sappy, bleeding heart with no control over your emotions, you cry. But if you are a normal, sympathetic person with actual brains, then it gets complicated.

“Five, I…I don’t know what to say. That’s…”

“Sad? Disturbing? The most fucked up thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Beautiful.”

I look at her in disbelief. “What?”

“If she was all of those things to you, then that means you are all of those things. You are the reason you persevered and survived all those years. Because you made sure of it in the only way you knew how. And Dolores was the vessel that helped you compartmentalize everything, letting you deal with the horrors of your reality while still maintaining all of the good parts that are inside of you. It’s brilliant, actually. And hopelessly romantic.”

“No one has ever interpreted it in that way before. Although to be honest, I haven’t really told many people. In fact, come to think of it, outside of my siblings, you are the only one I’ve told.”

“Wow, really? Thank you.”

She sounds sincere and I know she is not judging me. I am very protective of Dolores and if she had said something flippant or thoughtless, I would have defended my lady love. But she didn’t. She understands. Which just makes me want her more.

“You’re welcome.”

“Ok, so other than Dolores, have there been other women in your life?”

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Yes, there have been. Not many, but a few. And none of them were relationships to speak of.”

She smiles. “Ah, I see. A slew of one-night stands to make up for lost time?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “More like a select few professional dancers.”

She makes a cringey face. “Yikes. I guess that can be fun in its own way, though. Bringing home some hot strippers maybe isn’t a bad way to spend a Friday night.”

“Oh, no, I never brought them home. Or even left the club, actually.” Her raised eyebrows have me laughing. “It is in my personal experience that the adage of ‘there’s no sex in the champagne room’ is not entirely true.”

She draws in a dramatic gasp with a big grin on her face. Then she slaps me on the arm. “Five Hargreeves, you are a giant slut! I can’t believe you give Klaus shit all the time when you’re going around banging strippers in the back of the clubs. What did they do, lure you back there with lap dances? How much does it cost to bone a stripper these days?”

“I never said I paid for it,” I say with a smirk.

“Whoa whoa whoa…hold on. Let me see if I’m understanding this correctly. You go to a strip club, probably buy a couple of drinks, maybe get a couple of dances, and they just magically take you into the champagne room and let you rail them?”

I shrug and drape my arms across the back of the couch. “That’s pretty close, yeah.”

Her mouth is hanging open and I know I’m acting like an arrogant prick, but I don’t care. Her reaction is too funny. It’s also all true.

“Holy shit.” She shakes her head with a smile. “Well, I hope you know that is not the normal experience for most guys. And the fact that it sounds like this has happened more than once leads me to believe you must be doing something extremely right in that room because girls like to talk.”

“Is that right?” I say with one eyebrow raised.

She nods. “I’m not entirely surprised. After I was able to get a quick preview of what you’re working with down there, I have no doubt you left these ladies with some major organ damage and a big smile on their faces.”

Now my mouth is hanging open in shock, but before I can stammer out some words, she starts laughing. It’s immediately contagious and I join her, and I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time. It feels good and it almost erases the crushing feeling inside when I think about how I never want this time with her to end. Almost.

Chapter Five: Bizarre Love Triangle

The next day you are back to feeling normal again, and you should be going. You’ve missed a few days of work and you really need to get back there. But you don’t; you stay. You like the little infirmary Five has created for you. You feel safe and cared for, and if you leave that feeling will be gone.

Klaus decides to return sometime during the afternoon. He breezes in, smelling of cigarettes and unwashed clothes, with a smile on his face and seemingly not a care in the world. You are annoyed, sure, but you secretly don’t even care that he’s been gone. And it’s just so hard to stay mad at him because it’s Klaus. He is who he is and it’s no surprise, really.

Five, however, finds nothing amusing about it. You stand there and watch as he loses his ever-loving shit.

Barely two minutes after Klaus is in the door, Five is appearing in front of him in an angry swirl of light, already leaning in with bared teeth and clenched fists.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he growls in Klaus’s face.

Klaus, always immune to his brother’s rage, raises a hand to his head and closes his eyes. “Shhh…Fivey…please, can you keep the screaming to a dull roar? My skull feels like it’s breaking in two.”

“It is going to be breaking in two when I’m through with you. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you have any decency? She has been on death’s door for the past two days and you don’t bother to come home or even call to check in?”

Five is gesturing to you while you stand off to the side, not sure whether you should be jumping in or not. You don’t really appreciate being talked about like you aren’t there, but you’ve never seen Five this worked up before and it’s intimidating, to say the least.

Klaus sighs dramatically and looks over to you. “I’m sorry. You’re ok now, though, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I am…”

“See? She’s ok, so no harm done,” he tells Five.

“Yeah, she is ok, thanks to me. That’s not even the point, though! You need to stop thinking about only yourself all the time. Grow the fuck up and act like an adult.” Five is still yelling loudly and Klaus is flinching with each word thrown in his face. “God, you’re so fucking useless sometimes!”

“Hey!” you interject. “Five, stop. I know you’re mad but you don’t have to be mean.”

He whips his head in your direction and the ire is still there. “Mean? I’m being mean? You do realize he just up and abandoned you, right?”

You stand up straight and raise your chin. “I think abandoned is a strong word. And I’m an adult, too, you know. I appreciate everything you did for me, but I think I could have survived without either of you.”

Five is silent, but his eyes don’t leave yours. He’s still angry, but there’s something else there. Hurt.

“Fine,” he concedes and his shoulders slump a little. “Forget I even said anything. You two dumbasses really do deserve each other.”

After that, he’s gone. Disappeared again before your eyes and you know he’s not in the apartment anymore. You doubt you’ll see him back here again anytime soon. You fucked things up again, and you don’t know how to fix it this time. You look at Klaus.

“Why didn’t you come back? It would have been the decent thing to do. I thought you cared a little more about me than that.”

Klaus massages his temples with his hands and lets out a loud exhale. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone that long, and it was a little tricky to get back into the country without documentation. Especially when the guards on duty that day are all alpha males with no sense of humor.” He looks at you with concern. “I really am sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“You seem back to normal, now, so that’s good. I’m glad at least Five was here.”

You nod. “Me too.” You look towards the door, even though that’s not the way he left. “I don’t think he’s going to want to have anything to do with me again, though.”

Klaus is already on his way to the bathroom and he waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Nah, don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it. He always does. Come on, want to join me in the shower?”

“No, thanks,” you answer with a pinched smile. You may not be that angry with Klaus, but you are pretty annoyed. And certainly not in the mood for anything more than chit-chat right now.

It’s later that night, and why the hell you’re still here you have no idea. You should have left hours ago. You just can’t help but want to see Five again and to maybe try and smooth things over. And you’re worried about him, too. Obviously, he can take care of himself, but that doesn’t mean he won’t do something stupid just because he’s pissed off and not thinking clearly. So, while Klaus is in his room sleeping off his three-day bender, you lie down on the couch. You can’t sleep though so you’re staring up at the ceiling in the dark when you hear a familiar whooshing noise and brief flash of blue light coming from the kitchen. You get up and enter the kitchen quietly.

Five stops short when he sees you, his eyes wide for half a second before he corrects himself and he adopts his signature glare. You watch him as he walks to the sink, grabs a glass out of the cabinet, and fills it with water from the tap. You notice how he swayed a little when he walked and the way his eyes were momentarily unfocused. He turns his back to you as he takes a long drink of water.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks after he swallows.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, ignoring his question.

He gives a short and haughty noise, half snort, half laugh, and he swallows down another gulp of water.

“Hardly,” he answers, still turned away from you. He is deliberately not looking at you, probably waiting for you to give up and leave first.

“Yes, you are,” you insist.

Five turns, spinning abruptly around and facing you head-on. He slams the empty water glass on the counter behind him.

“And what if I was? What the fuck does it matter to you?” he barks, his face hard and angry.

You aren’t going to let him win this one. You aren’t going to let him chase you out of there.

“Where were you anyway?”

He puts his hands in his pockets and leans back against the counter. His hair is disheveled and hanging in his eyes again. His shirt, although slightly wrinkled, is unbuttoned just far enough that you can make out the hard line of his collarbone and the outline of his pecs. He is all tense joints and sinew, skin tight and smooth over rippling muscles; everything coiled tight. He notices you staring at his body and he smirks.

“Aw, did you miss me tending to your every need, princess? Not getting enough attention from my dear brother in there?” He nods his head toward Klaus’s room.

You cross your arms defensively over your chest, staring him down. “Don’t you dare fucking talk to me like that, Five. We are past that.”

He gives another sarcastic huff and turns his back on you again. “Go back to your boyfriend. Leave me alone.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer flatly, although that’s hardly relevant.

Five doesn’t say anything in response at first and you think you’ve won this weird little game you two are playing. Then you see his shoulders slump and his head hangs down.

“Then what are you doing with him?” he asks quietly.

You pause, blinking into the dim light of the kitchen, watching the muscles in his back flex through his shirt as he presses his palms harder into the countertop.

“What do you mean?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

Five turns around to face you, the softness you had heard for just a moment gone again. He takes a menacing step toward you and you instinctively back up.

“I mean, what are you doing with Klaus? Why are you with him?”

Five continues to slowly make his way into your personal space. His eyes are dark and he’s breathing hard with anger or drunkenness, or both. You back up, but you find yourself trapped against the wall. Five pauses for a moment, like he’s unsure he wants to follow through on whatever he’s thinking. But then he’s taking another step toward you, and another, until he’s so close you can see the tiny flecks of brown in his otherwise clear green eyes.

You take a shaking breath in and you can smell the whiskey on his breath, and the leathery scent of the soap you recognize from the shower. You can hear the squeak of his leather dress shoe on the floor and the way the fabric of his pants brushes softly between his legs as he moves in.

When you don’t answer, he asks again, his voice low and demanding. “Why are you with him?”

You swallow hard and try to look away, but his stare is too intense. “I…I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me.”

He’s leaning in, trapping you between his forearms as they are pressed against the wall next to your head, his lips just inches from yours as he waits for your answer. You have a feeling he’s not going anywhere until he hears what he wants to hear.

Your voice is barely a whisper when it comes out. “Because I don’t like being alone.”

One half of Five’s mouth curls up in a self-satisfied smirk. When he closes the already small gap between you and him, he rests his hand on your hip as your thigh grazes against his groin. You can feel the firm bulge starting to form in his perfectly fitted pants as you hold your breath.

“Fuck,” he murmurs painfully.

Before you can react, his mouth is on yours, hungry and rushed, like he’s trying to get as much of you as he can before he changes his mind again. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he presses further into you, flattening you against the wall, his hands clutching firmly to your hips. The weight of his entire body is pressed upon you, your breasts pushed against his chest and your groin flush with his. You take in a gulp of air between open-mouth kisses, half-resisting and half-responding to his touch.

If he senses any hesitation from you, he ignores it. Instead, he moans pitifully in his throat, raising both of his hands to bunch your hair into his fists. The feeling of his fingers against your scalp is like a spark; igniting the rest of your body so that you find yourself grabbing the back of his shirt and pushing your lower body into him.

His hands release from your hair, only to trail down the sides of your face and onto your neck. Hot and insistent, you feel his fingers tracing over the tendons on either side, across your jugular, and dipping into the hollow curve above your collarbone. His mouth leaves yours and follows the same route of his fingers; kissing softly but urgently in a linear pattern.

You are still grasping handfuls of his shirt on his back and then his chest. “Five.”

You don’t know what the meaning behind you saying his name is. You don’t want him to stop, but you can’t think clearly so it’s the only thing that comes out.

“It’s not fair,” he growls into your skin, moving to the other side of your neck. “Not fucking fair.”

A whine escapes your throat and you find yourself arching into him. Into his kisses and into his body. You want more and you don’t care that he’s drunk or that he all but forced himself on you. You’re not going to push him away and you stop kidding yourself that you were even thinking about it in the first place. It feels good. He feels good. And it feels right.

His kisses abruptly stop and when you open your eyes, you’re met with his intense gaze again. His mouth is parted as he labors for breath, chest heaving against yours. His hands are on your neck again. This time, they are encircling it, his palms warm against your skin and his thumbs on your chin, holding you in place and forcing you to look at him.

Five’s eyes are searching your face, taking in every detail.

“I want you. And I don’t fucking care about Klaus or anyone else. I want you,” he states quietly and breathlessly. “But if you want me to stop, tell me and I will. I’ll leave and you can go back to him.”

You frown, your eyebrows drawing together, as you take in the sharp angles of his face and the evident pain and longing that is written all over it. You could end this right now. He would step back, remove his hands from your body, and let you go. But that’s not what you want.

You shake your head slowly. “No. Don’t leave.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out again as if he’s disappointed in your answer.

There’s no time to contemplate that, however, because you are being hoisted up in one boost, Five’s strength more than enough to lift you easily off the ground. On instinct, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. You can feel how hard he is as you pass over his groin and he gives a little grunt at the feeling.

It’s all a delirious haze as you cling to him, kissing his face and neck and winding your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. All while he is carrying you down the short hallway to his bedroom, bumping into the doorjamb on the way in, and closing the door behind him with a kick of his foot.

He walks over to the bed, dropping you down a bit ungracefully. Not that you care. You’re too busy trying desperately to shed your clothes as he does the same, the room filling with the sound of your loud and ragged breathing.

Since you were only wearing a t-shirt and shorts, you’re finished before he is and you lie back, watching as he fumbles with his belt buckle and shoves his pants hurriedly down. His shirt is off already, and you take in the hardness of his chest and the way his shoulders and biceps flex and relax with each movement. The tight boxer briefs he is wearing are damp where his hard cock has been leaking into them.

It’s all happening so fast, and he’s on top of you in a matter of seconds, pinning you down to the mattress, both of you naked and clawing at one another. He is grabbing and kneading your ass with one hand while the other one is on your breast, squeezing almost to the point of pain. But it feels so fucking good, and you’re just as forceful; digging your fingers into his hip and raking your nails roughly down the smooth skin of his back.

“Five,” you whine, unable to say anything else as he bites and sucks at your chest.

He’s groaning and gasping against your skin, like he’s drowning; like he can’t get enough. His mouth is everywhere. Your tits, your stomach, your neck.

He lets out a frustrated growl, even as he takes everything he wants and you let him.

“I hate it…” he mumbles, words cut off as he drags a tongue across your hardened nipple.

“What?” you ask after inhaling a sharp breath, your fist tangled in his dark hair.

Five doesn’t stop, even as he answers you, moving further down your body.

“I hate that he kisses you. I hate that he touches you,” he moans, his lips grazing over you and the words hot against your skin.

He pushes your legs apart and you pull in a deep breath, your hips rising off the bed in response. His mouth is on your inner thigh, pressed against it while his words vibrate over and through you.

“I hate that he makes you wet, and knows how you taste.”

Five is on his knees, face buried between your legs as he licks at your pussy, tongue lapping up the continual flow of your arousal and spreading it up through your aching folds. He’s holding you by your waist with both hands, steadying you as you thrust up into him. His mouth is hot and wet as it engulfs you in messy kisses and licks, the tip of his tongue darting over your clit as he drinks in your wetness and swallows it down.

The accuracy is tortuous, as he hits his target each time, leaving you writhing desperately beneath him, biting your bottom lip as you try in vain to quiet the noises he’s eliciting from you.

“Fi-ive…,”you whine pathetically before inhaling another loud breath.

His mouth is off of you again, leaving you soaking wet and desperate for more. Five is back to kissing up your body, going back over the trail he left on the way down. When he gets to your mouth, he kisses you hard and deep. You can taste your own sex on his tongue as it slips past your lips and inside, colliding with yours. As he bites and pulls at your lips with his teeth, you can feel his cock pressing against the inside of your thigh as he moves his hips rhythmically against you.

“I hate that he fucks you. I hate that he makes you come.” He pauses as he lets out another quiet moan. “And I hate that I hate it.”

He has pulled away from you, green eyes boring into you as he looks into yours. He hasn’t bothered with asking if anything he is doing is ok, probably taking your moans and involuntary hip jerks as proof that you were ok with everything. But now, he seems to be waiting for something. An acknowledgment of what he said. A sign that you want what he wants.

“Don’t you know?” you ask him, panting, as you look back at him. “When I close my eyes, it’s always you.”

One corner of his mouth is turned up, more than satisfied with your answer, as he is repositioning himself and shoving inside of you. You cry out, not even trying to hold it back, as your head falls backward and you clutch onto his shoulders. Five’s own loud groans are punctuated by each slow thrust of his hips as he holds himself over you on his forearms. Your eyes meet again, his face hovering over yours, dark hair hanging in messy strands off his forehead.

“Fuuck…I’ve wanted this for so long,” he breathes out, not breaking eye contact.

He’s slamming into you, his more than sizeable dick filling you up with each push. And it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The way his body fits into yours. The way he looks at you. The intensity mixed with need and want. This is how fucking should feel. And you want to feel this way forever.

He has lowered himself so that your faces are closer; lips just an inch apart. He hasn’t changed his pace, though, still penetrating you over and over again in the perfect rhythm. Your hands run over the tight muscles of his rounded shoulders, nails raking red lines down his back as you lift your legs higher and angle your hips up.

“Look at me,” he demands and you open your eyes immediately in response. “I want you all to myself. I want you to fuck me. Scream for me. Come for me.”

There was no question posed, but you find yourself nodding along, agreeing with each word he says; arching into him and pulling him closer.

It’s not long before the tension is building, the heat spreading out through your groin until it’s no longer bearable. He’s pounding into you with precision and just enough force that you know you’ll be sore tomorrow. But that thought is far back in your mind, and you focus on his loud breathing against your skin, the feral look in his eyes, the way his body moves so perfectly in time with yours.

You come for him, just like he wanted, and you’re loud and desperate; thrashing underneath him, clutching tightly to his sweat-dampened skin. When you moan his name, long and pleading, his thrusts stop as his hips slam into you one more time, his cock unloading inside of you as he shudders and buries his face into the crook of your neck; a painful-sounding growl mixing with his stuttering breath.

Five stays like this, breathing in the scent of your skin and hair, for a minute or two before he lifts himself off of you, lying next to you on his back. He’s still breathing hard, but you can already see the wheels turning in his head; the regret and shame washing over him. You don’t want him to feel like that, though. There’s no reason for him to feel that way.

“Five?” you ask hesitantly.

He turns his head toward you, slowly, hands resting on his chest. You’re not really sure what to say. You want to tell him it’s ok. That you were just as much of a part in this as he is. But you know that will probably make him angry.

“Do you want…” your voice breaks as you look at him, realizing this passionate moment is most likely coming to an end. “Never mind. I can go.”

You sit up and start to maneuver off the bed when you feel his hand on top of yours. When you look back, his face is different. It’s more resolved now, like he’s figured something out.

“No,” he says softly. “Stay.”

“But…” You glance at the closed door of his bedroom, and he knows what you’re thinking because he’s probably thinking the same thing. Klaus. There’s also zero chance that Klaus hadn’t heard your loud cries of his brother’s name and the bed slamming against the wall.

“I don’t care. Stay.” When you look back at him, he smiles just a little. “Please,” he adds.

You return the smile, pushing the covers down so that you can both get underneath. He draws you to him with an arm around your middle and you nestle into his chest. He’s warm and his arm around you is strong, and it feels good.

Neither of you say anything more as you give in to your tiredness, drifting off while Five trails soft lines up and down your arms with his fingers.

Sometime during the night, you feel Five behind you, pressing himself against you and pulling you closer. He’s hard again and lightly kissing your shoulder, running his hand down your arm and then your thigh. You smile sleepily, not even opening your eyes, and push back into him, wordlessly letting him know you want him again.

You’re both caught in that hazy delirium of not being fully awake and Five thrusts into you slowly, rubbing his cheek softly against your hair. It’s passionate and pure, and you might have thought it was a dream if the words he was saying to you weren’t so real.

“I want this,” he whispers into the darkness. “I want this with you. Not just tonight, every night. Please.”

You sigh contentedly, pressing your backside into him as he fucks you perfectly.

“I want this, too. It’s always you, Five,” you answer, reaching your arm back to cradle his head in your hand.

He’s groaning low and desperately, his forehead pressed into your neck.

“I’ll take care of you like you deserve,” he’s pleading as he thrusts harder into you and his hand moves between your legs, urging you on. “Whatever you need, I’ll give to you. I’ll make you happy.”

You whine quietly, already feeling the need for release. “I know you will…I know…” You gasp when he gives one forceful thrust, fingers pressing hard against your clit. “You’re all I need.”

“Please,” he’s murmuring against your neck. “Please let me. I’m all yours, sweetheart. Please,” he keeps repeating, right before you’re both shuddering and moaning as everything builds and you reach your apices together.

The post-orgasmic high you are feeling is mixing with your emotions and your exhaustion, and you blink into the darkness of the room, feeling Five pull out; the hot cum he just pumped into you seeping out and sticking between your bodies. It doesn’t matter, though. He still has you in his arms as you both sink further into the mattress again.

He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you. You feel him nuzzle into your neck and your hair, his lips pressed against you and you sigh happily. Who knows what the morning will bring, but that is still several hours away, and no matter what, you belong to each other now. You interlace your fingers with his and settle into the perfect curve of his body as you fall back into a peaceful sleep. 

When you wake up, the sunlight is streaming through the window and across Five’s bed, and you are alone. But it doesn’t take long to figure out what woke you up in the first place. Loud voices are arguing, sounding like they are coming from the kitchen, and growing louder by the second.

“You are a massive asshole!”

“Oh, get over yourself, Klaus! You’re only mad because it’s a blow to your fragile ego.”

Klaus gives a sarcastic snort. “Uh, no, actually, I’m mad because my own BROTHER fucked my GIRLFRIEND!”

“She’s not your girlfriend! You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“What-fucking-ever! It’s still fucked up. It’s still a betrayal!”

You hear Five laugh dangerously and you can picture his stance; body strung tight as a bow, jaw set in defiance, fists clenched.

“You don’t even care about her, Klaus. Admit it.”

There’s a pause as neither one of them say anything. You listen carefully for Klaus’s answer, if he gives one. Finally, he speaks. It’s quiet, but you can just make it out.

“Maybe not. Not in the way that I should, anyway.” He pauses. “But here’s the thing, Five. I cared about you. You know, you’re always reminding me to be careful all the time and not to be so trusting of everyone. Well, you were right; I trusted you and look how that turned out. You’re not my brother. Go fuck yourself.”

You hear footsteps and then the door slams. There’s silence again.

You don’t know what to do, so you stay put. You’re still naked, though, so you scramble off the bed and gather up your underwear and the t-shirt you were wearing. As you yank it over your head, Five opens the door and walks in. He’s carrying two mugs of hot coffee and he hands one silently over to you.

You say thank you as you accept the mug, but your smile of appreciation goes unreturned as Five crosses back the way he came and stands in the open doorway. His face is impassive. Uncaring. The opposite of the passion you saw in his eyes just hours earlier. You frown over your coffee as you take a small sip.

“I heard you and Klaus and I’m so sorry. I know this is hard, but…” you start to say, but Five cuts you off.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Look, I have a lot of things to do today, though, so you should probably get going.”

You flinch at his abruptness and you can’t even pretend to hide your hurt. You see a faint flicker of some emotion in his eyes before it’s gone again. Blank.

“What do you mean? I thought we…” your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence as the words catch in your throat. You swallow and try again. “You said…”

Five jumps in again before you can finish. “I was drunk, I didn’t know what I was saying,” he replies, his voice flat and unmoving. “I’m sorry if I misled you. Obviously, this was a mistake.”

He says nothing more; just turns around and walks out, leaving you sitting on his bed, coffee cup in hand, and a sick feeling in your stomach. Your chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe. You can’t believe what’s happening right now. How he’s treating you. Your heart is breaking into a million pieces and it’s humiliating.

After you gather your things, pull on your clothes, and pack your bag with the few toiletries and other things you’ve been leaving there, you head out to the living room. Five is there, dressed in his normal black slacks and white button-down, sitting in one of the chairs. He has a newspaper in his lap and he doesn’t look up when you enter. You stand there, staring, until he reluctantly meets your eyes.

You are trying desperately to hold back tears, and for the most part you are doing a good job. But they are there, threatening to spill over at any second. You try to steady your voice.

“I get it if this is hard for you, Five. It’s hard for me, too. I didn’t want to come between you and your brother. But pretending that this was a mistake? That what you said last night didn’t mean anything? That’s bullshit and you know it!”

He cocks his head to the side and crosses one leg over another as he gives you a condescending smirk.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Never heard of a one-night stand?” he sneers.

“Fuck you,” you spit out, your voice hitching in your throat.

You turn away and head for the door before he can see you cry. On your way out, you stop and turn back. He’s still sitting there, looking after you, the same non-expression on his face.

“One last thing before I go. You did this, Five, not me. You pushed me away. So, if you wake up one day and you’re all alone…you only have yourself to blame. Because this could have been something really good.”

You turn and close the door behind you, not even bothering to look back again.

Chapter Six: My Own Worst Enemy

I’ve dealt with a lot of regret in my life. Times when I’ve wanted to kick my own ass and beat the living shit out of me. A couple of times I’ve been successful in rewinding time by a few minutes to fix my mistakes. Other times, not so much. But none of those times, barring that little snafu when I ended up living in a barren wasteland for 45 years, have come close to how much I hate myself right now.

After she slams the door shut, I blink myself over there. My hand is on the doorknob, mid-turn, when I stop myself again. I can’t think straight and I don’t even know what is right or what is wrong anymore. All I know is that all of this is my fault. If I had just kept to myself and kept my dick in my pants, I wouldn’t be standing here like this now. I rest my forehead against the door and squeeze my eyes shut. I briefly think about going back and changing this. I only need a few minutes, not long. I can tell her I’m sorry and that I don’t want her to leave. I can tell her I did mean everything I said before. I can try and fix it. But I don’t.

I slam my fist against the door and kick it at the same time. “FUCK!”

That’s all there is to say in this situation because I may have just lost the two most important people in my life. All because of my stupid, thoughtless actions. I feel bad about Klaus, but I know he’ll eventually get over it. He might not forgive me, but I know he’ll be ok. But her…that look in her eyes when I told her I didn’t mean any of it…I don’t think I can fix that. I wouldn’t even know how, because I don’t think I’ve ever hurt someone that badly and that viciously before. If I have, I hadn’t cared until now.

I had panicked. I thought I had made peace with everything and then Klaus had said what he did to me. You’re not my brother. And he was right. Not only am I not even his biological brother, but I have been on my high horse pretending I can protect him, when really all I do is make shit worse. What kind of a brother, adopted or not, does that?

The thing is, if I had just gone about this in a completely different way, it probably would have turned out just fine. I could have gone to him, told him I had feelings for her and that I thought maybe she felt the same way, and apologize. Maybe he would have been a little mad, but in all reality, he probably would have been fine with it. It’s the way that it happened that really threw a monkey wrench into the whole thing.

I know he wasn’t all that into her, and vice versa. But to take the same girl that your brother has been sleeping with on a regular basis and fuck her (loudly), right down the hall from him without so much as a heads-up-pre-coitus email…that’s probably some sort of code violation right there. Granted, I’m sometimes oblivious to social norms and things other people might describe as “tact”, but I do know this is a pretty blatant faux pas.

I shouldn’t have gotten so pissed. I shouldn’t have gone off to drink my feelings away. I shouldn’t have stayed in the kitchen talking to her. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.

I was mad at Klaus for not stepping up when he should have, but I was mostly just mad at him for having her in the first place. And then when she came to his defense…that was too much. I had to get out of there before I said or did something even worse. So, I did what I usually do when things get too scrambled in my brain; I went to find some booze.

The bar I chose was the first one I had come across while I was storming down the sidewalk, and I found an empty barstool where I could sit and wallow in self-pity. The place was a total dive, but it was dark and crowded and the bartender had no issue serving me as many shots of whiskey that I asked for. I think I was on my fourth when I noticed the girl on the other end of the bar eye-fucking me. She was cute, with dark brown hair and a minuscule top that didn’t do much to hide her impressive rack. In my drunken state, I found myself staring back at her, which she took as an invitation.

I can hold my liquor, but after five shots, even I’m going to get a little sloppy. Everything was a blur. It was dark, loud, and my senses were all screwed up. She was standing between my legs, leaning in to talk to me, and I could smell her perfume which I didn’t particularly like. I don’t even know what she was saying to me. Her hand was on my thigh and she was purposefully pressing her tits against me as she talked close to my ear. I could feel her hand moving higher up my leg, and she was saying something about leaving together and going back to her place. It sounded like a good idea, but something was off.

I felt her lips brush against my cheek and that’s when I had a moment of clarity. Her voice was all wrong, her perfume was giving me a headache, and if I was paying attention to what she had been saying, I’m sure I would have found her boring. More importantly, she wasn’t her. And if it wasn’t her, I didn’t really give a shit. Grabbing the woman’s wrist with my hand, she stopped her kiss and pulled back, confused.

“Stop,” I said, gradually snapping out of the trance I had been in. When she questioned me, obviously irritated that I would be turning her advances down, I let go of her hand, pushing it off of me. “Go shove your tits in someone else’s face. I’m not interested.”

With a glare, she turned around, but not before she flipped me off and called me an asshole. That’s when I figured I should get out of there before I drank enough that I wouldn’t be able to find my way out. I also figured it would be safe to go home because she would have left the apartment hours before that. Wrong again.

When I saw her there, I just couldn’t keep it up anymore. I couldn’t see the point. And if she had slapped me across the face, or asked me to stop, I would have. I would have been humiliated, but I would have stopped. But she didn’t want me to.

God, I can still feel her body against mine and hear her moaning my name. I can still taste her on my tongue and smell the sweat on her skin. She invaded all of my senses and she’s still clinging to me. I have never begged anyone for anything in my entire life, and yet there I was, pleading with her to be with me. She had said she wanted to, and I could feel how much she meant it. We were going to be happy together; I had promised her I would take care of her like she deserves. It was all right there for me. All of the things I had been dreaming of and wanting for so long. Then I went and fucked it all up.

She was right, too. I will wake up all alone one day, and I will have no one to blame but myself.

It’s a week later, and I’m busy packing up all of my shit into boxes since I plan on moving out tomorrow. I haven’t seen much of Klaus because he hasn’t been around a lot and when he is, he avoids me and locks himself in his room. I had immediately started looking for a new place and I found one that is ok and will be fine short term. It’s also fairly close to her coffee shop, which had not been intentional, but it’s not my fault that’s where it’s located. I’m packing up some books when Klaus comes and stands in the doorway. I look up, startled. He’s holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and two shot glasses in the other.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks.

“Sure, come on in.”

He walks in and sits down on the edge of my bed. He puts the shot glasses on the side table and pours vodka into each of them, filling them to the top before he sets the bottle down. He hands one over to me and I take it from him even though I’m confused as hell right now.

“What’s this for?” I ask.

Klaus shrugs. “I don’t know, but I feel like we should have one more drink together before you move out.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just follow his lead and hold my glass up in a toast before slinging it back. It burns on the way down but it tastes good.

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Klaus says after a long pause.

“Yes, I do.”

He sighs and looks around my room. “Look, I know this is a weird situation, and I am still mad at you, but that doesn’t mean I want you to leave.”

“You told me I wasn’t your brother and to go fuck myself,” I remind him.

“Ah, yes, well…perhaps I was a bit over-dramatic. I was just a tad hungover still and you were yelling just so loudly. Really, Five, your voice just pierces right into the brain sometimes and makes people say things just to get you to stop.” I shake my head. “No, you were the appropriate amount of dramatic and I don’t blame you. You’re right, I’m a shitty brother and I messed up big time. Which is why I need to leave.”

“Look, Five, I didn’t mean all of that, ok? Yes, I was pissed. And yes, maybe what you did was not the greatest thing ever. But you were also right.”

“About what?”

“About not caring about her. I realize that regardless of our status, I still was a pretty shitty friend to her. I’m glad she had you here. Even if you did rail her hard enough I think even I could feel it.”

I cringe. “Klaus, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t begin to cover it, but I truly am sorry.”

He nods thoughtfully. “So…how long have you been in love with her?”

I stare, open-mouthed and wide-eyed; dumbstruck. Klaus laughs.

“You think you’re so smart and slick all of the time, but I got news for you Fivey…you ain’t.”

“What are you talking about?” I sputter out, even though it’s about the worst acting anyone’s ever done.

Klaus rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s ok, you can admit it. I’m not dumb or blind. Or deaf, as it turns out. I know how you operate around people, and I have never seen you like you are when you’re with her. You are one smitten kitten and you know what? Good for you.”

I am about to protest again, but when I go to deny it, I realize I just don’t have the heart or the energy for it. “Ok, you’re right, I love her. I’m sorry, but I do. I have for a while now.”

He nods and smiles, not shocked by this information. “Like I said, good for you. You deserve love and happiness in your life, Five. Would I have preferred it to be with someone I hadn’t also bumped uglies with? Probably. But hey, love works in mysterious ways, right? I mean, look at me! I fell in love with someone I met after falling out of the sky in the middle of a fucking war zone. Talk about bad timing! I guess we Hargreeves are good at bad timing, though, aren’t we?”

He laughs, even though it’s more sad than funny and I stand there for a minute in thought. Then I come to a conclusion.

“There’s only one way I’m going to feel better about this and be able to move on with a reasonably clear conscience.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to hit me.”

Klaus looks at me in disbelief. “Uh…yeah, ok, Five. I’m not falling for that.”

I shake my head and roll my shoulders back, facing him head-on. “No, I mean it. I want you to punch me directly in the face. I won’t hit back or defend myself.”

“Five, I don’t want to hit you…”

“Come on! I’m sure you’ve thought about it on several occasions before. Well, now here’s your chance. For the second time in your life, you can hit me in the face without any backlash. I promise.”

He chuckles. “Oh yeah, that was a fun day. But seriously, even if I did want to hit you, which I don’t, I’m not even good at it, you know that. I never have been. I’m like one of those guys in old cartoons where they swing and miss and just spin around in a circle.”

“Klaus, for fucks sake, stand up and punch me in the fucking face!”

After another pause, he stands up in front of me. He’s still taller than me, despite me being at my full height now. He looks down on me nervously and I see his fists clench and unclench.

“Really? You really want me to do this?”

I nod. “I really do.” Then I hold my finger up. “However, just remember this is one hit.”

He shrugs and lifts his fist up, pulling it back and I close my eyes to brace myself. WHAM! He gets me right in the jaw and he is a big fucking liar because he is good at it and it hurts like a motherfucker.

“Son of a…Fuck!” I yell, holding my face. I swear I can already feel a bruise forming and I run my tongue over my teeth to make sure they are all still accounted for.

“Oh my god, Five, are you ok? Shit, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I actually did that!” Klaus is panicking at first but after a couple of seconds, he starts laughing. “I can’t believe I actually did that. And you haven’t killed me or even maimed me! Man, I got you good, too.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, still rubbing my throbbing jaw. “Turns out it hurts a whole lot more when you know it’s coming.” Klaus continues to laugh at my pain, and even though it hurts to move my face, I grin up at him. “This was a one-time offer, by the way. So, don’t be thinking you’re hot shit, because I will drop you without a second thought.”

Klaus gives a sarcastic salute. “Message received, big bro.” He purses his lips together and gestures to the boxes around my room. “So, are you still leaving?”

I nod. “Yes, I’m still leaving. And it’s not even all because of that. I don’t think it’s doing either of us any good to be living together like this. I have realized that I was using you as an excuse not to move on with my life. I told myself I was doing you a favor when in reality, I was just looking for a purpose. Any purpose. But I need to figure that out for myself.”

“Ok, but you’re just going to leave me all alone here?”

I shrug. “Maybe Luther wants to move in.”

Klaus looks horrified. “Good lord, no thank you! You skipped out on the grosser years of having to live with that barn animal and let me tell you, it’s no picnic. I don’t need giant pairs of tighty whities thrown around my bathroom, or having boxes of my favorite cereal eaten up in two days.”

I grin and clap him on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, Klaus. You always do. And you don’t need me to help you do it, either.”

“Thanks, Fivey,” he says softly, before catching me off guard and pulling me in for a bear hug, trapping me against his chest.

“Ah! My face! Let go, you stupid asshole!” He lets me go and I rub at my jaw again, glaring up at him. He is unfazed so I just shake my head. Klaus will always be Klaus, and I meant what I said. He’ll be just fine without me here.

*********************************************************************

“Feet. Off. The coffee table,” I say as I whack at Klaus with a rolled-up newspaper like he’s a cat on a kitchen counter.

“Hey! Geez, alright…keep your shirt on, old man,” he protests as he tries to guard himself with his hands while removing his feet from where they were propped. “What’s got your little assassin bonnet full of bees today?”

“Nothing! Maybe I just don’t want your disgusting feet all over my furniture.”

Klaus tilts his head to the side, looking up at me. “No…I don’t think that’s it. You seem even more murderous lately than normal.” Then his face lights up. “I know! I bet you haven’t been laid in a while, that’s got to be it. That’s an easy fix, too, because I bet if I go outside right now and made an announcement that the infamous and very sexy Number Five Hargreeves was looking for some action, you’d have a stampede of pretty ladies and probably some pretty men breaking down your door.”

“Klaus,” I start to say before he interrupts.

“Wait! Here’s a better idea. Me and you, we go on the prowl tonight. I’ll take you to some great clubs where you can meet someone that’s suitable for banging. Well, they’re not clubs as much as warehouses full of people tripping on acid, but still. I guarantee I can get you laid by the end of the night.”

“Klaus.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

When he manages to look like a kicked puppy, I roll my eyes and sigh. “Thank you for your concern over my sex life, but I do not need to get laid. I’m fine.”

He eyes me up and when I look away guiltily, he gasps with a hand on his chest. “Hang on. Do not tell me the last time you put your banana in a fruit salad was with…”

My silence is the only answer he needs and he gives another dramatic gasp, which makes me grit my teeth together.

“Holy shit, Fivey! Well, no fucking wonder you’ve got your man panties in a wad lately.”

“Again, and I say this with the utmost love and respect…shut the fuck up.”

He stands up. “No, no, no…I will not shut up! So, you’re telling me that over the past six months , you’ve been carrying a torch for her? Wow, that is some romantic shit right there. But still, that shouldn’t stop you from driving the ol’ Pope mobile into some lucky lady’s Vatican now and then.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“We don’t have time to get into all of that right now. Besides, this is about you. I’m serious, Five, you can’t go on re-living your virgin years just because you’re a little hung up on one person.”

I shake my head and put my hands in my pockets. “I’m not just hung up on her. She’s all I think about. All day, all night. I still love her, Klaus.”

I don’t know why I let my walls down just now and told him the truth, but the fact is we have actually been getting along much better now that we aren’t under the same roof anymore. I’m starting to feel a little more comfortable talking about things with him. And the nice thing about Klaus is that he’s done so many weird and fucked up things in his life, he never judges.

“Oh, Five,” he says sadly. “I had no idea. You never mentioned it so I just assumed you’d moved on.”

“Yeah, well…it’s fine. I’ll get over it eventually.”

“You know, the easy solution to this is to walk your cute buns over to that coffee place of hers and tell her what you just told me. Confess your undying love. Sweep her off her feet.”

I laugh and run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, I don’t think that would work. Pretty sure she hates my guts. And for good reason.”

“Listen, as someone who had a very close seat to the ‘Five Hargreeves Fuck-tacular’ show, I’m going to bet she doesn’t hate your guts. No one sounds like that while getting their naughty bits plowed into oblivion and then just forgets about it.”

Ignoring that little comment, I shake my head. “You don’t understand. I really fucked this one up and I don’t think there’s any way to come back from it.”

“Well, all you can do is try. If she hates you, then it’s as you suspected and you can move on. If not, then you two can sail off into the sunset together. There’s really nothing to lose here.”

He has a point, but the thought of just walking in there to try and talk to her is terrifying. I’m not sure I have the balls for it.

“Want me to go talk to her for you?” he asks.

“What? No!” When I see him smile mischievously, I jab my finger at him. “I’m warning you, Klaus, if you go over there and so much as even mention my name, I swear to god I will blink you to Antarctica and leave you there.”

Klaus waves his hand at me. “Please…you’ve been threatening that since we were kids. You really need to come up with something new. But, fine, I won’t go over there.”

When I nod my approval, I assume this conversation is done. It’s not, apparently, and Klaus grins at me again.

“In the meantime, how about I set you up on some casual dates? You don’t want to be out of practice if your lady decides to take you back. What do you think? You up for a game of pelvic pinochle? Burying the weasel? Filling the cream donut? Launching the meat missile?”

I massage my temples with my fingers, trying to fight off the headache I can feel forming behind my eyes. “For the love of all that is holy, Klaus, can you please shut the fuck up? I am begging you.”

He gives his annoying little Klaus giggle. “Sure thing, Fivey. Whatever you say.”

“Thank you.”

Four days later I’m whacking at him with the newspaper again. This time for a different reason.

“Ow! I didn’t mention your name, just like you told me, I swear! Ow!”

“You talked to her and gave her my address!” I yell, whacking at him harder around the head.

“Damnit, cut it out! You said don’t mention your name and I didn’t. She just happened to know who I was talking about. OW!”

I stop my assault and stand there, breathing hard through my nose as I glare at my stupid ass brother. “Why? Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Listen, Fivey, I love you and all but you are really your own worst enemy. I’m trying to move things along for you; help you out. You can’t stay here, all pent-up with sexual energy and moping around the house for the rest of your life. Don’t you want to get out there and live? Don’t you want someone to share your life with?”

I sigh and flop down into an armchair. He’s right, of course, even if I don’t want to admit it. “Maybe,” I mutter.

“Of course you do! That’s what everyone wants in life. And you, old timer, have been given the gift of time and the chance to start over. That’s like everyone’s dream! So, don’t just sit here and waste a gift like that. Not when you could be out there spreading a little of that teleporting-genius-infused DNA around with your special man sauce.”

I make a face. “Gross. Please don’t say ‘man sauce’ again.”

“Anyway…she didn’t say she wanted you dead and she accepted the piece of paper I gave her, so…I don’t know, those are both good things, right?”

“I guess. Did she say anything else?” I ask, trying not to get my hopes up.

Klaus shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

I wasn’t expecting anything, but it still feels like a bit of a blow. I nod, and then I look at Klaus suspiciously. “Did you say anything else?”

He puts a hand to his chest. “Who, moi ? Of course not. Well, I did apologize for everything that went down, but like I said, your name didn’t come up.”

“Hmm…why do I get the feeling that’s not the full truth?”

Klaus shrugs innocently. “I have no idea, but trust me. I bet any day now she’ll come knocking on your door wanting some more of that sweet, sweet loving from you. Just you wait.”

As if his prophecy was about to be fulfilled at that precise moment, I glance towards the door. What would I even say if she really did show up here? I had been avoiding her place like the plague, even though that meant taking much longer routes to certain places. Except for those few times when I couldn’t help myself and I watched through the windows from across the street and then blinked away before she could spot me. Otherwise, the thought of having to face her again makes my stomach churn. So, maybe Klaus did do me a favor. Maybe she really will hunt me down and knock on my door one day soon. If she does, I’m sure it will be just for the opportunity to chew me out. But, even so, the thought of seeing her standing in front of me again makes my pulse race just a little faster.

Link to the next few chapters here!

@baileebear

[yourthemaster11-blog]

Sarah needs this more than ever!

My f/o is traumatized and I want so badly to just be there for them, hold and comfort them and tell them how much I adore them. To let them know that's it's ok to be vulnerable and that experiencing negative emotion isn't "being a downer" or anything like that. To help them feel truly safe and that they belong. I want to help them heal. They are such a sweetheart and they didn't deserve any of what happened to them

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 18

(Ch. 17) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: New visitors share old memories and Alix finds out just how much it cost Joe to be there when she needed him.

A/N: One thing about Alix Martinelli is that she will fight everything + everyone tooth & nail, even her own feelings lol

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @emmythespacecowgirl @sleepisforcowards @hxad-ovxr-hxart @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @indigo-luvers @chaosklutz

Contemporary: October 22nd, 1944. Zetten-Andelot, Netherlands.

It'd been just about a month since she'd last heard from Joe and though she would never admit it out loud, Alix was worried.

In spite of her outwardly prickly demeanor, she had hoped he would at least send a letter or maybe a note...

Technically, she wasn't supposed to read for another two weeks to ensure her concussion was fully healed but for Joe, she would have made an exception.

Gio had always said that no news was good news but that pertained mainly to letters from home while they were away at school, not updates from… from friends during a war. 

That’s what we are, Alix thought, trying to force the phrase to stick in her brain. We’re just friends. 

But nonetheless, for reasons she couldn't explain, Alix found herself craning her neck till it ached every time she heard the screeching tires of arriving ambulances, praying desperately that it wouldn't be Joe she'd see laying bloody and broken on a stretcher.

Fortunately, it never was but the bittersweet relief she felt each time made her heart heavy with guilt.

These were someone's sons, brothers, boyfriends, husbands, she thought to herself as she listened to the gutwrenching agony of the wounded. Their lives mattered too.

Yes, they were people she hardly knew, but so was Joe…Wasn’t he?

Why did she care so much about a man she barely knew?

Why did her heart race at the very thought of him?

Why did the memory of his arms around her bring a rush of heat to her cheeks?

Why did her head automatically swivel when she swore she'd heard his voice?

She couldn't say but it was driving her insane.

She hated herself for it but ever since their last meeting, the paratrooper had been occupying her thoughts more and more, though she would continue to chalk it up to the wandering thoughts of an idle mind.

She couldn't afford it being anything else, not now.

Not during a war.

This was no time for romance.

Besides, she reasoned, it's not like she had anything else to do except let her thoughts run wild. They were products of her boredom, nothing more.

The doctor had been very clear: Due to the severity of her concussion, there would be no reading, no writing, no planning or executing missions and no training or physical exertion allowed for at least the next two weeks as a further precaution to ensure that it was healed properly.

Until then, she was more or less confined to her cot in a cramped, chaotic room, constantly surrounded by the misery of the dead and dying.

It might as well have been prison.

One of her only distractions from the monotony was the radio.

Stolen Owned by a paratrooper from the 82nd a few rows down from her, it was only ever set on one channel but it constantly buzzed with lively swing music, interspersed with regular so-called "updates" from a well-known Nazi propagandist. 

Her predictably defeatist statements were irritating to listen to but listening to actual music from home almost made them worth suffering through.

"Good evening, Yankees," an alluring alto voice purred over the grainy air waves, causing a temporary hush around the aid station.

"Axis Sally here, sending you a warm welcome from Radio Berlin."

"This that Jerry bitch again?" Someone snorted loudly from across the room and Alix stifled a giggle.

Apparently Nazi propaganda wasn't working as well as the enemy would have hoped.

"At the sound of the chime, it will be exactly 21:00 Eastern War Time on October the 22nd, 1944."

1944?

Alix stiffened.

Ever since her head injury, hearing the year out loud sent shockwaves rippling through her system as her brain struggled to fill in the blanks.

When she had first come to, she would have bet her entire inheritance that it was still 1943, that she still had a year left to train, that she still had a year left before she would have to take a life for the first time.

But that was a comforting delusion, not reality.

She had been wounded in the field during a mission, so she'd been told.  With a thirty-foot drop like that onto cobblestone, it was a miracle she hadn't broken her neck.

But why had she fallen in the first place? Surely, she wasn't that clumsy.

Or had she jumped? But why would she take that kind of risk?

She could have been killed.

Alix had far more questions than answers, a fact that only made her head ache worse with every blaring trumpet.

Her case officer, Lieutenant...Well, Captain Nixon now, stood against the brick wall on her right side, supervising her recovery like a silent spectre.

He would pop in every few days to check on her but he rarely spoke and Alix got the feeling that he was trying to keep himself distracted, though from what, she couldn't be sure.

More a shadow than a man, Nixon stood out of the way of the nurses as he nonchalantly skimmed fresh intel reports like the evening paper.

"Mind if I-?" Alix started, reaching a hand out to pluck a file from the bunch but before she could, the sight of two fast-approaching paratroopers caught her attention. 

One seemed to be calling something out in her direction as he approached and the other was waving his arms enthusiastically as though signaling a plane.

“Hey Pyro, we thought that might be you!” 

The speaker had a face dusted with freckles, decidedly auburn hair that was sticking to his forehead, and an exhausted but upbeat smile that faded to a frown as he approached. 

“Jesus, you look like shit.” 

His companion, a trooper about a head shorter with a mop of dirty blond hair and startlingly golden eyes, smacked him in the arm.

“Nice going, Don,” he quipped, shaking his head with a bemused chuckle. “Why get off on the right foot when you can shove it straight in your mouth instead, huh?”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Alix interjected, taking the pair by surprise and the redhead– Don– made an emphatic gesture with an arm. 

“See, even she admits it!” 

“Don’t encourage him, Pyro,” the blond one scolded in an exaggerated stage-whisper, laughter twinkling in his amber eyes.

“I’m trying to teach him some manners here.” 

“Oh get lost,” the redhead– Don, Alix corrected herself– scoffed, jostling his friend’s arm jokingly.

“Man gets a fiancée and suddenly thinks he knows all about women!”

“I know they generally don’t like being told they look like shit, Mal,” was the dry reply.

“But you don’t exactly have to be Dick fucking Tracy to figure that one out.” 

“Hi, sorry, um,” Alix interrupted, waving a hand to get their attention. “Hate to put a damper on things but do I know you...? And why do you keep calling me…Wait, what did you call me?” 

“Shit,” the redhaired one-- Don-- breathed as his brows knit with concern. “So it is true.” 

“What’s true?” she inquired, already feeling even more out of the loop than before.

“You really can’t remember. Lieb said so but I didn’t think–”

The spy’s head perked up instantly. 

Lieb…As in Liebgott? As in Joe Liebgott?

He was alive?

“Joe’s okay?” she asked, a note of hope ringing out clear in her voice and the blond paratrooper exchanged an amused glance with his friend. 

“Well wouldja look at that, Mal.” He put a teasing hand to his heart as though swooning, cracking a playful grin. “As the great poet, Larry Clinton and his orchestra once said: ���Love really does live on’.”  

“‘Love’, my ass,” Alix retorted unceremoniously with a roll of her eyes. “I asked if he’s okay, not if he’d marry me.”

She hated how her heart seemed to skip a beat at the notion.

“Bet he’d say yes if you did ask though,” Don hooted and his blond friend snorted in agreement. 

“Are you two done yet?” the agent asked dryly, pretending to inspect an invisible watch on her wrist with impatience.

With a shake of his head and a grin so infectious that Alix couldn’t help but grin too, the blond paratrooper plopped down at the foot of her bed, causing the frame to groan its complaint.

“Oh we’re just getting started!” he piped up proudly, his amber eyes twinkling with warmth. “We’ve got a lot to catch you up on!” 

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

“And then, wham!" 

Don swung his fist out in a dramatic slow-motion display.

"You slugged him right in the kisser!" 

The blond trooper, whose name was Skip– pretended to fall back onto the bed with a high-pitched "Nyahh" reminiscent of the Three Stooges and Alix couldn’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of his performance. 

“Somehow I doubt it went exactly like that,” she commented wryly but Don shrugged amicably. 

“No, it was basically like that,” he corrected with a chuckle. “Except with a lot more swearing. And blood, way too much blood.”

"It was a real show!" the blond– Skip– agreed, sitting up and swinging his legs back and forth over the bed's edge like an excitable child. 

"Like watching Sugar Ray in the ring…Y'know, if Sugar Ray was a short Philly Italian with martial arts training and anger management issues!"

"And that's why everybody calls you Pyro,” Don informed Alix with a proud smile. “Like pyrotechnics. Y'know, firecrackers! Bull came up with it!” 

Now she was lost again. 

“Sorry, who?” she asked, trying to keep the rising frustration out of her voice. 

After all, it wasn’t their fault she couldn’t remember.

“Bull Randleman,” Nixon answered from beside her, barely looking up from the report he was reading.

“He’s an NCO. You’ll meet him when you get back. Great soldier–” 

“And a swell guy too!” Skip added happily. “Say, that reminds me! How long're you in for?" 

Glancing surreptitiously at Nixon to be sure he wasn't listening, Alix leaned over to her newfound friends, lowering her voice.

"Nurses say about two more weeks but I'll be damned if I stay here that long. I'm going out of my mind." 

"Well hopefully it'll be sooner than that," Don said, putting his hands in his pockets. "'Cause we all miss you."

Skip waggled his eyebrows. 

"Especially a certain Corporal Liebgott," he sing-songed and Alix rolled her eyes. 

"If that was true, he'd be here," the spy countered but to her right, Nixon gave a skeptical snort. 

"What?" Alix snapped, rounding on her handler.

"You think he hasn't tried?" The captain barked out a laugh. 

"Liebgott's been bugging the hell out of any officer he can get his hands on, trying to get us to cut him loose so he can come here. If we didn't need him interrogating prisoners, I would've let him go myself just to get him to shut up already." 

Alix blinked in shock. 

"Wait, really?" 

"No, I'm just lying to inflate your ego." Nixon said sarcastically. "Of course really. Kid must have it bad too because that stunt he pulled last time, staying here overnight when he should've been back, cost him his promotion." 

The spy balked. 

“It what?!” 

“Just what I said. Liebgott might be a scrawny, hot-tempered, snarky little shit but he's also a damn fine interrogator and one hell of a machine gunner." 

He shifted the dossier he had been skimming to his other arm and then continued.

"Not to mention, for some reason, he's still only a T/5 at 25 years old. Dick was filling out the paperwork to get him promo'd to T/4 when he heard about the whole 'Lieb going AWOL' thing and…" 

Nixon grimaced with a helpless shrug. 

"Well, you can imagine how that went." 

Joe had lost his promotion…Because of her?

Tugging her thin, medical issue blanket around her shoulders, Alix's thoughts were moving at warp-speed. 

This was not what she had wanted, not at all. 

If she had known that Joe would get in trouble for staying, she never would have asked him to.

She had been through flashbacks and panic attacks before; as awful as they were, they were nothing new. She had become a distraction to him and him to her. 

This needed to stop.

But the steely edge of Nixon's voice cut through her thoughts like a knife.

“And don’t go beating yourself up for it, alright, because I know you are.” 

Her case officer crossed his arms before continuing. 

“Lieb made his choice– he put his personal feelings before the job. That is not your fault.”

The young agent sank back in her cot with a sigh of defeat as she watched the never-ending crush of patients being rushed in like commuters from 30th Street Station.

Joe had put his job on the line for her…However complex her feelings about him were, Alix couldn’t allow them to continue, for Joe’s sake. 

Turning to Skip and Don, who were engrossed in their own conversation, she decided to make one thing crystal clear. 

“Don’t you two go risking your careers for me too, you got that?” 

The redhead dug a hand into his pocket with a chuckle.

 

“Don’t worry,” he said breezily, pulling out a crumpled carton of iodine swabs and some hastily-wound gauze for her inspection.

“We’re here on official business.” 

“Volunteered for a supply run while there’s a lull,” Skip explained with an infectious grin, revealing a couple pilfered tourniquets stuffed into his jacket.

"We wanted to check up on you and Spina's already starting to run low on some stuff so we figured two birds, one stone, ya know?" 

Alix couldn’t help but grin with him, already feeling at-ease in their presence. 

“You guys are the best.”

“We know,” Don quipped, jostling her shoulder lightly. “But what are friends for?” 

“It really blows that you can’t come back with us, Pyro.” Skip’s seemingly ever-present smile started to slip slightly. 

“Just doesn’t feel right without you. We’re missing our third man…Well, woman. But you get what I mean.” 

It was then that an idea struck Alix like a bolt of lightning, an idea so risky that for a second, she wondered if it was even worth mentioning. 

But she had to try...She couldn't spend another week cooped up at the aid station, bedridden and bored to tears while thousands of others were risking their lives, she just couldn't. 

The field was where she belonged, where she had fought so hard to be.

Besides, her most serious injury-- her concussion-- was almost healed and she had been assured that her memory would return in time.

With her cover as a combat nurse still intact, Alix knew she could just as easily let her wrist and ankle heal after she made it back to Joe--

To Easy, she corrected herself. After she made it back to Easy Company.

So it was decided then.

She knew what she had to do.

Gesturing surreptitiously for her new friends to move closer, Alix whispered, "Say, how'd you guys like to help me bust out of here?"

[curlyparmesan]

OC + Random Associations

tagged by @lesbianaloy, thanks for thinking of me <3

It's Flit, the half wood-elf thief! Specifically Flit as she has grown throughout her misadventures.

🗡 animal - Raven, but not in the gloomy sense, mostly as a hoarder of shiny trinkets and harbinger of death (ok, maybe a little gloomy)

🗡 colors - White and scarlet, avoids drab colors at all cost

🗡 month - October, when the greatest bounties of the land spring forth

🗡 songs - Pays Imaginaire by Polo & Pan, luckily she woke up from her dream with Shadowheart still by her side (runner up is for sure When I Die by Pepper Coyote, since everyone will remember her as a reluctant hero instead of the 'live fast die young' thief she really is)

🗡 number - 57877, the amount of gold she stole before reluctantly saving the world

🗡 plants - I immediately thought of a blackberry plant since they're so prickly, then I learned blackberry plants are part of the rose family and flower! She used to eat them growing up on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate

🗡 scents - honeysuckle and seedy taverns

🗡 gemstone - aquamarine (she's been wearing the caustic band ever since she found it, and refuses to take it off)

🗡 time of day - the afternoon, when everyone heads to the tavern

🗡 season - harvest season

🗡 places - tree houses, locked vaults, downtrodden taverns, aristocrat bedrooms (most of the time stealing things)

🗡 food - thick skinned grapes and Waterdhavian cheese shavings

🗡 drink - mead made from giant bees

🗡 element - air, she's so light on her feet, and strikes as fast as a hurricane

🗡 seasoning - sage and lemon (she always makes her iconic sour scrunch face, like all the time)

🗡 sky - dark storm clouds on the horizon

🗡 weather - the level of rainy that traps most people inside, but not her

🗡 magical power - will cross the room and stab you 3 times before you can blink, despite not using the weave

🗡 weapons - A rapier gifted to her by an old sea salt. Also known to use two daggers for maximum puncturing

🗡 sweets - muffins, especially with fruit and honey

🗡 method of travel - Barefoot 100%, it's the only method of travel where she feels like she's in control. She is quite fleet of foot afterall.

🗡 art style - Van Gogh sunflowers, not that she paints, but the vibrant yellow feels and big brushstrokes

🗡 fear - poverty ever since losing her parents

🗡 mythological creature - blue dragon, very tricksy and (hear me out) she's literally carrying around 116 pounds of gold. She can be quite cruel to those that have wronged her.

🗡 stationery item - a metal fountain pen that's sharp enough to cut.

🗡 3 emojis - 🤔👛🔓 (She seriously *always* looks confused. Sometimes it's just to deceive someone, but she's not all that smart)

🗡 celestial body - the rings of Jupiter, very faint but easily a destructive force

@grayembers if you find the time, I would love to hear about one of your BG3 chars! @ace-of-games would love to hear about your character too! (no pressure of course)

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

<- prev | next ->

Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 

Your head just about exploded when she said that. 

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?” 

“That his girlfriend died last year.” 

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 

“There’s nothing I need from you.” 

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea. 

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

*

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

-

-

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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[uselessidiotsquad]

OC Interview pt2 - With a Twist

Rather than the standard interview, I went with the characters to character one for introducing Toraedh!

Ruby: Hello!

???: Hello.

Ruby: So I'm to be interviewing you I think. I'm Ruby! I'm Commander of the Pact.

???: Yes, I am aware.

Ruby: Let's see then, introduce yourself please!

???: I mean I can but I'm not sure that it's really a good idea for either of us?

Ruby: In some deep brambles I take it?

???: Good observation but yes.

Ruby: Can I have an initial then or something to call you by that won't get you in trouble?

T: Just "T" would work, and thanks.

Ruby: You got it! That's gonna make this a strange interview. I don't usually recommend people lie about things but for this one if you need to go ahead.

T: (laughs) Okay, thanks for the permission, Ruby. What all can I say. I am sort of in a precarious place between projects. My calling requires me to be in the company of less than sterling individuals. I wanted to be a Mender before my current career path chose me.

Ruby: Why didn't go you for being a Mender?

T: I wasn't seen fondly by many of the mentors at the time of my Saplinghood. Any ideas I had were quickly dismissed and side-eyed.

Ruby: Did they tell you to be something else or did you get stuck with it? It was like that with me, I was supposed to be an instructor for fledgling Rangers but got stuck with Pact babysitting. Not complaining! Just you know - it's not teaching saplings.

T: Eh, not exactly. They took one look at my Dream and suddenly everyone got jittery around me. I've sort of had Dreamers against me for a while now. Most of them anyway. And you mean working to keep the single largest organized military force going isn't akin to telling a sapling the pointy end of the arrow goes away from them? Color me shocked.

Ruby: Well if it's any consolation, I'm not against you.

T: Thanks, Commander.

Ruby: No - it's Ruby! You're not in the Pact, none of this Commander business. What's your favorite food?

T: Oh that's a hard one. Chips and salsa are hard to beat.

Ruby: Good choice, good choice. I like to put mangos in my salsa but Riag fusses about it. Hot or mild?

T: Always spicy.

Ruby: Let's see what other questions do we have (she looks at a sticky note) ah here we are - if you can answer; what is an average day like for you?

T: That is a good question. It varies a lot, honestly. If I'm working on a project, it usually means gathering information on the Court I'm going to be infiltrating and trying to blend in as much as possible. On days where I'm not - it's sleep and be lazy as much as Sho will let me get away.

Ruby: Can I ask who Sho is?

T: You certainly can. She's my beloved and one of the nicest people you will ever meet. At times I think she's too kind - but that's just me, I'm a bit of a cynic. We share a Dream, for the most part, which hasn't earned favor for either of us. Her end of it was less detailed mine was very cut and dry for what it meant for me. ...I'm not sure where all I'd be without her at times. Ah, well, actually, I do know where I'd be but it's not for discussion among polite company.

Ruby: I wanted to ask about your Dream but am I right to gather it's a bit touchy?

T: You could say that.

Ruby: Fair enough! Is there anything else you'd like to share before I go back to trying to get a batch of muffins done?

T: Not that I can think of without potentially getting myself into a bind. Thank you for having me, it's been a treat, I don't usually manage to get more than a few words out before someone's prickly with me.

Ruby: Thanks for stopping by for a moment! You're welcome to drop by for a muffin or two whenever you have a moment.

[yourthemaster11-blog]

Welcome to Bri's Shipping Bonanza!

I'm a guy who likes many things, especially self-shipping! Typically, if it's a slightly sarcastic, but nevertheless supportive woman, she's my type! This blog is strictly SFW and thus is safe for anyone of any age. If I see any negativity, hatred or otherwise unacceptable behavior, you should become acquainted with the term "get out and don't come back"! My Stats: Name: Brian Age: 28 Birthday: August 18 Personality: ENTP 7w8 SO/SX

Location: Good ol' NJ of US and A!

Favorite things: Mexican food, green, rock music, science fiction, Fanta, roller coasters and most of all...FUN!

F/o List

Kim Wexler (Better Call Saul) - The Criminally Golden Couple Vanessa Kensington (Austin Powers) - International Duo of Mysytery Pomni (Digital Circus) - Clownin' Around Sarah Lynn (Bojack Horseman) - The Two Not So Prickly Mufffins Rainbow Dash (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic) - The Very 'Fly' Ones Peggy Hill (King of the Hill) - Our Shoes Fit Millie (Helluva Boss) - Devilishly Delicious Duo Barbie (Barbie 23') - Fantastic Plastic Pair

[fayeimara]

Sakusa Kiyoomi || Small Moments

SUMMARY. You're looking forward to the first date you and Sakusa have had in a little while thanks to both of your busy schedules when Kiyo seems reluctant to go.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x you

GENRE. Pure Fluff

WARNINGS. Potentially suggestive

Sunlight filters through the sheer curtains of your bedroom's bay windows, casting a glow over your eyelids just before you completely rouse from your sleep. Eyes still closed, as your awareness slowly slips in, your hand curls back in towards you, seeking the warmth emanating from the arm wrapped tight around your waist.

The unmistakable heat of your boyfriend becomes more prevalent, urging you to wiggle backwards ever so slightly and close the remaining gap between your bodies. Sliding your hand from its landed spot on Kiyoomi's toned forearm down to his hand to twine your finger with his, your eyes finally open to the rays and land on the rainbow pattern splayed on the white silk of your pillow.

Today you and Sakusa will be spending a long awaited day together, out on a classic date that you have both been denied in recent weeks thanks, in part, to each of your demanding schedules. Just as a lazy but delighted smile stretches your lips, you feel him stir behind you only to giggle as he leans his head to nuzzle into your neck with a light groan.

His hand shifts against you when you turn to face him, sliding just to help his arm keep its position around you as you move, and then you're looking into shadowed eyes that study you in return. He doesn't say anything for a minute, long enough to make you feel uncharacteristically shy and duck your head down into his chest, burrowing into what has long become your favourite place to hide in these small moments.

But it seems that's the spark which finally compels Kiyo to move his arm from his coveted spot around you, but only for a moment, as his fingers find your cheek and feather down to follow the curve of your jaw before tilting your head back up to face him. You don't provide any resistance, already reaching up with your face and hands, the latter seeking purchase in his soft locks as he places the lightest kiss against your wanting lips.

Both of you pulling away, Kiyoomi with a small smile and you with a flirty smirk, you bid each other good morning. Another one of those small moments you cherish, to be able to enjoy the constant familiarity of your boyfriend waking up next to you but this time during a rare, slow morning where you both can indulge in its indolence.

The moment passes seemingly as quickly as it swept in as restlessness soaks into your skin, compelling movement as you once again begin to contemplate your planned activities for your date with Kiyo today. You're looking forward to spending the day with him in the sun, having planned a spot for a picnic lunch before taking a stroll through the sprawling park. You also have reservations for the night at a special, upscale restaurant that will meet both his standards and yours, with a stunning view of the city laid out beneath you.

You pull away from Sakusa with another chaste kiss, even as he gently tries to persuade you to stay a little longer, and pad into the washroom to brush your teeth and wash up for the day. Eyeing Sakusa's features in the mirror as he follows you in, you don't address his hesitant but prickly demeanor, smiling at him brightly instead as you finish up before heading out through the room and halls and into your kitchen.

A pot of French press is prepared without thought, the motions an ingrained habit by now, as you pull out ingredients from the fridge to prepare the smoked salmon eggs benedict for your brunch. Setting up the mise en place, Kiyo is soon beside you to help with the hollandaise and eggs, nudging you out of the way with his hip until you give in and retreat from the stove.

Perching on the bar stools lined up with the kitchen island, you pour out the coffee into two mugs, doctoring each to your respective tastes before pushing his across the counter towards him with the tips of your fingers at its base.

You've barely exchanged more than whispered words of good morning but you're so attuned to him, you know there's something waiting at the tip of his tongue, a reluctance that's tangible to you due to years of picking up on his tells.

Sakusa stares into the pale yellow swirl of the sauce he's stirring as he debates how to bring up the thought on his mind. You've been looking forward to this day for weeks, he has as well, it's just that now it's finally arrived... he'd like nothing better than to follow the pace that seemed fated from the very start of your day together.

His schedule has been grueling and he wants nothing more to curl up with you at home and enjoy a lazy day indoors, not head out into the crush of the weekend crowd in uncontrolled environments where he'll likely be on constant guard. Here, everything is safe and comfortable, clean and devoid of all distractions but the woman he loves.

Low on energy and conflicted at the thought of being selfish by voicing his own desires, he decides to keep quiet and follow the activities you have planned for the two of you today. If nothing else, the breathtaking smile of joy that lights your face will be worth the compromise.

Turning away to the island to place the poached eggs on the English muffins, he can't help but glance your way to study your expression. He doesn't expect to meet your eyes, finding you watching him with a small, wry smile as you stand and lean forward to add the smoked salmon atop the eggs, so he freezes momentarily before turning back to exchange the items in his hand for the pot of hollandaise.

"Omi." Your voice breaks the easy, thoughtful silence permeating the kitchen as he spoons the sauce over the salmon and sprinkles a dusting of chives to finish the brunch you'd started. You only call him by that nickname when you're neutral, likely coaxing for information that you're sure he's withholding.

After another beat, his deep voice finally filters at its usual calm, steady volume, "Yes, sweetheart?"

He still doesn't meet your eyes and you resort to your most cajoling tone, softly and sweetly asking, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Brunch is ready?" His eyes lift to yours then, with a teasing glint and a slight smirk to match curving his lips.

"Hm."

He takes your plate and his to the breakfast table in its spacious nook, surrounded by windows on three sides that allow the warm sunlight to caress your skin as you follow to your seat with the coffees and cutlery.

The first bite melts in your mouth with perfect heat, the mix of flavours prompting you to close your eyes and hum in appreciation. When you open them again, you catch Kiyo with his fork paused on its ascent to his mouth, staring at you with widened eyes before blinking as if to unfreeze.

You let out an amused laugh when his own hum follows shortly after. It's a nice moment but-

"Kiyo-"

"I don't know where you picked this up as a favourite, but I'm so glad you did." Cutting in, he compliments your choice of meal between bites.

You can't help it when another smirk slides over your lips, "Well, I am a loyalist. I hold on tight when I find something I love.

You and Kiyo connect eyes yet again and share a sweet smile at your words in yet another small moment that exists just for the two of you.

The third time's the charm, clearly, because his deflections work and you drop the subject for the rest of your brunch. Considering the scarcity of the time you were able to steal away together these past weeks, your morning meal is soon filled with funny anecdotes that slipped between the cracks and thoughtful insights regarding the events of your friends and family that you both continue to be looped in on.

It's not until early afternoon, as you've slipped into a breezy summer outfit - complete with a flowing thigh-length dress, floppy hat, and strappy sandals, you find Sakusa slowly packing your purse with his small trove of sanitary supplies.

You lean against the door frame to study him as he moves so fluidly, elegant even in the sweats and shirt he still hasn't changed out of since his morning shower. Your plans for your date flicker through your thoughts for a moment, pulling at you with an intense mix of longing and excitement.

It's not as powerful as your new desire though, as you want more than anything to continue seeing Kiyoomi's smiles today. That's what you had in mind when you planned your date, to have him find joy and contentment with you in the quiet, private corners of your world.

Sakusa looks up behind him when he hears the bathroom door shut. He didn't realize you'd stepped out and wonders if you'd forgotten something. Finished with packing your purse with both his and your supplies, he moves to the closet to prepare his clothes for the outing when the door opens again and you exit with a smile on your face. But instead of the expected outfit for your date, you're wearing your most comfortable lounge clothes.

"What's wrong, love?" He moves towards you without hesitation, concern deepening his tone.

You raise an eyebrow and ask him with a soft smile still curving your lips, "You tell me, Kiyo."

Stopping with his hand cupping your cheek as he looks down to meet your warm, inviting gaze, he breathes out a low, "How did you know?"

"Oh, baby... I've told you never to hold back your true feelings." You softly admonish.

What if you hadn't picked up on enough of the right cues? What if you enjoyed a date that only made Kiyo miserable because he sacrificed his urge to honour the plans you'd made together for the day even though what he wanted had changed?

Sakusa feels a mix of guilt and relief like a hit to the gut as he realizes he only just confirmed your suspicions. What could he have done differently so you wouldn't have realized his change of heart? So you wouldn't have to be the one making the sacrifice instead?

"Kiyo.." Your voice calls him out of his thoughts and he catches the loving smile that hasn't left your face once since you exited from the bathroom.

"Baby.. You know what I'm thinking?" Your eyes sparkle with a new excitement, no- with a mischievous, playful intent.

"What?"

"I'm thinking we have a certain season to binge watch and some new video games to try. I'm thinking of how good the takeout was from the sushi restaurant that delivered to us last month. And I'm thinking today would be a perfect day to cuddle on the couch like we have nowhere to be and time is infinite in our little bubble."

Sakusa still hesitates, even though there's no doubting your genuine tone he still can't help but ask, "Are you sure, love?" "I'm absolutely certain."

Using the hand still resting gently on your cheek, he tilts your head as he leans down to drop a soft kiss to your lips. The two of you don't pull away until you're both breathless and unable to stop your mutual smiles from spilling onto your lips. This was it. This smile of his that you so badly wanted to draw out.

That's how you both end up spending the rest of the afternoon painting exactly the picture you envisioned. You bring another round of coffees to the couch as he selects the show you mentioned and, pulling one of the plush throws over your legs, you snuggle into his side to watch.

Over the course of the next couple hours, you two easily push and pull like magnets every time you readjust your positions, from the upright one where you're tucked into him to you both stretching out for you to lie down on him, his chest pillowing your head as his arm returns to its favourite place. When hunger begins to intrude in the late afternoon, you put together plates of both his and your favourite snacks, sitting back up to consume them as the sun begins to peek in through the windows on the opposite side of your house.

When you take a break from the TV, sitting at the table with your respective beverages of choice, you play one of your favourite board games with music from your shared playlist filtering in the background. The lights in the house are slowly turned on as you both move about, from the kitchen, to the living room, to the dining table in between, over the course of your unhurried hours.

By evening, you've started a puzzle together but leave it on the table unfinished when Sakusa still hasn't returned from the kitchen, going in search of him instead. When you find him washing the dishes that have begin to neatly stack on one side of the divided sink, you have him drop everything and clean his hands before tugging him away.

"No chores, Kiyo!"

"They're dirty."

"It's a lazy day." You give him a pout that he can't refuse and he's the one to give in here.

Instead, he whips the towel on the counter and, as the song just changes into a slow one you would have usually skipped, he grabs your hand to pull you into him. You don't resist at all, reaching around him to return the hug you think he's giving, but his other hand comes to rest on your waist and it's soon joined by the first. You're the one to find yourself frozen this time, hands having risen to rest on his chest by pure coincidence even before you fully realized Sakusa Kiyoomi is slow dancing with you in the kitchen.

"Wha-" You stop the question ready to drop from your lips when you meet his eyes. The answer is as obvious as the mirth mixed with something softer in his replying gaze.

He would only ever do this for you. Step out of his comfort zones in ways that would have been completely inconceivable before he met you. Before he spent the years he has with you. Before you made him realize making these small choices for the ones you love, to be able to share these small moments that he could never have previously dreamed, aren't actually a sacrifice after all.

It's likely not a long time the two of you spend dancing between the kitchen, dining room, and living room, but at least three songs have passed before he gently tilts you back onto the couch just as the doorbell rings to indicate the arrival of your dinner.

Leaving you to clear the space on the coffee table, Kiyo arranges the food into various plates that are then loaded onto a tray to be brought into the living room. So begins round two of your TV binge, picking up mid-season to finish the latter half of the show while you enjoy feeding each other. Another feat that would be impossible for him with anyone else but a true joy to be able to share with you.

You clean up after the two of you finish, leaving him to pick the next game. When you return to the couch and see he's picked your favourite, you can't help but challenge him with a smirk.

"Oh, baby, you know I'm going to ruin you. Are you sure you want to play this?"

His dark eyes meet yours and even though his expression is almost unreadable, his eyes express the same teasing light that soaks his tone, "Sweetheart... you've already ruined me."

You don't know whether to laugh or not because as much as he intends to tease there's definitely truth there, but also a benediction that conveys what he truly means.

So you respond instead by adding your truth to his, "We've ruined each other, haven't we?"

"Only in the best ways, love."

Holding his warm gaze for another small moment, you bite your lip to hold back the wide delighted smile that threatens to spill out before he reaches for your wrist to finally tug you down to him. You end up sprawled on his lap but fix your position when he hands you the second controller.

Soon after the game starts, neither of you can say who poked whom first or nudged the other's elbow, or even who was the first to boldly tickle the other in order to gain advantage in the game. You're laughing as he pulls you onto his lap, arms coming around you to restrain your own movements as you call out to the unfairness of his tactic.

Throwing your weight back on him to push him deeper into the soft cushions of the couch, you strain to reach his neck with sloppy kisses and little love bites, your only counter to his cheating measures. Neither you nor Sakusa end up winning the game when your endeavour succeeds in pulling his attention from the screen to your sparkling eyes and that perfect smile he so desired to see.

This time, when you kiss, it's before either of you have even thought of or committed to the action, so naturally do your lips simply meet between you.

The remainder of the night is marked by these simple, lazy exchanges of your love. The TV eventually falling to rest and allowing the music still crooning in the background to create its hazy ambience yet again.

The last thing you remember as you lie entwined with Kiyo on your living room couch, exploring each other with kisses and caresses, intimate gazes and whispered words, is the final small moment of the day. A small kiss just behind your ear preceding the three little words that he faithfully declares every day since the first time they fell from his lips.

"I love you."

A/N: Sorry for kind of tricking you @yourstarvic! I know you requested either date or lazy day and I thought.. what if I wrote you and Sakusa on a date and then enjoying a lazy Sunday following? Then, I thought... what if you didn't get the date you expected but the lazy day was all the more special for it? Slightly inspired by mine and my bf's lazy days that we've never let each other regret therefore not completely original but they say write what you know lol so I hope you like it! And because you have a special place in my heart as my very first scenario request ever, I have a little surprise for you here :) <3

© 2021 fayeimara. All rights reserved. Please do not repost, modify, or claim as yours.

[yourthemaster11-blog]

We'd both say: "IT'LL BE DANG SOON!" proudly

Imagine accidentally calling your f/o your spouse/wife/husband when you haven’t reached marriage stage yet. Alternatively, imagine it switched. How do you both react?

[thnxforknowingme]

The Feeling's Plain to Me (5/14)

Summary: Ficlets set in the same ‘verse as It’s Who I’m With. What did Kurt and Blaine get up to in between Christmas and St. Patrick’s Day? (for the Klaine/CC Valentine's Challenge 2022)

Rating: T

Read previous parts | Read on AO3

5: A Kiss to Build a Dream On - Louis Armstrong

January 14

“No, no no no,” Mr. Krenkovich tugged at his mustache in annoyance. “This won’t do at all. Why on earth is Stravinsky here?”

Blaine looked up from his laptop to where Mr. Krenkovich was holding up a piece of sheet music. He cleared his throat and said, “I arranged those shelves of music alphabetically like you asked, sir.”

Krenkovich clicked his tongue. “Not Stravinsky. I want separate files for any composers of note that I regularly need to reference. I don’t want him thrown in here with other random things. Do you understand?”

Blaine forced a smile. “I understand, sir.”

Most of the time, Blaine liked his job well enough - he got to do interesting things surrounded by talented people, and he’d always been good at multitasking and managing a busy schedule. But then there were days when his employer was particularly prickly. Blaine had taken to internally referring to him as Crankovich when he was in these moods.

Today, though, Blaine’s blood didn’t simmer in frustration, and Krenkovich’s disapproval rolled off him like water. Nothing, today, could break his good mood.

He’d gone over to Kurt’s the previous night. They’d been alone when he arrived, both Santana and Rachel working. After dinner they’d put on a movie and cuddled on the couch. Blaine hadn’t realized how tired he was until he was lying there, warm against Kurt’s chest, full and comfortable and happy. He knew he was pushing his limits in staying for the movie - his apartment was at least an hour away, and it was a weeknight - but he couldn’t bring himself to end their date night at a responsible time.

Then, the next thing he knew, he was blinking awake as Kurt shifted beneath him. Santana was standing over them, her hair tied back and eye makeup smudged. “God, you two are disgustingly cute,” she sneered.

“Hi, Santana,” Blaine mumbled, sitting up so Kurt could get out from under him. The TV showed the static image of the movie’s opening shot - it must have played all the way through while Blaine had dozed off.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He asked Kurt.

“I fell asleep, too,” Kurt admitted, rubbing at the corner of his eye. “What time is it?”

“Twelve-thirty,” Santana said, turning as she headed for her own room.

Blaine scrubbed at his face, feeling fatigued. “I can’t believe we slept for so long,” he said. “God, getting home isn’t going to be fun.”

He looked up to see Kurt staring at him - something about both of their drowsiness made the edges of his face seem softer. Kurt parted his lips, hesitated, and then said, “you could stay over.”

“Really?” Blaine asked. They’d already spent plenty of evenings at each other’s apartments, but they always ended up in their own beds at the end of the night.

Kurt nodded. “Yeah. If you want to. I don’t want to send you out into the cold, scary city this late.”

Blaine ducked his head and smiled. “I’d love to.”

So he borrowed pajamas from Kurt, used his mouthwash, and for the second time that night, he got to fall asleep in Kurt’s arms.

The next morning he’d scrambled to get ready for work, doing his best with a wet comb and Kurt’s products to make his hair presentable, borrowing a button-down from Kurt that didn’t fit him quite right. Kurt, still pajama’d and sleep-heavy, had sent him out the door with a poppyseed muffin and a soft kiss.

It was that kiss that Blaine focused on now, as he listened to Krenkovich’s demands regarding his music library and helped him find the piece he needed for a gala next month. The memory of Kurt’s lips and everything that a good morning kiss meant sustained Blaine through the scheduling conflict he had to remedy that afternoon, pacing as he waited on hold for receptionists and negotiated with other personal assistants. He thrilled in the fact that even though he was a little more rumpled and sleep-deprived than he liked to be on a work day, he smelled like Kurt’s laundry detergent and mousse.

Blaine had always thrown himself headfirst into everything he did, including romance. And while he knew that Kurt could appreciate a grand romantic gesture - if his a cappella serenade and the number of romantic movies they’d watched together was any indication - he was learning just how profound the smaller moments of intimacy could be. The trust necessary to fall asleep together, the privilege of staying the night, the quiet joy of being sent into the hectic and tedious world with a warm, affectionate kiss. Those fond feelings could carry him through whatever inconvenience his boss threw his way.

[theyrejustboys]

Written for @tma-valentines-exchange

For @voiceless-terror, who requested fluff and pre-canon JonTim. I hope you enjoy it!

Read it on AO3 or under the cut!

Content Warnings: drinking, alcohol

Summary: Tim half expects Jon to be embarrassed, but he just blinks up at him, still apparently in the dazed, barely conscious state of waking. Then he stretches, arms reaching over his head and back arching slightly. He makes an honest to goodness squeak as he does. Exactly like a little cat. Tim wants to kiss him.

Oh. Tim wants to kiss him.

So it hadn’t just been the alcohol last night, then.

The first thing that Tim becomes aware of as he’s pulled unwillingly from slumber is the gentle weight pressing down on his legs. The second is the cold hand resting lightly on the strip of bare skin where his t-shirt has risen up in the night. He stirs reluctantly. When he finally opens his eyes, his bedroom is blurry, and he has to blink a few times to clear his vision and his head as the world forms in pieces around him. There’s a low thrumming in his skull that bears the potential of a fully fledged headache if not dealt with swiftly. Perhaps that’s why it takes him another few moments for the implications of the small body snuggled against him to set in.

He can’t see the face of the person in bed with him, not without turning and risking waking them up, but his memories from last night are pouring in too quickly to leave him with any doubt.

---

“Shame Sasha couldn’t make it,” Tim said, sliding into the booth across from Jon.

Jon nodded as he shrugged out of his corduroy jacket. “She’ll be missed,” he said, and if Tim hadn’t spent so long studying his facial expressions across his desk, he might not have noticed the slight upward quirk of his mouth.

“The first round shall be in her honor,” Tim said with only half Jon’s solemnity, lifting a hand to catch the waiter’s attention.

Jon let him order for the both of them, seemingly content to sit back and glance around the pub while Tim spoke. It was a quiet, if kitschy, little place, and Tim had chosen it strategically for that reason. He might not mind the atmosphere in some of London’s more crowded bars, but it had only taken one outing with Jon to realize how desperately uncomfortable that sort of chaos made him. He seemed appreciative of the location tonight, even gracing Tim with a reserved smile once the waiter had disappeared. Tim wanted to take that smile and store it in a treasure chest with all the other beautiful things Jon had offered him throughout their slow-blooming friendship. He smiled back.

“So, that case you were working on this week. Did you ever get past the hurdle with the widow?”

Jon leaned forward eagerly to explain his findings. Tim settled in to listen.

---

It’s Jon. Jon had come home with him. They’d both been too drunk to deal with the hassle of bundling Jon into a taxi, especially when Tim lived only two blocks behind the warm little pub they’d spent their Friday night in. It was convenient.

And now Tim is in bed with Jonathan Sims. Not just in bed, either - Jon is practically on top of him, with one leg slung over both of his own and the hand not resting against Tim’s hip nestled beneath the pillow Tim is lying on. If Tim is very still, he can feel the soft puff of Jon’s breath against his neck.

He resists the urge to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He’d suspected before last night that Jon was more tactile than he let on, but he hadn’t imagined he’d be this clingy.

He understands, of course, that Jon doesn’t feel safe often, that others have not allowed him the time to be cautious with his affection. It’s no secret in the research office that his snippiness and chronically furrowed brows have won him few friends. It’s taken Tim months of steady, gentle friendliness to break through Jon’s carefully prickly exterior into the softness he’d seen hiding beneath. It feels, in a way, like reaching a new level of a video game - once he’d gotten past the grouchiness, the wariness, and then the bashfulness, he’d unlocked the awkward but horribly endearing kindness. And cuddles, apparently.

It’s worth being patient for, worth earning. Tim’s chest feels tight with the weight of his fondness. He wants to pull Jon into his arms and hold him close like he had in the pub last night.

Before Tim can move, however, there's a mumble near his ear as he feels Jon shift. The leg draped over his own slides down. He hears a soft yawn, and then, before he can process that, Jon is rubbing his face into the back of Tim's shirt like a sleepy little cat. Tim grins and faces him.

"Good morning," he says.

Tim half expects Jon to be embarrassed, but he just blinks up at him, still apparently in the dazed, barely conscious state of waking. Then he stretches, arms reaching over his head and back arching slightly. He makes an honest to goodness squeak as he does. Exactly like a little cat.

Tim wants to kiss him.

Oh. Tim wants to kiss him.

So it hadn’t just been the alcohol last night, then.

Jon peers at him, apparently roused to alertness by whatever expression has taken over Tim’s face. "What?"

"Rest well?" Tim says in lieu of a response, because if he dwells on this development any longer he might do something foolish, like brush a hand through the wild mess of dark curls spread across both the pillow he had offered Jon last night and Tim’s own pillow.

"Yes," Jon says.

Ah, there's a touch of the primness Tim loves. “Glad to hear it,” he says, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll take the bathroom first, if you don’t mind.”

He thinks Jon burrows deeper into the blankets as he leaves the room.

Across the hallway, Tim stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror. His heart is beating a little too quickly. "Keep it cool, Timothy," he warns himself. Then he splashes some water on his face and knocks back a couple of ibuprofen tablets before he brushes his teeth. "All yours," he calls into the bedroom when he finishes. Jon makes an unintelligible noise in response, and Tim huffs out a soft, breathless laugh as he crosses the flat toward his kitchen.

---

“... but my landlord is utterly heartless,” Jon concluded, looking rather dejected as he finished off his third pint. “He wouldn’t budge on the no pets rule, even for the Captain.”

Tim made a quiet, sympathetic noise, handing back Jon’s mobile after having admired the extraordinarily fluffy cat on the shelter’s front page for an appropriate length of time. “I would have,” he vowed. “For the Captain. Anything for him.”

Jon’s eyes shone briefly, and Tim wondered if he was going to cry. He just sniffed with marginally less dignity than usual and accepted the mobile. “Yes, well,” he said after taking a beat to gather himself. “You’re nice. Of course you would.”

“You think I’m nice?” Tim grinned, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hand.

“Yes,” Jon said simply.

“Careful, Jon, if you keep up this sweetness I’ll have no choice but to hug you.” Tim was only half-joking.

Jon ducked his head and mumbled, “Well. You could.”

“What?” For a moment, Tim thought he’d misunderstood.

“I said you could.” Jon didn’t look up at him. “If you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.”

Tim could feel his cheeks begin to ache from the force of his smile. He stood quickly and slid into the opposite side of the booth. Jon didn’t pull away as he moved closer, only sat looking at him expectantly from the corner of his eye. “Bring it in, then,” Tim said, and he draped one arm around Jon’s narrow shoulders.

Jon sat stiff and awkward at first contact, but then he melted against him. He rested his head in the crook beneath Tim’s collarbone, sighing so softly Tim could barely hear it over the quiet clatter of the pub. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Tim asked. His voice came out a bit strangled from the sudden warm pressure in his chest.

“For being a nice person,” Jon said with a trace of his familiar exasperation but none of the spikiness. As if it were obvious, as if Tim could see it if only he paid attention.

Tim had been paying attention for a while now. He thought he understood what Jon meant. “Of course,” he said. He didn’t pull away. Neither did Jon.

---

He’s measuring out flour into a glass bowl when he hears Jon pad into the kitchen, and for one exhilarating second Tim wonders if he’s going to hug him from behind. He doesn’t. Tim lingers over the bowl for a few breaths more, then turns to face him. “I’m making muffins,” he announces.

Jon looks surprised. “You bake?”

Tim is momentarily distracted by the way Jon’s hair is piled on top of his head, wrangled into what might generously be called a bun. There are strands hanging around his cheekbones that Tim desperately wants to tuck behind his ears. He clears his throat and tosses a grin over his shoulder as he faces his mixing bowl again. “Why Jon, did you not notice the stupendous cakes I’ve brought to every office party this year? Of course I bake.”

“Oh,” Jon says. “I don’t usually stick around those long enough to eat anything.”

“You will once you’ve had a taste of my baking skills,” Tim promises. “These are going to be the best muffins you’ve tasted in your life.”

“My expectations are high,” Jon says in his dry voice. Months ago, Tim might have thought he was mocking him, but now he recognizes it for the friendly teasing it is. It makes something warm and lofty expand in his chest. Then, a moment later Jon asks, “Can I help?”

Tim opens his mouth to say no, that he’s a guest and should sit down and relax while Tim takes care of everything. He glances over again as Jon steps closer, fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie. It’s too long, dangling a few centimeters past his fingertips.

It’s Tim’s hoodie, he realizes with a start. His mouth shuts with a click. He wants to stare at Jon. He wants to turn his face away in case his adoration is too obvious. He still wants to kiss him.

Jon just watches him, picking restlessly at the fabric. He almost looks hopeful. Oh.

Tim gestures with his head toward the fruit basket on the countertop. “Dice an apple for me?”

“Sure.” Tim can hear the smile in his voice.

They work quietly for a few minutes, the only noise coming from the soft click of Jon’s knife against the cutting board and the muted sound of Tim’s whisk in the bowl. Once the fruit is mixed in with the batter, Jon watches as Tim carefully measures equal portions into his muffin tin and slides them into his oven. Tim has a sudden urge to turn on some music, to see if Jon might let him wrap his arms around him and spin him beneath the dim kitchen light.

“How much do you remember from last night?” Jon asks before he can.

Tim leans against the countertop. “Everything,” he says. Then he hesitates. “I think,” he adds nervously. “We weren’t that drunk, were we? Why do you ask?” He would have remembered if he’d -

Jon crosses the floor to the little table in Tim’s entryway. He has a habit of dropping his things there when he walks inside each evening, keys, wallet, and whatever else has accumulated in his pockets throughout the day. Jon rummages in the clutter before waving a short, shiny strip of paper triumphantly.

“Oh,” Tim says. No, he hadn’t forgotten that at all. “Right.”

---

Jon was the one who had pointed out the photo booth. Tim knew it was there - he’d spent a couple of tipsy evenings in it before. The last time had been with Danny. Maybe that memory was the reason he hadn’t brought it up to Jon. Maybe it was just that he didn’t think Jon was the sort to relax enough to enjoy something as trivial and objectively silly as a photo booth.

But Jon herded him away from their table and into the little box at the back of the pub with the same determination he directed toward his work, drawing the black curtain closed as Tim fiddled with the buttons. It smelled vaguely of wine inside. Jon didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve never done this before,” Jon confessed. He’d had enough drinks by now that there was an airy quality to his voice. He suppressed a yawn. “But I’ve always wanted to.”

“Really?”

Jon nodded. “Never had anyone to do it with,” he said, sounding almost ashamed.

Tim decided not to point out that wasn’t the part he’d been surprised about. “You have me,” he said, settling back as the countdown began for the first photo.

Jon stared at the camera, head tilted slightly as he arranged a smile on his face. “Yes,” he said, then jumped at the flash. The countdown began again. Jon moved closer to Tim, brushing their arms together. “I do have you. I’m glad for that.”

Tim faltered, turning from the camera to look at Jon. Jon glanced up at him, and the careful smile on his face faded to something softer, gentler. Tim’s breath hitched. He’d like to kiss Jon like this, he realized, when he’s open and vulnerable and trusting. He leaned down slightly, suddenly breathless as he lifted a hand to cup Jon’s cheek. “Jon -”

The second camera flash made them both flinch hard, and Jon let out a startled noise that was almost a laugh, hiding his face in the collar of Tim’s shirt as if embarrassed. Tim laughed too, though he could barely hear himself over the pounding in his ears. He let his hand slide around the back of Jon’s head, cradling him, as if that was what he’d meant to do all along. He wondered if Jon could feel his heart thudding against his chest.

Before the last flash lit up the booth, Tim closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into Jon’s hair.

---

“I told you, you’re adorable,” Tim crows.

Jon splutters again, looking down at the photos in his hand in disbelief. “I’m an adult,” he says petulantly. “I can’t be adorable.”

Tim gasps, affronted. “Jonathan Sims! Are you putting an age limit on adorableness ? Please tell me you aren’t suggesting that I can’t be adorable.”

“I didn’t say that,” Jon grumbles.

“Good. I didn’t want to fight for my honor before breakfast.” Tim smirks at him and hopes the teasing is enough to distract from the painfully obvious yearning in his eyes on the strip of photo paper. His hand itches to take it from Jon, to cover up what feels practically like a confession, but he forces himself to be reasonable.

His oven timer beeps, drawing him from his nervous thoughts, and he busies himself tending to the muffins. Mercifully, Jon sets the photo strip aside to rummage in Tim’s cabinets for a pair of plates.

They migrate to the couch and eat quietly. Jon admits that Tim’s baking skills are rather spectacular, and Tim preens a normal amount. He wants to hug Jon again, but he resists. Whatever ease with which Jon had touched Tim the night before seems to have faded. His posture seems a bit stiffer, and he keeps his hands tucked closely in his lap, though Tim does catch him casting contemplative glances his way when he thinks he isn’t looking. He wonders how long it’s been since Jon has received affection.

Jon should receive affection always, Tim thinks, and should be held gently at each opportunity. He hopes he’s given another opportunity to hold Jon soon. He doesn’t push for it, though, doesn’t want to make Jon uncomfortable. He’s waited months to earn the trust he’s been allowed so far; he can be patient again.

“Tim,” Jon says after they’ve sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Yes?” Tim gives him an encouraging smile.

“I’ve - I’ve had a lovely time.” Jon doesn’t meet his eyes.

“That’s the Stoker guarantee,” Tim says with a smirk, though his chest twinges uncomfortably. There’s a but in there.

Jon takes a deep breath. “Yes. Well. Thank you. And - that is, I wanted to say…” He pauses. Opens his mouth and shuts it again.

That feeling in Tim’s chest is sinking lower. He waits.

Jon shifts abruptly, turning to fully face him on the couch. “Tim,” he says.

“Jon,” Tim answers quietly.

And then Jon surges forward and presses a chaste kiss into Tim’s jaw.

"Oh," Tim says. His hand flies up to touch his face.

Jon scrambles backward, blushing deeply. “Yes. Well,” he says again. “That’s all. Sorry, I should have -”

“Jon,” Tim says, “can I hug you?”

Jon makes another one of his soft little squeaks and nods wordlessly before tumbling forward into Tim’s arms. After a moment, he curls himself up smaller, wiggling onto Tim’s lap so as to better cling to him. Tim, very carefully, does not move except to tighten his hold on him.

“If you’re amenable,” Jon finally says, voice muffled in Tim’s shirt, “I would like to do this again sometime.”

Tim stifles a laugh. “And by this, you mean…?”

Jon sits up slightly, though he pouts a bit as he does. “Drinks? Dinner? And then cuddles. And I would like you to hug me again as soon as possible.”

“I don’t have to stop hugging you,” Tim points out. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay right here -” He pats his lap for emphasis. “For as long as you like.”

“You don’t mind?” Jon asks, peering up at him.

“Do I need to convince you how much I like hugging you?”

Jon considers. “No. But you could demonstrate anyway.”

Tim does.

[pressedinthepages]

Family Business

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: Another day, another collab with Maragret @sometimesiwrite cause we just cannot stop. And this one will have cHaPtErS!!!!!!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Modern Coffee Shop AU. Eskel and his brothers run a coffee shop. Jaskier pops in one morning. Neither can anticipate what is to come.

The bell above the door of Happy Goat Coffee and Snacks tinkled quaintly as Eskel returned from the corner store, carton of almond milk in-hand. He slipped the receipt into the till and opened the milk fridge, taking stock to see if there was anything else that couldn’t wait for Wednesday’s delivery. All seemed to be in order—Barista Blend soy and oat milks, a few bags of regular milk. He didn’t like carrying almond (bad for bees), but it was the only thing some customers could drink so… here it was. 

He turned to make himself another coffee, taking stock of their baked goods: chocolate zucchini muffins, banana bread, blueberry muffins (a few missing, Geralt’s been here…), and an assortment of granola-based snacks. The overall business plan was plant-based and/or sustainably sourced in the hopes of filling a void left by the larger chains that were the only other options in the neighbourhood. It wasn’t a bad plan, and with the increasing number of conscious-consumer parents, they were establishing a strong and loyal customer base.

    Lambert carried a tray of sourdough paninis around the counter and began transferring them into the display case, arranging them as neatly as his energetic hands would allow. It had been hell working with him for the first little bit. Lambert took after their sainted mother only in being a morning person. His general pissy attitude skipped a generation and came directly from their grandmother. But the prickly bastard knew what he was talking about, and after some… heated negotiations, they managed to agree on finding a local butcher who could provide pork belly which Lambert would turn into proper bacon in the back. They barely had the space, but he somehow made it work, and it sold very well as an add-on. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. It did taste better.

    Of course, this didn’t stop the young brother’s grumbling. He simply did it while chewing. “Lambert, could you please, please, stop eating the bacon?”

    “I’m sorry, I must be doing this wrong. Do I look like I give a fuck???”

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m doing it for you. Just...” he sighed “don’t eat us into bankruptcy.”

“What, so Geralt can drink all the fuckin organic ass lemonade he wants but I can’t have a piece of gods-be-damned bacon???”

“Geralt drinks the—oh my God you guys are killing me—look, I will talk to Geralt about the lemonade, you can have some, some bacon, and I’m going to try my hardest not to put my head through the fucking wall. Capiche?”

Lambert watched over Eskel’s shoulder as Geralt chugged the remainder of the lemonade from his cup through narrowed eyes in his direction.

“Fine.” Lambert growled, turning back to the kitchen. “You’ve got a fucking customer, by the way, boss.”

“Don’t call—oh never mind. Hello, sorry, welcome to the Exasperated Goat. I’ve changed the name.”

“I love it,” the young man on the other side of the counter crooned, cocking his hip with a smile. “Think it’ll really capture the true essence of the neighbourhood.” Eskel was struck dumb immediately, his words falling flat on his tongue. He was trapped in a pair of dazzling blue eyes and the brightest, most open face he’d seen in a—well, a depressingly long time, if he was honest. The young man was eccentrically stylish with bright splashy colours and patterns that had no business going together as well as they did. 

Eskel wasn’t the only one transfixed. His vivacious new customer was too busy marvelling at something inexplicable behind the proprietor’s hazel-green eyes and his… aura? Was that even a thing? How long have I been standing here? Oh God, am I staring? Shit. 

Geralt swaggered behind the counter and bumped into Eskel's shoulder pointedly.

“What can I get you?” He fumbled, working hard to regain his senses.

The young man recovered more smoothly, “Cappuccino, dry please. And a chocolate zucchini muffin. Please,” he added with a cheeky grin, holding out a twenty.

Eskel took the money and their fingers brushed, just the tiniest bit—was that a linger?—but he felt the sparks fly under his skin nonetheless, and as he got to work steaming milk, he desperately tried to remember how small talk worked. The young man beat him to it. 

“How’s the morning so far?”

Eskel sighed, glancing up at him. “Not...terrible,” he said, peering over his shoulder to find Lambert now munching on a mini quiche. “Lambert keeps eating the merchandise, but I suppose it could be worse.” 

Eskel was caught up in the man’s smile again until the rapidly rising temperature of the milk that brought him back to himself. He tapped the pitcher to settle the foam and wiped the steam wand, “How’s your day been...?”

“Can’t complain,” the man shrugged, taking a sizeable bite out of the side of his muffin—an act that Lambert would have seen as a criminal offense. Eskel disguised an amused grimace. “Had a gig last night, decent turnout. One or two people I didn’t know actually showed up on purpose.” Eskel knocked a portafilter empty, cleaning it with a well-practiced twist of the wrist. The man’s eyes drifted to the espresso-stained microfibre cloth that was currently being handled so expertly and found his mind wandering, jarred back to reality as the grinder kicked on. He jumped a little. 

“Ah, you’re a musician, then?” Eskel asked over the noise.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he took in the breadth of Eskel’s shoulders. “I like telling stories,” he called back.

“Ah, you write your own stuff, then.” Eskel knocked the edge of the portafilter against the palm of his hand to settle the espresso and Jaskier was lost again, watching large, graceful hands working with strength and precision, all in the name of a decent cup of coffee. Eskel looked at his mesmerized conversation companion, “Or do you prefer to cover?” 

“Hm? Oh, well, a bit of both. I like to cover because it gives people a sense of familiarity, like they can trust you with their evening. It sets the tone. Then I do my own stuff once I’ve got them on my side.”

Eskel cut the shot as the rich caramel colour of the dark espresso began to run lighter, and he gave it a sniff, ensuring the extraction was good before pouring in a little milk, and dolling out large quantities of foam. He passed the drink to the young man. “Extra dry.”

“Ah, my hero,” the young man wrapped his hands around the cup and brought it to his lips. “Mmm, delicious as always.” 

“Always?” Eskel asked, tearing his eyes away from the young musician’s long, slender fingers. “Y-you’ve been in here? I don’t—I’d’ve thought I’d remember you.” 

“Mhm, I usually pop in in the afternoons though, it’s typically Geralt over there who’s working.” He waggled his fingers over Eskel’s shoulder and he heard Geralt grunt in acknowledgment.

“Ah, yes. He takes over from me so I can go home and sleep. Well, rather forces me to. It’s hard to remember there’s a home when you spend most of your time at your own business. You hear people talk about self-care? Mine’s Geralt.”

And the young man, who Eskel thought was incapable of being any more charming, laughed so brightly and earnestly that Eskel could’t stop the grin that spread to his own face—not that he’d’ve wanted to. 

"I suppose that's what partners are for, isn't it?" he said flippantly, adding a dash of nutmeg to the foam in his cup and stirring in a little honey. 

"Pardon?" 

"To remind you there's something other than work, you know, house and family and—" 

"Oh, uh, no—business partner. Geralt's just a—well not just. He's my brother." 

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I just assumed... You know, urban cafe, tasteful decore, and then you mentioned he’s your self-care. Most people aren't that close with their siblings is all." 

Eskel nodded, "Our other brother's in charge of the kitchen. It's... a long story, but, here we are!" 

Eskel watched as the young man took a deep breath through his nose, seemingly steeling himself. He was then met with those striking eyes again as a napkin was slid across the counter, just barely brushing his fingertips. “In that case...would you like to get dinner sometime?”

"I—what?" Eskel shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. 

The young man smiled again,"It's alright. I'm just giving you a napkin with my number on it. You can use it to communicate with me. You know, texting? Call me? Maybe eat some food?" 

"But I—I don't understand, why?" 

The young man playfully rolled his eyes, "If you're not interested, you can just say so."

“No! No, I absolutely am, I’m ju-“ Eskel stammered, trying desperately to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth and driving the young man away,“I’m just not sure why you are.”

The young man just laughed brightly, his blue eyes flashing beneath dark lashes, "Because you're handsome, hard-working, and the way we've connected just now gives me a hunch. Besides, how long has it been since you had a chance to get away and go to dinner with someone?" 

Eskel eyed his customer, thought for a moment, and tapped the napkin before picking it up. "Walk first, then dinner. I hate starting dates like a third-degree."

The young man set down his coffee and held out his hand, beckoning to Eskel over the counter. As he came around, he offered his hand in return, and was shocked by the—could he call it intimacy?—of the musician’s hand gently closing around his. It may as well have been an embrace. “I-“ and of course his voice cracked. Eskel cleared his throat with a chuckle, finding those beautiful baby blues once more. “I’m Eskel.”

"Julian. Stage name is Jaskier. You can call me either, it doesn't really matter." 

Eskel smiled warmly, "It's nice to meet you, Julian." 

"Likewise, Eskel. I, uh, I should get going. But. Text me, we'll make plans."

Eskel watched as Julian left, his stride long and confident. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring into empty space, but at some point Geralt once again appeared to nudge against his shoulder. “Better save that napkin, brother.”

Eskel nodded at the flimsy paper in his hand, looking at the digits like they were an ancient cipher that needed decoding. "Better yet..." Geralt said, surreptitiously grabbing Eskel's phone from off the counter, unlocking it, and texting, Hope you have a good day.

"Here you go," Geralt said, handing the phone back to Eskel before pouring himself a drip.

Eskel’s stomach simultaneously lept into his throat and fell onto the floor. “Geralt,” he breathed, watching the *read* message pop up, “well now what? By the way,” Eskel suddenly turned, wagging his finger at the end of Geralt’s nose, “quit drinking all of the merchandise!”

“First off, now he can actually text you back instead of waiting to hear from you all day, which is exactly what would happen if left to your own devices. Secondly... Lambert said he wouldn’t tell you.” 

Eskel shook his head, mouth agape, “Unbelievable.”

Eskel’s fingers itched as he continued about his morning business, his phone silent in his pocket. He had nearly given it up as a lost cause when it finally chimed, and then he almost sent the phone flying across the store in his haste. 

So sorry for the late reply, Eskel. I was on the metro and then I had to run off downtown and then, alas, my phone died. I should really get one of those portable battery things. Ah well. Thank you for the well wishes!! It really brightened my day once I finally got them 😍😍😍

Eskel exhaled deeply. Okay, this was okay, this was good. He typed and deleted. Retyped. Deleted. Geralt reappeared over his shoulder, glancing at the text no worries, wanted to make sure you had my number. Geralt shook his head and took a sip of coffee before grabbing Eskel’s phone and typing, no worries, glad you got it sorted. Hope the metro wasn’t too much of a disaster. Geralt handed Eskel his phone to peruse the message.

“When did you get good at texting?” Eskel murmured as he pressed ‘send.’ Geralt merely shrugged as he ambled away, clearly in search of something to snack on as he finished inventory and ordering. Eskel called over his shoulder, “Would you please make more lemonade since you drank it all?!?!” 

As Geralt’s hum in the affirmative hit his ears so did the chime of his phone.

Not bad at all! Only one shouty person, and he didn't even hurl obscenities after me :D Although a mother with a very large stroller gave me a rather impressive side-eye as I sat down with my guitar tucked between my feet and mumbled something about manspreading. Some days it's the little things that get you through 🙃

Eskel replied, That sounds about right for 2 in the afternoon. Too bad you didn't see the Singing Man, he'll really give your day a kick you didn't know it needed.

You know what would give my day a good kick? A lovely walk with a lovely man ;) 

And Eskel blushed. Full on blushed. Lambert snorted from where he hovered in the doorway. 

“Go on, lover boy,” Lambert smirked, taking a bite out of another goddam slice of bacon. “We’ve got it covered.”

He rubbed his face. It was hard to think straight. He'd been up since 4:30, and part of him just wanted to go home and sleep, but it was also the first sunny day they'd seen in what felt like over a month, and the idea of a nice walk with some light conversation wasn't unappealing in the least. He frowned at Lambert, "How do you even know it's him that texted?" 

"Because you just turned three shades of pink and stared at your phone like it's a piece of alien technology." 

Eskel grumbled and turned back to his phone. Would be nice to get some company and fresh air. What part of town are you in? Meet in the middle?

Meanwhile, Julian was on the metro. Again. His leg bounced where he was sitting, reading the same paragraph of some random book over and over again. He knew it was a long shot coming all the way back to the coffee shop—Eskel might be done for the day and gone home or out doing shopping or—but it could be worth it. He lept off at his stop and bounded up the stairs, and his phone dinged with a delayed notification. He smiled at his phone and stowed it away, walking as fast as he possibly could until he saw the familiar sign of the coffee shop. Julian slowed down so that he didn’t cross the line from ‘windswept’ into ‘desperate’ and peered into the little window. He spotted Eskel immediately, his back to the door and speaking with another man behind the counter, presumably Lambert. Julian smiled and pushed open the door.

"Whoa-ho-ho, Pretty Boy at twelve o'clock." 

Eskel looked up from Jaskier's Spotify account and quickly closed his phone. "I suggested halfway, I hope you didn't come all the way across town."

Now it was Julian’s turn to stammer a bit, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth as his eyes swept across Eskel’s form. Since this morning, it had clearly been a busy day. His cheeks were flushed and his hair curling at the nape of his neck, and he had even caught a glimpse of luscious chest hair peeking out from the sharp v-neck that pulled across his chest. “I-“ Julian grinned to himself, come on, keep it together, “I was already on the metro when you texted back, so I figured I’d just...come here!”

Eskel narrowed his eyes and hummed. "Want a drink before we head out?" 

"Oh sure, we can't eat the merchandise but you can give away free drinks to anyone who flirts with you?" 

"I—You—would you just..." 

Jaskier cut in, "I think you'll find that actually exactly how it works. Bit of an unspoken code. People have started taking advantage of it to get free coffee, though. Makes it hard for those of us who mean it..." Julian's eyes met Eskel's for a lingering second and Eskel had to remind himself to breathe. "London Fog, please, Eskel. But I'm happy to pay. I know tea is less expendable." 

"Hm. See, Lambert? It's a barista thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes as Eskel steeped the Earl Gray in a bit of hot water, added vanilla, and steamed some milk. He carefully slid the finished beverage over the counter, one of his hands finding the tie at the back of his apron. “So...” he said, trying to decide between meeting or avoiding Julian’s intense gaze, “would you like that for here, or to go?”

"I think you'll find it's already in a to-go cup," Julian said, raising an eyebrow. 

"That's because we're getting the hell out of here," Eskel said, and—much to Julian's instant pleasure and amusement—fluidly traversed the service counter, landing deftly on the other side. "I just need to change my shoes, and I'll be up in a second." Julian looked down to see Eskel's black work shoes covered with espresso and nodded, blowing on his tea as he watched, leaving him with the Prickly Brother, staring at him as he chewed his bacon. 

Julian sipped his tea and peered over the rim at Lambert, who had been scowling at him the entire time. Though he didn’t take it personally, it was likely that was just his face. “So,” Julian started, thrumming his fingers on the side of the paper cup, “you’re the one who’s been eating all of the merchandise?”

Lambert scoffed and scowled sideways, the last piece of bacon sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He nudged himself off the back counter and swaggered close to Julian. "Listen. I don't know what your deal is. But if you fuck him over, you will have two very big, very pissed off brothers to deal with. Got it?" 

"Fuck him over what?"

"'Scuse me?" Lambert said, scowling harder. 

"You said not to fuck him over, but didn't specify what."

It took Lambert a moment, but he granted himself one singular chuckle for the little shit. “Alright, kid. Just- be careful with him.” 

Julian smiled gently, peering over Lambert’s shoulder to where Eskel was striding back into the shop. “He seems like the kind of guy that I will certainly be trying my best to keep around.”

“Better believe it. You can spend your whole life looking, you won’t find a better guy than Eskel. He’s a fucking goldmine. But he’s our goldmine. Take his shine, you answer to us.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian mock saluted as Eskel handed something to Lambert. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piece of bacon. 

“Geralt’s in charge,” Eskel rumbled (which Julian found enticing) and with that, he turned on his heel and pulled open the door. He held it open and Julian smiled as the two of them stepped into the evening sun.

Eskel took a deep breath as soon as they stepped into the fresh air, letting the warm sunlight spill across his face. It was beautiful to look at. His hair glinted with little chestnut highlights and his arching eyebrows became even more pronounced in contrast with the brightness of his skin in the evening glow. Julian watched the muscles of his face relax, the pressure of greeting people slowly dissolving. His shoulders dropped, and he looked truly exhausted for a moment before opening his eyes and smiling softly. “So, Julian. Do you like dog parks?”

Julian braced an excited hand on the swell of Eskel’s arm (and my gods it was firm), “I would love to go to the dog park...but will it be odd if we just show up, without a dog?”

Eskel laughed and Julian felt his knees go a bit wobbly and he tucked his arm around Eskel’s for support. He noticed Eskel glance down. Ah, right, a bit forward. Easy Jaskier. Julian smoothly transitioned to holding his cup with both hands and Eskel smirked privately, appreciating the non-verbal understanding. “No, not really. We can find a bench if it’s not too cold, lots of people come by and watch. Not everyone in the city can have an animal, people are pretty understanding of onlookers.” Julian still looked skeptical, “c’mon, it’s not like going to a playground. I promise we won’t be creepy.”

“Well...” Jaskier smiled, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “lead the way.” 

Eskel walked slowly, stretching their time (and his legs) as much as he could. They made polite, easy small talk, finding little details about each other as they walked.

It turned out that they had surprisingly similar tastes in music, and Jaskier was both pleased and intimidated to learn that Lambert doubled as a DJ on weekends at one of the more popular clubs downtown. He was further surprised to learn that their father owned and operated one of the oldest Italian restaurants in the city and was quite famous because of it—he’d opened it as an homage to his Italian wife when she passed away unexpectedly—and while Papa Vesemir himself was Polish, he’d learned to cook from the best. 

It seemed they were a culinary family, in fact. Both Lambert and Geralt had trained in professional settings—Geralt had a background in baking, while Lambert had trained on the line with his father. Eskel, it turned out, preferred to be behind the bar. He liked people. Enjoyed making drinks. His father always joked that he had the “magic touch.” Every drink he made always came out tasting better, even if he followed the recipe to a T.

“So, why the coffee shop?” Julien asked as they rounded the corner of the dog park. They both smiled as they saw fluffballs of all shapes and sizes bounding around, and Eskel led them to a small bench.

He kicked his feet out in front of him and sipped his own coffee thoughtfully. “It was something we all knew how to do, and we saw a niche missing in the neighborhood. We had originally wanted to make it a bit more of a hub for artists and public resources—you know, host workshops, put up fliers, put artists’ work on the walls to sell. It isn’t quite where we want it yet, but it’s our old neighborhood. Wanted to give something back to the community. Plus, we like having regulars. You don’t get the same thing with restaurants. Cafes, though, you can get to know people better. Build loyalty.” 

Julian sat for a moment, looking at Eskel with a deeper appreciation than he already had. “You’re amazing,” he breathed, the words spilling from his lips without so much as a second thought. 

Eskel flushed even deeper, his neck a very pretty shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say all that...” 

“But I would,” Julian nodded, downing the remainder of his tea. “You’ve created something beautiful in a place that’s meaningful to you with your family, that’s amazing. And I’m allowed to say that, because I personally decide what is and is not amazing.”

“Fair enough,” Eskel raised an eyebrow and hid a smirk behind another sip of coffee. “It’s just... well everyone’s gone and opened up a coffee shop now, and it’s getting harder to see where our niche still sits. It’s a diverse neighborhood, we don’t want to alienate anyone, but we have to stay open... ah, I dunno. I suppose anything seems unremarkable if you’ve been waist-deep in the logistics for long enough.” 

“Do you have open mic nights?” 

“What?” 

“Open mic nights, you know, local artists bring their instruments, read poetry, play music, promote new albums while people buy alcohol and food?” 

Eskel tilted his head, “Huh...” 

“Yeah. Huh.” Julian nudged Eskel’s shoulder playfully. 

“The only issue with that is hours. We’d have to hire more staff and/or open later in the day so we can stay open.” 

“You could man a proper bar again,” Julian sang, jiggling his foot at the end of his crossed leg. 

Eskel reached an arm up and over and around Julian’s shoulder, “Julian, either you’re a remarkable person and I don’t know what on earth you could possibly want with me... or you’ve been sent by one of our competitors to play a long con and put us out of business.”

Julian tried valiantly to hide the shiver that ran down his spine just with the proximity, the weight of Eskel’s arm resting comfortably on his shoulders. “Well, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you,” Julian smirked. Eskel threw his head back and laughed, reveling in the rejuvenating aura of the delight of a human that had deposited himself at his side.

“Hmmm, shall we keep walking? Or—I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got things to do,” his gaze on Julian was sincere and unassuming and the young musician was certain he’d never had less sense of any ulterior motives than he did in this moment. 

“I should drop my things home before work, actually. But we can walk for a bit in the same direction if you like.” 

Eskel shrugged, “Sure! Which way are we headed?” 

“I’m an Eastender,” Julian smirked. “Off we go!” He offered his elbow for Eskel to take, which he did—a little tentatively and far more gently than Julian would ever have expected from someone so... physically imposing.

Eskel could feel the persistent thrum of blood under his skin, but not in a way that signalled any particular desire. He felt comfortable, more content than he had been in a very long time, and he felt like he could easily waste an entire day doing exactly what they’d been doing for the last hour. Walking, talking, laughing... 

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, looking up at Eskel and stealing his breath in the same movement.

“I’m—uh—“ he cleared his throat again, “I’m thinking about how pleasant this has been and... also how comfortable I feel. I—well, I get the jitters, usually. With this kind of thing Which is not to say I haven’t still got them but,” they stopped walking for a moment, and Eskel turned to face his date, “what I’m trying to say is you’re very comfortable to be around. And that’s new.” 

“Wow... honesty. I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I’m sorry did-did I...?” 

“Just make me more impressed?” That damn smile, “yes, I’m afraid you did. How tragic.”

Just like that, Eskel was lost again, caught up in those eyes that shone with an enigmatic innocence and penetrating observation that kept him looking and left him speechless. And Julian... well Julian was uncharacteristically at a loss for words in front of this stunningly kind, unbearably-gentle man he'd impulsively taken a chance on just a few hours ago because of a hunch. 

Eskel wondered whether Julian had leaned a bit closer during their few seconds of silence and countered, leaning forward a little himself. But he didn't want to make the young man think he was in it for the wrong reasons. The fact that he was older and larger wasn't lost on him, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to feel any pressure. Those bright blue eyes flitted to Eskel's lips, and he swallowed, waiting. But Julian's intuition was too strong—Eskel was hesitating. Instead of following his eyes to the full, soft-looking lips in front of him, Julian placed his hands on Eskel's chest and dispersed the tension. 

“If we don’t keep walking I’m going to freeze my ass off,” Julian finally said. 

Eskel huffed a small laugh. “Come on then,” he jutted his chin, and the two started walking again. 

After a brief silence, Julian spoke, suddenly worried that Eskel felt rejected in some way, “For what it’s worth, I also feel quite comfortable. With you, I mean.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I find I’m starting to move away from the Village scene. It’s always nice to have a community, of course, be able to go to a bar and know you’re in good company but... in the city, everyone’s trying on identities and—it’s all well and good, they should, but it’s just... well, it was fun for a while. I just want to play music and make people happy.” 

“Hm. I can relate to that.”

Julian stopped at the top of the street that would lead him to his apartment, not really wanting the evening to end, wondering whether Eskel was aware exactly how much he’d brightened Julian’s day. 

“C-would you...I mean, if I- or-“ Eskel stuttered, his fingers fiddling at his sides. 

“Go on...” Julian crooked his head with a gentle smile. 

“Would you mind if I came to one of your shows?”

Julian closed his hands around Eskel’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Good God, please come to one of my shows so I can look at a face that wants to be there instead of my bored friends.” 

“Well, I’m sorry it has to be my face,” Eskel fumbled in his self-consciousness, hearing the sound of his own distasteful insecurity. He grimaced inwardly. bad form, Eskel. 

“Hm. Clearly, you haven’t met my pimply weak-chinned-not-at-all-utterly-dashing friends.” It was so easy. Ludicrously easy, the way Julian made Eskel smile in that moment. It truly was a remarkable feat, one that none of Eskel’s former failed romances had ever navigated as easily, or as quickly.

“Thank you,” Eskel said quietly, only for Julian’s ears. 

“Whatever for?” Julian’s brow crinkled adorably and Eskel wanted to smooth the creases away with his thumbs. 

“For...for being bold. Because I know I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh please. This is all stage presence and bravado. I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown since I wrote my number on that napkin. Listen, I’ve—ahh I hate to do this but I really have got to run. We can text later or I’ll pop by the cafe tomorrow and—“ 

“Absolutely, do your thing, I don’t want to make you late. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab dinner.” 

“I’ll check my schedule tonight. Should be free in the next few days. Have a good night, Eskel. I mean that.” Julian turned to go, but turned back, quickly pecking a kiss to Eskel’s right cheek, leaving the man standing with a half-smile of surprise on his face as he watched his new love interest scurry into his apartment.

Eskel walked back to the coffee shop, his cheeks pained from the smile that still hadn’t faded. The little bell above the door chimed and Geralt looked up from where was wiping down the counter, and Eskel heard a loud clang as Lambert dropped a metal pan and came running to the front of the now-empty cafe.

Eskel stood in front of his brothers. Geralt’s hand stopped where it was mid-wipe and Lambert fidgeted where he stood, hands on his hips. “So??”

Eskel hadn’t seen Lambert this energetic in a long time, and stood silently, drinking in his little brother’s excitement. Geralt came out from behind the counter, “Eskel. I don’t want to beat it out of you, but you’re leaving me with very few options.” 

“Nah, Geralt, you gotta use smaller words. He’s clearly having a stroke. Eskel!” Lambert clapped loudly, “How did. It go. With Pretty Boy. C’mon, we’re tryna close up here!”

Eskel finally spoke, “I—yeah, it was great. I, uh, I really like him.” 

“Fucking finALLY, BROTHER, THAT’S FUCKIN’ AMAZING!” Lambert practically jumped on Eskel, and Geralt sauntered over to put an arm around his shoulder. “You call Dad yet?” 

“No, I want to wait. I want to make sure this time. Don’t wanna get his hopes up. Plus he’s... well, he’s a bit younger—“ 

Lambert cut him off, “Whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there. What do you always do?” 

“Self-sabotage.” 

“Exactly. So shut up with that shit. You like him, yes?” 

“Yes. Definitely, very much.” 

“And he likes you.” 

“Well I mean—“ 

“That wasn’t a question. He likes you. End of discussion. He’s an adult, let him decide what he wants. Geralt?” 

“Surprisingly sound logic, coming from you. Frightening, actually.”

Eskel nodded along as his brothers bickered back and forth. He felt like he was floating on air, without a tether to the ground. 

“Oh, fuck, he’s really gone for him isn’t he?” Lambert muttered, watching Eskel’s eyes glaze over once more.

Eskel smirked and shook his head, “Fuck off, Lambert.” He playfully shoved his brother’s head to the side and went to count out the till and take it downstairs. He just sat down by the safe when his phone pinged.

Free for dinner day-after-tomorrow, playing a gig tomorrow night and Friday. Which would you prefer first?

Eskel smiled and typed out a response of his own, sending it before he could rethink it. Could I come to tomorrow’s gig and take you to dinner Thursday? I really want to see you again.

He felt his breath immediately quicken, but his hand was steady as he waited for a reply. 

*...* 

*...* 

*...* 

Oh Jesus God please just reply...

Gig tomorrow is at 8:30, Gibson’s Pub in Corktown. $5 cover and also $5 Mill St. on tap. Dinner on Thursday it is. Not fussy, but nothing too spicy. Your choice 😊

Not quite sure what we should do for dinner, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I won’t miss it for the world. Meanwhile, Eskel knew exactly where he’d be going for dinner. He shot off a text to his father and requested a quiet table for 2 at his restaurant. Papa Vesemir never asked too many questions, but he knew he’d have to explain later.

If you have the opportunity to save the world rather than listen to me play Wonderwall at someone’s request, please do. You can hear that literally any time you want.

For my favorite son, what wouldn’t I do?

Eskel replied to both: That’s a tall order. Watching you begrudgingly play Wonderwall could let me die a happy man.

Thanks, Pops. I know you’re not working that night, just tell Giulio nothing fancy, okay? Just a normal two-top.

Eskel’s phone dinged twice more: Oh my gods, you really are trying to kill me aren't you? You’re too sweet ;)

Mhm.

Eskel continued on with Julian, content with leaving Vesemir to finish his night. Don’t get me wrong, there would be a deep amusement in knowing how much you definitely hate that song by now.

Oh, I absolutely despise it and it needs to go die horribly in a dumpster somewhere. At least now I’ll have a confidante tomorrow evening. You know, someone to really share my suffering with.

Will you play any of your originals? 

Would you like me to?

Only if you want. I understand if you’d rather not share them right away. 

Julian was quickly realizing the extent to which he had, very much, struck a gold mine. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what was waiting around the corner to make things not work out This Time. But he shoved those thoughts back. I share my music every week with people who’ve either heard it all before, or are too distracted to really care. Mostly Tinder dates trying to gain hipster points. Please. I would be so happy to know you’re there and actually wanting to listen.

Eskel felt his heart flutter in his chest as he rested his elbows on the desk with a crooked smile. 

I can’t wait, I’m sure they’re wonderful :) Eskel wasn’t really one to use emojis, but this one just kinda...slipped out.

He was whistling by the time he got to the top of the stairs and his brothers were already waiting for him, jackets on, lights out, floors mopped, door ready to be locked. 

“Dinner? Eskel said, trying to wipe what he knew was a stupid grin off his face. 

“Where to, lover boy?” 

Eskel deferred to Geralt, “Hmmm. China down?” 

“Mother Dumpling?” Eskel offered, pulling his collar up as they headed out, Geralt and Lambert sounding their agreement. With the cafe door closed and locked, the three brothers headed out into the evening.