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maira-writes-shit · 3 years ago

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You look cute

Tanizaki Junichirou x Tachihara Michizou

Tattoo parlor x Flower shop AU, meeting, fluff

Junichirou was a very simple person.

He loved his sister, his friends and his job.

He was a florist for one of the best flower shops in town.

Junichirou was currently working on a arrangement for one of their frequent customers. It was a old man that came by every week or so to get a small arrangement for his wife. They had been together for over 50 years now.

The redhead smiled down at the arrangement he just finished.

Their relationship is so sweet...I wish I could have that...

“Tanizaki! You’re back here, right?“

The man in question turned around to see his best friend Atsushi waving at him from the front of the shop.

The redhead nodded and walked out of the back room to the front the shop.

It wasn’t the biggest size wise and it was stacked with plants but it felt as much as home as the little apartment he and Naomi lived in.

„Aku is taking me out on a date. Could you cover my shift for today? Only if you're finished of course!“

„Sure thing, Atsushi! Don’t worry you’ll be fine!“

“Thanks you’re the best!“ the white haired boy then vanished into the back with a big smile on his face.

The older of the two looked at the closing door with a soft smile.

He had sadly been on the receiving end of most of his coworkers rants about this guy he constantly butted heads with but still somehow thought was kind of cute. It actually hadn't been that long ago when Atsushi had finally mastered the courage to ask Akutagawa out.

Junichirou was happy for him (also maybe because he wouldn't get random 3am calls of Atsushi screaming about said boy anymore...hopefully).

Since it was the late afternoon the shift didn't have many customers.

There was the old man coming to get his arrangement, a young man buying the classic (roses), a bride that came to check up on a few things and a mother and her little daughter who bought a couple of single flowers.

Junichirou helped them all and then sat back just scrolling on his phone.

He was just looking at the clock and realizing he should slowly start to close the shop, when the little bell above the stores door jingled.

The florist looked up to see a man standing slightly awkward in the door.

...a very handsome man.

He was around Junichirou's hight, with red hair some shades darker than Junichirou. The man wore a cropped green jaket and a white V-neck shirt as well as...a band aid on his nose?

Wierd fashion choice...b ut it doese look good on him.

He'd look good in everything.

Jun we don't even know his name!

I'm just saying!

Junichirou shook his head to get rid of his thoughts as he put on a smile again.

"May I help you?"

The man jumped a little but then went up to the desk at which the other redhead was sitting.

"Uh yeah. I think you can." Junicirou chuckled. "And how?"

The man rolled his eyes but his cheeks were tinted a light pink.

"I just need an arrangement for the front window of the place I work at." "Oh so you can say stuff that makes sense!"

Junichirou was usually not like this, especially to customers. He didn't know what it was about this guy that made it so easy for him to tease and joke but if he was honest...he liked it.

The redhead in front of him snorted and raised an eyebrow.

"So now that we've established that-" Junichirou stood up and grabbed his notebook and pen. "-what's the style you're going for?"

"Well it's a tattoo shop-" "The one down the street?" "-Uh yeah. Do you know it?"

The florist tapped his pen on the notebook.

"Yeah my coworkers boyfriend works there..." ,he mumbled as he walked over to some of the flowers in he coner that might be of intrest for the man.

"Oh-um well then if you've been there before you should know what type of aesthetic, I guess, we are going for, right?"

Junichirou hummed.

"'kay so I have some ideas. The thing is just you came very shortly before closing and frankly I have a sister at home that will beat the shit out of me if I'm not back on time so-"

The redhead went into the back to get his bag.

"_don't worry I'll have the arrangement finished tomorrow at noon. I'll just need you to write down your name and if you want it to be brought to the shop of course where the shop is. Please make it fast I can't be late."

The taller man in front of him looked slightly speachless but then seemed to regain his mind because he started writing the information down on the pice of paper JUnichirou had given him.

Tachihara Michizou, huh?

I'll remeber that...

Tachihara seemed to linger for a few seconds too long until he then turned around and walked to the shops door.

"Oh yeah by the way."

JUnichirou looked back up.

"You look cute." ,he winked. "Well see ya sometime, Red!"

JUnichirou just looked at the door closing with his mouth open.

"Wha-what the fuck just happned?!"

Honestly Junichirou was just confused.

He walked the short way to his and Naomi’s apartment without paying attention to anyrhing, nearly getting hit by a car.

He was so distracted that even completely ignored his sister who jumped to hug him the second he opened the door, which wasn’t good.

“Hey! Are you ignoring me?!“

“H-huh? Oh! Sorry Naomi!“

“Something must have happned at work today.“ the redhead could feel his cheeks heating up. „So I’m right!“

“Yeah ok ok you’re right.“ Junichirou walked around his sister into the kitchen, where he opened the cupboard to get out two bowls.

“So tell me!“

„You‘re a noisy one, aren’t you?“ „Hey! Don’t be mean to your adorable little sister!“

The siblings sat down as the water started to boil.

There was a comfortable silence between them even if Junichirou could practically feel Naomi‘s questions floating in the air.

“Ok it has to do with a customer.“ Naomi gave the happy little squeak she always gave when he told her, as she called it, „The tea“ from work.

“So I was just about to close where this guy came in.“ his sister seemed to visibly get even more intrigued.

„He was like really handsome. He was tall, had red hair, intense eyes and I’m pretty sure he wore eyeliner. He had an interesting fashion style and had a bunch of tattoos, because he works at the tattoo parlor Atsushi‘s boyfriend also works at.“

Naomi hummed with a smirk on her lips, as she held her head in her hands.

“Well he walked in last minute and asked for an arrangement for the front of their parlor. And of course I was like: „sure I’ll do it. It’ll be done by tomorrow just give me the name of the place and I’ll deliver it“, right?“ Naomi nodded.

“And everything is fine everything is normal.“ his sister raised an eyebrow. „Ok normal with a little bit more blushing.“

“Anyway! He walks out but just before he leaves he turns around to me and says, and I quote: „You look cute.“ and then he winked at me and left!“

The black haired girl in front of him gasped. „He winked?! No he didn’t!“ „Yes he did!“ „Oh god!“

The water was finally done boiling so Junichirou stood up to get it and finish their dinner.

“Well he seems to like you. Wait- did you get his name?“ „Uh- yeah I did. I need it for the delivery and everything, remember?“ „Yeah yeah. So what is it?“ „Tachihara…Michizou Tachihara.“

Even if Junichirou didn’t like the expression on his sisters face he just ignored it and sat down in front of her with the food.

„Good Morning Jun!“

„AHH Oh god Naomi don’t scare me like that!“

“Yeah yeah whatever. Come on I need to show you something!“

„Wait don’t I need to go to-wait it’s 6am. What the fuck Are you doing awake?“ „Pssst!“

Naomi basically ran through their small apartment dragging a very tried Junichirou behind her.

On the small couch the siblings own sat a girl with red glasses, long brown hair and tried looking green eyes.

Haruno, his sisters girlfriend.

„Good morning Haruno.“ „Good Morning Junichirou“, she said giving him a small smile. They suffered together by the hands of the one, Naomi Tanizaki.

“We found something out. Sit down.“ The black haired girl grabbed to open laptop sitting on the table in front of the couch.

With „we“ she probably mean Haruno, and she was just cuddling her half the time…

“Michizou Tachihara, 22 years of age, Tattoo artist. He’s currently single and a bisexual. He has been working at Port tattoo for about 2 or 3 years, not sure about that one. He’s pretty good friends with someone called Gin Akutagawa, but don’t worry they have a girlfriend.“

“Also before you ask: yes Gin is related to Atsushi‘s boyfriend. They are siblings“, Naomi‘s girlfriend piped up.

Junichirou was just stunned.

“Wha-what? When? How? Did you guys even sleep?!“

“No we did not but that is not important! What’s important is that we now know that he is single and probably attracted to you.“

He had no words.

Junichirou was distracted again.

He was just working on an arrangement for a handsome bisexual guy who told him he looked cute…

What the actual fuck?!

He took a step back.

The arrangement was beautiful, one of his best works he’d say.

A lot of dark blues and purples.

The hyacinths blending beautifully with the cornflowers. Just all in all pretty.

Sure he thought it was kind of embarrassing adding the cornflowers, he knew a lot about flower language after all but most of his customers didn’t really care especially for these types of jobs so the redhead bushed those thoughts to the back of his head.

Junichirou took a deep breath.

Lets do this!

Be confident!

He took the arrangement.

The walk wasn’t going to be long so it was fine for him to just carry it.

“Ok I’m off, Atsushi! See you in a bit!“ „Yeah sure thing, Tani!“

…

The walk to the tattoo parlor was blurr and now he was standing in front of it.

Oh fucking god-

Deep breaths Junichirou

Deep breaths

And he walked in.

“Hello how can I help you?“

The woman at the front was a little older than him, had blond hair that she had in a bun and had warm brown eyes. She looked nice.

“Uh I need to talk to uhm Tachihara?“

She eyed him a little bit visibly inspecting the vase in his hand.

She gave him a smirk.

“Yeah he should be free I’ll tell him.“

“Thank you…“

He had only ever been in here once. He had to wait in the front room as Atsushi and Akutagawa were at each other’s throats agin. Oh how happy he was they were dating now. Less fighting…less.

The place looked nice though.

Even if it had a rather cool color palette with a lot of blues, purples and blacks it still seemed very cozy and the seats were the softest things Junichirou‘s ass had ever touched.

Some of the work by the artist that worked here was displayed on the walls. These people were so goddamm talented.

#my fanfiction #tachihara michizou #tanihara #tanizaki x tachihara #tanizaki junichirou #bungou stray dogs

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idiottweets · 3 years ago

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40, 48, 50?

40. If you could do some kind of historical swap (i.e. place a ghost in a different period from their own), who would you choose and what period are they from now?

My first thought was Mary in current times! I would be really interested to see how her personality and beliefs would work these days (as a human, not a ghost), and how she would live, and how she would die.

48. What do you think the ghosts' jobs would be in a modern living-human AU where they're all just chaotic housemates?

Cap: headmaster

Mary: gardener? florist? something with plants

Robin: electrician (heh)

Thomas: struggling writer

Julian: i cannot see Julian as anything but a politician

Kitty: singer/dancer

Pat: a primary school teacher, and probably still a scout leader

i can't think of anything for Fanny and Humphrey!

50. Name an AU you haven't seen someone create content for, but which you'd love to read a fic or see some art for.

I'm not a big AU person, but I would really like a fic where other paranormal creatures exist in the Ghosts universe, so eg whenever there's a full moon you have a werewolf running around the woodland area outside of Button House, and Mary was an actual witch

#sorry if the formatting looks weird i wrote it down in my notes app #ask #anon #ask game

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docheros · 4 years ago

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flower shop/tattoo studio au: new beginnings

Anthony just opened his floriculture, and from everything he planned, he didn’t expect to see a tattooed greek god™ working on the other side of the street.

Hope you’re all awake and I want to see all of you commenting because I spent almost 2 months writing this and it’s only the first chapter

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It was a sunny day, hot and with few clouds in the sky, perhaps the perfect beach day at another time. But this wasn’t a beach day, because at that very moment, Anthony was too busy organizing the last details of his new floriculture, since everything had to be just like what he and his grandmother imagined. It was the first time that he would open the store and, if all went well, fulfill his oldest dream.

Fluffing the cushions on the small sofa, he remembered how lucky he was to have gotten that spot in a popular neighborhood. It wasn’t an absurdly large property, but enough for the pink balcony, a small sofa with an armchair and lots, lots plants. Maybe in the future, he would put a little table and some sweets on the outside, so that people could also enjoy some snacks.

He sighed when he saw the whole tidy room, turning to the clock and seeing that there were still five minutes to go before the opening. Before he could check the flowers again, a knock on the door caught his eye. He turned, finding Marvin practically glued to the window.

— Get out of there! — Anti opened the door laughing, giving space for the friend to enter — Did your mother ever teach you about not supporting yourself on glass?

— Don't worry, this window is armored! — They unlocked their phone, hugging the other’s neck — Let's take a selfie so I can do the commercial for your flower shop!

— And since when are you a digital influencer? — He let go of the hug before Marvin took his picture — I thought your followers just liked to see animals on your profile.

— I also have a profile for me, okay? — she sat on the couch, waving her freshly dyed hair — I'm a beauty guru.

Anti just rolled his eyes, he had more important things to do instead of answering Marvin. For example, turn the front plate to indicate that it was open.

— Will you find me a pretty client? — they asked, still typing on their cell phone — I miss kissing on the mouth, and no single person appears in the pet shop!

— Why don’t you just go to a club? — Marvin made a face of pure disgust for Anti, who lifted his shoulders — Do I look like someone who knows how to give advice? Honestly, I only wait for old ladies and plant’s moms around here.

— It was time for a sugar mommy to appear for me.

— As if some rich old woman would want you.

— I'm not liking that character of yours, Anthony — He stood up, going to the front door — I have to go now, otherwise I'm really going to need a sugar mommy. I'll call you later!

— Bye Marvin!

Anti watched the car until he turned the street corner, leaving the man alone and the flower shop silent again, waiting for a customer to show up.

But before sitting behind the counter, he noticed the establishment across the street. Small, but intimidating: all painted in black, with a large window, three chairs in the front, and a few graffiti phrases on the door, which was certainly not part of the aesthetic. Above the window, the (off) sign with the word "TATTOOS" indicated the obvious: a tattoo studio. Anti laughed with his nose, how ironic a flower shop opens in front of a tattoo studio.

— Who is the owner? — He asked to himself, leaning on the counter. He wanted to wait for the tattoo artist to arrive, but a customer had arrived at his own store.

Yeah, he needed to start the day

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The sky was beginning to darken when the florist closed the doors, tired of the busy but productive day. Many customers showed up and many flowers were sold, Anti was sure that some would be frequent customers.

After he finished sweeping the front area, he went in again to tidy up the plants and put new ones on display for the next day. He spotted the studio across the street when he was cleaning the windows, and remembered that he hadn't seen the owner all day. Well, he was probably there, since the lights were on and some figures could be seen moving through the frosted glass. Maybe it was more than one owner?

And suddenly, all the lights turned off, and two people left the establishment. They appeared to be two men, both probably in their thirties and displaying many tattoos on both arms. The shorter one had light brown hair, a thin beard and wore glasses; the black sleeveless turtleneck and white coat tied at their waist certainly made them look like a doctor when they dressed both. The taller one had dark hair — Anti couldn't tell if it was black or brown — and a thick mustache. The white button-down blouse and dark gray vest contrasted with the thousands of tattoos on their arm and supposed profession, like a man from the 1900s with a few touches from the 2010s.

The two talked and laughed loudly, it was possible to hear from inside the floriculture. Slightly gaping, Anti saw the shortest get into a car that had just arrived and the tallest to get on a nearby motorcycle, waving at the car before the vehicle left. They stayed there for a while looking at something on their cell phone and then put it away and put on a helmet. But before giving the ignition, they raised their face to the flower shop. Anthony quickly turned around, pretending to be cleaning the chairs. Had the stranger realized that they were being stared at, or did they just want to see the name of the flower shop?

In one way or another, the florist only looked up when he heard the engine’s noise moving away. As soon as he was sure he was alone again, he sat on the couch, releasing all the air he was holding and his thoughts all over the place. How, how could someone so handsome work literally in front of him? Was this an offering from God for Anti to become a Catholic again or a temptation for some demon to lose the job he had barely won?

Because he knew he would be distracted.

Instinctively, he took out his cell phone and called a number. He needed to tell his brother everything that happened.

— Hello-

— Chase, for your son's sake, call an ambulance because I feel like I'm going to die.

— WHAT? Anthony, what happened?

— Oh man — He passed the right hand over his mouth, wiping sweat — I opened my flower shop, right? Right, beautiful, very cool. Everything was going really well UNTIL I found out that there is a tattoo studio in front of me and-

— Calm down, tattoo studio? In front of your flower shop?

— I thought the same thing! Irony, right? Anyway, there is the tattoo studio, right, and it looks like there are two guys who work there, or whatever. And listen, Chase, there's one that is SO HANDSOME like, Chase, Chase you don't understand me, the guy is everything I ever wanted in a boyfriend.

— Damn, even the mustache?

— EVEN THE MUSTACHE! I didn't get to talk to them, but just because of the appearance, the guy has already won 50% of me and, and… — he took a pillow nearby, muffling his scream — Chase I should have gone to more teenage parties to learn how to relate to people. Beautiful, very beautiful people.

— You really should. Now seriously, how was the first day?

— Ah, nothing impressive. But do you believe that…

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anti i feel you i also like mustachioed men

ik you already know who the two men are, but i talked about them with they/them pronouns because it’s partially anti’s pov dksjsdkfkdj

yeah hope you liked it

#i'm writing!!#antisepticeye #jameson jackson #ego shipping #dapperanti #antidapper #dapperanti my beloved #flower shop/tattoo studio au

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arrestjellyfish · 4 years ago

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Rainbow Blossoms

Chapter 1: Saturday

[Sanders Sides, romantic prinxiety / Virgil/Roman]

Summary:

Tattoo artist Roman Prince goes to the local florist to visit his elderly friend, Céleste Tempȇte, and pick some flowers to use as inspiration for a new design.

But instead of finding a soft old woman amongst the iridescent display of flora, he meets her anxious emo grandson. Virgil Tempȇte is everything you would not expect to find in a flower shop.

Cue intrigued simp noises.

Other chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

Chapter warnings: swearing, suggestive language, mention of mild illness, brief mention of artwork depicting mild blood

Chapter word count: 6,900

Read on AO3 or below!

[Also available as a podfic!]

oOo

It was unusually warm for a midsummer day in England. Crowds of people had flocked to the streets in excitement, hoping to soak up the best of the sunshine before the clouds were bound to return with a vengeance later that week.

Roman waltzed across the cobblestone road, inhaling rich scents of earthy vegetables and fresh, salty fish. Market vendors hailed from every direction, boasting low prices on sugar snap peas (freshly-picked that morning) and 2 kilos for the price of one on the juiciest peaches. Pedestrians of every age bustled around, energised by the atmosphere.

A burly man cut across Roman’s path, lugging a crate of dirt-caked carrots across the road. Roman had to sidestep to avoid crashing into him. He bumped into a metal pole on one of the many market stands in his haste, bruising his arm.

‘Are you quite all right, young man?’ the woman behind the stall asked in a kind voice.

A wide grin broke onto his face as he rubbed his aching arm. ‘I’m wonderful, thank you, madam!’

He adored market day.

His phone chimed in his pocket, and he knew it would be Remy demanding he get his arse back to work. Really, Roman knew he should have been hurrying back to the studio, but how could he possibly be expected to forego a gentle stroll through the town centre on such a wondrous day as this?

Besides, he had a perfectly valid excuse to be out of the stuffy tattoo parlour on this bright afternoon. The client he had had a consultation with earlier had requested quite an intricate design for their future tattoo, consisting of various flowers. Roman felt a duty to purchase a bouquet for reference, wanting even his initial sketches to live up to his reputation as an artist. He hadn’t been nominated tattooist of the month three months in a row for nothing, after all.

To aid in the completion of his quest, he knew the perfect, quaint little flower shop hidden away behind the sandstone buildings of the high street. There was an abundance of flower stalls dotted along the market, of course, though Roman was well-versed in selecting the finest of flora (having had plenty of opportunities to woo handsome young men in his 25 years) and knew a wider selection would be available at Beau Blossoms.

There was also a sense of loyalty that made him skip past the flower stalls and duck into the familiar crooked backstreet. He had become well acquainted with his favourite florist’s elderly owner, Céleste Tempȇte, who Roman had grown to see as one of his dearest friends, even if their 50-year age gap was unconventional.

He quickened his pace as he neared the modest shopfront, it’s pale blue paint chipping from years of wear. The windows were adorned with an iridescent display of the most gorgeous flower arrangements, as usual.

‘Good afternoon, mon fleur d’amour!’ Roman sang heartily as he pushed the glass door open, ducking his head with practised ease to avoid hitting it on the bell that jingled above him.

He breathed deeply at the onslaught of pungent floral scents. The intensity of the pollen had overwhelmed him at first all those months ago, though he had grown accustomed to it and now welcomed the attack on his senses as if greeting an old friend.

Crooked, aged floorboards creaked beneath him as he stepped around the corner of the entranceway. ‘How is the fairest woman in town fairing on this fair day?’

Roman looked up at the wooden desk where Céleste would always be slumped, doing a sudoku puzzle and smiling widely at Roman’s antics.

Then he froze.

Sitting in Céleste’s rickety stool was a complete stranger. They looked around Roman’s age, perhaps a tad younger, and were a decidedly different sight from what Roman had expected.

Céleste was a stout woman with silver hair who would often wear pastel floral dresses, with a mint-green shawl perpetually draped across her rounded shoulders. This new person looked similarly below-average in height, though otherwise was a polar opposite. They appeared scrawny and the pale skin on their hands and neck was practically swallowed by an oversized black and purple tartan jacket. Their ripped black skinny jeans (complete with chains and studded belt) were a far cry from Céleste’s nude pantyhose and where Céleste’s grey eyes would crinkle with delight at Roman’s entrance, this person’s dark eyes were wide with surprise and framed by the blackest eyeliner and smokey purple eyeshadow.

‘You’re not my Céleste,’ Roman said, feeling robbed.

The stranger’s eyes grew wider still and their eyebrows pulled down in anger. ‘Dude, what the fuck? You flirt with my grandma?’

Roman held his hands up in surrender, hoping to placate the sudden hostile atmosphere. ‘Relax, Count Drag-ula. I’m gay.’

‘Oh…’ the stranger breathed, seeming humbled and embarrassed by their outburst.

They slumped in their seat, having been sitting ramrod straight since Roman had entered. Then their arms folded around their torso and their shoulders hunched up as if protecting their neck. Bright purple hair fell over their eyes as they looked to the floor. The intimidating air that had been so pronounced in them seconds previously faded and was replaced by what Roman recognised as debilitating shyness.

It clicked pretty quickly after that.

‘You must be Virgil Tempȇte, right?’

Céleste had mentioned her grandson on many occasions during their friendly chats. Mostly she only mentioned him in passing, offhandedly saying that he had moved back home after a year in London, or boasting about what Virgil had gotten her for her 75th birthday (a vintage encyclopedia of 18th-century fashion trends which Roman had had the good fortune of borrowing). Though a few months previously, in an act of desperation, she had spoken much more candidly about her grandson. She had sought Roman’s advice on how she could help her beloved petite chauve-souris to become more confident in himself and overcome his severe anxiety.

Roman’s heart had warmed in hearing the old woman care so intensely about her grandson’s wellbeing. When Roman himself had been struggling with his confidence back in school, his parents had not exactly been forthcoming with support. It was refreshing to witness such unconditional love between family members.

His advice had mainly been that there was not much that Céleste could do to enforce a stronger sense of self-worth in Virgil, but that she should simply let him know that she loved and supported him and would be there for him as he grew.

Now, Roman presumed Virgil had come out of his shell, at least a little, given his rather eccentric makeup and clothing choices. Though he was still curled into himself protectively as he gave Roman a wary look through a wisp of his fringe.

‘How do you know my name?’

‘Céleste talks about you a lot,’ Roman said easily, offering one of his winning smiles.

It was, unfortunately, not met with the same enamoured responses he was accustomed to receiving. In fact, rather than dazzled by Roman’s charm, Virgil looked mortified.

Hearing that someone had been talking about you behind your back to a complete stranger was likely a little distressing to someone with an anxiety disorder, Roman realised. He moved the conversation on quickly.

‘I’m Roman Prince.’ He stepped forward to hold out his hand, which Virgil took tentatively. His fingertips were smooth. ‘I imagine your grandmother has mentioned me before.’

‘Um,’ Virgil stalled, pulling his hand back to himself and shaking his jacket sleeve so that it fell back over his fingers. ‘I’m not sure.’

Indignance overwhelmed Roman’s being.

‘Oh, come now.’ He leaned sideways against the desk, sticking out his chin just enough to profess confidence, not enough to intimidate. He had refined his poses down to a tee. ‘Your grandmother must have told you tales of the handsome young prince who brightens her days with a soft serenade,’ he finished the sentence in a lilting melody.

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up and his lips parted (they were a beautiful splash of rose against his fair skin, Roman thought). Pride swelled in Roman at the look of recognition on Virgil’s face. Céleste must have regaled her family with plenty of enthralling stories of Roman’s magnetism and penchant for chivalry.

‘Oh my God.’

‘Everything you’ve heard is true,’ Roman drawled with a confident smirk.

‘You’re the guy that grabbed the cactus like a microphone, aren’t you?’

Roman’s smile dropped instantly at the way Virgil’s lips tugged up in amusement.

‘Yes, well.’ He bridled a little, standing upright again. ‘T’was not my finest moment.’

‘Yeah, maybe not,’ Virgil mumbled. He bit his lip in what Roman assumed was an effort to contain laughter.

Heat flooded Roman’s cheeks and he promptly spun away from the table.

‘So she would tell you that story and nothing of my usual elegance,’ Roman grumbled, starting to delicately run his fingers over the blossoms displayed on the shelves. He had not taken Céleste for one to actively humiliate him.

‘No, she - I -’ Virgil stammered. ‘I’m sorry. Grandma - she has said plenty of nice things about you too, I just…’

Roman turned back to him, noting the stiffness in his posture and the pained look that pinched his features.

‘That’s just the one that sticks in the mind, y’know?’ Virgil’s long arm stretched upwards as he scratched at the back of his neck. Roman thought it might have been a way to dispel the awkwardness as Virgil’s elbow bent at such an odd angle that it partially hid his flushed cheek.

Not one to hold a grudge unnecessarily - especially not against such endearing young men - Roman smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgement.

Virgil fidgeted on his stool, seeming hesitant, then slid off of it to stand up. Though he didn’t seem much more at ease on his feet, shuffling nervously and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘You, um, you're the guy that brings her fruit tea in the mornings and texts her cute animal videos, right?’

‘C’est moi!’ Roman said with a bright grin, hoping his cheery disposition would comfort Virgil somewhat. He felt an inexplicable need to ensure the other man felt calm.

‘Well… thanks,’ Virgil mumbled, pulling his hands out of his pockets, picking at the frayed sleeves around his fingers, then burying them in his pockets again. ‘Dad and I kinda worry about her being here on her own every day, since we live a bit further out of town. It’s… nice to hear her talk about you.’

Not for the first time, and what he was sure certainly wouldn’t be the last, Roman’s chest filled with joy at hearing about the sheer love shared between the Tempȇtes.

‘But of course,’ he said, happy to see Virgil’s shoulders soften from their previous rigidity. ‘I make sure she does not go a day without seeing a friendly face, though I’m sure as wonderful as she is Céleste must have made plenty of friends in her years here.’

‘Yeah, but none like you,’ Virgil replied without pause. There was a small smile curling his lips and it was the first genuine show of happiness Roman had witnessed in him. It was quite captivating.

Then Virgil’s shoulders were suddenly raised to his neck again and he rocked backwards on his feet, putting some distance between them (at least as much as was possible in a 20-square-metre shop packed full with buckets and bundles of flowers). Roman tried to ignore the swell of disappointment in his chest.

He did not think himself skilled at much beyond his talent for tattooing and the great art of courtship, though he was confident in his ability to read the atmosphere of a room and knew to change the subject before the anxious man became any more uncomfortable.

‘So,’ Roman started, turning back to the various bunches of flowers that sat in the water troughs around the edges of the shop. He cradled the bright bloom of a sunflower in his palms and lifted it slightly from its water to better admire its beauty. ‘Where is the celestial woman? She must be on quite a grand adventure to have left behind her beloved blossoms!’

‘She’s sick.’

Roman’s stomach lurched and he felt the colour drain from his face in an instant. The sunflower dropped back into the bucket with a light splash and clang as the stem hit the metal base.

He snapped his gaze onto Virgil, who had opted to take his hands out of his pockets again and was twiddling a stem of white hyacinths between his fingers. He seemed completely undisturbed by the words that had just left his mouth.

‘My gosh, will she be all right?’ Roman asked, his voice shaking. ‘Is she in the hospital? When did this happen?’

‘Oh, shit.’ Virgil’s eyes blew wide and the white petals stopped their twirling in his hold. ‘I didn’t mean - she’s just got the flu.’

Roman was unconvinced of how reassuring that should have been, given Céleste’s ripe age.

Apparently his uncertainty was palpable as Virgil hurriedly continued, ‘My dad’s looking after her. It’s really mild, don’t worry.’

A massive sigh of relief escaped Roman and he felt the tension that he didn’t realise had seized his body begin to ebb away. Céleste had proudly proclaimed her son to be the most attentive medical nurse in the world, and given her compassionate nature Roman had not doubted for a second that that would be true of her own offspring. She was in safe hands.

‘Dear Zeus, don’t scare me like that!’ Roman cried with a steadying hand on his chest, though it was not a sincere reprimand and was followed by a breathy laugh.

‘Sorry,’ Virgil said, smiling apologetically.

Despite Roman’s brief upset, the misunderstanding seemed to have broken the last of the tension between them and Virgil did not flinch away when Roman took a step closer. He did it under the pretence of wiping his fingers dry on the tatty, damp hand towel that perpetually hung on a hook in the wall. They pulled away wetter than they had been before. ‘It’s no issue, Virgil.’

‘If it helps,’ Virgil offered, ‘I reacted just the same when Dad first told me.’

‘Oh?’ Roman prompted, feeling like he wasn’t ready for Virgil to stop talking yet.

The slighter man tended to squirm a little as he spoke, though not in an uncomfortable way; it seemed to be habitual more than anything. Habit or not, his lithe body twisted in such a subtle way that it was almost reminiscent of a pulse or a rhythmic dance. Roman found himself entranced by Virgil’s mannerisms as well as his character. And, undoubtedly, his beauty. ‘How so?’

Roman leaned his hip against the desk, locking his arms in a way that gently pushed his chest forward and stretched his t-shirt lightly. He knew it would be subtle enough to avoid arousing suspicion. Though, he thoroughly hoped that would be the only form of arousal he was avoiding.

Right on cue, Virgil’s eyes danced down to Roman’s chest, then flitted sideways to the window, back to Roman’s chest (where they lingered for a couple of seconds), and then down to the floor where they stayed. Roman smirked.

‘Yeah, I -’ Virgil cleared his throat ‘- I freaked out a bit. I actually told her I was gay the day before she caught it and I thought I’d, like, shocked her body or something.’

A surprised delight washed over Roman and his teeth bared in a disbelieving smile. Wasn’t this just perfect?

Virgil’s dark eyes - which on closer inspection Roman could now see were mismatched, one being a rich brown and the other green - rose to meet his gaze. Roman watched as he crumbled into himself with the realisation of what he had just said.

‘Oh my God, why did I tell you that?’ Virgil lamented under his breath, squinting his eyes shut and bringing his thumbnail up to his mouth.

‘I wonder,’ Roman murmured through a wide smile. It never failed to invigorate him when his charms effectively ensnared a cute boy. His cheekiness ran high on the excitement. ‘Now as much as I would truly love to stand here with you for as long as the hours in the day would allow, I do have a request of you.’

‘Uh… sure,’ Virgil mumbled around his thumbnail. He had recovered quickly from Roman’s flirting, though the colour was still high on his cheekbones, and Roman knew better than to think it was just from the warm weather. ‘What is it?’

‘I need your assistance in gathering the gayest selection of flowers possible.’

A sharp exhale blew from Virgil’s mouth, slightly muffled around the hand which still sat flush against his chin. It sounded partway between a sigh and a nervous laugh. ‘Care to elaborate?’

‘Anything for you, darling,’ Roman said in his smoothest baritone. His heart skipped at how Virgil’s fingers clenched tightly around the hem of his sleeve. ‘I’m a tattoo artist at Rainbow Skins Parlour - have you heard of it?’

Virgil’s eyes lit up beautifully and his hand dropped back to his side giving Roman a perfect view of those rose petal lips that enamoured him so. ‘Oh man, that’s so cool. My friend got her tat done with you. She said you guys were super accommodating of her dysphoria and stuff.’

‘That’s the aim,’ Roman beamed. He was immensely proud of the atmosphere he and his coworkers had created at the studio. Their mission was to create a safe space for those in the LGBT+ community who wanted to get inked and it seemed from all of the positive feedback they received that they had achieved that vision. ‘One of my clients wants a design full of flowers that symbolise gay love, so I came seeking a florist’s expertise.’

‘I dunno if Grandma is too hung up on the symbolism of the flowers, to be honest,’ Virgil said hesitantly, picking at his fingernails then folding his hands behind his back. ‘She’s more about the biology and aesthetics of it all.’

‘Well then lucky for me that Aphrodite blessed me with your glorious presence today.’ Roman settled to sit on the edge of the desk. It being quite low rise, his figure sunk slightly so that he was now directly eye-level with Virgil. The other man’s eyes did not leave Roman’s face. ‘You look like the poetic type.’

Green and brown eyes squinted suspiciously. ‘I bet my Grandma told you I studied creative writing.’

‘Even so,’ Roman shrugged and inched his foot along the wooden floor, letting the toes of his Vans bump against the heel of Virgil’s Doc Marten boot. Virgil did not move. ‘Am I correct in assuming you’ve done your fair bit of research into queer imagery?’

There was a pause wherein Virgil pouted and remained stubbornly silent. Then, after a few seconds: ‘You can’t go wrong with a green carnation.’

The tip of Roman’s tongue stuck out with a smile and he bit it lightly in amusement. Virgil’s cheeks went an endearing shade of dusty pink and he spun around, quite inelegantly bumping into the workbench that stood in the middle of the room. He grabbed a pair of faintly rusted shears with trembling fingers.

‘Uh, so we’ve got a few of those back here,’ Virgil blurted, rushing to the opposite corner of the shop floor.

Roman sauntered after him quietly. He peered over the other man’s shoulder as he pulled a large bushel from a bucket. The plant displayed a large, beautifully frilly bloom of lime green blossom.

A sharp, metallic snap from the shears resounded around the small room and the large bunch was lowered back to the water to leave a single flower held gently between Virgil’s slender fingers.

When Virgil turned back around, a quiet gasp escaped him as he bounced back, only just preventing himself from crashing right into Roman.

‘What, you couldn’t wait over there?’ If Virgil was trying to sound anything other than flustered and breathless, he had failed miserably.

Roman held his hand out wordlessly with a gentle smile.

The flower was pressed into his palm, and Roman made sure to capture it quickly enough to delicately brush his fingertips against Virgil’s.

In the dappled beam of sunlight that penetrated the packed floral displays in the window, the carnation was much the same shade as Virgil’s left eye. Roman hummed quietly as he inspected the flower, then looked up, delighted that Virgil was watching him.

‘Beautiful,’ Roman purred, unfaltering as he looked into Virgil’s eyes.

A loud snort of laughter cut the tension between them and Roman felt his brow furrow.

‘Okay, Romeo,’ Virgil huffed, shaking his head with a faint smirk. He avoided Roman’s eyes. ‘This is a fleuriste, not a fromagerie.’

Roman felt a thrill rush through him (which was only in part accredited to Virgil’s sudden fluent French accent). Apparently such simple flirting tactics would not suffice with this suitor. The promise of a slight challenge was electrifying to him. He did love to play this game.

He lifted the carnation and tucked it behind his ear like a pencil, smiling when Virgil giggled under his breath at what must have been a silly image. ‘What else may you suggest we add to our beau, gay bouquet?’

A few minutes passed by with Virgil selecting and snipping flowers, explaining the historical queer culture behind them as he went. Roman nodded along and dutifully made noises of interest, though did not dare to butt into Virgil’simpassioned monologue.

It was enchanting to hear Virgil ramble freely on a subject that so obviously enthralled him. He spoke in such a way that made even the most mundane facts feel visceral with descriptive language and Roman couldn’t bear to interrupt such eloquent poetic prose.

He only realised how little he himself had contributed to the conversation when Virgil trailed off with an apology.

A pile of evenly cut lavender, violets, gladioli, calla lilies and, of course, green carnations lay in front of Virgil on the workbench and his fingers fidgeted with some of the lilac petals gently.

‘Please, don’t apologise,’ Roman insisted. He stood opposite Virgil on the other side of the islanded workbench and leaned his elbows on the shabby surface, carefully staying clear of the gardening tools that were scattered around it. ‘You’re incredibly knowledgeable of this subject.’

‘Yeah, employing really subtle methods of representation kind of became my solace in university, you know?’ Virgil said faintly, his eyes fixed on where he weaved a long, detached flower stem between his fingers. ‘Being a paranoid, closeted creative writing student will do that to you.’

A cloud of dejection smothered the sunny atmosphere in the room.

‘Classic fairy tales were my own escape as a closeted teen,’ Roman offered, suspecting Virgil would not want such a heavy topic resting on his shoulders alone.

‘Oh, yeah?’ Virgil finally looked up with an eager intrigue dancing in his eyes.

Roman stretched his arm across the table so that Virgil could better see the tattoo that decorated his right arm upwards of his elbow. He rolled the short sleeve of his t-shirt up to his shoulder to reveal the whole of it. (If he flexed his arm slightly to better highlight his muscles, Virgil did not say anything about it.) He was immensely proud of the artwork on his arm, displaying a busy conglomeration of various fairy tale motifs all interwoven including a bitten red apple, a shattered glass slipper, and a frog wearing a crown. Though the focus of the design was a bird carrying a golden chain and a pair of red shoes, with a millstone around its neck.

‘Fuck yeah, The Juniper Tree,’ Virgil breathed.

‘You know it?’ Roman asked, surprised that Virgil had recognised the more nuanced imagery.

‘I love the Brothers Grimm.’ With a slight creak of the wood beneath him, Virgil sat sideways on the workbench and leaned to get a closer look at Roman’s arm. ‘I wouldn’t have taken you for a fan of more macabre stories.’

‘Well, I must admit in terms of imagery I appreciate the darker motifs,’ Roman indicated the depiction of a bloodied dagger hidden amongst a tangle of thorns on his bicep, ‘but when it comes to the stories I do prefer a good old-fashioned happy ending.’

Virgil sucked his teeth and leant his chin on his hand with a sigh, putting on an exaggerated air of disappointment. ‘Of course you do.’

‘Please, how could I not appreciate a handsome prince bursting into song and falling for a mysterious, beautiful stranger then doing everything in his power to woo them?’ Roman angled his body closer to Virgil. The edge of the workbench was pressed quite awkwardly into his thigh, but it was worth the slight numbness in his leg to watch Virgil’s eyelashes flutter and his chest rise and fall more quickly in response to how close they were. Roman purposefully allowed his eyes to linger over Virgil’s lips. ‘Doesn’t that remind you of someone?’

The lips pulled into a smirk and Roman’s gaze climbed up to see mirth sparkling in Virgil’s eyes.

‘What?’ Roman asked, only mildly offended.

It was proving to be something of a quest trying to ascertain which methods of flirting were working on Virgil. One minute the man was a blushing, stuttering mess, then the next he was openly laughing at Roman’s attempts to court him. Still, as the knights in his favourite stories never gave up in the face of extreme danger, he would not be deterred by Virgil’s stubbornness. It was obvious the man was interested in him but was perhaps a bit bratty. If anything that only made Roman all the more eager to win him over.

‘Nothing at all,’ Virgil shrugged. His tone was remarkably insincere. ‘So are you just thirsty for medieval knights or do you have some delusion of grandeur that I should steer clear of?’

It was cocky, and the man’s posture proclaimed it. He held his head high, baring his neck (and what a lovely, slender, pale, begging-to-be-decorated-with-splotches-of-purple neck it was). Though Roman saw through the bravado instantly.

He leaned in further, the edge of the bench completely cutting off the blood flow to his leg now, though he hardly cared. Virgil’s eyes darted between Roman’s gaze and the edges of the room hastily, as if the urge to look away and the urge to hold his ground were battling each other in his mind. His confident stance faltered slightly as Roman drew closer, their faces now mere inches apart.

Roman murmured lowly, ‘Why, Virgil? Are you struggling to find a reason to stay away from me?’

The once-pearly cheeks in front of him were now practically glowing pink.

The adrenaline that so often accompanied a successful courtship was running rampant in Roman’s veins and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Matched with the fact that he was practically drunk off of the lidded quality to Virgil’s gorgeous eyes, Roman almost missed the melodic jingling of a bell.

It wasn’t until a loud, cheery voice called out that Roman realised they were not alone anymore.

‘Kiddo, you forgot your packed lunch!’

Virgil scrambled off of the workbench, and Roman followed his lead by standing back upright, albeit a lot more calmly.

‘Dad, I’m with a customer,’ Virgil grumbled, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

Roman indulged in watching Virgil’s face go even pinker before turning to the entrance of the shop.

A stout man stepped out from the entranceway with a wide grin and a tupperware box cradled in his hands. His freckles were unmatched by either his mother or his son, though Roman could spy the slight similarities between their features. This was Patton Tempȇte. His face lit up with joy when his gaze fell on Roman.

‘And who’s this?’ Mr Tempȇte asked excitedly, his eyes sparkling at his son as he bounced on his toes.

‘Grandma’s friend, Roman Prince,’ Virgil mumbled. ‘The one who brings her tea and stuff.’

Mr Tempȇte made a delighted noise of surprise.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Tempȇte.’ Roman smiled widely, offering his open hand. He winced slightly as he stepped forward and pins and needles exploded in his thigh. ‘I truly adore your mother, and your son is quickly beginning to grow on me too.’ He shot a quick wink to Virgil.

The look of utter betrayal on Virgil’s face made it difficult to contain a chuckle.

‘It’s wonderful to meet you too, Roman!’ Mr Tempȇte beamed, shuffling the tupperware into the crook of his elbow to shake Roman’s hand energetically. ‘And don’t bother calling me “Mr” or “Sir” or any of that silliness, Patton’s my name so feel free to wear it out! I would give you a big old hug, but I don’t wanna pass on Maman’s flu.’

‘How is she?’ Roman immediately asked, truly concerned for his friend.

‘She’s just fine,’ Patton nodded, seeming to approve of Roman’s concern. ‘She’s pretty much through it all now, I’m just forcing her to stay home for a couple more days as a precaution.’

‘I can’t imagine she’s too thrilled about being housebound,’ Roman sniggered knowingly.

Patton rolled his eyes dramatically with a smile. ‘Not at all. I tell you, she’s untameable, always raring to get out with her friends and go experiencing the world. Honestly, I always say she’s more of a 22-year-old than Virgil is! Isn’t that true, kiddo?’

A faint swell of dread built inside Roman’s stomach at the way Mr Tempȇte had phrased those words. He had probably meant no harm, but it didn’t sound like that kind of critical comparison would do much to heighten Virgil’s confidence.

Sure enough, when Roman’s gaze flickered over to him it was clear those words seemed to have struck the wrong chord. The younger man tugged his sleeves further over his fingers and shrugged, though the movement was so stiff and frantic that it was more resemblant of a reflexive jolt.

‘Whatever, Dad,’ Virgil muttered under his breath, scowling at his feet.

It was disheartening to witness Virgil’s fiery wit be snuffed out so swiftly. Roman felt out of place in the exchange and feigned interest in a sprig of leaves in the flower pile. He subtly massaged his thigh under the table to ease the remnants of tingling from his pins and needles.

‘Oh…’ The energy was drained from Patton’s voice, and Roman looked up to see hurt briefly flash in his eyes before he plastered on a bright smile once more. ‘Well, I’ll be out of you guys’ hair. I just wanted to bring you your food.’

‘I don’t need a packed lunch, I can pick something up on the way back.’

‘Either way, it’s here if you get peckish before closing time.’ Patton placed the tupperware beside the register and apparently couldn’t resist drumming the lid in a gentle rhythm. Virgil groaned and Patton giggled. ‘Listen, be thankful I’m your delivery man. I caught your grandma lacing up her running shoes wanting to bring this to you.’

Roman chuckled lightly to himself. That certainly sounded like Céleste.

For the first time since Patton had entered the shop, Virgil looked up from the floor and his eyes locked onto Roman. It was as if his laughter had reminded Virgil of his presence.

Virgil quickly shot his father a pointed look. ‘Okay thanks, dad. Bye.’ The words merged into each other in his haste.

To his credit, Patton didn’t seem to be upset by his son’s eagerness to get rid of him.

‘It was lovely meeting you, Roman!’ Patton waved with a wide smile, already making his way out of the shop. ‘See you later, ma petite chauve-souris!’

Virgil’s huff of annoyance was drowned out by the bell jingling again.

The awkward tension was thick.

‘So, can you make flower arrangements?’ Roman asked casually, choosing to entirely ignore the stunted exchange with Virgil’s father. It seemed like Virgil would not have wanted to acknowledge it, given his obvious embarrassment.

��Um, not really,’ Virgil mumbled, still hugging himself tightly. He peered out from his fringe hesitantly and Roman did not miss how his body relaxed when their eyes met. ‘I mean - okay, yeah. Kind of,’ he corrected. ‘Grandma taught me a little bit when I was younger. Mainly I just do it for fun, though. I’ve never made one for a customer.’

It would have been responsible for Roman to simply take his flowers as they were, pay for them, and get back to work, leaving Virgil to do his job. He could even have left his number and hoped Virgil would have the confidence to text him later on. Though, looking at the slump of Virgil’s posture and the way his sleeves were clawed and pulled taut by his painted fingernails, Roman felt a desire, nay, a duty to ensure Virgil was smiling again before he left.

‘Fancy trying your hand at it?’ Roman suggested gently, not wanting to pressure the man who was clearly on edge.

Virgil’s gaze flitted between Roman’s face and the workbench. His fingertips danced on his sleeves as he considered the flowers and Roman realised he was itching to reach out and touch them. ‘I can try, I guess.’

Hesitant hands pulled away from purple sleeves and within seconds Virgil was rustling through the stems with intent. Roman leaned over the surface slightly, though with no sly objective in mind to fluster Virgil this time. He simply wished to watch him craft.

‘I’m not very good,’ Virgil said quite stunted, even as he started rearranging the flowers into colour-coordinated piles with a clear artistic goal in mind. ‘So, you know, don’t expect much.’

Roman knew the self-deprecating tactic well; how one hoped that by lowering everyone’s expectations, they could avoid harsh critique of their work. He had employed it plenty of times himself before he had grown more confident in his artistic abilities.

‘It doesn’t have to be perfect,’ Roman decided on saying. It would hopefully relieve the pressure Virgil had put on himself.

A small smile tugged at Virgil’s lips and he raised his eyes briefly from the flowers to send what seemed to be a look of thanks to Roman.

‘Besides, I trust that you have an artistic streak in you.’ Roman felt more comfortable in reigniting their previous flirtatiousness after having coaxed a smile out of Virgil. ‘I mean, with such a steady hand and aesthetic eye for that makeup, I’ll be lucky if the bouquet is half as beautiful.’

Virgil swiftly knelt down on the floor to reach under the bench - where Céleste kept the floral foam, Roman remembered - though Roman caught a glimpse of a wide smile and pink-dusted cheekbones before his face was hidden.

‘Basket or pot?’ Virgil called up from the floor.

Roman dropped to his knees and sent Virgil a bright smile underneath the table. ‘Whatever you want. I’m giving you full creative control.’

‘Risky move.’ Virgil raised his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk. ‘Our most expensive arrangements can rake up to one-hundred-and-fifty quid.’

‘All right, full creative control as long as it’s under forty pounds.’

Time went by fluidly from then on as they chatted over Virgil’s work. His flower placements were tentative at first, and his eyes kept darting up to check Roman’s face for a reaction, but Roman only ever smiled lightly and continued the conversation. (A couple of times his text tone rang out loudly, though their talking remained unfettered by the mild interruptions.)

Eventually, Virgil became more certain of his decisions and was tapping into skills Roman was wholly unprepared for. His slender hand pulled a leaf stripper swiftly down long stems with practised ease, he shuffled the flowers around between his fingers fluidly and his features smoothed as he lowered the blooms into their rightful places in the arrangement.

Roman had no idea how long he had been in the florist by the time Virgil finally deemed the display finished, but he could hardly bring himself to care. The bunch of flowers which were already such a beautiful collection before were now a piece of art, the lilac and emerald blossoms broken up by leafy ferns and surrounded by spindly branches of waxflower. The bouquet was truly stunning.

And as for the glow of pride on Virgil’s face? Absolutely breathtaking.

‘I think I’m happy with it,’ Virgil said nonchalantly, though the excitement hidden behind his tone rang loudly in Roman’s ears.

‘This is amazing, Virgil,’ he gushed, entirely sincere. ‘You’re a natural!’

Virgil bit his lip, stifling what Roman knew would have been a bright grin. He notably did not refuse the compliment.

‘Um, do you mind if I…’ Virgil brought his phone out from his pocket and opened the camera app, showing the screen to Roman with an eyebrow raised in question. ‘Kinda wanna show Grandma later,’ he admitted with a shy smile.

‘Of course,’ Roman held his hands out to the arrangement in invitation and stepped back so that he would not interrupt the photoshoot.

He watched from the sidelines as Virgil tiptoed around the workbench to find good angles, taking a few pictures of his work. Once the phone was placed back in his pocket, he turned back to Roman with a lopsided smile. ‘Thank you.’

Roman was fully and wholeheartedly smitten.

‘Don’t thank me before I’ve paid.’ Roman took his wallet out and waved it with a mock-frown of disapproval. For all of his years of acting classes, though, he could not wipe the smile off of his face. ‘That’s not a very sound business practice.’

Virgil shook his head lightly but moved back to the front desk carrying the arrangement with him. He rang up the numbers on the mechanical till quickly and Roman paid with a soft smile.

‘So,’ Roman said after Virgil had given him his hand-written receipt. He leaned toward Virgil slightly and delighted in the way Virgil mirrored him, bringing them even closer. ‘I don’t suppose a mysterious, beautiful stranger such as yourself would want to -’

Primadonna by MARINA suddenly blared from Roman’s pocket.

He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling a blush stain his cheeks. Though his smile still did not falter.

‘Very fitting ringtone,’ Virgil teased, his voice strained with concealed laughter.

Roman opened his eyes and sent a weak glare to Virgil even as his cheeks ached from smiling so much. He took his phone from his pocket to silence it, seeing that it was Remy’s contact flashing up on the screen - then his expression finally dropped as he saw the time.

‘Oh, fuck!’ His next client was due in five minutes.

‘You okay?’ Virgil asked shakily, clearly anxious by the sudden shift in mood.

‘Everything’s okay,’ Roman quickly assured, ‘but I really have to go, I’m running late.’ He shoved his phone, wallet and receipt into his pockets and pulled the flower arrangement to his chest protectively.

Virgil had stiffened. Evidently his defences were rising again due to the sudden change.

‘I really do have to go, I’m sorry. Seriously,’ Roman paused with a sigh as he gazed over Virgil’s beautiful face once more, ‘you have no idea how sorry.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Virgil nodded in agreement, but his voice was as quiet as it had been when Roman first came in however long ago. His disappointment was painfully obvious.

‘I’ll be back later this week,’ Roman promised as he reluctantly made his way to the door. There was absolutely no reality where Roman would not come looking for this enigmatic emo again. ‘I look forward to seeing you soon, my chemical romance!’ The doorbell jingled overhead as he rushed out of the door and called behind him, ‘Give my best to Céleste!’

Roman darted through the streets with a sharp stab of regret piercing his chest, though he really could not have afforded to indulge his infatuation much longer. He was a professional artist, he had to be back in time for his client.

Being incredibly protective over his cherished flower arrangement, Roman made it back to the studio in record time. It was not the first instance in which his high stamina had saved him face.

Panting for breath, Roman peered into the front window of the parlour and winced at the look of rage on the receptionist’s face as he sent a choice hand gesture to Roman from the other side of the glass.

‘Get your arse in here, Prince!’ Remy’s muffled yell met his ears.

Accepting that he would have to make a Starbucks run later to make up for his tardiness, Roman shuffled over to the glass door. He cradled Virgil’s arrangement in one arm as he reached for the door handle, then paused.

In his reflection, he noticed the green carnation from earlier still sat behind his ear. It looked utterly ridiculous. He had apparently been running around town with a massive green flower protruding from the side of his head.

In any other circumstance, he would have felt embarrassed. But the memory of Virgil’s huffy giggles played in his head, and all Roman could feel was giddy.

He pushed into the parlour with a wide grin that quite probably made him look like even more of a fool.

He didn’t care.

oOo

Inspired by a prompt from @writersmonth

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

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#my writing #prinxiety #prinxiety au #prinxiety fanfic #ts roman #ts virgil #ts fic #ts fanfic #writersmonth2020

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thescorpioracer · 4 years ago

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Sen Çal Kapımı 1 - Episode Recap

To be honest, this series of posts is mostly going to be a fashion roast. But DISCLAIMER! I really do love this show and Turkish TV in general, it’s just my preferred mode of media analysis is to pick things apart. 😂And I need everyone to know that I am very pro-women, and believe people should be able to dress how they want and not be judged for it or be looked down upon for it. But oh my god this wardrobe department/costumer needs to be STOPPED. I also have zero credentials to be talking about fashion, but will that stop me?

I’m going to make these posts assuming you’ve watched the show, and just comment on whatever comes up. There will be spoilers. Let’s go!

We start off with a voiceover from Eda Yıldız, an A+ romcom trope. (It wasn’t until my rewatch that I remembered that Eda used to do VOs at random intervals, and I’m kind of glad she stopped tbh.) She is a strong woman who wants to get her education and become a landscape architect/designer. She was all set to do that until- dun dun dun! - Serkan Bolat destroyed everything.

Check out that dart board of a man (and this is the only time we see that photo there). And these outfits are probably the most normal and reasonable clothes she wears in the show. She’s a beautiful young woman, who was a college student, and now works outdoors as a florist. 10/10 outfit.

Of course that transitions us into an epic slomo of Serkan exiting his private jet. He of course begins to berate his assistant on the phone in a way a friend described as reminiscent of The Devil Wears Prada.

@teamnick‘s commentary back when she first started the show.

Serkan returns to his office for the first time in 2 months after working on business deals in London. Chaos ensues: Miranda Priestly is baaaaaaack.

See... here we have some good fashion choices! We meet the girls for the first time, while they try to sneak off to their graduation without making Eda feel bad that she won’t be receiving her diploma. Melek “Melo” is dressed in a sweet dress with a bold, romantic color, which captures her personality perfectly. Ceren, the rich daughter from a family of lawyers, looks a bit more high-fashion. The dress is short but it has long sleeves and no cleavage so it works out to be chic and elegant. Fifi is unapologetically herself with her full-black, punk wardrobe. Eda is again dressed in a pretty, but casual outfit. Nicely put together for her lower-middle-class lifestyle and her job as a florist.

Enter: the plot device to get our protagonists together. Serkan’s face says it all.

We are then introduced to the main couple’s respective cars. Serkan has his 2020 BMW (though the show blocks out the copyrighted branding) while Eda’s beat up SUV is clearly unreliable. What’s that? Another plot device being introduced? I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Also, I just noticed this, but for someone as uptight as Serkan, I’m surprised at how fun his suit jacket lining is. If I’m not mistaken the pattern is of a bunch of rainbow fish. #Snazzy, but they seem out of character?

Plot highlights:

Eda learns she can come back to school and finish her final year, but she’s lost her scholarship and will have to pay. She can’t.

Serkan gives his talk at the graduation (?)-- Is his talk just for architecture students? If so, why are Ceren, Fifi, and Melo there? We’ll never know. I know, I know... it’s all for the ~plot~

Eda calls Serkan out in front of everyone for taking away the scholarship that she earned from his company, Art Life. He is confused but unrepentant. She refuses to tell him her name.

She tries to deface his car with lipstick after keying the side (we never hear about the damage to his car after that). He catches her and wants to call the police, so she impulsively handcuffs them together with the plot devices from Selin’s wedding invitation sitting on his passenger seat.

They then have to go to Serkan’s urgent business meeting with an out-of-town client. Eda drives while they’re handcuffed together. Bickering ensues.

What is this? Foreshadowing? Symbolism?? Eda’s last name “Yıldız” is the Turkish word for “star” so... file that away for later.

One of my favorite parts about watching Turkish dramas is the experience of trying to decipher the fan translations. Add to the fact that Turkish only has 1 pronoun *chef’s kiss*

Eda refuses to take the elevator to the 15th floor (we’ll learn about her claustrophobia later). Serkan is equally as stubborn, saying she owes him for screwing up his day. But he has met his match in Eda with regards to stubbornness. They take the stairs.

More highlights:

First instance of fake dating - they need to hide the handcuffs from his client so Eda pretends she’s his girlfriend and a fellow investor.

The girls track Eda’s phone to the hotel and try to find her by asking around the premises.

Eda charms the client into selling his land to Serkan.

We learn that Serkan is allergic to strawberries and has a lot of health anxiety. He’s a very tightly wound person.

Serkan says “Mashallah,” translator hears 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Engin brings way too many people to open the handcuffs and chaos ensues.

I feel like nothing can do justice to the comedy of 58:45 to 1:00:00 with Fifi using a bobby pin as a lock pick. The dramatic editing is 👌🏼

Leyla gets fired for somehow causing this drama??? And she is so happy to leave that stressful workplace omg, we don’t deserve her 🥺

Serkan and Eda go their separate ways, Eda prepared to never see her enemy again, but of course her phone and purse are still in his car so she has to go to his office at Art Life and confront him again.

Serkan has found out that Whoops, Art Life did cancel the study abroad scholarships to cut costs, but his CFO did it without telling him. And Serkan is pissed, but I think mainly about the fact that Eda did have some (SOME) grounds for yelling at him in public.

Leyla then explains the nonsensical reasoning behind her being fired-but-not-fired and still working. (Spoiler alert: she never goes anywhere and she is my favorite side character to this day).

Eda: “How can I piss Serkan off?” Leyla: “Find a mistake he’s made and he will fixate on it forever. But you won’t find anything.” Eda: “Hold my beer.”

Eda walks into Serkan’s office and his meeting. She gets her purse back and they fight about him not being willing to apologize for ruining her life and education. He refuses and says she owes him an apology for embarrassing him in public (no, dude).

He wants to give her back the scholarship and make it all go away but she rightly tells him that it won’t fix her broken pride from begging the company and her university for a second chance. But somehow her calling him a heartless “Robot” is what gets to him???? And he short-circuits. Eda walks out triumphant.

~dRaMa!~

MEANWHILE

Melo, as well as being a perfume sales girl, also works as a flight attendant and wants Eda to cover her shift (we’ll get into how that doesn’t make sense in a minute)

Eda says no, she’s going to meet her boyfriend, Cenk, who she hasn’t seen in months and has just returned from Italy.

Enter: Selin. Serkan’s ex who he dumped a while ago and is now engaged to the heir of a hotel empire. Serkan doesn’t like this. The two of them grew up together and are set to each inherit 50% of the holding company that Serkan’s father currently runs.

Right away Selin serves us with a gender reveal level color scheme. Personally not a fan. They confirm that Serkan is coming to her engagement party tomorrow.

Meanwhile Eda meets up with Cenk. Her outfit is still reasonable and cute for her character. He looks mildly like a hobo and doesn’t seem to have anything going for him (I know he’s a throwaway character but the two of them really don’t have anything in common).

This creeper keeps staring at them, but Cenk tries to explain it away and says he’s busy and can’t meet her again until the day after tomorrow. Eda is disappointed but accepts this. Creeper girl remains and remains a red flag to viewers, but apparently not to Eda.

Cut to later that evening, and of course our broody main man enjoys astronomy in his free time (???) idk what he’s charting and to what purpose but okay?

Eda finds a mini first aid kit in her purse that Serkan put there before returning it. Queue montage of them treating their respective wrists for handcuff-related injuries. #couplegoals

Of course we also needed a sepia-toned flashback to earlier that day when the handcuffs contrived their faces to get too close together. #romance

Finallyyyyyyy it’s morning again and a new day.

Since Eda can’t see Cenk (good, he’s so boring), she agrees to fill in as a flight attendant for Melo, who’s side job is for a private plane company.

Now. This should not be a thing. Eda was in college to be a landscape architect and now works as a florist for her aunt... Where has she learned any relevant skills to work as a flight attendant?? Presumably nowhere. And I really don’t think a private plane company would be so easygoing about just having a random person fill in to cover for her friend?

But does this show care about that? What do you think...

Also, instead of the standard white shirt, black skirt uniform requirements, the girls decide that this skimpy dress and heels is fine? Hmmm

Also lol @ Melo for assuming that the client who wants jasmine tea and fruit salad is probably a woman. And her telling Eda that the PRIVATE JET COMPANY would in fact have its own tea was very random and unnecessary.

Back at the Bolat house compound, we meet the parents: Aydan and Alptekin. We’ll see them again later. Selin’s engagement party is today.

Meanwhile Eda is just.... being a flight attendant, I guess??? And who could possibly be the passenger she has to take care of? Take a wild guess. Of course it’s Serkan Bolat.

And of course that tiny dress (THAT ALSO HAS A LEG SLIT?? WHY?? I really don’t need to see her vagina) looks very practical and professional... not! (Hande Erçel is a gorgeous human, and the dress looks good on her, don’t get me wrong. BUT THIS IS SITUATIONALLY INCORRECT ATTIRE). Also him just folding his vest and then social distancing from it... K? 😂

Eda panics and doesn’t want Serkan to see her and runs away back to her seat pod thing - Serkan takes issue with his fruit salad for ~plot reasons~ (EDIT: I’ve been informed that it’s because there was a strawberry in his fruit salad and since he’s allergic, of course it needed to be fixed. Why doesn’t the plane have a note of that??) and comes back to find this mystery flight attendant.

Eda is very stressed out about this encounter and is also starting to have a panic attack because, surprise, she’s also claustrophobic.

After Serkan calms her down, they have a cute/civil conversation for the rest of the flight.

When they land, Eda realizes they’re on an island 2h45min away from Istanbul and she isn’t sure what to do with herself (How did she not already know where they were going, as the FLIGHT ATTENDANT??? So may red flags with this private jet company).

Serkan convinces Eda to come with him and she can hang out at the beach while he’s at Selin’s engagement party.

At the engagement party we finally meet Selin’s fiancé Ferit. He’s sweet and non-threatening and clearly insecure about Serkan being Selin’s ex.

This dress/skirt outfit Selin is wearing isn’t terrible, but it doesn’t scream rich socialite to me. Anything with feathers seems... a bit tacky/too showy? Like someone pretending to be rich? Idk, this outfit isn’t one I’m going to really take a stand on.

Does this engagement party warrant being a 2h45 min flight away? No. They try to explain it away as the couple wanting to have something small and private, even though they also invite the press?? But okay whatever, as long as Serkan and Eda cross paths again, I suppose.

Kaan Karadağ has been mentioned a couple times in passing, but now we finally meet our “villain.” Ferit’s friend, and Serkan & Selin’s childhood acquaintance, who has it out for Serkan bc he somehow bankrupted Kaan’s dad? Idk and I don’t really care but tl;dr they’re enemies.

Another thing I love about Turkish dramas is the censoring. Like, they’ll allow alcohol to be on screen, but they won’t say the word and they’ll just blur out the bottle and any liquid that we’d assume is alcoholic 😂

In the evening, Serkan is tired and wants to leave and Ferit snidely jokes about how Serkan is too picky to have a fiancé of his own. Serkan flashes back to 1 entire day ago when he and Eda pretended to be dating at his business meeting, and says that actually he is engaged to someone and then peaces out.

Serkan finds Eda on the beach, and they are preparing to leave when a crowd of people (Selin, Ferit, and Kaan mainly), arrive to get a peek at Serkan’s new “fiancé.” Eda very reluctantly plays along (good thing she has that unnecessarily sexy “work” dress to help her look the part) and Serkan notices that for the first time ever, Selin is jealous of another woman. #drama

After they finally escape the crowd, Serkan makes an annoyed Eda an offer: Pretend to be his fiancé for the 2 months leading up to Selin’s wedding so he can get them to break up and prevent Ferit marrying into the company. In return, he will pay all the fees to help her complete her last year of studies in Italy.

Eda refuses, stating that she doesn’t want anything from him, and besides she has a boyfriend (Sure Jan; Cenk is such a joke). They have it out and then fly back to Istanbul. But of course the gossips at the engagement have spread the news of Serkan’s new woman so the paparazzi corner them at the airport when they land.

So glad that we got to see this random mechanic find out the news (???)

They escape the cameras and Serkan takes her home, saying that Art Life has a press conference tomorrow, and she should come so he can save face and tell everyone that she was his assistant accompanying him for work to the party. Eda agrees.

It should also be mentioned that Serkan still doesn’t know her name at this point?? She refused to tell him and Engin still hasn’t sent him the names of the scholarship candidates so it’s a bit miraculous that their relationship was at all believable.

The next day, Cenk wants to meet but Eda has to go to the press conference. The girls come too for whatever reason, and Melo is convinced that Cenk wants to propose. Eda just lets that fantasy take hold (why tho?), and Cenk shows up unexpectedly right before the press conference and takes Eda into the nearby hotel’s cafe so they can talk.

Eda seems ready for a proposal (they haven’t seen each other or really communicated in months??) but Cenk wants to break up. Eda is shocked (???) but then Cenk mentions that he has a new girlfriend from Italy that he adores, and oh by the way, it’s the creepy girl from the other night who also happens to be here right now?

Okay fine, I guess??? Cenk: “She’s doesn’t speak Turkish” Girlfriend: *clearly a Turkish actress*

Eda is upset that he brought his jealous girlfriend with him to break up with her and says something about how actually, she’s seeing Serkan Bolat now (maybe it’s just me being someone who doesn’t follow tabloids, but are business people really that popular in every day society where everyone knows who they are?). Cenk laughs at Eda, saying that everyone wants to be with Serkan Bolat, and that she’s bluffing.

Eda makes an impulsive decision, and walks away, over to where Serkan has started the press conference. And seals their fate as fake dating in the public eye.

Queue confetti. No really.

And there we have it. That’s the episode!

In all seriousness, it’s a pretty great pilot, especially for a romcom. It hits all the right beats, includes enough tropes, and tells us a lot about what we should expect in the episodes going forward. And no matter how much I make fun of it, I really do enjoy this show! It’s been such a nice distraction from Current Events. I’ve spent a lot of time watching these episodes just saying “oh my god” out loud to myself as I watch all of the cute/romantic gestures that give me a lot of second hand embarrassment (I forget that PDA makes me kinda uncomfortable 😂).

There wasn’t actually that much terrible fashion in this episode, which I didn’t notice until my rewatch. If I continue with this series of posts, I’m hoping they’ll end up being less plot-centric, and more about the situationally inappropriate outfits and strange subtitling choices.

See you next time?

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shannendoherty-fans · 4 years ago

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Shannen in Love

People, 11th October 1993

By Tom Gliatto

Nobody Does It Quicker: Apparently on the Spur of An Unguarded Moment, Volatile 90210 Star Shannen Doherty, 22, Weds Ashley Hamilton, 19

No question that Shannen Doherty, 22, volatile, voluble Hollywood wild child, has had a headline year or so. There was her engagement to Chicago real-estate manager Chris Foufas, later canceled. A much-publicized bar fight with a wannabe actress, Bonita Money. A threatened eviction by her landlord, who claimed she had skipped on $11,000 in rent. And most memorably, a plea for court-ordered protection by her subsequent ex-fiancé, Dean Factor, who charged she had pulled a gun on him and "threatened to hire a few guys to beat me and to sodomize me" on his front lawn. What, possibly, could Doherty do for an encore?

How about a spur-of-the-moment, no-parents-invited, B.Y.O.B. wedding to a guy she had known for two weeks? On Sept. 24, Beverly Hills, 90210's unpredictable star married her brand-new boyfriend, Ashley Hamilton, 19, the son of actor George Hamilton and his first wife, Alana Stewart, in the backyard of her rented Santa Monica Mountain home. Details are sketchy, but so, apparently, was the ceremony. Close friends and family, most of whom were not asked to share the moment, seemed stunned. Shannen's mother, Rosa Doherty, a beauty-salon manager who lives in Los Angeles, said simply that she and her husband, Tom, a mortgage consultant, were happy as long as Shannen was happy. "Shannen wanted to keep it private and personal," she said. "That's all I want to say."

Others were perhaps more candid. "I have no idea why he would do this," said one of Hamilton's friends. "It's beyond my wildest thoughts. I don't know where this came from."

At first, there was even speculation concerning whether the marriage was legal. "It happened too fast," says Doherty's ex-fiancé Foufas. "I wondered if anyone verified it, if there is a confirmed marriage license." (In fact, says Doherty's publicist, Stan Rosenfield, there is.) Doherty herself sidestepped the issue, flying with Hamilton to New York City on Sunday night to host the Oct. 2 edition of Saturday Night Live. At LAX, in front of a posse of reporters, Hamilton conspicuously played with a gold band on his wedding finger. But Doherty's only comment to the press was a snappish "It's none of your business."

Whatever it was, it started with flowers. On Friday morning, Sept. 24, Shannen called her favorite florist in Los Angeles's Brentwood section. She placed a last-minute request for that evening: six separate arrangements of sunflowers and while flowers mixed. The occasion, the florist says he was told, was that "she was having some guests up."

That same day. she reported to work on the set of 90210. During a break, Doherty approached an art department staffer and asked him to come by that night and help decorate her backyard—for her wedding. "Boy, that was fast," gasped the crew member, who, like others on the set, was aware that Doherty had only begun dating Hamilton within the past month.

"Yeah," Doherty answered, "I just found out this morning."

[On September 26th, Doherty and Hamilton waited together — when not dodging press together — at the L.A. airport for their flight to New York City.]

By sundown, word had somehow zipped through town, and a dozen reporters had staked out Doherty's house on Mulholland Drive. By 9 p.m. a handful of guests arrived and drifted in through the front gates. It was a twentysomething L.A. crowd, from casual to grungy, toting six-packs and snack material. A white wedding cake was carried in atop a cardboard box. None of her 90210 regular castmates appeared—not even Doherty's closest friend, Tori Spelling.

As the assembled few watched, Hamilton and Doherty—who was barefoot and wearing a silk bathrobe—made their way through the backyard along a pathway of burning tiki torches, past bushes draped with twinkling lights and a swimming pool whose rippled surface was speckled with floating candles and sunflowers. "It was kind of a midnight Polynesian thing," says one source. The procession concluded, vows were exchanged, and then, according to Doherty publicist Rosenfield, the couple signed their marriage license in the presence of a notary public.

Yet even with the nuptials concluded, questions remained. Why the rush? Why B.Y.O.B.? Why was that cake so conspicuously exposed to the news cameras? (According to the decorator from 90210, Doherty had no food or drink, except for filtered tap water, on hand for her guests.) Why didn't the couple invite family members or many of their friends? Hamilton père, whose marriage to first wife Alana ended amicably in 1976, just laughed when he talked to longtime Daily Variety Hollywood columnist Army Archerd the following Monday. "I never told my parents when I was married," he said of his wedding to Alana. But Alana, in Texas for a high school reunion, was said to be furious at the turn of events involving her son.

What was known was that the 6'3", 190-lb. Hamilton, a fixture on young Hollywood's party scene, had moved in with Doherty right after meeting her. Until very recently, Shannen had been seeing actor Judd Nelson, 33; interestingly enough, it was through Nelson that she met his friend Hamilton. "I hear that friendship ended," says a Hamilton pal. A friend of Doherty's speculated that, furious over her breakup with Nelson three weeks ago. Shannen impetuously threw herself at Hamilton. Indeed, one 90210 staffer claims that, a week before the wedding, Doherty drove to Las Vegas to see Nelson, who was supposedly there with a former girlfriend.

Others saw the marriage as just another typically bizarre Doherty episode. "This is in the vein of Shannen's wacky life," says one 90210 source. "She's so impulsive." Ex-fiancé Foufas, who talked to Doherty the night before the wedding but was given no hint of it, suggested that the marriage might well be a play for attention on Doherty's part: "You know, she might have thought, 'How can I slump the press now?' " Or, he muses, she might just be looking for a little excitement. "Look at it this way," he says. "Five days a week you get up early and go to the studio until 9 at night. You have no life except what producers make of it. It's possible that they are just two people who are bored. I know that Shannen is bored."

In short, this relationship, all of two weeks old, has the earmarks of the peculiar tango—one two three, one two three, tabloid headline aaaaaand DIP!—the public has come to expect of Doherty and her significant others. But Ashley, who recently completed a stint at a Los Angeles drug rehab clinic, is no stranger to trouble himself. A dyslexic who was enrolled in a special-educational program, Hamilton has said he always hated school. "I spent a lot of time in the principal's office," he said. He graduated from high school in 1991, determined to make a career in showbiz as an actor or a director. In December he will appear in Beethoven's 2nd (the sequel to the hit coined) about a Saint Bernard. A self-described rebel who loves motorcycles, he was involved last year in a near-fatal accident that left him bedridden for two months with 300 stitches in his head.

With his height and dark good looks, he has always appeared more mature than he is. "He does seem older," his mother, Alana, told PEOPLE this year, when he was included in the ranks of 1993's 50 Most Beautiful People. Growing up, she said, "he always hung around older kids." (Plus, he got to grow up in the same household as British rock and roll star Rod Stewart, who was married to Alana from 1979 to 1984.) The same kind of age gap is true of his love life. Before Doherty, he dated actress Claire Stansfield, 28, for more than a year. Summing up their age difference, Stansfield once said. "I had to make him realize Eric Clapton did something before MTV Unplugged."

Today, Stansfield, who spoke to Hamilton by phone soon after the wedding, says she is genuinely happy for the couple. "I think they're perfect for each other,' " she says. "It was funny saying to Ashley, 'Where's your wife?' He said she was in the other room."

Another person who has long been close to the Hamilton family is far less sanguine. "How could he do that and not tell his parents?" she asks. "If he would do that, he no longer is the Ashley I know." In any event, she says with a sigh, "maybe Shannen will make a man of him. Because he's still a boy."

As for Doherty, her friends hope for her were perhaps summed up by Foufas, who nearly married her himself just over a year ago. "All I care about is Shannen being happy," he says. "I don't think she's been a happy person."

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jemelle · 4 years ago

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these are ties that bind (8/8)

fandom: criminal minds

rating: t

(chapter) word count: 1,465

story masterlist / all writing

you can also find this story on ao3!

summary: emily and hotch must pretend to be in a long-term relationship in order to foster carrie. shenanigans and serious conversations alike ensue. this chapter: two years later, a perfect summer evening.

a/n: when I started this fic in march, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into. eight months and 50(!) pages later, here we are, and it has been such a pleasure to get to tell this story. thank you so much to everyone who has given tattb a chance. i’m endlessly grateful for your likes, reblogs, and especially your kind words.

this final chapter is lovingly dedicated to my sibling for beta-ing, to @ssa-lesbian for being there since day 1, and to @robins-gf for endlessly hyping this fic <3

epilogue.

The string lights Emily had hung made the backyard look like something out of a fairytale. The guests mingled together, drinking homemade punch and eating food from the grill Aaron was carefully tending.

It was a warm evening in August, a few days before Carrie’s eighteenth birthday. The air was humid and the occasional mosquito buzzed around the edges of the party. From the kitchen window, Emily could see Penelope and Spencer swaying slightly to the music while JJ and Morgan fought over a football that had appeared seemingly out of thin air. Rossi sat in a deck chair, watching the proceedings with an amused look on his face, while Will sat beside him, cradling Henry in his arms. Even Jordan was here, making conversation with Aaron as he slid burgers into buns.

True to Emily’s prediction, Penelope had been the first to figure them out. She swore she’d never tell how she connected the dots, but Emily suspected that Penelope regularly checked in on all of them in less than legal ways. Once Penelope knew, their cover was all but blown, so Hotch had convened an all-team meeting to break the news.

He and Emily had told them the story straight, so to speak. The team understood that they weren’t really in love, but neither Emily nor Aaron felt that coming out was necessary for the story. Emily had come out the next year anyway, telling everyone as they sat around a crowded booth in the same bar where she had first told JJ. Aaron, for his part, he had reassured Emily that he was content with just being out to her.

Two years later, Emily thought that they were doing pretty well. Not every day was easy, of course. Sometimes Aaron snapped and Emily swore and Carrie sulked and Jack sobbed, but those days were few and far between. More often, there were sad days, because nothing would ever really heal what had happened to Carrie. On sad days Emily or Aaron begged off work, watching terrible movies with Carrie until she had cried herself out.

Every year, the three of them flew out to Denver to visit Carrie’s family. The old lady who ran the florist nearest to the cemetery knew when to expect them by now, and Emily’s perfunctory refusal to accept the flowers she insisted on providing free of charge had become something of a routine. Carrie liked to visit the cemetery alone, and she often sat there for hours, seemingly lost in thought. After she was finished, she and Emily and Aaron would go visit her old friends, the ones who had turned up for her when she had expected to be most alone.

There was always a little part of Emily that was scared Carrie would leave them. She would decide that Denver was still her real home, or that she wanted to live closer to her aunt and uncle in Phoenix. Emily had long since promised herself that she would support Carrie in whatever she wanted to do, but that wouldn’t lessen the sting. Nothing like that had ever come to pass, but in less than a month, Carrie would be heading off to college.

Emily knew that Carrie’s parents had emphasized the importance of college, and that she had been fighting with them about it the night they had died. When she first came to live with them, Carrie had wanted to re-join all the activities her parents had encouraged. It had taken time and a lot of therapy, but eventually she had realized that straying from her parent’s wishes wasn’t a betrayal, not when what they had wanted most was for her and Danny to be happy.

When the time came for Carrie to apply to college, Emily and Aaron made sure she understood that they would be proud of her no matter where she went. In the end, Carrie had chosen the University of Virginia, promising to make the two-hour journey home often. Still, it would be strange to not have her around every day. Emily had gotten used to her snark and sincerity, the way she cut right to the truth every time.

Tonight, Carrie was standing in a corner, Haley by her side, both of them watching over Jack. Emily and Haley would never be the best of friends, but they had long since formed a truce, recognizing that they both wanted the best for their strange little family. Haley loved Jack, that much was obvious, and she treated Carrie like the big sister Jack had never had. She was happy to take them both when cases ran long, though Emily secretly suspected that was because Carrie was able to calm down Jack better than anyone.

Leaving the house, Emily made her way over to the snack table, setting down the bowl of pretzels she had been carrying. When she looked up, Haley was motioning her over, gesturing at her empty cup and then Jack in turn. As Emily reached their corner of the yard, Haley headed off to refill her drink, leaving Emily and Carrie to monitor Jack.

Without warning, Emily was overcome by a wave of emotion. This life still felt like a dream sometimes. Past Emily would never have believed that this was where her life would end up. After Italy, she had been so angry, and after Declan, so resigned. In her lowest moments, she had told herself that she would never deserve a family. Emily knew now that she had been wrong, that she deserved to love and be loved. She also knew how exceptionally lucky she was to have found this family.

“I love you, you know that?” Emily said, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the party. If she looked at Carrie, there was a good chance she would cry. If anything could ruin the joyful mood of this evening, that would be it, even if the tears came only from a place of happiness.

“I know,” Carrie said, no trace of sarcasm in her voice. She took a slow sip out of the cup in her hand. In her periphery, Emily saw a single tear fall down Carrie’s cheek. “I know.”

When Haley came back, new drink in hand, neither Emily nor Carrie had looked at each other. She gave them a strange look before striking up a conversation with Carrie about what she wanted to study in college.

Emily bid them adieu and headed towards Aaron, the adoption papers burning a hole in her back pocket. They had applied for them months ago, but the envelope had only arrived a few days ago. Emily had snatched the letter from the mail as soon as it arrived, hiding it among her paperwork. The plan was to give them to Carrie on her birthday and let her make a decision about what she wanted.

Unlike the thought of Carrie leaving, this decision didn’t feel Emily with dread. No matter what she chose, Carrie would always have them to come home to.

She reached Aaron as he was finishing up making dinner, flipping the last of the burgers and sliding them into perfectly toasted buns. At his call, the guests flocked to the table, Spencer and Penelope almost tripping over each other in their haste to get food. After grabbing a plate, they dispersed once more, leaving only Emily and Aaron by the grill.

A few months ago, JJ had asked Emily if she and Aaron would stay married after Carrie turned eighteen. Until JJ had asked, Emily hadn’t considered the possibility they wouldn’t, which she supposed was answer enough. That thought process would have been unthinkable two years ago, when begrudging respect was the only thing keeping them together.

They stood next to each other as they ate, watching the future they had built together. The lines around Aaron’s eyes were softer now than they had been two years ago, and he smiled more, though he was still tough-as-nails Hotch when he needed to be. At the end of a long day, or a tough case, the thing Emily looked forward to most was his companionship. He would sit with her at the kitchen table, or rope Carrie and Jack into a game of pictionary, somehow always anticipating what she needed. When she woke up thrashing, he was there, and when he couldn’t sleep, she sat up with him until his breathing evened.

Emily finished eating, setting her plate on the table behind her and wiping her hands on a paper napkin. Aaron mimicked her, then refilled his cup from the nearby punchbowl.

As he turned to her, Emily raised her own cup, bumping it against Aaron’s before taking a drink, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “So,” she said. “How about that divorce?”

tags: @robins-gf, @catgrantknows, @lizziechase, @blakes-dictionxry

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #queerminal minds #*mine #*fic #these are ties that bind #don't mind me being sappy #i just can't quite believe i did this

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spaceskam · 5 years ago

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In The Mood For Love

for day 5 of @alterarnm : movie fusion!

ao3

Maybe Alex was foolish to trust him.

David was nice and kind when they married and Alex loved him. He loved having a husband, someone to curl up to at the end of the night, someone to kiss, someone to take care of and to be taken care of by. He didn’t even mind that Alex had lost his leg not long after their wedding. Of course, like any marriage, the honeymoon phase wore off and now, two years later, it felt like he’d downgraded from husband to roommate. David worked long shifts, sometimes even going on business trips and leaving Alex alone for days.

Alex’s loneliness rose when they moved into their new apartment. He’d seen their next-door neighbors: a husband and wife, both beautiful in their own way. The wife looked familiar somehow, but Alex never pressed because it wasn’t his business. However, he noticed that the wife was gone often as well. He almost felt sorry for her husband until he realized he was in the same position.

They passed each other nearly every night, Alex and her husband, as they crossed paths to fetch dinner at the market a block away. Most times, he was on his way home as Alex was on his way there and he would already be shoveling noodles into his mouth like he couldn’t wait. It made him smile on days that he struggled to find something to smile about.

After a week of near-isolation since Alex worked at home, he left a little earlier for dinner. The next day, he left a little earlier than that. Then a little earlier, a little earlier, a little earlier until he walked out of his apartment at the same time as the husband. They shared polite smiles and walked the same path, Alex always staying a few feet behind him. They didn’t speak, but it gave him a little more solace to know he wasn’t alone.

They did that every day for the next week until the husband didn’t come for a few days. He never even learned his name.

“I missed you,” Alex said, grabbing David in a hug when he got home from his business trip. He’d offered to pick him up from the airport, but the offer had been declined on the account that David wanted to relax before he got home. Yet, he still didn’t seem relaxed.

“Give me a moment, will you? I’ll see you in bed,” David promised him, peeling him off as he went to the bathroom for a bathroom.

David got in on the other side of the bed and didn’t touch him once.

Michael assumed it was common.

As newlyweds, they needed space so they didn’t get tired of each other too fast. Caroline always came home to him, so there was no harm. Well, until she didn’t always come home. She started needing to go on business trips with her employer, halfheartedly explaining that, as an assistant, she was needed. It got worse when she insisted they move into a new apartment.

Michael moved all of the furniture himself and he decorated the apartment himself. Caroline was home less and less and he began wondering if she’d notice if he messed with things. Each week, he’d move something from its place and wait until she noticed. She never did.

Still, Michael survived. He was a florist and he kept himself busy at work, enjoying the excited faces of young boys getting bouquets for their first girlfriends and rolling his eyes as the panicked husbands who’d done wrong and needed a gift. He’d bring Caroline flowers often, but he eventually stopped when she was rarely home to receive them. But it was okay. It was hard to allow himself to feel lonely when he was around people all day.

The moment he noticed that the word to describe his feelings was indeed loneliness was when he began walking to the market with his neighbor. They never spoke or shared names, but their silent walk had begun to be one of Michael’s favorite parts of the day. Which made him feel guilty.

When Caroline had first begun dating him and she discovered he was bisexual, she’d been so hesitant. She told him that she couldn’t trust him to be faithful, but he promised that he was. He always was. He assured her every time she accused him that he was faithful to her forever. She had full access to his phone, to his social media, to his computer to check whenever she got scared every week or so. He even married her to prove his loyalty. Walking and having dinner with the man next door felt like he was lying, like he was too close to being unfaithful. That man was beautiful, but he refused to hurt her. So he decided to stop walking with him.

“Let me check your phone,” Caroline demanded when he went to greet her after she got home from her business trip. He didn’t even get a hug in before she asked. He’d offered to pick her up from the airport, but she said her employer already got her a car and she didn’t want to mess up the plans.

“I haven’t done anything this week, but okay,” Michael agreed, handing it over, “I’ve missed you so much.”

She walked away with his phone in her hand without saying anything back.

Alex’s suspicions started when he tried to hug David from behind and he tilted his phone out of his line of view.

“Why are you hiding your phone?” Alex laughed, trying to kiss his cheek. David shrugged him off and got up to leave the room. Alex decided not to follow him. He was too scared to follow him.

He sat and pondered for a while. Had he done something wrong? Was David angry at him? The longer he thought about, the more he felt like that had to be the case. Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough. So he followed him into the bedroom.

“Are you mad at me?” Alex asked, “Did I forget something?”

“I’m not mad at you, Alex,” David sighed, looking at him with bored eyes. It was frustrating to see that and it hurt him in a place that he didn’t realize just a look could. Someone who used to look at him with love just… wasn’t anymore. He swallowed hard. “I just need my privacy.”

“All you have is privacy!” Alex argued, “You-you don’t even touch me anymore. Either you’re mad at me or you think I’m ugly or something! What did I do to make you not want me?”

“You want me to touch you? Then come here,” David demanded. Alex blinked in surprise, but slowly made his way closer to David. He wasn’t really in the mood to do anything physical after feeling so rejected, but he would take it when he didn’t want it if it meant he got something at all. David grabbed his hand and pulled him down, giving him a kiss that didn’t last. “There.”

“That’s it?” Alex asked. David scoffed.

“What do you want from me? I work all damn day to provide for you, but you can’t even appreciate that. I don’t have the time to just fuck you all day,” David said. Alex took a step away from him, trying not to feel to angry.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to love me,” Alex almost pleaded, “Please just love me.”

David stared at him, angry and maybe even a little guilty. But he simply stared and Alex didn’t know if he was supposed to say something or not. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do after this.

“Are you cheating on me?” Alex asked softly, voice breaking. David scoffed and stood up. “Are you?”

“I can’t believe you’d even ask me that,” he spat, pushing past Alex and storming into the bathroom with his phone in tow.

Maybe he got a little paranoid after that.

Alex paid more attention to things. Their bank account, the amount of time David was on his phone, how he smelled when he came home after late nights or business trips, the new checkered blue tie he got from a coworker that he’d always insisted before wasn’t his style. He noticed that some things correlated too much with his neighbor’s wife next door. One night, a little curious as to why a few hundred dollars came from their bank account in the middle of the afternoon, Alex called his office. His assistant answered.

And wouldn’t you know that voice was the same one he heard when he called David in the middle of the night when he was on his “business trip”.

“Where’d this come from?”

Michael stared at the really expensive bag that was in his wife’s closet. He knew they didn’t have the money for that kind of thing. Any time they spent more than $50 on something, it was something they spoke about beforehand. It’s how they paid their bills.

“What are you doing in my closet?” Caroline demanded instead, anger laced in her tone, “Don’t go through my things, what is wrong with you?!”

“I-I wasn’t, I was trying to find my shirt, it wasn’t in my stuff,” Michael explained, letting her grab him by the bicep and drag him out of the closet like he was a child. He tried to be gentle as he pulled away. “Where’d that bag come from, Caroline? That bag is hundreds of dollars.”

“My employer gave it to me,” she said stubbornly. Michael furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed.

“Why the hell would he do that?” he asked. Caroline rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I’m not going to explain to you what it means to be good to your workers.”

“No, I know what that is, but usually that’s, like, a cash bonus. That’s a personal gift,” Michael pointed out. Caroline scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What are you trying to say, Michael?” she asked. He blinked a few times and he tried to make sense of why her boss would get her a personal gift. The first idea that popped into his head felt like a lie. There was no way she would cheat on him. She was always so scared he would cheat, so he knew she would never. Right?

“Is he creepy or something?” Michael asked because that seemed like the next step. Caroline scoffed.

“No! David is a good boss, you just don’t get it. Now stop going through my shit.”

Michael needed to clear his head and try to make sense of it, so he excused himself to go to the market. As he exited his apartment, he noticed his neighbor doing the same. He looked a little rumpled and sad, but he gave Michael a smile nonetheless.

“Are you alright?” Michael asked him, unable to stop himself. His neighbor looked like he’d been crying and, well, they were sort of friends. They’d never spoken, but still.

His neighbor sniffled just a little and nodded. “Yeah, it’s just been a long day. Need comfort food.”

“Same,” Michael sighed. They stared at each other for a moment and Michael realized that it didn’t have to be close to cheating. He could just have a friend. “Hey, do you want to go together? Just, like, as friends, I mean. Nothing creepy.”

“Um,” his neighbor said, looking around before nodding, “Okay.”

“I’m Michael, by the way.”

“Alex.”

They walked side by side this time, stepping in time on purpose until Alex noticed and smiled. It was charming and Michael couldn’t deny that.

“So,” he said, speaking when he realized Alex wasn’t going to, “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Oh, um, David,” Alex said, nodding slightly. Michael watched as he looked up and blinked a bit. Something hit him in the chest at that moment and it felt a little too obvious, a little too easy. Life was never that easy.

“What’s he do for a living?” Michael asked. Alex tugged his sleeves over his palms.

“Manages a marketing branch or something. Not too educated on what he does,” he said, forcing a lighthearted laugh.

When they got to the market, Michael held the door open and Alex gave him a smile. They walked together in silence again, never really parting as Alex got his salad from a vegan stand and Michael got his ramen from the ramen stand. For the first time, they sat down together.

“So,” Alex started this time, “That bag I saw your wife with the other day… Where’d she get it?”

Michael eyed him. He took a small bite of his salad, trying to seem nonchalant as he did so. It was hard to tell if he knew what he was asking, so Michael tried to play along.

“Why, do you want to get one for yourself?” Michael asked. Alex smiled almost to himself and shrugged his shoulder, looking up at Michael through his eyelashes.

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d have to ask her since her boss got it for her,” Michael said. Alex simply nodded. “But… That reminds me of that tie I saw your husband wearing when he left for work the other morning, the blue checkered one. Do you know where he got it? My wife likes ties like that.”

Alex licked his lips and sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Not sure, he got it from a coworker,” he said. They locked eyes, both unable to give a smile either way. They both knew. Michael just didn’t want to really believe it. But a man named David wearing a tie so similar to the one she’d forced him to wear at their wedding who happened to work at a marketing company? He didn’t believe in coincidences. Alex tilted his head a bit. “They must think we’re so stupid.”

“What exactly are you getting at?” Michael asked. Alex’s smile was rueful.

“I believe you know.”

Michael dropped his fork with a sigh.

Again, they stared at each other for a few minutes, trying to decide what happens from here. How exactly was one supposed to handle discovering the person they loved was cheating on them with their neighbor? Did the affair start before they moved into the apartment? Was that why she was so set on moving there?

Without more discussion, they both picked up their forks and finished their meals in silence. They walked home together in silence. It was a strange sense of camaraderie with a man he didn’t know very well at all. Hell, they had nothing in common. Except their spouses.

“Goodnight, Michael,” Alex said as they got to their doors.

“Goodnight, Alex.”

They both went inside to face these people who betrayed them. Michael wasn’t sure what Alex’s plan was, but he kept his ears trained for any sign of yelling. It never came.

Caroline was in the shower when he got home and he quickly got into bed. He needed to think more before he approached her about it. He had no evidence, not really. He just couldn’t seem to think of a valid reason otherwise. Even if he didn’t understand why she always thought he was cheating when she was the real culprit.

She got into bed and shuffled around a bit.

“Are you not going to tell me goodnight?” she asked after he didn’t speak. Michael breathed a heavy breath of submission.

“Night.”

Alex walked beside Michael to the market the next evening.

“How do you think it began?”

“I’m not sure.”

Alex got his salad and Michael got his ramen and they sat at the same table as yesterday. They took bites in silence, casually glancing at each other as they tried to understand. What was so bad about them that they didn’t deserve the respect of being told it was over?

Alex stopped halfway through his meal, placing his fork down and straightening his posture.

“Do you have those papers I asked for?” he said. Michael looked up at him, green eyes wide and curious and noodles pooling out of his mouth. He seemed to understand and he swallowed his bite, clearing his throat as he sat up straight as well. Only, he leaned forward, mimicking a way someone might sit if they wanted attention on their breasts rather than their face.

“Of course,” he said, “I hope they’re up to your standard.”

“They’re always up to my standard when they’re from you.”

“No,” Michael intercepted, “She wouldn’t fall for that.”

“Okay,” Alex said, readjusting in his seat and clasping his hands in front of him, “Why don’t you show me privately?”

“Well, I’d have to tell my husband I’m staying late,” Michael answered.

“Please do. We have a lot of work to take care of.”

Michael stared at him for a moment before he scrunched up his nose, shrugging his shoulders.

“I don’t know, that sounds so forced,” he said. Alex nodded.

“You’re right. That couldn’t be it.”

“And how would you feel about coming on a business trip with me? I need your assistance.”

Michael let out a wistful sigh, batting his eyelashes Alex’s way as they took the long way to the market. Alex smiled in a way that felt more slimy than he actually was, trying his best to capture the true form of his husband.

“Oh? And what would my benefits be for that?” Michael asked.

“You know I’d take care of you,” Alex told him.

“In what ways?”

“No, he’s not explicit like that,” Alex cut in. Michael nodded and they paused their steps to backtrack their scene.

“Well, you make it sound so convincing,” Michael corrected. Alex walked with an uncharacteristic swagger.

“So you’ll come then?”

“Would my room be close to yours?”

“Absolutely,” Alex confirmed. Michael smiled.

“Then gladly.” They walked a few steps more, falling out of character as they did so. When Michael looked over at him, he was holding back a laugh. “What?”

“It just feels so cliche, you know? That it’d be before a business trip. I feel like even they aren’t that cliche,” Alex explained. Michael shrugged with a smile.

“Yeah, you’re right. It had to be some other way.”

Alex turned to him with a look in his eye as he schooled his features. Michael tried to get back into character as well as Alex tilted his head back just a little.

“I’m bored. Take off your clothes.”

Michael couldn’t keep it together at that, laughter bubbling out of him to the point he bent over. Alex laughed with him helplessly.

“How did you keep a straight face when you said that?!” Michael asked, looking to Alex with unashamed wonder, “Where did that even come from? Oh my god, dude.”

Alex snorted, shaking his head at him. “From some show, I don’t know. What, you don’t think that’s possibly what happened?”

“Not a chance.”

Michael bought his salad that evening.

“My husband’s bisexual. Forgive me for being so blunt, but he doesn’t always answer my questions.”

Alex watched as Michael stirred his tea with his finger and then sucked it off. He’d gotten frustrated with work and decided meeting up with Michael for a lunch break sounded good. He was correct.

“That’s a shame. I’m an open book,” Alex said in a low tone, channeling his inner David. It came easy when you knew a man for six years, one of which was entirely the seduction part. Alex was nothing if not stubborn. “Ask me what you want.”

“Do you really enjoy being with women? Or was that just what held you over until you found a man so you could be gay?” Michael asked. Alex could tell that question haunted him, something that he was probably asked more than once. He moved closer to the edge of his seat.

“I love being with women,” Alex said, the words foreign in his mouth, “It’s all soft skin and curves. I miss it sometimes. There are just some things my husband can’t provide.”

Michael sighed, elongating his neck and dragging his fingertips across it as he pushed his hair back. Alex watched each movement before going back to his eyes.

“What else do you miss about being with women?” Michael asked.

“I’m afraid all of my answers might be inappropriate.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.”

Things got a little too real as Michael’s foot dragged up Alex’s metal leg. Realization hit his eyes, but he never reacted and he never broke character. So Alex didn’t either, accepting the way Michael switched to his foot being between his legs to drag up the one he could actually feel. Alex ignored the way his heart raced.

“Tell me what you miss.”

“Strong thighs,” Alex said, leaning forward just a bit, “Long hair. Boobs.”

And somehow that got him to break character, a perfectly Michael smile breaking out onto his lips as a tiny giggle fell from him and his foot broke contact. Alex smiled back, letting his shoulders fall.

“What?” he asked.

“Boobs,” Michael repeated, laughing a little harder. Alex threw his arms out in defense.

“Listen, I’ve never had to flirt with a woman before, I don’t know what I’m supposed to call them,” Alex laughed. Michael shook his head, trying to dial back his amusement. But his amusement was honestly just too cute and Alex couldn’t help but soak it up while it lasted. It was in these moments that he didn’t feel so alone.

“Well, personally, I don’t call them anything when I’m trying to seduce someone because I don’t think there is a sexy word for them,” Michael defended. Alex scoffed.

“C’mon, there has to be one because erotica novels exist, right?” Alex pointed out, “Breasts? Tits? Fuckin’... chest balls?”

“What?” Michael demanded, his voice raising a few pitches before he threw his head back in laughter and he held his stomach. A few people looked over at them in curiosity, but Alex’s eyes stayed on him.

“I don’t know!”

“You are so lucky you’re gay, man,” Michael said, slowly but surely dialling down his laughter. Alex watched him with a smile as he did so.

“Hey,” Alex started once he calmed down, “So, you know how I write for a queer magazine, right? Well, what’d’you say about working with me about how it is to be a bisexual man when it’s still a struggle?”

“You wanna interview me?” Michael asked. Alex nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. Michael shrugged.

“Okay, sounds good.”

They decided the least suspicious way to carry out the interview would be in a motel room. They couldn’t do it at either one of their apartments because if their spouses found out, it’d be quite obvious that they knew about what was going on between them. They weren’t quite ready for that yet. Hell, they didn’t even understand that yet. Even if months had passed since they realized.

But the unforeseen problem came when their agreed upon day rolled around and Alex’s stump was too swollen to fit into his prosthetic. He was sore and frustrated, but they agreed. So Alex got his crutches and slowly made his way to his car, ignoring the throbbing.

Michael was waiting outside of the motel room for him, but he couldn’t help but meet him halfway when he saw he was on crutches.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Alex gave him a tired smile.

“Yeah, just, um, just a bad leg day,” Alex explained. Michael gave an exaggerated frown.

“Well, is there anything I can do?” he wondered. Alex shook his head.

“Not really. Can you get my laptop though, please?” Alex asked. Michael agreed without hesitance.

A few minutes later, they found themselves sitting on opposite sides of a queen sized bed. Alex was sitting with his laptop propped on his lap, mindlessly rubbing at his stump as he asked questions. Michael couldn’t help himself as he scooted a little closer.

“I can massage it if you want, I bet that’ll help some of the aching,” Michael offered. Alex eyed him suspiciously. “Nothing weird, I promise, I just hate seeing that you’re in pain.”

“No one but my doctor and my PT have touched it since I lost it,” Alex admitted. Michael stared at him, unsure if that was a rejection or not. But then Alex untied the knot at the end of his sweats and hiked them up over his knee.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

Michael scooted closer and pulled Alex’s stump into his lap, touching it gently at first. They never spoke about how he lost it, but Michael knew it couldn’t have been easy. The skin was warm to the touch and his underworked muscles were tense, clearly in need of a rougher pair of hands from a different angle than its owner. So he got to work.

Alex’s head fell back against the wall and Michael tried not to look. It was harder than he expected though. Soft little noises were coming from this man he’d spent nearly every day with these last few months, sharp intakes of breaths and desperately controlled moans. He tried to keep his thoughts in a pure place as he massaged harder and Alex’s noises got more unhinged. He wasn’t a cheater and neither was Alex. He was helping a friend who was hurting.

“Thank you,” Alex said once he was done, face flushed, “Sorry if I‒”

“No, it’s okay,” Michael said, smiling at him, “I understand.”

Michael went home that night feeling guilty and Alex went home that night feeling it even moreso. They both tried to be good, tried not to think about their friend in that way when their spouse was in the next room. But somehow, as they took their own separate showers, their thoughts went to each other. It was easy to touch themselves to the thought of finally being touched by someone else again.

By the time the next day rolled around and Alex was still haunting his brain, he knew it’d gone too far. Even though it wasn’t what his wife was doing, it still felt so wrong. He was married and yet he hadn’t thought about his wife in too long. He was too busy thinking about his neighbor.

And still as his lunch break rolled around, he couldn’t help but dial Alex’s number.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Alex asked when he picked up. They never spoke over the phone. They didn’t even text. They had each other’s numbers for emergencies only. How could Michael explain that this was an emergency?

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he admitted shamefully.

“Okay,” Alex said softly. It was clear that he also thought it was too far. They’d crossed a line and nothing real had even happened. How the hell did his wife do this and so much more without guilt? He couldn’t do this anymore. “I’m writing your article.”

Maybe one more day.

“Read it to me?”

“Of course.”

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“But‒”

“I’m married!”

“So am I,” Alex said as David on purpose, but as himself on accident. Because it made sense a little to him now. Sometimes you just couldn’t control who you fell in love with. “But I can’t resist you anymore.”

Michael looked at him, face torn between desire and hesitance. He was leaning against a tree that was in a park that was technically on the way to the market. It was a simple detour, but it was dark and they were alone and he looked beautiful.

“David,” Michael said, shaking his head, “This is wrong.”

“I know it is, Caroline,” Alex answered, stepping closer.

Yesterday, they’d crossed a line. They touched and while it was meant to be platonic, it felt like more when Alex felt more. They’d spoken on the phone and that should’ve been platonic, but it couldn’t be when Michael felt more. They both knew it was more. They both knew it was wrong.

This had to be their last reenactment. This had to be the right one.

“You make it so hard to resist you,” Michael told him, “They way you carry yourself like that. You’ve been through so much and yet you’re still so strong.”

“Me?” Alex scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets in an attempt to keep them to himself, “God, I’m just trying to survive around you. You flaunt yourself for me, I know it. The way you dress, the way you do your hair, the way you say my name…”

Alex was in his space before he even knew it. They were so close, hardly a centimeter apart. If either one of them breathed just a little harder, their chests would touch. That had never happened before. Until it did.

“Alex,” Michael said, his hands going up to press into Alex’s chest. Their foreheads met as Alex held onto his wrists, keeping them close.

“Just like that.”

They shared breaths, so close he could kiss him if he wanted. And he wanted. But Alex couldn’t bring himself to do it and Michael couldn’t either, yet neither of them could manage to break contact. He wanted this. He wanted him.

“I can’t be them,” Michael whispered, tears building in his eyes, “I won’t be them.”

“I know,” Alex agreed, nodding slightly against him. He couldn’t move away though and Michael didn’t push him. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know.”

They breathed more and slowly, slowly Michael’s fingers locked with Alex’s. Alex felt more in that moment than he did on his wedding night. He didn’t have the heart to ask Michael if it was the same for him.

“I love you,” he admitted, telling him and the darkness and no one else. He could see those tears falling down Michael’s cheeks as he clutched his hands.

“I love you too,” Michael said, voice breaking, “But I can’t. I won’t. I won’t do this. I won’t be like them. I’m not a cheater. Neither are you.”

“I know,” Alex agreed, “I know.”

They stayed there, trying to work up the courage to leave the one place of comfort they’d found in years. Michael was able to gently push him away first, their grips on each other unraveling as they put more and more space.

The space kept getting bigger and bigger until Michael was out of sight. Alex didn’t realize he was crying too until he was gone completely. His heart ached like it never had before, a new shade of loneliness tearing into his gut with no sign of stopping.

He leaned against the tree and sobbed until he could remember how to walk.

-three years later-

Alex stood in his house with pride.

He’d signed his first lease by himself with no roommates and that felt good. Everything felt good. He was three years single, two years out of Roswell, and one year of feeling like the man he knew he could be. That was a good thing.

Still, even though three years had passed, he thought of Michael regularly. He’d see ramen and smile at the sloppy way he shoved it into his mouth. He’d see curly hair and feel his heart try to escape his chest. He’d hear wild laughter and he’d miss him a little more.

It was hard at first. He avoided going outside until he finally managed to tell David it was over, but by then Michael had already ended it with Caroline and moved somewhere else. He never got the chance to really say goodbye which seemed to hurt even more. Every once in a while he’d be tempted to call him, so he eventually deleted his number so he wouldn’t have anything to be tempted by. That was when he finally was able to get the hell out of Roswell and move to Santa Fe. Maybe it wasn’t much of an upgrade, but he felt it.

He felt it and he was ready to move on, to try again.

With a content sigh, Alex made his way outside so he could go grocery shopping for the first time for his new house. He locked the door behind and made his way to his car, unlocking it just as his neighbor locked theirs. Human instinct caused him to look up at the sound and he had to do a double take as a man with unmistakable curls stood in the driveway beside his.

Alex stood frozen, unwilling to believe this was real until he saw his face. Hell, even when they locked eyes, he couldn’t believe it was real. In what world was he allowed to live beside this man twice? What was this?

“Alex?” Michael said, his voice so real that Alex nearly fell to the ground. He held onto his car for balance, staring at him. Michael came closer in slow strides and all Alex could do was think of why he deserved this.

Perhaps this was his good karma for doing the right thing.

“Michael?” Alex said even as he stepped up to him. And Michael smiled that same brilliant smile. Tears came to Alex’s eyes without warning at the sight and it made that smile fall.

“Are you alright?” he asked, stepping closer. Alex let out a breathy laugh and nodded.

“Yeah. I really am.”

He deserved this.

#alteraroswell2020 #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

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