#this morning he missed a conversation about fucking butter (a long story) and when i made a joke about it he gave me the most exhausted

[scribespirare]

sous chef called me 'bubbly' the other day and my entire body recoiled in disgust still thinking about it tbch

[laurenairay]

Unexpected - K. Hayes

Summary: After being just friends with Kevin for over four years, can you ever be anything more?

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: a little angst, a lot of fluff, a smidgen of smut, friends to lovers because that’s my jam

A/N: so this originally started as a blurb which got mildly out of hand and turned into this fic. I have repeated the scene from the blurb to keep the flow the same. I have no regrets. 

This is particularly inspired from Talk About by Seaforth (thanks @antoineroussel!) and Just Friends by Virginia to Vegas (thanks @broadstbroskis!)

@danglesnipecelly @princessphilly @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @himbos-on-ice @whoeverineedtobe @flybabyfly @ipuckwithhockey @antoineroussel @babytkachuks @broadstbroskis @texanstarslove @tippedbykreider @thebookofmags @horsesandhockeyplayers @denis-scorianov @lulucanwrite @rangersftflyers @notaccurateornice @pandorasbox2020 @mattytkachuk19 @whatishockey​ @no-pucks-given​ @fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan​ @troubatrain @joelsfarabee @nuenyyx @miracleonice87

*

A party was never just a simple party when Kevin Hayes was involved. Music was pounding, beer was flowing, shots were poured, and weed was an easy haze on the back porch. You had no idea what the occasion was for one of your oldest friends to be throwing this shindig, but you weren’t complaining. Hanging out with him and relaxing after a long hard day was infinitely better than sitting at home and eating cold pizza. Again.

People always teased you about being so close with Kevin, always hinting that there must be something more between you, but you just laughed it off, knowing that he would never be interested. How could he? He had the perfect hockey WAGs lining up in queues to flirt with him – and you were just his friend. You’d known each other since you both lived in Tribeca years ago, and there had never been anything to even hint at anything more than friends. He’d never flirted with you outside of his natural charm. He’d never made a move on you in the slightest. He’d never shown the smallest bit of interest in anything other than platonic – so you knew how he felt. And to be honest, his friendship was amazing and it was something you never wanted to lose, so why would you put yourself out there when you already knew what the answer would be?

No, being friends with Kevin Hayes was exactly where you were meant to be.

You’d spent a few hours with a rotating cast of Flyers and their better halves, drinking and sharing stories about your mutual friend, but it had been a while since you’d seen him. At least a couple of non-Kevin hours. So what if you got a little needy when you were drinking? How could you not want a hug from your beautiful friend? No, bad drunk brain. Crossing that line was never worth it.

You still wanted that hug though.

So bidding the other drunk partygoers adieu, you wandered about the house in search of Kevin, coming up empty in every room…until you spotted smoke outside the kitchen window. Hah, of course. You knew how much he loved to wind down with a blunt or two. His easygoing nature was one of the things you loved most about him.

Putting down your empty drink, you walked outside, spotting Kevin and Nolan lounging on the outside sofas, Nolan with a blunt in his hand.

“Hey! You’re here!” Kevin grinned.

You shook your head fondly, wafting the pungent smoke out of your face.

“I’ve been here for hours, Kev. You’ve already seen me,” you said, smiling.

Kevin pouted, and Nolan just snickered, making you laugh.

“Weed always makes you forgetful,” you mused, sitting down on the seating next to him.

“Nuh-uh I don’t forget everything,” Kevin shrugged, turning to face you properly, “Not the important things. Like the fact that I love you, you know that right?”

Your jaw dropped slightly as his words hit you. What the everloving fuck? Why would he joke like that?

“Goddamn Kev, how high are you?” you asked, frowning.

Without waiting for him to answer, you looked over at Nolan, who just shrugged.

“I don’t know, he’s pretty baked. But I’m going to let you deal with all of that,” Nolan grimaced, waving a hand in Kevin’s general direction.

You rolled your eyes as he quickly passed Kevin the blunt and walked back inside. Yeah, thanks for the help.

“Why did Patty leave?” Kevin asked, frowning.

“Because he’s allergic to emotions? I don’t know. Maybe he just knows that you’re talking shit and he doesn’t want to deal with it,” you muttered.

“I’m not talking shit,” Kevin shot back, “I love you,”

“No you don’t,” you said, rolling your eyes again.

Seriously? Where had this come from? This wasn’t fair, he couldn’t say that when you knew it wasn’t true. Where had he gotten this lot of weed from? Clearly it didn’t agree with him.

“Yes I do! I know my own feelings,” Kevin insisted.

“Right, yeah, sure you do,” you sighed.

You were neither drunk enough nor high enough for this conversation. This was…not how you expected this evening to go. And just like that, your good mood was ruined.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Kevin asked softly.

“Not even in the slightest, Kev,” you said, smiling sadly.

Of course you didn’t. Why, after all this time, would he be saying the words you most wanted to hear from him? There was no logic behind it – there was no way it could be true. He’d never ever shown any hint of this to be true.

“I’ll prove it to you,” he said firmly.

And then he placed his hand on your thigh, making you inhale sharply, the warmth of his large hand sending tingles through your body. No.

“This is not the time or place, Kevin,” you said shortly, “You are stoned out of your fucking mind,”

“You said my full name. You never say my full name,” he said sadly.

Of course that’s what he picked up out of that. Clearly he wasn’t going to get any easier to talk to…and while normally that made for some pretty fun conversation, tonight it wasn’t going to happen. And you couldn’t sit around and listen to more of this.

“I’m just going to go,” you sighed, nudging his hand off your thigh and standing upright.

“What? No!” Kevin said, eyes wide and sad.

“I can’t,” you said, forcing a smile, “I can’t stay and hear this, when I know you don’t mean it when you’re sober,”

“But…”

“I’ll send Nolan back out, okay? I’ll…talk to you later, Kev,” you said firmly, interrupting him.

Without waiting for another answer, you quickly walked back into the house, heartbeat racing in your ears and a lump in your throat. At least you didn’t have to go far to look for Nolan – he was standing just inside in the kitchen.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he frowned.

You just shook your head, smiling thinly, not wanting to go into it. “I’m going to go,”

“But he…”

“Kev will be fine – you don’t mind going back out there with him, right?” you said, interrupting.

Nolan pressed his lips together but shook his head. “No, I don’t mind,”

“Good. Good. Um, I’m sure I’ll see you around?” you offered.

Would you? Who knows. How long would you even need before you could see Kevin again without your heart aching?

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Nolan nodded.

You missed the determined look in the younger man’s eyes as you walked away, too intent on locating your jacket without giving in to the tears that were threatening to fall. Sleep, sobering up and some distance – that would help, right?

*

01:21

From: Kevin

Why did you leave?

Please come back?

~

01:57

From: Kevin

I meant it.

I swear I meant it.

Please call me.

~

03:00

Missed call – Kevin

~

10:17

From: Kevin

Fuck I fell asleep.

Are you ignoring me?

Please call me when you get this.

~

10:35

From: Kevin

I get it if you don’t love me back.

But please don’t ignore me, I can’t take that.

Please call me?

We need to talk. Please.

~

10:55

From: Kevin

Please?

~

11:00

To: Kevin

Kev, I can’t do this.

It’s too much.

Please just give me time and space.

~

11:02

From: Nolan

I’ve taken Kev’s phone off him.

His sad face is too much.

I know you asked for space and I’ll make sure he gives it to you.

But please, just think over what he said?

You know he doesn’t say shit he doesn’t mean, not when it’s important.

~

11:17

To: Nolan

Yeah, okay. I’ll think it over.

*

Mornings were generally your worst time of day. But this morning in particular was a terrible one. The slight bleurgh of lingering sleep made you feel groggy enough, but nothing that a quick shower and a slice of buttered toast couldn’t fix. No, this morning was terrible because your heart was still aching from three days ago. You still had no idea what Kevin was playing at, acting like that around you, but it hurt and you knew you weren’t going to be able to forget it any time soon. Kevin’s increasingly desperate text messages and the single message from Nolan hung over you like a bad shadow, but you knew were right about not just giving in straight away – you were still emotional enough now as it was, and you knew it wouldn’t have been a good idea to see Kevin immediately. No, space was exactly what you needed, even if it hurt.

Your second cup of coffee woke you up enough at least to not leave you in a pit of despair. Like Nolan had asked, you’d thought about Kevin’s words over and over again. His declaration of love, out of nowhere. His confusion and sadness and fucking desperation. You know he doesn’t say shit he doesn’t mean, not when it’s important. It still didn’t give you the answer, any answer. Because in your heart, there was still that little whisper of doubt, telling you it wasn’t true, not really. And unless you were 100% sure, there was no way you could take that chance, not with Kevin. His friendship was too important in your life to risk not having it at all, so if it meant needing time to get over him and drag yourself out of this swirling despair then you would take it.

Despair was for people who didn’t have a life to get on with. You had lived long enough without Kevin in your life before you’d met him, and you could damn well succeed in living without his presence for a couple of weeks or so. At least until you’d built up those walls again.

It had been three days and the struggle was real.

Around 9am, you were jolted out of your thoughts by a series of knocks on your front door. With a frown, you walked over to the entrance hallway, and peeked through the peep-hole, only to see Kevin. What the fuck? Why was he here?

He had a sad but determined look on this face, you could see that much – fuck, was he going to say he didn’t mean anything he said that night? That now he’d thought about it properly, it wasn’t real? It was bad enough hearing his emotions from him when high as a kite, but you couldn’t bear for him to admit it was fake when he was sober. But maybe it was what you deserved, seeing as you’d asked for time and space. Fuck. No, you’d definitely done the right thing for you…but had you done the right thing for Kevin?

What you did know for sure was that you couldn’t leave him standing outside, when he knew full well that you had no real plans today. He knew your schedule too well for that. So with a deep breath, you put on a smile and opened the door. There he stood, eyes warm albeit sleepy, that hair so perfectly tousled. Why did he have to hit every single tickbox on your list? How was that fair?

“Look who’s up before midday on an off-day,” you teased, “What are you doing here?”

Kevin smiled at your teasing, but it was as fake as you knew your smile was. Fuck. “I was in the neighbourhood and figured I’d see what you were up to. Mind if I come in?”

Ouch. He definitely wasn’t in the neighbourhood, he was here for one reason only. To talk. Fuck.

But you nodded, letting him past you into your apartment anyway. He’d given you three days’ space, like you’d asked, it was only fair that you let him say his piece now right?

“Coffee?” you asked, shutting the door behind him.

“Yes please,” Kevin groaned, nodding.

Your smile slipped a little as you headed to the kitchen, you heart already aching with the preparation of it being broken completely, but you managed to keep yourself together as you reached for the coffee pot, pouring him a large mug of the caffeinated lifeblood in silence.

“Here you go,” you said as cheerfully as you could manage.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling.

He sat down at the kitchen island, looking up at you with those beautiful big eyes, until you sat down opposite him.

“I still mean it, y’know,” he said bluntly.

You frowned, not understanding. “Mean what?”

“Mean what I said that night. That I love you,”

Oh God. Fuck. Your breath hitched in your throat, your lips parting in surprise. What…what was he doing?

“Kev, please don’t…”

“No, I’m going to,” Kevin interrupted, uncharacteristically solemn, “Because you seem to have some pretty incorrect ideas in your head and I need to set them straight,”

You swallowed heavily, biting your bottom lip. How were you even supposed to respond to that? Kevin saw the anxious look on your face clear as day, his own seriousness softening to a sad smile.

“Patty said you looked pretty upset when you left that night,” he said softly.

You shook your head, desperate for a sliver of control. “I wasn’t upset, I-”

“Even if he hadn’t spent the last three days ripping into me, I know you were upset. You’ve never just left like that,” Kevin said firmly.

Normally, you hated being interrupted. But in this case, you really had nothing else you could say. Nothing that you could say, not when he knew you so well.

“No, I haven’t,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“I’m sorry that me confessing how I felt made you leave but I wasn’t messing around! I was trying gather the high courage to tell you, after all this time!” Kevin said desperately.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

He was serious, wasn’t he? Of course he had to bulldoze right through, in typical Kevin Hayes style.

But Kevin took your silence the wrong way.

“How could you not have known?” he frowned.

“How could I possibly have known, Kev? I’ve seen you flirting with women before – and you’re never like that around me. How could I have known that you wanted anything more than friendship when you’ve never acted like it?” you retorted.

Kevin’s cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head briefly, before he looked back up at you. Fuck, he looked a little sad? Like...like he was about to genuinely open up his heart. Fuck.

“I always thought you weren’t interested in me. Why would you be interested in dumb stoner Kevin? I figured if I could only ever have you as a friend then I would latch onto that, because having you in my life in any way is so much better than not having you in my life at all,” he said sadly.

You had never heard him this eloquent before. To be honest, it made your heart ache all over again. But he was never like this…why now?

“Are you still high?” you asked, frowning.

Kevin laughed dryly, shaking his head. “Why do I have to be high to tell you how I feel?”

“Because that’s literally the only time you’ve ever said it before?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Kevin groaned softly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“You know meaningful stuff doesn’t come all that easily to me,” he huffed.

“I also know you’re not just Kevin-the-hockey-playing-himbo-from-Boston,” you pointed out, smiling slightly.

Kevin laughed softly. “You always have figured me out pretty well,”

“I’m just not a mind reader,” you mused.

He laughed again, nodding his head. “I guess I just…I saw you and I had to say it. I’ve liked you for years, sweetheart, ever since we lived in Tribeca. And I thought, maybe, just maybe, you getting your job transferred to Philly meant that it was finally our time. But it never happened. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the weed and how beautiful you looked combined that actually took down those barriers which have kept me from blurting out my feelings in the past. But I swear to you, I meant every word,”

Sweetheart. Wow. Never had that word affected you more. You swallowed heavily, looking down at your hands. It was true that you’d always been able to read him well – and he was being so sincere right now that it had your stomach tied in knots. He really meant it, didn’t he? He really meant…that he loves you. That he’s loved you for years. Fuck.

It was everything you’d hoped to hear, and you’d spent the last three days trying to convince yourself he didn’t mean it. But he really did mean it, didn’t he?

“Say it again,” you murmured.

The grin that spread across Kevin’s lips sent a shiver up your spine.

“I love you,” he said clearly, firmly, looking directly into your eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat, butterflies exploding in your stomach. Fuck that was so good to hear. Holy fucking shit.

“Kevin…” you whispered helplessly.

“I gotta know…because I’m holding onto a scrap of hope that you feel the same…do you…”

He trailed off, his voice a little desperate, a little lost, and you found yourself nodding like an idiot, tears springing to your eyes. If he could be brave, then so could you.

“Yes, Kev, I do. I love you so much,” you admitted.

Kevin laughed in triumph, a little incredulous, and he quickly stood up from the island, taking one large step towards you, and tugging you to stand up on your feet too.

“Fuck, fuck, can I kiss you?” he asked, happiness sparkling in his eyes.

You found yourself laughing, but nodded and clutched at his sweater, holding on in case your weak knees gave out on you. Kevin grinned, resting his forehead against yours briefly, before he closed the distance between you with a firm kiss. You couldn’t help but melt into his arms, kissing him back just as eagerly, throwing your arms around his neck a little desperately as his tongue slid against yours. His hands went to your hips and he easily picked you up to place you on the kitchen counter, and you gasped into his mouth at how effortless the motion was, moaning a little as he just stepped right in between your legs. It felt like second nature to hook your legs around his waist, pulling your bodies even closer together, earning a soft moan from the man that sent a pulse of heat right between your thighs. Fuck.

“Kev, wait, we shouldn’t…” you gasped, tilting your head back to break the kiss.

Because as much as you wanted to hop right into bed with him, you needed to let him know that this wasn’t all this was for you. It couldn’t be.

“Fuck, you gotta know this is more than sex for me, right?” Kevin groaned, eyes a little wild as he looked down at you.

How did he always know what to say?

“Again, I’m not a mind reader,” you laughed.

Kevin laughed as well, ducking his head to press gentle kisses into the soft skin of your neck.

“I want to take you out on so many dates. I want to tell my mom about you properly rather than just mention you in passing. I want to ignore Patty crowing in the locker room that he gave me the kick up the ass that I needed. I want to tell Brady and Jimmy that I finally took a chance. I want to show you off to the world as my girlfriend,” Kevin murmured between kisses, finishing with a nip to your earlobe.

Fuck. That was all that you wanted, and he was offering it up on a silver platter.

“I want that too,” you gasped, tilting your head more to the side.

You felt Kevin smile against your skin, nipping at you again before he lifted his head to look at you properly.

“Now can I kiss you again?” Kevin asked hopefully.

You laughed but nodded, threading your fingers through his messy curls. “You can kiss me any time you want,”

Kevin grinned and did just that.

*

Pulling into the practice arena, Kevin realised he still had a stupid smile on his face. He’d spent all morning at your apartment, mostly making out on the sofa with a little talking dotted throughout, and he’d only been able to tear himself away because Nolan had texted to remind him about the mandatory afternoon practice today. Obviously he would much rather have stayed with you, especially now that he knew what it was like to kiss you, how your lips felt against his, how easy it was to hold you in his arms, but if he skipped practice there would be hell to pay.

That, and he now knew how easily he could get carried away, how easily he could get lost in you. He hadn’t lied when he said that this was more than sex for him. Loving you was everything – overwhelming, all-consuming and wonderful – and there was no way he was going to let sex ruin that. As much as he already knew it would be incredible. He’d waited four years to be in your bed more than platonically, he could wait a little longer. Especially now that he knew you loved him too.

Fuck, you were finally his. He could finally call you his girlfriend. Fuck.

Kevin was so lost in his thoughts as he parked his car, that he didn’t notice a familiar figure walking up to him, and flinched as they knocked on the window. Nolan. Fuck.

“Way to give me a heart attack, baby cat,” Kevin groaned as he got out of the car.

“You made me catch a lift with Teeks last minute – now we’re even,” Nolan smirked.

Kevin just laughed, rolling his eyes as he pulled his bag out of his car and locked it. When he turned back to look at his friend, he saw that Nolan looked incredibly smug, almost unbearably so, and steeled himself for an interrogation. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming in his text earlier to say that Nolan would have to find his own way to practice. Oops.

“Please tell me you came from your New York girl’s place,”

Hah, your New York girl. When you’d first moved job to Philadelphia, Kevin had referred to you as ‘a girl friend from New York’, to try to play it cool, to try to hide how excited he was that you were finally going to be reunited…and the name had stuck. Pretty much everyone on the team, including some who’d been traded away, referred to you as ‘your New York girl’, mainly because of how red Kevin had blushed when Claude had called you that when you’d first met the team.

The team liked teasing their usually-unflappable teammate.

You liked that Kevin talked about you in the first place.

Kevin just liked that people had always called you his.

“Yeah, I did,” Kevin shrugged, trying to play it cool.

But Nolan just rolled his eyes, not having any of it.

“You two talked right? Like, actually talked,” Nolan asked firmly.

That and other things. But Nolan didn’t need to know that. Kevin just smirked, nodding, and laughed as Nolan whooped.

“I swear to god I’m not getting those three days back, you owe me so bad. And I’m claiming victory for this matchmaking,” Nolan grinned.

“Meddling more like it,” Kevin mused, rolling his eyes, “You got the result you wanted though,”

“I did?”

“You did,”

“Fucking finally,” Nolan groaned.

“Finally what?”

Kevin turned his head to see Claude walking up behind them and winced. If Nolan kept his mouth shut then maybe Kevin had a chance of not being ridiculed for the entirety of practice…

“Hayesy ditched me to finally talk about his feelings,” Nolan smirked.

Oof.

“With your New York girl? Fucking finally,” Claude grinned.

One day that nickname would fade. One day.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Better late than never,” Kevin mused.

“Only took you a few years,” Nolan snorted.

Four long miserable years. But who was counting.

“Well I’m glad you finally took a chance. Fuck knows it’s been painful enough watching the two of you dance around each other,” Claude teased, before his face suddenly went serious, “She returned your feelings, right? Like, fuck-”

��She did,” Kevin said, interrupting, “She loves me too,”

Saying it out loud like that made him grin, earning laughter from his two teammates.

“Thank fuck for that,” Claude huffed, teasing with a grin of his own.

Thank fuck indeed.

*

From: Kevin

Dinner at mine tonight?

I’ve got that wine you like…

~

To: Kevin

You had me at wine.

What time do you want me?

~

From: Kevin

I always want you.

I’ll have food ready for 7pm.

But come over whenever!

~

To: Kevin

You ridiculous flirt.

Can’t wait to see you.

~

Kevin’s messages kept a smile on your face for the rest of your work day, and you didn’t bother going back to your apartment after work – heading straight to his place was all you could think about, so that’s all that you did. And the smile that he greeted you with when he opened the door – bright, genuine, happy – told you that you’d made the right decision.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Kevin murmured, tugging you against his body.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into his hold as he shut the door behind you. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” you grinned.

Kevin grinned back. “Good to know,”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a soft kiss, smiling at the happy noise he made as you embraced sweetly, your arms sliding up his chest and around his neck. Fuck, even just knowing that you could do this now, kiss him whenever you wanted, sent a shiver up your spine, let alone how good it felt to brush your tongue against his. It was like the floodgates had opened – now that you could kiss him, touch him, hold him, you never wanted to stop. You took every opportunity, and Kevin was exactly the same – maybe even more so, with the way his hands always seemed to stray to your ass.

The kisses eventually slowed to a few gentle pecks, Kevin looking a little stunned even as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Hi,” you murmured.

“Hi,” he said back, a little helplessly.

Both of you laughed, Kevin resting his forehead against yours briefly before he stepped backwards a little, taking both of your hands with his.

“I gotta finish up some dinner prep, but I can pour you a glass of wine while you wait?” he suggested.

Sweet, thoughtful man.

“That sounds perfect to me,” you nodded, squeezing his hands in agreement.

Dinner was perfect. Wonderful. Incredible. It was only a simple pasta dish, but full of vegetables and spices and flavour, and the fact that Kevin had clearly poured time and effort into making this for the two of you made it even more special. Sitting across from him at the dinner table, each talking about your days, Kevin making your sides ache with laughter…it was all you could ever have dreamed of.

Was it all too good to be true?

That niggling thought followed you to the sofa after you’d finished eating, Kevin joining you with two fresh glasses of wine. He spotted your creased forehead and frown immediately, like you feared knew he would.

“What’s that face for?” Kevin mused, raising an eyebrow.

Sometimes it was a blessing how easily he could read you. But you weren’t sure if now was one of those times. As his smile started to slip, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself. There was no point in hiding your thoughts from him. Honesty and communication were a good thing, right?

“I guess I’m just nervous, that’s all,” you admitted.

Kevin frowned to match you, his eyes immediately going serious. “Nervous? Why?”

“Things are just different now. You know that,”

Kevin’s frown immediately shifted to a smile, making your heart beat a little faster. His faith in you was mindblowing. “It’s just you and me, how it’s always been. How it always should be. Nothing’s different about that,”

But still you shook your head, smiling fondly. “I know you as Kevin-the-friend. I don’t know you as Kevin-the-boyfriend. It’s whole new territory…and I have a horrible thought in my mind saying that it’s all too good to be true,”

Kevin’s face fell again at your words, and he quickly put his wine glass on the coffee table, shaking his head as he reached out to take one of your hands in his. Your breath hitched in your throat at the emotion in his eyes, like it genuinely hurt him to hear the words that came out of your mouth, and you put your own glass down on the floor with a wince.

“Are you…having second thoughts? About…us?” he said quietly, like the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

You quickly shook your head – you knew that wasn’t it. Not even close. But still…

“What is it then?” Kevin asked, confused.

Here goes nothing. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, us being together. Like I’m going to wake up and you’re going to want to only be just friends. It scares me,”

“Shit,” Kevin groaned, eyes closing briefly.

When his eyes reopened his eyes to look at you once more, the fire in his expression startled you…but also made your mouth go dry. That intensity was a good look on him, one you hadn’t seen directed your way before. Fuck.

“Sweetheart, I can’t predict the future. Hell, I can barely figure out what to make for breakfast, let alone where our relationship is going to go. But I do know one thing for certain,” he said firmly.

You swallowed heavily, letting out a shaky breath. “And what’s that?”

“That I want us to have a future. That I am all in. I’m putting my whole heart into this baby, and I just wish I knew what to do so you would believe me,”

Fuck, you did believe him. You absolutely did believe him. How could you not, when you could feel his heart so strongly?

“Kev, I…” you trailed off, a little helpless, not sure where to start.

“What can I do?” he asked, eyes a little desperate.

“I don’t know! I wish I knew. I want this to work so badly,” you murmured.

“All we can do is put the hard work in, right?” he said firmly, eyes bright and shining, “Like, if we both try with our whole hearts, then it’s got to be worth it, right? We’ve been friends for years – that isn’t going to change. We have that foundation already. Now we’re just taking that next step, learning more about each other, rather than starting something scary from scratch,”

Your eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt words, and you found yourself nodding before you could stop yourself.

“It’s still scary…but it could be scarier,” you agreed, biting your bottom lip.

Kevin nodded, smiling encouragingly, to which you let out a shaky breath.

“And no matter what, we’re in this together, yeah? We’ve got each other, more so than ever before,” he said softly.

Your eyes dropped to where his thumb ran back and forth over your hand, a small smile spreading across your lips. “I like the sound of that,”

Kevin’s shoulders seemed to relax a little, like he was letting out tension, sending a guilty pang through your body. Fuck, there you go, making him feel bad again.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, shrinking back a little.

“Hey, no, no apologies. I’m glad you told me,” he replied, shaking his head, “I’d rather we talked about stuff like this than let it build up to something ugly, y’know?”

He had a good point – you couldn’t imagine having a nasty all-out fight with Kevin, and you didn’t want to. He was one of your oldest friends for a reason, and you didn’t want to lose that through a stupid fight, no way.

“Same goes for you too, yeah? You can…should talk to me about anything that worries you,” you said softly.

Kevin smiled, nodding. “Alright, it’s a deal,”

He reached out to pick up his wine glass from the table, holding it towards you in a ‘cheers’ motion, making you laugh. But you picked up your glass from the floor anyway, and clinked it with his, both of you taking a long drink. Kevin was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, before he quirked a smile your way.

“Let me take you out, show you what Kevin-the-boyfriend is like,” he suggested, “Let me show you that this new thing between us is going to be something amazing,”

How could you say no to that?

“I’d like that,” you grinned, relaxing into the sofa a bit more, “I already know I love Kevin-the-friend…so I think I need to meet Kevin-the-boyfriend properly,”

And as stupid as it felt saying those words out loud, you knew you were right – you needed to see this next stage in your relationship clearly, to banish away those niggling doubts. It was still Kevin, right? Just…more.

Kevin stretched his leg out onto the sofa, nudging your hip with his foot with a big smile on his face, nudging nudging nudging until you gripped his ankle tightly with your free hand, raising an eyebrow. All you got in return was his eyebrows wiggling at you, a stupid grin on his face.

“This is going to be great, you’ll see,” Kevin said cheerfully.

You were counting on it.

*

A first date was always something to be nervous about, right? Shaky hands, pounding heart, butterflies in the stomach, sweaty palms…it was all natural, right? Because you were experiencing all of these things while you got ready for your date with Kevin.

But was it truly nerves? You weren’t nervous as in apprehensive. No, not at all. Any time you spent with Kevin was always full of warmth and laughter, even when you were just friends, and you knew that tonight would be so different. No, it was nervous as in excited. Nervous butterflies? Shaky giddiness? Whatever it was, it was more than a little overwhelming, but it only took one glance at the last text Kevin sent you to keep a smile on your face.

~

From: Kevin

I can’t wait to see you, beautiful 💖

~

Simple, but effective. He always knew what to do and say, even when he didn’t know he was doing it. So instead of getting cold feet or freaking out, all you did was put on your favourite playlist and bop around while you got yourself ready. You’d already gotten your usual leg and bikini wax this morning, having planned to wear a slinky black dress with bare legs, and as soon as you shimmied into the dress you knew it was the right choice. Figure hugging without being clingy, sexy as well as classy – a little black dress is a classic for a reason. After putting on a little makeup and a pair of your favourite heels, you were ready.

Kevin had insisted on picking you up so he could drive the two of you to the restaurant, rather than meeting there, and he arrived to yours right on time. But as you opened the front door of your apartment to greet him, his face was a little stunned, and he was uncharacteristically silent. Huh.

“Everything okay, Kev?” you asked hesitantly.

He quickly nodded, the stunned look on his face slipping into a wide smile.

“You just look so beautiful. Caught me off guard,” he shrugged.

You felt your cheeks heat up with warmth, and you batted your hand at his chest, making him laugh. Ridiculous man.

“Well, you scrub up pretty well yourself,” you teased.

A crisp white button-up shirt, a nice fitted pair of jeans and tailored jacket? Such a good look on him. Kevin just grinned at your words, ducking his head to kiss you softly, making your breath hitch in your throat. Yeah, this was going to be a good night.

“Ready to go?” he asked, as he broke the embrace.

“Yeah, let me just grab a jacket,”

The drive to the restaurant was short and smooth – a Spanish tapas place, on recommendation from Claude – and you were shown to your table immediately, Kevin pulling out your chair for you with a bright smile on his face.

“Welcome! Here are your menus – would you like to see the drinks menu too, or do you know what you would like?”

You looked from the waiter to Kevin with a shrug, to see him looking at you with a hopeful smile. Huh. He already planned this out, didn’t he? So you just nodded at him and smiled back.

“Can we have a glass of Rosado each?” Kevin asked, smiling effortlessly.

“Of course, I will be back momentarily,”

As the waiter walked away, you raised an eyebrow at Kevin, who just shrugged a little bashfully.

“I never have any clue which wine goes with what. So I asked Claude when he recommended this place – a few of the guys around us chimed in with their thoughts too, and apparently Rosado goes with tomato-y garlic-y things. I figured that’s the majority of what we’d be eating, so I hope that’s okay” Kevin explained.

The fact that he had put so much thought into tonight, asking his friends and really researching, made your heart clench, and it was all you could do to nod. He really was so sweet – no-one had ever put in this much effort for you before.

A silence fell over you for a moment, not awkward, but still not fully comfortable, until you looked at Kevin and the both of you huffed out a laugh.

“This is weird, right?” you giggled.

“Nah, not if we don’t let it be,” he shrugged, smiling.

His ease and nonchalance was something to be jealous of, that much was true.

“So confident, Mr Hayes,” you mused, raising an eyebrow.

“Easy to be confident when I’ve got the most beautiful person in the room sitting opposite me,” he replied smoothly.

Oh so smooth.

“Kev…” you groaned, hiding your face with a hand.

“Come on, I’ve been wanting to say these things for years! Indulge me,” he teased.

Years. The very thought of it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You think I haven’t had my moments of weakness? Where I’ve thought about us over the years?” you asked simply, raising an eyebrow as you lowered your hand back into your lap.

Kevin inhaled sharply, making you smile. Good.

“I like that you have. Thought about us, I mean. I just can’t believe how stupid we’ve been. We’ve wasted so much time,” Kevin sighed.

You reached across the table, resting your hand on top of his with a smile. “We’re here now, right? That’s all that matters,”

“Yeah exactly,” he nodded.

Then he bit his bottom lip, as if he was hesitating on something, making you smile a little more.

“What is it, Kev?” you asked softly.

He stayed silent for another beat or two, before he looked at you intensely.

“I see my future with you, sweetheart,” he blurted. Oh wow. “And yeah, maybe that’s too soon to say, but this isn’t some brand new fresh thing – this has been building for years, and now that we’re finally together, it just feels so right, y’know?”

Your heart clenched at his sweet words, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. Fuck. Who knew a hockey player could be so open and in touch with their feelings? Well, it was Kevin after all. Might as well speak your own thoughts too.

“It does feel so right. I’ve never felt anything for anyone like I feel for you,” you admitted.

Kevin’s answering smile was a little stunned and a little helpless. “Fuck, same. Same for me,”

You ignored the butterflies filling your stomach, looking down at the menu in front of you to stop your smile going stupid. What was it about this man that made you feel so different? His honesty? His smile? His laugh? Fuck, all of that and more. All you did know was that you didn’t want it to stop.

The date continued on to become the best date you had ever been on. Not that you were surprised – it was Kevin after all, and you already knew there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do if it would make you smile. And you were quickly learning how true it was for you too. Having all that adoration, that attention, that smile focused solely on you? It was addictive, and you didn’t want it directed towards anyone else. You wanted his whole heart, you knew that much already, and you could only hope that he wanted the same from you.

Both of you only had one glass of wine with your food, as Kevin was driving you home, and by the time the two of you had reached the front door of your apartment (Kevin had insisted on walking you to your front door, even though it was an apartment building), you felt giddy. Giddy and ridiculous and unbelievably happy. This was it, this was what you had been waiting for. This moment, this knowledge, that same confidence in this thing with Kevin that he’d had all along. You only wished it hadn’t taken you so long.

But you were here now, that’s all that mattered. You and Kevin, together. As it should be.

As you unlocked your front door, you felt yourself pausing in the doorway, Kevin making a questioning noise as you stopped moving. You bit your bottom lip gently, before taking a deep breath to steel your nerves. “Do you want to come in?” you asked, looking up into those beautiful blue eyes.

Kevin’s lips parted in surprise, a stunned expression filling his face.

“Like, come in come in?” he asked, voice a little breathy.

The sheer want in his voice made you shiver, and you knew you’d made the right decision in asking him. You could basically taste the tension between you as you nodded slowly, Kevin swaying forward as if he couldn’t help himself.

But then he stopped, freezing still, making you frown.

“Are you sure? Like, it’s not too soon?” he forced out, eyes a little wild.

So you quickly shook your head, smiling at him checking.

“Kev, it’s us, right?”

He’d been saying it for weeks, that being together was just a next step in your strong foundation of friendship, so both of you giving in to that obvious desire wouldn’t ruin anything at all. You wanted him…he wanted you…so why not take things up another notch?

“Yeah, it’s us. Endgame, baby,” Kevin grinned.

And just like that, the tension burst like a balloon, making you laugh. Yeah, this was the man you were in love with alright.

“Come on loverboy,” you laughed, rolling your eyes fondly, “Let’s not give my neighbours a show,”

Kevin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows as he followed you into your apartment, making you laugh all over again. There was none of that nervous apprehension you’d felt with other guys before – it was all just excitement, fizzing and buzzing through your skin, and your mind swirled with ideas.

Stripping him down slowly, piece by piece.

Getting your mouth on him, every inch of his body, especially his cock.

Having him pin you down on your bed, all gorgeous 6ft5 of him surrounding you in the best way.

Fuck.

“I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on you since I saw you in that dress,”

Kevin’s soft words tore you out of your lustful thoughts, and you moaned softly at the shiver it sent up your spine. Fuck yes, you were getting laid tonight and it was going to be good.

“Then how about you get your hands on me?” you suggested, corner of your lips lifting up in a smirk.

He wasted no time in pressing you into the nearest wall, barely making it out of the entrance hallway, and you laughed as his hands went straight to your ass.

“Feeling better?” you mused, toying with the top button of his shirt.

This wasn’t a fiery desperate rush, crashing about, rough and riling up – no this was a slow build-up of lust and want, much like your relationship had been a slow build-up. No, this was a slow seduction, sweet and all-consuming, bodies moving in sync and taking what they wanted. And you couldn’t fucking wait.

“Hmm, a little,” Kevin grinned back.

“Only a little huh?” you teased.

“Oh I have a few ideas of what could help,” he murmured.

The flash of heat in his eyes sent a flare of heat through your body, and you couldn’t help but to dart your tongue out to wet your bottom lip, Kevin’s eyes tracking the motion, making you smile. But you had no time to tease him before he took your lips in a kiss, making you whimper at how quickly it got heated before Kevin broke away with a gasp, leaving your head spinning.

“So that’s one idea,” he grinned.

Oh fuck, this man was going to ruin you. But not before you ruined him a little bit first.

“What’s your next idea?” you breathed.

Kevin just grinned, stepping backwards a little bit, making you whine before you could stop yourself.

“Stay right where you are, beautiful. Keep your eyes on me,”

That you could do. You dramatically placed your hands against the wall, making him laugh as he dropped his jacket carelessly to the floor, and his fingers went to the top button of his shirt. He kept his eyes on you as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his strong broad chest inch by inch until he was able to drop it to the floor, leaving him in just his jeans. Fuck. You would never be able to get enough of the sight of him like this, let alone the touch (and you couldn’t wait for the taste) – the strength in his shoulders, his chest, his core, his arms…fuck.

“Get back over here,” you said, voice low and rough.

Kevin inhaled sharply, and he wasted no time in stumbling back over to you, arms caging you in against the wall in a way that made you want.

“Great second idea. What’s next?” you breathed.

Fuck. This was winding you up and up and up and you knew the night had barely even started.

“I want…can I taste you?” he blurted.

What? But before you could ask what he meant, Kevin dropped to his knees, making you gasp. Oh fuck. Oh yes.

“You want to be on your knees for me?” you asked, swallowing heavily.

“Yeah, so bad,” Kevin nodded, a little desperate.

Well how could you say no to that?

Biting your bottom lip, you reached up under your dress, hooking your fingers into the sides of your panties and tugging them down. Kevin whined as his view was blocked by the skirt of your dress but you just grinned. This was the least he deserved for stripping his shirt off so slowly. You let your panties drop to the floor when they were past the thickness of your thighs and slowly stepped out of them, kicking them to one side.

His move.

Kevin’s eyes were wide and dark as he raised his hands to rest on your thighs, lips slightly parted.

“Please, can I?” he murmured, thumbs brushing under the skirt hem.

Fuck. This was all too much, the desire, his patience, his asking. Bring it on.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you nodded, inhaling sharply.

He slowly dragged the skirt of your dress up to your hips, moaning softly under his breath when you were revealed bare to him. One of his hands bunched up the dress to hold it in place, the other placed large and firm on your thigh, and his thumb lightly stroked over the wetness in your folds…before he stopped.

Kevin looked up at you, wordless asking one last time. And you just nodded, too overwhelmed in the moment to utter any words, your heart racing at the very sight of him kneeling so comfortably between your thighs. With a smile, he shuffled a little closer to you, ducking his head to place a reverent kiss to your clit, making you gasp, earning a soft laugh.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Kevin mumbled, mostly to himself.

Then he ducked his head down and dove right in, tongue running over your folds in a wide stripe, his tongue flicking at your clit in a way that made you gasp. Fuck. How was he so good at this, straight off the bat? You could feel him smirking against your skin, before his tongue flicked at your clit again, and you couldn’t stop your hips bucking to chase the feeling. Fuck. The hand holding your dress out of the way adjusted to rest across your hips, pinning you to the wall, as his tongue ran back and forth over your core, gathering and tasting your wetness, dipping in and out of you, making you clench down on nothing. You didn’t hold back the soft moans that spilled from your lips, your body trembling with how good he made you feel. But as you clenched down empty again, you knew you could feel even better.

“More, Kev, please?” you begged.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned, resting his forehead against your hip.

You giggled, pushing his hair out of his eyes so he would look up at you.

“I want more,” you said firmly, eyes holding his in challenge.

And fuck did he rise to the challenge.

Kevin buried his face back between your thighs, eagerly running his tongue back and forth over you, into you, winding you up higher and higher, until he backed off to just sucking on your clit. Then you realised why he’d changed tactic, as his fingers moved to trail through your folds. With a fingertip teasing at your entrance, Kevin looked up at you, those big blue eyes questioning, and it was all you could do to nod. Leisurely Kevin slid a finger into you, letting you get used to the intrusion before he started to move it, gentle and slow, sending sparks up your spine and making your eyes clench shut. Then his teeth scraped over your clit and you wailed at the electricity that shot through your body, eyes flying open to glare down at him, wild and weak-kneed. Kevin’s eyes just sparkled with laughter, and he wasted no time in sliding in a second finger, sucking at your clit in the same rhythm in which he fucked his fingers into you. Fuck. You could feel a familiar heat start to build and you moaned – it wasn’t fair how quickly he learned the cues of your body.

Two can play at that game.

“You look so good on your knees for me,” you breathed, running your fingers through his messy hair.

Kevin’s eyes flashed with fire as he moaned at your words, sending a shockwave through you, making you gasp. Good. He leaned back slightly, tongue darting out over his swollen lips, before he smirked.

“You look so good with my fingers inside you,” he rasped back, curling both fingers over and over again in a come hither motion, “Going to look even better on my cock,”

Game, set, and match. Fuck. You cried out as the onslaught of his fingers sent you crashing through your high, Kevin smirking before he returned his tongue to lick between the two digits, prolonging the wave of pleasure until you were shaking and overwhelmed. Kevin backed off a little bit, leaning back to sit on his heels, but his face radiated smugness, of a job well done, even as the hard line of his cock strained against the denim of his jeans.

It was all you could do to fall to your knees to join him, straddling his lap lightly as you fought to regain control over your breathing, his hands going straight to your hips where your dress had fallen back down.

“Fuck, Kev,” you said with a shaky laugh.

He just smirked, wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh for real. Ridiculous man. Without saying another word, you rested one hand against his bare chest, lifting the other hand to cup his face. You stroked your thumb over the wetness lingering on his bottom lip, before pressing down lightly on that lip to get him to open his mouth, and Kevin took the hint straight away, accepting your thumb into his mouth. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the sight of him closing his plush lips around it, sucking the wetness away, the same wetness that was still between your thighs.

Then his teeth scraped over the pad of your thumb, imitating his treatment of your clit, making you moan and clench down on nothing, even more evident where your thighs were spread across his lips.

“You’re such a tease,” you gasped, pulling your thumb free.

“Not a tease if I’m planning on following through,” Kevin said simply, smirk still playing with his expression.

The intensity in his eyes paired with the way his hands squeezed your hips sent a shiver up your spine, and you let a small smirk of your own drift across your lips.

“Hmm, yes, you said something about how good I’ll look with your cock inside me?” you murmured.

The noise that tore from Kevin’s throat was barely human, more feral than anything else, and the want in his eyes sent a wave of heat through your body. Fuck, yes.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, “I know I just said it in the heat of the moment, but do you…do you want…”

“Yeah, Kev, I want,” you nodded quickly.

Kevin all but growled. “Hook your legs around my waist,” he said firmly.

What?

And then you felt his abs tense, as Kevin anchored himself to stand up from the floor with you in his arms, and you shrieked as you hurried to do as he said, hooking your ankles together against the swell of his ass.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” you breathed, arms firmly around his neck as he held you securely.

It was all you could do not to think about how your bare core was pressed against his abs. Fuck.

“Yeah?” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Take me to bed, Kev,”

Kevin swallowed heavily, his eyes flashing dark and serious.

“Yes ma’am,”

*

A party was never just a simple party when Kevin Hayes was involved. Music was pounding, beer was flowing, shots were poured, and weed was an easy haze on the back porch. At all the parties he’d thrown like this in the past, you’d always drifted to and from him, flitting from group to group just like he did, always separate. But this time, no – this time you were sitting on the sofa with his arm wrapped around your waist, leaning into his body because now you could.

And fuck did it feel good.

“So, tell us, how does it feel to be finally be called Kevin’s girl, rather than Kevin’s New York girl?” Claude grinned.

Ah yes, that nickname. Finally, it could die.

“Feels pretty fucking sweet actually,” you said simply.

Everyone on the sofas around you burst into laughter, and you could feel the rumble of Kevin’s own laughter deep in his chest. You couldn’t help but look up at him with a smile, earning an adoring smile back, as well as a soft kiss. Yeah, this was exactly where you wanted to be. 

 “How did you two actually meet?” Ryanne asked, smiling, “Like, I know you’ve been friends for years…but how?”

You found yourself smiling as you looked back up at Kevin, and he smiled down at you. It was true, you really had been friends with him for years at this point. And your first meeting was pretty funny.

“Go ahead,” Kevin shrugged.

His loss.

“Alright, so it went like this…”

~

Sunday night was grocery run night – and this week was no different. You walked into the lobby of your apartment building with both your arms full, trying to figure out how you were going to call the elevator, when you noticed a very tall guy already waiting, the elevator call button pressed. Huh, that solved that problem.

He smiled as you stopped next to him, giving you a little nod. “Hey,”

Holy shit this guy is hot. No, not the time. Tall…hot…great smile…no, focus. Be cool.

“Oh hey, you’re one of the new guys, right?” you smiled, tilting your head to look up at him.

“Yeah, I’m Kevin. I just got a place with my buddies Jimmy and Brady. A couple of floors up from you, right?”

Oh wow. He froze as your eyes widened in surprise, and groaned.

“I swear I’m not a creep?” he offered, wincing, “I’m just really good with faces,”

For some reason, you believed him. Call it intuition, or vibes, or whatever. This guy was being genuine. Huh.

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” you teased.

His shoulders slumped a little as if releasing tension, making you smile. As if by fate, the elevator pinged its arrival, and Kevin gestured for you to enter first before following you in.

“So,”

“So,”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you spoke in unison, Kevin just grinning. Oops.

“Go ahead,” you mused.

“I was going to say, if you fancy meeting my other flatmates too, we’re having a little housewarming of sorts. Like, a bunch of our friends are coming over, sort of a drop in and out whenever time kind of thing. It’d be nice to meet you properly, and show you I’m not actually a weirdo? Friday, if you’re free?”

Oh wow. That was really…sweet? Sure, it could blow up in your face, and he could actually be a creep…but again, those intuitive vibes were saying he wasn’t. And it definitely beats sitting at home and eating cold pizza. Again.

And damn, if his flatmates looked anything like him? Eye candy for days.

“Friday huh? I could do Friday,” you said simply, trying to keep your cool.

His answering smile let you know you’d made the right decision.

~

“…and after that, we became really good friends, all four of us. He never flirted with me after that time in the elevator and I tried my hardest not to flirt with him. I stayed in touch with Kev when he went to the Jets and then here to the Flyers, and he was one of the first people I got in contact with when my job moved me to Philadelphia. And then everything changed a few weeks ago. The rest is history,” you shrugged.

Kevin grinned, although he definitely had a blush on his cheeks.

“You were such a creep,” Claude said, laughing.

Kevin blushed a little fiercer. “It just came out! Of course I noticed the prettiest girl in the building – that was the least awful way I could’ve said it,”

You rolled your eyes as his friends hooted and jeered, although you felt your cheeks heat up with warmth.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?” you teased.

“I got there in the end, didn’t I?” he shot back with a dramatic wink.

“Only took you a few years,” Nolan snorted.

Kevin just grinned, unashamed.

It may have taken a few years, but Kevin was right – you had gotten there in the end. All the years of self-doubt and insecurity, thinking you’d never be more than just friends, had resulted in a beautiful – if unexpected – relationship. A build-up of such a solid foundation of friendship over the past four years had already given you the opportunity to learn so much about him – and you couldn’t wait to learn even more. To learn about Kevin, the boyfriend. And, maybe even more than that, if you were lucky. Yes, unexpected as this may have been, you were in this for the long haul. And you couldn’t wait.

[neoffle]

friendzone fight-off

pairing: doyoung x reader / friends to lovers au

warnings: mature themes (but no action), swearing, 'cause you’re hot and you’re cold you’re yes then you’re no—

3.2k of my word vomit,, enjoy!

“Sleeping with your best friend isn’t so bad.”

You suddenly can’t breathe and watch as Joy attempt to soothe your back for you, snickering at your blubbering mess. Where was Irene when you needed her? 

Oh yeah. 

She’s too busy hooking up with the hot part-timer Kang Seulgi.

“You don’t understand Sooyoung,” you resorted to using her real name instead of the nicknames you made in middle school. 

“He’s my male best friend.” 

Joy snorts as she sips on her uselessly pretty pink drink. “Yeah, and so?” She pushes her drink aside to lean in closer to you. “Be honest.” She whisper talks. “How is he in bed?”

You throw your head onto your crossed arms and try to block off any of Joy’s attempts in trying to get into the juicy details.

If you were sober enough,

there was no way that you would ever get into his bed… that way. 

Sleepovers are normal for the both of you… but nothing ever went past platonic cuddling and so on. There was always a strict line in between your friendship that you wouldn’t dare cross. 

You know how easy it is to fuck up a relationship, and no way in hell were you going to waste such a good friendship, built on years of experience.

“Don’t torment her too much Sooyoung,” Irene comes with the tray of cakes, catching the both of your attention.

Joy grabs her favourite flavour as soon as the eldest female set the tray down and dug a fork into it. “Then tell her she needs to stop acting as if the world just ended.” She inhales the sugary piece. “Did you get the part-timer’s number yet?”

To this, Irene’s expression darkens but she sits down anyway and sips on her drink. “No. But we’re making progress.”

Joy’s definitely the brunt of the three because she’s off laughing her ass about how it’s been a month since and the so-called ‘goddess Bae Joohyun’ is failing terribly at courtship. 

“Good things take time,” you quoted, most probably somewhere off tumblr. 

“Yeah,” Irene exhales, playing around with her straw. “And like I said, we’re making progress.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the midget step like?” 

You elbowed Joy purposefully at this, giving her a dirty look to stop teasing Irene before the elder dropkicks the younger into the third dimension. 

“She gave me,” Irene’s long locks whip back to grab an object from her bag, pressing it dangerously close to Joy’s face, “this.”

Both you and Joy gave each other understanding glances, smiling at how simple it is to stroke the goddess’ ego once you’ve tamed her enough.

“A cookie,” Joy smiles rather sickly sweet. 

“Nice.”

———

You ended up parting from the duo to go home early, leaving them to do a bit of bar-hopping. It’ll most probably go on until early morning and you dread the hangover once you’re done— so you take a bit of responsibility for yourself and head home, just slightly tipsy.

The glass of wine you had after leaving the cafe, (where the love of Irene’s life awaits), along with the bar food paired perfectly with the night. 

Your little problem ended up back in the cupboard (as it has not been discussed since joy was sober enough— which was when you brought it up at the cafe) and you sigh as you watch people walk by, attempting to sort out your mind before you reach back home.

What the hell were you going to do about the dreaded awkwardness that’s going to surface in between the two of you?

Everything felt like a blur around you and as you enter the apartment complex and head up the elevator, your distressed exhales don’t stop. 

Even as you enter the pin to the apartment and undid your shoes, staring blankly at the carpet, the sighs won’t stop.

And even as you take a seat on the sofa and lay down horizontally,

it didn’t stop.

Your mind is packed full of your best friend. The guy whom you’ve known since like— forever. Sometimes it feels as if he was more than a friend, but not quite a lover in your eyes. 

What were you going to do about Kim Dong—

“(y/n)?” There’s a shuffle from the bedroom, and you halt in your tracks, knowing this voice anywhere.

So you sit up so quick that a headache strikes. Massaging your temples, you watch as the man in question, Kim Dongyoung, aka Doyoung, carefully approaches you from the door frame, dressed in a simple muscle tee and plain, black boxers. 

Your face is probably already red due to the alcohol— but you didn’t need him to know that he just escalated the symptoms. 

And honestly, 

you didn’t need a reminder of two yesterdays ago. 

Doyoung takes a seat next to you— but with a respectful space you don’t usually see because he enjoys squishing you to a corner usually and casually putting his arm around you. 

“Uhm, hi,” you offered, but your eyes are averted and somehow the amount of photos Doyoung has on his walls are fascinating to count.

Your best friend doesn’t quite talk for a few minutes, watching from the sidelines as he sees your eyes shake. He rubs at his nape, knowing that it’ll take time to coax you into engaging in a proper conversation with him. He knows what was wrong and honestly, he thought you’d need more time to come into terms with it than just a plain two days. 

But anything goes for him— albeit that you’re not really sober— judging from how red in the face you are. 

“Were you… drinking?” He starts, hoping that you’ll at least turn to look at him when answering this.

And to his pleasure, you did. 

Peeking over your shoulders, you gave him a timid nod. “Irene was having a hard time dating the part-timer I told you about a few weeks ago and Joy just wants a reason to not stay sober.” It was a habit for you to spill everything to him. It didn’t even pass your mind that you’re still overly cautious of what to say— but the report rolled out of your tongue like butter and you did it faster than your brain could register the comment. 

Doyoung shows you a rather grateful-looking smile, finally relaxing the muscles he’s been tensing since he heard you come through his door. 

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. “Why are you here?”

The male beside you stares at you with a raised brow— but then realised your semi-drunken state— and to this, he grins further. “I live here you trespasser,” he knocks your forehead lightly with his knuckles, watching as your eyes widen in realisation, a gasp to accompany your surprise.

“Oh, uhm, errr— I’m going!” You shot up, surprising Doyoung in return. 

Just as you were about to gather your beige tote bag, encasing your fingers along the the long straps, a hand reaches up to grab onto you, holding you back.

“It’s late,” Doyoung glances from the carpet and into the depth of your eyes. It feels rather peculiar looking at him from this perspective… it wasn’t quite platonic and you weren’t sure how to face him in the coming morning— at least when the alcohol wears off.

“I’ll take the couch, so go wash up and sleep here.” He says, though there’s a soft stutter in between each breaths. It wasn’t the almighty confident Kim Dongyoung you knew— and if things didn’t happen a few days ago— you were so sure you’d take this opportunity to tease him for a bit. His eyes cast themselves away once again, adjusting his voice a bit. “I won’t go into the room, I promise.”

This was so weird. 

Why are relationship always so complicated?

You sit back down, letting your bag fall onto the floor. “Doyoung,” you pause a bit, attempting to rearrange your thoughts. His grip on your wrist loosens until it dissapears and he bends slightly forward, elbows on top of his thighs. “We’ll… talk when I’m not intoxicated— but how long have we been friends for? I know you won’t do anything to me without consent… so let’s just do this normally.”

He’s very surprised at your revelation— eyes almost bulging out of it’s socket. “(y/n) aren’t you unco—”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes. “I’m so sick of avoiding you okay.”

“I was sick of being avoided like a plague too you know,” he sounded more like the sassy best friend you know. Doyoung’s up before you when he takes your bag and extends a friendly hand. “And I missed you a lot too.”

It’s only been a mere two days and the both of you felt discouraged being separated. It wasn’t easy going from being two peas in a pod to a single person. 

Everything felt so lonely— especially as the both of you were currently single.

It’s only been a month since you were single— but that’s for another story to tell. 

Doyoung leads you to his bedroom, which you know by heart, considering how you found yourself in his apartment without realising anything…

It says a lot about how much time you spend in the comfort of his home. 

You take the cue to head to his bathroom to take a quick shower and wash off the sunscreen you had on, grabbing a fresh towel in the cupboards as per usual. 

Before you could strip down your clothes, you hear a soft knock on the bathroom door, and you know that your best friend’s back with pyjamas. 

“I got you the stripy long ones you left last time,” a hand reached out through the cracks as you opened the door for him, cackling as he turns his whole shoulders and face the other way, thinking that you might be somewhat exposed.

When he heard you laughing, Doyoung’s brows knitted together in question. “Are you going to drown in the sink? Just how drunk are you?” He figured that you were laughing out of alcohol— but you’re partly sober now and the sight of Doyoung being so courteous wasn’t rare— but it’s been a while since you saw it. 

(Like two days = a while.)

“I’m fine,” you retorted, grabbing the necessities he provided and closing the door to change and to brush your teeth before bed.

You came out feeling much more refreshed and was greeted by the sight of Doyoung finishing with changing his covers. 

“What’s the occasion…?” You look over his shoulder, stunning him. 

“Don’t creep on me like that,” he clutched onto his heart, eyes wide. 

There’s a beat of silence before he continued, “I just felt like it.” But oh boy, you knew something else was there. 

You try to analyse each and every one of his moves previously and matched it to his personality— which you know inside out and under. 

“Let me guess,” the corner of your lips started to hike under your assumptions, “you haven’t gone out of bed much for like two days?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes at this, (a signature of his), and you just smile. 

Bingo. 

“I went to work,” he finished up with dusting the covers one last time. “Obviously.”

“That’s so cute,” you giggle into your hands, and Doyoung’s ears redden at this— although you didn’t quite notice in your  semi-drunk state.

“Hurry up and sleep. Your boss might be nice but Taeyong’s going to scold me for letting you drink during a weekday.”

You climb into the covers after him, relishing the way that your legs glided in smoothly. There was nothing like a new change of bed covers after all. It felt like heaven. 

Like a habit, you throw one arm and leg over Doyoung’s stiffened form, the thought of that night slipping past your mind. Gone like the wind. 

Doyoung, who had his back towards you, gradually turn over under half your weight, raising a stern brow at you. “Are you forgetting something?”

Your eyes are closed at this point, mind slowly drifting into sleep. “What is it?”

“Your conscience,” Doyoung flicks a soft blow at your forehead. He takes a good look at your features, watching as you giggle snort in your sleep. What a weirdo. An adorable weirdo he has for a best friend. 

He tucks the loose strands off your face and behind your ear, heart melting at the way you snuggled into his touch. 

To him, 

you were making it very hard to stay as a friend.

———

In your opinion, mornings and hangovers don’t mix very well. Add drowsiness to the terrible headache and last night’s choice— it’s practically a stew for trouble.

From the moment you opened your eyes, a familiar yet an alarming environment greeted you. In shock, you scrambled up and was immediately hit by the devil of an ache. Your temples throb as you reached over at the bedside table and grabbed the cure and the glass of water next to it. 

There’s distinct sounds coming from outside and you sigh as you grabbed onto your face.

Hey, at least you weren’t naked this time around.

Dreading it, you got out of bed and tracked a slow trudge towards the kitchen, where the backside of your best friend greets you.

On the other hand, Doyoung exhales a large amount of air as he tries to put up the most casual demeanour he could muster at that point in time, noticing you creeping up from the bedroom.

“Morning (y/n),” he calls in a jolly manner, but the strain on his lips told you otherwise. 

“Oh, uh, hi Kim Dongyoung.”

Smooth.

Doyoung’s eyes judges you real hard, despite the smile that’s faltering to stay on. Even so, he gestures you to sit and hands you over a freshly cooked batch of your favourite blueberry pancakes. It has the right amount of honey and butter on top and of course Doyoung would never get it wrong. 

He sits opposite you and coughs into his palm to get your strayed attention.

“Should we talk this out like adults since we have,” he stops to check his watch, “exactly fifteen minutes before you need to get ready and I have to head out.”

You nod solemnly, poking around the pancakes you loved so much. If this was any other day, you would be scarfing down the whole plate like a dog— since Doyoung rarely makes them— claiming that they’re ‘unhealthy’. 

You guess that the plate was a consolation prize of some sort, glancing at Doyoung’s equally nerved features.

“I’m sorry I avoided you,” you opened up first, knowing that it was wrong of you to do it in the first place. 

It’s just— something like this would have never crossed your mind and you feared the aftermath of the whole event. 

“You’re forgiven,” he nods, licking his bottom lip cautiously. “I’m sorry for being irresponsible that night.”

So it was like that? Forgive and forget kind of scenario?

Your lips twist into bitter distaste as you poked around the blueberries on plate. On one hand, a part of you felt so relieved to be ending this forty-eight hour dilemma— but on the other hand, you’re quite disappointed that he’s writing it off like this. It was a hard feeling to digest. 

Doyoung raises a brow at your quiet demeanour. On any normal day, there was no way silence would weave in between the two of you— but recently, its been all there is. 

“(y/n) we’ve only got three minutes left of this conversation before you’re going to avoid me again for another few days.” Doyoung grits out, having enough of this damned silence.

You’re pouting when you glance up at him, as if you were a child being scolded by their mother. 

“What? Seriously, what do you want from me? I’m trying to tie this all up and go back to being the great friends we are.” He hissed, fingers gripping onto the handle of his mug. 

“What if I don’t want to be friends?!” You yelled, standing up from your seat. 

“Oh yeah?” Doyoung mimics your action, squaring his shoulders. “So you’re saying you want to be more?” He scoffs. “Sure, that’s totally reasonable after ghosting me for so long!”

“Shut up. Two days isn’t a long time! It’s a perfect length to rethink about possibly poor life decisions!”

“You!” He points an angry index finger at you. “Are you trying to sell me off as a bad decision! Is that what all of this is? Fuck, you’re so—“

“Don’t swear at me. You’re being a very bad adult Dongyoung.” You mocked, sidestepping out of your seat and standing a feet away from him.

Arguing like its raining cats and dogs with Doyoung was nothing new. You shouldn’t feel so exhilarated by the feeling but— you can’t help but feel the pressure of all this sexual tension in between the two of you. Now you wonder… has it always been there, pushed to a corner— or did you miraculously develop an obsession for him after a one night stand?

The stare-off between the two of you lasted for a good minute, leaving you with sixty seconds left to this doomsday countdown. 

Doyoung’s blatantly burning a hole on your lips, licking his own unconsciously. “So if I kiss you, what happens?”

“We stop being friends of course.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you fix up the crease on the collar of his work shirt. 

“Then,” he’s only mere seconds away from closing the distance between the two of you. “What would we be?”

Fluttering your lashes up at him, you could only smirk at the raise of his brows, unsure if he’s even breathing at this stage. 

“I don’t kno—“ Doyoung crashes his lips against yours, the sense of urgency bringing flashback to the fateful night. He wraps his arms around you, as if anxious that you would push him off again.

Closing your eyes, you savoured the aftertaste of coffee lingers in his mouth, whimpering as you slowly run out of air. Doyoung senses this, parting, wiping at the sides of his mouth using the back of his hands.

“Promise me you won’t run away again?” He brings up his pinkie, gesturing you to return the sentiment. 

Rolling your eyes, you grudgingly seal the deal. “No shit sherlock, why else would I kiss you back? You’re not a charity case.”

He clicks his tongue at that, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. “Don’t swear (y/n), you’re being a terrible adult.” 

“Haha, you’re so funny Dongyoung.” You mocked his tone.

“Oh yeah, you know what else is funny?” Doyoung closes the gap once more, a hand reaching out for behind you. 

You think he’s about to initiate another intimate moment, eyes blinking up at him and lips puckering. 

He chuckles at your actions, lips pressed against your ear. 

“That you’re late for work,” he yanks his bag from behind you, sending you a salute before heading out the door. 

You’re left as a frozen statue, attempting to process his words. 

In a split second, realisation and dread paints your face. You quickly rush to Doyoung’s bedroom, knowing you had a spare change of work clothes in there. 

Despite the saint Taeyong is, he’s unable to tolerate hangovers and tardiness at the same time— it has to be one or another— according to his rocket science. 

You curse Doyoung with all your heart for distracting you again. 

In your mind, a parrot with his voice mocks you. 

You’re being a terrible adult (y/n). Don’t swear (y/n).

[icefire149]

Happy Birthday Dean Winchester!!! 

I wanted to write a little something and this ended up spiraling into something longer than I planned.  (2,231 words) (Also please forgive me for any spelling errors. It’s after 3am) Enjoy!~

/////

For Dean, the weeks and months following Chuck’s defeat went by in a dizzying, unrecognizable blur. Despite Sam and Eileen’s best efforts to take care of Dean, he spent the majority of his time buried deep in the bunker’s archive. A lot of the time Jack is with him.

There was an ache in his chest that feared what stupid things he might have done by now if the kid wasn’t right there. Helping him. Talking to him. Actually getting to bond with him without Chuck’s interference. It was the one good thing in this fucked up situation right now.

So far their search for anything about the Empty was a disaster. There was virtually nothing. More and more often Jack would apologize. With his new position as God, yes, he could make a doorway into the Empty. That much they did know for a fact. But could he put them to sleep? Could he kill them? What would be the consequences of that?

The only other thing that they knew for certain was that the Empty could claw their way into Heaven and tear it all down. That was the only thing that was keeping Jack from snapping his fingers and restoring Cas right then and there.

It was tearing them both apart, but regardless, they continued their search.

Today, Dean opened his eyes and rolled onto his back. It was his birthday. Most years he spent it like any other normal day, but this one….after the Mrs. Butters incident…Sam and him had decided they should be throwing real celebrations. It was one thing when they were living out of motel rooms and the impala. It was completely understandable. But now they have a permanent home. So why not?

He knew now why not…..there was no point in celebrating a man that’s only half here.

Dean closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep the day away. He didn’t realize that he had fallen back asleep until he was startled awake by a pounding on his bedroom door. He shot up to a sitting position in bed, chest pounding and eyes wide with fear. It was a moment before he realized that he was in his room and not….

“Hey Dean? You up yet?”

His heart rate was still slowing, but he recognized the voice. Sam.

“I’m awake now. What’d you want?”

“Lunch is ready. I figured you’d wanna eat by now.”

“Fine. Be up soon.”

When Dean was dressed and ready as he would ever be, he opened his bedroom door. He stood there blinking in confusion for several moments. There were balloons tied to the doors of every room down the hallway.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he followed the balloons into the kitchen where the party decorations looked like they threw up. There was a happy birthday banner over the kitchen doorway and balloons….so many goddamn balloons everywhere.

“Surprise!” Jack popped up out of his chair and crossed the kitchen to hug him. “Sam let me decorate for your birthday. He told me I had to contain it to one room though.”

Jack took a step back with a look of concern. “Is that okay?”

“What about the hallway?”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. “A hallway by definition isn’t a room.”

That set Dean off in a fit of belly deep laughter. He slapped a reassuring hand onto Jack’s shoulder. “You did awesome kid.”

Jack’s mouth pulled into a beaming smile. He went back to where he was sitting, and Sam came into the kitchen.

“Good. I didn’t think you were ever getting up.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Good to see your face too, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes and started pulling plates out. Dean went and sat by Jack.

“So what’s for lunch? I’m not seeing anything.”

Sam brought the plates over. “Well, you slept through the pancakes Jack helped me make this morning. Eileen should be here any minute with lunch.”

Dean shot Jack a look. “Sorry kid.”

“It’s okay. They were really good.”

“What’s Eileen bringing?” Dean turned his attention to Sam, but before he could answer Eileen came walking through the door.

“I hope everyone’s hungry.” She placed a stack of three white boxes on the table.

The familiar bakery smell hit him instantly. He pointed at the boxes. “Is that?”

Eileen grinned and crossed her arms. “Sam told me you liked pie.”

“Thank you, you majestic, wonderful being.” He turned his gaze to Sam. “You better marry her.”

That got Eileen laughing while Sam ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed.

Dean grinned and made eye contact with Eileen. “I’m so sorry, I know you can do so much better than Sam too.”

She laughed again, and then her mouth curled into a teasing smile. “I know, Dean. I know.”

“OKAY.” Sam clapped his hands together. “Can we move on from the embarrassing Sam portion of today?”

They eventually did. For a long time the three of them sat in the kitchen laughing, telling stories, and eating way too much pie. At one point Sam handed a big gift bag to Dean.

“It’s…from Jack and I.” Sam sounded unsure.

“I hope you like it,” Jack added.

Dean opened it to find several wrapped in tissue paper objects. Soon enough he found out that they were all various framed pictures. Silently, he spread them all out over the table so he could stare at them all.

There were pictures going back a decade. Easily. There were so many smiles and glares and candid shots. Fuck they were all so young looking.

Charlie in her Queen of Moondoor costume. Mom with a bowl of popcorn. Kevin and Sam asleep surrounded by piles of books. Claire on her 18th birthday with the ugly stuffed cat doll. Rowena moments before she hexed the camera. Jack looking amazed at the giant multi-scoop ice cream cone Dean bought him against Sam’s wishes. Kevin and Linda at Garth’s safe-houseboat. Dean, Sam, and Bobby at one of the cabins fishing. The hectic attempt at a family photo from Jody’s. Garth and his family. And Cas…..there were so many just of Cas or ones with him present or ones of just the two of them.

Sam coughed awkwardly. “I know you’ve been saying for a couple years now that you wanted to start printing some of the pictures we’ve been dumping onto one of the old laptops. So I thought….”

“Thank you, Sammy.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pictures. Especially the candid he’d never seen before. It was of him and Cas leaning against the side of the impala, completely lost in their own bubble of conversation. Dean felt like there was a cinder block dropped into his stomach. “You did good.”

And he meant it. Still, it hurt to remember everyone he lost.

“Oh, I think you missed one,” Jack said poking at the bag.

He was right, Dean realized when he reached a hand in and pulled out a smaller wrapped frame.

Sam laughed. “I forgot about that one.”

Dean opened it and burst into uncontrollable laughter. It was a picture from his mark of cain days of him and Crowley in matching cowboy hats. As much as he didn’t want to remember those days, he still couldn’t bring himself to delete the picture. “I miss that dumb son of a bitch.”

“Hey!” Sam chimed in. “That’s insulting to Rowena.”

That had Dean laughing again. “Well, she can take a number kicking my ass. You know the moment Cas sees this he’s gonna use it and me as his personal dartboard.”

The words slipped out before he could even process it. Sam’s smile faded. Dean’s laughter turned into crying. No one said anything while Dean fought to compose himself. He was grateful for that.

When Dean’s face was dry and he dared lift his head up, Jack asked him about the people in the photos.  And that’s how they spent the rest of the afternoon. It was hard to imagine his life without Jack being present somewhere so he was happy to indulge the technically toddler in what the people in the pictures were like. All the stories Dean could pull from his memory. It hurt initially, but after a while he felt lighter.

Later that day Dean was taking a break in his room when Sam peeked in the ajar door. “What’d you need, Sam?”

“I-uh…” He stepped into the room. A neatly wrapped in green box with a card on top was in his hands. “I have one last thing to give you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but isn’t another present going overboard? What gives?”

“It’s not from me.”

“Oh. Hand it here then.” Excited, Dean sat on the edge of his bed and held his hands out.

Sam stepped forward, but he didn’t hand the box over. “It’s from Cas.”

Dean’s hands fell down, and Sam was happy he waited. “What’s in the box?”

Sam placed it on the bed next to Dean. He shrugged. “I don’t know. He asked me quite a while ago to hang onto it.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “I figure he thought you’d be least likely to find it if it was in my room.”

Dean cracked a small smile at that. His chest felt like it split open just to ache again. He knew why Cas asked Sam to hold onto it. “Thanks Sammy.”

Sam left the room, closing the door behind him. It took a while before Dean could muster up the courage to open the card.

His hands shook as he pulled the folded over pieces of paper out of the envelope. Turns out instead of a generic store bought card, Cas wrote him a letter. It was a bittersweet sight. Despite how devastated he normally felt whenever he thought about Cas, he was good seeing his handwriting. In his hands was actually a new message from Cas. A message from Cas to him!

Happy Birthday Dean,

If you’re reading this then that means I failed. I wanted to burn this letter to ashes, but clearly I’m not there to do that. I’m so sorry, truly. I’m not sure what could have happened to bring us here, but I need to confess something important. I know you said no more deals when Jack died, but I still made a deal with the Empty anyways.

When I went to Heaven to bring Jack’s soul back to his body things didn’t go as planned. The Empty was furious Jack’s human half sent him to Heaven. It tore through Heaven like it was tissue paper. I did what I had to for Jack, and for Heaven. My life for his.

I don’t regret it. But the Empty did promise not to claim me until I gave myself permission to be truly happy. I’m still trying to puzzle out exactly what that could be. My family on Earth: Sam, Jack, and you - make me happy each and every day. I need you to remember that.

Please be safe and live a happy life. You are so loved by your friends and family. They need you for the next several decades. I mean it Dean. (I may have been curing you of liver and heart disease every year on your birthday. Well fixing to the best of my abilities the damage you keep causing on those poor organs.)

I hope you enjoy the present I picked out. Quite honestly, I got it because it made me laugh.

I miss you.

Castiel

Dean felt like a tangled mess of emotions. He needed to remember to breathe. Minutes later he carefully tore open the green wrapping paper. Curiosity poked at him. With Cas’ odd sense of humor, it could have been anything in the box.

Under the wrapping paper was a generic cardboard box, but inside were a handful of new cassette tapes. Dean fell over to be laying on his side. Laughing happily for quite a while, he studied each and every tape. They were all cassettes of modern music, specifically the pop artists Cas loved so much. The ones Dean used to tease Cas about while they’d be out on long drives.

He immediately knew which memory Cas was thinking of when he planned this. Dean remembered they were in the impala and Cas wasn’t in the mood for any of Dean’s old tapes. He teased that anything that came out after cassette tapes wasn’t real music. And only real music got to play in the impala.

Closing his eyes, Dean could picture the smug look Cas would be wearing right now. Tears started bubbling free from his eyelids. God he missed Cas with every ounce of his being.

A while later Dean got up and left his room, taking the tapes with him. He went for a long drive circling the neighboring towns while he worked through several of the tapes. If he relaxed enough, he could almost imagine Cas sitting in the front seat next to him, mumbling along to the lyrics of the songs he liked most.

Dean vowed that this time next year things would be different. He was owed a birthday wish and this was it: next year he’d be somewhere warm with his toes buried in the sand, and he’d have Sam, Eileen, Jack, and Cas with him.

[cadence-talle]

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.) 

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off 

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!) 

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting. 

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever. 

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter! 

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts! 

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé. 

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag! 

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.” 

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.” 

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.” 

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.” 

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.” 

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.” 

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts. 

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.” 

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter. 

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her. 

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving. 

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans. 

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.” 

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t-” 

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise. 

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses. 

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!” 

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her. 

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?” 

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter. 

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble. 

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?” 

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont. 

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory. 

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it. 

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund. 

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.” 

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie. 

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more. 

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.” 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois. 

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel. 

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

me

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are 

I know you only do that to annoy me.

me

<3

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy 

Have you tried talking to people?

me

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize. 

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster. 

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side. 

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.” 

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”  

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.” 

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother? 

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.” 

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.” 

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves. 

“You’re even prettier in person.” 

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up. 

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.” 

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks. 

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.” 

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.” 

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.” 

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.” 

Fitz nods. “Neat.” 

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug. 

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze. 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker. 

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?” 

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too. 

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances. 

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs. 

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.” 

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.” 

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.” 

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans. 

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes. 

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up. 

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND. 

“Cookies,” he announces. 

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place. 

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti. 

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile. 

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.) 

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up. 

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.” 

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red. 

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?” 

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number. 

415-623-7868 

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.) 

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good. 

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet. 

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up. 

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.” 

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven. 

What on earth was that. 

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?” 

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?” 

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.” 

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.” 

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile. 

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep. 

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp. 

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.” 

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs. 

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak. 

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods. 

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers. 

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air. 

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is. 

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod. 

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.” 

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back. 

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus. 

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for. 

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel 

Chicago, Illinois. 

Dex can’t sleep. 

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something. 

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty. 

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them. 

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it. 

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.” 

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you. 

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter. 

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head. 

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time. 

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering. 

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.” 

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs. 

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.” 

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.” 

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.” 

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins. 

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing. 

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it. 

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again. 

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room. 

What the fuck was that. 

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.” 

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex. 

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that. 

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him. 

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off. 

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it. 

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve. 

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder. 

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is. 

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win. 

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. 

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug. 

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment. 

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.” 

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss. 

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods. 

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back. 

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.” 

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother. 

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her. 

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household 

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape. 

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing. 

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it. 

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing. 

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.” 

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.” 

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests. 

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.” 

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-” 

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days. 

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.” 

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans. 

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously. 

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.” 

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him. 

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.” 

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look. 

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.” 

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.” 

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?” 

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch. 

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him. 

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing. 

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?” 

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.” 

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm. 

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?” 

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man. 

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.” 

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony. 

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what. 

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say. 

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge. 

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness. 

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes. 

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten! 

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment. 

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little. 

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin. 

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet. 

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City. 

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky. 

[haikyuu-sickfics]

Ooo yes well if you are taking request could you please write a fic with Suga and Iwaizumi? a sickfic if you’d like or a injury fic

Alcohol+Vomit warning! Koushi groaned as bright light flooded his vision.  The all too familiar pressure of a hangover pressed against his forehead and abdomen.  Dizziness swam dully throughout him as he struggled to remember last nights events.  A party.  Sawamura.  Hajime.  Alcohol.

Shit.

"You're finally awake," a distant voice commented.

Koushi sat up quickly, the quick movement inviting ruthless nausea to attack for the briefest of moments.  He forced his palm against his forehead, closing his eyes and swallowing a couple times to setting his stomach.  It was only once he reopened his eyes that he realized he was in an unknown place.

Panic surged through him, his eyes quickly scanning the room for any hints of what happened last night, Hajime stood in the doorway fully clothed- a good sign.  The room had no clothes strewn about the floor- another good sign.  Koushi was wearing unfamiliar, poorly fitting clothes- a bad sign.

"Whoa there, don't get up so fast.  Here, I brought water and a tylenol, figured you'd need it," Hajime offered, quickly making his way to Koushi with the water extended in one hand.

With wide, clueless eyes, Koushi took a couple tentative sip before tossing two tylenols into his mouth and washing them with a gulp.  He shuddered as he felt the cool water mix with the burning contents of his stomach.

"So," he started, voice groggy, "what happened last night?"

"Well... there was a party on campus, you were outside, I went outside to call someone and I saw you and talked to you."

Koushi knew this wasn't the whole story, far from it.  Hajime wasn't the type of person to randomly strike up conversation.  Something happened.  Koushi thought hard, setting his water on the nightstand so he could rub the weariness from his eyes.

They were crusty.  The specific type of crusty that one may only achieve after a long night of crying.  So Koushi cried last night. Why?  And that still didn't answer his change of clothes.

"So then I just got in your car?"

"Well, no," Hajime squirmed, obviously he could remember it and obviously if Koushi could then he would be halfway out the door by now.

"So tell me!" Koushi whined, eyebrows furrowing in pleading.

"Let's wait until you eat some, I'll make some toast for you.  Meet me in the kitchen in a couple minutes, it's just down the hall- can't miss it."

Koushi pouted as Hajime left him in the room.  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying so very hard to grasp onto the loose thread of memory from the previous night.  That course of action proving fruitless, he searched for his phone.

It was hidden next to him in the covers, it's batter nearly dead.  Koushi frowned at this before opening his messages.

Oh no.

He could remember now.

The picture someone sent him of Sawamura and some random boy dancing closely.  Too closely for just friends to dance.  Above that conversation was Sawamura frantically trying to explain himself to a pissed off, drunk Koushi.

"Ohh, fuck!" He cursed loudly, bits and pieces of his conversation with Hajime coming to him.

He said too much, way too much.  The alcohol and calming presence of Hajime led him to display all of his deepest thoughts in neon lights.  From the distrust he had been feeling to how neglected Sawamura had been feeling and all the way to the feelings Koushi had for Hajime.

"Fucking shit!" He cursed again.

He confessed last night.

Sharp pain burst from his arm where he was pinching it, hoping to anything and everything out there that this was a dream.

It wasn't.

Koushi thought about possible escape plans.  First- the window.  That was a dead end.  It was locked, only to be open by some complex series of actions which Koushi did not know.  Even if he did know how to open the damned thing, it was far too high off the ground- and even if it wasn't- Koushi wouldn't get far without his shoes.

So he was stuck with leaving the normal way.  Out the front door after having breafast.

Sighing heavily, he pulled himself up onto shaky legs.  Nausea swirled dangerously for a moment before dying down and allowing him to move on.

Taking deep breaths to prepare himself physically and mentally, Koushi followed the smell of toast into the kitchen.  The scent was suffocating, forcing its way down Koushi's nostrils and settling like a boulder in his midsection.

"I put some butter on yours," Hajime nodded to a single piece of toast on a paper plate next to the sink.

Koushi grimaced, trying his best to give a meaningful thanks.

The plate was warmer than the toast, who's butter had melted fully.

Not wanting to appear rude, Koushi took a bite.

His stomach revolted immediately.

"Bathroom," Koushi stated, voice muffled by his hand.

"Shit, uh, down the hall to the right."

Koushi nodded, quickly making his way down the hall with his eyes glued to the floor.

The door was open, allowing him to spot the much needed room easily.  Collapsing to the floor infront of the toilet, Koushi clenched his jaw in an attempt to spare the last of his dignity.  Best case-scenario, the nausea spell was just that- a spell- and would fade without trouble.  Worst case-scenario, well that's exactly what was happening.  Bile splashed agaisnt the back of his upper throat, forcing his mouth open to fall into the toilet with a splash.

Koushi groaned.  This was the absolute worst way to spend a saturday morning.

"Still got some in you?  I can't belive you have anything left in your body after last night."

The new clothes made sense now as Koushi remembered how sick he got last night.  

~

"You knooooow~ you have strong, STRONG muss less!!" Koushi slurred, squeezing Hajimes Biceps.

Hajime scooched away, taking away Koushi's support and causing him to fall into the railing.  The cool metal dug into his gut, pushing on the angry stew of alcohol.  Before he knew what was going on, a loud gag forced it's way out.  Strain tugged on his forehead and pulled on ever muscle from his stomach to his tongue.  The gag ended, leaving him breathless.

"What was that!  That was crazy!"  Koushi turned towards Hajime who was backing up cautiously.

"You should take a seat," Hajime advised, uncomfortable with the close vicinity of him and Koushi's mouth.

"I don't need a seat! My ass is so fat -hic-  that whenever I walk it's like I'm sitting on a cLOOUD!"

Koushi coughed, gagging again, bending forward with the force of the retch. Hajime jumped back and behind Koushi.  One more heave resulted in something productive.  Alcohol singed it's way up Koushi's throat before landing on the floor with a splat.

"Holy shit!" Koushi straightened his back, "I was -hic- NOT expecting that, were you?"

Hajime remained silent.

"Do you have a ride home, or someone I can call?"

Koushi smiled remorsefully, "my only ride is getting dicked right now."

"Oh," Hajime paused.  He really wanted to go home, but there was no way he could leave Koushi alone at this point, "I could drive you to my place."

"Ohhhh!  Are you hitting on me!?" Koushi crooned, leaning into Hajime.

Hajime couldn't help the heat that rushed to his cheek, instead deciding to hide it by taking Koushi's hand and dragging him to the front of the house where his car was parked.

"Oouuu!  Aren't you supposed to wait until the second -hic- date for this!"

Hajime opened the passenger seat, ushering Koushi in and clicking the belt over him.  He pointed out the plastic bags which were stuffed in pockets of the door- he was friends with heavy partier, this wasn't his first rodeo- before seating himself behind the wheel.

"Ready?"

Koushi hiccuped in response, already fumbling for a bag.

~

That's the best way to confess to someone.  Drunk off your ass before throwing up all over the place.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Koushi groaned at the memory, wiping his palm down his face, "But what happened to my clothes?"

"You got really sick on the walk between the car and the front door," Hajime grimaced at the ugly memory.

"So you remember everything?"

"Yup."

"I was drunk, you know."

"Mhm."

"I didn't mean it-"

"Yes you do."

"Okay but-"

"I like you too."

"What?"

"I have blankets on the couch and blinds over the windows, I know the perfect hangover movie.  Come on out when you're ready."

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 87

Emma

Slow dancing and kissing in the middle of the floor had been as perfect of goodbye as a goodbye could be. Sebastian had updated his playlists. There was nothing sexual. Every song was I love you, I've been waiting for you, I'm happy you're mine. Intense love songs. I felt every one. I stayed in the moment, focusing on how good this felt. We held each other, swaying to the music and alternating between my head laying on his shoulder, gazing in the other's eyes, or kissing. We were in our own little bubble. There was nothing but how his body felt against mine, how he smelled, and the look of his face. All I felt was encapsulated in a swirl of feelings. Love, joy, and a touch of sadness hiding on the edge.

The bubble burst with the knock on the door. Time to go. there was no chance of getting through this without tears. Strong emotions always bring tears. I don't fight them. Letting them out feels better. I don't think emotions are anything to be ashamed of or hide. They're also not something to manipulate others with.

At the car, we were both crying. Not holding onto each other sobbing, just tears.

Saying goodbye was hard. His "I love you. I'll miss you. I'll talk to you Later. Send nudes." broke the sadness enough to get the car door closed. I watched him slide away. I wiped away a few more tears before talking myself down. Six weeks was a long fucking time, but it wasn't forever. It would probably feel like it, however.

My solution was to avail myself of the Air France business class lounge. Two shots of tequila and I switched to wine. It went better with the cheese. I was going to have to hit the gym hard when I got home. And eat better. Not today though I was sad and there was free cheese.

As usual, I was asleep before we reached cruising altitude. I woke up with about five hours to go. Fingers crossed that helped with the jet lag. I put on my favorites playlist and read until we landed.

Emma ~ I’ve landed Sebastian ~ Yay! Emma ~ Go back to sleep. Sebastian ~ XOXO

I knew he had an early call time tomorrow. It was only five pm here in New York. Closer to seven by the time I got back to Sebastian's place. I made it long enough to throw a load of laundry into the washer and the cheese into the fridge before crawling into bed. I took over his side of the bed, sniffing the pillows to find the one that smelled most like him. I curled around it and was out.

Five am was the latest my body was going to let me sleep. That was eleven am in France. So too early for New York and kinda late for France. I grabbed my phone to take a sleepy selfie but was distracted by my text notification. Sebastian had sent me a picture of him reclining on a couch, not in our rooms, with Guiletta asleep on his chest.

Sebastian ~ Found someone new to sleep on my chest.

I continued with my original plan to take an up-close picture of my eyes peeking out over the top of his pillow. My hair was a mess, my eyes look half-asleep, and there was a faint pillow crease on my temple. Perfect.

Emma ~ I miss you too

The sun was up with a bright blue sky. Since it was Saturday the traffic at this time of day would be much less. I had a clean pair of shorts, but not a shirt. No problem. My boyfriend had t-shirts. A little big, but perfectly functional. Runners, earphones, keys and I was out the door for an early morning run.

The city was beautiful. sunlight crept around corners and over the tops of shorter buildings. I ran south past the 9-11 memorial to Battery Park. I'd always been fascinated by the metal world with tears and chunks missing. The first time I'd seen I'd said out loud, "It looks like the world blew up." I guess I wasn't far off. The sculpture had been in the World Trade Center Plaza and been damaged by falling debris. I was only eight and all I remember was my parents being glued to CNN for hours. It would be years later, when I called the city home, before I really understood. As much as a non-native New Yorker could.

The worst thing about running this early was all the stores were closed. The best thing about running this early was all the stores were closed. I admit my shopping had been out of hand. In my defense, it had been a very long time since I'd had someone to dress up for. Don't take that wrong. Beacon dates with a man or friends was an opportunity to dress up. Coming into New York to be with Angie and Eli was a good opportunity. Both opportunities I used well. Still, having a man appreciate what you wear and how you look in it is another level. I know what I look good in. I'm not changing my choices for Sebastian, or any man, but I will take his preferences into account. Shopping right now would be a bad idea. I’m sure I'm packing around a few extra pounds of cheese, bread, and wine. I'm hoping all the walking mitigated some of the damage.

On my way back, a couple of blocks from Sebastian's the city was waking up. More people and sounds. I realized tonight would be the first time I'd been alone in the city in about five years. I made plans to sit in the dark and just listen. I picked up a bagel and a smoothie that I was told would rejuvenate me. I wonder if the barista could tell? I broke into Sebastian's stash of nut butter. Half a bagel with cashew butter the other with almond. Cashew was better.

Being alone in his space is weird. None of my stuff is here. It's like a hotel, but not. I got a little nosey after I'd showered and dressed. Not in a going through his drawers and medicine cabinet nosey. Looking at his DVD and CD collection. Running my fingers down the spines of his books, pulling out ones that caught my interest to thumb through. I made a stack of things I wanted to read. I did go through his kitchen pretty thoroughly. It looks like a single man who travels and eats out a lot lives here. He doesn't have flour. How does one not have flour? He does have quite a condiment collection. I threw out expired things and made a list to replace them. That led me on a short journey to see if there was anything else he was almost out of and added things to the list.

Time to call the best friends. Angie picked up on the third ring, her voice excited to hear from me, "You're home!"

"I’m at Sebastian's. I meet with my advisor Monday."

"I want to see all the pictures and hear all the stories. We're going out tonight. Some friends are playing. You're welcome."

"Can I let you know later? I don't know what the time change is going to do."

"Absolutely. So.... " the paused after dragging out the word, "are you missing him? How was goodbye?"

"Goodbye took forever. Neither of us wanted to let go. At least half a dozen last kisses. Sucked. I miss him, but I'm okay. I'll be fine when I get home and am doing stuff. I've cleaned expired shit out of his kitchen and made a grocery list."

"That's cute. Hope he thinks so."

I hadn't thought about his opinion one way or another. I was just getting rid of shit before it stank up the place. "He won't care."

We talked for a while, deciding we'd do brunch tomorrow.

I was bored. I didn't lack for things to do, but I didn't have a routine here. Especially not without him. It didn't feel like home without him. Once I'd figured that out I was good and went about making myself at home.

I'd changed Sebastian's ringtone from "Dancing Queen" to my favorite part in "Every Time I’m With You." It was near the end after a heavy drumbeat "cause every time I'm with you I feel wanted. We could make believers if we dare. We're just two believers if we dare." It was incredible the first time we'd danced to it and it was incredible now. I heard it about six, midnight in France.

I'd barely registered his face before I heard his voice, "If I put that picture on my laptop and my laptop in the bed, I can pretend it's you."

I felt warm all over and smiled, "Yes, you can. Tell me about the first day of shooting."

"It was good. Long, but good. I'm comfortable with Jess and I like her direction." He told me stories that made me proud and made me laugh. "I did well today. What have you been up to?"

I gave him a quick rundown on my day, leaving the bit about making myself at home until last.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't believe you restocked my kitchen. Thank you. Do whatever you want to feel at home."

"What if I reorganized your drawers because your way doesn't make sense?"

"Have at it. I'll just think I forget and think I did it."

"And your kitchen so it flows better."

He shook his head, "I don't know what that means. Knock yourself out."

I laughed, "I didn't do either."

I loved the lines that formed at the corners of his eyes when he genuinely smiled. Like now, "I don't care what you do. I just want you to feel at home.”

Now we were where I wanted to be, "Here's the thing... my favorite foods in your kitchen, finding where I'm most comfortable to work on my laptop, and figuring out where has the best view when I want to relax with a book are good, but it's not enough. Doing all that did help me figure what's missing."

"What's missing and where can we get it?"

"It's free and I already found it. You make where ever we are home. You're my home."

"I'm your home." He looked a little dazed.

"When you were in my place I felt at home. At your parents, I felt at home. Being at your place with you I was perfectly at home. Paris too. Now I’m back and I did things to feel at home. Took a while until I realized its missing something. You. When I'm with you, wherever we are, I’m home."

I could tell he was processing, by the way his tongue moved, "I like that."

He kept thinking, squinting his eyes a little, "I don't know if you're my home. Not sure where home is. Sometimes I don't feel at home in my own skin. I like that I’m your home." He cringed, "The next couple of weeks are going to suck for you."

I banred out a laugh, "No, once I knew what the issue was I adjusted. I'm good now."

"You don't miss me anymore?"

"Oh, I miss you a lot." Were transitioned into silly conversation.

"Ok, good."

I gasped, "You want me to suffer?"

"Terribly." His eyes were wide as he nodded his head. "So much so that when you see me again you throw yourself into my arms and hold on so tight I can't breathe."

"Therefore making you suffer."

"Yes, please."

I did end up going out with Angie and Eli. Thankfully it was a jeans sort of bar. My hope was if I stayed moving I'd fall over, get a good night's sleep, and get back on New York time. It was a good fun night.

Sunday I took a run before getting ready for Angie to come over. I'd bribed her with her favorite home-cooked meal. I had her take pictures of me in various outfits around his apartment. At one point Angie rolled her eyes, "I can not believe I'm taking pictures of you rolling around in his bed."

"Six weeks, Angie. I suck at selfies. I need a stockpile to pull from."

"What you need is a class in basic photo editing on an iPhone."

"I know."

We went back to her place, stopping for supplies on the way. A few hours later we were feasting on cilantro lime salmon,  a creamy garlic parmesan orzo, and a greek salad. I've taught Angie to cook this several times, but she tells me it's never quite right. I think she skimps on the butter and that's a big no. And a healthy splash of the Sauvignon blanc lifts the whole thing a little.

Sebastian and I exchanged texts over the course of the day. A comment or question with stretches of time between answers. Mostly from him. I got excited when an unexpected text came through. His response to my dinner picture was a request for the same meal. Maybe with his parents.

Monday was a busier day. I had to dress like a doctoral student, pack my bags, clean up after myself, and plant surprises like the notes I keep finding in my condo. Mine are more fun. The green g- string from concert night is mixed in with his boxers. A couple of dresses parked next to something they matched well. A peach tank top mixed in with his workout gear. I had Angie take a picture in each room. Printed and framed them. My favorite is me sitting on the toilet. It has a lovely frame and is now on the wall across from the throne. I wanted everything ready for me to leave for home straight from my advisory meeting

My advisory meeting lasted a little over three hours. Three good hours. Dr. Kershaw had been appointed my advisor. I'd taken a class with her while working on my Master's and my second winter in Beacon, but at the time I'd been excited to work with students and studying digital classroom technology was something I wasn't wanting to explore. I wanted to be hands-on molding little minds and still wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I'd enjoyed working on our team's website. Google Classroom was functional but limited by design. Three hours later I had it narrowed down.

Sebastian had texted me good luck this morning with a picture of his face, eyes closed and lips puckered. I'd sent back a picture of my legs, crossed at the ankles with my skirt draped to the side, while sitting in his favorite chair. I was more than halfway home when his ringtone came through my vehicle's speaker. I hit the button, "Hey, baby."

I could hear his smile in his voice, "Sounds like your lunch went well."

"It did!" I was still excited from lunch and the phone call with Angie after. "I like my advisor. There's only ten of us in the program with the plan to add ten more each fall."

"Wow!" He interjected. "So being accepted is even more impressive."

"Yeah." I was proud of myself. "Small and first-year makes everything very personalized. All of the potential classes overlap with other programs. Cognitive theory from Psych, advanced reading from Education, some Education Law and leadership, computer tech, and even game design. We spent a lot of time talking about what I’m passionate about. In the and I’m thinking I want to focus on reading intervention and programming for K-3."

"Which is what you're passionate about."

I laughed, "and you."

"And me. Did you just talk about direction or is there a plan? What coursework did they accept."

"The fifteen hours I've taken will apply. We designed a basic timeline. I've taken six hours the last two years. I'm confident I can handle that with work and having a life. If I want to take more I can. I don't want to take classes in the summer. Those are usually compressed and pretty intense, plus I'm not in a hurry. Somewhere in the middle, I write a thesis, which looks at a problem or a hole in what already exists. That will feed into my dissertation. I can either do research and design an experiment like comparing existing programs or create my own product."

"Any idea which way you want to go?"

"None at all. I figure the thesis will help figure that out."

"And when do I have to start calling you Doctor?" The seductive tone in his voice told me "have to" wasn't going to be a hardship.

"Three to four years. No summers and using the last semester for my dissertation is four. If I add a class in a couple of semesters or summer and do my dissertation concurrently then three. I have to be done in ten. I'm thinking I’ll figure out what I want to do the first two then design and implement the last two. A lot will depend on how long that takes." He couldn't see me, but I was waving a hand in the air. "It will work itself out."

"I love you."

"I love you. Enough me, tell me about your day."

We talked the rest of the way home where we had some fun.

I called Seattle and went through it all again with Ed. He was as excited and proud of me as was Seb. I found it a little sadly ironic that my lover was in a time zone six hours ahead, my family was three hours behind, and the ones in the same time zone weren't going to know for a few days. I didn't trust them to not take away from my accomplishment, neither did Ed, which meant they'd have to wait. Hell, they barely knew I'd been in France. They'd get to know once I was finished celebrating with people who would just be happy for me. That pushed a Georgia phone call off to the weekend after the volleyball tournament. Maybe after practice tomorrow if I could get my school lunch bunch to come for drinks, I’d even buy. I had no problem funding my own celebration. I just wanted my friends there. Angie and Eli were coming for the weekend. Maybe I'd call while they were here. Eli could make angry faces while Angie tried to scold him. Then either way it went we could drink our way through. That was a good plan. I texted all involved and they agreed.

I ran back out to the grocery for fresh berries, yogurt, and wine to go with my cheese. I bought other good for detox items and healthy foods. A stopped by a smoothie shop for a raspberry white chocolate protein drink. It was amazing how quickly I slid into my summer schedule. Run to the gym to work out. Run home. Have breakfast and practice guitar. Do whatever until it was warm enough to go lay by the pool and read or float. Have dinner, meet up with friends, volleyball practice, or lay on the couch with Netflix

Sebastian and I would text sporadically throughout the day. About nine my time, so three am for him, I'd send him a picture. One Angie took or something I'd taken during the day. He always woke up to see me. Some days that was more arousing than others. We talked almost every day. Maybe five minutes or an hour. Night shoots were the worst. He was working while I was awake and I was asleep during his time off.

The weekend Angie and Eli came down was fun. Friday night we stayed in watching movies and drinking. Saturday's tournament was going well until storms came through. The radar said there were hours of rain left, so they canceled. Since all our plans had been canceled we decided on a bar crawl. Which meant Sunday was spent recovering. We went to brunch at the riverside restaurant where Sebastian and I had our first date. On the drive back I made plans for calling Georgia. Angie and Eli were my get away plan. We went out on the back patio. I set up my iPad where they would only see me, but I could see my support system.

Dad picked up almost immediately, “Hey, Emma. You’re home. Amy told us you were in France.”

“Sebastian had an event so we made it a short vacation.”

“Sounds fun.” My mom had entered the frame. “I bet you appreciated things you overlooked before.”

I laughed, “I did. All those things I saw pictures of later and wished I’d paid more attention to. We had a good time.”

“That’s great.”

Time to dive in. “I wanted to tell you some good news.”

Amy jumped into frame and interrupted, “Can I hear too?”

I ignored the question and just went on, “I was accepted into a new Doctoral program at NYU. It’s education and digital media. It’s new so we’re building my program as we go.”

“That’s great news, Emma.” Dad looked excited, “Dissertation and everything?”

“Yes, it can be research or designing a project. I’ve got about three years to get that figured out. They accepted the post-grad classes I’ve been taking.”

“Congratulations, sweetheart. We’re proud of you.” Mom’s smile was bright.

“My baby sister is going to be a Doctor. I need to figure out my future.”

I shook my head, “You’ll figure it out. What’s right for you and my beautiful niece. She’s a job and a half.”

“I am not enjoying this age.”

“That’s why I teach first grade and not kindergarten or preschool.”

We talked a bit more about school, what was going on there, and how things were with Amy and Max. Mom asked about Sebastian, where he was, and if things were good between us. Instead of shutting her down, like I had in the car, I talked about him.

Not a minute after we hung up Amy texted, “How’s Sebastian feel about calling you Dr? *wink*wink*”

I sent back, “Exactly, like that.”

I closed my tablet and looked at my friends. I was not comfortable. Sure, the conversation had gone fine, but it didn’t feel fine. “That went better than expected.”

“This time.” Eli grimaced, “Sorry.”

“That’s what makes this so hard. This looks normal, but it’s not. If it was, I wouldn’t have this not in the bit of my stomach and want friends here when I talk to them. That’s not normal.”

Angie came over to kneel beside me, bringing me into a hug, “No, it’s not. You don’t need us when you call Seattle.”

Eli joined us, “I don’t think they know what they’re doing, but it doesn’t change it, Emma.”

I laughed, “I know.” I kissed his cheek. Dealing with my parents was worse for him than it was for me. I hated seeing people I love hurt too. I wasn’t hurt though. It was a weird numb.

“You ok, Em?”

I met Angie’s eyes, “I am. Just weird. The happier I am, the more good things going on, the more distant I feel. The better I’m doing, the less supportive they are.”

“Yep!” Eli didn’t hesitate to agree. “And that’s not alright.”

I mussed his hair, “No, it’s not.”

The next week was more of the same. I registered for my fall classes and my books were delivered by Wednesday. I started reading. Yes, I'm that student. I liked to get a head start. I'd never taken classes in the fall. The first month of teaching was exhausting. It took time and energy to get first graders ready to learn. I wasn't sure how that would work with starting my classes. Getting ahead on reading seemed the safest approach.

Thursday afternoon Sebastian called. Drunk. I guess wrapping in Paris was worthy of a party. The rest of cast and crew were packing up and heading to Rome. Sebastian was flying halfway around the world to San Diego's Comic-Con. He'd spend thirty-two hours of his four day weekend in a plane, which meant he was drunk and a little grumpy. By the time I was done with him he was still drunk, but no longer grumpy. He was naked, smiling, and satisfied. Well, as satisfied as he could be over the phone. Even drunk he was insistent that he not see me masturbating for the first time on video. We should have taken care of this.

I set an alarm for the middle of the night to make sure he was awake and would make his plane. It was worth it to lay in bed together.

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (2)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (in case u wanna come say hello on main but no pressure)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death, some mentions of sexual situations but nothing explicit, spoilers for season 2 (should probably have tagged ch1 for this too oops)

words: 6607, no regrets

summary: it’s not a date if it’s for work

Author’s note: There is so much research that went into this I would just like to say thank you internet for letting me look up stuff from the comfort of my own home at unholy hours even though I did get very distracted while looking up late 80s wedding dress fashion. Also bless the s2 dvd extra which was a director’s commentary on s2 ep10 and very informative.

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83 

(message me if you want to be added to the list. or just message me in general)

and also I urge you to look at the beautiful moodboard that @huliabitch made for me! I love it so much!

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

"All the best from Mr DEA." Diana said as she threw herself down in the seat across from her best friend. Gabriela looked effortlessly glamourous as usual, even though she was just in a blouse and jeans. She just had that air about her, like one of the vintage movie stars, something Diana had never quite been able to match. She was well aware she was downright frumpy in comparison, not one to catch eyes just by walking past. For the most part, that suited her. Gabi tried to seem nonchalant about the greeting.

"Oh?" She sipped gingerly from her drink and put her menu away. "You finally met, then? He's back?"

Diana nodded and stowed away her purse and cardigan. "Yeah, this afternoon and yesterday, in the morning. He seems... nice enough? I don't know. Not a talker, is he? He seems a bit on edge, to be honest. Though I suppose that's to be expected." But despite everything, he still has kindness in his eyes.

Gabi just grinned at her for a long moment, waiting to pounce.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a grump. ...Handsome though, no?"

Diana sighed, swatting at the other woman with her own menu. "Did it ever occur to you that the newly divorced woman might have had her fill of men for the time being?"

"It has occcurred to me that five years of unchanging, uninspired missionary for half an hour exactly, twice a week, with that wet blanket you married might have left you with the need to really be filled by a man for once."

"Gabriela!" she gasped, choking on thin air and mortification, even though their conversations would often get way more explicit than this. Just never with her being the subject. Gabriela just smiles like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, hailing a waiter to give him their order.

"Speaking of newly divorced: has the dipshit finally signed the papers then?" Diana groaned, throwing her glasses down onto the table to massage her temples.

"No, he's dragging his feet. Which is ridiculous, it's not like I want anything from him. It's not like we're fighting tooth and nail over every other thing, like that American movie, the one we watched on your mom's old VHS player, you know? With Meryl Streep? In any case, now he decides to fight? If you can call that fighting."

"Kramer vs Kramer." Gabi remarked sagely. "Yeah... At least you don't have children together. That could really have gone ugly. I still don't know what you ever saw in that man."

"Oh shut it. I used to be fond of Juan Mateo; I don't know when that changed." Diana huffed, quickly snatching up her glasses when the waiter sailed over with their drinks and appetizer.

"Well that's the problem, you never loved him! And your parents set too good an example; what could ever live up to that?" She took a generous drag from her drink, then dug into the food with hungry abandon. "At least you're finally rid of his snoring. And his mother."

"God, she really hated me. Couldn't bear it that her precious boy brought some lowly scum from the comunas into her pristine middle class home. Marrying me might have just been the only demonstration of free will that man has ever managed." Diana allowed herself to seethe a bit at the memory, taking it out on her food as she stabbed at it roughly. "And I will definitely not miss the snoring."

"Mr DEA barely snores." Gabriela remarked lightly. "Just ...very softly. It's quite cute."

"Since when do you let clients stay to actually sleep?" Diana inquired around a mouthful, brows scrunched. Gabriela hummed thoughtfully, swiping some sauce off her plate with a piece of bread.

"Ah, but he was so tired, poor thing. It wouldn't have been safe to send him back out, he would have crashed his car and died in a ditch somewhere, which would have been a real shame. I just let him nap for an hour or so that one time. Besides, I wasn't in any state to do much myself after he blew my back out." She had a way of being so nonchalant about these things that Diana supposed came from a sort of professional equanimity. Diana possessed no such poise and gawked openly, the wheels turning in her head as she recalled previous conversations and connected dots.

"Oh." She breathed as realization hit. "Oh! No! That was him? You're kidding me. How am supposed to look him in the eye now?" Gabi was already cackling, barely able to hold her laughter as Diana sputtered, recalling the very detailed recounting she'd received after the night in question. "You said you felt that for days after!"

"I did, but it was worth it." Gabi was now subtly holding her sides, having pushed her empty plate away to be collected. "You see, you're my dearest and oldest friend and I only want the best for you."

"I'm sure Mr DEA would be delighted to know of your crude attempts to pimp him out." Diana snarked, pushing her own plate to the side just in time to be whisked away by the waiter. "You're incorrigible. This is serious. Besides, I think he really liked you, actually."

"He liked the illusion of intimacy, like most of my clients. Lonely but with committment issues to the moon and back. It's not like I'm telling you to marry him. I'm just trying to get you properly laid for once." Gabriela scoffed. She could be so detached sometimes. In fact, one could call it downright cynical. But Diana had known her since they were both in pigtails and could detect the care behind even the most jaded words.

"Oh whatever. I request a change of topic. How's your book coming along? Any progress on that chapter that's been giving you so much trouble?" Diana asked sweetly, making the other woman glare at her over the plates with their main courses as they were being set down. Because yes, Gabriela does indeed write more than letters, and she's good, too. Also, two can play this game of being just slightly mean.

--- --- ---

Javier hated team meetings. And now that he was the boss here he couldn't even get out of them. Worse, he had to lead them. He looked over the assembled agents, glad that he had most of their names down by now. Gladder still that this was a DEA-only event and he wouldn't have to deal with any of Stechner's CIA asswads for now.

"Duffy, where are we on the shipments?" He turned to the other man expectantly. Duffy was one of the few agents here that weren't younger than him; he actually had some experience under his belt, unlike all these fucking greenhorns the higher-ups had sent him. He forced himself to pay attention to Agent Duffy's answer, making notes of important dates as he listened. Operation Cornerstone had, at this point, not yet come to full fruition, but if they continued to put in their due dilligence it was almost certain to turn up something useful. When they'd gone through all the points on his agenda, and after clearing up a few uncertainties, he dismissed the roomful of agents.

"Duffy, got another moment?" Javier stopped the other agent as he turned to leave the conference room.

"Sir?" Duffy sat back down and pulled his writing pad back out.

"Have you come up with any ideas for my informant in Calí?" Javier had mentioned this before, seeing as Duffy was one of the agents permanently stationed at the Calí field office. Now that Escobar was gone it would look suspicious if the head of the DEA in the country trekked up to Medellín every other week, and they needed a better way for Miss Rivas to hand over her collected intel. Duffy cleared his throat and caught the eye of one of his colleagues and waved him over.

"Lopez here has had a few ideas, sir. Tony, tell the boss your ideas for drop-offs."

The other agent was younger, handsome in that pretty way that made girls sigh dreamily, going by his own, admittedly remote, memory of high school and college. Lopez hadn't said much during the meeting, but had that eager glint in his eyes that said he wanted to prove himself. Javier had had that same look when he first came down here; it hadn't survived the first year.

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, so I was thinking the public library might be worth a shot." Agent Lopez pulled a notepad from his own case, squinting down at the scrawled chickenscratch. Javier nodded along, encouraging more than praise. He'd have to run these ideas by Miss Rivas anyway, and if she had concerns they were back at square one. But that was a river he intended to cross when the time came and not a second earlier.

--- --- ---

The satphone was also a good instinct because after their preliminary meetings in April, it gets irritatingly difficult to arrange another one for over a month.

"The what now?"

"The 4th International Poetry Festival. It's on from June 2nd to 8th." she explained patiently. "Orietta Lozano, Gloria Gervitz, Blanca Varela!"

"I assume those are poets."

"Obviously."

"You want me to go to a poetry festival with you?"

"No, I'm taking the week off and I'm going to the festival, and I am also free to meet you. I'm just suggesting that maybe your work hours don't all have to be spent in dreariness and drudgery." Something sizzled on the other end of the line where she was making herself dinner while talking to him, and it made Javier's stomach grumble. "A bit of culture is good for the soul, Agent Peña. You'll burn yourself out with how much you work. When was the last time you ever did anything for fun? Read a book? Hell, listened to music?"

Whenever you call me. She always had music on at home. It drifted through the receiver, a soothing background hum that was too soft to truly make out most times. Add to that the fact that he was still sitting in his office at almost half past seven in the evening, and he didn't have a proper counter-argument.

"Alright, fine. 2nd to 8th, I'll see what I can do."

--- --- ---

She was wearing another belted shirt dress, this one pale yellow and sleeveless, the full skirt reaching to just below the knees. It reminded Javier of the style his mother used to wear when he was little. Saturday, June 4th, had him meet up with Miss Rivas at the Teatro Metropolitano in central Medellín. Her dress contrasted against the blocky red building in a way that tugged familiar, but Javier was trying to train himself to not see blood in every instance of red.

"This is quite a way from Envigado." He announced his approach as soon as he was close enough to not have to shout. She jumped a bit, clearly startled, but her lips pulled into a polite smile when she recognized him.

"Agent Peña." She greeted. "No, cultural grandeur doesn't usually make it out to the comunas." She sat back down on the bench and pulled a flyer from her (rather big) purse, thumbing it pensively. Javier sat beside her, not quite at arms' length. Trying to appear wordlessly inviting, if only to mask how at a loss for words she made him feel. He seemed to be no longer used to normal, civil human interaction.

"Right, there is one reading here at the Metropol that starts in about half an hour that I think you might like. It has a few of the international poets; a few of them will be reading in English. Then there's another one later at the Teatro Carlos Vieco that I'm keen on. It's about half an hour on foot between locations, but there's the open air exhibits that only require a small detour." She pointed it all out on the program as she spoke, Javier silently nodding along in acknowledgement. "I've planned it so there's more than enough time for a lunch break. I hate having to rush through things that are meant to be enjoyed. I brought arepas, but there are usually enough street vendors out and about to get something else, if you prefer." She really did talk a lot. That was surprisingly fine by Javier, since it meant he didn't have to. "Though of course if you'd rather just get your intel and go I understand, but I must insist on at least this first reading, Agent Peña. But otherwise I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure you have other things to do."

His lips twitched involuntarily and he held his hand out for the program flyer, silently reading it over. None of the names rung any kind of bell. Not that he was much of a poetry aficionado. "Sounds good to me."

She blinked. "Which part?"

He handed her back the flyer, which she took automatically, still eyeing him with uncertainty.

"All of it." She blinked again, looking mildly shocked, the flyer still dangling uselessly from her fingers. "Miss Rivas, I came all the way here and you went through all this trouble planning. It would be a waste to part ways after so short a time."

Truth be told it sounded ...nice. The thought of spending a day just exploring, letting work be work for even just a day (or at least part of it). Despite being an only child, he'd never liked being on his own even when he was young, cherishing every day spent with school friends or any of his numerous cousins. And it wasn't like he'd had to do far less pleasant things for information.

Her expression morphed from uncertain gaping into a wide, pleased smile that he couldn't help but mirror. Maybe she was quite a nice lady after all.

---

"...I have to ask though: What's a ...smit- ...smee-dereen?"

"Smithereens." Javier corrected gently as they exited the venue after the reading. "It means... it's all the small pieces that are left over when something is destroyed. Like with a bomb."

"Hmm," she hummed, pensive as they strolled along with the leisurely flow of the crowd, "I'll have to think a bit more about this." She fished around in her purse, producing bottled water and offering him one. He took it gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. "How did you like it, Agent Peña? Already regretting agreeing to this?"

"No." Javier found himself replying perhaps a smidgeon too quickly. "No, it's very uh... enriching." And not what he'd expected at all. Though the festival was now in its fourth year running, he'd never had the chance or the wish, really, to attend it before. He'd barely taken note of its existence, too preoccupied with chasing down leads.

"Hm, you don't have to mollify me, Agent Peña. You'll still get your intel, don't worry." Her expression slipped, from an almost serene smile back into that underlying heaviness that he could identify only now that it had been lifted for a short while.

"Miss Rivas," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm just not that good with words. That's why I'm a government agent and not a poet."

That at least made her chuckle a bit. And it was true, too. He felt lighter, in a way, like his mind had been craving a break from the frustrating work of trying to find an in to take down the cartel. Even his shoulders felt less tense here. And it was a beautiful day, too. Warm but not too hot, sunny with a mild breeze. People were out and about around them, festival goers and other citizens alike, mingling freely with a carelessness that would have been unthinkable only a year prior.

"Juan Mateo never wanted to come with me to this." She gestured vaguely at the city and its people around them. "My husband. Ex-husband. Technically still husband because he won't sign the divorce papers." Her features turned tense as she explained, a slight frown appearing between her brows. "Not that it matters now, of course. But goodness, that man had no sense for these things. He thought top shelf coffee was the height of culture. He'd act like going out to a bar one evening every few weeks was a chore beyond compare. Such a martyr!" She huffed and Javier laughed softly, offering to take her bag for a while as she adjusted it on her shoulder for the third time now.

"No, that's alright. It's not heavy. This way." Her hand naturally slipped into the crook of his elbow to steer him down the side of the road and Javier faltered for a moment, cursing himself for wearing a short-sleeved shirt even though it was comfortably warm. He just didn't want to get separated in the bustle of activity, he reasoned. This was a perfectly tame and non-offensive gesture and it would be rude to flinch away, he reasoned. She initiated it, after all. No harm no foul. This was still a professional alliance.

"You think very loudly, Agent Peña." She remarked, lightly squeezing his elbow. "It better not be about work."

"Technically I am at work right now." He countered, covering her hand on his arm with his much larger one and giving it an awkward pat.

"Lucky you." She teased, lightly nudging his side with her elbow.

"Beats paperwork, that's for sure."

They ambled along, weaving through the crowds where they gathered in front of street performers and makeshift stages. Javier couldn't deny that it felt good to feel the sun on his skin, un-recycled air in his lungs; most of all being far away from Stechner and his legion of CIA goons was almost rejuvenating. They fell into a languid rhythm, walking leisurely and stopping every so often to linger a bit where music was being played or more poetry recited, in front of the stalls of local artisans or to look at the sculptures that had been put up as an open air exhibit throughout the city. Every so often, Miss Rivas would tell him some little anecdote, be it about any of the previous festivals or just the city itself. He barely felt the time pass.

By the time they'd made it across the river and to the park wherein the open-air theatre was situated, it was time for a late lunch and Javier felt his stomach start to protest, all that walking serving to work up an appetite.

"...and after school Gabi and I would trek across town to the library and hide by the shelves in the back, the ones with the old classics, and we'd read all the scandalous 19th-century novels about adulteresses and other fallen women. You know, Anna Karenina, Thérèse Raquin, Madame Bovary, Tess of the d'Urbervilles..." Miss Rivas set her bag down and produced a fairly big plastic container from within, setting it on the bench between them. "Perhaps not the most appropriate fare for a couple of fifteen-year-old girls, but it wasn't like we had a whole lot of supervision, you know? It definitely wasn't appropriate to read to a five-year-old, so I guess it's good that Maritza never really paid attention much- Stop my prattling any time, Agent Peña. I know I talk too much; Juan Mateo always used to say so."

Javier paused, an abundantly filled arepa inches from his mouth. "He what now?"

She flushed, looking down and picking at the wrapping paper she'd bundled the food up in. "It's fine, it's not a big deal, really."

"It's not fine." Javier insisted. Told her to shut up, told his own wife that she talked to much! What an ass. He started tearing into the arepa with a glower. They sat in silence for a while, chewing tensely in this little corner of the park at the foot of Cerro Nutibara, in a spot that was fairly hidden among the greenery while still affording a decent view of the city streets below. Javier didn't even know why it irked him so much. There were worse things out there than insensitive husbands. Ex-husbands at that. Still, he seethed quietly in his righteous wrath.

"Wanna see something funny?" She was already digging through her purse, so he didn't see much sense in replying. She pulled a photo from some deep compartment in her wallet, looking down at it thoughtfully for a moment before passing it to him. In his defence, Javier hadn't meant to laugh. It just came out, snorty and half-aborted.

"Hey, at least I managed to evade the poofy sleeves, okay? My mother was dead set on them. She wanted me to look like the English lady… uh, Princess Diana. I think she might have taken the name as a sign."

"That's a.. that's a lot of satin."  And tulle. Javier pressed out, still suppressing his laughter and barely succeeding. He could have pointed out that the mass of ruffles negated any absence of actual puff sleeves, but thought it better to refrain. And it wasn't like she hadn't looked beautiful as a bride, it was more that in that ruffled satin-and-tulle concoction she looked like an unwilling dress-up doll, despite the tasteful off-the-shoulder cut and flattering waistline. It was just... there were a lot of ruffles. There was a lot of dress, period. Paired with an expression that was better suited to a funeral, the effect was almost morbidly comedic.

"Wait till I show you the cake; we were basically identical." It was the dryness of her tone that set him off. There was no suppressing it now, Javier was bellowing, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It didn't help that the dress fashion hadn't really strayed very far from the 'bigger and more style' in the years since. All things considered, this was a comparatively simple gown, lacking the mass of sparkly appliqués and abundance of bows and flowers that had been popular in the latter years of the previous decade. It just wasn't a style that suited her personality in any way, at all. Her slender figure was absolutely drowned in the sheer volume of the skirt alone. Hell, it completely overshadowed the already forgettable man standing by her side in the photo. Though 'by her side' was a generous descriptor. There was definitely enough space for the Holy Spirit and then some between the couple.

"My mother spent ages on that damn dress. Her hands looked like pincushions by the time she was done; that's why she wore gloves to the wedding."

"She's a seamstress, right? Your mother?" She'd mentioned it in an offhand comment during one of their previous phone calls.

"She was." Diana confirmed, tucking the picture away again. "Didn't think you'd remember that."

"Of course. I listen to everything you tell me."

Diana chuckled, flushing lightly. "It's not even relevant to the case!"

"I listen to everything you tell me." Javier insisted and started gathering up wrapping paper and such to throw away. A quick look at his watch told him they'd have to get moving soon if they wanted to make it to the theatre on time to get decent seats.

"Right." Diana collected her things to stuff them back into her bag. "So it's a no for ruffles, but what would you have me wear, Agent Peña? What do you think suits me?"

Javier couldn't have told even the most skilled interrogation expert what exactly compelled him to answer, and so readily at that, why he had an opinion at the ready in the first place, or at least that's what he preferred to tell himself.

"I think... something soft and flowy, not a whole lot of embellishments, if any. Clear lines and a light fabric, something you can dance in and be comfortable. Definitely no more satin."

She laughed now, as well, eyes twinkling with what he thought was approval. "You are full of surprises. Should I ever get married again, I'll most certainly engage your services as designer, Agent Peña."

"I'll keep a spot open for you. First consultation is free."

---

How her hand can feel so natural there in the crook of his elbow after hardly a day, he cannot tell. All he knows is that by the time the reading at the open air theatre is done the sun has started to dip in the sky and if this was what his work was like more often he'd perhaps be happier in his workaholic ways. Though they haven't broached the topic of work in hours now, instead ambling half-aimlessly northward towards Conquistadores where he's parked his rental car at the hotel he's staying at. Because it is a long way to Envigado and he insisted on driving her home. Because even though now that Escobar is gone Medellín is much safer, but he's never been one to easily trust a good thing.

It's only when they've crossed the big main street Avenida 33 that Miss Rivas gets quieter. She's obviously  tired following their prolonged outing, but he instantly misses the pleasant hum of her voice, her clever little observations- At the same time, it's a comfortable silence, not one weighed down by expectation. She'd even let down her hair from where it had been up in a ponytail for most of the day, most likely to keep the thick curtain of it away from her neck in the heat and sun.

They're just crossing a smaller square, the edge of it lined with shops, the hole-in-the-wall kind mostly, when she suddenly pulls away with a soft instruction to wait there for just a moment, and he's left to look after her flapping skirt with what is probably not the most dignified expression. Defeated, he sat down on the broad edge of a flowerbed nearby and watched her cross to a food vendor, order, and fish around for her wallet to pay, before turning around again with a plastic cup in each hand. Fresas con crema, he can make out upon her approach, and one corner of his mouth ticks up involuntarily.

"Hungry again?" He teased when she got within earshot, handing him one cup and setting the other down beside him along with her purse.

"There's always space for this in my stomach." She retorted primly. "If you don't want any, all the better."

"Thank you for the generous offer, but no. Thanks for this." He makes a show of cupping the treat protectively, fully knowing he'll have to set it down to unwrap the plastic spoon that came with it. It makes her laugh nonetheless, which imbues him with a strange, fluttery sense of accomplishment.

She's still standing, head thrown back and grinning wide, when her gaze catches on something at the far end of the plaza, and her expression morphs from glee to astonishment to rage so quickly it gives Javier whiplash.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Ripping off her glasses and thrusting them into his hands, she began stalking off.

Two things are fortuitous: one, she had to pass Javier to get to whatever she saw and two, his reflexes are still sharp enough for him to jump up and into her path, even having managed to safely deposit the cup of strawberries and cream.

"Whoa, what the hell is it?"

"I- ...she-" Her voice is strained, her whole body taut like a livewire as she attempts to round him and resume her warpath. On instinct, Javier took a few steps backwards, keeping himself between her and her target. It's only his hands on her shoulders that stall her enough for him to be able to whip his head around and follow her eyeline. That side of the square is empty save for an older lady shuffling along, huffing and puffing and blissfully unaware of the wrathful freight train about to rush her. To say Javier was puzzled would be an understatement.

"What, her? The old woman?"

"That's Hermilda Escobar!" She's shaking so much he has trouble keeping a grip on her. "Look at her! The nerve of that woman to show her face here-" She winds out from under his hands, rounding him with a quick sidestep, and he can only match her speed because his legs are longer.

"Hey!" Javier whisper-shouts to be met with flashing eyes, then repeats it more softly. "Hey. What exactly are you planning to do here, huh?"

"I'm gonna give that self-righteous bitch a piece of my mind is what I'm gonna do!" She retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It's cowing, the single-minded purpose rolling off of her. She's strumming with it, her seething damn near tangible. In her rage, she is ruthless. Javier had no doubt, in that moment, that once let go she might well maul the woman with more than words.

It's instinctive, the way his arm wraps around her. Like the few times he's had to restrain Steve and yet not like that at all. For one Javier doesn't have to go for a near chokehold, though energy-wise her wrath is at least as fierce. So, he wraps one long arm around her waist, hauling her much slighter body against his with a half-turn, her forearms colliding sharply with his chest.

"Easy." He rumbles, his other arm coming up to fold across her shoulders. "Easy. Calm down. Calm down!"

Palms smack against his pectorals and it stings. "Hey!" He tightens his hold around her trembling body, her angry, anguished squirming. Softens his voice. "Hey. Calm down, okay? What're you gonna do, beat up that old woman in the street? Come on, breathe."

The sound that comes out of her is something very closely related to a snarl, and he feels the bite of her nails even through his shirt, but holds fast, continuing to ramble empty phrases with the intent to soothe, or at least distract.

"If you tell me to calm down one more time I will get violent." She promised, hands pushing into his chest in an effort to break his hold. The old woman has almost passed by completely by now, seeming blissfully unaware of the savaging she's escaping. Javier held fast, as tight as he dared, the hand still pinching the pair of glasses between two fingers awkwardly patting at her shoulder while he sways them both, rocking from foot to foot.

By the time Diana has calmed down enough that he feels comfortable loosening his hold, the old woman is long gone from view. He feels her slump in his grip, reflexively tightening his arms again to hold her up.

"Hey," he gentles, lightly nudging the side of her head and thinking, distantly, that all but burying his nose into her soft hair is far too intimate a position for any of this. "Hey, it's alright, I've got you, okay? I've got you."

They're still swaying on the spot, a gentle see-saw motion, and then he felt the hands that had been clenching and unclenching on his chest lose all tension and drop down to the side. She's still shaking, her whole ribcage jumping with the hiccup of suppressed sobs. Somehow, he maneuvers them both around and back the few steps from where their snack and her purse still wait beside the flowerbed.

"Why'd you hand me these, anyway?" It's but a cheap distraction tactic, Javier handed her the glasses back as soon as she sat nevertheless.

"I'm not blind without them." Diana responded tersely, snatching the glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her dress. When she doesn't deign to elaborate, he sighs and stretches from where he'd sat back on his haunches in front of her, resuming his earlier seat and finally unwrapping the spoon. It's a tense silence for a long moment, her aggravation like a pulse around them. Certainly it gives Javier a good bit to think on.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Don't condescend to me. You may have been closer to the action, but I've lived here all my life." She ripped open her own packet with a vengeance, digging the spoon into her own portion with such force that the sliced strawberries bleed into the white cream. Javier sighed. Took a moment to order his words before they leave his tongue.

"I just need to know if this," he gestured between her and the edge of the square, "is going to be something that has to be taken into account. I need to know that you're not just in this for revenge. I need to know where you're at mentally. I need to be sure, both for your own safety and the integrity of this operation, that you're not just going to snap one day and try to claw Miguel Rodríguez' eyes out, okay?"

She chews angrily a moment, eyes flashing at him before she stares straight ahead again. The wrath is still rolling off of her in waves, perhaps dipping a bit in its intensity, but far from dulling just yet.

"You want to know my motivations, is that it? Well, let me lay it out for you, Agent Peña: of my entire class, a third never even made it to graduation, for one reason or another. I spent my youth plotting routes around gunfights in the street, with just enough success to still be alive, somehow. My mother was caught in the crossfire of a raid and was afraid to leave the house for years afterwards. My father was on that Avianca flight. My baby cousin Maritza is dead and her baby will grow up without her mother. And throughout it all, I took the coward's way out, moved cities, for university, for work, for marriage, for myself even, and everywhere I went they were, too. The narcos have spun their spider's web across the whole damn country and beyond and sooner or later everyone gets stuck in it. I got stuck in it despite my best efforts, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having to flee and turning up in dead ends. Somehow I have landed in this unique position, and I refuse to join them. Is that enough motivation for you, Agent Peña?"

She held his gaze, a challenge in fire, and he wondered how much longer that adrenaline surge would sustain her before she crashed. Wordlessly, he nodded his affirmation.

It's more tense silence after that, thick like stew or the humidity out in the jungle. She doesn't reach for him again as they resume the walk up to his hotel, doesn't casually link their arms like before, choosing instead to fidget with the handles of her bag. He hates it, misses the lightness the day had before. These narcos, they really do poison even the most mundane of things with their long, bloodied shadows. When they get to the hotel's underground garage, she's gone even more quiet, almost deflated. There are no more words exchanged, save for the clipped directions to her aunt's house. At one point, Javier was almost certain she'd dozed off.

---

"Do you ever think you should have been there? When they finally got him?" He'd just parked the car opposite of the house. It's almost completely dark outside by now.

"...Yes." Of course he did. He'd wanted, even needed to. The temporary suspension had not been near as effective a punishment as denying him that. The fruits of his labor, of years spent chasing after shadows and getting himself mired deeper and deeper, until he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. He'd wanted it, sure, but perhaps he hadn't deserved it.

"Why did they send you home?" It's not that Javier is in a particularly obstinate mood, it's just that after the incident earlier, he's reluctant to bring up his own involvement with the cartels of Calí and Medellín, much less Los Pepes, so he gives a non-committal grunt in response. He should have known that wouldn't deter her. "When I first called, Agent Murphy said you had been recalled to the States. I only found out later that that was before they finally got Escobar. Why would a top agent on a case of this magnitude be pulled off and sent back before that?"

"You mean what did I do?" She nodded. There was no getting out of it now. He didn't want to lie to her either. Javier sighed, scratching his thumbnail across his brow. "You're going to look at me differently."

"Perhaps, yes." She took a deep breath, rummaging through her purse and producing a folded up paper. "These are the names of some American banks that I'm very certain help funnel and launder Calí's money. Sorry it's nothing more specific." She placed the paper in his hand, gently closing his fingers over it. "Whatever you tell me, we're in this together, right? We both want to bring them down. I trust you, alright?"

Javier gulped, his fingers tingling under her touch. He pockets the paper to buy time, if only to swallow through his suddenly-too-dry throat. And then he tells her. The dead ends and the crippling bureaucracy, Don Berna, the Castaño brothers and Judy Moncada and Pacho Herrera. His desperate grasping at straws to find a way, any way to throw a wrench in the escalating violence and catch Escobar, how that backfired so spectacurlarly. How he tried to get out, despite knowing that these people do not allow outs. How he'd been played by the fucking CIA because he'd been an idiot falsely believing that the two agencies were operating under even remotely the same objectives. How he'd gone down, almost taking his partner with him, definitely tanking his boss' career. He hasn't spoken to anybody about this in such depth, not even his father. By the end of it, he's exhausted.

"So you're the one Carlos Castaño wanted to feed to the crocodiles."

"What?" He'd expected judgement, even disgust. Certainly not this.

"I overheard Gilberto mentioning it on the phone. I think he must have just learned that you'd be the DEA's man in charge. 'Maybe I should have let you feed that damn DEA agent to the crocodiles after all, Carlos.'  The door wasn't all the way closed, that's how I heard it. I think that was the moment I realized I couldn't wind my way out of this. That either they were going down, or they were going to find out that I was already talking to Agent Murphy and have me... vanished."

"I won't let that happen." Javier promised instinctively, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Crocodiles though? Really?" Not how he thought he'd end, that was for certain.

"Yeah, they're very uh... charming, huh?"

Javier grimaced. "If I never see any of them again, it'll be too soon."

"Knock on wood." Diana replied and unbuckled herself, pushing open the door.

"I'll walk you. It's dark."

"It's only across the street." She protested, and was that the ghost of a smile on her lips? Javier's hands stilled on his own seatbelt.

"You sure?"

"If my aunt catches me coming home with a man I'll never hear the end of it." Diana slipped out of the car, then bent to grab her purse. "Good night, Agent Peña. Until next time."

"Good night, Miss Rivas."

He waited until she was inside, the door securely locked behind her, before starting the drive back.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3

-------------------------

Author’s note cont’d: if you wanna know what I had in mind, approximately, for the wedding gown see here

The International Poetry Festival of Medellín is a real thing, too. They have a youtube channel

[tchallasbabymama]

Bambi

Hey y’all, here’s Chapter 7 of Playlist.

Check out my masterlist HERE to catch up and read my other stories. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Word count: 6300

“Ashanti”

The name passed over the king’s lips as his fiancee watched him toss and turn in his sleep. Tamala didn’t know what to do. She was so angry she wanted to smother him with his stupid silk pillows, but didn’t want to risk the whole “charged with having committed a regicide” thing. She wanted to know who this Ashanti bitch was and why her man was dreaming about her with a smile on his face. She made a mental note to butter Shuri up and ask her tomorrow.

The king rolled over away from her and continued to dream about the elusive Ashanti while Tamala snuggled deeper into the covers as a tear came to her eye. She knew he didn’t feel as strongly for her as she did for him, but she hadn’t considered there could be another woman. Could she work in the palace? Is this Ashanti even Wakandan? He travelled so much, it was a possibility…

Tamala sighed and then closed her eyes, allowing sleep to take her, but her dreams were nowhere near as good as T’Challa’s. In his dream, he and Ashanti were making love on a white sand beach on a secluded island off the coast of Greece. Every kiss, every touch felt real. He could smell the sea salt and feel her warm skin against his. The taste of her pussy lingered on his lips as he buried himself inside her over and over and over again. Unfortunately, outside of his dreamland his body was responding to his subconscious in ways he had no control over.

By the time he woke up around 6 in the morning his dick was hard as a rock. He silently shuffled out of the bed and to the bathroom, trying in vain not to wake Tamala. When she heard the bathroom door close she sat up in a huff, ready for him to come back out so she could confront him about this Ashanti girl. She waited and waited for several minutes before she got up and walked towards the bathroom door. She pushed it open slightly and caught sight of her fiance stroking his gorgeous dick in the shower. Any other time she would have gladly gotten on her knees for him at the sight, but this time it just made her sick. Even more so when she heard that name slip out his mouth again.

“Ashanti, mmm fuck just like that.”

Tamala closed the door and went back to bed, facing away from T’Challa’s side. When he returned, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close. Normally she would give in to his desire for morning sex even though she preferred sex before bed, but this time she pretended to be sleep. She just couldn’t face him yet.

T’Challa was only mildly disappointed, he didn’t enjoy sex with Tamala very much but she was there and he was horny. He wasn’t proud of feeling that way, but at least he was faithful to his fiancee in his waking hours.  He still wished he didn’t have to marry her, but at this point he couldn’t back out or his immigration proposal wouldn’t go through. The council had all the leverage over him, so he felt like he had no choice. Tamala was tolerable most days, so he could manage a loveless marriage for the rest of his life, but as far as children went, they had yet to come to an agreement. T’Challa just wanted one or two, but Tamala wanted a whole tribe of little Udakus. Just the thought of it made T’Challa nauseous, but he knew he and Tamala would have to produce at least one heir to the throne. He shuddered at the thought, not of fucking her but of that being the future he had to look forward to.

As much as he tried to not be, T’Challa was still in love with Ashanti in his waking hours, too. Everything reminded him of her, from his mother’s flowers to rainstorms…she loved the rain. He still listened to their combined playlist from time to time, reminiscing on the few short months it took for him to fall head over heels in love. He wished a lot of things in regards to Ashanti, but mostly he wished they had more time together before things went south. Maybe then she would have been able to trust him more and she wouldn’t have left…

It was a dangerous line of thinking that T’Challa cut off when it reared its ugly head. All the what-ifs were almost as bad for him as his guilty conscience, so he shook himself out of it and got up to start his day. As soon as Tamala heard the door shut she let out the tears she had been holding on to. She got up to go shower and get dressed, too. She had a long day ahead trying to figure out who this Ashanti bitch was, and her first stop would be his little sister.

——-

Oh, oh, oh

Mmm mmm mmm

Bambi, Bambi

(Ba bam bam bi)

My dear, my dear, my dear

(Ba bam bam bi)

My dear, I want you here

(Bambi)

Don’t get too near for there’s lions, beware

(Mmm bam bam bi)

Oh Bambi I won’t lie

If I weren’t in this spiderweb of mine

If grandfather never had seven wives

Then darling you would be love of my life

Oh Bambi it’s my design

To run the jungle I must be a lion

Or be a cheetah but neither is fine

Don’t wanna hurt my dear love of my life

Bambi, Bambi

(Ba bam bam bi)

My dear, my dear, my dear

(Ba bam bam bi)

My dear, I want you here

(Bambi)

Don’t get too near for there’s lions, beware

(Mmm bam bam bi)

Ashanti sang along to the song with Binta as they glided around the kitchen cooking dinner.

“Girrrrl,  I just want Jidenna to spank the fuck out of me. I’d be like ‘thank you sir, another?’” Binta swooned at his voice coming through the speakers.

“That man is capital ‘f’ fine. ‘Ruin my uterus and my life’ fine.” Ashanti joked as Kwame entered the room, swaying to the catchy beat.

“This Jidenna?” he asked.

“Mmmhm.”

“You already know,” they both answered at the same time.

“He’s ‘spit in my mouth daddy’ fine” he added.

“Ew, that’s gross!” Binta screamed at her brother while Ashanti had sex flashbacks to her time with T’Challa. There were several times he would have her stick out her tongue and he would spit in her mouth to remind her she was his dirty little-

“Ashanti!” Kwame yelled.

“Huh?”

“Girl were you even listening?” Binta asked her, knife in hand as she cut up the yams for dinner.

“Honestly no, this conversation has me horny as fuck.” she decided it was best to be partially honest, but not all the way. They didn’t need to know she was fantasizing about her ex, she’d let them continue to think she’s talking about the man behind the smooth voice tickling their ears.

“I can’t even blame you,” Binta said as the twins both laughed. Ashanti joined in and went back to her task at hand, but eventually her mind drifted back to T’Challa, “Bambi” providing the perfect soundtrack for the melancholy feeling she got from those bittersweet memories.

Sometimes I hide

When you FaceTime I text you back a lie

‘Cause I’m afraid to look back in your eyes

I’m terrified you were love of my life

The women among the tribe

They will be jealous of this lullaby

I’ll drink alone in my hotel and cry

'Cause now they know you are love of my life

Bambi, Bambi

(Ba bam bam bi)

My dear, my dear, my dear

(Ba bam bam bi)

My dear, I want you here

(Bambi)

Don’t get too near for there’s lions, beware

(Mmm bam bam bi)

Ashanti was on autopilot through dinner and was relieved to make it back to her room so she could be alone with her feelings. She missed T’Challa. Seeing him at the bazaar the other day only made things worse. She had been doing well, but then when he was in front of her and that same powerful aura she missed so much engulfed her, he had her in his trap once again. If she hadn’t left when she did she would’ve completely forgotten about the man’s fiancee and jumped on him then and there. All those feelings came rushing back to her as the smell of his cologne wafted her way and she knew she had to get out of there before she made a fool of herself. For good measure, she twisted her hips a little more as she walked away and she was sure she could feel his stare on her behind as it twitched out of view.

To distract herself, she decided to work on a necklace commissioned by the River tribe elder, but Jidenna’s words haunted her as her fingers attempted to wire-wrap a large lapis lazuli crystal point.

I wish that we were forever young

I always knew that this day would come

The fork in the road where I cannot run

Between love and many I’m loving one

I got the wedding invitation, Bambi

I’m happy that he wants to make a family

But I cannot promise I won’t run up in the church

There screaming your name, Bambi

No one can take you from me, Bambi

No one can take you from me, Bambi

No one can take you from me, Bambi

Bambi, Bambi

(Ba bam bam bi)

My dear, I want you here

(Ba bam bam bi)

Oh baby, don’t get too near

(Ba bam bam bi)

Oh oh oh, there are lions, beware

(Mmm bam bam bi)

Mmm mmm mmm

I don’t wanna see the wedding

I just wanna see my baby

I just wanna see my baby

Most times Ashanti loved when music spoke to her in that way, but this time she just wanted to block out his words.

The wedding…

The fiancee…

She knew her pining was in vain, and that just made it hurt more. She missed him and regretted her decision, but she really did try hard to not let it get to her. She brought it up with Jamila in therapy and they’ve spent the last couple sessions talking about that regret and learning to forgive herself. She understood the mindset she was in when she made the decision to end things, and she couldn’t fault herself for doing so out of fear. She just wished she could go back in time and do it over, or come to this realization much quicker. Now she had to see wedding coverage on every screen and hologram in the damn country. “What will the princess be wearing?”, “Will the king and future queen have a traditional wedding or more modern?”, and “Royal baby predictions: about a year?” were just some of the Bast-awful headlines she had tried to ignore as of late. It was beginning to be a bit much and she considered going on vacation until after they married since it was only a month away. She had plenty saved up and had never really done anything like that before, so she figured she’d give it a try and take herself on vacation.

Ashanti found a quaint little Air BnB in New Orleans that was well within her budget and allowed for long-term stays. She booked it on the spot, before looking for flights out of the new Wakanda International Airport and found a round trip ticket to New Orleans for $45. Once she paid, her heart rate started to pick up. She was really doing this, she was going to go to a whole other country on her own…and she needed to get a passport asap.

——-

T’Challa was hoping to fly under the radar, and so far the shades and hood seemed to be working. He had left his Dora Milaje back at the palace, much to Okoye’s dismay, because he wanted to do this alone. He wasn’t even sure what this is, but he knew he had to do something.

The king stealthily made his way to the heart of the city. He knew it was probably a bad idea, but he just had to see her again. He walked with the hustle and bustle of the crowds, going unnoticed and therefore not having the luxury of them clearing the path for him. He didn’t mind though, they weren’t rude about it.

As he waited to cross the street he noticed the kid next to him staring at him a little too hard. He checked his surroundings and lifted his shades, sending her a wink. She flashed a snaggletooth smile before saluting him and carrying on her way with her mama. T’Challa shook his head, thinking of the baby girl he wanted to have one day. Wakanda’s future queen.

Speaking of future queens, his wrist vibrated and he looked down to see that Tamala had texted him asking where he was. He rolled his eyes and ignored the message, turning the beads off for the time being.

When Taj’s was in view he stopped walking, disrupting the flow of foot traffic. A couple people cursed him out for blocking the street before he realized he was in the way. He stood on the sidewalk, staring into the storefront. He could make out her profile as she spoke to a customer and the king couldn’t help but stare at her beauty.

The king tried to take a step towards the shop, but didn’t move. He tried again, but was still glued to the spot. His legs had turned to stone and he couldn’t lift his feet to move in her direction. His eyes stayed zeroed-in on her. He watched in awe as her coily hair bounced while she nodded her head, and he missed how she spoke with her hands…it had really been too long. He tried with all his might to move again, but he was still frozen on the spot. He had decided to turn around and go back to the palace when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see who it was, and a smile appeared on his face.

“Bisa!”

“Hi dear,” she hugged him and looked over his shoulder at Taj’s to see that Ashanti was still busy and had turned so that her back was facing the window.

“How are you?”

“I should be asking you the same question, out here in disguise spying on my daughter,” she said playfully.

T’Challa laughed as they sat down at a table inside the Mostafa’s restaurant.

“I had planned to actually say something instead of just spying, but I, uh, lost my nerve it seems. I couldn’t go to her.”

There was silence for a moment before Bisa spoke up.

“You still love her?”

T’Challa grew silent again, knowing he shouldn’t say what he most certainly said next.

“Yes, I do.”

Bisa sat back in her chair with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes, good. She still loves you, too. She won’t admit it though. She’s worked through her fear in therapy, but those feelings for you haven’t gone anywhere.” She noticed a tear falling from the king’s eye and she reached out to wipe it away.

“T’Challa, I know you are engaged, but-”

“I have to go through with it, Bisa…for political reasons. I do not love her,” his voice softened with each word and Bisa let out a sigh.

“So you absolutely have to marry her?”

“If I don’t the Mining and Border tribes will not vote for a proposal I have presented them with for Wakanda’s future. She is the Mining tribe princess, so calling it off would anger K’hari, and this would never go through.”

“I thought the king could declare whatever he wanted.”

“No, we are a lot more democratic than most would believe. I have the final say of course, but they can veto my decisions if the vote is high enough. Checks and balances and whatnot…”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware of that…You know, you should go over and talk to her. I bet she’d like that.”

He shook his head. “I thought I was ready, but I need more time. Especially now. Thank you Bisa, you’ve been a wonderful ear.”

“Anytime, son,” she sent him a wink and he chuckled at her nickname.

T’Challa walked back out the door and gave Taj’s one last glance before heading back to the palace.

——-

After her usual morning routine Ashanti strolled into the bazaar, making her way to her shop. She was in a great mood this morning, having dreamed of T’Challa the night before yet again. The dreams used to bring her to tears when she woke up, but now she welcomed them since they were all she could get. She knew that one day they would eventually fizzle out and stop coming to her, but until then she was going to enjoy getting her dream back blown out by the Black Panther.

As usual, her parents were outside cleaning off tables for the morning rush and when they noticed her, there was a certain gleam in their eyes she couldn’t quite place.

“Hi mama, baba,” she hugged them both. “What’s with the looks? I don’t like this…”

Chidi laughed and turned her around so that she could see her shop. Her jaw dropped in shock at the sight before her.

There on her stoop was a huge bouquet of violets, their purple hue seemed to be even brighter than any violet she had ever seen.

Ashanti peeled herself from her father’s arms and walked across the street in a daze. When she reached her door she could only stare at the flowers, noticing there was a note. She was almost too scared to read it, but her curiosity overruled her fear and she reached for the card.

I am sorry, Ashanti. For everything.

-T

In that moment Ashanti knew for sure that he still loved her. Her heart opened up and tears rolled down her face, some bouncing off the purple petals before hitting the ground. She leaned into them and their sweet smell overwhelmed her senses.

Chidi came over to help her move them inside and he smiled at her before giving her a kiss on her forehead. “Give him a call, nugget,” he advised before heading back across the street to his beaming wife.

“Just ‘give him a call’ huh? It’s that easy?” Ashanti said to herself out loud as Jafari entered the shop.

“Wow, who sent those?!” he exclaimed upon seeing the giant bouquet.

“Oh, uh,” she secretly snatched the card and pocketed it. “They’re a ‘thank you’ from the River tribe elder.”

“Funny, I thought they already sent-”

“What are you doing coming in so early?” she tried to change the subject, but he caught on.

“I was in the area…so who are these really from?” Jafari eyed her closely as she struggled to come up with a lie.

“I-I don’t know. No card, see?” He took a look and didn’t see one.

“Ooooh, bosslady has a secret admirer,” he teased.

“No I don’t, for all we know it could be a ‘thank you’ bouquet from somebody.” Ashanti tried to keep the heat off her.

“It’s too big and fancy for a ‘thank you’ bouquet, plus they would’ve left a note. Someone’s sweet on you Shanti.”

“Maybe…well since you’re here can you take over? I have a call to make.”

“Sure thing,” he winked at her and grabbed the broom from her hand. On her way to her workspace in the back, she heard Zina come in before the two started gossipping about who they thought it could be from. They weren’t even close.

Ashanti stared at her rose gold kimoyo beads for a few minutes before she worked up the nerve to activate her communication bead and call him. When she chose his picture her heartrate picked up as the trilling sound filled the air. It continued for longer than Ashanti was used to, so she ended the call assuming he was busy.

As it turned out, he wasn’t busy at all, he was just too nervous to answer her call. When the ringing stopped, his heart dropped and he immediately called her back. When she picked up they just stared at each other and smiled for a moment.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she broke eye contact and looked away for a moment, reminding herself that no matter how many feelings were still involved she would not let herself become his mistress. She had to keep it together.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, by the way. It wasn’t your fault.”

Now it was his turn to look away, fighting tears that welled up in his eyes. He felt a sense of relief wash over him knowing that she didn’t blame him for the incident.

“I blamed myself for a really long time,” he cleared his throat. “So thank you for saying that.”

She could see the pain in his eyes and it was her turn to feel guilty. Moments of silence passed as she stared into his glassy eyes and she contemplated the choices she made. Had she not left him-

“You did what you had to do, I understand that Ashanti. I was never upset at you, only at myself.”

“You had no reason to be, Challa, it was that evil woman,” Ashanti added, tears welling up in her eyes too.

His heart warmed when she called him Challa. He had missed it more than he realized. “I know that now, but…I knew something was coming, I felt it, but I didn’t know what…and for the longest I let that eat me up inside and I…” He let out a heavy sigh.

“You…?”

“I let it drive me to drink. I am an alcoholic, Ashanti. I have been sober for months now, but I was in a very dark place for a long time.”

“That explains the ginger beer at the party.”

“Oh so you were watching me?”

She blushed and tried to hide her grin.

“Everyone was, you’re the king. Oh I never got to wish you a happy birthday, so here it is: Happy birthday!!!”

The two of them shared a laugh.

“Thank you, I really do appreciate that coming from you,” the king said, staring into her chestnut brown eyes as best as he could on a hologram.

“I’m glad. So I guess since we’re sharing, I um…I was too scared to leave my parents’ house for months. I was paranoid and anxious all the time. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat…it took a long time to get back to semi-normal.”

“Why just semi?”

“Because it never really goes away, Challa. It just becomes manageable.”

He nodded his head in understanding.

“How are you now?” the king inquired.

“It’s much more manageable now, therapy has been good. Having a routine helps. I keep myself busy- oh! Speaking of, your sister is a Bast-send. My jewelry business has been booming ever since I opened my commissions back up, and it’s all thanks to her! And you. So thank you both for that.”

“It is as I said, anything for you.”

“You say that like it’s true.”

“Why isn’t it?”

She paused, thinking over whether she wanted to lay it all out there or not.

“Because you’re getting married.”

——-

Tamala made her way down to Shuri’s lab carrying a basket full of fresh mandazi. She knew the princess had a sweet tooth and figured it would be a good way to bribe her for information. As luck would have it, the prince and princess were both there testing out weaponry. They stopped when they heard the doors swoosh open. When they turned around they both kept their poker faces on as they greeted their future in-law.

“Hi Tamala, what brings you down here?” Shuri asked, trying to sound cheerful.

“Well I came to visit family then figured I’d stop by with these! My mama made them right before I got there so they’re fresh. Have some!” She grabbed one for herself then passed them the basket. They grabbed one each and dug in, surprised at how good they were.

“Damn, tell your mama I said I’m coming to dinner tonight,” N’Jadaka said as he reached for another one.

Tamala ignored him and turned to the princess. “So what are you working on?”

“Weapons,”she responded dryly. Her cousin nudged her in her side and she perked up.

“That sounds cool. Hey, Shuri can I talk to you for a second? Alone, if you don’t mind, N’Jadaka.”

“Nah I don’t mind at all. Need anything from me cuz?”

She mouthed “don’t leave me with her” as Tamala was turned around waving goodbye to the prince. The prince read her lips and chuckled on his way out.

“Aight, catch you at dinner then.”

He jogged up the ramp ignoring Shuri’s piercing gaze. As soon as he was out of sight Tamala turned around and her face immediately took on a seriousness that Shuri had never seen from her.

“Shuri I have to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me. Please, as your sister.”

“Ok…” Shuri was nervous about what she might ask, she was such a bad liar…

“Who is Ashanti?”

Her eyes widened and she had to think quickly about how this needed to go.

“Ashanti…oh the artist? Yes she made necklaces for me and mama a while ago. You’ve seen them-”

“Is that the same Ashanti T’Challa knows?” Tamala asked the nervous princess.

“T’Challa knows so many people-” Shuri struggled to make eye contact with her future sister-in-law and that was all the confirmation she needed. It would be easy to find her now.

The next day, Tamala and her personal Dora Milaje warriors walked through the bazaar causing a scene. The princess had never been seen alone with Doras before, so this was a big moment and Tamala was eating it up. She loved the attention she received as the people moved out of her way to let her pass, it made her feel powerful. That feeling is exactly what she needed to harness in this moment, powerful.

Tamala made it to Taj’s and stared at the storefront in disgust. Through the window she could see the same woman he had been staring at all night at his birthday party and she felt sick to her stomach. Just how long had this bitch been hanging around her man?

Two of her Dora opened the doors for her to enter as the customers left the shop to give her space, unused to royalty moving through the city so aggressively. Ashanti turned to see what was going on and the shock on her face was readable all the way from the door where Tamala stood.

“Hello, are you Ashanti?”

“Y-yes I am your highness.” She saluted her and felt her blood boil.

“Well aren’t you…pretty. Hm. I hear you make custom pieces?”

“Yes, I do,” Ashanti said, scared she knew where this was going.

“Good. Well as you know, I’m getting married in a few weeks. I would like you to make me a necklace fit for a queen. Since that is what I’ll be…his queen, Ashanti.”

The artist’s breath caught in her throat. She knew Tamala had to have found out about the flowers or the calls or the texts they had sent each other in the days following their reconnection. They kept it PG, but there was definitely some flirting going on despite the need to remain platonic.

“Ok. Do you have any inspiration or a design in mind?” Ashanti’s voice trembled.

“No.”

“Ok, um-”

“We both know I’m not here for a necklace, Ashanti.” Tamala said as she leaned on the end of the counter..

Ashanti’s legs trembled under her long flowy skirt and her voice caught in her throat. This was the worst case scenario.

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb. My fiance, how long have you been seeing him?” Tamala’s voice rose as she got more and more frustrated with the Merchant girl.

“T’Challa? We’re not-”

“Do not lie to me, I know you have something going on with him.”

“Princess, I promise. We were together over a year ago, not now.”

Tamala stood back up from her perch.

“Then why is he calling your name when he sleeps? Tell me that.”

“I-I don’t-”

“You know what? Save it, just don’t come near him ever again or once I am his queen I will have you exiled from Wakanda.” Tamala said in a huff before storming out of the shop, Dora Milaje in tow. It was about time to close anyway so Ashanti shuffled her feet towards the door to lock up and draw the shades. She could see her parents out in front of the restaurant waiting to talk to her, but she decided to go out the back door and sneak home without talking to anyone. Binta was on a date with Kiki and Kwame had gone to stay with Omar for the weekend, so she knew she would have the house all to herself.

Her beads buzzed, signifying a text. She saw that it was from T’Challa and she erased it before even reading it.

Ashanti stripped herself naked and stared at herself in the mirror for a while before turning on the hot water in her bathtub and filling it up just the right amount before sliding in. The lavender bath bomb she dropped in the water had turned the bath purple and she thought of her breathtaking violets. She knew she couldn’t continue to talk to him and that it was really and truly over now, but she could preserve the flowers and keep them forever. She needed to have something beautiful come out of the last two years.

Not wanting to sit in silence, she called out to her kimoyo AI.

“Hey Kim, play music.”

The tears that had threatened to fall from her eyes finally made the leap as the opening chords to “Bambi” played throughout her bathroom.

——

Two days had gone by and Ashanti still hadn’t responded to him. T’Challa had tried texting and calling her, but the calls weren’t even going through anymore. She had him blocked or changed her number without telling him. Either way, he was upset at the sudden loss of contact, but he knew Ashanti wouldn’t just do that for no reason, so something had to have happened to change her heart so quickly.

The king was visibly tense during the council meeting and even more aggressive in sparring with Okoye and his cousin, which neither one of them were opposed to. By day three he had finally had enough and marched down to his sister’s lab. N’Jadaka was there trying out a new upgrade to the Jaguar habit and T’Challa was relieved they were all in one place so he wouldn’t have to do this twice.

“Ayy, what up cuzzo? Like the new threads?” N’Jadaka’s new upgrade included more visible spots than the last one and he was loving the print.

“Looks good on you.” T’Challa tried to muster up some cheer but couldn’t.

“Why the sour face?” Shuri asked her brother, finally looking away from the screen in front of her and noticing his scowl.

“This stays between the three of us.”

His family nodded and looked on with concern.

“I had been…speaking with Ashanti again-”

“Oh no.” Shuri thought she only said in her head.

“What do you mean oh no?” T’Challa was confused at his sister’s reaction. He knew she loved Ashanti like a sister, so her response made no sense.

“I-I mean, um, you finish telling your story then I’ll um, yeah…” Shuri stumbled out.

N’Jadaka sat back and observed them both in his usual way, sure he knew exactly where this was going.

“Ok, well…long story short, we bumped into each other, then I sent her flowers, and we had been texting and calling back and forth platonically since then…until a few days ago. She just stopped and now my calls won’t go through.”

“Wow, so you and Ashanti huh? Tryna get that old thang back?” the prince joked before getting serious when his big cousin shot him a look.  “You know I support you, but you gotta be real careful man. You’re getting married in like three weeks, just keep that in mind.”

“Yes, I know but-” he was cut off by a sniffle coming from his sister. “Usisi, what is wrong?” His arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“Tamala, she asked me about Ashanti the other day…all I told her was she was the artist who made our necklaces. She said that she heard you say her name in your sleep…”

“Daaaaaamn,” N’Jadaka said exactly what T’Challa felt in that moment. He knew his sister meant no harm, but somehow Tamala had gotten to Ashanti.

The king knew he had two options. He could drop in on Ashanti and try to make things right or he could confront Tamala. He chose the latter so as not to upset Ashanti any further than she surely already was thanks to his fiancee. He excused himself from the lab before giving Tamala a call. Almost immediately after it started to ring, she answered.

“Hi baby!” she answered with a fake smile on her face.

“Hello Tamala, are you busy?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

“Not too busy for you, I just finished-”

“Great, will you meet me at the panther cave in an hour?”

“Sure thing, baby. Is everything ok?”

“Yes everything is fine. See you in an hour.” T’Challa ended the call and ran his hand over his face in exasperation. If he still drank he would have poured himself a glass right about now. To distract himself, he returned to the lab to check out the new upgrades to the Jaguar habit.

Tamala arrived at the cave early since she had been at her parents’ house not too far from there. Her nerves had gotten the best of her when she realized he didn’t seem to be in the best mood and her mind raced over the possibilities until it landed on the one thing she could think of. Her.

When T’Challa arrived a few minutes later she tried to keep a straight face, but her attitude seeped through and he could sense it a mile away. He sighed and rolled his eyes, they hadn’t even had the conversation yet and here she was, already mad.

“Could this have waited until later?” she asked him, annoyance clear on her face.

“What’s the matter now? You were just in a good mood an hour ago.”

“You tell me, T’Challa.”

He could feel his blood pressure starting to rise so he took a couple deep breaths to calm himself.

“Don’t act like a spoiled child, talk.”

“Oh I’m the spoiled child? Ha! Says the man who wants to have his cake and eat it too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I am to be your wife and she is not, so you should act accordingly if you want your little proposal to go through.”

A tense silence followed, his suspicions confirmed. The smug look on Tamala’s face irked him to his core because he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

“So who is this ‘she’ you’re referring to?” he asked for clarification.

“Do not play dumb, T’Challa, it does not look good on you. I am talking about your precious Ashanti. I don’t know how long you have been seeing her behind my back, but it ends today.”

“She is my ex and a friend-”

“I saw how you looked at her, she’s not a friend T’Challa…and she’s also not a concern anymore,” she said flippantly.

“What do you mean?” he took a step forward as she stepped back, bumping into the cave wall as he descended upon her slowly, prowling like a cat.

“I mean, I-I-”

“What did you do?” his voice grew, instilling fear in her heart at the cold look behind his eyes.

“N-nothing, I just told her to leave you alone or-”

“Or?”

“Or I’d have her exiled when I become queen.”

“You will do no such thing!”

He pulled back and lowered his voice when he saw the fear in her eyes.

“And no harm will come to her if you know what is good for you.” he turned to leave but stopped and faced her once more. “You may be my queen, but she will always have my heart. Do not forget this is simply an arrangement.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the cave, heading straight for the Talon. As soon as his shadow disappeared from the cave wall Tamala broke down in tears. She knew he didn’t share her feelings, but she didn’t know just how little he cared. After a few minutes of crying, she regained her composure and sat against the wall with her knees at her chest contemplating her future. She had to do something, or the rest of her life she would be stuck in a loveless marriage, but she couldn’t think of what. Eventually it hit her, and the realization broke her heart.

She would have to call it off.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife

[trissmarrygoals]

the train room

Here is my secret Santa gift for @knightryder24!  I hope you like it, my mom is a librarian so of course I had to jump on that idea.  This was written for @thewitchersecretsanta, thank you so much for getting this together.  This will be posted on AO3 at some point, so check it out there as well

Warnings: None

The library is quiet at this time of day.  If Geralt is being honest, the library is quiet most times of the day, but he chooses not to dwell on that.  Sure, they have some of the lowest patronage in the system, but they’re also in a dying town with no open businesses aside from the bank.

The quiet seeps into every part of the building, seeming to infect his staff and volunteers.  He’s put Dara, his daughter Ciri’s friend and a reliable volunteer despite being fourteen, to work pulling holds, and Priscilla and Triss are busy at their computers, probably not doing work.  He doesn’t blame them.  He isn’t really doing anything either, just watching over his little library.

He’s been director here for five months, and it hasn’t been easy.  To survive, the library needs to change, and this small Kaedweni town is nothing if not reluctant to change.  He’s the only one of his staff who currently has a masters, although Triss is putting herself through library school. “Someone should be coming about the train room today.”

He spins around.  He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Triss leave her desk and come up behind him.  “Hmm.”

The train room is one of his projects - or it’s going to be, once he’s buttered the board up enough.  Which might take a while, considering he’s socially awkward and prone to underspeaking, but he’ll make it work.  He suspects Calanthe, the frankly terrifying head of the board, thinks of him as crazy in an amusing way, which is a start.

“You won’t have to do anything besides unlocking the back for them,” Triss assures him.  “It’ll probably be Letho, you’ve met him before.”

He appreciates Triss - saying that she keeps him mostly sane at this job wouldn’t be an exaggeration - but he hates the feeling of being handled.  “It’ll be fine, whoever it is.”  She just grins in response.

“Do you know where the key is?”

He doesn’t.

--

He’s not sure what he’s expecting from a firefighter, but it’s definitely not a man his own age in a blue cable knit sweater that brings out his eyes.  The kid looks like all of Geralt’s friends from library school, mashed into one.  Geralt always felt out of place at library school.

He introduces himself as Jaskier.  He’s bright and bubbly and Geralt isn’t sure entirely how to handle him.  Because he doesn’t just take the key from Geralt, oh no.  He clearly wants to talk.

“I heard you’re trying to move our train room!” He says cheerily.  Geralt’s stomach sinks.  He didn’t realize the firefighters had heard about that.  He can’t afford to alienate them.  Jaskier must realize, because he laughs.  “Don’t worry, I think it’s a good idea.  Don’t tell the other firefighters I said that, though.” Geralt relaxes a little, but not all the way.  He rarely relaxes all the way these days.  Or maybe ever.

“Do you want to come in?” Jaskier asks with a bright smile that makes something in Geralt do a flip.  “I can give you the official tour.”

“I’ve been in there.”  Geralt pointedly doesn’t bring up the time he was in there alone and one of the train whistles went off because it was definitely nothing and hadn’t scared him at all.  He does watch Jaskier go in, though.  Not like that, the way people joke about watching people walk away, because Geralt is wildly asexual and doesn’t really get the whole butt thing.  But he appreciates the silhouette of Jaskier in the dark room, the way he moves, the lines of his body.  He’s a beautiful thing.

And suddenly, Geralt knows he’s fucked.

--

The train room opens after Thanksgiving.  Suddenly, Geralt’s little library is flooded with people, none of whom are here for books.  He tries not to be bitter, but as much as he worries about their circulation numbers, he finds he prefers the library quiet.  He likes having it to himself.

There are always firefighters watching the door, welcoming people in.  Geralt’s pretty sure they bro around in the back - the previous director told him tales of them using a grill in the train room, but he’s not sure if there’s truth to it.

He definitely doesn’t hang around to see if he can see Jaskier.  Not at all, not even a little bit, even though Triss definitely notices.  She keeps giving him Looks, which Geralt ignores because nothing is going on.

Except every time Jaskier is there, he always seems to make a point to talk to Geralt.  He’s happy and chipper, but Geralt tries not to read anything into it.  Why would someone like Jaskier be interested in a dour library director?

"You have a daughter, right?" Jaskier asks one day.  "You should bring her by!"

Geralt almost points out that Ciri is fourteen and likely to consider a train room little kid stuff (not to mention that she's heard Geralt ranting about it for the past few months) when Jaskier says, "I'd love to meet her!"

It would, Geralt thinks, probably be good for the library director to be seen engaging in a town tradition, especially since most residents seem to consider him very much an outsider.  Yeah.  He'll drag Ciri along, and maybe Yennefer, for the image.  Or maybe not Yennefer - when they go out in public people tend to make assumptions, and he doesn't want - he doesn't want <i>the town</i> getting the wrong idea.

"We'll be there," he says gruffly, before returning to the shelter of the circulation desk.

--

They go the next weekend.  Ciri is less resistant than expected, mostly because she sees it as an opportunity to engage in her favorite holiday pastime, forcing her dad to engage in "festive" activities and then laughing at him.  In a stunning display of hypocrisy, she also mocks him for the rare times he gets too into the season's spirit (he and his brothers admittedly get intense about tree selection).  Teenagers.  You can't win.

They pull up at the library in Yennefer’s Prius (Geralt’s truck has, yet again, broken down) and Ciri doesn’t wait for him before throwing open the car door and running for the library steps.  The line of people has snaked out the door, and Geralt shudders at how much heating is going to cost this month.

Standing in line is never pleasant, but Geralt and Ciri have a time honored tradition of games to play while doing so - quietly deciding which of their linemates are secretly monsters.  Before long, they’re through the big glass doors, standing in the warm lobby.  Ciri takes her mittens off and shoves them in her coat pocket.

There’s hot chocolate set up in the corner, and Geralt is surprised to see a few people looking through the permanent book sale as they wait.  Without really meaning to, he strains to see Jaskier, but the hallway is blocked with people in bulky coats.

Ciri sees him looking.  “Expecting someone?  Scoping out the competition?”  She’s been thoroughly filled in on Geralt’s plans of conquest.

“Yeah, sure.” He tells her, distracted.  One of the mittens is falling out of her coat pocket, so he takes it out and puts it in the opposite pocket.  She pouts.

“Don’t dad at me in public!”

“But we’re in public, and I’m your dad,” he tells her, deadpan, and she groans.

There’s a soft chuckle from behind them, and Geralt turns to see Jaskier.  He’s wearing a jauntily bent santa hat and a cable sweater with trains on the front, and Geralt gets the sudden and deep urge to hug him.

“Hi, Geralt,” he says, sounding strangely breathless.  “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

“It’s uh.  It’s good for the library,” Geralt says, and fuck.  If he’s falling over his words like this that means it’s worse than he thought.  Luckily, Jaskier doesn’t call him out on it and turns to Ciri instead.

“You must be Cirilla.”

“Ciri,” she says, sticking out her hand for a firm handshake, the way Yennefer taught her.

“Ciri,” he agrees.  “Thanks for coming with your dad today.”

“Oh, I couldn’t let him go on his own,” Ciri says with a sly grin.  “He gets lonely.”

“I’m right here,” Geralt grumbles, but they ignore him, moving towards the train room and chatting like they’re old friends.

The train room, Geralt will admit, is a lot more impressive when it’s all set up and the lights are on.  All the firefighters he sees give him cheery smiles, so he must not be too on their bad side.  That or they’re all very good actors.

--

Christmas comes and goes.  Geralt and Ciri spend the morning together, before heading to Vesemir and his husband Ellis’ house for dinner.  Yennefer joins them, and at Geralt’s invitation, Triss drops in.  Geralt has a sneaking suspicion the two of them hit it off.

It doesn’t snow on Christmas, but it snows the day Geralt goes back to the library.  As a part time employee, he got a slightly better holiday deal than most of his employees.  To his surprise, the little building seems to echo without the throngs of people.

It doesn’t change his mind about wanting that space, though.

But he does miss something, and it doesn’t take him a long time to realize it’s Jaskier.  As he shovels yet more snow off the library stairs and ramp, he finds himself thinking about their talks when the train room had been open.  As he weeds in the stacks, he thinks about the easy way he’d conversed with Ciri.  As he searches desperately in the circ desk for the book drop key, he thinks of how Jaskier would smile at the story.

Triss and Yennefer go to see a movie together.  Triss, for reasons Geralt doesn’t want to think about, avoids telling him the details, but Yennefer suddenly starts volunteering at the library.

The thing is that Geralt could find Jaskier.  If he wanted to be wildly unethical, he could look up his phone number in the system, but that thought barely crosses his mind before he dismisses it.  But he could ask around.  He doesn’t think Jaskier would mind if he asked the fire chief to pass along a message.  He doesn’t, though, for a multitude of reasons, all of which boil down to the fact that Jaskier deserves a better relationship than Geralt can give him.

When it comes down to it, Geralt’s good at people, but he’s not good at relationships.  He’s not even really good at friendships outside of Yenn (and Borch, and Zoltan, and Milva, and maybe Triss).  When he’s hurt, he emotionally pillbugs - pulls all the soft parts inside, leaving only the shell.  He’s working on it, but it’s still his go to reaction.

So he doesn’t do anything, and when he lets himself daydream at all, he thinks about next Christmas.

--

Jaskier shows up on a Wednesday.  It’s late January, and the snow has all melted except for dirty gray lumps where the plows piled it up.  Geralt is in his office, head full of book orders, and Triss knocks on the door.  “Someone’s here to see you,” She says.

Jaskier is standing behind her, looking nervous.  “Is it okay if I come in the office?”

“Yeah,” Geralt says, slightly stunned.

“So I was thinking,” Jaskier says.  “About your idea about the train room.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  And I want to help you with it.”

Geralt looks at him, taking him all in.  Then he says, “I think.  I think we should go to the Poppy for lunch this weekend.  To talk about the train room.”

Jaskier grins.  “Just to talk about the train room?”

“Maybe not just that,” Geralt says, smiling back.

[maroonmorons]

Also since you said you'd like more prompts: Buck for some reason ending up holding a baby and Eddie sees it and despite the fact that they literally just got together and it is waaaay too early to think about it, Eddie's mind is already making up images of Buck holding their child while Chris peers down at his new sibling. Orrrrrr a story where Buck grows his hair out and Eddie (again) loses his shit because CURLS and the team teases him. - cinnamon roll anon

(ok so I started writing this and it got a wee bit crazy so hopefully you don’t mind adlfkslfnsdnf)

honesty means telling you the truth (buck/eddie, T, 2k) AO3

           “No, Daddy!Like Bucky’s!”

Hesitantly, meeting Christopher’s eyes in the mirror, Eddielowers the brush he’d been gently working through Christopher’s curls.

           “Like Bucky’s?”

           “Yeah!”Christopher insists. “Down.”

He jerks his hands in a sideways motion that’s apparentlysupposed to mimics Buck’s.

           “Mijo,”Eddie sighs, “I don’t know how Buck does his hair.”

           “Why not?”Christopher demands, as if it’s perfectly reasonable for Eddie to ask his bestfriend about his grooming habits.

           “I’m notsure. You can ask him next time you see him, okay?”

Christopher sighs but immediately pairs it with a softsmile.

           “Okay,Daddy.”

           “Daddydoesn’t have these luscious curls,” Eddie teases. “Daddy doesn’t know.” Heworks the brush through Christopher’s hair carefully before putting in a littlegel and tousling Christopher’s hair.

Truthfully, he’s not sure he wants to see his tiny son withsuch an adult, pulled together style. But, if it will make Christopher happy –Eddie is more than willing to adjust.

…

The day ends up being painfully long and Eddie nearlyforgets to mention the conversation to Buck.

It’s only when Buck emerges from the shower with his curlsstill doused and a towel around his shoulders to protect his fresh grey t-shirtthat Eddie thinks of it again.

           “You know,Chris asked me to do his hair like yours today.”

As expected, Buck’s entire face lights up.

           “No way,”he grins, “really?”

           “Really,”Eddie confirms. “He said ‘like Bucky’s!’” Eddie does a purposefully silly highpitched voice to imitate his son.

Buck grins so wide his eyes all but disappear.

           “He’d lookso cute. Then again…he always looks cute.”

Eddie almost puffs up his chest with pride, even thougheveryone in the station already knows how proud he is of Christopher.

“Chris is so young though,” Buck adds, expression turningsoft and thoughtful, “he should just have fun right now.”

Eddie arches a brow.

           “So, youdon’t have fun anymore?”

Buck scoffs.

           “Obviously,I have fun, Eddie. I just gel my hair because helmet hair, duh.”

           “What aboutwhen you’re not here?”

           “I don’tgel my hair when I’m just working out or chilling at home,” Buck says, shrugging.He pulls the towel from his shoulders as he approaches his locker, snapping thetowel playfully at Eddie even though they’re not close enough for it to makecontact.

           “You alwaysgel your hair when I see you,” Eddie points out.

Buck is silent for long enough that Eddie looks back up frombuttoning his own shirt.

Is Buck blushing? The back of his neck and what Eddiecan see of his cheek are tinged pink.

           “Just usedto it,” Buck mumbles finally.

           “You justsaid you don’t gel it every morning though,” Eddie argues.

He doesn’t know why he isn’t letting it go but…well, he justisn’t.

Buck sighs, half turning to Eddie.

Yeah, he’s definitely blushing.

           “It looksbetter, alright?”

           “Awwww,”Eddie coos. “You make sure you look nice for me, Buckley?”

           “You knowyou’re handsome,” Buck says.

His mouth does a funny little thing around the word handsome,as if he’d been about to say something else.

           “Do I makeyou feel insecure?” Eddie asks, frowning now.

Buck groans in response.

           “No, youdon’t. Okay? Just. Let’s talk about something else.”

Eddie finishes his shirt, letting Buck think he’s going tolet it go. Then, he crosses to his best friend and busts out his signaturemove.

His hand meets the juncture between Buck’s neck andshoulder. He presses just hard enough to convey his sincerity.

           “You cantell me, Buck.”

Buck sighs and rolls his eyes quickly before meeting Eddie’sgaze again.

           “My parentsgot me started doing it when I was young. So, it’s pretty much ingrained in menow.”

Eddie has to run his tongue over his teeth to keep himselffrom saying something rash.

           “Well,” hesettles on, “if you ever decide to let your curls down – you’ll matchChristopher.”

It’s enough to ease a smile back over Buck’s lips and Eddiecounts it as a win.

…

>> so Friday night..

Eddie frowns at his phone screen.

Is he forgetting plans?

Friday night?<<

>> I could come over

Buck supplies immediately.

>> spend the night and help Chris do his hair inthe morning

Eddie smiles at the thought immediately.

sounds great<<

He’s definitely gonna have to take pictures.

…

The week drags its feet all the way into Friday afternoon,enough that Eddie feels like he’s going to go crazy with it.

Everything is more than ready for Buck to come over. It’s tooclean, actually.

For all the shit Eddie gave Buck about trying to look goodfor him – he’s certainly trying to look good for Buck now.

Dios mío, Eddie thinks.

It’s a good thing his best friend can be oblivioussometimes.

If only Buck knew…

But it wouldn’t be a good idea to think about that now.

Buck won’t be here in the next five minutes but he will behere soon. Not to mention, Eddie can’t sneak off when he gets here either.

So, nope. Eddie will not be thinking about what Buck lookslike fresh out of the shower. He won’t be thinking about Buck growing his hairout so it would be long enough to hold onto. No – he certainly won’t bethinking about that.

Eddie takes a deep breath and thinks about getting a glassof ice water to drink.

Yup, think about ice, Eddie. Just think about ice.

Eddie’s will is tested increasingly as the night progresses.

First of all – they have popcorn with extra butter. This hasBuck constantly touching his lips and leaving shiny smears of butter along thepink curves.

Then, of course, he’s wrapping those same lips around theneck of his beer bottle to drink from it.

And (worst of all?) when they watch Air Bud Buckcries. He tries to hide it but he’s biting at those damn lips and making theseawful snuffling sounds that make Eddie want to duck and cover his way right outof the room.

Finally, Eddie has to smack the side of his arm where it’slying across the back of the couch.

Luckily, Christopher remains oblivious between them.

What the hell? Eddie demands with his eyes.

On screen the golden retriever is eating pudding excitedly.

Judging by the tilt of Christopher’s head he’s concerned buthe’s certainly not as affected as Buck.

But Buck just squints at Eddie before hunching his shouldersand crossing his arms.

Eddie doesn’t miss the way Buck’s hand keeps sneaking up tothe corners of his eyes for the next several minutes.

Eddie doesn’t check on Buck verbally until the movie isover.

           “You good?”

There – that’s safe. He could just be asking if Buck is tootired. Right? Right.

Buck shoots him a smile that Eddie examines for a longmoment before allowing himself to relax.

           “Fine, Eds.You good?”

Eddie nods in confirmation and Buck immediately leans downto Chris.

“And what about you, Superman? You good?”

           “I’m good,Bucky,” Christopher says, only half yawning.

           “Good.”

Buck looks to Eddie again, cheeks darkening when he seesEddie still watching him.

For a split second, it sends a sliver of unease throughEddie.

Does Buck know?

He can’t.

Right?

Christopher only makes it through half the next movie beforedropping off and Eddie carries him to bed before helping Buck clean up.

He makes sure Buck’s set up in the guest room before making hisway to his own bed.

He may or may not sigh wistfully to himself on the way thereand once he’s settled in.

…

When Eddie makes his way to the coffeemaker the followingmorning he sees there’s already coffee brewed.

As he makes himself a cup, he listens to giggles coming fromthe bathroom.

By the time he walks back down the hallway there’s a smileon his face.

Buck and Christopher are side by side in the mirror,Christopher grinning into the mirror as Buck touches up the sides of hisperfectly gelled hair.

Buck’s hair is still surprisingly gel free and damp from ashower. He must have been up even earlier than Christopher.

           “Okay,”Buck says, “now for the finishing touch.”

He helps Christopher put his glasses back on, fingertipslight against Christopher’s head.

           “I looklike you, Bucky!”

           “You do,”Buck agrees, grinning right back at the boy. “And I look like you!”

Fuck, Eddie thinks vaguely.

Buck is going to be the death of him. Sooner rather thanlater it looks like.

           “Mijo, youlook so old!” Eddie teases. “When are you moving out?”

Christopher giggles.

           “Never,Daddy!”

           “Good.”

Eddie squeezes into the bathroom and sets his mug on thecounter so he can pick Christopher up.

           “I love you,Son.”      

           “I love youtoo. And Bucky.”

Christopher wraps both arms around Eddie’s neck even as hesays it, so Eddie’s not too bothered.

Eddie deposits Christopher at the table in the kitchen, arelieved smile fitting itself to his lips as he sees Buck brought his coffeeout behind them.

           “Thank you,”he says, accepting the mug. “Your curls are adorable, Buckley.”

Predictable, by now, Buck blushes in response.

           “Well, they’renot all smooshed from my helmet or my pillow. So…they look alright.”

Eddie’s not sure he’s allowed. But he’s also not sure he’llever have the chance again.

Disguising his nerves by taking a sip of coffee, he reachesout with his left hand to run his fingers through Buck’s curls.

There’s more hair than Eddie expected and his fingers curlwithout his permission.

Before he realizes it he’s got a handful of Buck’s hair anda mouthful of coffee. Eddie’s brain is painfully unable to determine what to dowith either.

Slowly, his brain starts to crank into action again.

He lowers the mug in his right hand and carefully swallows thehot coffee. Then, he forces himself to release Buck’s hair.

           “I, uh,didn’t know your hair was so long.”

           “Yeah,”Buck says, “curls are, uh, deceptive. I should get it trimmed, actually.”

           “Don’t.”

Fuck. You were almost out of the woods, Diaz.

           “Um,” Buckhalf smiles. “Why not?”

           “It…looksgood,” Eddie says lamely.

           “Does itfeel good?”

           “I…”

           “You?” Buckprompts.

           “Should makebreakfast.”

           “Okay,”Buck agrees, letting him off the hook.

Eddie has a feeling it has a lot more to do with Christophersitting at the table than anything else.

…

The locker room is empty when Eddie arrives for the nextshift and he changes perfunctorily.

He doesn’t see Buck until he gets upstairs and he verynearly stops in his tracks.

Buck’s hair is defined with gel but not brushed in anyspecific direction.

He looks amazing.

More than that though, what’s got Eddie’s stomach curling inon itself, is that Eddie knows it’s for him.

Buck has a smile that looks like it’s just for Eddie as heapproaches.

Eddie can’t help but think that yeah, that smile probably isjust for him.

           “Hey,” Bucksays.

           “Hey,”Eddie returns.

He has literally no idea who is upstairs with them. He hasn’tlooked yet and doesn’t much care.

“Your hair looks nice.”

           “Thanks.”

Buck blinks twice rapidly.

“I thought maybe if I did something for you, you’d dosomething for me?”

Even though he feels breathless, Eddie forces himself to respond;

           “Yeah?”

           “You couldask me on a date,” Buck suggests.

           “Is thatsomething you want?” Eddie can’t help but ask.

           “Don’t youalready know?” Buck demands after huffing out a laugh.

Eddie tucks his hands in his pockets and lifts both shouldersin a shrug.

           “Chim, Chim,”Hen is whisper shouting, “get up here, it’s happening. It’s happening!”

Buck and Eddie both ignore her.

           “Yes,Eddie, I would like to go out with you. Now, will you actually ask me out?”

           “Can we grabsome dinner next time we’re not both here?”

           “Yeah. CanChris come for the first part?”

He’s gonna be the death of me.

           “Yeah,”Eddie agrees faintly. “He can.”

For the first part.

Still, might not be a bad way to go…

[myhockeyworld87]

Love Me Anyway - Tyler Seguin - Part 5

Word Count: 3371

POV:  Starts out in Reader and changes to Tyler

Warnings: Language, fluff 

Notes: Hope you guys enjoy this one. The next one won’t be up for 2 weeks. Happy Reading

READER’S POV

You fell asleep last night with a smile on your face. Your date with Tyler had been nothing short of amazing. He seemed to really love everything that you’d planned. You woke up in the morning giddy, and literally kicked your feet in the air shrieking. You always sang while you got ready in the morning but today you were just belting it out, as you got ready to meet Jenna for lunch.

Jenna had sent you a quick text telling you Mimi and Becca were tagging along. Which made total sense, since you four did practically everything together. You met your friends at a little restaurant you always dined at. You were the first one there so you grabbed a table for the four of you. You contemplated texting Tyler when Becca and Jenna walked in.

“Hi, ladies,” you said as they sat down.

“Hi yourself,” Jenna replied. “From the look on your face, it looks like your date went well.”

“I could say the same to you,” you quipped back at her.

Just then Mimi walked in. “Please tell me I didn’t miss any of the juicy details from either of these dates.”

“Nope, we just sat down,” Becca told her.

“Alright, you two then spill it,” Mimi said looking between you and Jenna.

“You first,” you said to Jenna. You knew she had a crush on Derek for a long time and you were happy to see things finally starting to work out between.

“It wasn’t really anything special,” Jenna stated. “He came over to my place and we ordered take out.”

Mimi stopped her. “What did you order?” You all looked at her, like does it really matter. “Guys, I’m a reporter. I need to know all the details, nothing is too small.”

“We just ordered some Chinese, from the restaurant around the corner. He brought over some wine so we had that as well.” She proceeded to tell you. “We didn’t talk about anything major. It was all really just things we talk about all the time. You know like how he likes to work out and golf. He says I should go with him sometime, but I haven’t played in years.”

“Oh my god, we can totally go out for a round sometime; if you need to practice.” Becca chimed in. She was in a golf league so probably the most qualified to help out. You remember Tyler talking about golf last night as well and thought you may be taking Becca up on that offer yourself, though you’d never actually played. Unless miniature golf counted? You rocked at that.

“I just may take you up on that,” Jenna continued, dragging you away from your thoughts about Tyler. “But then we just rented a movie.” That’s all Jenna said. You knew there was more to the story, but she wasn’t spilling the beans.

“Oh, come on there has to be more than that.” You inquired.

“Yeah, what did the two of you watch? Last time he was over at our place, he and Bryan were watching some stupid Beavis and Butthead reruns they found on Netflix. It was so annoying; I ended up going to bed early with the dog. Please tell me it was better than that.” Mimi added.

“Oh, we watched Top Gun. I’m a sucker for that movie and Derek had heard they were doing a sequel or something.”

“Oh, I love that movie,” Becca said. You all were nodding your heads in agreement. “I could probably quote most of it.”

“So, did he make any moves on you?” you had to know.

“How about you tell us what happened between you and Tyler.” Jenna deflected.

“Oh, I will but I need to hear all the juicy parts between you and Derek first.”

“Well….I mean you know how when Goose dies it’s all emotional and things. Well, he pulled me over closer to him then. Nothing happened right away, but….Then we just started making out. We never really saw the end of the movie.” Jenna giggled.

“OOOOO,” Mimi said. “Sounds like you two are going to be an item. Did it go any further?”

“Not much,” Jenna admitted. “You know it’s weird. We’ve been friends for so long, I just don’t want to ruin that.”

“Well, they always say you should marry your best friend,” Becca stated.

“If that’s the case we’d all be married to each other,” you chimed in, causing everyone to laugh. “But really, I think things between you and Derek would great. Just give it time. It will happen naturally.”

“Alright, Confucius. Enough words of wisdom from you. It’s your turn now.” Mimi chirped at you. “How was your date with Mr. Seguin?”

You blushed. You couldn’t help it. “Did you guys have sex?” Jenna asked seeing how red you were getting.

“God no. I mean not yet. You know I’m not looking for just a quick lay.” You answered her back. “He was actually really sweet and didn’t really press me for anything more than a kiss.”

“Really?” Mimi asked. “I mean with everything you hear about him; I just kind of expected he’d want more than just a peck on the lips.”

“I know, right.” You agreed. “I thought the same thing, but he keeps surprising me at every turn. We had great conversations all night, and he was such a gentleman, opening my car door and bringing me flowers.”

“So, did he like what you planned out for him,” Becca questioned.

“Oh yeah, he told me it was the best date he’d ever had.”

“Are you guys going out again,” this coming from Jenna.

“Yeah, I think so. I didn’t really know what my week looked like; so I told him to give me a call and we could figure something out.”

“Which explains why you keep looking at your phone,” Mimi pointed out.

“Sorry,” you apologized.

“Oh stop” she answered back. “It’s cute. I can remember when Bryan and I were like that. Now there are days he calls me entirely too much, but I guess that happens when you live together. It’s always, ‘Babe can you pick up some milk?’ or ‘Did you get the dog at the groomers or was I supposed to?”

“Oh my god stop!” you told her. “I’d kill for a relationship like you two have. You guys are so cute it gives me a toothache.”

“Yeah, we all want the kind of relationship.” Becca agreed.

“Awww thanks, guys,” Mimi replied. “I think you two,” pointing to you and Jenna. “Could be well on your way.” You both blushed. “We just gotta find the right guy for you Becca, he’s out there though.”

“What about Jamie? You two seemed chummy the other night at Tyler's,” Jenna inquired.

“He’s so hot.” Becca blushed. “I’d totally date him, but I don’t think a guy like him would be interested in me.”

“You never know Becca,” you said. “I thought the same thing about Tyler, and now here I am telling you about our date.” You girls continued to chat for another hour or so. Finally leaving, but agreeing that you’d text each other and keep up to date on your romances. You headed to the market to pick up a few groceries for the week. You were browsing the aisles when your phone rang. It was Tyler.

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted you.

“Hey yourself,” you answered back.

“What are you up to?”

“Just doing some grocery shopping.”

“Great, I need bread, peanut butter, milk, and dog food.” He teased you.

“I’ll get right on that,” you sarcastically said.

“So I was thinking if you’re not busy later, maybe you’d want to go to the dog park with me and the boys?”

You hesitated for a second. Was it really wise to see him again so soon? You wanted to see him, but you didn’t know if you were moving too fast or not. Oh hell, you were over-thinking things. It’s just walking the dogs. “Sure,” you told him.

“Great. The park isn’t far from my house. I can pick you up around 4 or so.”

“I’ll just drive over since it’s closer to your place. That way you’re not driving all the way over here and then back and then back again.” You were babbling. You were pretty sure that you didn’t have to say all that for him to get your meaning.

“Sounds good babe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Bye”

“Bye,” he finally said hanging up the phone.

You quickly, went through the grocery store, grabbing a bag of dog treats for his boys. You hoped they liked this kind. On a whim, you decided to grab him a small jar of peanut butter, some bread, and some milk. You thought you’d be cute and take it to him. You checked out and headed home to get ready and meet Tyler. He was showing you everything that you wanted in a relationship at the moment and you hoped you weren’t setting yourself by falling to fast for him. You had to believe in your instincts though and maybe just believe in him a little as well.

TYLER’S POV

She was so soft and warm against your body. You could still feel the curve of (Y/N)’s ass in your hands. She was moaning softly against your mouth, begging you to give her more. You trailed your hand up her back removing the clasp of her bra as you went. You let your head dip down to her neck trailing kisses as you went. Her bra was sliding off her, you couldn’t believe that you two were taking things this far. She whispered in your ear how much she wanted you; her hand gliding down your stomach to your erection. She was just about to take you in her hand. When…..she licked you? What the fuck? Your eyes slowly opened as Cash licked your face again. Shit! It was just a dream, but damn what a dream that was. Maybe if you fell back asleep right now you could pick it up right where you left. Gerry came over then stepping on your leg as he made his way to your face, just missing the morning wood you were sporting. Yeah, that’s totally not happening you thought.

“Alright boys, come on I’ll take you out,” you said to the dogs as you struggled to get out of bed. You let them outside to do their business making yourself a cup of coffee while you waited. You heard your phone ding and your heart skipped a beat wondering if (Y/N) was texting you. You scrambled to it only to find it was a text from Jamie asking if you wanted to hit the gym together. Why not, you were going to be hitting anything else this morning; you chuckled to yourself. You shot him a quick text back, brought the dogs in and went to change for your work out.

Jamie was already in the weight room by the time you got there.

“Hey Chubbs, need a spot on that?”

“Sure” you spotted him while he benched pressed some weights. Then you started to warm up. “So, how’d the date go last night?” Jamie inquired. “I was half afraid to text you for fear I’d be interrupting you two.”

“Shut up man, it’s not like that.” You punched Jamie in the arm.

“Oh, so you don’t want to jump her bones then,” he teased.

“Of course, I want to jump her, or er um; well not jump her bones.” God, you were flustered and she wasn’t even around you. “It’s just, (Y/N) is different. There’s something about her, you know. I kind of feel like she could be ‘the one’. You know.”

“Woah, Segs! Don’t you feel like you’re moving a bit too fast?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” you admitted. “All I know is that from the minute she walked in the door at the club, things changed. I can’t get her out of my mind. And yeah, I’d love to have her in my bed and fuck her brains out, but I want so much more. I want to know what her favorite color is? Or does she snore when she sleeps? Does she like chocolate or vanilla? You know all the stupid little things.”

Jamie just shook his head at you. “Well do you think she wants to know those things about you as well?”

“I mean I think so. Last night was perfect. Like beyond perfect. You know she planned the date?” Jamie shook his head no, so you continued. “Yeah, we went to K1 Speed go-carting and then to Dave and Buster's. Oh, and get this, she paid. I mean I didn’t want her to but we bet and she lost and well she insisted. No woman has ever done that for me man.”

“I gotta admit it sounds like a pretty cool date, and finding someone that didn’t expect you to pick up the tab well….” Jamie trailed off a bit. “Shit I don’t think that’s ever happened for me either.”

“She just shows me something. I mean something that I didn’t know that I was missing, something that I feel like I can’t live without. God, I sound like a damn Hallmark card or something.”

“Well, Segs I hope she feels the same. It’s amazing when you find that one person and I truly hope you did. Just don’t let her go.”

You knew Jamie was thinking back on his past relationship with Katie. Things had gone south with them last season. They were either completely full on or tearing each other apart. It wasn’t healthy for either of them. You knew Jamie had gone out on a few dates since and you were pretty sure he was over Katie. You’d heard she’d moved on with one of the guys from some music group she was promoting. “Look, man, you can’t keep looking at the past,” you told him.

“I’m not,” Jamie answered quickly.

“I just mean. She’s out there for you too. We’ll find her.”

“Well speaking of that…” Chubbs added. You looked at him quizzically. “You don’t happen to have the number of (Y/N)’s friend Becca? Do you?”

“That a boy Chubbs,” you said slapping him on the back. “I don’t but I’m pretty sure I can get it.”

You two finished your workout; then you headed home for a quick shower. You were going to take the dogs to the park later and you thought it’d be perfect if (Y/N) could come with you. So you called her up. She agreed to meet you at your place around four. Thankfully the cleaning lady had been by yesterday to clean up your place after the party. You still picked up a few odds and ends lying around and made sure all the dishes were in the dishwasher before she got there. Four o’clock rolled around and soon your doorbell was ringing; the dogs running over barking to greet (Y/N) with you.

You opened the door and there she stood. “Hey,” you said as Gerry started to jump up on (Y/N) excitedly. She went over and greeted him first.

“Hi Gerry, oh I’m happy to see you too.” She said in her cute puppy voice again. “Hi Marshall, Hi Cash,” she told your boys as she petted them. You definitely were feeling left out and sort of regretting your decision to have her come here. If you’d picked her up, you’d be the only one getting her attention. God, were you seriously jealous of your own dogs? You cleared your throat to steal her away from the pups. She looked up at you then, a little sheepishly.

“Hi Ty,” she finally acknowledged, making a move towards you. You thought she was going to give you a kiss, but instead, she went for a hug and you two ended up bonking heads, laughing as it happened. “Let’s try that again,” she said; this time reaching up and touching your face for a small peck on the lips. It wasn’t close to anything like the real kiss you wanted, but you were happy for it all the same. That kiss could come later on.

“Come on in,” you told her. “I haven’t mentioned that we’re going to the P-A-R-K” you spelled out the work park for her. “They’ll be way too excited when they find out.” It was then that you noticed she was carrying a couple bags. You narrowed your eyes at them, prompting her to tell you what she had.

“Oh, I thought you said you needed bread, milk and peanut butter.” She chuckled.

“I was teasing you babe; you didn’t really have to buy those.”

“I know you were, but I figured with a bachelor like you; I should probably bring some food over just in case. You can’t live on beer.” She mocked moving into your kitchen to put the food away.

“I have food,” granted there wasn’t much in there at the moment. “Plus, there’s always takeout.”

“You call this food.” She asked, opening the refrigerator and finding more takeout containers than actual food. “Do you even know how to cook?”

You knew she was teasing you. “Of course, I make one hell of a grilled cheese.”

She was shaking her head at you and smiling at the same time. “Grilled cheese? Ok, I’ll give you that.”

“Maybe you’ll have to cook for me?” You asked, remembering how she told you she enjoyed both cooking and baking.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” she answered as you snaked your arms around her waist. You couldn’t help yourself, you just needed to touch her when she was around.

“You smell good,” you told her as you inhaled her lavender fragrance.

“So, do you,” she answered sliding her hand around your neck.

You bent your head down to touch her lips for the real kiss you wanted from her since the moment you opened the door. There was no hesitation this time as her lips parted for you. You could taste a faint hint of mint from her mouth as the kiss deepened. Kissing (Y/N) was like getting to taste a small piece of heaven until your little hell of a pup interrupted you two. Gerry had wormed his way in causing you two to separate. You and he were going to have a few words about him cockblocking you.

“Weren’t you getting any attention Gerry” (Y/N) stated, kneeling down to scratch Gerry’s head. “Oh, I almost forget.” She jumped up and grabbed one of the bags she brought. “I wasn’t sure what kind to buy, but I thought maybe they’d like a T-R-E-A-T.” Pulling out a bag of dog treats she had apparently got at the grocery store for your boys. God, she was amazing. First buying the treats for them and then spelling the word treat as to not get them excited. How did you get so lucky to find her, you wondered?

“That’s so sweet of you,” you told her. “I’m sure they’ll love them, after their W-A-L-K.”

“Well, are you ready to go then?”

Not really, you vaguely thought. Now that you had her in your house, you had no real inclination to have her leave; but the dogs did need to get a little exercise. “Sure, let’s go to the park.” Not spelling the word this time. The dogs were happily jumping around once they heard the word. Looking expectantly at the door to see when you were going. You grabbed their leashes for the short walk to the dog park and got them on them. You handed Marshall’s leash over to (Y/N), he was most tame and you knew wouldn’t give her any problems. You put Cash and Gerry’s leash in your one hand and grabbed (Y/N)’s free hand with yours. Out the door, you all went. Walking to the park everything just felt so right. You couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before. It’s like all the pieces of your life were finally starting to come together.

[katastroficwriter]

Fic title, "vulnerable"? :)

vulnerable

Summary: Kiibo and Ouma should never be together.

Especially when exploring a decrepit high school with rotting floorboards.

In which Kiibo and Ouma dug themselves a deeper hole than expected when they accidentally crashed to the bottom of a run down school with no other way out.

Tags: Supernatural, Heart-to-heart conversations

                                         ———————————-

“So ghosts, am I right?”

“GAAAH!!! SHUT UP! STOP TALKING ABOUT GHOSTS! I DON’T SEE NO GHOST! GHOSTS AREN’T REAL! YOU PROBABLY JUST MADE GHOSTS UP!” Momota’s sudden outburst easily grabbed everyone’s attention from whatever conversation they were having..

The next thing they saw was the face-splitting grin that slowly took over the supreme leader’s face.

“What’s the matter, Momota Kaito-chan, “Luminary of the Stars”? Scared of a few ghoooooosts~?” he cooed mockingly. “Then again…you know what they say! The more terrified they are…the louder they howl. Wow~!  You’re such a big coward, Momota-chan!”

“SCARED? ME? Of-of-of c-course not! Why the hell would I b-be s-scared of something that doesn’t even e-exist!” the astronaut stammered, taking a couple of steps back. “And I’m no coward!”

“I beg to differ, Momota-kun. There have been countless traces of the souls of the dead roaming in plenty of villages I’ve visited in the past, ku ku ku…” Shinguuji added, waving his index finger a little. “It was truly a wondrous experience. I still remember it as if it were only yesterday.”

“See? Even Shinguuji-chan says they’re real,” Ouma snickered. “And that’s why I want to see them for myself!”

“I-It has to be a lie! You probably roped Shinguuji into this! As long as you’re involved, it has to be a lie!” Despite the strength in Momota’s accusation, everyone can tell how badly his legs were shaking like a newborn fawn’s.

“You’re just afraid of the truth, that’s why you always dismiss it as lies,” Ouma tapped at his lips with a deceitfully serene smile.

“Everybody settle down!” Akamatsu huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “Anyway…what’s with this sudden interest in ghosts, Ouma-kun?”

“Finally! Someone asking the right questions. I knew I can count on you, Akamatsu-chan~” Ouma waved his arms up and down with uncontained excitement. “You see…I wanted to propose a class bonding activity in the form of a test of courage!”

“A test of courage? Hah! I’ll ace that like how I aced my astronaut exam!” Momota slammed a fist against his chest, color returned to his face.

“After your shameful display? I highly doubt that,” the supreme leader made a show of flicking dirt off his nails.

“Ouma you bastard–”

“But a test of courage in Spring? Isn’t that a little…off-season?” Shirogane spoke, raising her hand. “Wouldn’t Summer or Autumn be a more suitable time for those kinds of things?”

“Oui, Oui! Shirogane-chan!” Ouma crossed his arms over his chest. “But you see, the abandoned Saishuu Academy would be demolished next month! We absolutely cannot afford to wait for Summer or Autumn!”

“Saishuu…Academy?” Saihara lifted the bill of his hat as he spoke. “Why there?”

“Huh? Is there something going on with Saishuu Academy, Saihara-kun?” Akamatsu tilted her head to the side.

The detective tugged his hat lower, “Um…none that I know of. It’s just…my great-great-grandfather used to go there during his time.”

“Exactly!” Ouma pointed at the detective. “Saishuu Academy is one of the, if not the oldest school in the entirety of Japan! It’s bound to house a lot of ghosts in it!”

“What makes you so damn sure about that, you gremlin? It’s not like people fucking died there!” Iruma scoffed.

“Shut your stinky mouth and listen, pig, you might actually learn something if you do,” Ouma slammed a hand on his desk.

“H-hiiee!” 

“The school has a clean record, sure. But I’ll have you know that Saishuu Academy was in fact built over an execution ground for criminals! A prison! There’s plenty of deaths on that land, that’s for sure!”

“Nnngh…you’re probably just lying again!” Yumeno pointed an accusatory finger at the leader, though her bravado was belied by her pale face. “Y-you’re just saying that to d-disrupt my mana flow!”

“Oh, but what Ouma-kun said is in fact true,” Shinguuji chuckled. “I even have records of it in my lab. I would present it to you all, however, it’s a very old record and thus very fragile to the elements. I do not wish to damage it.”

“S-stupid! This idea is stupid anyway! Why do I have to go through a test of courage when we already know how courageous I am!” Momota slammed his fists together. “G-ghosts or a-ayakashi, or y-y-youkai, they aren’t r-real and are just stories invented to t-torment the feeble-minded!”

“No need to be shy, Momota-chan, we all know you mean you,” Ouma smiled. “Anyway! If anyone wants to join in the fun, just go meet me and Kiiboy by Saishuu Academy’s school gate. I’ll only wait for 10 minutes. I’m entering the school whether or not you all come, just saying.”

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a class bonding activity?!” Chabashira raised a fist.

“That was a lie, really. I’m just making this announcement in case I die while exploring the place, nishishi! That way you’ll know where to look for my remains.” The leader hopped off his seat and approached the albino robot, who was currently sitting idly by the wall in sleep mode while he charged.  “Speaking of which, I really love nature so make sure you spread my ashes in the forest, okay?”

“B-bullshit! Stop fooling around!” Momota gritted his teeth.

“That aside…did Kiibo-kun already agree to this? I didn’t think he’d be the type to go on trips like this one,” Amami rubbed his nape.

“Oh, he doesn’t have a choice, really,” Ouma proceeded to poke and prod random buttons on the robot’s body. “I just needed something to take paranormal photos of! Kiiboy’s a machine, so he can definitely detect ghosts and print out a photo for us or two!”

“H-hey, you should stop messing with Kiibo, what if he blows up or something?” Momota shuddered had the thought. He still needed to go to space! There’s no way he’s going to die from an explosion!

“…Mmm? Huh? Up already? But I’m only at 79 percent…” Kiibo mimicked a yawn. “How did–”

“Morning sleepyhead~ Wanna go on a test and courage with us later?” the supreme leader flashed the android a toothy grin.

“O-Ouma-kun? Test of courage?” Kiibo’s brow furrowed as he began perusing the recording of the conversation which he slept through. “What for?”

“Just for some good ol’ class bonding,” Ouma tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. “You have no choice by the way, I only asked you for the sake of formality.”

The albino frowned at the remark after reviewing the entire conversation he missed. “You might as well have forgone the pretense of being polite, Ouma-kun. Go use your smartphone instead. After all, it’s still a machine which can also take photos.”

“Whaaat? No way! It has to be you, Kiiboy!” Ouma shook the robot by his shoulders, fake tears streaming down his cheeks. “Your flashlight function is way better than a phone’s! And you don’t need to hit a shutter just to take a photo! You’re more useful and convenient than any old smartphone for this!”

Kiibo paused at the unexpected praise. “…You’re just saying that to butter me up.”

“I’m nooot! I don’t just mean your camera function, I also mean your recording device! You can pick up subtle sounds right? Maybe you can pick up the messages of the dead too! That would be so cool! Come on Kiiboy, pleeeeeeease?” Ouma gave the android his best puppy dog eyes. “And didn’t the professor fix your shitty battery usage problem? That makes you even more useful!”

“Well…true…” Kiibo rubbed the back of his head, still a little weirded out from the leader’s behavior. “…Fine, I guess. But only to keep you out of trouble.”

“Yippeeeeee!!!” Ouma released the robot’s shoulders and started jumping around. “You’re the best, Kiiboy!”

“Kiibo-kun is so easy to sway as always,” Yonaga chimed.

“He still has a ways to go,” Hoshi tugged his hat lower. “He’s too soft, which is exactly why Ouma never stops bothering him.”

“That said, who’s going?” Amami asked, turning to look at the others. “I hardly know anything about the school since I’m almost always overseas, so I’m kinda curious about it. I’m going.”

“I will. I can’t help but worry,” Akamatsu raised her hand. “If something goes wrong, having more people around would make it easier to find help.”

“I will too! It would just be like Ghost Hunt! I’m so pumped!” Shirogane bounced in her seat excitedly. “I actually learned some basic warding spells from some monks for my cosplay research. If something does turn up, we won’t be completely helpless!”

“I’ll pass, this is a waste of time,” Harukawa played with one of her pigtails. “Not to mention dangerous. This is just asking for trouble.”

“I’ll pass too, unfortunately! I have to offer a special prayer for Atua tonight. I can’t afford to miss it,” Yonaga squished her cheeks together.

“I’ll go. I would love to do some recording of my own. Maybe I would be able to discover something new to add to the one I already have,” Shinguuji chuckled.

“Hyahaha! I’m cumming alright! I’m gonna take my ghostbusting gear with me!” Iruma grinned. “Ghosts or not, as long as I can test out my babies then it all checks out!”

“Gonta and Toujou-san are still away on a trip. It’s a shame that they can’t go,” the artist sighed. “Everyone seems so lively about the idea!”

“I don’t want to risk my entry in the next Tennis Tournament if I get in trouble for this,” Hoshi murmured. “Take care though. Don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

“That’s sweet of you, Hoshi-kun,” Akamatsu smiled.

“Well I’m not going! Tests of courage are nothing but a sneaky ploy for degenerate men to get handsy with girls!” Chabashira huffed.

“Mmmm…I’m going, I want to test out my exorcism magic I’ve been honing…” Yumeno rubbed her chin with a thoughtful look.

“If Yumeno-san is going then I will too~!!!” Chabashira pumped her fists in the air.

Saihara chewed on his lower lip before nodding to himself. “I’m going too. I’ve never seen its interior before, but I’ve heard rumors that it had plenty of secret rooms.”

“Wh–you too, Shuuichi?!” Momota gaped.

“It’s totally okay if you don’t come, Momota-chan! Just because your bestie is going doesn’t mean you have to. You don’t have to push yourself so hard,” Ouma cooed.

“Why I outta–”

BING! BONG! DING! DONG!

Ouma said nothing but smirked at the astronaut as he was literally saved by the bell, much to the other Ultimate’s chagrin. Their homeroom teacher entered a few minutes later, successfully ending their discussion about their plans later.

—————————————————-

“I’ll have you know that I’m leaving as soon as an hour is up,” Kiibo spoke as he carefully avoided stepping on rotten floorboards.

“What? Why?” Ouma stared at his partner in disbelief. “Don’t be such a spoilsport Kiiboy! Live a little!”

“Yes, I want to live, that’s why I do not want to stay here any longer than what’s necessary,” huffed the android. “I don’t want to worry the Professor for staying out too late. Not to mention this entire building is a hazard to everyone.”

“Tsk, fine, whatever. But you better get some good shots of ghosts you hear? I don’t want to leave this school empty handed,” Ouma pouted.

“That’s hardly something I can control, Ouma-kun,” Kiibo sighed.

Before entering the school premises, everyone drew lots for their pairs: Kiibo and Ouma; Shirogane and Shinguuji; Saihara and Yumeno; Chabashira and Iruma; and lastly, Akamatsu and Amami. It turned out that Momota’s evident fear of the supernatural made pairing up easy for everyone. They were all going to enter the school in that order, but they were free to explore any of the academy’s floors.

“Still, this really is a big school,” the android said with awe.

“Mmhm! It has tons of stuff in it. A church, a dormitory, clubrooms–” Ouma looked around the area, taking note of tattered and worn school festival fliers still posted on the cracked walls. “The land the property was on is really big, they were going to tear the school down and build a new mall.”

Kiibo looked at the fliers with dismay, “That’s…a bit of a shame. To have a place so full of memories get torn down for something like this.”

“Yeah. But time waits for no one. Money makes the modern world go round. Something abstract like memories don’t have economic value,” Ouma frowned, but eventually relaxed. “Anyway, detected any ghosts yet?”

Kiibo reviewed his memories and shook his head. “Sorry, still nothing.”

“Gahhh that’s so lame. How about we take the other way around?” Ouma huffed.

“N-NGAAAAAH! WHAT IS THAT? A ZOMBIE?!”

“Yumeno-san calm down! That’s just an old human-body model!”

“SAIHARA WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO YUMENO-SAN?!”

“Quite the loud bunch aren’t they?” the raven-haired Ultimate shook his head. “Maybe that’s why ghosts aren’t showing up. Maybe inviting them wasn’t such a good idea.”

“I think it’s better this way,” Kiibo chuckled. “The more the merrier, as they all say.”

“Nishishi! Maybe so,” Ouma huffed in amusement. “Mm? Hey, have we checked this room before?”

“Hmm…I don’t think so,” Kiibo looked up at the rusty signage above the dislodged door. “The library, huh.”

“Oooh! They probably have valuable books left behind, that’s a nice find. Let’s go in!” Ouma grabbed the android by his wrist, skipping through the doorway.

“Wait, not so fast Ouma-kun! The floor might give out–”

*CRACK*

“Huh?”

“Ouma-kun, hold onto me–!”

The floorboards had collapsed under their combined weight the moment they took their first step inside the old library. Down, down, down, they crashed. How many floors have they gone down exactly? None of them could keep count with both of their eyes shut tight. The only thing Ouma could register was the feeling of falling and strong metal arms wrapped around him protectively.

————————————————————-

CRAAAAAAAASH!

Akamatsu’s head perked up at the loud noise. “Oh no…”

As though reading her mind, Amami pulled out his cellphone and sent everyone a text.

‘Yell out your names if you’re safe. If you’re inside a room, get out so we can hear you.’

The pianist and the survivor nodded at each other before initiating the roll call.

“AKAMATSU KAEDE!”

“AMAMI RANTAROU!”

There was a beat of silence until the next person followed.

“YU-YUMENO HIMIKO!”

“SAIHARA SHUUICHI!”

“IRUMA MIU!”

“CHABASHIRA TENKO!!!”

“SHINGUUJI KOREKIYO!”

“SHIROGANE TSUMUGI!”

Silence followed.

“That can’t be right…where’s Ouma-kun and Kiibo-kun?” Akamatsu’s forehead creased with worry.

“That could only mean that they were the ones who crashed. We better look for them fast, they’re probably hurt,” Amami hastily tapped another message, telling everyone to meet up at the entrance hall. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

Akamatsu and Amami carefully proceeded towards the meeting place, mindful of their footsteps now more than ever. Shirogane and Shinguuji arrived at the designated place before everyone else, followed by them, and the others arrived shortly after.

“Ouma’s probably messing with us again,” Iruma scoffed, tapping her finger against her arm.

“I agree! What if he didn’t do his roll call on purpose to spook everyone after destroying part of the school!” Chabashira nodded.

“I don’t think Ouma-kun would do anything to risk his own safety,” Saihara murmured. “Not to mention, Kiibo-kun was with him.”

“Correct! Even if Ouma-kun decided not to do roll call, Kiibo-kun still would have done it himself,” Akamatsu’s brows furrowed in concentration. “Was anyone near the crash?”

“I was on the first floor with Shinguuji-kun,” Shirogane raised a hand. “We heard something crash nearby but we didn’t see anyone at all. If Kiibo-kun and Ouma-kun did fall…shouldn’t we be able to find them on this floor?”

“That’s a good point.” Amami rubbed his chin. “How close were you to the crash, exactly?”

“Not very close, but I can pinpoint us to its general direction,” Shinguuji raised a hand.

“Alright. Everybody stay close. We can’t have anyone else getting hurt,” Akamatsu took a deep breath and slapped her cheeks. “No use panicking! Focus, focus!”

“Shouldn’t we call the fire department for help?” Saihara asked.

“But what if they were taken by ghosts? No one would believe our story!” Yumeno interjected.

“Shh! Everyone focus!” Shirogane turned to look at the others. “Now’s not the time to entertain thoughts like that. We need to try looking for them first before calling the fire department.”

“I’m on board for that. We practically broke some rules just entering this shithole,” Iruma flipped her hair.

“We’re here. I’m not sure of the specific source of the sound, but it should be around here,” the anthropologist proceeded to tie his hair in a neat ponytail.

“Okay, let’s split the rooms among ourselves. Got it?” Akamatsu regarded her friends with a look of determination.

“Got it!”

Their search didn’t end up being completely fruitless when Saihara managed to locate a hole in the infirmary’s flooring. But that very same discovery led them to their next problem. If there was a hole on the flooring of the first floor…then where does it lead to exactly? They were met with darkness even after flashing their lights on the hole. Ouma and Kiibo should have landed on the first floor if not any of the floors just above them.

“This is a big problem.” Amami concluded.

————————————————————

“Ouma-kun. Ouma-kun, wake up.”

Ouma hissed in pain as he shifted to his side. “O-oww…what–what happened?”

“The floorboards collapsed from under us and we fell a couple of floors down,” Kiibo replied, helping the supreme leader sit up. “Take it easy, you have a slight head injury and a twisted ankle.”

Ouma instantly raised a hand to touch his head, only to feel his scarf wrapped around his head. “What floor are we on, exactly?”

Kiibo pursed his lips. “…We would be in the equivalent of the basement floor. I reviewed my memories and we already went past the first floor by a couple of levels.”

“The basement level? The map didn’t have anything like that at all,” Ouma withered in pain, resting his weight on the robot.

“That’s what I thought too. This was probably one of the secret rooms Saihara-kun meant,” the albino paused to point at the spot across them. “…Though judging by the look of those rusted iron bars…we’re actually inside an underground dungeon.”

“If it weren’t for the fact that I’m in pain and we’re currently stuck, I would have thought that this was cool,” Ouma groaned. “Tch. There’s no use texting the others, there’s no way there could be reception in a place like this.”

“…I’m sorry, Ouma-kun.” Kiibo looked down.

The supreme leader raised a brow. “For what?”

“If only I had the ability to fly, I could have gotten us out of this mess right away,” the android explained. “I don’t have the strength to carry you out of this room either.”

“You could have just explored the area, searched for the exit and then come back for me afterwards,” Ouma huffed.

Kiibo shook his head. “That’s a risky idea. I don’t want to leave you alone during a crisis like this. What if more of the school gives out? If I left, there’s a big chance that we’d be separated by debris and only one of us could get out.”

“That’s…true. Heh. I guess my head isn’t working as well as I hoped right now,” Ouma chuckled half-heartedly. “I’m…sorry too. I got us into this mess in the first place. I wasn’t being careful earlier, so we fell. We’re more or less even.”

Kiibo was taken aback by the sincere apology, but did not dare to comment on it. They couldn’t exactly afford to bicker during an emergency like this one. It was clear that Ouma was too hurt to put up his usual mischievous demeanor, too.

“I’m glad you were my partner.”

“Huh?” the albino stared at his companion in confusion.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ouma huffed as he slowly sank into a lying down position, resting his head on the robot’s cool lap. “If I had fallen with anybody else in our group, one of us would have already died; or worse, both of us would have just died and rotted together with this school. Look at you. It was a nasty fall, but all you have are scratches. You really are something, huh.” He grinned up at the albino.

Kiibo chewed on his bottom lip, a little embarrassed from the praise. “I don’t mean this in an offensive way, but–”

“Go ahead and say it.”

“Okay.” The albino took a deep breath. “Ouma-kun, did you rig the pairing lots so that I would be paired up with you? You did point out all of the convenient tools and functions I had for your exploration idea…”

Ouma simply chuckled in response. “You probably won’t believe me, but that was all luck. I never really cared about who you get paired up with, I just wanted the ghost pics.”

“I see…I thought just as much,” Kiibo nodded along. “I wonder if…the others are looking for us right now.”

“They are. You’re with me after all. If it were just me alone, they probably would have just left me behind,” Ouma sighed nonchalantly. “Then again if I were alone, I’d already be dead. Nishishi!”

Kiibo frowned. “Even if you were alone, we would still look for you, regardless of whether you’re dead or alive.”

“And what makes you say that, Kiiboy?”

“We’re friends, Ouma-kun. If such an obvious answer wasn’t clear to you, then you probably need to rest as much as you can right now,” the robot’s frown eased after finishing his sentence.

“Heh…I guess I can do that,” the raven-haired Ultimate shifted in his position a little, careful not to aggravate his aching leg as he did so. “I don’t wanna sleep in a shithole like this though, so you and I are going to be talking for quite a while until we get rescued.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Kiibo smiled.

Being stuck in a very deep hole was probably the worst time to start getting to know a person more. But since that person is Ouma, a crazy situation like this is probably the only thing that could get him to talk sincerely. From his love for shounen manga to his hobbies, these were all things Kiibo had hoped to learn from the supreme leader at school and not in some hidden dungeon.

“Kiiboy, can I level with you for a moment?”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing for a while now?” Kiibo lifted a brow.

“Just shut up and listen to me,” huffed the other teen.

“Alright, sorry.”

Ouma released a sigh before speaking. “…I honestly think I’m going to die here. But even if I die, surely you won’t. That’s why I want you to record something for me.”

“…You mean a will?” Kiibo’s forehead creased with worry.

“Haha! Not quite,” Ouma shook his head. “Just some things I wished I was able to tell everyone before we both got into this mess. A confession of some sort.”

“Ouma-kun…”

“I want you to show it to everyone in the worst case scenario,” Ouma continued. “But if I ever survive this, whatever I’m going to say is going to be just between you and me. Understand?”

“Y…yes, I understand,” Kiibo nodded, though his worry was still very much present on his face.

“I’ll start now, ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“Then I guess I should start about my parents…”

——————————————————————-

It had already been more or less two hours since Kiibo and Ouma crashed. The firemen struggled with trying to figure out how to pull them out from such a deep and dark pit. The realization that their two classmates had fallen lower than what they had expected brought chills down their spine. It took the firemen another hour to finally be able to rescue the missing Ultimates, much to everyone’s relief.

The EMTs carefully strapped Ouma to a stretcher and ushered him into the ambulance so they could take a better look at his wounds. Everyone then got off with a heavy scolding both from the rescuers and their respective parents for doing something dangerous without even contacting an adult. Though for Kiibo’s case, he was praised right after for his quick thinking during the emergency, otherwise the supreme leader would have been in a critical state.

“I hope you all learned a valuable lesson from this experience,” a fireman huffed.

“Yes, sir…” the teens all responded in unison.

“Let’s go home and get you fixed,” Iidabashi gave his son’s hair a ruffle. “Also cleaned up, you’re terribly dirty.”

Kiibo’s gaze lingered at the ambulance before turning to look at his father. “…Okay.”

The premises of Saishuu Academy was completely locked down the next day in light of the incident during the previous night. Both Kiibo and Ouma were sought after by the Newspaper Club, determined to secure an exclusive interview from them regarding their experience of being trapped. Unfortunately for Ouma, his twisted ankle prohibited him from escaping their pesky advances. And just as unfortunately for Kiibo, he still had the stamina of a senior citizen, but his father did improve his strength in order to assist him in emergencies.

“Ouma-kun, may I speak with you for a moment?”

It took Kiibo about two weeks before he could muster the courage to talk to the raven-haired Ultimate. They had to keep a facade that things were back to normal after all.

“Depends on what you wanna talk about,” Ouma leaned against his chair. “If it’s about that then no. I don’t want to hear anything about that stupid school anymore.”

Kiibo shook his head. “It’s…kind of related, but it’s not about the incident.” He pulled out photos from one of his pockets. “I thought that maybe…you needed to see this.”

Ouma lifted a brow, curious, as he accepted the photos.

The android shifted in his place. He specifically chose to speak to Ouma today since everyone was out eating at the cafeteria and the supreme leader had slipped away from the group not completely unnoticed. It was the only chance where they’ll have some form of privacy during school hours.

“UWAAAH! WHAT THE HECK! THAT’S SO CREEPY!!!” Ouma shuffled out of his seat in a panic, haphazardly throwing the photos on the table.

“…You did say you wanted photos,” Kiibo murmured as he picked the photos up. It was a photo of his memory during the incident; specifically the time right after they landed in the hidden dungeon. For a brief moment, he had caught a glimpse of a woman cradling Ouma–she disappeared as soon as he blinked though. That was why he wasn’t able to record her face in high definition.

“Y-yeah! But not when it involved me!” Ouma pointed an accusatory finger at the photos in the albino’s hand. “Have an exorcist burn it!”

“But Ouma-kun…” Kiibo shuffled through the different photos and picked one out to show the other Ultimate. “I think…it’s your mother.”

Ouma’s eyes visibly widened at the photo. It wasn’t taken inside the dungeon, no, the setting was entirely different. In fact, it was right when Ouma got brought inside the ambulance. A translucent woman stood waiting outside of the ambulance. Thanks to the lighting, her face was properly recorded. Even more so when she was looking right at Kiibo, giving him a wave. 

Jet black hair, soft, lilac eyes…

Her features alone were a dead giveaway that she couldn’t be anyone else but Ouma’s mother. 

Ouma shakingly took the photo from the android, this time staring at it with awe instead of fear. “…It’s really her…”

“Yes. That’s why I thought that you needed to see this,” Kiibo scratched at his cheek nervously. “…Do you really want to have these burned?”

Ouma let slip a sincere smile, “…Maybe not.”

Kiibo perked up, pleased to be able to make him smile.

Bonus:

“I’m only keeping this one. Buuut—!” Ouma snatched the photo of the hidden dungeon and showed it to the android. “You definitely have to show this to Momota-chan!”

Kiibo shook his head, “I don’t see why you need to–”

“Show me what?” both Ultimates turned their heads to face the astronaut.

The android paled at the very sight of the grin that took over the supreme leader’s face.

“Kiibo showed me this really cute photo he took on the way to school! And I thought you’d like it too!” Ouma chimed, slightly limping his way towards the taller Ultimate to hand him the photo.

“Momota-kun, wait–!”

Alas, Kiibo’s words fell on deaf ears.

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!”

“Nishishi! So ghosts, am I right~?”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, OUMA!!!”

———————

If you’re wondering why I never explained what those memories were…that’s because Ouma survived. Kiibo’s not obligated to show you what it was.

[currahee-gal]

Omg can you give us some slowburn Liebgott? Or any Liebgott? Also your Toye fic was excellent!!!

WOW THIS ONE IS SUPER OLD! And wait…did somebody say slowburn??? Because do I HaVe A tReAt FoR yOu!! I really hope you like this Liebgott slowburn. I put my blood, sweat and tears into it. And thank you so much!!

The Five Times Joe Liebgott Almost Kissed Her (and the One Time She Did It for Him)

Pairing: Joe Liebgott x Reader

Warnings: Frustration, angst, minor character death, Liebgott being a dorky jerk, reader being a dorky jerk back, lots and lots of cursing, fluffy, honestly it has a little bit of everything except smut so. Please also watch out for misspellings, grammatical errors, as well as overall awkward sentence phrasing. This took a very long time to write and I am very tired. Mostly edited, but I’m not perfect.

Word count: 7,220 (oops my finger slipped)

A/N: Did somebody say slowburn?!?! You request, I deliver. This monster is finally finished and all I can say is thank goodness it is. I really hope you guys enjoy this. I did. I love Liebgott. Send me more Liebgott because I love him. These stories are solely based on the actors from the Band of Brothers series, not on the actual heroes

The hunting party watched the deer flee into the forest in annoyance. Joe slumps his shoulders and groans.

“Oh damn it Shifty, you let ‘em get away! Army oughtta be glad to be rid of you.”

Shifty nods a little before lowering his M-1. “I wish, you know? It seems they want me to stay around a while.”

“Are you serious?” Liebgott’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“How many points you need?” Malarkey asks on the other side of the line.

“15.” Shifty sighs, turning his head to Malark.

“15? Jesus Christ, I thought I had it bad.” Malarkey sighed in disbelief. Shifty shrugged and readjusted the firearm in his grip.

“No purple hearts, never was injured.” With his statement, Shifty took a step forward, the rest of the party following.

There was a long moment of silence that followed. The only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of birds chirping and the crunching of twigs and dry leaves under their army issued boots. It was broken by Malarkey with a statement that made everyone perk up.

“God, if Shifty ain’t goin’ home…”

Liebgott immediately thought of you. He flashed on the conversation he had with you at breakfast this morning.

-

“Can I have your toast?” You asked, your voice still filled with sleep and your eyes cloudy. Joe shrugged.

“I don’t know Y/N, can you?” Joe sneered, glancing up at you from his eggs and potatoes.

“Joseph David Liebgott, may I please have your toast, for Pete’s sake?” You groaned, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. He smiled and shrugged.

“Yes you may.” Joe handed you the warm, buttered slice of bread.

You mumbled a “thanks” as you took a bite of the slice.

Joe poked at his potatoes with his fork for a moment before peeking up at you. You were staring out the window, the sun was hitting your face and making your gorgeous eyes sparkle in the morning light. He also noticed the dark circles under your eyes.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You whipped her head to face him, looking startled. He could see your thought shrinking smaller in your eyes. He felt his chest tighten with a pang of guilt.

“You okay?” Joe put down his fork and furrowed his brows at you worriedly.

The look that came over your features made his stomach churn with worry. Your skin turned pale and your eyes darted down to stare at the contents of your coffee mug. He saw your hands tighten around the cup, your knuckles starting to turn white. He could tell you were debating something in your head. He noticed your jaw clench and unclench as you took a glance out the window again. After a moment, brought the mug to your lips and closed your eyes, taking an inhale before heaving a deep sigh.

“Winters pulled me aside last night. I’m five points shy of going home. I’m being shipped back out.”

-

“Y/N isn’t going home either.” Joe muttered.

“What do ya mean?” Malarkey almost hollered.

“What do ya think I mean?!” Joe yelled back, spit flying from his mouth as he spoke. “She’s five points short.”

“You’re kidding.” Perconte sputtered, shocked. “Christ, it don’t matter if she’s got the points or not, send the poor girl home. She’s been through enough…”

Bull started laughing a little, making the group of men turn their heads to the gentle giant.

“You’d think that after everything, she and Liebgott would’ve gotten married by now.”

This made everyone chuckle, except Joe.

“What the hell are you guys talkin’ about?! I-”

“Oh come on Liebgott,” Ramirez shook his head at his friend. “Don’t play dumb.”

“The two of you have been dancing around your feelings for each other since we were running up Currahee. Don’t try to deny it!” Malarkey grinned. Joe shook his head, a fuzzy feeling bubbling in his chest.

“You guys are nuts. I haven’t even kissed her.”

“You’ve known her for three fuckin’ years now and you haven’t even kissed her yet?! You’re the one that’s nuts, pal.” Perconte chuckled.

“But they have come pretty close a couple of times, if I do remember correctly.” Bull snickered.

Joe blinked a couple times, the memory floodgates bursting open.

1. Lunchtime

The stale summer air lingered in the dining hall at Camp Toccoa. Joe sat in front of his lunch, which looked meatloaf, but he honestly couldn’t tell. All of Easy was exhausted from running Currahee so there wasn’t much talking going on at the table. That was until Webster slapped Joe’s shoulder a couple times.

“What do you want, Web?” Joe drawled.

“Look, it’s her.” Web pointed to the girl in line to get food. Everyone in Easy had heard about the female NCO in their company, but few had been brave enough to try and talk to her. People say she’s fairly quiet and keeps to herself, but she’s impressive. Joe had seen your while running, you were quite the athlete.

“So? She’s just gettin’ her lunch. Big fuckin’ deal.” Joe glances up at you as you start walking towards the tables and soon passes by the two of them.

“Have you talked to her?” Webster glances over his shoulder to see you sit down with Luz and Toye a few tables down. Joe shakes his head, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

“No, don’t even know her name.” Joe gets up from the table, grabbing his tray.

“Where are you going?” Web asked.

“Jesus, Web, quit grilling me! ‘M not hungry, this food is fuckin’ disgusting. I’ll be right back. Try not to miss me too much.” Joe gets up and starts making his way towards the kitchen window. He places his tray on the counter and gives the chef a tight smile. Just as he turns to leave, he runs straight into somebody.

“Jesus, watch where you’re going!” Joe looks down to see the girl standing right in front of him. Now that he’s up close, he can see when people have been ogling at you since you’ve stepped foot on camp. You’re fucking gorgeous.

“Sorry, I just-”

“No, I’m sorry. The heat’s getting to me, my patience is weathering away.” Joe muttered an apology, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s fine, that run has me exhausted too.” You smiled a little, making his heart skip a beat. Joe clears his throat once or twice before attempting to casually lean up against the counter.

“So, you’re the new chick, right?” Joe asked, just realizing how stupid that sounded when it left his mouth.

You nod, sighing as you extend your hand. “Haven’t seen any other girls wandering around, so yeah, sure. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Liebgott, Joe.” He shakes your hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “Cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke, thanks though.” You kindly declined. Joe shrugs and lights his smoke.

“So, what brings you here?”

“What brings me to war? I want to fight for my country and show that a woman can do it just as good as any man.” You take a step closer as you speak. “But if you’re asking me why I came here to the-”

Joe mirrors your action, taking a step forward. You look a little taken aback when he does. You clear your throat as you look up at him, your faces inches away from each other. “Sorry, but can I please squeeze by you? I need to get to the salt.” You cough, looking down at your boots.

“Hm?” Joe cocks an eyebrow, turning around to see about a dozen salt and pepper shakers behind where he was just standing.

“That’s why I came to the counter… I needed some salt…” You meekly point to the shakers. “Whoever set the tables didn’t give us one.” You say with a simple tone, glancing up into his deep brown eyes. You feel your stomach fill with butterflies when you do, so you look at your fidgeting hands. He’s still so close.

Joe blinks, confused for a moment before he steps out of your way. You take the salt shaker and start making your way back to the tables. “It was nice talking with you, Liebgott.” And with a wave, you leave Joe standing there looking like a blushy fool.

“She was tryin’ to get fuckin’ salt?” Joe was kicking mentally himself. What the fuck was he thinking? That you were trying to make a move on him, so he meets you halfway? When all you really wanted was fucking salt?! Good one, Liebgott. Real fuckin’ smooth. Great first impression.

Joe looks to see you already back at your table, laughing at something George had said. Joe crosses his arms as he starts walking back to his seat with David.

“Hey Lieb-”

“Shut the fuck up for once, will ya Webster?”

2. The Party

The celebration was in full swing and the music could barely be heard above the cheering. Liebgott was chatting with Popeye and Talbert, drinking beers and laughing.

“So, Liebgott,” Tab slurred with a wolfish grin. “People have seen you gettin’ closer with Y/L/N.”

“Yeah,” Popeye smirked. “What’s all that about?”

You and Joe had gotten closer since you had met at that one lunchtime. He had learned that you were just a little shy, but once he started talking to you, you were a real hoot. The rest of the company learned that too over time. He had earned the title “Pretty Boy” (a pet name bestowed upon him by you, of course). That was another thing that the company had learned quickly. For some reason you, seemingly, favored Joseph David Liebgott.

Joe grins and shakes his head. “So I talk to her, what a scandal! C’mon, guys, so I hang out with the girl. What’s the matter with that?”

“Nothin’ it’s just- ” Tab trailed off and stared at something behind Joe. When Joe turned around, he saw you and Donald Malarkey go to the small open space at the front of the room and start to swing dance. He’s spinning you around and lifting you and your smiling and laughing. Joe feels his heart stutter at the sight, but something in his chest swells. He wanted to make you feel like that. Was he jealous? He would never admit it, but yeah, probably.  

“Tab?” Joe turns to his friend. “Hold my beer.”

“Lieb-” Tab tries to say something but Joe is already on the move. By the time he reaches the pair, the song is coming to an end.

“Can I cut in?” Joe holds his hand out for you to take. You glance over at a now pouting Don, and him a sympathetic smile as you leave his arms and take Joe’s hand.

“I don’t know, can you?” You pull Joe out onto the floor.

“Smartass.” Joe tsks.

“You know, it’s not very polite to address a woman like that. You’re being a bit of an ass.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry ma’am.”    

Just then, a slower paced song begins to play. Joe glances up to see Luz and Tab standing by the record player, Tab raising his beer in the air, mouthing “cheers” and Luz grinning the biggest grin Joe has ever seen. Joe rolls his eyes at the pair before places his right hand on your waist and takes your right hand in his left. You begin to sway to the music flowing from into the room.

“You’re hair looks good, Lieb.”

“Gee, thanks! I washed it.” Joe grins and he spins you and pulls you back to him.

“I didn’t take you for much of a dancer.” You observed with a smirk. “I saw you more as a ‘stand-in-the-corner-and-brood-with-a-beer’ kind of guy.”

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me yet, sweets.” Joe shrugged.

“Joe Liebgott, full of surprises.”

“Tell me about it.” Joe nodded with a chuckle. “How’s your night so far?”

“I missed dancing. My older brother Stanley and I used to go dancing every Saturday.” Your face lit up at the mention of your brother. Joe smiles and nods.

“You gotta brother?”

“Two. I got my older brother Stanley and my younger brother Brian. Stan enlisted in the Navy and Brian’s only fourteen so he’s stuck at home with Mom. He’s probably bored out of his mind.”

“Navy, that’s impressive.” Joe remarked with a smirk. You nodded.

“He’s an impressive guy. Bull reminds me of Stan. Big guy. Looks like he could snap you in half but he’s a real sweetheart, ya know?” You laugh and Joe laughs along with you. Watching you laugh made Joe’s chest prickle with some kind of feeling. It made him pause, but he put it out of mind.

“Bet he scared off all your boyfriend’s that came knocking on your door, huh?” Liebgott gushed, not being able to stop himself. He felt his cheeks warm out of embarrassment for asking such a forward question so boldly, but you just seemed to laugh it off.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

You two danced for a few moments, swaying to the music in each others arms. You lean your cheek on his chest and Joe tenses for a moment.

“What about you?” You wonder out loud, your voice almost in a whisper.

“What about me?” Joe questions, glancing down at you. He noticed your head fit perfectly right under his chin. The thought made his lips twitch into a smile.

“You got a broad back home waiting for you to come home after all of this is over?” You bring your head up from his shoulder to look back at him, noses practically touching. You could feel Joe’s heart beating in his chest and he could feel yours. Joe shakes his head.

“Nope, just me.” Suddenly his confidence slowly leaves his body, his voice low and almost wavering. He was looking right back into your eyes, and he felt himself drowning. You were so close to him, he could smell your perfume. It was intoxicating.

His eyes slowly drifted down to your lips, which were painted a bright cherry red. You bit your bottom lip, your hand slowly snaking its way behind his neck.

“Lucky me…” You sigh as your eyes flutter closed.

Joe closes his eyes, he starts to lean in and-

scrEEEE

“TEN-HUT!”

The two of you leap apart from each other and stand at attention. Colonel Sink struts into the room with Major Strayer and Winters and Nixon off to the side. Joe sighs with a defeated look evident on his face. He glances over at you to catch you already looking at him. You quickly flick your gaze back to the Colonel.

Colonel Sink gives a short speech detailing how proud he was of the company.

“I want you to know that I’m damned proud of each and every one of you. However, I would like to take a moment to recognize Corporeal Y/N Y/L/N. You’ve shown just what it means to be a fine soldier and paratrooper, and you, m’dear, set the bar high for these men and for everyone that follows. You’re making history here. Congratulations, Corporeal.” The Colonel smiles down at you.

You feel yourself flush red as the who company starts to cheer your name and you salute Sink. “Thank you, Sir.”

He gives you a nod and turns his attention back to the crowd. “Now you deserve this party.”

Chuck comes up with a pint of beer for the Colonel, to which Sink thanks him.

“Now I want you to have fun, and remember our motto. Currahee!”

“Currahee!” The entire company shouts. And with that, the celebration resumes. Chuck and Popeye approach you with a pat on the back and a hugs.

“Congrats, Corporeal.” Popeye mimics Sink with a smirk. You laugh and give him a slap on the shoulder.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up now. I’ll be outranking you suckers by Christmas, just wait and see.” The group that had formed around you laughed. You glanced around the group and your eyes locked with Liebgott. He smiled as he gave you a quick once over before taking a sip of his beer. You smiled, your cheeks flushed a pink tint.

This was going to be a long war.

3. Normandy

To say that Joe was stressed about the jumps into Normandy would be an accurate assumption. To say that Joe was stressed about not being with you on the jump into Normandy would be an extreme understatement. He knew you would be fine (only because you reassured him before going your separate ways) but he couldn’t help it.

Neither of you have spoken about that night since it happened. If someone else tried to bring it up around you two, they would get shot down immediately and were told to drop the topic. He couldn’t tell if you never brought it up because you were embarrassed it happened and just wanted to forget about it, or for whatever reason. He tried not to think about it. Despite that, he could safely say that, by this point, you were one of his closest friends he had made on this journey thus far. And maybe he had deeper feelings than just friendship, but he didn’t have to tell anybody that. Ever.

When Liebgott got to the assembly area, you were nowhere to be found. A couple people from your plane had arrived, so all he could do is wait and he hope for the best. He sat on a dirt mound with Joe Toye and a couple others as they waited for instructions.

“Relax, Lieb. She’ll get here.” Toye tried to help his friend relax.

“What? Nah, I’m fine. I’m worried about the other guys too. They’ll get here, I know.” He muttered, trying to keep a cool composure. Toye scoffed.

“Whatever you say.”

His hopes only got higher as he saw a group of Easy men walk in.

“Ah, Easy Company.” He greeted, getting to his feet. After greeting his fellow E company men, as well as this Hall character from A company, we turned to sit back down. Then, his ears perked up.

“Pretty boy!” Joe heard you cheer from down the road. To your left was Bill Guenere, grinning like a cat as he watched you practically skipped to Liebgott.

“Glad you could finally make an appearance.” Joe teased as he engulfed you in a sweaty hug.  

“You know me, always making an entrance and showing up fashionably late.” You giggled.

“Fashionably?” Joe reaches out and smudges the tar still on your face. You flinch and smack his hand away.

“Like you look so dapper yourself. What happened to your hair?” You reach out and ruffle his brown locks. He scrunches his nose and grabs your wrist and puts it back at your side.

“It’s called jumping out of plane, try it some time, sweetheart.” He sneered.

“Actually I just did, and I think I still look pretty good if I do say so myself. And I do say so.” You rebbuttled with a smirk.

“Y/N Y/L/N, cocky as ever.” He teased.

“Me? Cocky? Take a look in the mirror, you scruffy little-”

“Scruffy?! Fuck off!”

“You fuck off!”

“Love birds, please! Can we keep it moving? We have a war to fight and Nazis to kill. You’re bickering is disgustingly adorable, just get hitched already.” Bill announced, a grin plastered on his face as the fellow E company men started chuckling at the scene. He sauntered off, but not before shaking his head and muttering a “Jesus Christ”.

The two of you watched him go and take a glance at each other before you fall into a fit of giggles. He hooks his arm around her shoulders and guides her down the path.

“Got me worried there for a second. Thought a Kraut ate ya or somethin’.” Joe snickered as you gasped at him.

“A Kraut? Eat me?! Please, I’d shoot ‘em if they got within a hundred feet of me.” You groaned, a smile blooming onto your face.

Joe opened his mouth to respond when a boom echoed in the distance. Joe held you closer as he looked up to the sky. When he looked down, you were scanning the area with wide eyes. He squeezed your shoulder.

“You scared?” He asked in a lower tone, half joking, half serious. You flinched for a second, flicking your gaze to meet his. You nodded, not seeming confident.

“Liebgott, I just jumped out of an airplane and trekked eight kilometers through a warzone in the pitch dark. I fear nothing.” You stepped out of his grasp and turned to look at him. “You?”

“Never.” He replied, not really convinced by his own words. You nodded and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Good.”

And with that, you turned and walked off to join Toye and Buck.

Joe watched you go, the sound of gunshots firing off in the distance. Suddenly, it was all very real to him. The honeymoon phase was over and it was time to get down to business. There was a good chance that they weren’t going to make it out of this alive, and that scared the shit out of him. But he couldn’t focus on that. Not now. So, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and put his fears in the back of his mind.

-

Joe couldn’t stand it in the back of the truck anymore. The stench made him wanna hurl. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jesus! Get me outta here.” Joe hopped out from the back of the truck, hearing Sergeant Lipton yell something about “light discipline”, but Joe couldn’t get out of there faster.

He started walking down the street, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he passed dozens of soldiers. As he walked, he saw a silhouette leaning against a stone wall standing on the side of the road ahead. Without much thought, he knew it was you. As he approached you, he saw you picking at her nails, probably trying to get the dirt out from under them. Your helmet was by your feet, giving Joe a rare look at your hair shining in the moonlight.

“Evening, Miss.” Joe greeted, making your head turn to see him. Even in the dark, he saw the small smile appear on your face.

“Evening to you too, Mister.” You greeted as you adjusted your stance so you were standing a little taller, but still leaning against the wall.

“Want some company? You looked a little lonesome.” Joe stood in front of you now. You shrugged, glancing down at your shoes.

“Just in my thoughts is all.” That was the only thing you could muster. After all, it had been a long ass day.

“Penny for ‘em?” Joe moved to lean against the wall with you. You didn’t really say anything at first, you just kinda stared into space, but Joe nudged you with his elbow. “Oh c’mon, don’t go all shy on me now. It’s just me, you can talk to me. I’m your Pretty Boy, remember?” Joe teased, making you smile. God, he loved that smile.

“Joe Liebgott, what would I do without you?” You sighed.

“Enlighten me. What would you do? My curiosity is piqued.” Joe smirked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“I’d probably be bored out of my mind.” You confessed, turning to look up at him. “You’ve kept me smiling through the whole time I’ve known you. Don’t get me wrong, I love Luz, he’s a crack up, but you’ve kept me on my toes.”

He creased his eyebrows.

“Corporeal, have you been drinking?” Joe asked, not really expecting such a genuine answer. You shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“Just take the compliment, Liebgott.” You groaned. He chuckled and nodded.

Just then, a car rumbled by, its headlights shining towards them as it drove by. With the passing flash of light, Joe noticed a cut on your right cheek.

“Woah, what happened?” Joe cupped your cheek and ran his thumb lightly over the wound.

“What? The scratch? It’s nothing.” You reached up to grab his wrist and pull it away, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Has Gene looked at it yet?”

“Lieb-”

“How’d you get that?”

“Lieb, really I’m fine-”

“It looks like it’s deep, you might need stitches. Here, I’ll take you to go see Doc-”

“Joe!” You grabbed his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “I’m fine. I already went to go see Doc, he said I was fine. It was just a graze from some shrapnel earlier today-”

“When the hell did you get hit with fucking shrapnel, Y/N?!” Joe shouted, the vain starting to pop out on his temple.

“I don’t fucking know, Lieb! I was trying to survive while I was being shot at by a bunch of Krauts! Shit happens.” Y/N snarled back. “And to be completely honest, it coulda been a whole lot fucking worse. This litte papercut compared to what happend to some of the guys today, so if you could stop yelling that would be fan-fucking-tastic.”

The two of you just sized each other up for a moment before Joe slouched against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry…you’re right.” He muttered, sounding exhausted.

“It’s alright,” You nod, looking straight ahead at the passing soldiers. “Never thought you cared so much…”

Joe scoffed at your words, shaking his head.

“‘Course I fuckin’ care.” Joe pulled you into him, wrapping his long arms around you, resting his chin on your head and engulfing you in a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your left cheek against his chest. He slowly started to pet your hair as you tighten your grip around his middle. “Maybe I care a little too much sometimes.” He muttered, not really meaning for you to hear. But of course you did.

You look up at him, a smile playing on your lips. “I care about you too, Joe.”

God dammit he couldn’t take it.

“Y/N, I gotta ask ya somethin’-”

“Easy Company! Get your gear, we’re moving out!” He heard an officer call out over the crowd. You groaned, burying your face in Joe’s chest.

“I gotta go grab my stuff, I’ll catch up with you?” You smiled sympathetically at Joe, who nodded.

“Yeah, sure. See ya.” Joe waved and watched you jog off to God knows where. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to scream. Instead, he banged his fist against the stone wall a little too hard.

“Fuck!” He cringed, shaking the pain out of his hand.

He was in deep shit.

4. Bastogne

It’s cold. So fucking cold that Joe thought his balls would freeze and fall off. Everyone in Easy was miserable, but after Colonel Sink’s visit, everyone seemed to be in semi lighter spirits. Joe surveyed the crowd, looking for his best friend, but he couldn’t see her.

“Hey Shift?” Joe turned to Shifty.

“Yeah, Joe?” Shifty looked over at Joe, tightly bundled from head to toe.

“You’ve seen Y/N?” Joe asked, taking another glance around. “Haven’t seen her since this morning.”

“Have you checked her foxhole?” Shifty queried.

“Of course I have.” Joe groaned, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It was the first place I looked.”

“Mess hall tent?” Shifty tried again.

“Tried there.”

“Is she on patrol?”

“No, checked with Lip about that a bit ago.”

After a pause, Shifty pointed through the trees with a gloved hand.

“Is she sitting on that log down that way?”

Joe turned around to see your from sitting on a log with your back to them. Joe nodded.

“Thanks Shift.” And without waiting for a response, Joe started trudging through the snow.

A lot has happened since Normandy. With time, you both got closer, if that was even possible. With that, you both bickered a lot. Replacements would come in and assume the two of you were a married couple that enlisted together. The funny thing was when they asked, the NCOs didn’t tell them otherwise.

You had opened up to him about life back home, too. You told him everything from you first pet’s name to your first heartbreak. You recounted painfully awkward Thanksgiving dinners the one time your brothers put Brian’s pet frog in your bed as a prank and how you jumped so high, you could have hit the ceiling. He enjoyed hearing about your life back home, but he thinks you’re doing it more for yourself rather than just for the sake of telling stories. It was one of the only ways it could keep you from flying off the rails.

Joe finally made his way over to you and plopped himself down on the log next to you.

“Y/N, where were ya? Sink just dropped by for a lovely visit, did ya hear him? Nuts!” Joe laughed, and bumped your shoulder.

When he looked over at you, you weren’t laughing. You weren’t even looking at him. Your gaze was fixed straight ahead, unblinking and blank. Your knees were brought up to your chin as you shivered in the cold.

“Sweetheart, you good?” Joe softened his tone, feeling the heavy silence in the air. It was almost suffocating when her expression remained the same. He moved to kneel in front of you and put his hands on top of your knees. “Y/N? What’s the matter, talk to me.”

You finally looked at him, eyes turning glassy. You swallowed thickly as you grabbed the opened envelope sitting by you on the log. You held it up and took a shaky breath.

“Letter from my mom.” Your voice cracked as you spoke and looked at the neat cursive handwriting on the front. Joe saw your lip began to quaver as you took a quick inhale. “My brother’s dead.” You handed Joe the envelope with a shaky hand.

“Jesus…” Joe took the envelope from you and examined it with darting eyes.

“He was in Micronesia somewhere. Peleliu or some shit like that…” You wiped a stray tear from your cheek and looked at your hands in your lap. “Killed in action.”

“Y/N I- fuck…I’m so sorry-”

“Merry fucking Chrismas, right?” You whispered. Then, you broke down. You head fell into your hands as you started to sob. Joe jumped up and held you.

“Shhh…hey you’re okay…” Joe muttered into your hair, rocking you back and forth as you cried into his coat. He felt your hands grip at his jacket in tight fists, clinging to him. He didn’t really know what to do, he’s never seen you cry before. Not even when you rolled your ankle while running Currahee in Toccoa and you still made it back down the hill. You never cried.

After a couple of minutes, you calmed down and you were reduced to whimpers. Joe pulled away and wiped his thumbs across your wet cheeks. Your scratch from Normandy and had scarred over now.

You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his, you eyes screwed shut.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize. Never fuckin’ say sorry for something like that.” Joe snapped back sternly. You nodded.

“Okay.”

You opened your eyes to look at Joe staring back at you with a gentle intensity. His hands still cupped your cheeks and held you close. Joe glanced at your lips before licking his dry ones. Despite being chapped and swollen from crying, you still looked just as beautiful that night you were all dressed up for the party. And he wanted to kiss you even more now than he did then.

“Y/L/N, you okay?” Malarkey had just happen to walk by the scene in front of him, his can of food in hand. You pulled your head from Lieb’s hands, sighing. Joe’s hands drop to his lap with a loud smack.

“Yeah, fine.” You smiled tightly, turning to Malarky.

“You sure? You don’t look too good. Maybe go and grab some hot chow?-”

“On it, Malark.” You cut him off, followed by a curt nod. Malarkey turned his hands up in surrender and walked off to join Muck and Penkala.

You grab the letter off the snowy ground and stuff it in your pocket.

“I’m goin’ for a walk, I’ll catch ya later, Lieb.” You muttered quickly before standing.

“I’ll go with you-”

“No that’s fine, Joe. Go grab some lunch, I’ll be back.” Just like that, you zipped off into the fog without another word or a glance back.

Later that night, he walked past your foxhole on the way back from taking a piss. And there you were, wrapped up in a blanket, shivering, with a cigarette hanging from your mouth.

“Thought you didn’t smoke.” He whispered, not wishing to startle you or disturb other foxholes. You look up at him from your hole and shrugged as you took the cigarette from your lips and blew out a stream of smoke.

“I don’t.” You said simply. Joe nodded.

“You gonna be okay?”

“…I will be.” You assured him.

Suddenly BOOM! German artillery started bursting in the sky. Joe jumped into your foxhole with you as you both tried to shield yourself from any shrapnel. The blasts were short lived and soon they were given the all clear. Joe looks over at you as he moves to get to his feet.

“Thanks for your hospitality.” He said with a little laugh. “I guess I’ll see you-”

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me. Please.” Your voice was so soft and meek, it surprised Joe. Your eyes were pleading. “Just for the night.”

“Yeah, of course.” Joe nodded, laying back down on the dirt.

“Thank you.” You whispered before you cuddled into Joe’s chest.

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to him. He fell asleep almost instantaneously.

However, when he woke up in the morning, you were gone.

5. The Truck Ride

You didn’t talk to Joe a lot after that. You really didn’t talk to anybody after that. After you got news of your brother, you really didn’t want to talk to anybody. With Joe, you wanted to talk to him, but you were afraid to because after that night, you were so afraid because you might have been falling for the guy. So, you kept your distance the rest of your time in Bastogne, and barely spared him a glance while Easy was up in Haguenau. He really could have used your company then, Webster was being a real pain in the ass. You finally started talking to him again in the back of the trucks on your way to Bavaria.

“Can I have one of those?” You croaked as Lieb lit a cigarette.

“So she speaks? You finally talkin’ to me now?” Joe sneered with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, smoke billowing from his lips.

“Joe-”

“You barely spoken a word to me since Christmas and, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s April now and the first thing you say to me is you ask me for a cigarette?”

“It’s a start, isn’t it?” You mutter, not breaking eye contact with the seething eyes piercing back at you. “Look I’m sorry, I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“The nerve on you-”

“Quit soundin’ like my mother, Joe. My brother died and suddenly you get all butt hurt when I needed some goddamn space for two fucking seconds. I apologized, now can I or can I not have a cigarette?”

Joe looked at you for a moment. Your eyes had lost some luster he remembers you having a long time ago. Your eyes are sunken like you haven’t slept since Normandy. Even your hair had lost the brightness in color. He sighed as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

“I don’t know, can you?” He says with the slightest hint of a smile creeping onto his face. He hands you the cigarette. You take it and put it in your mouth and lean forward, looking expectantly at Joe. “Oh, you want me to light it for you too, your majesty?”

“Mhmm.” You hum with a nod of your head and a roll of Joe’s eyes as he pulls out his Zippo.

“I have to do everything in this fucking relationship-”

“Shut up.”  You laugh as you pull the lit cigarette from your mouth and blow smoke in his face. He smirked at you, waving a hand in front of his face.

“You know, it’s not very polite to blow smoke in someone’s face. You’re being a bit of an ass.”

You smiled and shook your head in disbelief. “Deja vu.”

“Tell me about it.” Joe smiled back.

After a moment of silence, David decided to pipe up.

“What about you, Y/N?” Webster asked.

“What about me?”

“What are you gonna do when you get home?” Webster took a bite his food as he awaited for your answer. You ran a hand through your hair as it flowed in the breeze.

“Home? Jeez, I don’t know. Hug my family?” You laughed.

“We’re all gonna do that. I mean life stuff. Got any plans?”

“Well,” you paused, thinking about it for a second. You haven’t given it much thought lately. “I’d start off by getting a job. Maybe waitressing or something like that, that’s what I did before the war. Then,” you paused, glancing up at Joe, who was already staring at you with some kind of look in his eyes. You couldn’t look away.

“Then I’d probably find someone to settle down with. Have a kid or two, and try to have a normal fucking life that is far away from this shithole. Try and be happy.” You finished but taking a drag.

“That’s a good goal.”

“Gee, thanks Web.” You muttered sarcastically.

“That sounds real nice.” Joe said, a soft smile appearing on his lips. You nodded.

“Sure does.”

-

After making a stop, the seating got switched up. Now you were sitting next to Joe, his arm around you as you fell asleep on his shoulder. Joe looked down at you, warmth spreading in his chest for the first time in a long time. You were back, and you looked so peaceful.

“Jesus, Lieb, just kiss her already.” Web laughed across from Joe.

“You’re lookin’ at her with the biggest heart eyes I’ve ever seen.” Luz chuckled. “Are you ever gonna tell her how you feel?”

“Will you both shut up?!” Joe spoke between his teeth. “She could wake up and hear you knuckleheads.”

“Lieb, she’s knocked out cold.” Perconte observed from down the row.

“Can you blame her??” Joe asked, his voice suddenly sorrowful. The boys glanced at you. They had to admit, they haven’t seen you actually sleep since you found out about Stan.

The car goes over a rather large bump in the road, waking you up with a start.

“Morning, Sunshine! How was your nap?” Luz drawled throwing his baseball in the air. You yawned and lay back against Joe.

“Fine. I had a dream about you, Pretty Boy.” You muttered, closing your eyes again.

“Oh did you now?!” Luz exclaimed, throwing Joe a knowing look and smirk.

“Pray tell.” Web piped in.

“Well,” You put your chin on Joe’s shoulder and turned to face him. “You, sir,” you poked his cheek. “Were going on and on and on about something beyond boring when I up and punched you square in the jaw. And even in my dreams, you don’t change a bit, because even after I hit you, you would not shut the hell up!”

This made the entire car laugh, even Joe. When he turned his head to you, he bumped his nose with yours.

“Sorry.” He murmured, pulling his head back a little. You shrugged.

“It’s okay.” and in a brave moment, you leaned forward and rubbed the tip of your nose to his in an eskimo kiss. “G’night.” and with that, you fell against his shoulder and started to snore. Everyone in the car was staring at him with wide eyes and hanging mouths. Joe could only shrug.

-

Easy Company had decided to play a company baseball game. It was a warm day, partially cloudy. It was perfect.

“I wanna play!” You squealed. Buck arched a brow at you.

“You know how?”

You scoffed and grabbed a glove out of the box next to the batting cage. “Buck, I grew up the middle child of two boys. Yes, I know how to play.”

“Alright, play ball then, I guess.” He laughed, his chest rumbling.

After playing for a few hours, hitting a line drive and throwing a couple guys out, they jokingly declared you Easy Company’s Rookie of the Year. The peace was disturbed by Speirs.

“Easy Company! School circle!”

As the company gathered around Major Winters, Liebgott pulled you under his arm and you wrapped an arm around his middle.

“You never told me you played ball so well.” He said barely above a whisper. You snickered and leaned up to whisper in his ear.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Liebgott.”

“Touché.”  

“Listen up!” Winters announced, glancing at the two of you with a small smile. “We’ve got some news. This morning, President Truman received the unconditional surrender from the Japanese. The war is over.”

You felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs. For a couple moments no one moved, probably afraid that if they did, they would wake up from this crazy dream we all must be having. You laughed a little and looked up at Joe. He smiled and nodded.

“We did it.” He grinned.

“Yeah we did!” You responded. Soon, the men started to disperse. You however, jumped into Joe’s arms and wrapped your legs around his torso as he held you up.

“We made it!” You squealed. Joe laughed and put you down.

“I knew we would.”

Before he could say anything else, you grabbed his face and smashed your lips onto his. He responded immediately by cradling the back of your head and holding you as close as possible. You could hear cheering from the men around you.

“Fuckin’ finally!”

“It’s about time.”

“We’ve only waited three damn’ years for that to happen.”

“I don’t know if I’m more relieved that the war is over or that their finally sucking faces.”

“Yes! Hey Bull, you owe me thirty bucks!”

When you broke apart, Joe was panting with the biggest smile you have ever seen on his face.

“Come back home to San Francisco with me? We could make that dream of yours happen.”

“The one where I punch you in the face?” Your face scrunched up in confusion.

“No, dufus,” he laughed as he cupped your cheeks. “Settle down, fall in love, get hitched.” He kissed the tip of your nose.

“Well I’m already in love with you, so you can check that off your list.” You grinned.

“God, I love you Y/N. Never leave my side.”

“I don’t plan on it. C’mon, let’s get home.”

Taglist: 

@gottapenny

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

C'est La Vie

Summary: “Riding around with the car top down and the radio on. Nobody looked any finer or was more of a hit at the Parkway Diner. We never knew we could want more than that out of life. Surely Richie and Eddie would always know how to survive…” Glimpses into Richie & Eddie’s lives. 

Summary is lyrics adapted from: ‘Scenes from an Italian Restaurant’ ~ Billy Joel. Title from ‘C’est La Vie’ by Bob Seger…

Words:  18,691

Ship: Reddie 

{October, Senior Year}

School was in session. Leaves were falling from the trees, Freshman were trying to get high under the bleachers and the air was beginning to crisp like maple fucking bacon…Richie was having the time of his life. He sniffled because of course, he was already getting his yearly cold…at the start of October.

“The bleachers are freezing my ass, Eds.” He whined loudly but his little partner only chuckled, still scribbling his pen across the notebooks in his lap. 

A breeze passed over them and carried a few pages of Skippy Larson’s chemistry homework across the field just in front of them. The kid darted after them with impressive speed but-‘oh, too much confidence on the catching skills. He misses by a long-shot and falls face first onto the grass!’ 

Richie chuckled and habitually scooped Eddie’s free-hand up to cradle it into his lap. “In a few short months…we won’t even have to worry about…-” He paused to wave his hands around and audibly scoff “-AP Lit homework and shit.” He flicked Eddie’s pen. “Can you believe that, man?” 

Eddie laid his pen down and decided to give his partner the full attention Richie so obviously wanted and in Eddie’s opinion…deserved. “No. I really don’t wanna think about it either, Rich.” 

His sniffles were much cuter than any human beings should be. His nose scrunched up and his eyes got all squinty. Eddie didn’t care much for cold season but it drove Richie crazy. 

“Why not? I’m so fucking excited!” 

“Rich, I’m way too fucking nervous to talk about it. Probably way more nervous than you are excited.” He scoffed, already beginning to shove his books into his backpack.

“Really? Cause I’m so excited that I can hardly breathe!” He smacked Eddie’s hand gently.

With humor suddenly just as dry as Richie’s toast had been that morning, Eddie slowly and obnoxiously reached into his bag for the inhaler and shot himself up to space. His lips were still recovering from the lovely ‘O’ shape he’d had to make but he managed a wide smirk when his chin tilted back down. 

“Funny, babe.” Richie rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but giggle a bit. His eyes drifted to the homework tornado again as a sigh built up in his throat. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t going to miss high school. Because in some ways, he would. Lots of great things happened either in that building or because of it. 

Richie got to film the best student movie in the history of TV Pro which turned out to be collected found footage of the Losers in their natural habitat. Bill managed to write one killer story after another and really started pursuing his passion. Ben and Bev had their first kiss in Mr. Walker’s Algebra class and made history. The day Stan made the fucking baseball team had been one of Richie’s favorite freakin’ days of all time. And Mike organizing a completely made-up 'cinema’ club just to get the library all to themselves with the coolest teacher ever was a close second. 

But the best thing that ever happened within those school walls was during the start of Freshman Year when Richie finally got the guts to ask Eddie out properly. 

They’d basically been dating since they were kids. Hell, their first kiss was in a blanket fort in Bill’s basement when they were like nine. Eddie didn’t like to count that but Richie held it close to his heart because it was funny as shit. 

Sixth grade had been a big year. Richie would carry Eddie’s books home for him and would stick by him even when the path became out of his way. They took the path that would lead them past the Neibolt Street Church so Eddie could hear a bit of that music he liked so much. 

But it wasn’t until Freshman year when the true magic happened. The fact that Eddie agreed to the proposed date nearly killed Richie on the spot that day.

Richie smiled to himself before glancing at his partner who was now following the wind of paper from Skippy Larson too. His eyes were speeding fast to follow every moment of the twirling disaster. 

They’d gone to that drive-in root-beer place that Richie had always been dying to try. It was across the street from the now abandoned 7/11 that used to be a CVS where no one had ever shopped. He’d ordered a hot-dog and Root-beer Float that became hard to keep down when all his nerves started shaking him. He remembered being scared that he was going to waste the date just worrying he might blow chunks onto the bright orange vinyl chair. “Honestly Eddie, why did you give me a second date? I mean that first one was so…I mean, you watched me dip my hot-dog into my Root-beer Float.” Richie chuckled, legs jittering up and down. 

Eddie quirked his brow and paused. “Yeah and you watched me nearly fight that worker for dropping that order of fries and trying to shove them back on the tray before anyone noticed.” 

“Yeah but that was hot.” Richie smirked

“Well, maybe I thought the hot-dog thing was hot…” Eddie shoved some of his papers away and finally gave his boyfriend full attention. 

“I’m sure the puke was hot when you slipped on my chunks in the parking lot, ‘member?” Richie smirked and Eddie gagged at the memory. 

“Never bring that up again, asshole.” 

The two of them playfully smacked each-other around for a couple minutes before a peaceful silence fell over again. From his place above, Richie saw Skippy pick up his remaining papers and high-tail it outta the football field before any players decided practice started early. The question from before still bounced in Richie’s mind like those boxes never quite hitting the corner in those DVD wait screens. ‘Honestly Eddie, why did you give me a second date?’

“What’s your mom making for dinner?” Eddie laid his chin on his palm and smiled in that soft, genuine way that poked at Richie’s heart. In some ways, he felt they were like an old married couple. And he wasn’t using that term to excuse any nasty bickering like some other high-school phase couples. No. 

It was just…-He and Eddie knew each other. They were so familiar and extremely comfortable with everything they did. “Mmmmm, Chicken Parmesan.” 

They smiled at each other, just thinking about the calm rest of the day ahead of them. 

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie followed Richie inside the Tozier household, taking his shoes off at the door and setting them next to the others as Richie breezed past it, forgetting like usual. Eddie grinned to himself, shaking his head. The home was nothing special, sort of small but fleshed out. Photos on the wall in frames that were carefully thought out as they were purchased at some home goods store. It still put a smile on Eddie’s face to see that he was featured in some of those pictures.

He briefly passed by his favorite that was in the blue frame, the one that was chipped in the corner from when Richie dropped it. It was taken sometime during last Christmas, Richie and himself were having some sort of conversation that must’ve been highly amusing, what is was about Eddie doesn’t remember, but they’re laughing hard enough that Richie is falling forward onto his shoulder, The Tozier parents were actually looking at the camera with grins. Eddie smiled to himself as he glanced at it.

Mrs. Tozier  was pouring a few drinks as they entered the kitchen, a warm grin on her face.

“Hello boys.” She smiled sweetly and handed them each a glass of water as she slid a cup of coffee to Mr. Tozier as he came in the room with a smile.

“How’s my favorite son?” He asked in that dad tone of voice that Eddie had only come accustomed to through him.

Richie swallowed a large slurp of the water and set it back on the table, the sweat dripping onto his hand. “I’m your only son…” He tilted his head with a confused but amused expression.

Wentworth blew down into the mug, the steam rising and spreading. “I was talking to Eddie.” He looked up just in time to catch Richie’s gasp of offense. He chuckled, picking up his mug and patting Eddie on the back as he passed him. “Which reminds me Eddie, I’m working on the garage again, can I count on your help-?”

“While I am flattered that you complimented me to butter me up before you asked but-” Eddie smiled, hand over his chest. “I can’t.”

“Ed’s and I are have a special date night tonight, pops.” Richie slapped Eddie’s back gently and stirred his water glass like it was a proper drink. 

“Oooh, yeah.” Wentworth shared a small grin with his son and took down some more of his steaming hot drink. “You two kids have a great time. I’ll be all by my lonesome down there and I’ll probably break that damn car…” He pointed towards the garage door with exaggerated glum. “Unless one, Mrs. Tozier would come visit me, later?” He bumped Maggie’s elbow and she chuckled. 

“I’ll bring you some dinner later. Make sure you take the laundry basket up to my room before you go off.” Maggie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before he left that Richie mimicked on Eddie for chucks. It always made his mother giggle, anyway. 

“Ok, so Chicken Parmesan for dinner….” Maggie gestured to the oven and smiled. “I’ll let you know when it’s done but for now…” She paused and picked up a dirty old box from the floor behind the counter. “I have some Halloween Decorations, would you boys help an ol’ mother out?” 

“Sure thing, Mrs. Tozier!” Eddie stood on the tips of his toes to peek inside while Richie took the ghost string lights out and threw them around his neck like a scarf. With a salute, Richie took off with the box and Eddie darted after him. 

                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Mrs. Tozier, Maggie, rooted her hands through the sock draw and occasionally pulled out a few pairs and folded them together. Her nails caught on the thread every few minutes, she’d pull and pull until the thin string would just snap. But on the eighth time she grew a little bit restless and snapped the string but quickly shut the drawer afterwards. “Wentworth?”

She turned to her husband, who was still lazing around with his coffee and blowing on it as if it was still hot. She gave him a small smile and walked towards him, putting her hand on his back. He looked up at her, waiting for her to speak what was on her mind. “Do you think-” She paused for a second before shaking her head. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

Wentworth smiled up at his wife and chuckled, swallowing his first tedious sip of coffee. “I say a lot of stupid things, I won’t mind.”

Maggie gave him a look a lot of wives give their husbands. One of amusement and familiarity. “Well, I was just wondering…” She began again, going back over to the drawers to root around for something to wear to work the next day. “Do you think the boys are starting to get serious?” She asked, a little unsure of herself.

Wentworth cocked his head to the side and looked lost. “Like how?” He asked, swirling his coffee in his hand. Maggie sighed and leaned back on the drawers behind her. Clasping her hands together, she spoke again.

“I don’t know really.” She frowned and folded an old t-shirt from Richie’s younger days…her eyes got a sad little glaze. “They seem….-they remind me of us in our good ol’ days, huh? When we were about to leave home, so in love…” There was a small hole in the shoulder of the yellow dinosaur shirt. 

Her husband turned the soap opera off the box TV and crawled closer to where she stood at the edge of the bed, taking her hands. “Richie’s getting older, honey-” 

Maggie surprised the both of them by bursting out with a small sob. In embarrassment, she stole a hand back to cover her mouth. “I feel like every-time I-” She broke again and Wentworth rubbed her skin softly. 

She collected herself, tilting her chin to the ceiling fan and letting the loose tears fall. “I know that…when we planned this, I had the idea of a girl, you know?” 

Wentworth nodded. That was a topic they never truly discussed but for a long while, they were both well aware of in those early days. 

“But…He’s my boy. That kid…” She looked towards the door. “He’s what I had been waiting for and I didn’t even realize it. And now it feels like our time together is winding down with his high-school days close to over and Wentworth, I’m not ready to let him go.” Her lips trembled. 

He gently shook her arms and rubbed up and down her skin until she grinned through the tears. “He’s still a teenager, sweet-heart. We got time left yet, huh?” He laughed which she returned. “Side-note, we are definitely still in our good ol’ days. As long as I’m with you.” 

He stood up, putting his coffee on the old dried up water ring mark on the dresser. Maggie smiled at the back of his head, her hand on her heart as she sighed with pleasure before she stood to walk him to the garage.

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richie still had the ghosts tied around his neck except now they were plugged into the wall behind him and slightly burning his neck. Eddie was digging through the box and pulling out all kinds of Halloween decor that Richie admired as a personal collection of his childhood…their childhood even. Eddie had just as much a right to claim memories to this shit as Richie. The other losers as well with how much time they spent at his home.

“How come people don’t send out Halloween cards…Y’know like Christmas Cards?” Richie pursed his lips and flipped the switch on an old light up haunted house. 

Eddie shrugged. “People don’t really do Christmas cards anymore either…” He drifted off in thought. “We should though. It’d be really fucking idiotic.” He giggled and Richie smiled. 

The two of them openly discussed their future together many times. It was just always part of their relationship and had never phased them. Maybe some thought of that as childish considering they were still high-schoolers but…it never seemed that way to them. 

“Yeah. We’ll send it to all five of our friends.” Richie chuckled. 

Eddie handed over some stuffed pumpkins and let his hands rub down his jeans as he sighed. “I can’t wait to annoy you in our own house one day.” He pinched Richie’s arm and handed over the hand-made paper Bat. 

His boyfriends heart melted at that, his eyes absolutely worshiping the sight of Eddie. “Shit, Ed’s. Me too.”

Usually there’d be more said between them in moments like this. Maybe a discussion about what their house would end up looking like. But this time they just reached out for each others hands and gently swung them a little with soft smiles. “One of us has to learn to cook.” 

“God, yes.” Richie nodded. “I love it but I can’t live off McDonald’s for long. Maybe my mom can teach me some shit. I can’t imagine it’s too hard.” He shrugged, letting their hands fall apart again to get rid of his ghost necklace. Their was a tiny burn mark on the side of his neck that made Eddie chuckle. Richie slapped the spot he was staring at with mock insecurity and a dazzling smirk. 

The boy opened his mouth only to be interrupted his mother who came strolling in with a dish towel over her shoulder. Richie let his hand fall from his neck without thinking what that spot might suggest with Eddie sitting so close to him. Maggie raised a brow-

“It’s not what you think, Mrs. Tozier. Richie just burned his neck on the ghosts.” Eddie laughed and leaned over to hold the string-lights up again.

“Yeah, I can buy that.” Maggie rolled her eyes and laughed. “Can I borrow you for a minute, Rich?” 

Richie nodded, hopping up and exaggerating a little spill from tripping on Eddie’s legs. He ruffled a hand through Eddie’s hair and followed after his mother. 

Maggie messed with some dishes as she waited for her son to trail in and hoped her eyes weren’t still red. But as little Richie (called little Richard affectionately by his father for years) stopped in front of her, she found herself getting choked up again which was just silly. “You alright ma’? You seem like you might pass out or something.” He giggled and took a grape from the bowl on the counter to stuff into his mouth. 

“Would you two be ok if your father and I went out tonight?-”

“Hot date?” He laughed and Maggie felt her heart tug. 

“Yeah, sure.” She shook her head. “Hot date. Anyway, foods in the oven and should be done soon enough.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb against her nose. “You can make cookies for dessert, you know the number to call if you should accidentally start the house ablaze, do you love your father more than me? And we’ll be gone a few hours.” Maggie rushed her speaking and cringed. She was about to escape the room when Richie realized what she’d snuck in there. 

“Wow, you pulled a real Richie Tozier with that ramble, ma. You know I’m the champion at those.” He started with an awkward laugh before raising his brows. “But um, you don’t really think that..do you?” 

Maggie felt ashamed for bleeding this insecurity on her son but she sighed. “No. It’s just-…sometimes I worry that our relationship is a little rocky sometimes. I shouldn’t have…” She gestured to the garage door where her husband was and then to the living room where Eddie sat. “Bad timing.” She laughed. 

“Ma…..” Richie had never been known to handle serious things very well was panicking a little. “That’s not-…”

“I just let so much precious time go by…not really understanding you quite like your dad does. I’m sure you must have felt it and I hate to think about it.” Maggie frowned, running the towel through her fingers. 

Richie looked to the floor and rolled his lips together which was confirmation enough. 

“Never-mind this, Rich. Go on back, ok?” Maggie attempted to laugh the conversation off like any good ol’ Tozier knew how. “We should be back later tonight.” With that, she pressed a kiss to his temple and sent him back to the living room. 

Richie walked off with a dazed expression and tried to shake his mothers words but found them to be burying deep into his mind anyway. 

His eyes met Eddie’s. His boyfriend was just sitting on the old plaid couch, the one where tiny-tot Richie had once fallen from and knocked his front teeth out, and a rush of love went through his body at once. It didn’t cover up the memory of that conversation but it relieved Richie of the guilty feeling some. 

So he did what any sane person in love would do, throw his entire body atop Eddie’s. One of them let out a shocked sigh and their voices were too molded together to pin it. “Get off me, asshole!” 

Eddie folded his body in such a way that it knocked Richie off him and onto the carpet below the plush couch. He peeked at him from the edge and giggled. 

Richie ended up laying there for quite some time after his parents left, playing with Eddie’s legs as they hung over him and occasionally rubbing the soft skin of his ankles. Though he’d realized almost as soon as he started that it was sort of a trap. Every-time he’d take his hand away, Eddie would wiggle his feet again just urging Richie to start on again. And if he refused, he’d make that soft little whine. How could he say no to that? 

It lead him to memories of being that tiny-tot version of himself again. On movie nights when Richie would glance through the corner of his eye, away from the show of ‘Aladdin’ to his parents to make sure they were watching. Maggie Tozier’s feet would always be shoved into his old man’s lap and she’d be insisting that he rub them. Though he’d complain, Wentworth always did it. 

Richie rubbed another circle against Eddie’s skin and leaned his head against his jean covered leg. When his partners hand came down to run his fingers through his hair, Richie was in such bliss that he missed the first ten beeps of the oven timer. 

“Rich, one of us has to get the dinner.” 

“Set up the dishes?” Richie tilted his chin up, getting a bit of a static shock from Eddie’s jeans. The boy nodded and they went off. 

This was a familiar routine that they had come to know for some time now. Since the beginning of the romantic side of their relationship, Eddie came over for dinner often. The Tozier’s were happy to have the company. 

Richie plated their feast once the table was set and they took their favorite chairs across from each other. It was during these little dinners that Richie finally understood the no TV at the dinner table rule. There was no need for a distraction. 

“How did none of your mothers cooking talent bleed into you growing up?” Eddie hummed happily as he slid his fork out from his lips. 

“You’ve basically known me my whole life, Eds. You know I don’t have the attention span to learn.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and Richie poked his hand with the back-side of his silverware. “How are things with my dads car?” 

Eddie hummed again. He’d taken up fixing up the thing with Mr. Tozier some weeks ago as a little hobby. He’d always had a fondness for fixing shit up like that and Wentworth had been thrilled to have a good hand around to help him because after all, Richie was not the best at that. “Good. I mean, I’m not car-genius but…I think we’re getting somewhere. Your dad seems excited but then again…he’s a lot like you.” Eddie giggled.

“What does that mean, Kaspbrak?” Richie reached over to pinch at him. 

“Just that he’s excitable-” 

“It’s a cuter look for me, right?” Richie teased and Eddie smacked his hands away. They went at it for a solid five minutes before settling back into their dinners. 

Silence fell over them, all except the sounds of their dishes. “Hey, Ed’s?” 

The boy glanced up, some strands of hair falling over his eyes as he hovered his fork just under his chin. A stray scent of the purple glue they used in their shared second grade class flew past Richie’s nose as their eyes met. “What’s say you & me go on a little road-trip right after graduation? Like the minute it’s done?” 

“Little early to plan that. Just you and me? What about-?” 

“I’d love to go on a big Losers Club trip but I have this idea…for just the two of us, right? Could be cool.” He waved is fork around and it kept catching the orange light of the hanging lamp above them. 

“What kind of idea?” 

“Well…hold on to your seat, baby. This might be too big of a kicker.” Richie giggled but it was soaked with nerves. Eddie rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated play of holding onto the chair with a wide smirk. They giggled together. “I was thinking that you and I could drive up to Castle Rock-”

“Ahhh the spot of romance.” Eddie let go of his chair to take another bite of chicken. 

“There’s some cute tourist-y trap shops…” Richie started and he’d kinda been hoping for another interruption but Eddie just kept on looking at him. “But there’s also a cute little Chapel…?” 

There was a small clink as Eddie dropped his fork onto his plate. 

“Ed’s, baby. You’re…” He paused when his stomach turned painfully with nerves. He glanced down at the food. “You’re the guy I gotta be spending the rest of my life with. I can’t imagine a future without you in it and I think that’s reason enough to cut to the chase and get hitched sooner rather than later.“

Richie was expecting one of his partners famous ‘fast talking rambles’ but Eddie stayed silent and instead picked at the chicken on his rose colored plate. 

“I mean the backseat of my car is no honeymoon suite but I’m sure it’ll be nice to us, you know? After all, we’ll still be running on our Wedding High.” Richie laughed but it was oh so painful to get out when Eddie wasn’t even humoring him. “Sorry. Fuck. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a stupid thing to pitch-”

“Let’s do it.” 

Richie hiccuped and choked on the forkful of food he’d just shoved in his mouth to keep quite. “What-?”

“I said, let’s do it asshole. I wanna marry you.” Eddie smiled, wide and genuine. Richie would never openly pursue this dream if it were anything but. He knew all of Eddie’s smiles and this one…oh it was his favorite. 

“Holy fuck.” Richie let out a long breath and giggled. “Shit, I-…Ed’s-” The boy couldn’t find the right words so he just shoved his way off his chair and rushed to his boy. 

Before Eddie could fully process it, Richie lifted him into his arms and he had to wrap his legs around his waist to keep balanced. “Everyone’s gonna say we’re idiots, you know?” Richie mumbled into his neck. 

“I don’t care.” Eddie decided. Because for once in his life, he was 100% sure that this was something he wanted. He’d fight for it with no problem if it meant keeping the Loser in his life forever. He’d fight for it just like he’d always fought for his friends. “We don’t have to tell anyone.”

Richie nodded. “Just between us. Our little secret.” 

They agreed to that knowing it would truly be a hard task. They told their fellow Losers everything and how could they not share something like this? Something so amazing? But they knew it had to stay a secret until the actual day was done. 

A laugh bubbled in his throat and a comment escaped his lips without flickering thought. “I’m so glad I met you, Richie.” 

“Me too.” Richie’s voice was a little too soft to not be emotional so Eddie kissed his hair. “If I call you tomorrow and ask…are we still gonna be engaged?”

Eddie pulled his chin back and nuzzled his nose into Richie’s curls. “We’re still gonna be engaged, Rich. All up until Gradation, like ya said.” He could feel the blush dusting his cheeks and the sense of pure joy was just too intoxicating. 

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{December, Senior Year}

Richie and Eddie didn’t really bring up their engagement again until the fall leaves started turning to winter snow. 

Richie shut his front door behind him as he stepped outside, glancing down at his shoes as they walked down his broken concrete steps. He hopped down the last stair, the one with the chip that was just waiting to become an avalanche of rock. He pulled aimlessly at his jacket when he felt the sudden jolt of the wind being knocked out of him and legs wrapping around his waist. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

"Ed’s, you can’t just jump on a guys back without warning.” Richie tried to glance up, as best he could as Eddie shifted around and looped his arms around his neck.

“As the shorter friend, I reserve the right to get piggy back rides whenever I want.” He heard Eddie laugh against his ear, his feet wiggling.

“Eddie, You’re such an asshole.” He shook his head and tried to hike his boyfriend up so he wouldn’t slip off. 

“Your point?” Eddie hummed. “So…you’re walking to my house, what for?” Eddie smiled and Richie rolled his eyes fondly.  

“To bother you…which by the way, where were you coming from?” Richie glanced his eyes up. Usually whenever Eddie left his home, one of the Losers was with him so he was more than curious.

“I was beating up Bill in the park.” He felt the boy shrug. -”And before you ask, he deserved it and he’s fine.” Eddie laughed again and Richie could see the incident now. Bill loved to mess with Eddie like he wasn’t aware what the little asshole was capable of. 

Bill would make his fun and let Eddie charge him for a round of play-fighting like a couple of brothers in the living room of their childhood home. Man, did it make Bill happy. He’d light up like a damn Christmas tree. They all knew why and they never mentioned it. Georgie had passed away some time ago, an out of the blue accident. Such a shitty world sometimes. 

“I was going to visit your mom, anyway-OW!” Richie felt Eddie pinch his neck. He chuckled. “Jealousy is not a flattering color for you.” 

Eddie hopped off his back and started to walk on Richie’s left side. It was a habit from their younger days that just never faded. Little Richie used to wander towards the street from the sidewalk because his strut was for some reason…a little tilted. Not so much anymore. But Eddie, Bill and Stan still planted themselves to his left like the memory was still taking place. Richie thank God that Ben, Mike and Bev didn’t have to remember how dumb he was back then…just how dumb he was now. He laughed to himself. 

“I was walking over to pick you up. Us Losers are taking a holiday trip to Mike’s place. I wanted to give you your gift before we see our favorite people.” Richie tapped his pocket and Eddie nodded. “Hey, now that I’m looking at your face…” Richie made a show of tilting his head and waving a hand in front of Eddie’s crinkled nose. He got his hand slapped away.

“You look a little glum, baby.” 

“That’s a stupid word-” 

“Melancholy? Sulky? Morose! You look a little morose, baby.” Richie pulled at Eddie’s arm and wasn’t pushed away this time so he rubbed up and down the boys jacket sleeve. 

“You look like a moron, baby.” Eddie mocked and Richie giggled. “Sorry, I’m pissy today.” 

“I got that, Ed’s. But why?” 

Richie got another light shove. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Felt like I couldn’t breath and…” Eddie tapped his own pocket where his inhaler was once again. “Shit, Rich. I know it’s all in my head but…that doesn’t stop me from re-creating that feeling whenever I get the slightest bit of anxiety about something.” 

Eddie sighed, sounding like a tired man some years their elder. “It scares the shit outta me that I just subconsciously do this to myself. How do you stop a thing like that?” 

“I don’t know.” Richie shrugged with an honest tone and wrapped an arm around his partner. “But, I know that you’ll get there. Maybe not today…maybe not tomorrow but soon, baby.” 

Eddie nodded but didn’t seem to believe him. Man, Richie really hated Sonia Kaspbrak for the shit she had pulled all throughout this poor kids childhood. “I got your back through and through, Eddie my love.” He shook him playfully and pulled back to get the small gift-box from his jacket pocket. 

Eddie stopped in front of him and sniffled cutely. “I feel bad. I should get your gift from my house before you-” 

“Nah, Eddie. I really wanna do this now.” Richie smiled and handed over a small box. It was wrapped in brown paper covered in mini-vintage Santa faces. There was an obnoxiously large ribbon atop it that he knew Eddie would keep for some odd reason. It was just one of those things he did.  

As he tore into the package, Richie nervously rolled his lips together.

Inside was a velvet box that when tilted open, allowed a small silvery band to come into view. It glittered in the winter air and Richie got down on his knobby knee like a true gentleman and smiled up at his man. “I thought I should get you a little ring for our engagement, you remember right?” He teased but surely meant the question at least a little bit. 

“Rich-” 

“My mom helped me. And don’t worry you’re pretty little head, I told her I was getting ya a promise ring.” He waved his hands a little. “So it’s not a true engagement ring, per se but-” 

“I love it.” Eddie slipped it on and slowly kneeled down to help Richie off the icy ground. “Get up and hug me, asshole.” 

Richie happily obliged. 

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{May, Senior Year} 

From then on, Richie and Eddie kept on like normal but there was some kind of glowing secret between them. The Losers noticed something, as well they would because they knew their friends too well. But none of them could quite put a finger on what was so different between them. 

Eddie was perched on Richie’s desk in Honors Lit. witch was about the only class that every Losers Club member had together. It was the last normal day of school before Graduation Day so the Senior class was basically free to do whatever. 

Eddie was whispering things that Richie would seem to consider before writing down on his pad of paper in a list or something. Ben watched them with a curious smile but didn’t ask. 

“I say we all drive to Graduation together so we can drive up to the Haunted K-Mart in the town over afterwards.” Bev smiled from her seat. 

“Why t-t-there?” Bill asked. 

“This might be our last chance to catch a spirit there!” She gestured her hands like that might impress them. “And there’s a Steak ‘N Shake right across the street.”

“Ahhh, the real reason she makes such requests.” Richie snapped his fingers and Bev shrugged. 

“Any takers?” 

Richie and Eddie shared a private worried glance. They both knew now that if the group agreed to go with this plan, they’d say yes too. They loved their friends too much to avoid plans with them for a big secret wedding they didn’t even know about. Especially considering Graduation night was sorta a big deal for them because soon enough, they’d separate. 

It wasn’t so bad. Eddie, Richie and Bill were all headed to the University of Maine campus. Mike, Ben and Bev were all going to another 4-year just around twenty minutes away. But….Stan….he was shipping out to one in Vermont which was a cool, crisp…4 hour drive. 

But they still had a whole summer to look forward too. At least that was something.

“Sorry, I can’t. My dad and Grandpa have been planning a dinner celebration at home.” Mike smiled sweetly as he thought about it and gave Bev a small shrug. 

“Me t-t-too. My parents want me home.” Bill frowned and they weren’t too sure ol’ Bill was going to have such a great time. 

Beverly sighed and turned to Stan who gave her a soft no for just about the same reasons. 

“And count us out! Eddie and I will be feasting at the Tozier’s.” Richie slapped Eddie’s nervous hand and they both felt swept under the instant relief. 

“My mom would love to have you over for dinner, Bev. She’s been keen on it for sometime.” Ben smiled again and a soft blush took over his cheeks just the same as it did on Beverly’s when she accepted this offer. 

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{May, Graduation Day}

“Eddie, don’t be alarmed but…there’s an old man sitting in the passenger seat of my car.” 

Richie narrowed his eyes and shook his head so the tassel on his cap would get out of his eyes. The sun was shining down onto the crisp green summer grass and had provided them comfortable Graduation weather all the day. 

The ceremony had been a mess of Losers Club tears and a solid thirty minutes spent afterwards just hanging out in the field in front of the building. They talked to each others families, hung-out and maybe he and Bev smoked a little. There was also the moment where Richie hugged Stan and proceeded to refuse to let go when he had to go with his parents. It took the Losers a good five minutes to get Richie off. Stan pretended he wasn’t having fun and saluted Richie with a middle finger and spun off to his parents car.  And soon after, all their best friends had gone off with their families. 

The Toziers came for the ceremony but allowed Richie and Eddie some extended time for a ‘date’. 

Eddie quirked his brow and crossed his arms. “No…are we sure that’s your car?” He saw the old man but it was still quite far from where they stood. Maybe it was just a similar-

“No, there’s the ‘Honk if you love Bruce Springsteen’ bumper sticker.” He pointed with his spindly finger and Eddie stepped back with confusion. 

There was in fact, an old man chilling in the passengers seat of their ‘Honeymoon Chariot’ as Richie had been calling it the past few hours. “Oh, Richie…maybe he’s just confused?” Eddie frowned, eyebrows knitting together in concern. With that, he started walking over to the vehicle. Richie hung back because he wasn’t very good at confrontation or conversation with older people. 

Eddie paused a bit in front of the passenger door and smiled. “Excuse me, sir?” 

The man was small, wrinkly and kind-looking. He had a baseball cap atop his surprisingly thick curly gray. “Oh…is there a problem? Should we not be parked here?” 

Richie stepped a little closer while Eddie dealt with the situation like a pro. 

“Oh no, nothing like that.” Eddie inched closer and gave the man his warmest smile as the sunshine cupped his face. “I think maybe you’ve confused this car with your own…?” He made a salute motion to block the harsh sunlight and to maybe to offer a warm look in his eyes that the old man could relate to. Eddie had this kind, sweet nature to him when he wasn’t truly thinking about it. It was a gift blessed onto Mike and Ben too, though Eddie’s wasn’t anywhere near the level of those two. 

“Oh…is this your-? I’m so sorry, my…I’m getting pretty forgetful, aren’t I?” The man made for the door and Eddie backed up and grabbed onto it when it opened to make sure there was no swing back. “It looks so much like my wife’s car.” He laughed, an old worn kind that Richie loved. 

“Understandable. Once, I was visiting my aunts place right? And I went out for a smoke. When I went back inside…” Richie chuckled, hand on his stomach “It was the wrong house. Boy, were those people freaked out to see this gangly teenager walk into their home flicking a lighter.” 

Richie enjoyed the familiar way Eddie smiled at him under the sunshine, he’d heard that story a few times himself. The older gentleman also seemed rightly amused. He took off his baseball cap and waved it as he laughed. 

“That sure kicks me out of lonesome town, huh?” He wiped under his eyes which Richie might’ve been ashamed to admit made him feel really good. Not many people laughed that hard at his shit. “Good to know I’m not the only guy making himself a fool, son.” 

Eddie happily grinned towards the man as he reached out to shake Richie’s hand. “So where’s the lucky gal who loves you, ol’ buddy?” 

The man lit up, smile widening. “Should be on her way to wherever the hell it was we parked. Had a few words left yet to say to our grand-boy.” He stood on his tip-toes to catch a peek of the crowd. 

“What’s say we walk you over? A car that looks like mine…should be easy to find, huh?” Richie tipped his chin to Eddie who nodded. So Richie offered his arm. 

“What’s your name, sir?” Eddie asked, strolling over to catch up. 

“Oliver…” He grinned. “The wife, she’s called Michelle…like that Beatles tune, I always say.” He chuckled. Richie and Eddie leaned a little forward to steal grins from each other. “She’s a real funny gal that kid.” 

“Gotta love the funny ones, huh?” Richie bumped him gently and Eddie shook his head, most likely pairing it with a roll of the ol’ eyes. “We sure can make it hard, sometimes.” He laughed again and Eddie carefully reached over to smack the back of his head. 

Oliver must have thought that was hysterical because he started joyfully laughing again. It warmed the boys hearts. “Sure can. Michelle…she does this little bit where she takes the quarters outta my ear…magic and all that.” Oliver rolled his eyes but not with annoyance but fond and genuine love. It was a look that Eddie knew oh so well. “Then she turns a whole bouquet of flowers out from her sleeve….” He paused. “No one else for me in the world except Michelle.” 

Richie felt himself blush at the mere thought of how he felt just the same about Eddie, who was walking peacefully in the grass with the tassel hanging over his eyes. 

“Oh! There’s the ol’ girl now.” Oliver let go of Richie’s arm and started to happily stroll over to the car that did look pretty similar to Richie’s. “Thank you, boys! Been too kind!” He waved and looked like he was far too excited to get back to his lady to stay any longer. 

The sky was gold and a breeze was passing through the remaining crowd of graduates. Red gowns blew in the wind and families huddled together for pictures. 

Richie leaned closer to his boyfriend. “Remember that old videotape we found in your room? The one from our dumb classroom Thanksgiving play?” 

Eddie blinked at the abrupt memory but nodded. That seemed like a million years ago yet didn’t feel very far from them at all. The years bled together these days but that had been the age where the town of Derry felt like the whole world (and what a shitty world). Eddie could still hear the sound of Bill’s father coming home at 6:00 in his head, plastered there from all their sleepovers. Richie turned to fully face Eddie and kicked his leg gently so he’d turn too. 

“I’ve been feeling for you, what he described with his wife since about then.” 

Eddie felt his heart melt. “Rich, we were like six or seven. There’s no way-” 

The man’s eyes were swelled with tears like a gutter full of rain which made Eddie stop in his tracks. Of course, Richie meant that sentiment. He was always so painfully genuine. “Please, kiss me and then drive me to our damn wedding. I’m so ready to be your husband.” 

Richie didn’t need to be told twice. 

                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{May, Castle Rock’s finest Chapel}

“At least if your face turns blue, we can check ‘something blue’ off the wedding list-” 

Eddie lowered his inhaler and smacked Richie playfully on the arm but soon pulled it back to wrap around his body. The summer breeze seemed somehow colder in Castle Rock. They had both paused on the steps of the Chapel, knowing they were feeling the empty spaces of their friends. They should be here but…they weren’t. Because at the time of planning, it seemed to be for the best. But they missed them.  

Richie glanced down at his boy. “You ok?”

Eddie clutched his inhaler once more for something like comfort and shoved it back into his pocket. “I’m peachy.” He smiled. 

The sun was near setting behind their heads and draped a rose colored light over their bodies. “We can back-out, you know? Just because we said we would, doesn’t mean we have to follow through on anything, Eds. If you want to go home just tell me.” He pulled him closer and laid his chin atop Eddie’s hair. 

Eddie pulled off of him, kissed his cheek and took his hand. 

They ran into the Chapel and lived a moment they’d hold close to their hearts forever. A private kind of memory. Just for the two of them to share. 

Some ways away in Derry, in a car that looked an awful lot like Richie’s, a radio played ‘Michelle’…

                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{June, Derry. A week later}

The young lovers had been planning to share their news since the big day last week but each time a chance was gifted to them…they both backed out. They were classic chickens. 

This night brought all the Losers together and stuffed them into Bill’s car, fresh from a fun little time drinking in his basement. They were all a little buzzed apart from Stan and Richie, who didn’t drink a sip. 

Eddie was practically vibrating in his seat yet his eyes kept drifting shut. He usually got sleepy in cars, Richie pulled him closer and asked for the radio to be turned up. 

It was getting late and they all seemed a bit restless. Beverly and Mike were having a hushed conversation about a deer they’d just seen on the side of the road and Ben mindlessly caressed Beverly’s hand. “Shit, I’ve been meaning to ask-” Bill started. 

“I went over to your house after my dinner on Graduation, Rich. Your parents said you and Eddie weren’t around-?” 

Richie glanced up at Bill’s eyes in the mirror and rolled his lips together. It wasn’t hard to just make shit up but he did not want to lie-

“Richie and I drove up to Castle Rock and got married.” Eddie mumbled, his voice in sing-song and his forehead pressed against the window. 

“WHAT!?” 

The whole car screamed and Bill accidentally hit the brake much harder than he intended to at the stop sign. The group all flew a bit forward from their seats and caused a chorus of restrained choking coughs when the seat-belts pulled. Richie tried to collect himself before Eddie but failed. 

“We’ve been engaged-” He hiccuped and pulled out the ring he’d been hiding in his pocket. “Since October.” 

Bill drove on, foot hitting the gas pedal with much more grace than before. The car fell silent until Beverly turned from the front seat…a most awful look of confusion on her face. “Eddie, tell me that Richie has just rubbed off on you and that’s a very weird joke.” 

Richie scowled. “It’s not a joke. We got married at the Chapel in Castle Rock just like he said.” 

Again, the car was full of tense silence apart from the sound of the wheels on the street. “Engaged….since October and you didn’t tell us?” Bill asked from the drivers seat, glancing at them in the mirror every once in a while. 

Eddie fell against Richie’s shoulder like he was about to drift off into sleep again so Richie slowly wrapped his arm around him and ran his hands through his hair when he began to speak. “We thought you guys would talk us out of it-”

“Rightly so.” Stan spoke up and Richie snapped his head over to look at him. “Engaged? Married? You guys are eighteen years old.” He shook his head. “And before you go for a low blow, you know everyone in this car agrees that you two are meant to be together but…” Stan paused to find his wording but Richie wanted to jump down his throat. 

“But what exactly?” He covered Eddie’s ears accidentally on purpose when he shifted but he figured the boy needed some sleep. 

“Jumping into marriage that young is not going to work out. It could very well hurt you two.” Stan’s voice lowered into soft concern but Richie was heated up. 

“And you got married.” Beverly turned in her seat again, this time with a nervous cigarette in her hand. “Without us.” 

Richie’s stomach turned as a fresh wave of horrible guilt hit him. He really had nothing to respond to that with so he shrank back into his seat. The radio blanketed the riders with a loud distraction. 

‘Heard it from a friend who Heard it from a friend who Heard it from another you been messin’ around…’

“All I’m trying to say here, Rich, is that getting married that early on can cause strain on a relationship.” Stan looked down at his hands but it only steamed Richie back up once again. 

“You don’t know that, Stanley. You said it yourself, Eddie and I are supposed to be together-” 

“Fate doesn’t matter if you make a bad decision, Richie. It’s only plain logic. You two barely know what you’re going to be doing in the very near future! Eddie, you told me back in September that you weren’t even sure you wanted to go to the University of Maine. What happened there? Any of that get resolved before this wedding?” Stan reached out his hand to gesture to Eddie but the boy was looking much paler and more and more like he might break into a sweat. Mike kept a close eye on the kid while the others kept with their noise and the radio grew more intense. 

Richie glanced at Eddie and frowned. “You don’t know shit about our relationship-” 

Stan looked offended. “Shit, Richie, everyone in this car knows your relationship almost as well as the parties involved.” He flicked his fingers at the happy couple. “You know that. The Losers, man. We’re in this life together, asshole.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to help you. I don’t wanna see you-” 

“Too late, Stan! We’re already married.” Richie laughed, full of pain. 

“And happily too, it sounds.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Hey Fuckhead! We were happy before we told you-!”

“You didn’t even tell us, your best friends, until after the fact. PLUS, Eddie only broke it out cause he’s drunk!” Bill suddenly piped up from the front seat. The screaming match suddenly involved everyone in the car. Though Mike and Ben were trying more so to calm everyone than yelling. 

Eddie felt his chest pounding with anxiety, the familiar sensation of a lack of air built up. “Stop the car.” He mumbled, covering his mouth. No one seemed to hear. “Stop the car!” He tried once more with a hiccup of leftover alcohol bubbling from his throat. 

Mike glanced over and finally, someone noticed. 

“Stop the car! I’m going to throw the fuck up!” Eddie screamed at the same time that Mike shouted a strong ‘STOP THE CAR!’

Bill hit the brakes extremely hard again though the yelling continued even as Eddie opened the car door and hopped onto the curb. He kneeled over himself, palms pressed onto his knees as he dry-heaved. He glanced back into the car at all his friends screaming and bit into his lip…

The sound of loud feet hitting the pavement broke the screaming. The Losers all looked up just in time to see Eddie quite literally take off like a rocket. Richie could almost hear the gun blast signaling a race because the kid was sprinting faster than a speeding bullet. “Holy shit.” Beverly tried to open her car door. 

The six of them all hopped out once Bill actually parked on the curb and started off after him. But the thing about Eddie was…he was fucking fast. Richie had a lot of energy but was no sport champion. He so desperately tried to push himself that he almost felt fire coming off his feet. 

Mike seemed to be the one outta the group to get the closest but he turned the corner and skidded to a stop. It was so sudden that they almost all crashed together. “He’s gone.” Mike sighed, hand to his forehead. 

They all started attempting to catch their breath, hands either over their chests or pressed to their knees like Eddie’s had been. 

Richie stumbled and landed his ass on the middle of the street. “Fuck.” he spoke to the sky in his horrible exhaust. A hand hovered above him which turned out to be Stan’s. There was a bit of hesitance but Richie accepted the help up. “Let’s split up. Cover more ground. Our Ed’s is a speedy Bastard.” 

Beverly played with her hands which meant she was either nervous or scared. Maybe both. But she nodded like this was the most import mission in her life. 

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ben happened across Eddie first. His friend was sitting on a bench in front of the Gazebo in the park. Ben’s heart melted at the sight of the poor, tired and drunk kid. 

“Hey, Eddie.” Ben gently approached like he was a skittish dog or something but Eddie didn’t seem to mind. He just scooted over to make some room on the tiny bench. “I know things got…pretty intense in the car-” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I just…-yeah, I’m buzzed but I’m excited, Ben. So fucking excited about this and I just wanted to tell you guys.” He sniffled and Ben scooted closer. “We really didn’t mean to be such shitty friends. You guys always want whats best for us…so we knew you’d try to talk us out of it.” Eddie glanced up with wide, innocent eyes. Ben opened his mouth. 

“So yeah, I admit that we knew it was kind of a dumb enough idea because we made that decision to keep it from you. We had to be aware enough to do that.” Eddie shrugged, his jacket now pooling at his elbows. He wasn’t completely sure that he was making any sense. “But it made us really happy, Ben. I love him…so much.” 

Ben threw his arm around Eddie and sighed. “I know, Eddie. Trust me on that word. I do.” He rubbed his arm slowly and felt Eddie nod. 

“And I feel his love for me every fucking day. Richie loves with his whole being, Ben.” Eddie giggled like the thought of it was enough to send him into a blush. “No one is gonna be in love with me the way that he is. So what’s the point in waiting?”

Ben went quiet because the sentiment was so genuinely lovely that it became hard for him to argue…

The two of them sat on the park bench, not knowing how to move on from the moment. 

                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{October, Freshman Year of College} 

There was nothing even close to a falling out between the Losers Club after that horrible night. That was just the kind of magic that came with their relationship. Far too much love to ever let them drift away. Though besides the screaming, the other thing to be forgotten after that night was Stan’s statement about Eddie confessing he might’ve been unsure about the University of Maine…

Tension rose on occasion but the happy couple seemed satisfied enough. The Losers were happy, as long as they were. 

The Toziers were still not aware that their son had gotten hitched but Richie intended to tell them after completing at least one year of school. Sonia Kaspbrak….well she tried so desperately to keep Eddie right at home and to dig into his personal life. Eddie wanted nothing to do with that. So she also had no clue, Eddie would be lying if he didn’t say it was empowering. 

The beginning of the school year had been extremely hard because Stan was ‘leaving’ them but 4-hours felt like forever. There’d been a lot of crying and hugs to go around when it came time for him to leave and boy did he wait until the last possible minute to go. 

Richie basically cried his eyes out. Stan took him aside for a few minutes just to reassure him that this made no difference. The seven of them were forever tied together. He even gave him a nice framed photo of the whole group for the dorm Richie and Eddie had applied for together. “Call it a late engagement gift.” He added with a crinkle of his eyes, reminding Richie of an old man. Though there was a still a bit of tension on that subject, he knew Stan might still believe the marriage to have been a bad idea. Richie gladly accepted it anyway because it was a gift filled with genuine love. 

They were all a good month or so into their Freshman years and already developed their routines. 

And at the University of Maine, Richie and Eddie had already become something of a cool topic. Mr. and Mr. Tozier. The married couple in dorm 24. They would be lying if they didn’t say they enjoyed the attention. They were a couple of losers after all. 

“What does he have that I don’t?” Eddie frowned and pushed at Richie’s shoulders. 

“Don’t be jealous, baby.” Richie turned back and smirked. “It’s not a flattering color.” He giggled when Eddie tackled him on the bed, the one to the left of them was almost never used. The Bruce Springsteen poster Richie had been admiring watched over them as they fell into a make-out session.

The sloppier kisser between them pulled back and licked grotesquely up from the base of Eddie’s neck to his ear. From the new spot, Richie began whispering which he knew drove Eddie mad because it was a ticklish feeling. 

“I got a bad desire. Oh-oh-oh, I’m on fire…” Richie mumbled and Eddie tried to kick him off the bed. 

“Don’t sing me the lyrics of the man you’re cheating on me with! You cruel, cruel idiot!” Eddie giggled with insane love and new switched to trying to knee him in the stomach. Finally, Richie rolled off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud. 

“Oh, you are so juvenile, Eddie my dear.” Richie stayed there on the floor with a smirk. 

“Me? You licked my ear, which is disgusting, and tried to serenade me with Springsteen.” Eddie fell comfortably on the bed, chin just on the edge so that he could look down at his…husband. Which was still odd to hear when it came rolling off their tongues. 

They shared fond looks and Eddie turned to lay back on the bed but let his arm hang over the side so Richie could play with his fingers. “By the way-” Eddie turned his head though he was way above his partner. “Did you fill the gas tank in our car after class last night?” 

Richie sighed. “Our car? I’ll have you know that ‘James Taylor’ has been mine since I was sixteen, Eds.” The smirk was present in his tone and Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever, did you fill it or what? It was really low and I need it for my Physics class this afternoon.” Eddie felt Richie pause from petting his palm. 

“No, I forgot. Can’t you fill it before class?” Richie pleaded and Eddie ripped his hand away in annoyance. 

“Oh so I can’t call it ‘our’ car but I get to pay for the gas almost every time it needs to be filled. Just cause you don’t like getting out of the damn car because ‘it ruins the mood of your drives.’” Eddie scowled. 

Richie sat up and scooted so that his back would lean against the bedside drawer. “You’re borrowing my car, Eds. It’s only fair for you to fill it when you run the gas.” He shrugged and watched as Eddie hopped off the bed and started getting his things together for his class even though he had plenty of time. 

“You’re parents are the ones who bought it for you. And now I’m paying for gas nearly every-time…so what, pray tell, makes it so wrong for me to refer to ‘James Taylor’-” He paused to roll his eyes “As ours?” 

Richie looked up with a bit of a heated expression and sighed with frustration. 

“Look Rich, if it bothers you so much, I can try and save up for my own car. I wasn’t lucky enough to get one when we were younger cause…well, you know my mother.” Eddie shuddered and threw his bag aside. “She’d never give me a gift that would only be a gateway for my moving on.” He scowled, completely irritated at her yet feeling guilty as she was not there to defend herself. Richie knew that look all too well and tried to convince his husband that it was ok for it to blossom. It was more than ok to be mad at Sonia. But…how do you make someone understand that their mother deserves hatred? Because no matter what, a mother is a mother in the mind of young Eddie. There would always be a shred of Eddie that would try to defend her because of that ‘A mother & her boy’ complex she had pounded in him. 

The air in the room seemed to lose some of the tension and Richie took that as a good sign as he heaved his body off the floor. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right. ‘James Taylor’ is ours.” Richie sat on the other bed and took Eddie’s smaller hand in his own, pulled it with soft shyness and his husband leaned down so he could press a kiss to his temple. “We’re on for dinner right?” 

Eddie nodded and rubbed the pad of his finger into the corner of his eye. “Yeah. We can probably splurge on that cool Shawarma place you like so much tonight, if you’d like?” 

Richie lit up at that possibility and smiled. “Sounds peachy, Eddie my love.” He reached up to steal a quick kiss and twirled off the bed to see his love out the door if he was going to leave so early. 

Richie didn’t have any classes today and thought he’d enjoy such a treasure by calling up Mike because he missed his voice even though they weren’t even that far away. Though, Richie hadn’t seen much of anyone in a while. He and Eddie spent much of their free time trying to get their schedules aligned and making sure they had dinner together in the spots between work and school. The pair of husbands hadn’t had much in the company department apart from…well, each other. 

                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{December, Freshman Year of College}

Bill tightened his grip around Eddie’s body and attempted to tackle him into the snow but the little demon managed to turn the tables and get the advantage on him. He did not let him fall onto the cold snow but was trying to make sure Bill knew who had one this little play-fight. “Alright, I g-g-give!” He chuckled and Eddie backed off with a skip in his step. 

“Ben and Bev s-seemed to have found their ideal apartment!-” 

“So I’ve heard.” Eddie smiled and wiggled his cold toes in his shoes. “I talked to Ben on the phone for like two hours last night. Told me all about their plan.” He rolled his lips together and felt the bit of winter at the tips of his ears. “They got their apartment to dwell in for the next three years-”

“And than off to Chicago after graduation!” Bill chuckled, so excited for their best friends. 

Eddie nodded but fell silent as they stepped into the same pace, walking through campus without a true destination. “How’s the search goin’ for you two?” Bill asked the question he’d been dreading to answer.

“Mmmm-” Eddie hummed and looked off to the side. “It’s going, alright. we’d like to have something to move into by the start of Sophomore year cause the dorm is way too tight. But it’s gotta be in our price range…” Eddie shrugged. The two of them had been doing fairly ok for a couple of college kids. He’d been balancing school and his job at the shop in town. But Richie-

“Man, I’m so fucking proud of Richie, Bill.” Eddie giggled happily at the thought as Bill threaded their arms together so neither of them slipped on any ice. “He’s somehow balancing classes, his job down at the restaurant and he’s doing the radio shows here…” Eddie glanced up at the school. 

Bill shook their grip a little and his smile could’ve blinded. “I’m s-s-so happy for you two. Things seem t-t-to be going pretty smoothly.” 

Eddie nodded, mind going back to the night he and Richie lingered in the radio broadcasting room after his show. It’d been snowing extremely hard that night and neither one of them had been eager to run on back to ‘James Taylor’ when the weather would surely bite and they’d have to wait forever for the car to warm itself up. So they stalled for as long as they could. 

He blushed at the memory. 

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{May, just before Sophomore Year of College}

The apartment hunt worked it’s magic and the happy couple had been to find themselves a warm building. It was fairly cheap so it wasn’t what one would call paradise but it was miles better then their tiny dorm room. 

Their first year of school had passed them by and gifted them a better perspective on their wants & needs, whether they voiced them to each other was a whole separate issue. They moved in towards the end of June and Eddie had been prescribed his anxiety medication a short four days later. 

Richie had noticed his husbands anxiety starting to come up on a rise the past few months. Eddie got sick quite a bit more often and seemed to hopelessly latch onto it. Making himself believe it’s still plaguing him when it’s more or less been gone. There’d been an incident some weeks ago where his husband got to his tipping point. He’d stayed up all night feeling phantom nausea because of a simple test. It’d never been so bad for him before. 

So Richie held his hand through and through, making an appointment with the doctor who talked with his husband for a long while. And Eddie left with a piece of paper telling him a low-dose of medication to try out would be waiting for him at their local Walgreens. 

“I miss the ol’ gang, we need to get everyone together soon.” Richie sighed and poured Eddie some of the red wine he liked so much, which in moderation was good for the heart, he’d always say. The shorter man took his glass and cuddled up against Richie’s chest and nodded. 

They were preparing for a nice and calm movie night even though they should’ve been spending their time unpacking. The boxes were taking up a lot of floor space but with the messes that they could be sometimes, they didn’t really mind. 

Two paintings from Sears, three from the local thrift store, a funky chair from Ben’s childhood-home basement and a plaid couch from Bill’s were some of their new ‘purchases’. But the apartment was already starting to feel like home, as long as they had each other anyway. 

“Stan passed that exam he was so worried about, I damn well told him that would happen.” Richie chuckled into his own glass and fogged it up while the TV menu appeared. 

“We all told him.” Eddie teasingly tipped Richie’s glass with the tip of his finger when he went for another sip. This was rewarded with a sloppy, wet red-wine kiss being pressed against his cheek. Eddie giggled and tried to shove his husband off. “I love you so much, asshole. You know that?” 

Richie blushed like a lovesick kid and rubbed his nose into Eddie’s hair as he shook his head. “Not as much as I love you.” He spoke genuinely that Eddie felt that familiar melting sensation. So he reached his hand back to pet the man’s cheek and feel his heat. 

“I don’t want to fight on our wedding anniversary but you’re wrong. I love you so much more-!” Eddie was interrupted by Richie shoving his tongue into his ear and his gasp of disgust mixed with laughter he couldn’t help. 

The idiots began shoving and tickling each other without a care in the world, balancing their wine glasses because they were too focused to put them back on the table. They’d just have to risk spilling. 

They might not have been rolling in the money but they had this. And that was all that mattered. It reminded Richie of a song, so he started mumbling the words into the crook of his love’s neck. 

“-And even though we ain’t got money I’m so in love with you honey And everything will bring a chain of love And in the mornin’ when I rise Bring a tear of joy to my eyes And tell me everything is gonna be alright…”

Eddie couldn’t help but sing along with him, eyes glazed over with admiration and true, fine love. 

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{July , Sophomore Year of College}

The sun was always very fond of Richie, at least Eddie always thought so. The light was consistently complimentary to the man and had this way of making him look like the picture of the sunny 70′s.

“What are you doing?” Richie squinted as he walked briskly to the front of the apartment building where Eddie was sat, hands shoved in his pockets. He’d been gone for a while now and the pair may or may not have left on bad terms…fresh from an argument about something stupid. 

“I went out after you left….-” He pointed his thumb at the door behind him. “Got locked out.”

Richie rolled his eyes fondly and got his own key from his pocket as Eddie stood and followed behind him. “Where’s your key? And where did you go?”

The man behind him went quiet again in that eerie way could really freak Richie out sometimes. “Forgot it here. And I um…-I went to Marty’s.” He shrugged like it was no big deal but he knew for certain that it was an explosion waiting to happen. Richie looked at him with fury as they got to his door.

“You went to the bar to look for me?” He glared and it felt as if Eddie’s stomach was suddenly tied in a huge knot.

“You can’t blame me!” He went straight into defense and followed the guy into their lonesome apartment. The air grew with tension as his partner chose not to speak and instead went about the place doing small clean-ups. This only made Eddie feel even more angry. “You honestly can’t blame me. You’ve been known to go there a lot, Rich.”

“I’m not some sorry man that you need to look out for, Ed’s. I know I can…drink a bit more than planned but…” He suddenly turned from his position at the sink. “I don’t just go out drinking because we had a fight. The place had an opening for it’s open mic night and I thought I might try to get a spot for my comedy, you know?” He threw down a dish-towel and Eddie swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I feel like the asshole of the year” He ran his hand through his hair and sat down on the couch, hoping that the ‘fight’ would ease up. “I just thought…you were so upset when you left and it reminded me of the night I had to pick you up-” 

“I’m sorry about that, Eddie. I…-losing the restaurant job got me all wigged out. I know that’s no excuse to drink myself sick but…it wasn’t that often and that shit is over now.” Richie grabbed Eddie’s hands and kissed him softly. 

“This is not a good period for us, Richie.” Eddie got the hint that the fight had basically run it’s course and they sat down on their couch.

Richie opened and closed his mouth, deciding to just tilt his head back and sigh. There was nothing more for them to say. So they just allowed themselves to enjoy being with the one they loved.

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{September, Sophomore Year of College}

Richie felt a growing pain in his head. It flared every few minutes and he could almost smell the scent of something burning each time it hit him. The quick intensity was becoming harder and harder to ignore considering Eddie pitter-patting the length of their kitchen. There would be a few minutes of soothing silence and he’d think he was safe…just the distant and quiet hum of the television-*Slam* another clatter from the cold cracking dishes. His ache would start from the base of his back, travel up his spine in the form of a chill and then burst into his temples.

“What are you doing in there?” Richie finally broke their record-breaking twenty minute silence. It had been strange and he was glad the opportunity to speak came up. He turned and due to the small space, he could stare right at the other man in the dining-kitchen area.

“The dishes. Y’know. You eat off of them, I clean them. Ever heard of it?” Eddie remarked with snark. That would have usually launched them into a round of their usual playful bickering but for some odd reason, maybe the headache, it just irritated Richie to hear it.

“I do my part around here.” He scowled and spoke harshly, rolling his eyes. Turning back a little away from.

They’d made it through another week and were back at the beginning of another weekend, magically. Richie and Eddie had attempted many times in the past week or so to plan some kind of exciting date night. But the more time went on, they just seemed to forget or become far too busy. It was agonizing and isolating. Sure they had each other but it just wasn’t…fully satisfying?

Richie felt his lunch launch back up his throat, he harshly swallowed it and let himself feel sick to his stomach. And suddenly, he had a burning question in the back of his mind. It had lingered there for the past few nights but he’d been too…well himself to ask it. But it suddenly pained him not to. He turned again, leaning his arm on the back of the couch. “You’re not…mad at me, are you?” He played with his fingers.

Eddie looked up with a confused expression. “Your tone was hardly nice but I’m not mad-”

“No, not because of that, Spaghetti man.” Richie couldn’t help but grin a little. Eddie smiled right back and it was a nice moment. He bathed in it for a few minutes before deciding to explain himself. “I know I’ve been a piece of work lately…”

Neither had spoken that to light but it may have been true. Richie being fired from the restaurant job he loved which had been a whole event had cause some issues. The need for a job search was sudden and a little difficult. And he may have been a little on edge lately waiting for the bar with the open mic night opening to call him back. But Eddie knew the strain was only because Richie was concerned for their life together. In fact, Eddie was more disappointed that Richie couldn’t focus on the radio show at school that he loved so much.

Eddie thought about making another joke but decided against. Rather, he put his dishes to the side and strolled over and slowly sat beside his boy. Instinctively, he reached over to brush his hair back and lingered his hand there.

“And I don’t admit to that…like ever. So, take it while you can.” Richie stole a joke and laughed lightly. But both of them knew he was not too happy and both of them were worried.

“It’s not comforting when you talk like you despise yourself, y’know?” Eddie blinked. That comment hadn’t been one of Richie’s worst in the last week but it sure wasn’t warm. It was hard to ignore the man’s self-deprecating attitude as of late. And Eddie would never want to just ignore it. In all honesty, it was deeply unsettling but not uncommon to hear the other man talk like that.

As long as he’d known him, Richie put on a front that he was some confident, funny man entertainer. It was so smooth and effortless that it was entirely convincing. Hearing him crack jokes and smirk at his own reckless and daring behavior gave the illusion that it wasn’t stemming from insecurity. Eddie quickly saw through the facade after truly getting to know Richie. 

“I’m sorry, Eds.” 

“Don’t apologize, Rich.” Eddie kissed the top of his head and then trailed down to his temple. Not for the first time, Eddie felt a rush of guilt. Part of him felt responsible for the fact that Richie was stuck at the University of Maine instead somewhere like…California. Maybe if he hadn’t just pushed away that conversation with Stan all that time ago. Maybe if he’d voiced his confusion back then…

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Richie sighed into Eddie’s grip. 

“Me too, Rich.” Eddie hugged him as tight as he could and dreaded the moment he’d have to let him go.

                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{November, Sophomore Year of College}

Party streamers were burrowed into the carpeting of the apartment, pounded there from all the dancing. From the neat little window where the tiny balcony sat, the low-hanging sun scattered the room in gold flecks of light. The trees were changing for the upcoming season, Richie’s favorite holiday coming with it. The town was soon to be rid of the deep reds and beautiful oranges. Eddie had a fleeting moment of joy when he thought about the smiles Richie would soon get when observing the scenery. It lasted for a second or two.

The Losers Club had been fully reunited for the best Birthday Party one could imagine. Richie had spent ages organizing everyone’s return for Eddie’s special day. Stanley Uris had got past his 4-hour drive with a smile on his face because seeing all his best friends worth it. 

But now came the end of the night, where the decorations hung with a lonesome kind of drowsiness. The apartment had once been tuned to an exciting F.M. but when the last guest left, the dial turned to the A.M. radio. Not literally, but that’s just how Richie felt about it…hard to explain the shit his mind compared things to. 

It reminded him of the Christmas parties hosted by his aunt that he’d been taken to as a little tot. The holly-jolly music carried all the guests and filled them with their take of Holiday joy. But on the way home, Richie would be long tired and ready to sleep. As he would dowse, his parents played the A.M. stations. It signaled to him the end of fun and that was the energy in their apartment now. 

Eddie started whistling a tune as he dug through their bin of CD’s, eyes never leaving his partners which only made Richie hide his blush behind the large wine glass he’d stolen. 

‘You know I can’t smile without you I can’t smile without you I can’t laugh and I can’t sing I’m finding it hard to do anything…’

Richie faked like he was tired of this song but truly he was on cloud 9. “My lovely Ed’s loves his Barry Manilow.” He smirked and held out his hand so the exhausted love of his life could dance with him. “And please, don’t give me the excuse that it’s only cause it’s what you grew up listening to. You love him, Eds.” 

Eddie pursed his lips and shrugged, accepting Richie’s hand and twirling himself to Richie’s chest. “This song reminds me of you…” He hummed when Richie ran his hand down his cheek. The dying evening sun cascaded in through the window and bathed their bodies in bittersweet tangerine light. They swirled about their living area carpet in the vacuum of dry and unforgiving air because their heater was on the fritz. 

“You requested off work for Christmas, right?” Richie asked and Eddie sighed.

“No, sorry. I forgot.” He spun under Richie’s arm and allowed himself to be pulled right back. Richie softly slapped his shoulder and nodded. They were due back to the Tozier’s household soon. After Richie had told them about that runaway wedding and teen engagement…they’d been fairly pissed. But things were better now. 

“S’fine, baby.” Richie mumbled into his hair as they swayed together.

“Richie?” Eddie sucked in some air and thought it to be a now or never kind of situation. His man looked down at him with wide, loving eyes and gave Eddie hope that everything would work out. They stayed dancing. “Do you remember the night we all fought in the car after we told everyone we got married…when I ran off?”

Richie nodded, opening his mouth. 

“-Remember when Stan said something about my being confused about wanting to go to the University of Maine?” 

“Yeah….why-ummm, why are we bringing this up now?” Richie pulled back a little but they kept swaying as the song went on and on. “Has something changed?” 

Eddie bit hard into his lip. “I’ve been thinking about us lately.” 

Richie was especially good at making himself look smaller. Sometimes, when Eddie looked at him it was hard not to just take the man into his arms. When Richie was upset, he felt it deep within himself just the same. One of the worst parts of this whole mess was having to witness such emotions from the man he loved. Richie was leaning with his back against the couch to better feel the warmth from the sun-spot coming through the window and it was a breathtaking image. Golden sun-rays threaded through his hair and glazed his entire body and there was a peace there that was soothing. As he admired all that it was and all that he would miss, it occurred to him that maybe the man needed to actually hear some of that love that was on his mind.“Richie?”

The man dropped their hands and nodded. “Sorry, sorry. What have you been thinking about, Eddie?” 

Eddie swung his arms around nervously and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if our friends were right…about our marriage.” 

Richie felt his heart completely shatter. “Eddie, I-”

“Wait, just hear me out.” Eddie held up his hand to gently pause the man he loved so, so much. “I am so in love with you, Richie. I love being your husband.” He saw a quick picture of the face that old man, Oliver, had made when talking about his wife all that time ago. “It’s just…I think our relationship and later…our marriage kept you from going to California like you always wanted to.” 

“Eddie, that’s ridiculous-”

“Is it though? The reason you applied University of Maine was because you wanted to be with me. The reason you ended up actually going was a commitment to our marriage…” Eddie sniffled back some tears and tried not to drown in the guilt. “And the reason I applied was because….I was scared to be far from my mom, not because I wanted to go.” 

Eddie admitted that to his shoes and let out a horrible sob. Richie came over to pull the boy into his arms. “Hey, hey, hey…Shhhh, Ed’s. Take a breath.” He ran his hands through the boys hair and they went quiet so Eddie could collect himself. And when he did, Richie stepped back again. 

“I love you but I feel like our marriage is holding us back, baby.” Eddie cringed when Richie let out his own sob. “I’m so so so scared that I’m gonna need someone to take care of me for my whole life…” Eddie went on and Richie tried very hard to listen. “I’m such a dependent person sometimes and…I-I don’t think jumping from a dependent relationship with my mother to a committed marriage was a great thing for me…no matter how much I love you.” 

Richie’s heart shattered. “Eddie…but I’m not like your mother. I’m not gonna smother you or-” 

“I know that.” Eddie frowned. “Damn sure of that. But the problem is me, Richie.” He shook his head and sort of hated himself. “This situation that my mother created for me has made me too comfortable with always having someone take care of me. I let it fucking happen because I’ve been forced to be dependent my whole childhood…my whole life.” 

“And I don’t wanna live like that.” Eddie broke into a full sub and fell to his knees on the carpet, smashing more dead party streamers. Richie fell down in front of him and hopelessly pulled him in for a hug. 

“Eddie…-”

“I don’t wanna hold you back anymore, Richie. And I gotta…” He hiccuped into Richie’s chest. “I have to get some perspective on life and shit. Be independent for once in my damn life.” 

“Eddie, why didn’t you talk to me-?” 

“I didn’t really realize this shit until a few days ago, Richie. And I was scared you’d think it was because I didn’t love you. Which is Bullshit. I love you more than anything. You’re the one I’m supposed to be with just…not like this. Not in this situation, right now.” Eddie pulled back, a little bit more relaxed and grabbed Richie’s hands. “So I think I should go. We should take a break. I don’t know for how long-” 

“Eddie. We can work this out.” He pathetically begged and tugged his husband’s arms. 

“We can.” Eddie agreed. “Just by ourselves first. Separated.” 

Richie hiccuped himself and shook his head. “No, Eddie. We need to be together..I-.” He frowned. “If you walk out that door, that’s it. Not a break. We’ll be broken up. That’s it.” Richie stood up and looked down at the love of his life hoping to anything that would listen that Eddie might change his mind because of his juvenile threat. 

Eddie looked up with wide, watery eyes. “This is something I have to do, Richie. Something you have to do too. I want the best life for you so if you’re gonna damn threaten me than I’ll have to take it. If being broken up means that you’ll get the life you deserve, well that’s the path we’ll take.” Eddie hopped up and ran to the bedroom, starting to get his shit together in a suitcase. 

Richie felt the wind get knocked out of him as he chased Eddie around the apartment, slowly falling apart with everything he threw in the suitcase. “Eddie. Please slow down. Stop-” 

“I’m going to Bill’s.” Eddie made it to the front door with a suitcase full of random clothes that he hoped would get him through at least a week. He hovered his hand on the doorknob. 

“I mean it, Eddie. You leave and that’s it.” Richie sobbed. Eddie looked at him with all the love in his soul….

He turned the knob and left Richie to crumble onto his carpet and cry his eyes out. 

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{A week later….}

The night was a trying one for Richie. The apartment was practically dead apart from the terribly busy sounding quick taps of a keyboard. And though he was the one making that sound, it didn’t stop it from slowly driving him insane. His stomach turned from the mixture of anger and nerves that were boiling inside. So instead of slamming his head into his palms and letting out the emotions, he composed himself. He sat straight and tall, threading his slim fingers together. He copycatted those relaxing breaths Mike had once taught him. 

He was attempting to get some homework done and treated himself to glass of chocolate milk like he was a child. Just as the last drop splashed in the glass, his phone began ringing. 

“Eddie’s coming over there in like twenty minutes.” Bill’s cool voice spoke from over the phone and Richie’s hopes climbed so high. “Don’t get t-t-too excited. He just wants to p-pick up some more clothes and his medication.” 

Richie nodded and sighed. By now, the news must have traveled to every member of The Losers Club and for once in his life, Richie was glad Stan was far away. He couldn’t face him knowing his best friend had been right the entire time and he had to learn it the hard way instead of hearing him out all that time ago. He’d rather be in his father’s dentist chair than face Stan anytime soon. 

“You ok, Rich?” 

Richie shrugged even though Bill couldn’t see. “Try absolutely heart-broken, Billiam.” 

Bill’s end went quiet until he let out a sigh. “I know this is hard on you guys but Richie, try to understand that this is really i-i-important to Eddie.” Bill echoed Eddie’s sentiment and Richie felt a tear try to escape. He was right. He’d been as jerk to refuse the break Eddie had offered. Living independently seemed like something that meant a lot to his…-to Eddie. 

He hated to admit it but he waited around for Eddie pathetically for the whole twenty-five minutes it took for him to arrive. What really put the nail in the coffin was the fact that Eddie buzzed. As permission to enter the apartment building they were supposed to be living in together. He insisted that Eddie not knock once upstairs, just walk in the damn room.

The front door closed alarmingly soft but Richie picked it up nonetheless and his head snapped up. The sight he took in was to be expected but still extremely painful no matter what. Eddie seemed unable to let go of the doorknob, eyes watered to the point of boiling over. He slowly raised himself off the couch and made his way over. He gently reached out and unclasped Eddie’s hand for him which shocked the smaller man. “Let’s talk? Before you go.” He soothed. He then guided him inside.

The pair made themselves comfortable at the kitchen counter and stood their in silence for a few seconds. Eddie’s eyes dragged over the homework scattered around and couldn’t help but smile at the glass of Chocolate milk. It made Richie blush. 

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for being such an ass.” Richie swallowed under Eddie’s watchful, wide and watery eyes. “You…you were trying to be honest with me and I-….” 

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. I sprung this all on you and just expected you to….-Well, I don’t really know what I expected.” His shrug rolled flawlessly off his shoulders and they both let out a long sigh. 

“Ed’s, I don’t want our life together to start out like this-” Richie gestured between them, thinking of the strain lingering there for some time now. “So if this is what you want…-Something we need then it has to happen.” 

Eddie licked his lips and looked away briefly. “You should get out of Maine, Rich. You belong somewhere…big in personality.” He chuckled a little. 

“Correct you are, Eddie my boy-” Richie habitually grinned before letting it fall off his face. “This place…this school-” He gestured to the homework “They’re not where I should be…where we should be.” 

Richie and Eddie’s eyes met once more but both seemed far too nervous to keep the contact. Both opting to stare off somewhere else. “I was selfish to ask this to be a break-to ask you to wait for me…”

Richie stood up straighter and frowned. “Ed’s no-…I was stupid for threatening a breakup…”

The two of them stared each other down again, both barely holding it together. It was pathetic really-the two of them standing in the crappy kitchen with tears just streaming down their faces. “I want you to live, Rich. That good, fast life that’s meant for you. I don’t want you to be waiting for me-”

Richie remembered some Billy Joel song, it played far off in his head. ‘You’re only standing there 'cause somebody once did somebody wrong. But you’ll be sleeping with the television on…’

“I don’t know what to say…for the first time in my life, huh?” Richie pathetically giggled but choked it down when Eddie grew even more concerned. “So, we thinking a divorce…or…?” Richie tried to be falsely cheer but it only seemed to break him in the last possible way. He hiccuped and bent forward as a sob wrecked his body. Eddie ran to him, he always did so. 

And the two men stood in a shitty apartment kitchen and gripped tightly onto each other. Crying into Eddie’s shoulder or Richie’s chest. Whichever, didn’t really matter because soon that great option would be gone and anymore tears they shed would be coddled alone.

                                                    ~~~~~~~

After Eddie left the place, Richie completely broke down in his living room in a mirrored way to Eddie’s breakdown in Bill’s apartment…though it took them both around an hour to truly let it flow…at almost the exact same time…they broke… 

A small glass of perfume sat on a dresser in the guest room housing Eddie. It was the small and delicate glass with a large daisy stopper blocking any leakage.

It sat there, absolutely still, as a pair of hands quickly picked and pulled from the array of products sat around it. But with that speed came clumsiness and the hands just darted to fast on the pull-back of some papers and down came the bottle. Knocking it off the counter and revealing the ring of dust that had been living underneath it.

Eddie paused for a moment before peeking over the lip of the dresser to find the tiny bottle. The rounded broken piece was rolling just the slightest bit while the rest of the tiny shards bathed in the small puddle of the scent leaking out.

That perfume had once belonged to his mother, her favorite scent. He’d taken it with him upon leaving for school that first time because…it was a sort of comforting smell. Call it pathetic aromatherapy? It gave him a sense of her old coddling. Kneeling down, he intended to start cleaning the mess up but he hesitated. The tip of his finger laid frozen in the burgundy puddle as a wave of emotion fell upon him. He’d been holding back on truly coming to terms with what his mind and body ached for. But looking at the old shattered tie to his smothering mother on Bill’s hardwood floor…the gate was opened without his permission.

A flood of tears finally broke past his eyes again and rolled down his cheeks, the heat from his previous restrain could almost burn his skin. In an instant he was near hysterical. His breathing was rapid and short as it became harder for him to push-back the devastation. More then anything in his life he wanted to call Richie…he wanted him with him. But at the same time he was desperate to shove him away entirely and gain some damn independence…let Richie breathe.

The palm of his hand curled over his mouth in an attempt to block some of the sound from breaching the thin walls of Bill’s home. He did not want Bill to hear any bit of this breakdown, he didn’t need to see him so…sad. He was already taking him in until he got back on his feet and he didn’t need anymore stress so he just needed to be strong, he was usually extremely good at that. It was enough that he’d broken down when facing the love of his life. There’d be nothing more now.

A deep breath or two and he was off the floor and on his way to collect a dust-pan and broom.

But as always, Bill Denbrough seemed to sense the trouble and came to Eddie. 

‘Fuck’ that broke Eddie again. Bill took his second ‘little’ brother into his arms and they both swayed. Bill, who wasn’t scared of anything at all in the eyes of his best friends…feared for these two. He looked up, some of Eddie’s hair catching his eyes, and he hoped to anything that would listen that Richie and Eddie will work it out. The Losers Club had always just assumed they’d be together forever since they were little…just the same as they assumed it for Ben and Beverly when they found each other. 

Richie and Eddie were far too young to be going through a divorce.

                                                    ~~~~~~~

Richie curled up on his couch, going from mindlessly watching the Food Network to sleeping to the sound of ‘Friends’. His eyes burned from all the shitty crying and staring at his laptop screen. He’d even managed to get that homework done. But now he was at a loss. 

Part of him ached to call his parents. They’d know what to say but it gave him the same dread that calling up Stan would. 

If he came to them crying, it only further hammered in the point that they’d been right all along. Marrying your sweetheart in High School was a bad idea. Who knew? 

Richie was awakened by the sound of the buzzer. He shuffled out of bed and let whoever it was come up, hoping it was Mike. He was the best of em’ and he always had something kind to say even if you’d been in the wrong…Mike was always on your side. 

When the knocking came, Richie eagerly walked to the door and…

“Hey.” 

Stanley Uris hiked up a bag slung over his shoulder and smiled gently. Richie kinda wanted to throw up just the same as he wanted to hug him. “Big Bill told everyone, right?” Richie smirked and nodded to himself, bouncing on his feet. “Come to tell me how right you were-? Tell me that if i’d only listened to you this never would’ve happened-” 

Stan took the bag of his shoulder and set it near Richie’s feet. “You know me better than that, asshole.” He frowned but opened his arms wide. It was a sight that drove Richie back into his fucking tears. He fell into the arms of his friend and sobbed again and again until it was time to breathe. 

Stan rubbed a hand through his hair and tried to calm him. “You’re gonna be ok, Rich.” 

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So life went on the way it always does for The Losers Club. Best friends. Before the start of his Junior year, Richie decided to take a good ol’ road-trip down to California for a small summer taste of it all. With him, he took Michael Hanlon who desperately needed the break. 

But as life would have it, Mike returned to Maine alone. Richie’s summer taste turned into a full-on love affair that lead him to start the hectic process of transferring schools. 

Ben and Beverly waited until graduation but left for Chicago the instant it was over. Both of them had worked internships at offices for their respective career choices and earned themselves singing recommendations. 

Stanley Uris finished up in Vermont, meeting the loveliest girl in the process, Patty. And the two of them flooded off to Georgia where Stan was eerily 100% sure was the right place. And almost instantly, they seemed to fall into the dreamiest of job situations.

Michael went off to Florida. The place which had been calling him since he was young and became a full-time librarian at one of the finest library’s he’d ever set foot in. 

Bill continued with his writing and traveled to New York in the middle of his junior year which funnily enough was where Eddie had been drawn too as well. From there, Bill met and fell for a girl called Audra. 

As Eddie started work at a nice office for Risk Analysis, Richie got his dream job at a California Radio Station. 

There were plenty of visits, phone-calls and group-chats to keep the love flowing. Because after all, Losers stick together…

Even if a once couple…married couple…seemed to drift away from each other. After the divorce papers were signed…Richie&Eddie became Richie and Eddie. 

In desperate fear, they became the most distant of the bunch. Not with the others. No. Just each other. Which was truly devastating when everyone knew how much they loved each other.

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{December, Ten years later}

“-And a real famous cat all dressed up in red. And he spends the whole year workin’ out on his sled. It’s the little Saint Nick. Ooooo, little Saint Nick!”  

Richie Tozier turned right down the next small street and seemed to forget to use his blinker. He tapped his hands against the wheel as if it were his very own drum-set and chuckled to himself. Being back in Derry was certainly a trip. 

But with the Holiday’s, it came time for Ol’ Richie to visit the parents who were still cuddled up in their tiny-town home. Part of him was kind of excited to see the little stop-and-shop piece of shit town again. It’d been a solid couple of years since the last time he’d set foot on Derry’s fine streets. 

“She’s candy-apple red with a ski for a wheel. And when Santa hits the gas, man, just watch her peel-”

Richie hit the brake far harder than intended but the minor choking from the seat-belt was worth it. Right in perfect view was…damn Eddie Kaspbrak walking down the side-walk, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. The night air was a bitter kind of chill and snow was beginning to fall. Richie bit hard into the smirk now coming over his face. 

He pulled the car close to the curb and rolled the window down. Sticking his head out, he did his best cat-call whistle (not that he did that kinda thing-ha ha). Eddie did not spare a glance, just walked a little faster so- 

“HEY ASSHOLE!!” Richie laughed wildly, still cruising slowly. 

Eddie stopped in his tracks and snapped his head to the right, eyes widening almost instantly. “Dick! That you? Didn’t recognize you in that…” He glanced over the supremely nice car with something of wonder…wanting to get his hands all over it. “Sweet car, man.” Eddie strolled forward, Richie felt his chest tighten with joy. “What happened to ‘James Taylor’?” he pouted his lips and rested his hands on the open ledge of the window. 

“Ah, Ed’s my boy. You see….-” Richie tapped the mirror with charm and tried to hide his blush. “When you’re a successful as I am-” 

Eddie hunched over slightly in laughter, bringing their faces much closer together. So close that Richie thought he might lose what little cool he had. “Good to know you stayed just as humble as you used to be.” 

They chuckled together before Richie found himself astoundingly nervous again. “Your mom drag you back here for the Holiday’s?” 

Eddie licked his lips and nodded. “Something like that-” He rubbed his finger into the corner of his eyes. “My mom died, actually. I’m in town for the um-funeral arrangements and all that jazz, baby.” He pathetically waved his hands in a mock dance. It struck Richie as odd, it seemed like more of something that he’d do. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” He hoped to sound genuine which in part, he was. But there was that large part of distaste and hatred in his soul for Sonia that only had grown larger over the years. 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He looked away and shivered a little in the night air. “I was just taking a walk to clear my head.” 

“Wanna clear it in here?” Richie gestured to the empty passengers seat which was far from the picture of calm. The vehicle was decorated very closely to the way one’s home would be for the holidays. String lights around the ceiling and a Little Tree Freshener spun in fake toy-dollhouse lights hung over the rear-view mirror. It made Eddie unbelievably giddy. Such a Richie thing to do. 

“Oh definitely.” Good to know that they were still just as good at ignoring the issues in favor of the natural chemistry they had together. It was a charm that got them into a lot of trouble in the past. But Eddie didn’t mind, he walked around and hopped inside with excitement. 

Richie pulled off the curb and leaned over dangerously to open the glovebox where two Santa hats laid. “Wanna be go for matching?” 

“Oh, hell yeah. Obviously” Eddie shrugged with his toothy grin that Richie had always adored. So they sat in their seats…in red & white holiday hats…like a pair idiots. But Eddie just had to admire this long lost love of his. 

“I’m so proud of you, Rich.” Eddie let that comment slip and Richie blushed. “I watched that comedy special you did-”

“We did the right thing.” Richie interrupted Eddie no matter how hard it was to stop such a delightful giggle. His ex fell silent and time was passed in the company of the sound of the Christmas tunes and rolling tires on loud streets.

“Hey-” 

Eddie blinked up to find Richie pulling closer to the curb again and pointing. “That’s the um-that’s that bench where Bill totally flipped over on his bike. Remember? He was distracted-”

“By you and your impression of that cop. I remember.” Eddie giggled again and the tension was lifted once more. “If you go up the street a little…yeah-” 

Eddie snapped his fingers as Richie followed his direction, the bell at the end of his hat jingled. “That’s where I ran off to that night I pretended that I had to puke…” 

The park looked a little deserted and Richie had to laugh at the picture of his once boyfriend sprinting down the sidewalk, so tipsy.  

“Ben came and got me…” He looked towards the gazebo with love in his eyes. “He was really there for me that night.” He nodded and Richie decided to move on with this fun tour of Derry’s hot-spots. 

The two of them cruised past so many of the Losers Club’s old favorite places and shared everything attached to them again. 

They pulled down a lonesome street and found the sight of the drive-in root-beer place. It was still across the street from the abandoned 7/11 that used to be a CVS where no one had ever shopped. Except now, it was an open Walgreens. Both of them stared down the Drive-in….

“Still open…impressive.” Richie pulled onto the curb a bit and parked. He glanced at his friend who was now opening the car door and climbing out. “Oh, we’re going inside?” 

“Hell yeah.” Eddie leaned back down into the window, eyes wide and hoping. Richie was overcome with a great sense of joy. He shut the car off and followed the man of his dreams into the restaurant that held all their first date memories. 

                                                     ~~~~~~~

“Would it impress you to see me eat AND keep down my hot-dog dipped in the Root-Beer Float?” Richie asked, swirling his airborne dog in the open air over the sweet drink. 

Eddie giggled. “That’s disgusting. Please don’t do that for the sake of my entertainment.” 

Richie set down his dog and leaned back on the orange vinyl, thinking of Skip Larson’s flying homework assignments again. “Why did you give me that second date, Ed’s?” He asked, looking away and at his meal. 

Eddie slurped down some of his drink and grinned. “Easy. I was in love with you. No amount of vomit could change that.” 

Richie covered his grin with his cupped hand. “Thank you for doing what you did, Eddie-”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever feel good about hurting you like that, Richie. For us drifting apart like that. That shit keeps me up at night.” Eddie shook his head and Richie sighed because ‘yeah, that shit sucked’. He set his napkin down and strolled over to Eddie’s side of the booth. 

“The marriage was a mistake…” He nodded. “But you were never the mistake, Eddie.” He stared into his eyes with direct contact for the first time in a long while. It threw them both for a wild shake. “If we didn’t stop it when we did…” He shrugged. “We would have gotten too comfortable with the settling we were doing in Maine. It wouldn’t have worked out.” 

“I still feel like shit-” 

“Ok so, you feel like shit. But look at you, living a damn good life. You’re successful. You like your job-” 

“Love my job.” Eddie added because it was true. It was something he was heavily invested in. 

“Love your job. Got to New York, where you were meant to be…your soul place, I think. And hell, Eddie you’re so fucking independent. The guys talk about how proud they are all the time. I’m proud as shit too. A nice fuck you to Sonia Kaspbrak-” Richie paused, realizing how inappropriate that was considering. But Eddie only nodded in agreement. 

“A nice fuck you.” He repeated in confirmation. There was still some kind of love and there always would be but…he didn’t have to like her to love her. Maybe that was sad.

 “And I-…well, I got my radio show in California and it means so much to me, baby. We never…ever would have got that shit on the path we were stuck on. So yeah, we’ll feel like shit for losing these years but it’s better than the place we were all those years ago.” Richie threw his arm around Eddie and the smaller of the two sighed into it. “Now, I didn’t miss ya much myself-” Richie exaggerated his hand gestures. “BUT My parents, for one, missed you like crazy.” 

Eddie giggled. “How are the Toziers?” he asked, a new fry hanging slightly from his mouth. 

“Oh, my favorite old people are living it up. My mother and I have never had a better relationship, I swear on it. I talk to em’ like every other day. Just can’t get rid of them! Wentworth asks about you a lot if he’s not distracted by the other Losers which the ol’ Toziers begged me to ask them over for the Holiday’s last week.” Richie shrugged and Eddie realized just how much he missed Richie’s folks too. 

“I’m still so crazy about you.” Eddie spoke in soft wonderment and bit hard into his lip. 

“We’re in the same boat, babe.” Richie grinned. 

“Could you give me another chance, you think?” Eddie asked, still believing he deserved for Richie to be mad. “Forgive me?” He added, looking unbelievably nervous. 

Richie dunked the Hot-Dog in the float and grinned. “Eddie, my love, don’t ask such dumb questions.” He took a large chunk of the food and swallowed it down with his happy smile. “I said it before and I’ll say it forever, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Now please, come make-out with me in the bathroom?” 

Richie held out his hand which Eddie gladly accepted. They’d finally found their way back to each other and they couldn’t wait to share the news with their best friends. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #279

“she could kill you with a wink of her eye.”

Have you ever met a guy for coffee? No, I don’t like coffee. Do you feed your leftovers to your dogs? I don’t currently have any dogs, but when I did, it was very rare and (almost) only if he wasn’t begging for it. The only exception was chicken nuggets; Teddy loved him some chicken nuggets, holy shit. That and peanut butter he would always get so excited about. What tricks does your pet do? Neither my cat nor obviously my snake know any tricks. Do you believe in psychics? No. When you hear the name “Ginger” what do you think of? Jason’s fatass beagle. I wonder how she is a lot, she was a darling. What is the worst damage that your car has seen? N/A What was the last thing that annoyed you? Probably my chronic boredom. :’) How would your parents react if you got pregnant (or got someone pregnant)? Both would be extremely confused seeing as I’m not with a guy and absolutely do not want kids. Have you ever had a fight with your boyfriend/girlfriend’s mom or dad? Nope. Are you afraid of frogs? No, they’re Good. How would you react if a complete stranger complimented you? It depends on the compliment and how it’s delivered. If you sound genuine and it’s not creepy, it’s honestly really flattering and sweet, though I get really shy. Who was the last person to make you cry? Myself, technically, thinking too much about he who I shouldn’t, y’know. Do you have Facebook? I do. How would you react if you found out your crush had a terminal disease? God, I don’t want to think about this. I’d be absolutely crushed. Do you eat applesauce? I don’t go out of my way to get some, but sure, I like applesauce. What was the last pill you took for? It was one of my mood stabilizers. Are you in the hospital a lot? No, thankfully. What is your dentist’s first name, if you know it? I have no clue. Have you ever walked on the beach at night? Yes. Does your mother have any sisters? One. Do you read poetry/make it? I don’t really read it anymore, but once in five blue moons I’ll write one if I’m really inspired. Have you ever had braces? Yes, for way too long because we couldn’t afford to take them off. I think it’s why one of my bottom front teeth is angled back a bit. Your parents split; would you want to live with your mom or dad? My parents are divorced and I live(d) with my mom. Ever told your parents you were going somewhere but went somewhere else? To Mom, yes. My sisters and I were going to visit Dad and it was just easier back then to make something else up. Are you afraid of lifts? Elevators? Yes. Not terribly, but I’m not a fan. Who did you last talk to in person? Is that person attractive? My “other mom” Tobey; she brought me some groceries while Mom’s away. She’s Mom’s age though so no, I’m not attracted to her. She’s like family. Have you ever had a deep, personal conversation with a stranger? I mean, isn’t that therapy at first? lmao Let’s talk about the person you had your first kiss with. Do you still talk to that person? If so, do you still like them? Would you kiss them again? No; no, I like his memory; I fucking hope not. How many times have you cried over the person you love/like? A couple times. When was the last time you wanted to cry, but didn’t, because you didn’t want to show that you were upset? Why? I’m really not sure. What are three things that are guaranteed to make you smile, or put you in a good mood? Going on a car ride with me in shotgun to blare my music; seeing Mark laugh oh my FUCKING god; and seeing meerkats being cute. What is something in your life that you feel hopeful about right now? Nothing. What was the last thing you worried about that turned out better than expected? My first teletherapy appointment. What is a meal you eat extremely often? Or do your meals & food choices vary a lot? Chicken of some sort is very, very common. What was the last thing you changed your mind about? Ummm… good question. I know I have done this recently, I just can’t remember it… Who tends to show up in your dreams? Do you ever wonder if you appear in anyone else’s dreams? Jason is practically a staple. Mom is there a lot. And sure, doesn’t everyone? Instead of flat earth, what do you think of the simulated earth theory, that we’re basically all just a giant computer program or virtual reality? I think it’s possible, there really is some convincing evidence, but I lean more towards not believing it. What worries you most about your future? What the fuck I’m doing with my life. What is something you do to feel better when you’re scared? Deep breathing. Who do you feel you can count on the most in life? Is there anyone you wish you could count on more? Mom, and sure. When was the last time you shared a secret with someone, and how did they react? I’m not sure. Are you more likely to give advice or to ask for it? Give. What is the strangest book you have ever read? How did you find out about it? OH MY GOD, SUDDEN MEMORY. There was this book we read in elementary school about this kid who made everything he touched turn to chocolate and it was fuckin wild. Do you prefer to watch movies or tv alone or with other people? Is there anything you refuse to watch alone? Oh, absolutely with someone. Y’all know I don’t enjoy TV that much anyway. What was the subject of the last video you watched? I’m watching the VOD on-and-off of a WoW streamer I like. Who taught you the most valuable lesson in life and what was that lesson? Jason. Don’t let anyone but yourself become your main source of happiness and worth. Have you got perfect vision? Hell no. I’ve got glasses for a good reason. What colour is the door to your house? White. Would you prefer a pet rat, mouse, snake, lizard or spider? Snake. <3 Are you a good liar (tell the truth this time)? Yes. Do you like the smell of a barbecue or bonfire? Yeah, even though I hate barbecue itself. Do you think rainbows are pretty or overrated? Who the fuck thinks they’re “overrated”??? Rainbows are gorgeous. I think we can all agree on that. Are you more skeptical or gullible? Skeptical. How often do you drink sodas or fizzy drinks? LOLOL I DO NOT WANT TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION. Has anyone ever called you apathetic or unemotional? Considering I’m the polar opposite, no. Prefer being in control in a team environment, helping out, or taking orders? Help out. Do you like carrot cake? GIRL yes. Do you view animals as being just as important as people? Why or why not? Yes, because we have no greater right than them to be here. Hell, they’re probably more deserving with humanity’s selfishness. I’m aware as a meat eater there’s some hypocrisy here, buuut still in my heart I see them as just as valuable. What made you stop talking to the last person you cut out of your life? She made an absolutely infuriating, false assumption of my mother. Is there a situation or person you haven’t been able to get over/forgive? I’ve forgiven him. Forgetting’s a different story. What are you like during arguments? Regardless of the topic or severity, I will absolutely be fumbling over my words, stuttering, and find eye contact difficult. It’s definitely not rare that I’ll be crying. Where do you like to be kissed? WELL this depends on the mood y’know. What is more difficult for you, looking into someone’s eyes when you are telling someone how you feel, or looking into someone’s eyes when they are telling you how they feel? I dunno, both can be very hard. Think of the last time you were REALLY angry. WHY were you angry? Do you still feel the same way? It’s petty and I’d rather not give it the time of day. But I still am kind of angry, though I shouldn’t be. There is a fire in the back of the plane. You have enough time to make ONE phone call. Who do you call? What do you tell them? Why is this so oddly specific lol. But anyway, Mom, and that I love her. Would you rather be hurt by the one you trust the most or the one you love the most? The one I trust the most. Think of the last person who you know that died. You have the chance to give them one hour of life back, but you have to give up one year of yours. Do you do it? Why or why not? No, because she was miserable. When was the last time you told someone HONESTLY how you felt regardless of how difficult it was for you to say? Who was it? What did you have to tell the person? I don’t know. What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up? Why would it be hard to lose? Sara. Her friendship means a fucking lot to me. Excluding romantic love, when was the last time you told someone you loved them. Who were they to you? Yesterday to my mom. Are you old fashioned? HA, definitely not. Have you ever gone up to a car thinking it was yours and tried to get in it? Oh my god yes. What’s your most irrational fear? There are plenty of them that I have. Whale sharks lmao. Musicals: yay or nay? I can’t help it, they’re always cheesy to me. Do you play the games on MySpace/Facebook? No. When was the last time you were sunburnt? A few years ago when I went to the beach with Colleen and her fam. It was actually to the point of being sun poisoning. No words for how painful that shit was. How many times have you re-pierced a piercing yourself? Never have, never would. I’m trusting a professional with that. What’s your favorite band? Ozzy Osbourne, of course. :’) How often do you pray? Never. Have you ever hugged someone for over a minute? Yeah. Would you ever get a tattoo on your collarbone? I already have one but am getting it covered with something else eventually. It just doesn’t really apply to me. Do you wake up cranky? Not usually; I’m usually in my best mood in the morning. Are you an official couple with the last person you kissed? No. Who was the last person to hold your hand? I don’t recall. What do you miss most about your ex? Define which ex. Are you attracted to the last person that kissed you? Yeah. Do you and your last ex hate each other? We’re best friends lmao. Have you ever regretted kissing someone? Yes. Are you faster at text messaging or typing on the computer? Absolutely typing on the computer. I make typos while texting too much. Has anybody ever told somebody one of your secrets? Probably. Have you ever kissed anybody who had a mustache? Yes If you were famous do you think you could handle the popularity? Nooooo no no. Have your parents ever told you about their love lives, and any previous relationships they had before they met? I’ve heard small stories about past relationships. Do you know anyone that’s gotten an abortion before? Yes. Have you ever been arrested? No. Who’s the last person that gave you roses? Tyler. Who’s the last guy you texted? My dad. What about the last girl? Sara. When was your first real relationship? From age 15 to 19-ish. Have you ever cried over an ex? I have PTSD stemming from one of them so guess lmao. Do you ever think about your ex and cry? ^ Have you ever cussed someone out? I remember one occasion at my sister’s stupid fucking ex. What’s the most trouble you’ve ever gotten in with your parents? Hm, not sure. Is there something really bad that you’ve done, that only YOU know about? No. Do you have a lot of secrets? Not really. Have you ever made out with someone who was just a friend? No. Have you ever told someone’s deep, dark secret? No. “Your secret it safe with me” is something I’m hardcore about. Have you ever pushed someone into a pool? I don’t think so, no. Do you have a super-secret hiding place and what’s in it? No. Have you ever you shop lifted? No. What state (or country) do you live in? North Carolina. Are you listening to music right now? Yes; 3TEETH's cover of "Pumped Up Kicks." I have fallen in LOVE with them. What is your newest favorite website? I don’t think I’ve really had a “new” favorite website in like eons. Do you have embarrassing memories of stupid things you've done? You have no fucking idea. I still remember things that embarrassed me in pre-k. What was the last thing you cooked on the stove? Scrambled eggs, I’m sure. What color Christmas tree do you want when you have a house someday? BLACK. BLACK WITH FAUX SNOW. How fucking gorgeous would that be??? Have you ever had to use an epi pen? No. Do you know the names of 3 of your neighbors? No. I only know the name of one. What was the last thing you cooked that you burnt or cooked for too long? I’m unsure. If you could have a car in any color, which color would you choose? ANY color? Pink. What was the last grocery store you shopped at? Walmart. What was the last type of milk you drank? 2%. Do you plan to vote in the next election? Yes. I believe silence speaks for the evil in situations like this, and I’m done doing that. Thooouuugh I gotta educate myself on the candidates… What was the last act of creativity you displayed? Writing. What is the last thing you charged? My laptop. Who was the last person to upload a picture with you in it? I don’t know, been a long time. Do you like peas? NOOOOOOOOO. It’s funny, according to Mom, I loooved peas as a baby, but now I’m just like… can’t relate. Do you ever wear sleep masks when you sleep or shower caps when you shower? No. Which friend are you most similar to? Sara and I are very similar. Your ex calls wanting to hang out. What do you say? Well Sara is many states away so like,,,, we can’t unless I wanna buy a plane ticket lmao. If it was Jason, I pretty much know I’d say yes like a fucking idiot. If it was Girt, it’d be a yeah, we haven’t hung out in forever. Do you have alcohol in your house? No. Have you or anyone you know been to rehab? I’m sure someone has. Have you ever swung on a tire swing? I think I have at least once. What’s a discontinued product you wish they still made? Damn, I know there are some, but they’re not coming to me. Have you ever been involved in Facebook drama? Yes. Actually told a motherfucker off a few days back that claimed there was “something wrong” with Breonna Taylor and her death was justifiable. I. Went. The fuck. Off. Then everyone joined in. :D Do you have anything against women who choose to be stay-at-home-mothers? No?????? The fuck?????????? Have you ever kissed someone with a beard? Not a lengthy one. What gaming consoles do you own? PS2, Wii, GameBoy Advance, Nintendo DS Lite, my laptop, and uhhh I think that’s it. Have you ever been so sick you had to be taken to the hospital? Well, mentally sick. Do you know any lesbian couples? Yes. Did your parents monitor your internet usage when you were a teen? Yes. Well, Mom did. Is there anything in the USB key slots in your computer/laptop? Yes, the thing that communicates with my wireless mouse. What advertisements are on your screen at the moment? None. Was there ever a time when you felt absolutely terrified? If so, why? I can’t describe how terrified I was the night of the breakup. It felt so unreal, and I was so certain my life was over. Then there was an occasion where my dad picked my sister and me up from school and he was in an AWFUL mood; he was speeding like a motherfucker and running red lights. I absolutely thought a we were going to get in a wreck or die. Then I have anxiety and have experienced panic attacks, so… guess lmao. Who’s one person who changed how you viewed something? One of the most profound in my life is actually Rhett and Link as well as Hannah Hart. When I started watching GMM, I was actually still homophobic, but gradually I started to ship the fuck out of those angel boys despite it. I started questioning my viewpoint, and finally, on their podcast where Hannah was the guest, telling her personal LGBT story, it just clicked how disgustingly wrong I was. When was the last time you went to a bar? I’ve never been to one. Why did you last see the doctor? I’m going to assume you mean a doctor for physical reasons, in which case I went in to talk about if I qualified for a sleep study regarding my nightmares, only to be told that because my actual doctor was absent, she could do nothing. Sooo Mom and I walked in pretty much just to pay someone to say “wait.” How do you spend the majority of your free time? Something on the computer, I’m sure. Lately, what I’ve been doing most is playing WoW while watching/listening to something. List the cards in your wallet. I don’t care enough to look. Not a lot. What was the last thing to inspire you? Ummm idk. How has COVID affected you? It really hasn’t, other than giving me anxiety regarding my mom as she is in the “of most concern” demographic, if you will. We don’t know if her cancer is gone yet due to the whole emergency trip to NY. But yeah, I personally leave the house like… never, so my daily life hasn’t really had any deviations. What is a comfort show of yours? Hm. I share enough that I’m not a TV person, so I don’t really seek out a show when I need comfort. But I guess if I was sitting there with the remote and I was really down, I’d be happy to find That ‘70s Show. Do you think we were put on this earth for a reason? As I believe *some* sort of greater intelligence is responsible for the universe, I like to think so. But if not, make your own reason. What is something you have done this year you’re proud of? I’ve been home alone for over a month now and am somehow doing okay, taking care of the house and myself. Animal Crossing , yay or nay? I’ve never played it. Not of my interest in games. Do you think breaks are toxic in a relationship? “Breaks” are bullshit. You’re either together or you’re not.