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babymetaldoll · 3 years ago

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DIWK - Chapter ten: "Set me free my honey bee"

Word count: 11,6K

Summary: Let's jump 19 months in time and see how painful it has turned for reader and Spencer to hide their feelings for each other. JJ leaves the team, and a new member joins the BAU.

Warnings: Angst and hurt. Fools being assholes. Cursing, of course. Mention of CM cases and spoilers on S06E11.

A/N: Please don't hate me. Just remember things usually look like the shit before they get worst, and then everything is better. I hope.

Masterlist

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(Y/N)'s point of view

Time is a weird thing. I remember when I was in school and time didn't pass fast enough. Semesters were eternal. It felt it had been years by the time summer vacation arrived. The complete opposite happened to me at the BAU. Suddenly, time passed too quickly. A whole year and a half went by in the blink of an eye.

I told Spencer about it, and he sent me a paper published by Professor Adrian Bejan that presented an argument based on the physics of neural signal processing. He hypothesizes that, over time, the rate at which we process visual information slows down, and this is what makes time 'speed up' as we grow older.

My answer was that I thought it happened 'cos as we grew older, we did things that actually gave us joy, which made us feel the time was passing faster than before. So we argued a whole Saturday afternoon about it and created our own theories for that event.

My theory was my personal favorite, 'cos it was the only one that could easily explain why so much time had passed in the BAU, and it felt like it had been just a few weeks.

It hadn't been easy, though. Those nineteen months had been filled with some of the worst situations we had been through as a team.

After I got shot, JJ finally admitted her relationship with Will and got pregnant. That was shocking, the first BAU baby: Henry.

Sadly, Henry was the only little good thing that happened that year. Because to sum it up, a bunch of awful shit happened to all of us: Hotch was in a car explosion that almost killed him. Spencer and Prentiss got trapped in an undercover mission into an underground cult to investigate child abuse, and Emily was beaten up pretty badly. Also, Spencer got infected with anthrax and nearly died. That was probably the most agonizing moment I had lived since the whole Tobias Hankel situation two years earlier.

Also, that year Prentiss had to investigate the case of the death of one of her best friends, and I was in a pretty nasty fight with an unsub that got me out of the field for three weeks. Not to mention, Spencer was shot in the leg.

Hotch was stabbed by the only unsub that has actually won against the BAU: Foyet. He attacked Aaron and got on the lose for months, but we all knew his next move as torture Hotch's family. That's why his ex-wife Haley and his little son Jack had to go into protective custody, and he couldn't see them for months while we tried to catch Foyet.

Things didn't go as planned. And without a doubt, the worst moment that year was the day Haley died. Foyet killed her, and Aaron lost it. He literally killed him with his bare hands the moment he got him. For a solid week, I was sure Aaron Hotchner wouldn't be the unit chief anymore. Strauss actually opened an investigation related to everything that happened that day. But in the end, somehow, she understood the "bloodbath" that had happened in that house was all in Foyet's hands.

However, there's no way to deny that the whole team had changed in many ways after that year. The concept of being a family was now more present than ever. After chasing Foyet for months, we were all onto him as if he was chasing our own family, because he was.

You don't work this kind of job with a team like mine and don't get attached to them. And this goes beyond how in love I was with Spencer. The (Y/N) who first stepped into the BAU, scared to show her true self, was long gone. And despite my deepest fears, letting them in and showing them who I really was had been one of the smartest decisions I have ever made.

Do you want to know which was my stupidest decision? Falling in love with Spencer Reid. It hadn't actually been my choice. I just didn't fight the feeling either. I don't think I could have even if I tried, though. Those nineteen months brought us so close, my mom thought we were living together, and the teasing from our friends was so common we weren't even affected by it.

For Christ Sakes, even Strauss thought we were dating! She forced us to attend a seminar on fraternization, concerned after she realized we always took our vacation together. We had a lot of fun trips, though. First, we visited his mom and had an amazing weekend in Las Vegas. Then we took a few days off after the anthrax incident and went to Hawaii. Picture Spencer Reid in an "all-inclusive," drinking all the coffee and eating all the pastries possible while reading a million books underneath an extra-large umbrella. We had fun that week, did some local touring, but most of all, sleeping in and relaxing. Spencer hates the beach but got those tickets anyway.

Did everybody think we were a couple? Yes

Did it help that we shared rooms, 'cos we were already used to it? No

Did it feel like a honeymoon without sex? Yes

Could I stop thinking about sex with Spencer? No.

And all that led us to the nightmare our relationship was going to become.

Penelope Garcia was drunk. She kept pouring shots and pushing them to us. Emily was wasted as well. But she kept acting like the classy lady she is. Not like JJ. My poor baby had mascara smeared under her eyes after crying for like an hour.

We found out she was leaving the team, and it was a hard blow on us. And by hard, I mean the worst thing that had ever happened to us. We had suffered without JJ when she was on maternity leave. And we struggled without her. Now knowing the Pentagon had taken her away from the BAU was torture.

We had a goodbye party for her at Rossi's, but this was our goodbye girl's night, and neither of us was holding anything back.

We had cried, we had sung sad songs. We drank all the champagne, wine, and vodka we could find. And now, holding our tequila shots, we knew it was time to call it a night.

- "I just love you girls so much,"- JJ whispered, crying- I don't wanna work without you.

- "Boo, come here!!"- I opened my arms and wrapped them around my friend, kissing the top of her hair a few times- "I love you too, and you are going to come back so soon you won't have time to miss us. You'll see. Papa Rossi and Dada Hotch are gonna fix everything."

I was drunk. Seriously drunk. But that wasn't the reason why I was so sweet with JJ. The truth is, I was broken-hearted. Like Penelope and Reid, I didn't manage change very well, and the fact that JJ was forced to leave made me feel frustrated and mad. But most of all, it made me think of every time I had been a little bitch with her during the years. And I regretted each one of them.

- "And we won't be far!"- Emily added and caressed JJ's arm, smiling kindly- "You will still be in town, and we will not leave you alone"- JJ chuckled and nodded.

- "I know, girls. Shit, I love you all so much!"

- "We love you too!"- Penelope sobbed and moved closer, wrapping the three of us in her arms.

- "Please, take care!"- JJ wiped off the tears from her eyes and looked at us- "Emily, don't do anything stupid! Don't rush in the field, and please don't take your fucking vest off!!"

- "I won't! I promise!"

- "You have to live to be Unit chief one day!"- JJ added, and Prentiss widened her eyes, shocked.

- "That's not really my gold."

- "But you'd be queen, baby!!"- Jareau added and turned to Penelope- "And you, please make sure Hotch eats. I kept a stack of granola bars on my desk to keep him fueled during the day. He usually forgets lunchtime and skips dinner, so..."

- "Don't worry, JJ,"- Penelope nodded, and we all felt our heartbreak a little thinking about all the things JJ did in her daily basics to take care of the team, and we didn't even know.

- "How are we going to survive without you?"- I mumbled, pouting. JJ chuckled and held my hand.

- "You are a rock, and you will do a fantastic job keeping this team together. Just, please, can you and Spencer start dating now?"

I wide opened my eyes and stared at JJ. The comment surprised me. I shouldn't, 'cos the whole "you and Spencer should start dating" joke was getting old. Only this time, JJ wasn't joking. She held both my hands and looked right into my eyes.

- "(Y/N), he loves you"- I was about to argue with her, but she covered my mouth with her Cheetos smelling hand.

- "Don't say a word! Spencer loves you so much you really must be blind not to see it. And I know you love him too. It's implied in all the little things you do for him every day. So don't take it for granted. Don't think this will last forever 'cos look at me! A week ago, I was happily working at the BAU, and now I'm drinking at my goodbye party! So don't waste any more time! You are in love with Spencer, and he loves you! It doesn't take a profiler to see it. So please! Act on it!"

There was a dramatic silence after. I didn't know how to break it. I could just joke around, but somehow, it didn't feel right. It had been too quiet for too long, and that made everything harder to deny. Finally, Emily put her hand on mine, just like JJ was still doing, and smiled at me.

- "There's nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/N). You are not the first person to fall for her best friend."

- "And the Junior G Man loves you so much,"- Penelope added, landing her hand on our hands too.

- "As his friend"- I corrected and sighed. I guess that was it. After three years, I could probably start facing my feelings in front of my friends.

- "No, (Y/N)"- Garcia tried to argue, but I shook my head and stood up, 'cos all that sudden attention and affection was bothering me.

- "PG, I was in Hawaii with the man, sharing a room, walking around in a bikini, and he didn't do anything."

- "That's because he is shy!"- Emily excused him right away.

- "My bikini leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. Do you know what he said when he first saw me on it?"- I looked at my friend and poured us another round of tequila- "And I quote, "I don't think I brought enough books. This one is too interesting."

I air quoted with my fingers as we spoke, and the three of them looked at me, speechless. I made my point and drank my shot, feeling the alcohol burning down my throat. My friends opened their mouths but didn't produce a word. I sighed and looked at them.

- "But he hates the beach, and he took you there anyway,"- Emily pointed out

- "Did he give you his speech about how he hates sandy food?"- JJ asked me, and I chuckled, nodding.

- "And about pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, and of course, the real reason he hates the beach: drug-resistant bacteria spread by seagull feces."

- "And the man took you to the beach!"- Penelope argued.

- "But he didn't do anything! he didn't make his move, didn't even hold my hand!!"- I nearly shouted- "That's why, among a lot of reasons, is how I know Spencer is not interested in me! If only I'd tell you all the shit we've been through!"

- "Please!! Tell us!!"- Garcia begged and grabbed one of my legs- "I won't live another day 'cos I won't be able to deal with the mystery!"

- "No! 'cos you are gonna tell Morgan"- I slurred- "And he is going to embarrass and tease my honey bunny, and my honey bunny is gonna get all nervous and nervous around me, and we are never going to..."- I stopped talking and looked at my friends. I was sharing too much.

- "(Y/N)?"- Prentiss looked at me, but I just shook my head and looked down.

- "I think I better go home."

- "No, you can't drive like this,"- JJ argued immediately and held my hand- "I'm not gonna let you go intoxicated. Will is gonna come pick me up, and we'll drop you in your place."

I nodded at her and stayed still. My friends smiled at me, and slowly very slowly, I leaned on JJ's shoulder and rested my head on it.

- "I love you, boo,"- I whispered, and she giggled- "I don't think I'll stay sane without you there with us anymore."

- "Hotch is gonna manage to get her back,"- Penelope assured me, and I just nodded.

- "Meanwhile, we won't replace you, and if anyone tries to push someone new into the team, we are not gonna take them,"- I added, feeling JJ's hand holding mine.

- "Don't be mean with people just 'cos you miss me. If there's a new teammate, it won't be their fault I was pushed out of the BAU."

- "But, JJ,"- I tried to argue, but she shook her head right away.

- "No, (Y/N). You can't be mean to people just because."

Clearly, my friend hoped I could be the better person. The simple question was: did I want to be the better person? Right there, drunk and sad, the answer was no.

Spencer's point of view

I kept finding myself awake at four in the morning, walking around my apartment, not able to read or to write anything. For the last months, at least twice or three times each week, I would stay awake, no matter how tired I felt, and I would haunt my own apartment, listening to my vinyl records.

The sudden lack of sleep wasn't really something weird in me. I have always been nocturnal. Besides, the news of JJ's departure had hit us all pretty hard. I had already shared my share of tears and tried to manage the fury that caused me to know we were helpless to the government's decisions. There was nothing we could do, neither us, Hotch, or even Strauss. Not that she would if she could.

My family was in crisis, and all we could do was hope for the best and stay together.

It was scary losing JJ. It made me think of all the things that could go wrong every day on the field daily. It was bad that we could get hurt or even die on our work. But that they divided us that way made no sense. Like Rossi said: our loss was someone else's winning, and in the FBI, no one cared if we lost.

I poured myself a cup of herbal tea and inhaled the smell of it. It smelled like home. Like (Y/N). She had some of her favorite teas in my apartment. She had a bunch of all her things there, actually. When mom visited, she thought we were living together. She is still sure we are dating and that I don't wanna tell her. I don't longer argue with her about it. It's useless, and it somehow feels good to imagine in another world. It was actually true.

That year my feelings for my best friend had grown in a way that made it all more difficult to deal with. I didn't just love her. I was in love with her. She was in everything I did, in each and every one of my thoughts. I could hear her laughter in my head, like a record playing my favorite song over and over again.

When she was out there in the field, I couldn't stop running all the probabilities of her getting hurt, and most of the time, I would do my best to keep her safe, knowing it could somehow interfere with the case.

Hotch had called me to his office a few times, aware something was going with me. He could read it on my face, I guess. It was scary to know everybody could read my feelings for (Y/N) but her. And it was sad to think of the worst: that she knew how much I loved her, but she didn't feel the same, and she was just being my friend 'cos she was never going to be anything else but my friend.

I drank my tea and hummed the song that sounded in my house at four in the morning: Love is a losing game. Seemed pretty accurate for my mood. I remember the day I got that vinyl. We were out with (Y/N), Frank, and Lu, looking for a present for Mikey's birthday, and we ended up in a record store, getting a million vinyl records for ourselves.

- "Are you getting all those?"- (Y/N) asked me and looked at the seven albums in my hand.

- "Yes, why? I can't?"- I answered and raised an eyebrow.

- "Sassy!"- she giggled and grabbed them- "You can get all the albums you want. But I have to give my approval first. No, you are not getting this!"- she grabbed The Beatles' Revolver and left it aside.

- "What? Why? It's only one I need to complete my collection."

- "I know, but when you get it, you'll force me to listen to it, and I don't like the Beatles,"- she argued, and I just shook my head, taking the album again.

- "Sorry, chipmunk, I'm buying it."

- "Fine. I won't go to your house for the next couple of weeks then."

- "Why don't you tell me which album you wanna listen to when you are in my house then?"- I looked at her, smiling at me and looking for a record on the shelves.

- "This! You need some Amy in your life."

And I did. Now, at four in the morning, all alone walking around, I could see her in my apartment, singing along to her favorite songs while cooking dinner, feeling at home. I wished she was there, with me, doing nothing. Watching tv, or reading. Just hanging out. I knew it wasn't healthy being in love with my friend, seeing her every day, and also hanging out with her every chance I got. But even when I knew she was never going to love me the way I did, I was going to take every chance I had to enjoy her company. If that was all I was going to get.

My phone took me from my thoughts, and I quickly walked to my room to get it. I thought it was Hotch announcing a case, but it was JJ.

- "Hey! JJ, everything ok? Is Henry ok?"

- "Yes, hi Spence. We are all ok."

- "It's four in the morning."

- "Sorry I woke you up... I just..." - she made a pause and sighed at the other side of the line- "Spencer, you know I love you."

- "I love you too. You are one of my best friends. Is everything ok?"

- "Yes, I just wanted to... remember a bunch of years ago, when you asked me to that football game?"

A million years had passed since the one and only time I had asked JJ out. It was the only move I tried to do on her, and I failed incredibly. It was awkward, and she had no idea it was a date, so she invited Garcia to come along. I was so embarrassed I never even mentioned that single event ever again, and our friendship grew after.

- "Yes, I remember, JJ. Why?"

- "When you asked me out, did you have a crush on me?"

- "JJ, are you drunk?"- I had to ask 'cos that conversation was starting to scare me.

- "Yes, but that's not why I'm talking about this. Just answer the questions, Spence. When you asked me out on that date, did you have a crush on me?"

- "Yes, I did."

I closed my eyes, embarrassed to face feelings that were far forgotten.

- "You see, I had a crush on you too back then,"- JJ said and chuckled- "But neither of us acted on it, and life continued, and now I'm in love with Will, and we have a baby, and you are his godfather."

Of all the things I thought I would listen to that day, never in a million years, I imagined I would hear JJ drunk telling me she had a crush on me when we first met.

- "Now, do you want that to happen again?"- she asked, and I didn't get it, 'cos I was still trying to process what I had just heard. So I might have had a relationship with her if only I had said something, act on it. Kiss her, ask her out again?

- "What?"

- "Spence. Do you want to miss the chance to be with the girl you like?"

- "No, but JJ, what are you talking about?"

She sighed, frustrated, and used that tone of voice with me, that very maternal specific tone of voice she used to explain things she knew were hard for me to follow.

- "When you like someone, Spence, you have to tell her. 'Cos sometimes, life gets in the way, and if you don't do what you have to do to be happy, no one will do it for you."

- "Are you ok, JJ?"

- "Yes, Spence, I'm ok. I'm home with Will. We just got here after dropping (Y/N) off her place."

- "How was she?"

- "She might have had a few too many drinks, but she'll be ok in the morning. Maybe she'd appreciate it if you brought her coffee and donuts."

- "She doesn't like donuts,"- I corrected her- "She likes cupcakes and brownies."

- "Sorry. Coffee and cupcakes... just tell her you love her, Spence. She deserves to know."

I held my breath and closed my eyes. I didn't get why JJ was telling me that, but I knew I didn't want to talk about it. So I said good night and hung up.

What was the point of telling me we could have been a couple of years had passed already? Why didn't she say a thing before? Or even better, why didn't she ever say a word about it at all? So I missed the chance to be happy with her. Great. One more regret to add to my list.

I laid on my bed and tried to remember that date. I was so nervous that day, my hands shook inside my pockets as I walked to JJ's door. She looked beautiful that day, especially when she looked at me and announced she had invited Penelope to join us.

That was when I realized she would never see me as a proper date, just like a friend. And I learned to make my peace with that over the years. My crush for JJ lasted a few more months, but it vanished when I fell for (Y/N). What if she had never joined the team? Would I have been in love with JJ forever? Jeniffer always made me feel like her little brother, and I guess that's the mechanic that works for us. We were good friends ever since we met, and yes, I had a crush on her, but we work more like siblings than anything else.

What was the point in telling me I had missed a chance with her now? I just couldn't see it.

(Y/N)'s point of view

The next few weeks were us trying to survive without JJ. The team was making the best it could, but it was hard. Penelope took the lead during the second case without JJ. She turned into our tech analyst and communication liaison, only to collapse under the pressure of having two roles.

No one was going to replace JJ. We all knew it. Literally, no one, 'cos Hotch decided he and Garcia were going to split the job, and we were all going to collaborate as much as we could, 'cos we were a team. A family. And that's what families do.

And families were the target of the unsub we were hunting the day everything changed. Again. I hadn't recovered from the departure of JJ when Rossi and Hotch walked to the bullpen and introduced us to Agent Trainee Ashley Seaver.

My nemesis.

- "Agent trainee Seaver"- Rossi smiled at her like a proud father and looked at us as we stood up, wondering who she was- "Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss, (Y/L/N), and Morgan."

- "I've heard so much about the three of you,"- she said with the sweetest tone of voice I had ever heard. Something about that felt odd.

- "I hope it is all good- Morgan flirted right away, of course."

- "Very, sir."

- "Anything specific? I mean about me in particular?"- I turned to him and failed in holding back my chuckles.

- "Please, don't encourage him, or he will never stop talking,"- I said, and Derek elbowed me playfully. Seaver smiled at us and even blushed a little bit. She was nervous.

- "Agent Seaver is on loan to us from the academy while she is remedial training with an injury."

Hotch announced. And my stomach tightened right away. There was something wrong with that whole scene. I could feel it in my guts. But I didn't know why?

- "Concussion. Hand to hand got a little out of control."- Seaver explained and kept a silly smile on her face.

- "How's the other guy?"- Prentiss asked.

- "Don't ask."

- "I was remediated in the academy also,"- Spencer said, walking over us, and suddenly I understood why I had a bad feeling about everything.

- "Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid."

As soon as I heard Rossi say those words, there was a part of me who just wanted to hold Spencer's hand and push him away from her, even before they could say hi. She looked at him like he was eye candy, and I clenched my knuckles as I stared at the scene.

- "Uhm... What was your issue?"- she asked him, and I could see the pink on her cheek intensifying as he looked at her, confused.

- "What was my issue? Marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's alley. You know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically book related. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field."

Seaver stared at him and kept nodding, though I wondered if she was listening to what he had said. Spencer looked exceedingly handsome that day. His hair was very short for the first time in years, and he still had no idea how to comb it, so it was all over the place, making him look as hot as fuck.

I was so in love with him, I didn't know what to do with those feelings at all. It was hard working with Reid at that point. I just wanted to kiss him.

- "Agent Seaver's going to accompany us to New Mexico,"- Aaron announced, and I couldn't help but question him right away.

- "She is?"

- "As a consultant."- he assured me.

- "On?"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Hotch, wondering what a trainee agent could help us with as a consultant.

- "She has a unique perspective,"- Rossi tried to explain, but it sounded like bullshit.

- "They don't know?"- Seaver turned to the elderly agents, and they shook their heads.

- "Well, we weren't sure how you wanted to,"- David whispered.

- "Uh... Seaver's not my original last name. It's my mother's maiden name. Mine used to be Beauchamp. My father is Charles Beauchamp"- Ashley was supposed to explain the circumstances of her consultancy to the whole team, but she just looked at Spencer as she spoke.

- "As in the Redmond ripper, Charles Beauchamp?"- he asked her, and suddenly, it clicked. It was like my whole body was telling me I couldn't be close to her for a reason.

- "That's him,"- she whispered and kept her eyes on my best friend as he continued talking.

- "He killed 25 women over 10 years in rural North Dakota. I think that you caught him, right, Rossi?"- and David nodded.

- "Hotch was on that team, too."

- "Based on her life experience, we were hoping that agent Seaver might recognize something in the family dynamics inside the community that could be helpful. We have a plane waiting,"- Hotch announced and looked at us, but none of us said a word.

I kept my eyes glued at my feet the whole time Aaron talked. Then, Spencer nodded and walked with Seaver and Rossi out to the hangar. I couldn't even blink. I think I was in shock.

- "Her father was a serial killer?"- Prentiss asked Hotch, not getting what he was thinking.

- "That's definitely a different set of parameters,"- Morgan added. Neither of them was sold on the idea, which made me feel a little bit better.

- "I don't want her presence to get us sidetracked. It's a long shot that she's gonna see anything helpful. We work it like any other case,"- Hotch was clear, and Prentiss and Morgan nodded.

- "You got it."

But I disagreed with that.

- "(Y/N), is everything ok?"- Aaron asked me, and I tried my best to lie and be cool.

- "Yeah, I'm ok."

- "Ok. We work this like any other case. Wheels up in twenty."

But everything was far from being ok.

I sat next to Spencer on the jet, and we reviewed the case files together. Hotch briefed us, and we all pretended it wasn't weird having Seaver there. And I guess we had to pretend it wasn't odd knowing her dad was a serial killer.

- "You are very young, (Y/N),"- she said and smiled at me. She was sitting across from Spencer and me, and you could tell she had been trying to join the conversation for a few minutes now.

-" Twenty eight,"- I answered and looked at the files again.

- "And you, doctor?"

- "You can call me Reid. I'm twenty eight too,"- Spencer cut her a short, awkward, and nervous smile, and I turned to him.

- "Honey, did I leave my Mets jersey at your house?"- it was the only question that came to my mind at that minute. It was completely random, but somehow it showed a part of our dynamic that Ashley didn't know. Our friendship. Our closeness.

- "Yes, I found it last night,"- he answered and sipped his coffee- "I was gonna bring it over, but then I remembered you always borrow all my sweaters when you are home or when you stay over, so I thought maybe it was a good idea to keep it at my place."

- "I don't know, Batsy. It's my favorite sweatshirt- I raised an eyebrow, and I'm pretty sure I even flirted a little bit."

- "So? You need to keep one there."

- "But I like wearing your clothes when we are at your place. It's extra large and extra comfy."

- "Is that why you keep taking my sweaters back to your house?"- he asked and chuckled- "Last Sunday, I found four of my sweaters in your closet."

- "Sorry, I'm not even sorry,"- I said and laughed- "And what were you doing in my closet?"

- "Lucy, Ricky, can we focus on the case?"- Morgan asked and waved at us with one silly grin on his face- "We love hearing your adorable daily adventures, but we've got a psycho killer to catch."

Spencer blushed and flustered right away. I stuck out my tongue at Morgan and just shook my head. The way Seaver looked at Reid was still driving me nuts, but I felt I had shown her he was mine, childishly.

It's embarrassing to think that's not the most childish thing I did around her those days. Or in the weeks to follow. But I didn't like Ashley, and I didn't want her around my team. And it wasn't just her constant flirting with Spencer. It was the fact her father had killed my mother's sister when she was in college, and I was making my best effort to keep that fact aside from work. My personal life had to stay out of the FBI, especially when working a case.

I had to do some serious mental work trying to remember it wasn't Ashley's fault her father was a sick bastard. She hadn't hurt my family, and her father had ruined her life too. It wasn't her fault.

But one thing is knowing. Another thing is being rational about it. Spoiler: I wasn't so rational about it.

- "So, (Y/N). Do you like working at the BAU?"- Ashley asked me and looked at me through the rearview mirror. We were in the SUV, and Prentiss was driving. I was in the back seat, trying to ignore her, but she made it impossible.

- "Yes, very much,"- I answered and nodded, not taking my eyes from the window.

- "Everybody is very friendly,"- Seaver added and made a pause. I don't know if she wanted me to say something or if she was trying to find a way to say what she wanted to say.

- "Yes, they are,"- I humored her, and she quickly responded.

- "Are you and Spencer dating?"- I could feel the blood raising my cheeks as she spoke. And Prentiss flashed me a look through the mirror as Ashley continued talking.

- "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I just wondered because of the fraternization policy."

- "Right. Sure. Of course."

Those three words were meant to let Ashley know I wasn't buying her bullshit, So I literally spit them.

- "Spencer is my best friend. We are not dating."

Facing that simple truth had never been harder before, especially after how I saw Ashley's face light up.

- "You just seem to be so close."

- "Oh, they are close,"- Emily smiled at me and winked- "They are so close, they sometimes freak us out."

- "We freak you out?"- I raised an eyebrow and carefully hit her arm, pretending to be upset. But honestly, I was glad she was teasing me.

- "I am just saying, we are all pretty suspicious about you two. I am actually surprised you didn't share rooms tonight. They usually share rooms."- Emily explained to Seaver.

- "He was paired with Morgan,"- I pouted and looked at my phone. I thought maybe I could send him a funny text. I actually wanted to hang out with him.

- "He is very nice,"- Ashley added- "I mean, everybody is nice."

- "Yes, you mentioned it"

I was clearly not being nice. Seaver nodded and looked at the files again. I assumed she was trying to find a way to keep asking about Spencer, and I was making my best not to kill her.

- "Working with a genius must be somehow intimidating,"- she said after a few minutes. Damn it, she wasn't going to let that subject go.

- "It's fun working with Spencer,"- Prentiss said, trying to humor Seaver. And mostly, I guess trying to ease my mood and keep me from killing the trainee agent.

- "I'm sure it is,"- Seaver added. I hated her.

- "He is more than just a genius, he is a nerd."- Emily pointed out and chuckled at her words, making Seaver giggle too. I looked at my book again, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on it at all. He was my nerd. Mine.

- "Well, it's very refreshing to be with a group who trusts and works so well together,"- she added- "I had never felt less judged and more welcome in my entire life."

I know I should have felt sorry for her. But I honestly couldn't. That was the day I realized I wasn't the good person I thought I was. There was a part of me that was a scumbag. I'm guessing knowing that is pretty helpful and positive 'cos you can work on your flaws. But I wasn't planning on working on anything at that minute, though. I just wanted to break Seaver's face.

Spencer's point of view

I didn't like working without JJ. I've never been good with change, and that was a massive alteration of our routine. I missed her, and adding Ashley to the team made things even weirder for me, even for a case. I didn't want to be judgemental, but her father was a serial killer. Of course, that would make things weird.

Besides, everybody kept bugging me, teasing me, trying to see if I liked Seaver. Penelope called while we were on the case and started taunting me, saying she knew I thought Ashley was cute. I could see she was beautiful, but I couldn't see her that way. And I didn't want anyone to say those kinds of things around (Y/N).

Why did I care so much?

I didn't want to face it 'cos I knew it was completely platonic, but I didn't want (Y/N) to think I had a crush on Seaver. I knew my best friend didn't have romantic feelings for me, and I also knew I wasn't going to make a move on her or anything. But I didn't want things to change more than they already had. And most of all, I didn't want anything to alter my dynamic with (Y/N).

But at the same time, somehow, it felt everything was already different between us.

- "Hey, honey bunny,"- (Y/N) walked to me and handed me a cup of coffee- "I thought you might need one of these."

- "You are a lifesaver,"- I whispered and sipped the cup. It was perfect.

We were on the jet on our way back home. The whole team was mostly quiet. The mood was weird. Ashley had done something quite reckless earlier and nearly got herself killed. She walked to the unsub's house all alone, not knowing he was our guy. She almost died, and none of us can even imagine what went through her head to do such a thing.

Rossi and Hotch walked to her. (Y/N) looked at me, and I could read on her face that both of us knew what was going to happen.

Ashley was alone when David sat in front of her, and Hotch stood in the middle of the aisle. Maybe that had been insensitive of us. Neither of us tried to contain her. Neither of us really knew her that well. Or at all, as a matter of fact.

- "You were not supposed to go off on your own."- Hotch went straight to the point.

- "I know,"- she whispered, and I could see how (Y/N)'s face changed. I tried to read her, but all I was able to see was... anger? I had to be wronged. She had no reason to be mad at Ashley.

- "You could have been killed,"- Hotch crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her.

- "I know that, too."

- "Why, Ashley? You're smarter than that"- Rossi sounded like a worried father. I didn't look at him 'cos I kept my eyes on (Y/N)'s, still trying to read her emotions. But what I saw made no sense. She really looked like she was angry at Ashley. Like she hated her.

- "I never got to apologize to any of the victims. The families of the women my father killed. I thought if I could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way..."

And that was when (Y/N) snapped. She jumped from her seat and walked to Seaver. Aaron and David looked at her surprised, and Morgan turned to me, taking off his headphones. Neither he nor Prentiss got what was happening until that moment.

- "Ok. Shoot!"- (Y/N) sat right in front of Seaver, next to David, and looked at her. But she didn't get it.

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You just said you wanted to apologize to one of the families. So go ahead. Try."

The silence on the jet was so deep and awkward it felt no one was ever going to talk again.

- "I'm sorry, (Y/N). But I don't get what you are implying,"- Ashley's voice was a whisper. I knew she was sad and affected, embarrassed even. But I also knew (Y/N), and I could read it on her face. She wasn't joking.

- "You said you wanted to apologize to the family of one of your dad's victims, so go ahead. Apologize to me."

My first instinct was to stand up, which I did. But I froze and didn't take a step closer to (Y/N) when I noticed the severe and cold look in her eyes. I didn't know what she was talking about. But I knew she wasn't bluffing.

- "Why should I... apologize to you?"- Ashley asked her, and her voice broke at a certain point, probably scared of the answer.

- "Your dad killed my mother's older sister. She was in college,"- (Y/N) spit each word with hate and looked at Ashley, waiting for her reply. But Seaver didn't know what to do. She widened her eyes and stayed still. She barely kept her breathing steady.

- "(Y/N), maybe we should let Seaver rest,"- Hotch landed a hand on her shoulder, but my friend shook her head.

- "No, Hotch. By making that choice, she put everyone at risk,"- (Y/N) didn't take her eyes from Ashley as she spoke- "As far as I remember when you are at the academy, they teach you that in the field, we are responsible to and for your team."

- "(Y/N)... I had no idea..."- Ashley tried to apologize, I could see it, but it was clear she wasn't going to win that argument- "I am so sorry."

- "I don't know, Seaver. Did you think saying "sorry" would make those families feel better? 'Cos it ain't working here. "Sorry" won't make my mom stop feeling guilty about what happened. And, if things had gotten ugly back there, "sorry" wouldn't have made your mistake go away in case anyone would have gotten hurt. So no. Sorry doesn't help. Maybe it can ease your conscience, but when you really fuck it up, it never makes things better."

(Y/N) stood up and walked back to her seat in front of me. I let her pass and didn't say a word. I knew she wouldn't want to talk about it there. And, of course, Seaver didn't say a word. She just stood up and walked to the back of the jet, to the bathroom. Rossi and Hotch looked at each other and then looked at me.

David poured a glass of whiskey and walked to (Y/N) slowly. He didn't say a word, he just handed it to her, and she just took it and sipped it with shaky hands.

- "Thanks,"- she whispered, and Rossi nodded. Hotch raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. He just walked to his seat and opened a case file.

I moved back to my seat and opened my satchel. I had run out of candies earlier that day, so I didn't have much to give to her that could make her smile. So I picked a book and handed it to her. She took it and smiled at me kindly. I knew she was fighting back the tears, and I am sure she has held back all the emotions than being with the daughter of the man who killed her aunt since she knew who Seaver was. And she managed to do the job well. I was proud of her.

- "Wanna grab something to eat when we reach DC?"- I whispered, but for the first time ever, she shook her head.

- "I'm gonna have to catch a rain check for that dinner. I think I wanna go straight to my bed today, honey."- she sipped her glass again, and I nodded.

- "Don't worry, next time."

I was waiting for the train to go back home later that night when I saw Seaver sitting at a bench at the station, staring at her hands on her lap. I didn't see her leaving the BAU, though to be honest, I was really focused on finishing my paperwork to go home. (Y/N) had left as soon as we reached DC, but I had stayed a little longer.

I hesitated for a few seconds before I took a few steps closer and waved at Seaver. She looked at me surprised, as soon as she saw me, but didn't move. I smiled, trying to look friendly, and sat next to her.

- "Hi. What are you doing here?"- I asked her, and she shrugged.

- "I was going to go home, but I think I sat here half an hour ago and haven't been able to move,"- I turned to her and shook my head.

- "Do you want to eat something?"- after what had happened at the jet, I figured Ashley wasn't feeling so good, and maybe talking with someone could help her. She looked at me and blushed; I don't know why. But at least, she smiled and nodded.

- "Great, pizza?"

- "Pizza sounds good."

We were waiting for our food and making small talk. I kept giving Ashley pizza facts to fill the silence 'cos it was weird hanging out with Ashley. I didn't know her, really. We had worked a case together, but that didn't mean I knew her. And, of course, we had the whole jet incident. I felt a little guilty about what had happened, though it wasn't my fault at all in retrospect. I just felt like it was my job cheering her up a little bit after everything she had gone through.

- "How do you do it?"- she asked me all of a sudden- "How do you deal with the pressure of this job?"

- "You get used to it, I guess. I don't know if it's a good thing to get used to, but... it comes with the job, I think,"- I didn't know if I was doing ok comforting her. Then again, I have never been particularly good at it. Not then, not now.

- "Did you always dream about doing this?"- she asked me, and her eyes locked into mine in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

- "Y... yes. Ever since I was a kid, catching the bad guys,"- Seaver nodded and sipped her coke- "You? Why did you get into the academy?"

I regretted my question right after I asked, just 'cos I realized she might have done it to understand her father's behavior. It was only apparent that had shaped her actions.

- "I guess you know that..."- Ashley answered and smiled, her eyes looking straight into mine. I know I blushed. She is a beautiful woman, though I wasn't thinking about her that way. It was an odd feeling being observed that way.

I was glad our pizza made it to the table, and we were forced to stop talking, and I could focus on anything else but her. Not that I didn't want to look at her, but... I think the right way to explain it is to call it "uneasy." That's how I felt. I wanted to be friendly with her, she had a horrible experience consulting with the team, and I was sure she wasn't really having a good day.

- "This might sound weird, but... do you think I can call you sometime?"- Ashley asked after a few minutes. We were eating and talking about nothing important. I nearly chook at her words and looked at her, nodding.

- "Sure, why?"- I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't know why she might need to talk to me again.

- "I just think maybe you could help me with a few assignments at the academy."

- "Yeah, of course."

Ashley Seaver smiled and nodded at me, pleased. She took a sip of Sprite, and I could read her, trying to find the words to continue speaking.

- "I'm glad. I was sure you were going to say no."

- "Why?"- I furrowed my brows, confused- "I'm not a big fan of phones, but I can handle a casual phone call."

- "No, I just didn't think your girlfriend would like... I mean, I think (Y/N) hates me, and as her boyfriend, I thought you... would... I don't know."

- "I'm, we are... we,"- I was completely flustered as I tried to rearrange my thoughts. Seaver looked at me innocently and waited for my words.

- "(Y/N) isn't my girlfriend"- it bothered me to admit that simple fact. Why? 'Cos it hurt to think we looked like a couple, but we weren't. Why did Seaver think we were together?

- "Really? But..."

- "She is my best friend,"- I explained poorly. She nodded and hesitated before saying what she was thinking. It was obvious she was trying to arrange the words in her head.

- "It's just that you two... sorry, I'm overstepping,"- Ashley blushed and shook her head- "She is... strong."

- "Yes, very."

- "I think I started with the wrong foot with her."

- "Well, I don't mean to justify anything, but if your father hurt,"- I made a pause, trying to find a way to say it that wasn't so painful.

- "Killed. My father killed her aunt,"- she corrected me with a cold and monotonous tone of voice. I just nodded and sipped my water.

- "She is an amazing person,"- I don't know if I was trying to excuse (Y/N)'s earlier behavior or if I just loved her so much I needed to tell people how awesome she was.

- "I'm sure you will pass this,"- I assured her- "Once you get to know her, and she gets to know you."

- "I don't think she will give me that chance. Besides, I was just clear to assist with only one case."

- "If you want to stay, you can request your remedial training be here. And if Hotch approves it, I could talk to (Y/N). I'm sure she will like to know you better."

Why did I say all that? I had no idea.

- "Thank you, Spence. You are really sweet,"- Ashley moved closer and held my hand. I stayed very still, absolutely awkward.

- "Yeah, I don't... like... holding hands,"- I quickly moved it away and tried to smile at her. She stayed still, not understanding my reaction but trying to act normal.

- "Sorry."

- "That's ok. I'm a germaphobe, that's all."

After pizza, we left the place and said goodnight. I told Ashley I was weary (which was, in fact, the truth) and got her a cab to take her home. After that, I walked to my place. I felt like I needed to be alone for a while. My head was overwhelmed, and in the latest couple of weeks, I had severe trouble sleeping.

I had migraines that nearly blinded me. I was scared they meant I could develop the first signs of schizophrenia, like mom, 'cos they were coming more and more often. It wasn't that bad yet, the light didn't hurt my eyes, and I didn't have any sign of hallucination, but still, I knew it could be serious.

I tried to think of a reason why I might be having those severe headaches. I was eating correctly, mostly 'cos (Y/N) forced me to eat. No, she didn't force me, but she made sure I had all my meals at work, not just coffee. And usually, at the weekends, we would spend our time together, and she was a fantastic cook. So it wasn't an alimentary issue.

I wasn't sleeping well. That wasn't new, but it was getting serious. I wrote and read a lot at night 'cos I couldn't fall asleep until late. I didn't know why. I just couldn't rest. My body ached, and my brain wouldn't sleep. The only nights I could actually get some rest were the ones when (Y/N) stayed with me. It was a blessing when Hotch paired us to share rooms, 'cos I could easily fall asleep when she was around. Her presence soothed me in a way that I didn't understand. Let me put it this way, I know it might sound cheesy, but the beating of her heart set the rhythm for my own, and at night it would bring me peace.

I reached home that night and sighed. I knew I wasn't going to rest easy. (Y/N) wasn't there with me. So I made myself a cup of herbal tea, (Y/N) had a lot of those in my house, and I drank them when I missed her. The smell coming from the cup made me feel like she was close.

How pathetic I had become! But I could only share those thoughts with myself. No one knew I had feelings for her, and I was going to deny it till the end, no matter what had JJ said. I couldn't take that phone call from my mind, and on those sleepless nights, I kept overthinking and overanalyzing everything.

I got into bed with a few books and my cup of herbal tea. I took a look at my cell phone, two new messages.

- "I miss u"

(Y/N) sent, and a warm feeling spread on my chest as I imagined her whispering those words as I read them

- "Breakfast tomorrow before work?"

- "See you at seven-thirty."

I typed and sent it.

What could ever happen if I told her how much in love I am with her? I would lose her, and I'd be alone. She didn't feel that way for me. It was a fact. I was just glad she was my best friend, and I could share everything with her. Was I pathetic? Yes, very, but in a way, it felt it was just all I deserved. Not more, not less. Just being in love with a girl who didn't love me back.

At least she wasn't dating Paul anymore. I hated that guy.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer was waiting for me outside our usual coffee shop, already holding two cups of coffee. His short hair looked dreamy as she smiled and took off his sunglasses. It had to be illegal being that hot. But, seriously, how didn't he get laid? He was fucking dreamy. In the four years we had been best friends, I saw Spencer in many hairstyles, and each of them made him look like a model.

Falling in love with Spencer Reid had been a process I hadn't actually been fully aware of. But I was completely conscious I needed to hide those feelings from him and from everybody at the BAU.

Ok, fine, I had somehow faced part of those feelings in front of my drunk best buddies at Penelope's house, but I never actually confirmed anything. I had just... shared some of my frustrations, I guess.

- "Good morning, honey bunny,"- I smiled and sighed as I stood in front of Spencer, watching him grin back at me and hand me one of the coffee cups.

- "Good morning, chipmunk. Did you get some rest?"

- "Yes, I fell asleep as soon as I reached my bed. I was exhausted."

- "I'm glad you are fully rested."

- "What did you do yesterday?"

- "Nothing,"- he answered quickly and turned around- "I got you a carrot muffin to go."

- "Thank you so much. I'm starving. I didn't even have dinner yesterday."

- "Really?"

- "I told you, I reached home and crawled into my bed."

We walked outside the coffee shop in silence. Spencer bit his donuts, and I ate my muffin. It was nice and calming being with him doing domestic things in life.

I hated how much in love I was with him 'cos I knew I had to shake that feeling away. He was never going to have feelings for me. I was a regular human being, and Spencer Walter Reid was a genius. He deserved better, he was actually never to think about me that way, and I refused to ruin our friendship with those feelings.

- "So, Comic-con is coming. What are we doing this year?"- I asked as I drove us to Quantico.

- "I was thinking we should do something classic,"- he looked at me, nearly beaming on his seat- "We haven't done Star Wars yet."

- "Really?"- I frowned, confused- "All these years? Are you sure?"

- "(Y/N), eidetic memory,"- he argued, and I chuckled- "So, how do you feel about Leia?"

- "Do I have to be Leia 'cos I'm a girl?"- I asked him, and he flustered right away.

- "What? No, you can be whoever you want to be. I was just, it came to my mind... I didn't,"- I giggled and looked at him for a second.

- "I'm messing with you, Batsy. I always wanted to dress as Leia. Surprisingly, I never had. Padme once, it was a mess, but never Leia. Who are you planning to be?"

- "Maybe Luke... or Obi-Wan. Morgan suggested C3PO once."

- "If I'm Leia, you should be Han,"- I don't know why I said that out loud. I thought about it, I pictured it in my head, but I knew I shouldn't have said it. Then why did those words leave my mouth? I don't know.

- "Han Solo... yes... yeah, sure. Of course! We can pick our outfits this weekend."

- "Great! What do you think would look better? Slave Leia or classic all in white Leia?"- Spencer didn't answer. He just sipped his coffee and looked outside the window.

- "You would look good in both,"- his cellphone interrupted our conversations, and I thought it might be a case. But I was so wrong, it hurt.

- "Hello? Oh, hi, Ashley,"- I nearly hit the break as soon as I heard him saying her name, but instead, I turned around and looked at him.

- "Good, yes. On my way to work with (Y/N). Oh, that's good."

I didn't care what she was saying. I just needed to know why that bitch was calling him. I was blind in jealousy, and I was having a hard time hiding it.

- "Really? Emily? That's... that's great. Sure, we'll see you around, gotta go. Bye."

- "What the fuck?"- I swear, I didn't think what I was saying. Those words just slip through my lips straight from my guts. I hated Seaver.

- "That was Ashley."

- "Figured when you said "Hi Ashley." What? Are you best friends with her now?"

- "What? No! No way! She just wanted to say hi... and... She.... asked for my number 'cos she wanted to help her with some of the academy's projects,"- Spencer was so nervous he actually stuttered as he answered my simple question.

- "Of course, she did,"- my voice was bitter and hurt, but most of all, ironic. And I don't know if Spencer didn't want to understand me or actually didn't get the hint, but he just continued talking.

- "She wanted to tell me she requested her remedial training be at the BAU."

- "What?!"- that wasn't subtle. I actually yelled- "I'm gonna have to see her again?"

- "If Hotch approves..."

- "Fuck!! That's awful!!"- I hit the wheel, frustrated.

- "She's not a bad person, (Y/N). Her dad was a murderer, but that doesn't mean..."- I turned to look at Spencer for a second, and he just shut up- "Sorry."

- "I don't like her, Spencer."

- "Yes, I know."

- "Her dad killed my aunt!!"

- "I know..."

- "And on top of that, that bitch is..."

I had to bite my lips and focus on the road, actually holding my breath for a few seconds, just not to open my mouth and ruin it all.

The main reason why I hated Ashley Seaver wasn't just because of what her father had done. That itself was enough to keep her away. But on top of that, she was flirting with Spencer. She wasn't even subtle about it; she was nearly all over him. I saw her! She wanted him, and he had no idea! He was blind to her attention. Unless he liked it. Did he? Shit, I hoped not.

- "She what?"- Spencer whispered, scared of my reaction.

- "She plays the pity card the whole time. Bad things happen to all of us. You don't have to make it who you are, she does, and she expects sympathy."

I grabbed my muffin and took a big bite of it. Spencer sighed and stayed quiet for a moment, giving me space to decompress, I think.

- "Did you know the origins of carrot cake are disputed by many countries?"- I looked at Spencer, and he nodded- "Many food historians believe carrot cake originated from the English recipe of carrot puddings, eaten by Europeans in the Middle Ages when sugar and sweeteners were expensive, and many people used carrots as a substitute for sugar."

- "My mom would fight all those historians and convince them she invented it. Her carrot cake is the best."

- "And I would agree, the cake she baked for your last birthday was amazing."- I nodded and heard him chuckle as I kept my eyes on the road. I wanted to focus on the memories of my last birthday and how fun it was, but something was bugging me.

- "And why did she call you to tell you what she wanted to do?"- I parked the car outside the BAU and turned to Spencer. He opened his mouth, but no word came from it. So I asked him again.

- "Honey, why did Seaver call you to announce she would take the remedial training at the BAU?"

- "It... might... had been my idea,"- he whispered and held his satchel tight against his body. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe it.

- "Why on earth did you do that, Spencer?!"- I shouted as I got out of the car, grabbed my purse, my clean go bag in case we had a case, and started walking towards the building.

- "It wasn't like a suggestion. She just..."

- "I can't believe it!!"

- "It doesn't have to be that bad! It's just for a few weeks..."

- "Hopefully, Hotch won't accept."

- "(Y/N), come on,"- Spencer held my hand and stopped me- "This is not like you. Yeah, you don't like her, but you are making it a big deal, and it's not."

- "I'm starting to think you are crushed on her,"- I didn't want to say those words. They just slipped.

- "What!? Why? No!! I'm not!"- the high pitch on Spencer's voice was a clear sign of how uncomfortable he was with the conversation.

- "Then why are you defending her?"

- "I am not! I'm just saying maybe you are acting a little bit... irrational about this whole thing. She hasn't done anything bad."

- "Other than jeopardizing the whole case yesterday?"

- "Right, other than that..."

I felt Spencer's hand in mine, and I swear, I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt. It kept sending shivers all over my body. His thumb rubbed small circles on my skin, probably trying to calm me down, and it worked. I followed it with my eyes for a second as I took a few deep breaths and nodded.

- "Ok, I won't make a big deal if she stays."

- "Thank you."

- "Just... don't ask me to be her friend."

- "You don't have to be her friend."

Spencer stood in front of me and smiled. I swear all I could think of was kissing him. And a part of me felt it was getting harder and harder to resist. He put on his sunglasses and kept his hand in mine for a moment until Penelope's voice took us from our little bubble.

- "Good morning, my wonder babies!! Ready to fight crime?"

I actually didn't know what I was getting into.

Hotch had taken the day off. We were around the one-year anniversary of Haley's death, and according to what Rossi explained to us, Jack wasn't feeling so good. It was said it would be just a day or two, but I had the feeling it might be a couple of weeks. Hotch would always put himself second, but he would do whatever it took to keep him safe when it came to his son.

Morgan had been asked to take a trip to Petersburg Federal Correctional Complex to do a risk assessment on a case, so Spencer, Prentiss, and I were in the bullpen. Garcia was in her office, and Rossi was in a meeting with Strauss. I'd say it was a very calm morning, catching up with all the pending paperwork we had. Spencer had just gotten me a cup of coffee when I heard Seaver's cheerful voice.

- "Hi guys!"- she walked in with a big smile and waved- "How are you?"

Spencer looked at me as we all said our hellos. I could almost read "Please, be nice" written all over his face, and for a moment, I was willing to do as told. I didn't want him to suspect why I was so annoyed by her after all.

- "I talked to Hotch"- Emily smiled at Seaver and moved a chair for her- He signed off your remedial training, and I'll be your training agent. I'll supervise your work. I already told Rossi too, so it's official.

Ashley jumped from her chair and hugged Emily. I rolled my eyes and stared at the file on my desk. I really wasn't ready to deal with her. I wasn't prepared to deal with someone trying to steal Spencer from me.

Ok, Spencer wasn't mine to keep, but we had been inseparable for four years, and I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose him.

I had never been ready to deal with Spencer dating other girls. The few times girls had hit on him had been awful. Once, Morgan took him to a club when we were on a case, 'cos the unsub was picking his victims there, and he taught him how to pick up girls. The bartender ended up giving him her number 'cos my dorky best friend was charming. Derek still remembered that moment from time to time, quoting it as "The day he turned Spencer into a man."

I loved Derek, but fuck, I hated him sometimes.

- "Welcome to the team,"- Spencer waved at Seaver from his desk and turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

- "Yeah, welcome,"- I added and cut her a short smile.

- "I'm thrilled to join you guys for a few weeks. I always dreamt of being here. I'm ready for making it up after the last case."

- "Don't be so hard on yourself,"- Prentiss interrupted her and smiled friendly- "You remained calm under pressure, and the case was solved. That's all that matters."

I had to control myself not to snort after Emily's words. Instead, I kept my eyes locked on my desk like I had done before. I was so focused on it that I could have actually developed telekinesis skills and moved the freaking file with my eyes.

- "I just wanted to say thank you to all of you,"- Seaver's voice was soft, in a mix of fear, excitement, and... something else I couldn't read.

- "Especially you, Spencer. I really enjoyed our talk last night, and I have the feeling I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Thank you for the pizza. I owe you dinner."

- "Don't, it was nothing,"- Spencer flustered and stood up quickly, grabbing his pile of files and walking away, arguing he needed to ask Garcia something.

I did my best not to move a muscle. I didn't want Seaver to know how much I hated the fact she had shared what seemed to be a lovely evening with Spencer. One he didn't actually mention when we talked about what we had done the previous evening. Why did he decide to keep me in the dark? I couldn't understand that. Maybe he just didn't want me to know he actually had feelings for Seaver. Maybe he had asked her out, and because he knew I hated her (though he really didn't know why), he decided not to tell me what was going on.

I had been wasting all that time in love with Spencer. I knew I would never act on those feelings, and clearly, he didn't have feelings for me. So... maybe it was time to let him go.

How could I let Spencer Reid go when I never actually had him?

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Next update: June 16th, 2021

#spencer reid #Criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #diwk #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds re write

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1billiongecs · 2 years ago

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three six nine girls wanna drink wine tell the man not to waste your time if the man broke the man he a joke

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sparkkeyper · 4 years ago

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Variations on a Theme

I’ve been working on this one for a while and finally managed to finish it up for the Ace Omens discord prompt - Dancing.

The music I had on repeat while writing the second half was “So Close” from Enchanted. I like to imagine the record they end up with is one of those piano-only arrangements of it.

Also, you can’t tell me that Crowley didn’t jam to every Top 40 since music charts were invented.

(Now on AO3!)

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"You mean you've only danced the gavotte?"

Crowley's sunglasses were barely hanging on to his nose as it was, what with the both of them being several drinks into their first bottle of the night. It didn't take many to banish the glasses these days, not when the pair of them were nestled comfortably in the back room of the bookshop, the failed Armageddon several weeks behind them. The demon stared incredulously over the tinted lenses as Aziraphale straightened from where he had begun to slouch with his wine.

"And why is that such a surprise? Angels don't usually dance at all."

"Yeah but you're not a 'usually' angel, you're you!" Crowley waved a hand wildly but did his glasses the mercy of setting them on the end table before they could fall. "You like the...the singing and the harmonizing and stuff. Humans have been moving to music since the Beginning and you really never, ever wanted to learn?"

"I did learn," the angel pointed out.

"Never wanted to learn more than the one?" Crowley amended. "Just the one in six thousand years?"

"It just didn't strike me as something I wanted to try," Aziraphale shrugged and refilled his wine glass. "The humans seemed to enjoy it sure enough, but it looked like such a hassle to attempt."

"A hassle!" Crowley threw his head back and grabbed his hair, and goodness did Aziraphale love to watch him wax dramatic when embroiled in a topic he was passionate about. "Dancing a hassle! Dancing a ha- It's not a job, angel, it's for fun!"

"Yes but in order for one to dance well, one must put in a certain amount of work."

"It's not about dancing well, it's about letting loose." Crowley rolled his eyes, stalking over to the angel's record collection next to the gramophone. "Unless you're in a professional stage company, you're not required to dance well."

"Somehow that sentiment isn't the least bit surprising coming from you."

"Oi, I'll have you know I'm an excellent dancer even though I'm not required to be. Come on, there's got to be something in here you can dance to."

"I don't know the proper steps to anything else."

"Bah, steps!" Crowley waved him off. "Don't need steps. Just make it up."

"I most certainly cannot."

"You most certainly can so. Oh for Satan's sake-" Crowley gave up his hunt and snapped, materializing a record in the gramophone and giving the handle a few solid cranks. "There we go!" His shoulders began moving to a heavy clapping beat that had definitely never been released on 78.

He turned back to Aziraphale, a grin on his face as his hips twitched to the music. "No steps, see? Just freestyle it. Come on, off the sofa, let's see it."

"This hit, that ice cold,

Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold,

This one for them hood girls,

Them good girls, straight masterpieces-"

He made a get-up gesture and Aziraphale rose uncertainly. "I really don't think I know what to do with this-"

"Don't have to, that's the best part. Just move to the beat. "

Aziraphale tried to imitate his friend, he really did, but there was no pattern to follow. One moment the movement was in Crowley's shoulders, the next it was in his hips, and now his feet were acting out a stomp-like rhythm on the carpet. It was a fascinating thing to watch, how dancing seemed to take over his entire corporation. With the gavotte, one's back remained quite straight. There was a level of control and skill to it that Aziraphale had greatly enjoyed: maintaining some parts of yourself in position while moving others. But with Crowley's dancing, the entire line of his body twisted and flowed. A movement that started in his neck might end in an arm, or maybe it would travel up one leg and come back down the other. He made it look effortless, like it took no thought at all.

"I'm too hot! Hot damn!

Call the police and the fireman.

I'm too hot! Hot damn!

Make a dragon wanna retire, man-"

The demon's eyes flicked over his stilted attempts to copy the motions and Aziraphale watched him bite back a smirk. "No, angel?"

"Perhaps it's this century's music - goodness, there's not much melody, is there? - but I really don't understand this sort of dancing."

"Not much to understand, really, but here. We'll step it back a few decades." He snapped again and a new record appeared in his hand, which was quickly swapped out for the one on the gramophone.

Crowley snapped his fingers to the beat, hips moving in time. "Oh, don't give me that look. You can't possibly dislike Bill Haley and His Comets."

"One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock, rock.

Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, rock.

Nine, ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, rock.

We're gonna rock! Around! The clock tonight!

Put your glad rags on and join me, hon',

We'll have some fun when the clock strikes one-"

"It's not that I dislike it..." Aziraphale did his best to imitate the hip thing, and the demon's stifled snort told him exactly how unsuccessful he was at it. "I just don't...connect with this style of dance, I suppose. That's the only way I know how to put it."

"So try your own style. It's not a right and wrong, it's just whatever motion speaks to you." Crowley threw his torso into a shimmy and goodness, what were his knees even doing? Aziraphale gave up trying to copy any of it.

"That's just it! Motions don't 'speak to me'. Dancing isn't...isn't...aimlessly gyrating! It's about form and style - about using form and style to bring the music to life. There's a language to it the same way there's a language to literature. Every kick and dip and bow means something and it's all spoken into being through movement! But there needs to be a form in order for that to happen."

"No no, that's the problem! That's so limiting! So much of the universe is already made up of forms and rules!" Crowley threw his hands up to encompass the heavens. "Laws and etiquette and physics, everywhere! Inescapable! Dancing is freedom! Music is emotion distilled down into pure audio form precisely so you can do what you want with it! How does it make you feel? What does it make you want? You take it and you process it and you feel it and move however it moves you! It's speaking, yes, but in a way no one else has control over! The thing about dancing is you get to be purely you, no matter what anybody else wants."

"I already am me," Aziraphale insisted. "And I like knowing what movement comes next. I like having straightforward expectations to fulfill. That's what's satisfying - completing the steps and knowing you've gotten them right!"

The moment stretched out between them as they both let this soak in. Somewhere along the way, the gramophone had made the executive decision to go silent.

"Certainly can't fault you for that," Crowley said slowly. "Preferring a solid plan. Expectations outlined and all. It's very you."

"Nor, I suppose, could I fault you for preferring more freedom in your movement. You've always had a penchant for finding new ways to express yourself. What with the clothes and the hair and all." Aziraphale fidgeted with the corner of his waistcoat absently. "It suits you, it really does. But not me. If that were my only option, I'd rather not dance at all." He shook himself with a tiny smile and sat back in his armchair. "Ah well. I had a good run with the gavotte, anyway. Got a few good decades out of it."

Crowley pursed his lips for a few moments, then switched the record again to fill the room with a smooth piano. "Can't have that, though, can we? One dance goes out of style and you're done? I don't think so. Come on, angel, get back up." He made a come-here motion until Aziraphale stood again.

"Look, I'm really not-"

"You want defined steps? I'll give you defined steps."

Aziraphale paused, considering. "What sort is it?"

"Easy one. Simple, can use it for a lot of dances. Waltz, foxtrot, all kinds of things."

Aziraphale chewed on his lip. He wasn't anxious to make a fool of himself stumbling over a completely unfamiliar style. But goodness, he missed dancing.

Crowley held out a hand to him. It was a hesitant thing, far enough out to be an offering but close enough in to be passed off as a casual gesture if it went unaccepted.

Aziraphale braced himself and accepted it. "Right. So how does this work?"

"Easy. Here, I'll lead. So you just - hand here... Other hand here..." Crowley positioned Aziraphale's right hand on his shoulder and loosely grasped his left. They stood like that together for a moment, a good distance apart so the angel could look down at his shoes. "And I step like this..." Crowley moved one foot forward. "So you step backwards to match me. Go on, then."

Aziraphale stepped as instructed.

"Right. And then I move here -" His other foot came forward and to the side - "And yours comes back and over along the same route. Yep. Now feet together, like they were at the start. Good?"

Aziraphale made certain he had his balance and nodded.

"Good. Now I step back, like you did, and you come forward this time... No no, leave your other foot there. Right. Now bring your other foot forward as mine comes back and over. Just stepping in a big square, that's all we're doing. And feet back at the start. Make sense?"

Aziraphale pulled in a deep breath. "Simple enough in theory."

"Here, we'll try it again. Back-two. Side-two. Forward-two. Side-two...that's right. Now we just add a bit of a turn to it and that's all it is. Like this... Back-two, side-two-"

Aziraphale clutched at him as they worked their way around the room to the music. (The furniture wisely backed itself up to give them space, twisting physics occasionally to avoid being tripped over.) The problem wasn't the steps, exactly. It was combining the steps with everything else: holding tight to Crowley to keep his balance while still trying to keep enough distance to give his legs room to work, figuring out which foot to have his weight on and when, incorporating the dratted turn into the rest of it, moving precisely in time with Crowley so that they didn't step on each other.

Humans had so many pieces to keep track of. So many parts moving a specific distance at the same time. He'd been in this corporation for thousands of years and usually had an excellent handle on how it operated, but that only made new movement patterns more difficult to master. It took so much work for him to commit such things to muscle memory. Each misstep threw his rhythm off and dammit, there, he was so close to overbalancing them both -

But Crowley kept him in place.

Crowley's palm rested just under his right shoulder blade, guiding the motion of his body through space. Holding him so steady even when he felt himself floundering. Wasn't that always the way? he thought distantly, eyes trained on his feet. Even after stepping repeatedly on the demon's toes (and heels, and instep, and in one spectacular fumble the back of his left knee) Crowley was a solid anchor keeping him upright.

Dancing of any variety did not come naturally to Aziraphale. Angels were built to be sturdy, immovable. It had taken him ages to make any headway at all with the gavotte. But Crowley didn't seem to mind. He chuckled a bit when Aziraphale stepped too early. He murmured advice, a smile on his lips. And his eyes sparkled. Goodness, how they sparkled.

Letting the music wash over him, Aziraphale put his trust in Crowley. Let the demon guide him here in their own little circle. Slowly, slowly, he was getting the hang of the steps - treading on toes less at any rate. It was nice, dancing like this, it really was...

And then Crowley spun him.

He didn't realize what was happening until it was practically over. The motion of Crowley's arm coming up and turning guided his whole body smoothly around and he clicked back into place against the demon like he was never meant to be anywhere else.

Aziraphale's feet faltered to a stop, eyes wide and all steps forgotten.

Crowley froze with him. "Too much?" he asked quietly.

"I - I..." Aziraphale felt like he was still spinning, heart beating entirely too fast. "I don't..."

"Too much," Crowley answered himself, releasing his hold and taking a step back. "Thought I might try mixing it up, but I misjudged. Won't do it again."

"Mixing it...oh. Of course." Aziraphale looked down at the space between them. It was barely two feet but it suddenly seemed so much farther. "This is holding you back, isn't it? This repetitive step. You'd much rather be improvising."

"I...well I didn't say that..."

"Like you said before. You'd prefer to let the music move you rather than be limited to a predetermined pattern. I can understand that even if I can't relate. You shouldn't be beholden to this."

"It's good," Crowley blurted out, making the angel pause. "For music like this. The down-tempo, largo stuff. This is a good way to dance to it. I like it." He swallowed hard and tried for a nonchalant shrug. "I mean, don't ask me to dance like this to Uptown Funk but for this style it's...y'know. It's good."

"Right. Good." Aziraphale fidgeted, hands feeling incredibly empty. "I admit, I'm very much out of my depth here. Angels don't... I don't know what I'm doing.”

"We can stop. No sense pushing it."

"I didn't say... I'll get used to it."

"You don't have to get used to anything you don't want to." Crowley made to step back but Aziraphale, in an instant of panic, stepped forward after him.

"I want to!"

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft piano. Crowley stood frozen, as though his next movement required the most careful consideration of his life.

Aziraphale steeled himself and raised his hands back to their dancing positions. "Please."

The demon looked over the two of them and very hesitantly replaced his hands, as though doing so might scare the angel off.

They stood there for a long time. Not moving, just holding on to each other with the breathless tension of men on the gallows, waiting for the trap door to open beneath them.

Aziraphale pulled in a deep, steadying breath. "I'm afraid it's going to take a long time for me to get this right. All of this. I'm not very good at this sort of thing when I don't know the steps."

"Take all the time you need," Crowley replied softly. "I'm just sort of making it up as I go, honestly."

"It might be very long. I can't improvise as easily as you can."

"I wouldn't expect you to." The demon tightened his grip ever so slightly and Aziraphale suddenly couldn't conceive of pulling away. "No spinning, promise."

"I - I didn't say that." Fingers itched to trace a familiar nervous pattern - straighten bowtie, adjust waistcoat. They tightened in Crowley's hands instead. "Just...warn me before you do. Let me prepare."

"I can do that, yeah." The demon held him so carefully, as though giving him every chance to break away, and started them off into their pattern once more.

The hesitant grip grew more sure with each rotation around the room, and it was impossible to tell if it was one or both of them. Each successful round of the sequence made Aziraphale feel a little bolder. It was the reassurance of a task set and completed: the very ancient satisfaction of expectations met. That desire had been ingrained in his bones since bones were invented and in a way it calmed him. There was so much he suddenly felt unprepared for but at least he could do this.

He wasn’t successful every time, of course. He still fumbled, still trod on snakeskin shoes. But the guiding hand was back under his shoulder blade and God, did it make a world of difference. It stayed with him through each failed attempt and carried him through to try again. Any wrong positioning of his legs seemed less important when he was sure Crowley would keep him where he needed to be.

He could see the tension draining from the demon as well. The sense that he was holding something fragile and afraid to break it was melting slowly back into the confident strides Aziraphale had seen from the start. The lines of motion flowed through him the way they had earlier, though more predictably at present. He was still amazing to watch, all moving lines and sharp joints. Aziraphale blamed more than one stagger on it.

"All right if I spin you?"

The angel braced himself. "All right."

"'Kay. Three, two-" Crowley twirled him again and for a single, dazzling moment it felt like flying. It felt free and easy and the most natural thing in the world -

And then he stumbled over his own feet coming back in and nearly collapsed against the demon's chest and drat, now he'd lost all the steps-

"Forward-two, right-two, back-two, you've got it, come on, forward-two -"

Aziraphale clung to the instructions and managed to get back on track within an eight-count, concentrating fiercely on the movements of their feet together.

"That's what I'm talking about. Look at you. Angel dancing something other than the gavotte. Who would have thought, eh?"

"Who indeed." There was a warm fluttering in his chest. So much to keep track of with these human bodies.

He was still going to need a lot of time and a lot of practice. He had a feeling there was a lot of unknown territory ahead regarding the two of them.

But he had Crowley to keep him steady. So they’d be all right.

#good omens #good omens fic #my writing #my fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #dancing #discord prompts #in which aziraphale's attitude towards dancing is my attitude #how does one improvise I do not know #obsessed with these two figuring out how to be soft with each other

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elidelochans · 4 years ago

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19 for the prompts :)

A treat this time

Prompt: 19 “You want to go trick or treating?” "Seriously?”

Pairing: Nessian

a/n: Sorry it took a while! my writer’s block has been really bad lately. Enjoy!

Today was Halloween. Her favorite holiday. Not only for the fact she loved the costumes, dressing up, the weather and films, but because it was the night she had met Cassian. If it wasn't for a party six years ago she might not have met him.

However, this year, Nesta Bellator nee Archeron found she wasn't particularly in the spirit of spooky. Not when she looked like an overgrown pumpkin, with her bump jutting out of the shirt. From Braxton-hicks, aches in her lower back, not to mention the swelling in her feet, she was over this pregnancy. At this stage, Nesta's fairly certain her feet were to be permanently stuck that way.

This time around she and her husband of almost three years decided to stay in. Opting for appropriately themed films and eating take-out from her favorite Italian restaurant. The one that made the breadsticks so perfect, the bread seemed to melt in your mouth. A mere thought of them made her mouth dry. She would savor every bite while Cassian rubbed her pudgy toes. Tell her she's beautiful, though in this state, she felt far from it. Half of her clothes didn't fit. Even her maternity clothing seemed to be a struggle. Hell, everything was nowadays. Being ten long days past your due date would do the trick.

Nesta heard the sound of jostling keys in the door. Prompting her to slide the bowl of half-eaten candy under the Cherrywood coffee table. Candy that was supposed to be for the neighborhood kids. She should feel guilty for eating most of it. In her state, Nesta found she could care less. They weren't miserable and exhausted beyond measure like her. Besides, the kids in their neighborhood didn't need all the sugar. Not like she did.

Hearing the creak from the front door and the click as it shut. A faint sound of heavy footfall from her husband's boots echoed from the hall. The sound becoming louder with each step inching towards her. Nesta stood with a groan from the grey sofa. Settling a hand on the swell of her back. Walking, no waddling, like a godsdamned penguin to greet her husband and the food she was dying to devour. Tonight her pain seemed to worsen.

Most likely from lazily hanging on the couch most of the day. She moved as quickly as her nesting body would carry her to the dining table. The square mahogany table adorned with orange, red, and brown on the runner, matching the leaves littering their yard outside. Nesta winced as she smiled at her hero, walking towards her. With bags of food from Nuala and Cerridwen's restaurant, La Bellezza di Cibo. He dropped the bags and rushed to her side. Nesta hitched a breath as the bags hit the floor with a thud. If her food were a mess, he'd deal with her, her... Nesta clutched the back of a ebony chair.

"Nes?" he questioned with worry displayed on his ruggedly handsome features, a hand placed gingerly over her shoulder before resting on the swell of her belly, "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Her knuckles bloomed white from her tightened grip on the rounded back of a dining chair, "fine." Nesta gritted out, glancing between concerned hazel eyes and her food abandoned on the floor.

Once the tremor subsided, Nesta stood upright. Hands resting over Cassian's warm ones, "Fine," she replied again. Feeling the light kicks and punches from within. By the awe touched grin on her husband's lips, he felt it too, "Just Braxton hicks. As you can tell, he's content in there.

"Nes…" Cassian's thumbs rubbed along her belly, "I think you should call the doctor."

"I think," she huffed out, " you should pick up the food, feed your hungry, very pregnant wife, and rub her grapefruit-sized feet." Nesta realized a moment too late that the words were coming out harsher than intended.

By the way his posture tightened, and his jaw clenched, she knew he was fighting against what he truly wanted to say. That she wasn't in this alone, he should have a say too, and if he's concerned to humor him and call the damned doctor. They had called a few times, and tonight she wasn't doing it. She wasn't going into the hospital yet again only to hear they are Braxton-hicks and have those nurses look at her with slight annoyance—the kind she gave her customers daily. Cassian offered a tight smile, kissing her brow in a silent expression of okay.

She watched his shoulders slump as he picked up the bags walking to the sofa. Her heart constricted as her gaze continued to follow him setting up dinner on the coffee table. He was trying in the only way he could.

Cassian didn't know the inside of her body as she did. His only tells of possible labor were her movements and time. He sighed, pulling out her favorite drink, iced green tea, no sugar. Silently she moved towards the couch. Her husband now putting on Practical Magic, one of her favorites. He preferred the gory films. lately Nesta couldn't stomach watching those.

If she weren't pregnant and past due, Cassian being upset for a few minutes would be nothing. Nesta would have rolled her wines and left him be for thirty minutes, an hour, sometimes all night before talking. Now, she couldn't stand it. Bracing herself on the back of the charcoal sofa, Nesta shook away the dull pain in her spine.

"Hang on," Cassian grabbed the couch pillows settling them against the back of her seat, "okay, now sit."

She did leaning into the pillows as best as she could. Laying a hand on her belly, the other on his thigh. "I'm sorry, Cas. I'm just.. I'm so tired all the time, I'm gigantic and in pain. Calling the doctor and going to the hospital just to be turned away, I can't do it. It's annoying and disheartening. If one of those nurses look at me like that again I will stab them in the eye with a syringe." Those last words she promised as a threat. A sigh escaped Nesta, laying her head against his shoulder, "and I just want to meet him."

Cassian squeezed her hand, reaching for a breadstick with the opposite. Nesta took it, biting into the bread, still soft and warm. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes while she chewed. Cauldron this gods damned pregnancy has ruined her non-crying streak a hundred times over.

"I know. Trust me; I'm ready too. It seems like he has both of our stubbornness," he took her in his arms, running fingers through her hair. Nesta wiped her tears with the back of a hand, "You don't have to apologize, Nes. Yeah, I got annoyed for a minute. I don't know what's happening. I walked in, and you're bent over in pain. I had no idea if this had been going on all day or not. He pulled away, taking her feet in his lap. Gingerly rubbing the expanse from toes to ankles with the hardened padding of his thumbs. Nesta hummed her approval.

"I know."

"And you're not gigantic. I mean you-"

"Don't finish that sentence!" she snapped, cutting him a dry look.

He laughed, grinning like an idiot in the way it made her heart flutter, "You're carrying our child, and you look gorgeous doing it. Better?"

"Yes. But you're at morning foot rubs now and speaking of mornings. Tomorrow you're making me crepes."

"deal."

They fell into a blissful rhythm of silence watching the movie. At some point, Cassian handed her the tea. She didn't eat the chicken parm or touch the Tiramisu Nesta claimed to have been craving for weeks. However, he wasn't sure about that. Cassian, the dutiful husband he is, knew every craving and memorized everything she wants and needs. Learning the lesson from Rhys, who was kicked out for a night for getting the wrong the sauce. Feyre's wrath was nothing compared to Nesta's. Paying careful attention to all her tells he knew she's hurting tonight more than usual, which gave him an idea. It was stupid he knew, but if it worked...

"Nes, wanna go trick or treating?"

Turning, she looked at him incredulously. He chuckled at her mouth fully agape, a bit of breadstick tumbling down her black shirt.

"Cassian, you're thirty-one years old, and you want to go trick or treating?" a nod, "seriously?" a second nod, Nesta sat a little straighter, "Let me get this straight, you want to take your nine and then some months pregnant wife trick or treating?"

"Yes, sweetheart. That's exactly what I'm suggesting. We can paint your stomach like a pumpkin with body paint. The doctor said walking helps a chance of labor, free candy, and I'll throw in a rub as soon we get back. I'll even hold your breadsticks and tea."

Before she had a chance to consider, Nesta felt a rush of liquid flow from her. Like someone, some little one popped a balloon filled with water. Nesta stilled for a moment. Time slowed as her stormy grey eyes moved down to her belly. She could feel her cotton leggings thoroughly soaked. Her jaw fell, and her heart pounded loudly. To the point that Nesta knew Cassian was speaking, yet couldn't hear his words. There were only dull noises and a wet feeling underneath her. This was happening. There was no trickery tonight—no falsified contractions.

Cassian knelt in front of her. Face twisted in worry, he quickly transferred to a half-smile, realizing Nesta was smiling from ear to ear.

"Sweetheart?"

Meeting his gaze of amber and green flecked eyes, Nesta finally broke, "We can't trick or treat. Cassian, my water broke."

Tag list: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @hizqueen4life @clockworkgraystairs @b00kworm @negativenesta @sjm-things @whataboutmyfries @justgiu12 @illyrian-bookworm @thesirenwashere @ireallyshouldsleeprn @forbiddencorvidae @vanessa172003 @thewickedkings @sleeping-and-books @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @aknymph @alittledribbledrabble @iminsanenotobsessed @figuredihadanodustollensofalife @df3ndyr @awkward-avocado-s @maastrash @knifewifejude @st00pid231 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @gisellefigue08 @se-ono-waise-ilia @strangeenemy @The-girl-who-reads-to-much @piratejudedemdji @junipersuns @ladywitchling @superspiritfestival @kendarbahr @shadowhuntersshadow-world @pcarnatio @wanderingjpg @whimsyrhys @bookishwitchling @sayosdreams @theoceanfaewriter @acourtofbookworms

#nessian #nessian fic #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acoma #acowar #acofas #acosf #sjm fandom #prompt #prompt ask #answered prompt #the end is nigh #usernite #sv fics #is my writers block over?#I hope so!

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coldflasher · 3 years ago

Text

Title: don’t threaten me with a good time Chapters: 1/1 Length: 7.7k Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014) Rating: Gen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Minor/Background Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Kamilla Hwang, Barry Allen/Iris West Characters: Barry Allen, Cisco Ramon, Kamilla Hwang, Caitlin Snow, Killer Frost, Iris West, Leonard Snart, Original Male Characters Additional Tags: Alcohol, Drunken Shenanigans, Bisexual Barry Allen, The Flash 7x12 Good-bye Vibrations.

Kamilla leaned forwards to read the front page. “The Barry Allen Drunkenness Scale.” Bemused, she looked up. “What’s this? “This,” said Cisco, “is the result of a great deal of research and a number of hard-earned lessons.” He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, pulling the folder towards them. “There are eight stages of Drunk Barry, each one with a varying level of severity. It begins with stage one.”

Inspired by the Santiago Drunkenness Scale from Brooklyn-99. Team Flash are throwing a party to celebrate Kamilla and Cisco’s departure from Central City, and Kamilla wants to make sure they go out with a bang. But with great power comes great responsibility, and sometimes responsibility means making sure your friend doesn’t break the sound barrier by doing the worm at Mach 2.

Read on AO3

@dctvgen (i hope this is okay!! didn’t really use any prompts but i had this one saved up and seemed like a good time to post it, lmk it’s not suitable!!)

Life came at you fast. After seven years being besties with a speedster, working to save the world, Cisco knew that to be true in more ways than one. But apparently despite everything he’d seen, it still had the capacity to surprise on him.

One minute the thought of leaving Central City had been a vague, abstract thought – a ‘what-if’ or a ‘maybe’ he dwelled upon whenever yet another crisis announced itself with a shower of broken glass raining into his Vibeuccino, or when he’d compared the news in Central City, which was all doom and gloom and murderous metas, to somewhere nice and peaceful like Keystone, where the biggest news story of the day was some kid winning the national Spelling Bee Championship. Then the job offer came in, and Kamilla had tested the waters with wanting to leave – and now their stuff was all packed and in boxes, he had a start date at ARGUS, and what had been a daydream was now a very clear reality. He’d hung up the gloves, said a final goodbye to Vibe.

It was the other goodbyes that were going to be the hard part.

“It just feels weird, you know?” he said, pausing in the middle of hanging bunting from the corner of the cortex. “We’re saying goodbye to everyone we know. This has been my life for almost eight years now. Team Flash are my family. It feels weird to celebrate leaving all that behind.”

“Don’t think of it as a celebration of what we’re leaving behind,” said Kamilla, who was sat at the desk, partway through ordering pizza. “Think of it as a celebration of everything we’ve accomplished. Making friends and building inventions and saving the world! I know it’s difficult and change can be scary, but it doesn’t have to be. We’ve done amazing things, and I think it’s important to honour that.”

Cisco sighed as he successfully stuck the flags to the wall. He climbed down from the table he was stood on and joined her at the desk in his usual chair, pushing himself back and forth with his foot. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re always right. I’m not getting cold feet, I promise. I’m excited. We’re going to make this work. We’ve done amazing things, and we’re going to do even more. Together.”

Kamilla beamed. “That’s the spirit.” She held out her hand for a fist-bump.

Grinning, Cisco returned it. “You’re such a dork.”

“Which is exactly why you love me,” Kamilla countered, with a few final clicks and a flourish as she placed the pizza order. She consulted the list on her phone. “Okay, so we’ve got the cake, the decorations, the drinks, and the pizza is in transit. There’s just one more thing we need.”

She slid past him and made her way towards the small metallic fridge tucked away in the corner. Kamilla typed in the passcode 05-20-80 – the release date of The Empire Strikes Back – and the fridge unlocked with a clunk, revealing two test tube holders – one containing a single emergency vial of Velocity IX, and another that held eight tubes of liquid a few shades lighter than blood.

Cisco glanced over, bemused. “Babe, did you stash your Kraft beers in my security fridge? Because that seems a little excessive.”

Kamilla eased the second rack of tubes off the shelf like a tray of freshly baked cookies out of the oven. “No, I’m just getting a couple of vials of 500 proof for Barry. I didn’t want him to feel left out of the festivities.”

Cisco had met a lot of speedsters in his time, but in that moment he was pretty sure he moved faster than any of them as he sprinted across the room to intercept. Startled, Kamilla jerked back and the test tubes clinked together like champagne glasses mid-toast.

“Sorry, can we just back up a little bit – you’re what now?” said Cisco.

“I’m grabbing some drinks for Barry,” Kamilla repeated slowly. “This is his special speedster booze, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cisco said nervously. “It is, but…”

“But…?” Kamilla prompted.

“Listen,” he said, hands up in a pacifying gesture. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but that is a highly controlled substance and it’s really in everyone’s best interests if you put it back.”

Kamilla grew wide-eyed. “Why? Is it dangerous?”

“I mean, if any normal person drank it, it’d pretty much liquidize their insides, but that’s not the problem.”

As he spoke, Cisco headed over to the shelf on the wall, ran his fingers along the various binders tucked onto the shelf, and pulled one off. Cisco carried it over to the table, pushed aside the keyboard and laid the folder flat in front of her.

“The problem,” he said, flipping it open, “is this.”

Kamilla leaned forwards to read the front page. “The Barry Allen Drunkenness Scale.” Bemused, she looked up. “What’s this?”

“This,” said Cisco, “is the result of a great deal of research and a number of hard-earned lessons.” He picked up the metal test tube rack and returned it to the fridge, his fingers flying across the buttons to input the code before he slid the vials back into place. “It’s also the reason why this stuff doesn’t leave the lab except in dire emergencies, including but not limited to break-ups, deaths and severe metahuman disasters.” Decisively, he closed the fridge and it locked again with a clunk and a beep.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you are fortunate enough to have never before encountered an inebriated Barry Allen,” said Cisco. “Let me walk you through it.” He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, pulling the folder towards them. “There are nine stages of Drunk Barry, each one with a varying level of severity. It starts with stage one.”

1 DRINK BARRY: A LITTLE CLINGY

One of Barry’s many wonderful qualities is his propensity for affection. Unimpeded by the bounds of modern-day toxic masculinity, 1 Drink Barry generously bestows physical affection on everyone he encounters. To put it plainly: he’s a hugger.

Standing outside Barry and Iris’ front door, Cisco checked his watch.

Usually at this time of night, he’d be hanging out in the cortex watching the red dot darting around on the monitor as Barry did a lap of the city, or in his lab tinkering with some new invention. Tonight, though, was different. They’d all agreed work was off-limits – time to take a hard-earned break. Cisco had been looking forward to it all week, but he guessed the rest of Team Flash didn’t share his enthusiasm, because they were late. That wasn’t like Caitlin at all. Shrugging, he lifted his hand to knock.

The click of heels made him turn just in time to see Caitlin bouncing up the stairs in her heels. “Hi, I’m here! Sorry I’m late; Frost and I couldn’t agree on an outfit.” She leaned in. “Did you bring the, uh…”

Cisco slid a silver flask out of his pocket slightly. “Sure did.”

“Then I guess we’re ready to go!”

“Damn right. …Ladies first?”

Caitlin knocked. They waited, listening to the rattle of six locks being unfastened one at a time, until the door opened to reveal Iris standing on the threshold wearing a tight red dress and a leather jacket.

Cisco whistled. “Damn. You look good.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” said Iris as she stepped back from the door to allow them entry. “Barry will be down in a second, he got held up at work, so he’s a little behind –”

There was a whoosh and a crackle of lightning, and Barry skidded to a stop beside her with windswept hair and a grin. “Here! Hey, guys.”

“Oh. Famous last words.” Iris reached for her purse and swung it onto her shoulder. “Well I’m also running late, so I’d better get going. You guys have fun! And try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“I’m afraid we can’t make any promises, cos everybody knows there ain’t no party like a Team Flash party!” said Cisco. “You sure you don’t wanna come with us? It’s gonna be one hell of a night.”

“Thank you, but I’m going out with a couple of the girls from CCPN tonight, so… rain check?”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Cisco warned.

“You’d better.” She rested her hand on Barry’s arm. “I’ll see you later, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Barry, and he leaned in for a kiss.

“Boo! Get a room!” Cisco hollered.

Iris rolled her eyes fondly. “Goodbye, Cisco,” she said, and headed out.

Cisco sighed. “And then there were three.” He looked from Barry to Caitlin and back again, stretching out on the sofa. “Okay, drinks!” He headed into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine in one hand and three glasses in the other.

“Uh, isn’t the drinking supposed to start after you leave the house?” asked Caitlin.

“Only if you’re an amateur! You always have a drink or two before going out on the town. It’s financially savvy.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” said Barry when Cisco offered him a glass. “No use wasting perfectly good alcohol when it doesn’t even touch the sides.”

“That,” said Cisco, “is why you’ll be drinking this.” He pulled out a silver flask from inside the breast pocket of his blazer. “I call it 500 Proof 2,” he said, and held it dramatically aloft like Frodo holding the one ring.

Caitlin wrinkled her nose. “Really?” she said.

“The name’s a work in progress,” he admitted. “But the drink itself…” He kissed the flask. “She’s ready to go.”

Barry eyed the flask warily. “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, you’ve earned it. The city can manage without the Flash for one night. Go on, live a little.” When Barry continued to look skeptical, Cisco started to chant. “Barry, Barry, Barry–”

Grinning, Caitlin joined in. Barry endured it for all of thirty seconds before he rolled his eyes and snatched the flask. Caitlin and Cisco both cheered.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” said Cisco.

He splashed wine into his and Caitlin’s glasses, and passed one to her. She took it with a twinkle in her eye.

“All right, Team Flash!” Cisco whooped, and they clinked their glasses against Barry’s flask before they all drank.

Barry pulled a face. “Jesus! That’s – that’s potent.” He coughed, eyes watering.

“You’re welcome,” said Cisco. “We made a couple of tweaks to the formula. It should stay in your system longer instead of just burning off in thirty seconds flat like the first batch.”

“It tastes like rocket fuel!”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll put some hairs on your chest,” Cisco said dismissively.

“You can say that again,” muttered Barry, massaging his chest.

“Speaking of hairs on your chest,” said Caitlin, curling up comfortably in her seat. “Did they grow back yet?”

“Not entirely,” admitted Barry. “It’s sort of a peach fuzz.”

“That’ll teach you not to get so close to my experiments,” said Cisco.

“Maybe it’ll teach you to label them better,” said Caitlin.

“Really? Don’t do me like that!”

“Sorry, it’s true.”

This triggered a bout of good-natured bickering as they debated the results of some of Cisco’s more disastrous experiments. Before long they were all laughing, loosened up by the drinks. Barry, who was perched on the arm of Caitlin’s chair, leaned against her.

“I love you guys, you know that?”

“We love you too, Barr – ooof! Oh. Okay,” said Caitlin, bewildered. Barry had slid off the arm of the chair and squeezed up next to her, taking up half the chair like a Great Dane still trying to sit in its owner’s lap.

“Look at him, he’s getting tipsy already,” Cisco teased.

“Shhh.” Barry rested his head contentedly on Caitlin’s shoulder. Amused, she patted his knee.

Cisco downed the rest of his drink. “All right, let’s get this show on the road.”

He offered Caitlin his hand – only to have Barry grab it instead. Then he grabbed Caitlin’s hand too.

“Oh, we’re holding hands?” said Cisco. “Is that a thing we do now?”

“It is when we’re running,” Barry said, grinning.

Caitlin’s eyes widened. “Oh. No, no, no runni–”

The rest of her sentence was lost to the wind.

2 DRINK BARRY: KINDA CLUMSY

When Barry became a speedster, he gained a massive boost in motor functions, including enhanced reflexes that have massively improved his coordination. Prior to this transformation, his ability to walk unhindered across a flat surface was roughly equal to that of Bella Swan from Twilight. Two-Drink Barry is harmless, but he must be kept at a safe distance from breakable objects.

Okay, so travelling at super speed sucked – Cisco would stick to breaches from now on, than you very much – but he had to admit it had its advantages. They’d beaten the evening rush by minutes and found themselves a table, where they had been comfortably situated for the past half hour. Since then the bar had filled rapidly, and now they were surrounded by people. Glasses clinked, bodies gyrated. All around them was laughter and the throb of music; he could feel the buzz of the bass against his elbows where they rested on the table.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” asked Caitlin. “No monsters, no metahumans… just the three of us having a few quiet drinks.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Cisco said darkly. “Also, I don’t know that the ‘drinks’ part is entirely accurate. The fastest man alive is about to lose his title. Where the hell is he?” Barry had offered to get the next round, but that was ten minutes ago and they hadn’t seen him since. Frowning, Cisco and scanned the room.

Just as he had started to get concerned, the crowd parted and Barry appeared with three glasses in his hands.

“It’s about time! What took you?”

“I’m so sorry,” said Barry. “I got held up at the bar, there was a huge li–”

Whatever he’d been about to say next was cut off as he abruptly tripped over his own feet.

All three drinks spilled everywhere. Lightning flickered as he lurched forwards to try and intercept, and he managed to right the glasses, but not before the majority of their contents had ended up all over the table.

Cisco’s plastic cup floated across the tabletop in a puddle of dismally fizzing coke, which dripped steadily into his lap. Caitlin looked down at her soaked sweater, hands held up in shock. Her eyes flared white.

“This,” snarled Frost, “is a cashmere sweater.”

Barry’s eyes were wide. “Oh my God, guys, I am so sorry.”

With a jerk of her head, Caitlin regained control. “It’s fine,” she said, then winced, presumably in response to whatever Frost snarled in the back of her head. “Really. It happens to the best of us.” She pulled the sopping wet fabric away from her with a grimace. “Um… does anyone have a tissue?”

“Let me get some paper towels!” said Barry.

Cisco reached out to stop him. “Actually, Barr, maybe you should –”

But it was too late: Barry had already turned around and crashed into a guy going in the opposite direction, who slopped beer all over himself. Cisco winced sympathetically.

“I’m sorry!” Barry said, while the guy glared and shook his wet hands.

“Maybe you should take a seat,” said Cisco.

Still apologising profusely, Barry sank onto his stool and shrank in on himself, nursing what was left of his drink while Caitlin went to get something to clear up the mess.

“So I guess those adjustments we made to the 500 proof are working, huh?” Cisco said with a smirk.

“Oh, they’re working,” said Barry. “Speaking of which, can I get a top-up?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Caitlin asked, returning with a wad of paper towels. She started to mop up the table.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m not even buzzed, seriously. Tipsy at best. Come on, hit me.” He waved at his drink.

Cisco and Caitlin exchanged looks. There was a slight flush to Barry’s cheeks, and his eyes were a little brighter than usual, but other than that he seemed stable.

“I have wanted to study how the speedforce interacts with alcohol,” Caitlin admitted. “Metabolic processes aside, I am interested to measure the effects.”

“What the hell,” Cisco said. He unscrewed the cap of the flask and tipped it in to Barry’s glass, pouring a generous measure. “Knock yourself out.”

Barry beamed and picked up his drink. “Cheers,” he said, and they all clinked their half empty glasses.

Three Drink Barry: Barry Dance-Pants

This Barry is able to flawlessly replicate the choreography for every single Britney Spears music video unprompted. So far we have been unable to determine where he acquired this information.

They all agreed that it was best if Cisco got the next round. He didn’t retrieve the next lot of drinks any faster than Barry had – if anything, he was slower; people kept shoving in front of him every time he got close to the bar – but at least the glasses stayed upright this time. When he returned to the table, though, Caitlin was alone.

“Where’d Barry go?”

Caitlin frowned. “I thought he was with you.”

“Nope.” He passed her drink over to her.

Caitlin worried at her lower lip.

“Hey, don’t stress,” said Cisco. “Barry’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.”

“I don’t know. He’s been gone a while, and he wasn’t exactly steady on his feet. He might hurt himself.”

“Good thing we have a doctor on call,” said Cisco, sipping his drink.

“That’s not funny. Seriously, I’m worried about him. I’m not sure he should be left unsupervised.”

She had a point. Speed and immense clumsiness wasn’t a great combination – they’d learned that the hard way. Cisco downed the rest of his drink with a grimace. “All right, let’s go look for him.”

They got up and headed out onto the dancefloor. The music was so loud that the entire room vibrated, Britney Spears’ Womanizer throbbing through the room. Caitlin pulled back and made a face as she almost inhaled a mouthful of some stranger’s coarse blonde hair. She batted it away like cobwebs.

“Ugh. Remind me why we decided to come out on the busiest night of the week?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” muttered Cisco, craning his neck. “Man, I can’t see him anywhere. It’s like playing Where’s Wally? Hey – hey, excuse me! Can I just squeeze – guys?” He attempted to slide past a knot of people, only to give up with a frustrated sigh. “Jesus, it’s like talking to a brick wall. What the hell are they looking at?”

Caitlin stood on her toes. “It looks like...” She stopped. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

She grabbed his arm and steered him through the crowd, using him as a battering ram to force her way through. Eventually, breathless and sweaty, they made it to the outskirts of the dancefloor, where Cisco finally got a good look at exactly what had captivated everyone’s attention.

Barry was in the middle of the dancefloor, tearing it up. He strutted up and down, squatted and slut-dropped before he arched his back and pumped his hips forward in several lewd thrusts. The crowd cheered.

“Oh my God,” said Caitlin.

“He is killing it!” Cisco cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Yes, Barry!”

Barry winked and blew a kiss, rolling over to air-hump the ground with an alarming level of enthusiasm.

“Should we maybe go over there?” asked Caitlin.

“In a second,” said Cisco. He held his phone up, pressed record and zoomed in on Barry’s gyrating body, careful to keep his face in shot. “I wanna get this for posterity’s sake.”

“Cisco!” Caitlin scolded, and reached out to cover the camera.

Cisco jerked the phone out of reach. “You are aware that his ringtone for you is still thirty seconds of you butchering Summer Lovin’?”

Caitlin pursed her lips. “On second thoughts,” she said. “I hope you’re getting this in HD.”

Cisco grinned and went back to recording.

“Okay, that’s a little embarrassing,” Kamilla conceded.

“That? That was iconic,” corrected Cisco. “The man has moves. I swear he was a professional dancer in another life. I still have that video; I’ll show you later if you ask me nicely…”

“I’ll hold you to it. But none of this explains why this stuff has to be so rigorously controlled. I mean, being clumsy, affectionate, kinda sloppy, tearing it up on the dancefloor… that sounds like pretty standard drunk behaviour.”

“The first three drinks aren’t the problem,” Cisco said darkly. “It’s what comes after that you have to worry about. See, drunk Barry is insatiable. One drink is never enough. Once he’s had a taste of that sweet, sweet 500 proof concentrated speedster juice, he won’t rest until he’s had more. And while he may be an icon, three-drink Barry soon gives way to…”

FOUR-DRINK BARRY: LOUD BARRY.

Barry Allen is a hero in every sense of the word. Time and time again he has sacrificed everything for the noble goal of making the world a better place. Barry doesn't save lives for the glory or the recognition; he does it because it's the right thing to do. But four-drink Barry… he thinks a little recognition might be nice.

The final chords of Womanizer faded out into a sea of applause. Beaming from ear to ear, Barry took a series of bows, flapping his hand as if to say, ‘oh, stop it!’ After a few more moments of thoroughly enjoying the spotlight, he disengaged from his loving admirers and headed back towards Cisco and Caitlin and slid breathlessly back into the booth. His sweaty hair stuck to his forehead.

“Where did that come from?” Cisco asked, impressed.

Barry shrugged. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Clearly. I think you just earned yourself another drink!”

Cisco handed him the flask, and Barry clinked it cheerfully against Cisco’s beer bottle before he tipped it back and swallowed with a grimace. His eyes watered.

“Damn. That never goes down any easier.”

“Well it is just concentrated alcohol,” Caitlin reminded him. “Speaking of which…” She pulled her testing kit out of her purse. “Four drinks should be more than enough to start showing some side-effects. Let me take a quick blood sample.” Before Barry could object, she stabbed a lancet into his finger.

“Ow!” Barry put his finger in his mouth and sucked on it.

“Everything okay there?”

They all turned. A blond man in a grey t-shirt stood a short distance away, looking at them in concern.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m good. Just hurt my finger.” He held it up ruefully.

Blondie moved closer. “Well it’s your lucky night: I’m a nurse. Why don’t you let me take a look?”

Cisco plastered on a smile. “That’s real nice of you, but our friend here is actually a doctor, so –”

Barry held out his hand, overriding Cisco’s objections. Blondie took it and examined it, tracing his palm with the tip of his finger. Cisco rolled his eyes hard and took another swallow of his drink.

“I was just watching you out on the dancefloor,” Blondie said. “Those were some impressive moves.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Barry said modestly.

“No, it was definitely something. If I busted out a routine like that I’d be laid up for a week. What’s your secret?”

“Funny you should say that, cos…” Barry leaned in and said impishly, “I’m actually the Flash.”

Cisco choked on his drink. It went straight up his nose; his sinuses were on fire. He coughed hard, eyes watering.

“Are you okay, man?” the stranger asked concernedly.

“Great,” Cisco managed.

Satisfied, Blondie’s attention returned to Barry. “Well, I think your finger’s okay.” His thumb pressed against the inside of Barry’s wrist and his forehead creased slightly. “Your pulse is pretty fast, though.”

“Is it?” Barry said, resting his chin on his hand. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes.

Blondie released him, but he showed no signs of leaving. He looked Barry appraisingly up and down. “So you’re the Flash, huh?”

“Yep,” Barry said. His eyes twinkled. “Fastest man alive.”

“Mm. Maybe we’ll have to test that.”

At this point, Cisco decided, enough was enough. He slapped Barry on the back hard enough to make him stagger and complain, “Ow!”

“Ha!” he said. “This guy. He’s a kidder, right? A real riot. Hey, uh, Barry, can I talk to you for a second?”

Before Barry could object, Cisco had grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him out of the main bar area into the corridor, where there was a line of people waiting for the bathroom. Out here it was cooler and while he could still feel the throb of the music through the sticky soles of his sneakers, at least he could hear himself think.

“Dude,” he said. “Seriously? What the hell?”

“Oh, come on. It’s just a little harmless flirting. Iris and I, we have an agreement–”

“I’m not talking about the flirting! You can’t just –” Cisco stopped and made himself take a very deep breath before he lowered his voice. “You can’t just tell people you’re the freaking Flash!”

Barry gave a slow, confused blink. “But I am the Flash.”

He didn’t say it quietly. Several heads turned their way.

Cisco gave an uncomfortable laugh and rolled his eyes, before darting them at Barry like, ‘this guy, am I right?’ After a moment, the bystanders lost interest and went back to their conversation, and Cisco lowered his voice. “I know that, Barry, but it’s a secret, remember?”

“A secret?” Barry’s eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh! Right, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“You know what? It’s all good. Just a little misunderstanding. But uh, let’s keep that one under wraps from now on, okay? Lips…” He mimed zipping up his mouth.

Barry nodded dutifully. “Got it.”

“Okay.” Cisco exhaled heavily. Jesus. Babysitting a drunken speedster was hard work.

Barry patted him on the shoulder. “M’gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in…” He held up two fingers. “Two seconds.”

“You’d better be. And remember –” He made the zipping motion again.

Barry imitated it, pretending to lock his mouth up and tossed away the imaginary key. Then he went to join the queue.

Feeling like he’d just aged a decade, Cisco made his way back to their booth. Mercifully, Blondie had gone to chat up some twink at the bar. Cisco sank back onto his stool and buried his head in his hands.

Caitlin, who was squeezing a few droplets of Barry’s blood onto a testing strip, made a sympathetic sound. “Not having a good time, huh?”

“I’d be having a great time if Black Canary over there could quit singing about his secret identity for five freaking minutes.” Cisco snatched the silver flask off the table and screwed the cap back on with a sharp twist. “We’re cutting him off right now, before we get into any more trouble.”

“Oh, come on, cut him a little slack. He doesn’t exactly get to let loose very often.”

“There’s letting loose and then there’s whatever the hell this is.” Cisco shook his head. “It’s like –”

A high-pitched shriek cut him off, and Cisco grimaced as it rang throughout the room. Everyone turned to the source of the commotion – and Cisco’s heart sank. Barry stood on the stage, fumbling with the microphone stand.

“Is this thing on?”

“Oh God,” said Caitlin.

Cisco launched himself at the stage, fighting through the crowd. As he did, Barry continued to ramble into the mic.

“Hi. My name’s Barry, Barry Allen, and I just wanted to say something real quick. Because I love this city. It’s like… my favourite city. And I love all of you. Especially you.” He pointed unsteadily at someone in the crowd and gave a clumsy wink. “Anyway, I’m gonna tell you a secret while I’m here. You guys can keep a secret, right? Shhh!” He put his fingers on his lips. “See, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…” He leaned in so close that his lips brushed against the mic. “I’m the Fla –”

Just in time, Cisco jerked the mic away from him. “Flaaa–ha! Okay, that’s quite enough of that. I think my buddy here needs some air. Come on, Barry, let’s go.”

Luckily, Barry didn’t resist. He whooshed cheerfully as Cisco shunted him back to their booth and into his seat, then lolled sideways against Caitlin, who – with reflexes well-honed from constantly grabbing flying paperwork – managed to save her testing kit from being swept off the table.

Barry giggled. “I’m fast,” he said.

“Okay,” Cisco said resignedly. He turned to Caitlin. “Got any better ideas?”

She shrugged. “Pray that six-drink Barry is a little more tight-lipped?”

It sounded like a terrible idea. But when had that ever stopped them? With a shake of his head, Cisco withdrew the flask from his pocket.

“Hold on.” Caitlin’s voice had dropped an octave, and silver began to creep down from the roots of her hair. “I wanna see this,” said Frost. “It’s gonna be a total shitshow.”

Unfortunately, Cisco suspected she was right. He splashed more alcohol into Barry’s glass. “Here you go, big guy. Drink up.”

Barry looked down at his drink and frowned. “Can I get ice in this?”

Frost passed her hand over the glass and a chunk of ice dropped to the bottom with a clink.

“Awesome,” Barry said, and downed it.

“Oh God,” said Cisco. “We are so gonna regret this.”

“Okay,” said Kamilla, looking up from the binder. “I think I’m kinda starting to see the problem. But we won’t have that issue tonight. Everyone at this party knows Barry’s the Flash.”

“Listen,” said Cisco. “Four-drink Flash is a cake-walk. The worst is yet to come.” He flipped the page. “Let me introduce you to five-drink Flash.”

5 DRINK BARRY: THERAPIST BARRY

Five-drink Barry got a little too invested in Iris’ Intro to Psychology textbook in college. He’s all heart, zero clinical training.

Leonard Snart lay back on his bunk in Iron Heights, one leg resting lazily over the other, flipping through a nudie magazine. At least, that was how it appeared from outside the cell. Tucked between the pages was a blueprint of the prison, which his sister had smuggled in during her last visit. The bed creaked as he shifted his weight.

One of the guards struck the bars with his baton. Len glanced up.

“Snart. Get your ass out here. We’ve got a phone call for you.”

“Who from?” Lisa didn’t usually call so soon after a visit, and Mick never called at all; the signal on the Waverider was terrible.

“What do you think I am, your PA? Just get your ass out here.”

Interest well and truly piqued, Len tossed his magazine aside, careful to make sure the blueprint stayed safely tucked between his pages as he crossed the cell and waited for the door to be unlocked. Given his status as a high security prisoner, the guard cuffed him before leading him to the payphone booth in the reception area, the walls marked with grease stains and graffiti. With some difficulty, Len picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is Leonard Snart speaking. How may I be of service?”

The quality of the call wasn’t great. He could hear the throb of music, people talking and shrieking and laughing in the background.

Then a familiar voice said, “Snart? Is that you?”

Len’s forehead creased. “Barry?”

“Shmart. Snart.” Barry cleared his throat. “Hi. Are you okay?”

“…Peachy.” Len flicked a glance over his shoulder. The two prison guards stood watching him with folded arms and distinctly unimpressed expressions. “Can I ask if this is a business or a personal call? Because this isn’t exactly a secure line.”

“I just –” A loud, deep burp echoed down the line. “Wanted to check in n’ make sure you’re doin’ okay.”

“What?”

“Because I wanted you to know,” Barry said, his voice thick and indistinct, “that it’s okay not to be okay, you know? You shouldn’t bottle up your emotions. You gotta let ‘em out, you know? After everything you’ve been through with Lewis, I just wanted you to know that if you ever needed to talk…” He choked up, before recovering. “I’ll be here.”

“Barry, are you drunk?” Len said incredulously.

“See, there you go again, changing the subject. Have you ever noticed that you often use de… def… deflection as a way to avoid talking about difficult subjects?”

“I’m hanging up now,” said Len.

“No, no, no, no, wait! Wait!” Barry said urgently. “You need to talk about what bothers you. Don’t just bottle it up. Your emotions are a beautiful thing. Emotions are what make us–”

“Barry?” came another muffled voice on the other end of the line. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” Barry said immediately.

“Barry, give me the phone.”

“No.”

“Just give me the god damn –”

The sound of static and scuffles crackled down the line, and Len grimaced, lifting his head as far away from the speaker as he could to keep from being deafened. Over the commotion and the continued music blasting in the background, he could hear Barry shouting.

“You can be anything you want to be! Your past does not define you!”

“Okay,” said Len, and went to put the phone down.

“Wait!” said Barry. “Before you go, do you have a number for King Shark? Because I wanted to check in and make sure he’s doing okay. I know he looks scary, but underneath that slimy exterior he has the heart of a –”

Len rolled his eyes and hung up.

Sober Barry was a seasoned fighter, with speed, agility and hard-won experience on his side. Fortunately for Cisco, however, Drunk Barry’s combat skills comprised of slapping and some half-hearted attempts to bite, which meant that he was able to wrestle the phone away from him fairly easily. As he hung up, he glanced at the caller ID and blanched.

“Seriously? You’re making phone calls to Iron Heights? Are you gonna tell all the bad guys your secret identity too?” He held Barry’s phone up. “You know what? I’m keeping this; you clearly can’t be trusted.”

“My phone!” Barry said, and made a pathetic grab for it.

“Nope. Not happening, pal.” Cisco tucked it into his back pocket.

Barry pouted.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. I’m going to give it back later, I promise. I just need you to sober up first.”

“Okay,” Barry said sorrowfully. His bottom lip started to tremble.

“Oh, no,” Cisco said. “Not the lip – oh God, Barr, you’re breaking my heart here.”

“What’s happening?” asked Frost, returning to the table with two more beers, frost creeping down the side of the bottles. She gave a disinterested look at Barry, who was staring at the table with tears brimming in his eyes. He sniffed hard.

“Uh-oh,” said Cisco. “Six-drink Barry must be…”

SIX-DRINK BARRY: SAD BARRY

Shortly after his fifth drink, Barry loses his well-honed ability to repress and crumbles under the weight of well over a decade of trauma. In times of crisis, he can be medicated with chicken wings or, in a pinch, large servings of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

Cisco turned to Frost for help, but she inched away, rapidly shaking her head. Great, thought Cisco. Super helpful. He rubbed Barry’s back tentatively.

“Hey, Barry. You doing okay there, bud?”

Barry looked up. “I just got off the phone with Snart. He’s having a really hard time, you know? I mean, some people just can’t catch a break. He had a crappy abusive drunk for a father; he practically raised his sister. In and out of juvie, never graduated high school – and in spite of all of that, he comes up with these brilliant heists – like seriously impressive – and then the Flash comes in and totally ruins every single one of them. I mean, come on. The guy’s gotta make a living somehow, am I right?”

“Uh,” said Cisco.

“I always said to him, you can do better.” He poked Cisco clumsily in the chest to emphasize each word. “You have what it takes to be a hero. So the guy joins the Legends, becomes a hero, and then he freaking dies in an explosion. Kaboom! And then he comes back, returns to Central City to start over, robs one lousy bank and gets thrown straight back in prison. How is that fair?”

“Jail time seems like a fairly reasonable consequence for grand larceny,” said Frost.

“It’s just a bad habit,” Barry said forlornly. “He deserves help and compassion, not a prison cell. Do you know what it’s like in Iron Heights? The food is terrible. My Dad spend a decade in there and he always said…”

He trailed off. For a moment Cisco thought he’d gone into a trance, as he stared down at the table, forehead slightly creased. Then he saw the haunted look in Barry’s eyes. The face of a man who had seen terrible things.

They needed a distraction. Luckily, Cisco had just the thing. “You know what?” he said. “Maybe the food in prison isn’t great, but you know what’s awesome? The food you can get delivered right here. Nice, starchy, alcohol-absorbing food. Let’s look at a take-out menu and see what we’ve got.” He pulled up JustEat on his phone. “We could get you a pizza… maybe some fries… a couple of burgers; that sounds–”

“Chicken wings,” Barry said distantly.

They both turned to look at him.

“Chicken wings?” said Frost sceptically.

“Chicken wings,” Barry insisted.

“Okay!” said Cisco. “We’ll get chicken wings.” He added one portion to the basket. Then took another look at Barry’s face and hit the plus button several times. “Lots… and lots… of chicken wings.” He locked the phone. “Okay, food should be with us in a couple of minutes. So what now?”

“More drinks!” Barry said.

“No! No more –”

It was too late; there was a crackle of lightning and then the flask slammed back down onto the tabletop.

Cisco closed his eyes in defeat.

8 Drink Barry is a Michelin-star chef

Sober Barry’s cooking is average at best, but 8 drink Barry reveals a deep inner passion for the culinary arts.

It was a little past two am when a breach opened at the top of the stairwell, pulsing and flickering with pale blue light. Frost and Cisco staggered out of it, each holding one of Barry’s arms to keep him from escaping.

“Okay, almost there,” said Cisco. “You’re doing a great job. Can you let us in?”

Barry patted himself clumsily down until he found his keys and tried to open the first lock. He kept missing the keyhole. After his third attempt, Barry sighed and collapsed forwards, head resting against the wood panelling. Then he started vibrating.

Cisco suddenly realised what he was trying to do. “No, no wait, don’t–”

There was a buzzing sensation, a sickening lurch, and then all three of them fell straight through the front door.

Frost gave a full-body shudder and released her hold on Barry’s shirt to rub her arms.

“Never do that again! It makes my skin crawl.”

“I feel like we should have a rule about phasing under the influence,” Cisco muttered.

Together, they managed to get Barry onto the couch, where he lay blinking up at them, floppy as a rag doll, barbecue sauce smeared down his chin. More of the wings had ended up on his face than in his mouth, but Cisco hoped the restorative properties would kick in soon.

“Hey, Sad Flash. How’re you holding up?”

“I’m hungry,” Barry said. He clawed his way to a standing position. “Gonna make food.” Yellow light blazed as he sprinted into the kitchen.

Frost turned to Cisco. “He’s still hungry? He had like, eight servings of chicken wings!”

“Just go with it,” Cisco muttered, and then the alarming sounds of crashes and bangs came from the kitchen. “Barry? Do you need some help in there?”

Lightning crackled erratically as Barry sped around the room. Within seconds, every available surface was strewn with culinary equipment: a chopping board; a stained knife; various ingredients. A knife flashed as he rapidly diced an onion and swept it into the pan too fast for the eye to follow, and then the burner came on with a click and a whoosh. Oil sizzled as Barry dropped a steak into the pan. He grabbed a wine bottle off the side, yanked the cork out with his teeth and spat it across the room; it missed Frost by inches, and she recoiled in disgust. Barry sniffed the wine, and after a moment of consideration, he sloshed a generous amount into the pan. Flames leapt skyward, and Barry expertly tamped them down.

“Uh… what are you doing?” said Cisco.

Barry flipped the steak with a flick of his wrist. “Cooking.”

“Yeah, I can see that, but I thought you were going to make pasta, or fries, you know – normal drunk people food, not –” Cisco inhaled. “What even is that?”

“Braised steak in a red wine sauce, with asparagus on the side,” Barry said.

“…Right,” said Cisco. “Sorry I asked.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Kamilla.

“It isn’t,” said Cisco. “It’s goddamn awesome. The problem with 8-Drink Barry is that hot on his heels is –”

9 DRINK BARRY – SLEEPY BARRY.

On the night the particle accelerator exploded, Barry went into a coma and remained unconscious for nine months. During that time, his score on the Glasgow Coma Scale was a 5. Rumour has it that nine-drink Barry scored even lower than that.

“This is the worst night out I’ve ever been on in my life, and I share a body with Caitlin. Her idea of fun is wearing hideous pyjamas and watching documentaries on Hulu,” Frost hissed.

They stood on the doorstep laden with plastic bags while Cisco searched through the assortment of keys Barry had given him, trying to find the one for the first lock. “Look,” he said, inserting one into the lock with a crunch, “I know it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing, but hopefully he’ll have got the rest of it out of his system while we were out breaching to every grocery store in the city.”

“Right, because Gordon Ramsay in there had to have…” Frost slid the bottle of wine out of the grocery bag. “Whatever the hell this is. Chateau Belair Mona–whatever. As if a hundred-and-fifty-dollar bottle is going to taste any different than the fifteen-dollar fifty bottle from the liquor store.” She rolled her eyes. “What the hell is he even going to do with it?”

“To be honest, as long as he doesn’t drink it I could care less what he does with it. Just keep him distracted for long enough to get some more food inside of him and make sure any breakable objects are out of reach before he gets down to the two-drink level.” He shook the keys in frustration. “Jesus, how many keys do they have?”

“I still don’t see why we had to–” Frost paused and narrowed her eyes. She sniffed sharply. “Is something burning?”

They looked down. Thick grey smoke billowed out from underneath the kitchen door.

Seconds later, the door burst off its hinges in a cloud of icy fog.

Inside the loft was total chaos. Barry slumped at the kitchen table, dead to the world, his hand still loosely clasped around the flask of speedster booze. A small puddle of drool on the table shone in the firelight. Behind him, his frying pan lay abandoned on the range, smoking violently while flames leapt towards the ceiling.

The piercing shriek of the smoke alarm tore through the room. Frost blasted the frying pan with a thick stream of ice and cold energy crackled from her palms, barely making a difference in the temperature of the room. Cisco grabbed a damp tea towel off the side and beat at the flames, trying frantically to extinguish the blaze. Behind them, Barry didn’t so much as twitch, his snores drowned out by the alarm.

“Okay, I think I get the gist,” said Kamilla, looking up from the folder. “No-booze Barry is the way to go.” She hesitated. “But just out of morbid curiosity, what about nine-drink Barry?”

“Unchartered territory,” Cisco said darkly. “We figured eight drinks was enough.” He closed the folder conclusively. “So yeah, it sucks that Barry can’t drink with us, but with great power comes great responsibility. And sometimes responsibility means making sure your friend doesn’t accidentally break the sound barrier by doing the worm at Mach 2.”

Cisco went to slide the folder back onto the shelf. As he did so, his gaze caught a framed photo on the countertop. He paused and picked it up, smiling sadly. It was a picture of himself, Caitlin, Barry and Thawne – or Wells, as they’d believed back then – from the early days. They all looked so young, grinning at the camera, hair tousled where Barry had sped out from behind the phone before the shutter clicked. His chest ached.

Kamilla put a hand on his arm. “You’re going to miss them, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He put the photo down. “But we gotta keep moving forward. Speaking of which, it is beyond uncool to be late to your own party, so we’d better get shaking.” He held out his arm. “Ready?”

“You go,” said Kamilla. “I just have a few last-minute things to take care of. I’ll catch up.”

“Okay.” Cisco kissed her on the cheek and slipped out of the room.

Kamilla glanced over her shoulder, bit her lower lip. Then her gaze slid over to the fridge.

Tiptoeing across the room, she approached the container and input the code again. Her hair tossed as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure that no one was watching. Then she slid out a single blood red vial and tucked it into her purse.

Just in case.

#DCTVGenPrideMonth #the flash fanfiction #my fics

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gingerwritess · 5 years ago

Note

It’s my birthday tomorrow!!! Can I get some wholesome Loki birthday content? 🥺 ilysm

sorry i missed it hon, happiest of birthdays to you and all the birthdays i’ve missed!! hopefully this makes up for it!

read on to get a little drunk with Loki on cheap champagne (this is the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written oh lord it’s my new favourite)

For the past couple weeks, Loki’s been plotting.

You’d say planning, but that’s not quite what’s been going on. He’s…plotting. Setting an elaborate plot, not just making plans, thinking he’s being slick about it.

Not quite.

The fifth mistake was his random “let’s play would you rather” attempt around the dinner table.

Starting subtly with “would you rather drive or fly somewhere?”

You’d opened your mouth to answer, but Elliot cut you off.

“I’m learning how t’ fly. Mr. Wilson’s teachin’ me.”

…which only caused immediate chaos in the Loka household, resulting in a few panicked calls to Sam wondering how in fresh hell he thought putting your six year old in a flying robot-bird-suit was a good idea.

Apparently it was only once, and Bucky was on the ground watching, and Elliot wasn’t wearing the suit, I was carrying him—‘cause that’s so much better.

So on the evening of the day before your birthday, when Loki insisted on starting the celebration, you didn’t call Sam or Bucky. You called Peter.

Why is trusting a seventeen year old kid with your children easier than trusting two grown adults? THOSE grown adults??

He’s a good kid, and actually had been Loki’s first choice of a babysitter. He arrives right on time, ever the politest, and immediately gets dragged off by an excited Elliot to go play Legos.

“Feel free to leave!” He yells from Elliot’s room, “I’ve got them under control!”

“I’m unassured,” Loki announces.

You have to agree.

After showing Peter where to find dinner, Frigg’s favourite blanket, extra diapers just in case, the fire extinguisher, and the other basic items needed for Loka-home survival, you both kiss your kiddos goodbye with a stern “be good.”

Loki lays your coat over your shoulders and offers you his arm.

“We’d better be off, and I’m driving. No arguments.”

“Goodbye forever,” you sigh to your children.

—

Loki’s evil scheme turns out to be…not so evil.

He did drive, rather well, actually, and simply booked a reservation for two in a chic, modern restaurant overlooking the city.

“Surprise,” he smiles, offering his arm once again when you step out of the car.

You take it, albeit suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“Elliot made me promise not to keep you to myself on your birthday,” he explains with a laugh. “So tonight is just for us. No obligations, no diapers, and absolutely no stress.”

Right there in the middle of the parking lot, you wind your arms around his neck and pull him close, pressing your lips to his.

“Thank you.”

“Happy birthday,” he murmurs, grinning against your lips. “I adore you.”

There’s a skip in his step when you head off towards the city walk, hands intertwined and swinging mindlessly between the two of you.

A dream of golden darkness, night has fallen beautifully over the city, bringing an unexpected rain along with it as people hurry by, window shop, stroll aimlessly.

“Ah, your first gift,” Loki remarks when you step out from under the parking structure, lifting his face to the rain. “A kiss in the rain. Redeemable whenever you see fit.”

“Please tell me you didn’t put Thor up to this,” you giggle, grabbing the umbrella from his coat pocket. Opening it with a quick shake, you give Loki’s hand a tug and pull him under it. “Bribe him for rain tonight or anything.”

“Mhm.” A soft smile tugs at his rain-speckled lips. “I use my brother to seduce my wife, of course.”

“Is that what’s happening?”

“Maybe,” he purrs, arms slipping around your waist to pull you against him. “I’d say it’s working, wouldn’t you?”

You just hum contentedly and let him sweep you off into this rainy, city-lit dream, complete with a kiss in the rain that leaves you breathless, the umbrella slipping from your grip.

“We really should be going now,” he whispers when the kiss morphs into an embrace, catching the umbrella and moving it back over the two of you. “Don’t want to miss our reservation.”

“To hell with the reservation—”

“No,” Loki laughs and pushes you gently away. “I did something relatively normal and exceptionally midgardian, so we’re following through with it, no questions asked.”

You huff and complain the whole way, grabbing Loki a few times in the middle of crosswalks to steal a smooch—not that he argues against it, at all—but eventually, Loki comes to a stop in front of the restaurant and pries his hand from yours.

“Remember,” he hums as he opens the door for you, “we’re perfectly average humans.”

“Gotcha. You definitely aren’t a wizard.”

“Exactly.”

Loki’s apparently in the mood to impress you tonight, judging from the beautiful restaurant and the prices on the menu. There’s a tiny hint of smugness to his smile as he helps you out of your coat and pulls your chair out for you before sitting down himself, so once he’s seated across from you, you quirk a suspicious eyebrow.

“So. What movies have you been watching, dear?”

He quirks an eyebrow right back.

“The same as you, my love, why do you ask?”

“You’re being weird.” You prop the menu up in front of your face, just to send him pointed glares right over the top.

“I am attempting to be romantic,” he replies, mirroring your actions with his own. “Now shush and let me spoil you.”

You give an indignant scoff, but go back to browsing the menu, pretending not to notice how Loki’s locked his ankle with yours.

That may be the worst conflict he’s had to face yet - whether to sit next to you and be within touching distance, or across from you to more easily speak with and gaze at you.

He’s left one hand empty, resting on the table as he scans the menu, so you take it and lean over to press a quick kiss to his knuckles.

“Heh—no, I’m supposed t—y-you don’t—”

“Shush, Loki.” Behind your menu you smile, overly pleased at his instant fluster. “Let me spoil you.”

After composing himself slightly—though not letting go of your hand—he flags down your server and asks for the “most expensive, hardest to acquire bottle of wine in your stock.”

The server, some twenty year old named Matt, looked slightly confused, but brought it nonetheless.

Loki, ever the showoff, pours it with a flick of his fingers all the while mouthing something close to you are so beautiful across the table. You don’t last long; crumbling into a fit of laughter, you shove his hand away and bury your face in your hands.

“You’re so weird,” you laugh, shaking your head. “What is your deal tonight??”

“Look, it’s been a while since we’ve gotten to go out.” He shrugs, a grin on his lips at the sight of yours. “I’m just trying to take every advantage of tonight! Just drink your wine and let me spoil you, norns.”

“I thought you wanted to be average tonight,” you snort and lift your wine glass. “But okay, fine. To spoiling each other.”

“To spoiling you.”

“No, you.”

“Don’t start this,” he warns, clinks his glass against yours, and takes a sip with you.

The drink hits your tongues and for a split second you consider—only to spit the wine right back into your glasses.

“Oh, my god, that was disgusting,” you gag, trying not to laugh when Loki takes the napkin straight to his tongue.

“I don’ think ‘at kid was e’en old ‘nuff t’ drink,” Loki responds ever so eloquently.

When Matt come back around, Loki spits out the napkin and orders the exact opposite of this bottle: “your cheapest, please.”

It’s a simple champagne in a golden bottle, and this one Loki pours by hand.

“Take two.”

Another clink, another testing taste—

“Oh, yeah. Much better.”

By the time you’re done with the bottle, it tastes expensive.

Ever since Frigg was born, it doesn’t take so much to get Loki tipsy—no more immediate need for some special “Asgardian” liquor, because with the general sleep deprivation and slow deterioration of hyper-masculine Asgardian “tolerance” levels, he’s been slowly relaxing.

You can’t complain. Luckily, alcohol only adds to Loki’s charm, turning him into a giggly, affectionate, ridiculously touch starved poet who doesn’t give a single crap about opinions on pda.

Judging from the flush of his cheeks and how he’s stroking your calf with his ankle, he’s teetering off the tipsy edge by the bottom of the bottle.

“You,” he announces, and points his fork at you, “are my lover.”

“Mmmhm.” The pride shines clear on your face, and you don’t mind him seeing.

“That’s so…so fantastic. You are the one who loves me. And I am the one who loves you.”

“Life is so cool.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Loki grins. He takes a bite of his dinner and washes it down with another sip.

And there in that much-too-posh restaurant, soaking in a bubble bath of golden champagne, you absolutely cannot die, it’s simply incomprehensible, so you lean in with a grin of your own and theatrically whisper one of his favourite words.

“Never.”

The wink you slap on the end of your promise seems to send Loki’s thoughts spiralling into elsewhere, and you go back to your dinner with a flustered little smirk.

Loki doesn’t hesitate to order dessert, waving off your tipsy concerns about how expensive the first three courses were, and when the pièce de résistance arrives in all it’s nine layer, dark chocolate, gold flakes and vanilla gelato glory, your protests drown in the second champagne bottle.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Loki tuts when you reach for it, and he holds up his own fork, visibly fighting back a laugh. “You are my birthday girl. This–this has to be something romantic.”

“But I wanna eat it all. Romantically.”

He plucks up a beautiful, decadent bite and lifts it to your lips, his chin resting on his hand as he watches you lean over to take the bite off his fork.

Even with your lamely “seductive” attempts to lick your lips, Loki promptly bursts out laughing.

“What??” You cry, grabbing a napkin and furiously searching your mouth for any messes. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you, darling,” he snorts and lifts his fork to show you. “I can’t–I can’t feed you anymore, I can’t—”

He can’t breathe, he’s laughing so hard, forehead on the table and shoulders shaking as you watch on in confusion.

“I’m kinda offended, baby.” You reach over and take your own slightly angry bite of dessert. Maybe it wasn’t the prettiest bite you’ve ever taken, but hell, it’s your birthday and you’re drunk.

“All I see is our kids,” Loki wheezes, nearly crying with laughter. “We’ve fed them both, so–so now I just—heheh—all I can see is feeding you—”

Then he breaks off into incoherent snorts, and you manage to piece it together.

The image of little Frigg, onesie-clad and head lolling back onto her high chair with her mouth consistently open and ready for food to fall into it, flashes through your mind.

She makes these little open-mouthed grunts if she doesn’t get food upon request, head still thrown back and mouth still wide open, like a tiny baby raven freshly hatched and begging it’s mother for a meal. With that striking image of your daughter in mind, you consider what you must have looked like just then, across the table, and burst out laughing, too.

The two of you give it a couple more tries, switching off with who’s feeding who, but when you decide to bounce the forkful of chocolate heaven towards Loki’s mouth with a giggly “here comes the train—choo choo!” Loki wheezes so hard he falls out of his chair, and you collapse onto your silverware, weeping with laughter.

Matt calls you a cab.

The driver is a wiry little man with a tough face and a shiny bald spot, and brilliant blue eyes. Todd, Loki deduces as he climbs in after you. He refrains from commenting on the bald spot, but norns, it shines like a diamond.

“Todd?” Loki asks after a moment of sitting primly in your seats, heads held high and hands folded in your laps.

The epitome of “too much to drink,” but to the two of you, right now, you could pass as perfect royalty.

“Yup.”

“If I were to double the price of this trip, would you mind if I kissed my wife?”

Todd ponders the request for half a second.

“It’s her birthday,” Loki helpfully adds.

And shoots you a ridiculous wink that seems ridiculously attractive, at the moment.

“Meh, what the hell.” Todd shrugs. “But clothes stay on.”

Loki salutes and is on you in an instant, and the rest of the trip is a complete blur of giggles and shushing and sloppy kisses with no seatbelts until Loki rips himself from your grip to gasp “here!” to Todd.

You blindly follow him out of the car, still ridden with giggles and not at all minding the view you get when Loki climbs out of the cab, only to find yourself standing on the sidewalk of an empty street, glowing under a streetlight in the leftover drizzles from earlier’s rain.

He pays Todd with a wad of cash that’s most definitely more than double the charge, but Loki thanks him profusely for the ride and the backseat and insists he keep it.

When the cab drives off, Loki jumps in a puddle, sighs, and walks over to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pressing his lips to your temple.

“We need to walk it off,” he says, and you agree. You’re only a few streets away from home, so you don’t bother with the umbrella.

The fresh air does wonders as you and Loki amble towards home, arm in arm and leaning on each other, the occasional leftover giggle escaping.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

You miss a step and glance over to him to find him already staring, a soft smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you wind your arms about his neck. “Thank you for everything, Loki.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You emphasise it with a kiss.

He returns it, not the most precise but still laced with effort, and it’s so gentle and warmly caressing that you know in the end, he still got the last word.

“Love you,” he mumbles, and you mumble it back, leaning into him with a tight hold of his arm to land another kiss on his neck as you turn onto your street.

Loki laughs and kisses you right back, ducking under your ear and pressing his lips to your pulse point before you can squirm away. Your hands find his shoulders and you shove him with a giggle, only encouraging him to pounce again and hold you tighter.

“Okay,” you gasp through giggles, “okay, stop it, stop, we’re home!”

He resurfaces with a grin and straightens your shirt for you. “To be continued.”

With a roll of your eyes you grab his hand and drag him to the door. “Remember. Sober and mature. We’re adults with kids.”

A solemn nod.

Then he bangs the door open and sings “we’re hoooome!” before you can say or do anything.

Peter looks blankly up at you from the kitchen table.

“Oh.” The two of you push through the doorway, fighting back more laughter. “Sorry, Peter. We’re home.”

“Hey, welcome back.” He stands with a grin and Loki sticks out his hand for a shake—which Peter gives, a little confused. “Everything was great here, just perfect, they’re great kids.”

“I know,” Loki sighs, still shaking Peter’s hand, “I made them.”

“We,” you correct.

“Right, right, couldn’t have done it without her.”

“Okay…cool.” Peter pries his hand from Loki’s grip with an awkward chuckle. “Anyways. I gotta go, um, just…just one little hiccup we had…”

“Did Elliot set something on fire again?” You groan, fishing around in your purse for your wallet to pay the kid. “Damn it, I told Loki he was still too young—”

“No, nothing caught on fire!”

Loki bumps you with his hip and holds up another wad of cash—I’ve got it.

“He was really hyper,” Peter explains, pretending not to notice Loki leafing through what’s got to be the biggest wad of cash he’s ever seen. “We went outside and ran around and everything, but nothing could get him to stay still, so uh…Mr. Loki, is it legal to take money you conjured?”

“Perfectly,” Loki assures him, pressing the money into the kid’s hand. “I worked for most of it.”

“O-okay…”

“It’s all real,” you promise him with a laugh. “Really. It’s not illegal. How’d you get Elliot in bed then?”

“Right, I might have kind of sort of had to…” he scratches his neck, laughs. “Um, well, I maybe had to usemywebtostickhimtothewall.”

Loki just nods understandingly and pats Peter on the shoulder. “Wonderful. As long as he’s asleep.”

You can’t bring yourself to mind too much, either. It’s certainly not the strangest thing that’s happened in this household.

After assuring Peter that you’re not at all upset that he webbed your son to a wall, Loki sees him to the door and waves goodbye after another very formal handshake, then he turns back around and lets out a giant breath of relief.

“I think I covered that perfectly. He had no idea.”

“Definitely.” You give him two thumbs up. “Wanna go see if Elliot’s really on the wall?”

A grin splits over Loki’s face, and he dashes down the hall to Elliot’s room with you hot on his heels.

“Unreal,” he whispers when he peeks his head inside, “he’s dead asleep. He looks comfortable.”

You stick your head through the doorway and have to pull back immediately, letting out a loud snort of laughter at the sight of your little son, spread eagle against the far wall and snoring lightly with his Iron Man plushie clutched in one hand, webbed and weirdly comfortable.

“There’s no way he’s—”

Loki claps both hands over your mouth with a very loud “shhhhhhhh!” before slumping against the wall with his own silent fit of giggles.

“Shuddup.” You lick his palm and he laughs harder.

Seconds later you’ve tackled him to the ground to smush your hands to his mouth, the two of you giggling and screeching and shushing and slowly forgetting your two kids are sleeping behind these doors.

He finally catches your wrists and holds them tight, keeping you above him as you catch your breath, still grinning and breathlessly laughing.

“Do you want your present now, my love?”

“Loki,” you gasp, pretending to be scandalised, “in the hallway? You dirty boy—”

“It’s an actual gift,” he groans, head falling to the floor with a thud. “Sometimes you’re worse than I am.”

“Yup.” You settle onto his hips and smile down at him. “I’ll take the present now.”

“You don’t want to move somewhere more comfortable?”

You wiggle a bit; he grunts and lifts an eyebrow.

“Nope, this is pretty comfy.”

“Careful.”

Resigning himself to your hallway-lap-straddle, he sighs and pulls a package wrapped in brown paper out of thin air. “For my birthday girl. Our birthday girl.”

You eagerly rip through the paper, and a thick leather-bound book falls onto Loki’s stomach.

“Ooh…”

Running your hands over the smooth cover, the stamped gold embellishments, you catch Loki’s eye.

“I’m writing you a book,” he explains.

“What’s it about?”

“You.”

He pushes himself up to lean back on his hands, guiding you to open the book and flip through it. Sure enough, it’s handwritten, about half of the book already filled with Loki’s beautiful script, a couple sketches, some pressed flowers, loose papers…

“It’ll never run out of pages.” He points to the spine, the thickness. “I used the entire book just trying to capture the kind of person you are and the beginnings of how we met, so I charmed it to always carry enough blank pages for our story.”

“Sheesh, that’s a lot of writing.”

“And there still aren’t enough words in the universe to describe you.”

You scoff, but Loki shushes you with a finger to your lips.

“It’s a constant work in progress, and one with an conclusion I never want to reach. But, I can assure you that it will have a happy ending, when it arrives.”

“Loki. Thank you.”

He looks up at you with those big puppy dog eyes and smiles, dimpled and ageless, and you lean forward and kiss him.

—

Midnight passes and it’s your birthday, officially, as you and Loki eat some bread and drink some water, sitting on the kitchen counters quietly laughing and teasing and reminiscing—among other things—until you’re exhausted and heading back towards sober.

The two of you carefully cut Elliot off of the wall and carry him to bed, slowly realising that Peter actually webbed your child to a wall and that maybe you should bring that up again with him tomorrow. Elliot clings to you for a minute when you try to lower him into bed, whispers “bappy hirthday, momma,” tries to kiss you on the cheek, and falls back to sleep.

Frigg, when you check on her a room over, is a little sack of cotton footsie pjs and dark hair, mouth wide open blowing spit bubbles as she sprawls across the mattress of her crib.

“I love her,” Loki croons, kissing the tips of his fingers and brushing them over Frigg’s round little cheek. “She sleeps like you.”

Your elbow finds it’s way nicely under his ribs and he hisses.

In bed, you’re snug under Loki’s arm smushing your cheek to his chest, ankles entwining. He’s tired, but still awake, so you reach over and grab your new book, setting it on his chest.

“Read to me?”

His drowsy chuckle rumbles under your ear and he takes the book, thumbing past the in-depth love letter/birthday dedication you already cried over twice.

“On this day, some years ago,” he begins, yawns, and scoots you closer into his arms, “you were born. You came into this world and I like to believe you cried a beautiful song, unlike our own screeching children (spoiler alert, I am so sorry). At this time, I was, of course, well into my adulthood, just waiting for the day you would try to kill me. Not to make this weird.”

“Brilliant.” You lean up and plant a sweet kiss on his jaw.

“Darling, you’re making me blush.”

“Shh, I know. Keep reading.”

“Luckily, this is not my story, and my wife has a thing for older men.”

You poke him in the gut.

He laughs and steals a proper kiss.

The two of you huddle even closer, trying to press yourselves into one, and Loki reads you the beginnings of your happy ending until neither of you can keep your eyes open.

You fall asleep in a tangled mess of searching limbs, Loki’s book lying open over his heart to save your spot.

― ― ― ―

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thefloorisbalaclava · 5 years ago

Text

Everywhere - Chapter 10

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader

Warnings: SMUT (yeah y’all. it’s finally going down)

A/N: I think this one of the longest (if not the longest) chapter I’ve written for this fic and I think you know why lol. The song for this chapter is Brown Eyes by Fleetwood Mac ;)

Summary: All the feelings and emotions finally come to a head in a very passionate way.

Javier's POV

Javier's hands shook as he started his car and pulled away from your place. Once he got far enough away, he pulled over and hit the steering wheel in frustration. Why couldn't he just fucking say it? Those three little words he knew were true. He just couldn't do it.

"Fucking idiot," he whispered to himself. The words 'off limits' kept echoing in his mind and he hated himself even more. You opened up to him in a way not many women do and he was going to ruin it all. And then he thought about the way you said you were going to take a page from his book and just go and sleep with someone. He would lose sleep over that for sure even if you did say you were only joking.

He pulled into traffic again and found himself driving to see one of his informants. He would regret this in the morning but right now he needed relief. His mind was full of you and it just wasn’t fair. How was he supposed to be okay with how things were? You had no right making him yearn for you the way he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to use that word—yearn. It’s lust, he tried telling himself, but he knew damn well it was more than that and that you meant more to him than anyone has in a very long time.

Your POV

Another sleepless night along with the umpteen glasses of wine you had with Javier left you feel groggy and moody in the morning. You wanted to go for a run but your head screamed no at the thought so you showered, got dressed, and drove to the precinct.

“Mornin'!” Steve shouted as you walked in and you groaned.

“Ugh…mornin'. Why are we yelling?” You walked to your desk and collapsed in the chair, putting your head down on your arms.

“Long night?” Steve asked leaning on your desk.

“Something like that.” You wanted to say more but Javier walked in and you pretended to be busy with some paperwork.

“Hey,” he said to no one in particular.

“Hey…what’s that on your neck?” you heard Steve ask Javier and you looked up to see for yourself. Well, you certainly didn’t leave that on him which could only mean one thing.

“Of course,” you murmured under your breath and both men looked at you. “What? Just talking to myself.”

Javier was about to speak when the door opened and a woman walked in saying she needed to talk to him. Of course she was beautiful. He placed a gentle hand on her back and walked her over to his desk. You knew you wouldn’t be able to stop looking, stop thinking, so you excused yourself.

“Bathroom,” you mumbled to Steve.

While in there, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You were pretty, right? Javier was clearly attracted to you. Unless it was only lust. Yeah. That’s all it was for him—lust. That’s why it was so easy for him to leave your place and go straight to another woman.

After some time had passed and you felt it was safe, you walked out of the bathroom only to bump into Javier’s informant.

“You must be her,” she said in a slightly accented voice. “Javi’s girl.”

“Excuse me?” You put your hands on your hips and waited for her response. God, you were even standing like him now.

“You’re the one he’s been telling me about. He describes you perfectly.” She smiled and you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you two discussing me?” you asked.

“He comes over sometimes. It used to be for…well, you know, but now he just talks about you.”

“Oh…so you just talk? That explains the hickeys I guess.” You waved your hands. “You know what? I don’t even wanna know.”

“We both know how irresistible he is,” the woman said as you walked away. “I promise you that is all I did to him though.” You stopped for a moment and almost turned around but thought better of it.

“Peña!” You burst through the door angrily and he, along with everyone else in the office, turned to you. “Can I ask you why the hell you think it’s okay to discuss me with your…liaisons?!”

Steve looked between you two and sighed in an almost ‘here we go again' sort of way.

Javier walked up to you. “You think maybe we can talk about this privately?” His voice was hushed as he looked left then right then back at you.

“Why? Your little informant already knows everything! Why shouldn’t everyone else?” Suddenly, he grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the office and down a hallway that no one ever really used.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked quietly.

“Why the hell did that woman call me your girl?” You used air quotes for emphasis. “Why does she know so much about me? Do you fuck them then use them as therapists now?” You thought about what you said for a moment. Fucking was his therapy.

“I never called you my girl. I swear. Why are you so angry about this?” He was standing with his hands on his hips and you did the same without noticing. His jaw moved side to side as he waited for your response.

“I don’t want to be discussed by you or anyone else especially someone you’re sleeping with.”

“I didn’t know where else to go or who I could talk to,” he admitted.

“Steve?” You gestured to the office. “God…Javier…every time I think you might be starting to change you pull some shit like this.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I can’t change,” he snapped.

You smiled sadly and threw your hands up in defeat. “You’re right. I only wish I realized that sooner.” You shook your head and walked away.

Steve turned as soon as you walked in. “Everything o-"

“No,” you said calmly as you sat at your desk.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I wish I never came back.” You said it loudly so Javier could hear you as he walked through the door. You had no idea at the time that your wish would come true in a strange way.

---

“I was better off not coming back at all.” You paced the floor of Connie and Steve’s apartment as they sat and listened. You told them everything about last night and neither of them were shocked.

“Isn’t it clear that he loves you even if he can’t say it?” Steve asked and Connie shook her head.

“Coming into work with hickeys from another woman isn’t exactly making it clear, Steve.” She stood and hugged you. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad you’re back. So is Steve.”

“I’m gonna go home. I just wanna sleep,” you said as you hugged her back. “I’ll call you later. Thanks for listening.”

You drove home, tears blurring your vision the entire time. Javier had broken your heart once again and here you were still fucking loving him. You hated it.

As you pulled up, you noticed a car in the drive and recognized it immediately. “Fuck,” you whispered when you saw Javier leaning on the car smoking a cigarette. He stood up straight as you stopped your car. You turned the car off and just sat there even as he approached. He knocked on the window and you rolled it down without looking at him. You didn’t want him to see that you were crying.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“We do? Why?” You pushed the car door open and he jumped out of the way. “Oh…sorry.”

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“You can talk if you need to.” You walked to the front door and opened it. “I’ve said all I needed to. Besides don’t you have people to talk to already?”

Javier closed the door behind him and sighed as he watched you throw your keys on the table then walk to the kitchen for something to drink.

“How dare you make me the topic of your…pillow talk?” you scolded.

“Because…I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed. “Talking about you is the only thing that helps. I can’t-"

“DEA wants me in Mexico,” you cut in. Remember that wish you made earlier…

“What?” Javier walked closer to you.

“I’m going to Mexico.”

“You already decided?” he asked.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You pushed past him and walked upstairs to your bedroom. He followed but stayed in the doorway.

“You’re leaving…again?”

“Why do you care?” You spoke without looking at him, shrugging your jacket off.

“Okay fine. Yes. I’ve talked about you with other women, okay? Because if I don’t, I can’t fucking function!” He stepped into your bedroom. “I can’t get you out of my head and it’s…I’m not used to it.”

“What are you saying, Javier?”

“You know last night when you asked me why I had to be everywhere? Well, now I’m asking you: why do you have to be everywhere? Why do I see your face whenever I close my eyes? And it’s not just that.” He breathed heavily and moved even further into the room.

“Wh-"

“Your little quirks. Every. Fucking. Detail. The way you wrinkle up your nose when you’re thinking really hard about something.” He smiled. “The way you play with your fingers when you’re embarrassed or nervous. Your hair…there are always the same loose curls that never seem to stay pulled back with the others.”

Your eyes were filled with tears again. “I don’t understand, Javi…I don’t get you.”

“But you do. Better than anyone.”

You shook your head. “I thought I did.”

“I don’t want you to go to Mexico,” he said.

“If you haven’t noticed this is not about what you want. I’m going.” You turned away from him.

“No.”

“Excuse me? No?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” He stood his ground even as you approached him and got so close you could feel his breath on your face.

“And why should I listen to you? Because you ‘see' my face everywhere? Or is it because you’re able to remember little details about me and I’m supposed to just melt over that? What is it, Javier?!”

“It’s because I love you!” he shouted. “Goddamn it…I fucking love you!”

“Javier…you…,” you cried, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Yeah, I said it. I love you.”

“And I’m just supposed to forgive you for everything now?” you sobbed.

“No and I don’t expect you to.”

“And you’re not just saying it so you can…you know?” You wiped your tears.

“Do you really think that lowly of me?” You made a face and he scoffed. “Dumb question.”

You moved away from him and sat on your bed. “So…what now?”

He sat beside you and took your hand. “I think this is when I apologize for everything, for hurting you.”

“I fell for you hard, Javi,” you confessed, “Too fast. I’ve been angry at myself about it. You were supposed to just be some asshole I had to work with, and you are,” you giggled, “But then you became so much more and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.”

“I wish I could tell you…”

“And we’re so different. How did I even let myself fall for you this way?” You shook your head and sighed.

“I can’t believe I’m saying something like this but we can’t always help who we fall for.”

“See…you’re so fucking smart but you’re such an idiot sometimes.” You nudged him playfully.

“I am a man.”

“A goddamn fool,” you said as you pushed him gently. He took your hands and kissed that back of both before looking into your eyes.

“Is it okay if this fool kisses you now?”

“Si. Por favor,” you breathed and Javier smirked.

“You should speak Spanish more often.” He kissed you softly then pulled away. “I like it.”

“I’d much rather hear you speak,” you admitted.

“And what would you like me to say?” He pulled you onto his lap.

“I don’t care just say something…”

“Me encanta besarte,” he said against your lips. “Tan dulce.” He kissed you again and you slowly moved your hands to the front of his shirt. You began unbuttoning but he stopped you.

“What?”

“Are you sure? I don’t think I can handle you changing your mind again. I need to know right now if you’re sure.”

You shake his hands off yours and continue unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m sure.” He gasped as you reached down to unbuckle his belt. “You okay?” He nodded and bit his lip as you pulled the belt out of the loops and threw it to the floor. Your hand accidentally brushed against his hardening dick as you went for the button of his jeans. He cursed under his breath. Finally, you were able to pull his shirt out and finish unbuttoning it.

“Are you purposely taking your sweet damn time?” he grunted.

You shrugged. “I like this color on you.” Javier growled and flipped you over so you were lying flat on your back. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him before leaning over you.

“I want you.” His face was so close to yours that your noses touched but when you tried to kiss his lips, he would move just a bit and leave you hovering. “I’ve dreamed about this,” he whispered.

“Javier…please do something.”

He laughed. “If you’re gonna take your time then so am I.” He stood up and pulled you with him, making you sit up on the bed. You pulled your shirt off then went for the button on your pants. “I’ll do it,” Javier said eagerly. You laid back and watched as he slowly removed your pants then admired you.

“You just gonna stare?” you asked.

“I want to remember,” he told you, “I need to remember this moment—you laying there…for me.”

You sat up again then kneeled on the bed in front of him. “It’s only fair that I get to do the same with you.” You tugged at his jeans and he helped you pull them down then stepped out of them. The boxer briefs he wore accentuated his erection and he caught you staring.

“You can take them off, you know?”

“I know,” you murmured against his lips, “But I’m taking my time, remember?” You began rubbing him through the material. His mouth dropped open slightly as he breathed rapidly.

“Okay okay.” He grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand away.

“Am I too much for you already, Javi?” You smiled innocently. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. “Hm…” You slid your fingers through his hair and pulled then pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “I can do that too.”

“Is that the way you like it then?”

“Did you think I was just gonna lay there and take it?” you asked with a smile. “Maybe that’s what you’re used to but I’m not.”

“Fuck. You’re gonna be the death of me.” He slid his hands up your back and unclasped your bra. You let the straps fall from your shoulders until it they slid down your arms and Javier pulled it the rest of the way. “Lay down.”

“Don’t get used to telling me what to do,” you said as you laid down again.

“Yes ma’am.” Before you could speak again, he kissed you and took your breath away. His hands explored your body, barely there touches over the curves and scars as if he was memorizing every inch of you. He kissed your gunshot wound then moved to side the side of your stomach and kissed the scar there. “Fuckin’ ex-boyfriend,” he mumbled, remembering the story you told him.

“You remembered?”

“I did.” He continued kissing you all over, stopping at your breasts to give them special attention. Your body responded to him in a way that it never responded to anyone else. His touch was like magic. You told yourself it was because you hadn’t been touched this way in so long but you knew it was more than that.

“Up.” He tugged on your panties and you lifted your hips so he could pull them off. “Damn.” Admiration glowed in his eyes and you suddenly felt shy. You closed your legs and turned your head. “Mírame…don’t get shy now.”

“I…am not shy,” you lied. You looked at him again and almost argued but he spread your legs and began touching you. “Oh,” you gasped.

“Is this okay?” You nodded and he smiled. “Tell me.” You tried to but he slid a finger into you and your words melted away into a moan.

“M-more,” you said but he kept up the same pace, fascinated by the way you responded to him and the sounds you made. “I need more.” You reached down and grabbed his hand, pushing it against yourself harder. “You’re not gonna break me, Javi. Come on.”

“You could ask nicely…”

“I’ll make you sit and watch me do it myself if you don’t—” You cried out as added another finger and pressed them deep inside of you.

“What were you saying?” He pumped his fingers in and out of you faster, bringing his thumb up to play with your clit. You tried shoving his hand away as you hit your peak but he kept going, enjoying the way you writhed and whimpered beneath him. He had dreamt of how you would look and sound but this was better than any fantasy he’d ever have.

“Oh…fuck…” You held his hand still but his fingers still moved around inside you. “Javi!” His thumb brushed against your clit and you were sure you saw stars.

“You okay?” He slid his fingers out of you and immediately put them in his mouth, closing his eyes happily. “Exquisito.”

“I’m glad you think so but…” You struggled to sit up a bit but once you did you pulled him then flipped him onto his back. “…it’s my turn.” He was still wearing his boxer briefs so you used that barrier to tease him, grinding your wetness against him just to feel how he throbbed and twitched.

“I’m gonna tear right through these things if you don’t take it out now,” he warned.

“Hm?” You sat up and moved your hips back and forth on him, his dick and the fabric causing a sweet friction against you. You played with the waistband of his underwear before pulling it and letting it slap against his skin. He hissed and you giggled.

“Gimme something,” he begged, watching how you moved against him. You leaned over and kissed him deeply, his hips jerk up searching for that friction again. You smiled against his lips before pulling away and reaching over to one of the drawers of your nightstand. “What are you-"

You sat back up and shook the little packet in your hand. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Why do you have those?” he asked.

“For all the wild, hot sex I have, Javi…duh,” you joked. “Am I not supposed to have condoms?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t think you…would need them.”

You grabbed him through his underwear. “Looks and feels like I do.” You slid down a little so you could pull the underwear down. He groaned in relief but gritted his teeth when you grabbed his dick and ran your thumb along the tip. “You okay?” you asked, mocking the way he asked you earlier.

“More than…okay,” he breathed, watching as you opened the condom then rolled it on him. You slid up his thighs again and settled over him. He tried to grab your hips but you quickly grabbed his hands and held them by his head.

“My turn,” you repeated as you used one hand to reach between your bodies and grab him so you could lower yourself onto him. The stretch made you whimper and Javier’s eyes looked like they were about to roll to the back of his head. “Shit…” You sat up carefully and moved your hips slowly, letting him ease his way into you until he was fully seated.

“Jesus,” he cried out almost reaching out to touch you but moving his hands back to where they were quickly. You leaned in and held onto his wrists as you kissed him.

“Do you want to touch me?” you asked, moving faster in him. He nodded and forced his head down against the pillow. “Okay.” No sooner were the words out your mouth than he was touching you. His hands grabbed at your waist and moved them at the pace he wanted.

“Keep going,” he said, “Just like that.”

You kept it up for a short time before bouncing on him. Your hands moved to his chest for balance as you lifted and lowered yourself on him hard. When you looked into his eyes you expected to see lust but there was so much more. There was a passion that you’d never thought you’d see from him. And love. The love was there and always had been. He moved his hands from your waist and placed them over yours where they laid against his chest. He lifted and held them, lacing his fingers with yours, holding you steady as you rode him.

“Come on,” he urged, squeezing your hands. You moved his hands back above his head so you could lower yourself and kiss him. He slowly took one of his hands from yours and slid it down to play with your clit. His eyes stayed on you even as you kissed.

It didn’t take long for you to break the kiss in order to moan loudly, feeling yourself come undone. “Javi,” you said breathlessly against his cheek.

“I’m here. Let go, hermosa.” He kept his lips close to yours and looked into your eyes. His free arm wrapped around you and held you close as you both chased that pleasure. His hips moved in tandem with yours and his finger teased your clit until you were pushed over the edge.

“Javier!” You had never screamed a man’s name during sex but there’s always a first time for everything. You came around him and tears filled your eyes as you kissed him weakly. He grunted and growled lowly as he thrust up into you a few more times before stilling and moving his hand from between your bodies.

“Fuck…me…” he said weakly.

“Just did.” You kissed his chest then laid your head against it. He still hadn’t let you go and you were fine with that. You laid like this for a while until you were strong enough to push yourself up. “Bathroom,” you told him and he took his arm from around you. You rolled off of him carefully but he still hissed as he slipped out of you. You walked to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up before joining him again.

“My turn.” He rolled out of bed with an exaggerated groan and you ogled him as he sauntered to the bathroom. You tried your best to keep your eyes open but your body screamed for sleep and you gave in.

---

When you woke up, the room was dark and Javier was not beside you. You sat up quickly and looked around only to find him out on the balcony smoking a cigarette. The moonlight shined down on him giving him a lovely glow.

You rolled out of bed and found your panties then found his shirt and put it on before joining him. “I thought you left,” you confessed.

“Nope. Just needed a cigarette.” He finally looked at you and smirked. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks. I borrowed it.” You looked out over the beautiful land and mountains in the distance. You’d never get tired of this view.

“I want you to know that this wasn’t a one-time thing.” He put his cigarette out and turned to you. “This means something to me.”

“Me too.” You moved closer to him and he wrapped his arm around you. He tilted your head up and kissed you. It started off as an innocent kiss but it became deeper, more passionate. Soon he was picking you up and placing you on the banister of the balcony. “If I fall and die, I’m haunting you forever.”

“Please do.” You both laughed then kissed again and you found yourself sliding your hand into his jeans.

“You didn’t put your underwear back on?” you asked.

“I came out here for a quick smoke, not to be judged on my fashion choices. And you’re one to talk. A shirt, my shirt…and panties.”

“You love it.” You stroke him to hardness and soon he’s thrusting into your hand. He looked at you and you nodded. He ran to the bedside table and grabbed a condom before running back out and pulling himself out of his jeans and putting the condom on.

“I fucking do.” He pushed the shirt open, revealing your breasts. His hands found your panties then slid them aside. “Still?” he asked after finding you wet and ready for him.

“Please Javier…”

He held you tightly as he pushed into you, moving slowly and carefully. You wrapped your arms and legs around him. It felt so fucking good but you couldn’t believe you were doing this. You were fucking Javier on your balcony while wearing his shirt. If you did fall and die you could only imagine what people would say. You hid your face in his neck as he fucked you, whispering sweet words in Spanish.

“I don’t wanna go to Mexico,” you said against his neck.

He pulled your head up so you could look at him. “Then don’t. Stay. I want you to stay.” You nodded then kissed him.

---

When you both lay in bed, spent and satisfied, he ran his fingers over your skin subconsciously. His eyes were closed but he wasn’t asleep yet.

“Say-"

“I love you,” he said just as you were about to speak. “Oh sorry…what were you gonna say?”

“I was gonna say ‘say you love me again’ but you beat me to it.” You kissed his nose and he smiled sleepily. “I love you, Javier Peña.”

God help you. You were in love with him.

When you look at me with those brown eyes What do you want to do Do you have to have me The way that I want you I want you

When you look at me with those brown eyes What do you want…

Tags: @longitud-de-onda @pascalisthepunkest @misslolasworld @aeryntheofficial @ah-callie @mrsparknuts @loki-098 @huliabitch @thinemineours @flapjacques @opheliaelysia @readsalot73 @pascalispedro

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Narcos #Pedro Pascal #headcanon

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years ago

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A Queens Gambit Christmas P14

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: VARIOUS RATING: ADORABLE AF

I sat drinking my wine looking at the board, beth and Jolene owned every from income tax to free parking with hotels and houses on everything, harry and Towen's had the train stations and the electric company and I think one of the greens but where running low on money, Matt and Mike had the water works and one green property, and almost everything else on the board was owned by me and Benny. Harry nervous rolled the dice, seven. He hopped the little piece along landing on one of the pinks. I prayed for him and Beth and Jolene smiled flipping thought there cards whispering amung themselves "That's one thousand two hundred and sixty please boys" beth smirked "What! Beth that's ridiculous!" Towen's complained "Well, we have the full pink set, and three hotels," Jolene explained Harry snatched the card from her "It says a monopoly with three hotels is only nine hundred!' harry whined "Yeah we'll we put you in the vip suite" beth smiled "We don't need the vip just nine hundred it's all your getting" towens sighed counting it out and giving it to Jolene who added it to the piles of money beth then grabbed the dice throwing them, four. She moved the piece but landed on there own "ahh our hotel, maybe I'll go to the little spa" "You boys turn" I laughed handed them the dice and they where close to me they rolled nervously, nine. They hopped there little peice along but turned white when landing in the purples that I and Benny owned with hotels "Oohh uhh that's one thousand five hundred dollars" Benny read in our little card he held his hand out expectantly to them and Mike held there few colourful dollars from in there hands "Y/n, please your our sister, can't we stay for free?" Matt begged "Sorry boys," I giggled nuzzling on Benny shoulder "But we can't afford that" Mike explained "Well then I'll take what you have," Benny smirked "how much?" He asked as nuke handed over the last of there money "Three hundred" Matt sighed "I'll take the water works too then" Benny smirked "But-' "You have to pay boys" I giggled and they regretfully handed it over "Your still short, oxford. Hand it over" "But it's all we have" "Shouldn't have rolled a nine" Matt sighed and handed it over "we give in, where out" The two went to get more cookies handing me oxford street so I smiled putting it in with the rest of our properties Benny took the dice and looked at our queen nervously of he rolled less then six we would be trapped in beth and Jolene's properties too as currently we where safe on our own he shook then in his hand a little worried holding his fist towards me and I smiled giving his hand a kiss for luck, he rolled, seven. "Yes!' he sighed in relief as we skipped over there properties and got a chance card "ooohh we won second prize in a beauty contest honey" "Yay! People think we're almost beautiful" I smiled "Awww I think your beautiful honey" he smiled giving me a kiss "twenty dollars, please banker" he smirked putting the card down we got our money tidying it away and I heard harry sigh "We're out, no way in hell we can keep up we're just delaying the inevitable" "Biddings open on the electrics and bond street" Towen's explained "What do you care if your not playing anymore?" Beth asked "I don't know, Wanna make you fight for them" he shrugs "Six hundred" Benny yelled as we needed both of them "Nine hundred" beth yelled "One thousand" "One thousand and five bucks in real money" "Two thousand and ten bucks of real money" "Ten bucks and I'll let you both sleep with Jolene" "Hey! I am not a bid" Jolene complained "Yes you are hun" Beth smiled "so... Top that watts?" ".... I'll let you both have sex with me?" Benny suggested "I'm in" Towen's said "Hell no" harry answered "beth wins" he then handed her the cards and they both sat with some beer beth wouldn't stop smirking at Benny waving the last green we needed to tease him "You know what, I'm done. You win girls" Benny sighed "that okay honey?" "Perfectly fine Benny" I smiled giving him a kiss as we cuddled up together "it's getting late, we should all get to bed" "Alright, so we are all sleeping out here?" Matt asked "Yep" Benny answered "Except you two I'm guessing?" Jolene asks "Yeah, our house we get the bed" "Why can't we all share your bed?" Towen's asks "All of us won't fit on our little bed" I laughed "But it's hardly hair you two get a cosy bed and we all get the floor" harry complained "How about, we drag the matress out here and we'll all sleep in the living room like a sleep over?" I suggest even if Benny didn't seem to happy with the idea we agreed so everyone began taking turns getting changed in either the bedroom or the bathroom and Benny moved our matress, covers and pillows onto the living room floor having moved the tables away cushions and blankets everywhere as we all got ready for bed. "

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marvelstarwarsetc · 5 years ago

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All We Know- Daryl Dixon

PART NINE

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Cussing, Violence, Gore (The fact that its the walking dead should be warning enough lol)

Summary: Finding her way back to her sisters was all that mattered to her. When the world ended she had lost everything, so finding them became all that mattered. Or at least, it was, until she stumbled across a redneck hunting in the woods.

*Starts in Season 1 and will be a multi part fic*

Part One Part two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Seven (Daryl’s POV) Part Eight

Dr. Edwin Jenner was a kind-looking man in his mid to late 40′s, his light brown hair was just starting to grey, whether from age or the stress of the new world was yet to be determined. He worked at the CDC as a virologist before the world turned, and according to him was the only one who stuck around when it became obvious there was nothing they could do to stop this from spreading.

After he granted the worn down group entry after they all submitted to a blood test, his guarded expression and apprehension for the other survivors fell and he opened them with seemingly open arms.

It was when Jacqui mentioned no one had had a decent meal in days that Dr. Jenner served up a kind of feast that no one in the group had seen in a long time. The round table was filled with bowls of pasta and a seemingly endless supply of wine, and the group all sat around tables with warm happy expressions. Even Andrea wore a small smile, and Y/n’s smile widened a little at the sight.

The Harrison sisters still hadn’t spoken a word to each other, both still too upset with the other over the things that had happened at the quarry. So while Andrea sat on one end of the table between Dale and Shane, Y/n kept her distance on the other end as she sat with Glenn and T-dog.

Dr Jenner had offered to fix up the younger Harrison’s battered face a little better than Lori and Carol could, and the mix of appropriate medical supplies and antibacterial cream had already made a huge difference on her face. The swelling had gone down significantly, and her vision was finally clear again thanks to that fact.

“You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France,” Dale stopped behind Carl as he was filling everyone’s empty glasses at the table. He was looking to Lori for confirmation, who seemed conflicted for a second before she shook her head.

“Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then.”

“What’s it gonna hurt? Come on. Come on.” Rick gently tried to convince his wife, his eyebrows wiggling playfully at her as he did so. The action made Y/n’s smile soften at the playful family banter, and her eyes met her sister’s from across the table before they both looked away again.

Finally Lori conceded and Dale laughed lightly while he handed Carl a glass with half an inch of wine in it. “There you are, young lad.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch as Carl looked at the liquid in his glass with a curious expression, before lifting the glass to his lips and took a small sip.

When Carl let out a sound in disgust everyone laughed at the young boy, and then Y/n found herself looking across the table to where Daryl sat up on a counter, laughing along with everyone else and seeming relaxed. He had a handgun shoved into the front of his jeans, sticking out around the yellow plaid shirt he was wearing, the sleeves of course torn off like all of his other shirts. Y/n briefly noticed the small patch of skin by his stomach that was exposed thanks to the gun, and she quickly averted her eyes when she felt her face start to heat up. But of course the action didn’t go unnoticed by Glenn, who looked at her with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows, garnering a punch to the arm.

“That’s my boy. That’s my boy. Good boy,” Lori praised her son, pulling him to her in a side hug before she picked up his glass and poured the wine into her own.

“Yuck. That tastes nasty.”

“Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud,” Shane told his best friend’s son, handing the small boy a can from the center of the filled table.

Daryl jumped off the counter at that, and rounded over to Glenn. “Not you, Glenn.”

“What?” Glenn asked the hunter in a confused tone, watching as he grabbed the bottle of wine off the able where Dale had put it down and filled Glenn’s glass to the top.

“Keep drinking, little man. I wan’ see how red yer face can get.” He shook the Korean’s shoulders, everyone laughing at the sight.

It didn’t go unnoticed when Y/n finished the last of what was in her glass and pushed it to the center of the table, seemingly done with drinking for the night. Daryl only clicked his tongue and grabbed the glass, filling it a little less than he had filled Glenn’s and pushed it back into the blonde’s hand. “Uh-uh, yer not done yet either sunshine!”

Y/n went to say something in her defense when Rick started to tap his fork against his glass, everyone stopping to look at the man.

“It seems to me we haven’t thanked our host properly,” He declared, turning everyone’s attention to where Dr Jenner sat off to the side by himself.

“He is more than just our host,” T-dog added, earning a chorus of hear hears and a loud booyah from Daryl.

The doctor smiled at the sentiment for a moment, before Shane spoke up, turning the happy moment into a somber one.

“So when are you gonna tell us what the Hell happened here, Doc? All the—the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?”

“We’re celebrating, Shane. Don’t need to do this now,” Rick tried to stop his best friend, but Shane wasn’t having any of it as he continued.

“Whoa, wait a second. This is why we’re here, right? This was your move—supposed to find all the answers. Instead we—we found him. Found one man, why?”

“Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted.” The doctor explained, yet Y/n could sense he was leaving something out.

“Every last one?”

“No, many couldn’t face walking out the door. They… opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time.”

“You didn’t leave. Why?” Andrea asked.

“I just kept working, hoping to do some good.”

With that everyone went quiet, not exactly knowing what to say further. The happy mood had gone now, and Glenn looked to Shane with a disappointed look. “Dude, you are such a buzz kill, man.”

----

When it was clear that there would be no more celebrating for the night Dr Jenner guided the group down to the living area.

“Most of the facility is powered down including housing so you’ll have to make do here. The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like. There’s a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy. Just don’t plug in the video games, okay? Or anything that draws power. The same applies—if you shower, go easy on the hot water.”

“Hot water?” Glenn asked excitedly, looking around towards the rest of the group with a huge smile.

“That’s what the man said!” T-dog confirmed as the two ran off down the hall laughing.

----

After Y/n had taken advantage of the hot water, she found herself roaming the halls of the CDC aimlessly, looking for someone to hangout with as she couldn’t take being alone right now. When she was alone her mind drifted to places she’d rather not think of, and sleep wasn’t an option right now as the things she was trying to avoid while awake always caught up to her while she was sleeping.

In her aimless walking she found herself getting lost in her head anyway, and when Daryl’s voice boomed down the hallway after her she jumped in surprise, earning her a soft laugh and a shake of the head from the hunter.

“Where ya off to?” He asked, a bottle of whiskey held in his hand. He regarded her with a soft smile, and she shrugged her shoulders in response to his question, not having a better answer.

“Just walking, I guess,” She started. “Didn’t really feel like being alone,” She admitted, and Daryl looked at her for a second before he turned in the other direction abruptly and started walking off down the hallway.

When she didn’t follow him for a moment he looked back over his shoulder at her.

“Well c’mon then girl.”

----

The two found themselves sitting on the floor of the room Y/n had claimed for the night. They both sat with their backs pressed against the couch, sitting far enough away from one another that they weren’t touching, but close enough to where they could if they both moved over an inch.

For a while neither said anything, just sat in a comfortable silence as they passed the bottle of whiskey to one another quietly.

“So why ya ain’t wanna be alone?” He asked her in a quiet voice, looking ahead of them at the wall.

She looked over at him for a fraction of a second before looking back at the wall too, shrugging her shoulders yet again.

“Bein’ alone is hard sometimes I guess,” She admitted in a small voice.

“ “M sorry bout Amy, by the way. Don’ think I ever said nothin.”

She found herself looking at the man beside her. This up close she could see that his shaggy hair was a little darker brown than she had originally thought, still lighter than Rick’s brown locks. His facial hair had grown a little longer than it was when they had first met in the woods, but she could tell he must have trimmed it to be a little neater when he showered earlier. His muscled arms had a warm tan that went all the way up to his shoulders, probably in thanks to the fact that none of his shirts had sleeves and he spent most of his time in the woods. She could also tell that he probably spent most of his time outside before the world turned, as his tan didn’t seem like it was anything new to the hunter.

When he finally looked over at her she faced back towards the wall, her face heating up at being caught staring.

“I never thanked you,” She started, finishing when he gave her a confused look.

“For taking out that walker I didn’t see back at camp, when everything happened.”

“Ya don’ gotta thank me for that, Walker was comin’ at ya. Wasn’ gon’ let it get ya.”

She hummed in response before gently taking the bottle from him and downed a good amount of the amber liquid, scrunching her face up when the burn registered in her throat.

“Can I ask ya somethin’?” He questioned suddenly, causing her to look back at him again. He was staring at her face intently, and after a moment she realized he was looking at her various cuts and bruises. She hummed in answer to him and he stopped for a second before continuing.

“Why ya let ‘er do that to ya?”

For a second she was caught off guard because the more she thought of why, the more she didn’t know why. At the time it was because she knew she could take a hit and that Andrea needed to blow off some steam. She was just so used to letting people blow off steam that she didn’t even realize that it was wrong.

“She needed to blow off some steam,” Y/n responded lamely, avoiding his eyes and what she might see in them.

But if she had looked over at the hunter she would have seen something in his eyes she wasn’t expecting. Understanding. It was then that Daryl understood that taking a beating wasn’t something new to Y/n. Even if taking it from Andrea was. She was used to taking that kind of behavior. It was something he knew all too well, and it was something he never wanted her to take again.

“Don’ mean ya gotta be the one to take it.”

She was going to say something back to him, but suddenly came back to her senses and changed the topic entirely. For the rest of the night the two just continued to pass the bottle to each other, making small talk and staying away from anything personal. Even if they both wished they could tell the other more about themselves.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead

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03josten · 5 years ago

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THREE SIX NINE GIRLS WANNA DRINK WINE TELL THE MAN NOT TO WASTE YOUR TIME

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babymetaldoll · 3 years ago

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Danger Days - Chapter fourteen: "Love, hate, love"

Word count: 8,8K

Summary: The band is decided to take care of Joey, and for once, she is ok with that. Gerard is trying to find a way to get closer to her while Matthew... gets drunk again.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, cheating, angst, a lot of crying.

A/N: I want a friend like Mikey in my life. Do you guys think Joey will forgive Matthew? Would you do it? also, I love how honest Frank is with Joey. Gerard really hates him at this point hehehe.

Not my gif, and all this shit is fiction.

Masterlist

::: Valencia, March 11th, 2011 :::

Joey's eyes were wide opened as she laid on her bed. She hadn't slept at all. Mikey was snoring next to her. He had stayed over to take care of her after everybody left. But he fell asleep, and the girl stayed up the whole night, not able to move or to do anything but to stare at the heart locket on her bedside table. It felt like bullshit to her now. What seemed to be so romantic was now nothing but a pile of lies.

Memories kept coming to her head. All of the times together with Matthew, their whole happiness. All the days they spent working on the house he had bought for them, and all the nights they sat in their new back yard to look at the stars, drink some wine and sleep in an inflatable mattress they had put in their bedroom. But what she remembered the most was the day they met. The day their whole story together had started, and how now Joey wished to go back in time and change it all. Ignore him, never talking to him, not even being in that studio that day. Anything that might keep her from the pain she was feeling now.

She had reached the studio early that morning. She had a meeting with a band at ten to record a demo. They needed a studio drummer, and Billy, the producer, contacted her. She had learned the songs; there were just three on the setlist. That shouldn't take more than three days in the whole process, including production.

Joey went through her warm-up and stretching before Billy walked in with two cups of coffee.

- "Thank you."

- "You are gonna need it,"- he said and cut her a short smile- "As far as I can tell, these guys are hyper"- the girl smiled and nodded.

- "Noted, hyper kids."

The drummer already had a lot of practice recording with random bands and some pretty known bands too. Yet, she wasn't ready for the tornado of energy that was about to go through the door that day.

The band was pretty funny and easy-going. Their music wasn't really in Joey's favorite playlist, but she was professional enough to give her best no matter what. Their friend, though, that guy was driving her insane. This very tall thin guy with light brown hair kept jumping with every song they played. He was sugar rushed or in coke. There was no way anyone would be that energetic on his own. And he had an opinion for every part of every song. Their friends loved him, it was clear, that's why they brought him along, but Joey was trying to do her work.

- "Hey,"- he said to her at the end of the session. He hadn't talked to her in the whole day- "That was pretty cool what you did back there."

- "Thanks"- she simply answered and looked for her backpack.

- "I mean, you played amazing, but the way you managed not to kill me through the whole day, though it was clear I was driving you insane, that was outstanding"- and the girl chuckled, she hated it 'cos she didn't want to, but that had been funny indeed.

- "It took a lot of will and mental strength, I must confess, you were pretty annoying,"- she answered with a snarky smile.

- "I'm sorry in advance for the next three or four days then"- the girl sighed and nodded.

- "Thanks, I guess."

- "Hey, can I try to make it up to you?"

- "By not to eat anything with sugar or take any coffee before coming tomorrow? Because that would be awesome"- and Matthew laughed. An honest big, and sincere laugher.

- "No, I was going to ask you if you wanted to get a coffee now with me..."

- "How much coffee do you have during the day?"- the drummer asked, raising an eyebrow.

- "A lot"- he simply answered- "So, what do you say? I promise I won't be annoying, or at least just the decent amount of annoying to be tolerable."

Joey didn't know what to reply. It had been ages since anyone had asked her out, and that guy was breathtakingly hot. Was it a prank? Why would he want to go out with her?

- "How are you planning not to be annoying?"- she asked and narrowed her eyes.

- "You can pinch me every time I get annoying,"- Gubler grinned, looking pretty excited to go out with her- "I know you want to pinch me."

Joey smiled and kept her eyes on his. He gave her the most adorable puppy eyes, and not even thinking about it, she accepted.

And that was the first of a thousand coffees they shared in almost a year together. They had even talked about getting married around the same date they had started dating. But now, none of that mattered anymore.

- "Mother fucker"- she whispered and slowly got out of bed. Mikey was still asleep. She wondered around the room, not knowing what to do. She went through all the things the guys had left upon a dresser: chocolate bars, filled chocolate, M&M, fun-size Snickers, all of her favorites candies. Frank's whiskey bottle, even a Pride and Prejudice Bluray.

- "You guys are awesome,"- she whispered and grabbed a bunch of candy. She looked through her things as she ate. It felt nothing was hers anymore. It felt that wasn't her life or her clothing. Not even her mind. She was out of herself. Her phone was nowhere to be seen. Probably Mikey had it hidden, just like she had done for him when he broke up with his wife. Now the tables had turned. And it felt weird. Wrong. Bad.

Joey had a knot in her stomach as she kept eating Snicker after Snicker. Still, she couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop. She found Matthew's shirts among her clothes, and her body shivered at the smell of his perfume still in the fabric. She could almost see his face, hear his voice, feel his hands on her skin. The same hands that had cheated.

Tears started falling right away. Still, she couldn't stop smelling the shirt. She couldn't stop thinking about him, about his face, his kisses, everything. But yet, she was so mad, so sad, so confused. Her stomach started aching, and the girl started retching. She ran to the bathroom and puked the few candies she had eaten. That was all that was left in her stomach.

- "Bug, hey..."- Mikey appeared running and kneeled next to her.

- "I'm ok, I just... I'm still..."- the girl sighed and wiped off the tears from her face, flushing. Mikey reached the mouthwash for her- "Thank you"- Joey clumsy stood up and spat in the sink.

- "Did you get any sleep?"

- "Not really"- the honesty of her answer surprised him. He was ready to deal with a girl in denial of her state. Instead, somehow, she just answered the truth. He decided to take another shot.

- "Are you hungry?"

- "Of course not. I just puked."

- "What do you wanna do today?"

- "Stay in here, in my pajamas, and watch shitty tv. How is your schedule for today? What do you have to do?"

- "Stay here in my pajama watching shitty tv with you,"- she cut him a sweet smile as she crawled into bed again.

- "You don't have to do that, Mikey. You have to work."

- "I know I don't have to, I want to do it for you"- he made a pause, grabbed the phone, and called room service.

- "Thank you,"- she whispered and heard him asking for two breakfasts.

- "Besides,"- Mikey added, after hanging up and getting into bed with her- "It's not like I have to show up and answer questions I've answered a million times before. That's why Gerard's the lead singer. He loves the attention."

Joey smiled and hugged Mikey, resting her head on his chest as he surfed channels.

- "Yeah, he is a little diva sometimes."

- "A little? Sometimes?"- Mikey chuckled- "Oh Bug, you have no idea..."

Gerard was walking on his own after the first interview. He asked for a few minutes to get something, and Worm came along to make sure he made it alive.

- "Dude, help, what can I give Joey?"

- "Is her birthday again or something?"

- "No, she broke up with Gubler, and I need something that might cheer her up."

- "Fuck! How is she?"

- "Locked in her room... what can I give her?"

- "Chocolates."- Worm answered right away.

- "Mikey got her a million of her favorites."

- "Booze."

- "Frank got her favorite whiskey."

- "Shit... movies to kill time?"- the man looked at Gerard and nodded- "So Ray got her movies?"

- "They had like a "break up kit" in their fucking bags or something. They know what to do, what to say to her, how to comfort her. And I ended up looking at her from a distance like... awkward and out of place."- Gerard was opening himself up at his friend.

- "Well, think of something that might help her use her time and mind to refocus her into something other than the breakup. Maybe a book"- Gerard nodded and kept looking at the window glazes. Instinctively he stood outside a stationery shop. He thought about it as he looked inside. To draw was an excellent way to kill time. Would she like that?

- "Why not?"- he said and walked in. After a few minutes, he stepped out with not two but three bags filled with art supplies.

- "Did you leave anything left in the store?"- Frank asked when he saw his friend carrying so many notebooks and pencils, you could think he was starting a store of his own. The two of them, plus Ray, got into the van to go to their following interview.

- "Funny. I just got Joey a few things to help her think of something else."

- "Cool man, good idea"- Ray smiled and took a look inside- "I just checked with Mikey. They were watching a movie."

- "How is she?"- Gerard asked as the van traveled through Valencia.

- "She didn't sleep, she hasn't eaten, Mikey was fighting to get her to eat some cereal... she was crying and puking when he woke up."

Gerard's heart ached in his chest as he heard Ray's words. He needed to find a way to make her feel better. But how? How if he never got to talk to her?

- "Any news from the asshole?"- Gerard asked, and Frank nodded.

- "Mikey has her phone off, so no one knows anything about him."

- "Do you think he is gonna show up?"- the singer asked, and both Ray and Frank looked at each other.

- "I think so,"- Toro said- "He is in love with her after all."

- "After all?"- Iero turned to him and frowned- "The fucker broke her heart! I don't want him near my little Bug in a thousand years."

Gerard wanted to hit Frank after calling her "his little Bug."

- "What the fuck is his problem? She ain't his. She is mine."

- "Frank, we are her friends, and we have to support her, but if she ever decides to get back with him again, even when we both know that's nearly impossible, we have to respect her. Ok?"- Ray was very rational about it, mostly 'cos he had lived it with other friends before- "So if he gets here, we can't do anything."

- "What do you mean "we can't do anything"?"- Frank frowned right away, frustrated- "I'm not gonna let that asshole near her."

- "Me neither, man"- Gerard adds- "And I can't believe you are saying this amount of shit after how she was yesterday."

- "It's called experience, Gerard. So remember, this whole shit ain't about how mad we are with Gubler, but about how much we want our friend to be happy, no matter what!"

Ray used his "dad" voice, and his friends couldn't argue with that. That was Raymond Toro's superpower: Super Dad.

Matthew looked at his mom and sighed. He still had three more days of shooting, and he was about to quit. Gubler barely had the strength to get out of bed that morning. He hadn't eaten. He looked like shit. He didn't want to be in the movie anymore. He gave a fuck about everything. So his mother came along to work with him and sat closely, reading a book, trying to comfort him in any way. Yes, that's how much Matthew loved his mother. And he cared shit if anyone made fun of him.

- "I can't do this, mom,"- he said as he walked to her by the end of a scene, he had some time to wait for things to be ready at the following location- "I mean, what the fuck am I doing here? I have to go to her! I have to tell her that I'm sorry"- he grabbed his phone and dialed- "Still off... Yami, please listen to me. I need to talk to you. This can't be it. I need you to listen to me."

- "Voicemail full"- a computer voice warned and finished the call.

- "Shit! Shit! Shit!"- the young man hit the wall next to him a couple of times as his face turned red in anger and desperation.

- "Matthew, please calm down, you are gonna go, but you need to be calm when you meet her. You have to put yourself together first. What are you going to tell her? How are you going to approach her?"- he sighed and walked around in front of his mother.

- "I just need to talk to her now!"- he whispered, pouting. He had never needed anyone as much as he needed Joey at that moment.

- "She has to make her process too. If you run to her now, you are both going to be still hyperventilated with what happened, you are going to be irrational, you know you will, and she is going to be still so hurt and mad she won't think straight"- Matthew sighed and looked at the ground- "Let the things cool down for a few days."

- "I still need to talk to her. I have to call her."

- "Just make sure you don't sound like a madman when you get to talk to her, ok?"

- "Do I sound like a madman now?"- his mother smiled at held his chin for a second

- "As I had never heard you before... you are in love, baby, it's ok to be a madman... just... try to keep a mind straight when it comes to talking to her, don't scare her away."

Matthew nodded and sighed. His mother's words made sense, but how to calm himself down when he felt he was dying inside? He grabbed his phone and dialed. Still off.

- "Can you come over tonight?"- he wrote and sent the text to Paget, his best friend.

- "Sure, is everything ok?"

- "Tell you tonight."

The band reached Joey's room at lunchtime. They brought pizza and beer, but she didn't want either. They talked to her about their day, the interviews, and Gerard gave her his present. That was the one thing Joey was excited about. She loved drawing and coloring, though she sucked at it.

- "Thank you, Gerard!"- she said and cut him a shy smile- "I wanted to get some of these things for a while and never did"- and the singer smiled proudly. He had finally done one thing right.

- "Hey, if you want, I can teach you a few things so you can start your comic,"- he said and sat next to her.

- "Thanks..."- she nodded but didn't look into the idea. Gerard was probably pushing too hard. But he had gotten so excited with her reaction he thought it was the solution to the whole situation. Nothing was farther from the truth.

- "Come on, Bug, we brought your favorite pizza,"- Frank said and sat next to her- "It has all the bacon in Spain."

- "I'm not hungry,"- she whispered and didn't take her eyes from the art supplies.

- "You've barely eaten,"- Mikey said and held her hand, looking at her so worried, it made Joey feel guilty for having her friend like that. It wasn't fair.

- "Bróðir, I am ok. I ate that cereal you gave me."

- "You threw it up twenty minutes later"- she closed her eyes and sighed- "Do you always throw up when you are upset?"- and she nodded. She didn't want to say a word about it. When Joey was a kid, she had many anxiety problems; she always threw up when she felt stressed. It was the way her body worked to cope with whatever it was that she was feeling.

- "Just a slice, I don't care if you vomit it,"- Frank insisted. She held it and took the tiniest bite possible in a poor attempt to make her friend happy. He just kept looking at her, forcing her to take another bite.

- "Do you have to go to work after lunch?"- she whispered and looked at her fingers playing with the bacon on her pizza.

- "Yeah, Bug. Mikey should probably go shower, but I'm gonna stay with you."

- "I'm not a baby, Ray"- the girl frowned- "I can be alone."

- "I know you can, I just feel like staying here, watch a bunch of movies... maybe sleep a little, I don't wanna go to work,"- Ray simply replied.

- "Guys, I know you are being too cute and adorable right now, and from the bottom of my heart, I am forever grateful for it, but I can stay alone. Nothing is gonna happen."

Mikey moved closer to Joey in the bed and wrapped an arm around her.

- "Sure, you are gonna be ok, but right now, we just wanna be with you... just today, ok? Tomorrow you are on your own,"- she turned and raised an eyebrow at him- "I promise."

- "Fine..."

- "Now eat"- he commanded and moved her pizza closer to her.

- "When are you going to give me my phone back?"- she asked after a while.

- "Tomorrow"- Mikey simply replied.

- "What's the plan for tomorrow, by the way?"- Joey asked and looked at her friends- "Do we have to be at the festival the whole day?"

- "No, but we have to be there early,"- Gerard said and chewed his food- "We have to do some press there, and you should come along."

- "I'm good, thanks."

- "No, really, it was great when we did that radio with you, and you've been great all along this tour, so... it would be great if you were there with us... how many times did I just say "great"?"- Joey smiled at Gerard and looked back at her pizza.

- "Like a million times, dude,"- Frank answered- "Hey, where's the veggie pizza?"

It was very heartwarming and, at the very same time, very overwhelming for Joey to feel that amount of love from her friends. She didn't see it coming. That afternoon, she and Ray watched Pride and Prejudice together, and she even allowed herself to share a few tears during those 90 minutes. Ray pretended he never noticed, and that made her happy.

She picked a bunch of other chick flicks she liked, and her friend watched them all, sleeping a little bit from time to time. Joey wasn't able to close an eye. Every time she took her mind off the movie, she thought of Matthew and started crying again.

By the time the rest of the band arrived again, with more booze, more food, and a whole bag of candies, Ray had watched Clueless, 10 things I hate about you and Ever After. He was pretty surprised to know Joey could recite from memory most of the dialogues in those movies. He never thought she could be so... girly.

- "Hey Bug!"- Mikey practically ran to her- "What are you doing?"

- "Coloring this mandala book Gerard got me"- it felt like she was a little kid and Ray was her nanny- "I don't know why people say this is relaxing; I find it pretty stressful"- Mikey looked at it and smiled.

- "Looks pretty cool to me."

- "Let me see"- Gerard said and walked to her, sitting for the very first time, next to her- "Yeah, that looks stressful"- he whispered, and she smiled- "But there was another coloring book in the bag."

- "I feel like I'm five years old,"- she whispered and looked at the singer in the eyes. He cut her a big smile and grabbed a notebook from his bag.

- "I stopped to buy ten comic books today, so that would make two of us."

- "What did you get?"- that conversation kept going. Gerard couldn't believe it.

- "I saw a few X-Men issues in Spanish, and I thought it would be a nice addition to my collection."

- "Nice..."- Frank moved closer and messed with the girl's hair.

- "I brought you a Dr. Pepper,"- he whispered and kissed her cheek.

- "Thank you, Jersey."

- "I also got you fries"- he smiled and raised an eyebrow- "You can't say no to fries..."- and damn it, Frank was right- "Cheesy fries"- he added with a low sexy voice.

- "I hate you, Frank."

- "It's time for you to face it, Iceland, you love me, you can't live without my pretty face making you laugh"- he teased her and chuckled. She kept her eyes in his and cut him a short smile.

- "Fuck you, Jersey"- she whispered but smiled and snuggled closer to him- "I love you. You are a psycho brother with the ability to make me want to punch you."

- "You are that hot second cousin I would nail,"- Frank answered with a chuckle and a low voice. Joey giggled and hit him simultaneously. Gerard froze, thinking there was no way Iero could be so honest with her about his thoughts, not making her mad.

- "Shut up. Why do you always ruin every single moment we've got together?"

- "'Cos... you laugh when I do, and I love to hear you laugh"- the girl chuckled and blushed.

- "Just give me the damn fries."

Gerard looked at his friend in shock. He had flirted, and she smiled. What the fuck was that? It was so clear everybody was closer to her than him... and she told him she loved him.

- "Damn it! You are not going anywhere tonight until you get fucking closer to this girl."

Around midnight, Ray and Frank stood up. Joey was still laid on her bed, wide awake, watching Lethal Weapon with Mikey.

- "Kids, you should go to bed"- Ray announced and put on his shoes- "We've got a big day tomorrow, and you should all rest, especially you, Bug. The dark rings under your eyes will not be covered with makeup, and we will be on tv tomorrow."

- "I'll sleep, I promise"- she whispered and nodded.

- "Are you going to be ok with these two?"- Frank asked after kissing the top of her head.

- "These two are leaving soon, so I'll be ok"- she made a pause and held Frank's hand- "Thank you, Jersey."

- "There is nothing to thank, Iceland. You are my friend, and I'll protect you no matter what."

- "Yeah... what you did yesterday when you yelled at... at him"- Joey couldn't even really say his name- "Well... thank you-" he smiled and winked.

- "Anytime"

- "I love you, dad,"- the girl said as Ray walked over. She wrapped her arms around him and felt him kiss her forehead.

- "Please, try to sleep."

- "I will ... and thank you for watching chick flicks with me."

- "Anytime you want."

- "Really? You won't get sick of the clichés?"- she smiled and wrinkled her nose.

- "No, maybe next time I'll pick a couple when we are on the bus."

- "Dad, it's a date."

- "Sleep tight."

Joey nodded and watched her friends walking out. Mikey kept his eyes on the tv as he ate a bag of M&Ms. Gerard was sitting at the other side of the bed, drawing in silence. The girl sighed and watched tv for a while, but her mind was somewhere else.

- "You should take a bath,"- Gerard whispered suddenly- "If you are going to try to sleep, maybe a hot shower can help you."

- "I thought I smelled so bad you were gonna force me"- Joey answered, not even looking at him.

- "Joey, I've lived with you for a lot of months so far, and I've been locked with you after playing shows covered in sweat"- Gee made a pause and smiled- "You've never smelled bad"- she rolled her eyes, but a slight smile appeared on her lips.

- "You've never been close enough to smell me."

- "She is right, she gets nasty"- and Mikey got smacked by a pillow after those words.

- "Fine, I'll shower..."- but before moving an inch, the girl looked at her friend and asked- "Can you give me my phone back?"

- "Tomorrow."

- "I want to call my parents"- Mikey took his phone from his pocket and gave it to her.

- "Use mine"- she huffed and dialed.

Gerard watched her walk around the room, speaking half in Spanish, half in English with her mother, and then half in Icelandic, half in English with her dad. It was a funny scene to see; he had never seen it. He had never seen a lot of her habits, and yet he had fallen in love with her. Why? How?

- "Dude, I'm talking to you"- Mikey said and threw him an empty bag of candy.

- "Sorry, what?"

- "Can you stay with her for a while? I have to go to my room and take the biggest dump on earth"- Gerard frowned, disgusted, and nodded.

- "Using the bathroom would have been enough, dude."

- "No, it wouldn't, you need to know the disgusting details of my organism..."- Mikey started gathering his things, and Joey frowned as she watched him.

- "Where are you going?"

- "To take a shit"

- "Please don't use my bathroom. You are gross. It's like there's a corpse coming out of you every time"- Joey simply says, and Gerard burst out laughing.

- "Best description ever!"

- "Here's your phone, bróðir."

- "Thank you, Bug"- he grabbed it, put on his shoes, his backpack, and hugged his friend tight- "I love you."

- "I know. I love you too."

- "I'll leave you with Gerard. Are you gonna be ok?"

- "I'll be fine,"- his older brother answered and never took his eyes from the paper, scared of looking at Joey under the circumstances. He was finally going to be alone with her. What was going to happen?

- "I was talking to her, dumbass"- Gerard flipped the bird to Mikey as Joey stayed hugged to his younger brother. He wished she could hug him like that one day. That night maybe...

- "You are the best brother on earth"- she whispered- "Now please go to your room and sleep."

- "Eat some chocolates, take a bath and fall asleep, ok?"- Joey nodded, and Mikey left the room.

Suddenly she realized it was just her and Gerard. For the first time in weeks. But her mind didn't have room to think about anything else but the pain she was feeling. She missed Matthew so much; watching Lethal Weapon was the best idea at the moment.

Gerard kept drawing in silence, and Joey watched the movie until it was over. She ate a few more Snickers and went through the pages of one of the mandala coloring books Gerard had given her.

- "Are you going to take that bath?"- he asked her. But she didn't answer. She had spaced out, staring at her hands in front of her- "Joey? Are you ok?"

- "Yes,"- she murmured and took a deep breath- "Yeah, I'm gonna shower."

- "Do you need me to run the shower for you?"- the singer asked, standing up, but the girl excused herself, moved out of the bed quickly, grabbed a clean pajama from her bag, and locked herself in the room.

Gee looked around and sighed. He knew she wasn't ok at all, so he cleaned the room a little, threw all of the empty bags of chocolates into the paper bin, called room service to take their dinner dishes away, and made the bed.

- "Hey babe"- he whispered as Lynz picked up the phone- "How are you?"

- "Good baby, you?"

- "So fucking tired"- he might have exaggerated that a little bit- "We had an eternal day today, doing a lot of press for the festival tomorrow."

- "My sweet baby, are you in the hotel?"

- "Yeah, already in bed "In Joey's bed, asshole."

- "And how's everybody?"

- "We are all exhausted. It's been forever since we've been home."

- "I know, honey, I miss you so."

- "I miss you more, baby."

Joey sat under the hot water of the shower, crying her eyes out. She held those tears for so long that day. She needed to get them out of her system when no one could see or hear her. Under the shower was good, with water running down her whole aching body.

She felt so much pain inside it seemed to be endless. She was never going to overcome it. Joey knew it. She actually thought she could die of sorrow. And her friends had been so nice to her. She felt she had to be better, so they were calmer. She didn't want to make them sick worry about her.

- "You to put out a show from the next day and start acting like you are getting over this whole deal"- she whispered to herself and whipped off her tears- "They deserve better than a broken drummer. You have to be professional, you are here to work, and you have to fucking do your best work."

But still, she looked at the ring that was still on her finger, and the tears came back. She didn't want to take it off. She wanted to hold onto the memory of the days she was happy. But it was so hard. She had been broken-hearted before, but not like that. It had never been like this. It felt like the end of her world, and she was sure she was never going to recover from it. She wouldn't be the same woman that she was before. She just didn't know how much of the old Joey was going to survive.

- "Joey, are you ok in there?"- Gerard asked from the other side of the door- "You've been in the shower for a long while."

- "Yeah, I'm coming out in a minute,"- she answered and cleared her throat- "You can go to your room if you want to, I'm ok."

- "I'm not leaving until you are tucked and asleep into that bed, Joey."

Gerard sighed and closed his eyes. He had brought this to her. She deserved him to be nice to her. Nice, he could do nice. He just had to turn his dick off, and everything was going to be ok.

Easier said than done, clearly.

Joey walked out of the shower in her pajamas, hair already dried, and night cream on her face, 'cos she had done nothing for herself in the whole day, and a part of her needed to feel a little human again.

- "You didn't have to stay,"- the girl said as soon as she saw Gerard sitting on her bed, his back resting on the headboard.

- "I didn't want to leave"- he simply answered and tapped the bed beside him- "Come here... "- she sighed and thought a few months ago she would have been shaking as jelly under those circumstances. Now it seemed Joey couldn't even think of Gerard in any way that wasn't a friend.

She crawled into the bed and looked at what he was doing. He had been working on a sketch for a long while now.

- "What are you doing?"

- "Not much, just trying to ease my mind, I think"- he answered and showed Joey his drawings- "I've been working on characters for the stories I wanna write, so I keep making sketches of random thoughts and ideas I've got for them"- Gerard opened another folder and showed Joey some more of his work- "These I've developed for a long while, but I still don't feel they are ready."

- "How do you know they are ready?"- he hesitated for a second before answering.

- "I guess they never really are. You are constantly changing little things about them with time."

- "Like songs?"

- "Yeah"- the girl looked at the drawings in silence for a few minutes. Gerard looked at her as she stared at each sheet with detention. He analyzed her eyes, her lips, and her cheeks. She was still very pale, black rings under her eyes. But yet, for him, she was gorgeous. He was dying to hold her.

- "They are pretty cool,"- she said and handed them back.

- "Hey, did you ever finish the song you were writing the other day?"

- "The other day, you mean five months ago?"- he nodded, thinking it felt it was just a few weeks ago- "Yeah, I did."

- "Can I hear it?"

- "Sure, one day you'll hear it, not today, dude. Today, I don't want anything"- he nodded and watched her sighing.

- "Another movie?"- and she nodded- "Do you wanna pick it?"

- "No... I don't care what's on the screen as long as I don't think"- Gerard grabbed the remote control as Joey kept playing with the ring on her finger- "Are you going to..."

- "I'm not talking about it,"- she answered right away.

- "Sorry..."- he muted and surfed through the pay-per-view options until he picked up "The Goonies." Joey didn't say a word. That was one of Matthew's favorite movies. But she wanted to watch it. She wanted to feel he was close. She was so mad and so in love that she didn't know what to do.

Gerard put all his art supplies in his bag and cuddled next to Joey. He did it just like Frank had done the night before: like it wasn't a big deal at all. He wrapped an arm around her neck and moved closer. She didn't do anything against that. Instead, she rested her head on his chest and sighed. Gerard felt triumphant. She was in his arms, finally. But Joey had cuddled for one reason only: it was the best position to hide the tears that started falling slowly as the movie began. She remembered clearly the first time Matthew "forced her" to watch "The Goonies." It was a Saturday. It was raining outside. They spent the whole day in bed, watching movies, making love, eating chocolate chip hotcakes, and s'mores. It was the perfect day. Now it was just a hurtful memory.

Meanwhile, back in Los Angeles, Gubler could feel the anger coming from Paget's eyes as he came clean and told her the whole story. They were at his house drinking beer and talking. Mostly Matthew was doing all the talking, while his best friend decided which was the best moment to hit him.

- "You are fucked"- Paget simply said as he kept talking. He stopped and frowned. But nothing came from his mouth- "I can't believe you did that! You are disgusting, Matthew!!"

Paget lost it for a second. She never, in all the years she had known her best friend, ever thought he could do such a thing.

- "I know"

- "I just... why did you do it?"

- "I was drunk!"

- "That's not an excuse!! You've been drunk before! And your cock hadn't ended up in your ex-girlfriend's mouth, so be honest with me and tell me what the fuck happened?"

- "I don't know! When I noticed it wasn't Joey, I stopped it all!"

- "You thought your girlfriend was sucking your cock?"

- "Yes!"

- "And why did you make out with those girls at the dancefloor?! Everybody saw you!"

- "I lost it for a second, 'cos I was scared Joey might cheat!"- Matthew murmured and looked at the floor, so ashamed of his own words.

- "And you did it 'cos you were scared she would?!"- Paget yelled and smacked his head- "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

- "I don't know!"- the boy rubbed his hands against his face feeling the anger filling his whole body- "Don't you think I regret it?! I hate myself! I was stupid!"

- "Yes! You were fucking stupid! Do you know what it takes to get someone to love you the way she does?! Do you know how hard it is to find someone as weird as you?!"

- "I know it's hard! I know it's fucking impossible, and I know I fucked it up! But I need you to help me fix this!"

- "You could start by going to see her and beg for forgiveness!"

- "That's what I want to do, but mom said I have to give her a few days to calm down."

- "She is right, and you have to calm down too."

- "She said I sound like a mad man."

- "Madder than usual, yes"- Paget nodded, still serious- "And where is she now?"

- "Spain, she has a huge festival show tomorrow, it's gonna be televised..."

- "So you get to see her live?"- he nodded- "And after that?"

- "Germany, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, she is only staying one day at those places, she is traveling by bus, so she is going to be stuck with the band all the time. And those guys hate me."

- "Right now, I hate you too."

- "Please stop hating me and help me find a way to get to her 'cos I know they are not gonna let me."

- "They have nothing to do with this whole situation! What are you talking about?"

- "Well, they've always been very protective of her, which used to bother me a lot, until I realized they loved her like a little sister, and she is happy with that 'cos she doesn't have many friends."- Matthew was talking very fast, as the words kept coming nonstop- "Eventually, we got closer, especially with Mikey. He is like her older brother on the road, and he is so fucking nice to her for a moment, I thought he was in love with her. But it turns out he loves her as a sister, which made me happy 'cos it meant she wasn't alone in that tour."

- "To the point, Matthew."- Paget sighed, annoyed.

- "Yeah, sorry. What happened was I called her after our fight, and Frank picked up the phone and told me he is going to kill me if he ever sees me again, and threaten me to beat the shit out of me if I ever try to get near her."

- "What at asshole!"

- "I know!"

- "You completely deserved that!"

- "Paget!!"

- "You would do that for me if someone breaks my heart, so deal with it"- Gubler nodded and for a second, then chuckled.

- "A few months ago, Joey told me the same thing..."- he sighed and stayed in silence- "I miss her so much it hurts."

- "I know"

- "I need to get her back..."- his friend didn't say a word, just rubbed his arm gently and cut him a short smile.

Paget couldn't promise him he was going to get her back 'cos she knew how much it hurt being cheated on, and she had never forgiven a guy for that. And by everything Matthew had told her about Joey so far, she knew she wasn't going to do that either. But she couldn't tell him to give up either. She knew he wasn't going to.

Joey sighed. The movie was over, and she was starting to feel tired. She was afraid to sleep though, she knew she would dream with Matthew Gray, and it hurt to even think about it.

- "Ready to get some rest?"- Gerard whispered. She didn't move- "I know you are awake."

- "Are you a psychic?"- she whispered, and he just smiled.

- "I can see your reflex on the screen"- he caressed her hair softly- "Do you need anything?"

- "No... thanks."

- "Do you want me to stay over tonight?"- Gerard simply asked, making sure it sounded like no big deal, though he could hyperventilate if she ever said yes- "I wouldn't mind."

- "I think I could use some time on my own"- Joey answered and moved on the bed, sitting next to him

- "I get it..."

- "Thank you, though. Thank you for taking care of me today and for bringing me so many things."

- "Hey, don't thank me for it. I'm glad I could make you smile even a little bit"- Gerard murmured and tuck some hair behind Joey's ear softly- "I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be so happy."

She didn't move, mostly 'cos she had spaced out thinking about Matthew again. She didn't seem to have room in her head for any other thought but him.

Gerard saw this as a chance to move a little further. He kept his hand in her hair and moved it slowly down to the backside of her neck. The girl chilled and looked into his eyes. That look, it wasn't a friendly one, and she just noticed it.

- "Joey, you deserve so much better than what he did to you, and if it were for me, I would give you everything, my whole life."

- "Thank you, Gerard"- she whispered and smiled- "You are a good friend."

- "I wasn't saying that as a friend."

Way smiled and moved closer to her, his nose touching hers. She didn't move. She didn't know what to do, actually. She had always thought he was incredibly hot, but she never wanted to cheat on Matthew. But now, that didn't matter anymore.

Gerard moved a few centimeters closer, and his lips touched Joey's. Electricity ran down his back as he kissed her slowly, just to make sure she wasn't going to move away. She didn't. And slowly, she kissed him back.

His hands cupped her face carefully as Gerard increased the kiss, slipping his tongue between her lips. They tasted like chocolate, and they felt warm against his. It was blissful. It was like all the months he had to wait to feel that kiss had been completely worthy. That was the best kiss he had ever given, and his heart was rising so much, he thought it was going to escape from his chest.

Joey wasn't thinking. She wasn't at all. She just went along with the kiss 'cos it felt nice. And it also felt like payback. Like if by kissing Gerard, she was getting sweet revenge for what Matthew had done to her.

Gerard increased the kiss a little more, biting her lower lip and moving her closer to him. He wrapped an arm tight around her and kept a hand playing from her cheek to her neck slowly. Joey was enjoying this, Way was a pretty good kisser, and it was honestly a kiss she had thought about a million times. But it felt empty, like the kind of kiss you give to a random guy when you are drunk at a party. And this wasn't a random guy. This was her colleague, her married colleague.

- "Stop"- she whispered and broke the kiss.

- "What is it?"- she landed her hands on Gerard's chest and pushed him away softly.

- "This is wrong."

- "Why?"- Joey frowned as he held her hands and looked confused.

- "Well, apart from the obvious"- she said and pointed at his wedding right- "I'm at the lowest point of my life, and we work together. I can't afford to lose my job right now, so kissing one of my colleagues seems like a pretty shitty idea to me."

- "Not to me."

- "Gerard... that's your cock talking,"- Joey stood up and looked at him.

- "I've longed to kiss you for a long while"- he confessed following her and standing right in front of her- "And I've got the feeling so did you."

- "That's not the point. This it's wrong."

- "But it felt good, and you know it."

Gerard leaned to her, held her face, and pressed his lips against her, this time in a passionate kiss that made Joey feel weak on her knees. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck and felt his hands on her waist, moving her closer. So close that she could feel his erection, rubbing against her body.

- "You should go"- Joey whispered, gasping for air as she moved from his lips.

- "But I wanna stay"- she shook her head immediately.

- "You have to go, Gerard."

- "But, Sugar"- he murmured and rubbed his lips against her. She let him go slowly and looked at him, shaking her head again- "Ok..."- he grabbed his jacket and his shoes and landed a soft kiss on Joey's cheek- "Good night, sugar."

- "Bye, Gerard."

The singer walked out of that room and sighed. That had been the best kiss of his life. But Joey was right; it had been a mistake. However, it was a mistake he wanted to make ever since he first saw her. Still, he had just cheated on his wife. But that was a thought he needed to ignore at the moment. He had kissed the girl he loved. And he was in heaven.

Joey was in hell. She hated herself so much she wanted to die. She brushed her teeth over and over again, tears falling from her eyes. Her head hurt after so many days of crying. She had kissed another guy. And though Matthew had done the same to her, she still felt guilty and dirty. She was so sorry for what she had done; she knew it had been a terrible mistake. She didn't even want to face Gerard after that.

He was so eager for her, he had been holding that kiss for a long time, and he simply confessed it, like it wasn't a big deal. But it was. It meant Matthew had been right all along; Gerard had a thing on her, something that had ended up being a hot kiss. A very hot kiss. And if she hadn't stopped him, it was clear where Gerard wanted to go.

- "He had a boner for Christ Sakes!"- the girl argued, walking back to bed- "A fucking boner!"- she got under the covers, wrapping her arms around her legs, biting her lips so hard she nearly drawn blood.

Kissing someone else while still in love with Matthew didn't feel right. She didn't want to do it again. No matter how hot Gerard was. She missed her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. How was she ever going to get over him? She knew it was impossible. You don't love someone that much and successfully take him from your heart.

It was a good thing that Mikey had her phone, 'cos she felt the urge to call Matthew at the moment. That would have been stupid, and she knew it. But still, it physically hurt to miss him so much. She needed to talk to him. But Mikey had her phone... he didn't have her computer, though.

She looked for it in her backpack and started it on right away.

- "What the fuck are you doing?"- she asked herself out loud as she stared at the screen- "You can't talk to him... you are going to cave in."

Joey brushed her hands against her face and closed the computer. But after a few minutes, she poured herself a glass of whiskey and opened it again. She had decided to check her mail, and maybe Twitter, nothing related to her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.

But her inbox was filled with emails from Matthew. At least twenty. Her stomach tightened as soon as she saw them. She took a sip of whiskey and opened the first one. It was sent the night before, probably after Frank had yelled at him and turned off her phone.

"I'm so sorry Yami, I know I was stupid and drunk, and I'll regret it for the rest of my life. But I need you to know you are the only woman I wanna spend the rest of my life with. I love you so much it hurts to think of a day without even hearing your voice."

Joey was already crying. This wasn't healthy. Why was she doing it? She needed to sleep. She needed to get her mind from Matthew. But the memory of Gerard's kisses was right there hunting her too. She poured herself another whiskey and walked around the room. Maybe she could drink herself to sleep. But, she had a huge gig the next day, and she had to be professional.

- "Fuck! I wanna die..."- she sobbed and opened the next mail.

"I know you don't want to talk to me, and I get it. I just need you to understand how much I love you and that I'm willing to do anything to fix this, anything you want, everything you ask; I'll do it, but please, please don't leave me."

- "I have to stop this..."- she took another sip of her whiskey and whipped off her tears. She walked to the phone and talked to the front desk.

- "Hello, sorry to bother you, but can you please connect me with room 1201? Thank you"- the girl waited in line for what felt like ages until she heard Mikey's half-asleep.

- "Joey, are you ok?"

- "No, I'm not ok. Can you come and sleep with me, please?"

- "I'll be right there"- Joey stayed still, eyes glued on the screen, reading over and over again the last mail she had opened.

Mikey didn't even knock. He still had her key, so he just walked into the room in boxers and shirt, shoeless and with his hair made a huge mess. Mikey didn't say a word either; he just took the computer away from her and closed it, grabbed the glass, drank what was left of her whiskey, and got Joey under the covers of the bed. She was shaking and crying quietly.

- "You are gonna be ok Bug, I swear, please try to get some sleep"- he said and held her tight, spooning her- "I'm right here, I'm going to take care of you, ok?"- she nodded and sighed- "Now close your eyes and sleep, I've got you, ok? I've got you."

Joey sniffed and sobbed a little, feeling how her brother's arms tightened around her.

- "Thank you, Mikey."

- "You did the same for me. I owe you my life at this point. I'm never going to leave you."

Back in Los Angeles, Matthew was drunk, calling and calling Joey without any result. Her phone was off, her voicemail was full. So he continued writing emails. At least he could put his heart out in a way, though he had no idea if she was ever going to read them.

Paget, next to him, tried to stop him. But it was useless. The boy wanted to write and ignored everything else.

- "Matthew, Matthew"- she said and shook her arm- "Buy the fucking plane ticket to see her!"

- "Yes!!"- he kind of shouted and took a paper from his pocket- "This is Yami's tour schedule... the movie ends in two days, I can go take a plane straight from the set... so I have to go to Oslo if I wanna catch her."

- "Nice! Bring souvenirs"- his friend smiled, trying to cheer him up

- "Deal"- the boy grabbed his credit card and booked the first flight he found to Norway- "You know it is our anniversary next 17th, if everything goes right, we could actually celebrate our first year together."

- "Please, Matthew, and I need you to listen to me"- Paget said seriously and looked into her best friend's eyes, making sure he would understand her, though he was wasted- "Please, whatever you do, don't fuck it up! ok?"

- "Yes."

- "'Cos this is going to be the only chance you'll get to talk to her and fix everything. Trust me."

Gubler nodded with widened eyes. He was drunk, tired, and devastated, but still, he got how serious and honest Paget was with him. He knew he wasn't going to get many chances to get Joey back. And maybe that was going to be the only one.

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