#tumble a day late and dollar short on the news again

[quercus-queer]

Highlights for the non- tiktok crowd

“Thoughts and Deductibles”

“Thoughts and Copays”

“Empathy is out of network”

“I just know he’s looking up at us rn”

“Prior authorization required for thoughts and prayers”

“Republicans are right the answer IS more good guys with guns”

“Guns being more accessible than healthcare really is reaching its logical conclusion”

“Was the ambulance in network?”

“How do we know it was the guy? Could’ve been a pre-existing condition.”

[generalfoolish]

Feel The Heat

Part One: Cruel World

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OC Juniper Collins

Rating: 18+ Warnings: fem masturbation, male masturbation, cursing, mentions of casual sex

Word Count: 4k

Summary: June visits the farmer's market and meets Frankie, a grumpy farmer. She's interested, but they're both MASSIVE idiots.

A/N: Hey babes! I've been working on this massive Farmer!Frankie AU with an OC. I'm excited to debut this first part, the story is going to be a little slower so I can put in SO much pining. Anyway, enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Part two

~~

June breathed in the fresh air as she pulled her tote strap onto her shoulder. The canvas bag held her wallet and keys, but was otherwise empty. She smiled, knowing that soon enough it would be almost too heavy.

The farmer's market was always busy on Saturday morning, and this one was no exception, she realized as she neared the stalls. She had a certain path she liked to follow, but she was feeling overwhelmed about the crowd. It was much busier than she had anticipated, and she always got a little panicky in throngs of too many people. So, she veered off her normal route, and found herself on the far end of the market.

It was much quieter, and much less crowded, she noticed right away. June also noticed that the produce was amazing. Late summer the fruit started to get a little smaller, but the berries at these stalls were still plump. The vegetables weren't as uniform as some of the bigger stalls, these were misshapen and discolored. Two indicators that the flavor would be divine, she thought as she roamed the stalls.

Her bag was getting heavy quickly, she noted, and she was determined to explore the whole area, so she walked straight to the end. The last stall on the property. Her hopes were not high as she marched up to the display stand.

"Would you like to try the tomatoes?" A rich baritone asked, and she quickly met his eyes. They were silky and brown, and breathtakingly deep. He had his cap pulled low, but his face was scruffy.

"Sure, that would be great. Are you the farmer?" June asked, taking the sample, and eyeing the selection.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Frankie, and that is a Brandywine. All of my produce is hand picked, and that process starts at seed selection." He told her, his voice softening. She smiled and popped the tomato into her mouth. It was delicious. Acidic and sweet, not overpowering to the palate. Frankie must have seen the delight on her face because he grinned, knowing what she was experiencing.

"Wow, Farmer Frankie, this is so good." She laughed a little as she chewed, wanting to savor it. "I'll take a basket please." She decided, and nodded down at his table. He nodded and started to bag it. "I have a bag, thanks! What do I owe you?" She asked, pulling out some cash. He merely waved his hand.

"Don't worry about it." He told her. June only frowned.

"I can't do that. You worked so hard, I want to buy something." He chuckled and took his cap off before running his hand over his head.

"Look, it's early, and I couldn't possibly charge someone as beautiful as you." She blushed deeply, but thrust a twenty at him anyway.

"My beauty isn't for sale, but your tomatoes are. Have a good day, Frankie." She told him and turned around quickly. She wasn't normally bold, and she had no qualms with getting stuff for free. She had no idea why she had fought him, but as she walked away all she could think about were his beautiful, brown eyes.

—

Frankie kicked himself hard as he watched the woman walk away from him. What was he thinking? He didn't even catch her name; he had no business calling her beautiful. He was off his game, and badly.

His phone buzzed, so he fished it out of his shirt pocket. An old t-shirt with a pocket on the chest, tattered and dirty, and that's what she saw when she walked up to him. What was she doing in the back of the market anyway, no one ever came this far back. He opened the message and sighed at how long the group chat was. Santiago and Benny could talk for hours, even texting. He wasn't up for it this morning, which wasn't unusual. He skimmed the messages, and decided it wasn't worth responding to. He had to sell some produce.

He looked down at the crisp twenty dollar bill on the table and cringed again. Twenty was way too much for the tomato basket. They were marked purposefully cheap, since they cost nothing to grow and always brought people back, and she had overpaid. Grossly. Even a ten would have been too much. And what had he done? Nothing. He hadn't even gotten her name. All he knew was that she looked great in shorts, her hair was a deep red, and she loved his tomatoes.

—

"What do you mean?" Stella asked, sipping her glass of wine.

"I mean how do I fix it? Like I want to try his other stuff, but I was so rude." June told her, sighing into her own glass. Zinfandels usually brought her mood up, but she was still feeling from earlier.

"You just go back, darling. I doubt he'll remember you. I mean you only talked for five seconds. Also, I think paying for your stuff is the opposite of rude." Stella took a bite of her pasta before pointing her fork back at June. "Unless, it's more than that. It's definitely more than that. Are you trying to date the farmer?" June felt her face flush, and quickly took a bite of her own pasta to buy some time to think. She had gotten worked up, but she hadn’t thought about why that was. She grumbled as she bit into the ravioli. It was dumb, but Stella was right. She wanted to get to know Frankie more. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but she wanted to see him again.

Stella took Juniper’s silence as a win, and a grin spread across her face. June had always thought that Stella’s signatured wicked grin could rival the Cheshire Cat, and this one was no different. Too bad, June thought, that she hadn’t tumbled down a trippy tunnel where answers were held in clearly labeled vials. She took a wistful sip of her wine and looked back up to Stella.

“You’re right. But have I messed it up too bad? Like, I was pretty rude.” Stella laughed.

“You could have stepped on him and he’d thank you for it. June, you’re hot. He’d be lucky if you even thought about him. You couldn’t have messed it up.” June laughed, not really any more confident, but loving Stella’s hype game anyway.

“How’s...Bernard?” June asked, struggling to remember the man’s name. Stella had a habit of switching out lovers pretty often. June thought of it as her “man of the week,” and while it was good fun for her to envision a horrible reality show it wasn’t conducive to remembering their names, or anything about them.

“Ben,” Stella sighed, correcting June and pausing dramatically, “Is gone. I’m seeing Javi now. He’s much younger, and a lot richer.” Stella teased, taking another mouthful of food. June rolled her eyes. Stella had launched a business when she was in college, and had made a small fortune by the time they graduated. She was independently wealthy. In a way that June was not. June had opted for an education degree, and now was in charge of a bunch of literal children.

She took a sip of her wine and considered that path for a moment. She actually loved her job. She didn’t make shit, but it was worth the long hours to see those kids be nurtured and educated. She cared for them, and that made it worth the lack of zeros in her bank account.

“Javi, huh? He sounds posh.” June said, not really thinking about Javi or Stella’s various other affairs.

“He is not. He’s new money, so we can be tacky together. Anyway, lunch is on him!” Stella told her, laughing. June cringed at that, thinking back to Frankie. She groaned. She should have just taken the damn tomatoes. She didn’t even want them now, the thought of eating them just made her shrivel in on herself.

While Stella took care of the bill, June wondered if she shouldn’t just go back to the stall. Introduce herself and apologize, she thought. It’s the only thing to do in this situation. She set to getting her nerve up to do it, but at the end of lunch she just hugged Stella and went home.

--

Frankie slid into the booth next to Benny and across from Santiago and Will. When he had gotten around to answering the text chain the guys had decided to go out for a drink, and Frankie had wanted a drink after his day.

“Fish, Liv wants to stay the night.” Will announced, watching Frankie take a thoughtful sip.

“If Becka doesn’t mind, neither do I.” He shrugged, and Will nodded. Becka had been Frankie’s saviour. She was Will’s wife, but her and her little girl had taken up with Liv so easily. Being a single dad was not easy, but Becka had never let him feel alone. Hell, she handled everything for him. She was too good to him.

“Course not. She loves Liv. Not as much as Ashley, but I think she loves having another kid to spoil. Bad news for me, probably.” Will laughed out, and the rest joined in. No one had expected Will to get married so quickly, and none of the guys had been prepared for his girl to already have a kid in tow. Will had taken to Ashley quickly though, and had settled into the family role easily. Frankie noted Will’s painted nails and smiled. He was lucky to have such a great group of brothers.

“Enough kid talk, I have a fight coming up. You coming?” Benny asked, nudging Frankie’s arm. Frankie took his cap off and ran his hand through his hair.

“Who’re you up against?” Will asked before Frankie could answer. Honestly, he was searching for an excuse. Not that he didn’t want to support Benny, but the fights were always too loud, too tempting.

“Jones. It’s a special rematch. That’s why I need my boys there! Pam!” Benny hollered after the waitress and held up four fingers. Shots, Frankie thought sarcastically, just what they needed.

“Ben, of course, we’ll all be there. I’m bringing a plus one, though.” Santi announced, demanding the attention of the table.

“Who’s the victim this time?” Frankie asked, sipping his beer. Santi shot him a dirty look and clapped his hands together.

“Her name is…” He paused, making sure he had everyone’s attention. “Sam.” Frankie rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“What does Sam do?” Will asked, not minding the dramatics.

“Sam is a school teacher.” Frankie’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“Surely, not.” Benny snorted. Pam sat the shots down, and everyone grabbed one.

“To Santi, maybe learning something!” Will toasted, and they threw back. Frankie relaxed as the tequila warmed his throat. This was normal, and meeting with the guys did his body some good. He wouldn’t even think about the woman from earlier. He grimaced as he thought about it. His problem, he was realizing, was that he was too sober. He caught Pam’s eye and nodded at her. They came to this bar enough that they knew the waitstaff by name, and the waitstaff knew their orders. Frankie preferred it that way, less chance of an awkward encounter.

“Sam is a local gal, but she has not yet heard of me.” Santi told the group, clutching his drink. He had a bit of a reputation of being a lady killer. It was rare he found someone who didn’t recognize his name.

“I guess teachers aren’t normally in the same crowd as strippers.” Benny joked, and grabbed his shot when Pam sat them down. “Damn Fish, long day?” They knocked them back, and Frankie just nodded.

“There was this lady at the stall today. Total knockout, and I just flubbed it hard. It was early, y’know?” They all laughed at him and he couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face.

“She’ll be back. I mean, look at yourself, Fish. You’ve got it back together.” Will offered. Frankie smiled at him and sipped his beer again. They shifted to riling Benny up about his on and off again girl, so Frankie just relaxed. It wasn’t uncommon for him to space out, and the guys could fill any silence. He surveyed the bar, taking in the patrons and just assessing the crowd. Saturday nights could go two ways: chill or not chill. It was an old habit to scan for danger, but it suited Frankie. He could sip his beer and watch for thugs or idiots or drunks. The waitstaff never complained when they stepped in. He supposed they didn’t mind four ex-service guarding them a few times a month. Sometimes they drank for free, but Frankie had no issues with bloodying his knuckles up every now and again.

He was smirking, thinking about their last fight, when he saw her. He had to do a double-take to make sure his eyes weren’t fooling him. He couldn’t believe it. There she was. She’d changed. Opting for small jeans shorts and a tight t-shirt over the yoga shorts she’d had on before. He gulped loudly, and shifted in the booth. Her hair was down, curled, and she looked amazing. He didn’t think she could look any better. He wanted to go to her. Instead he leaned on the table and cleared his throat.

“She’s here.” He told the guys dumbly, cutting off something that Benny was saying.

“Who is?” Santi asked, looking around, probably for Frankie’s ex. They all hated her, but she wouldn’t come here.

“The girl from earlier. The knockout.” Frankie told them, trying to keep his voice low. He nodded in her direction, surprised that she hadn’t noticed him. It wasn’t a large bar. Maybe she didn’t recognize him, he thought. He flushed even as he thought it. He hoped she would remember him. Santi whistled low as he faced Frankie.

“She’s good.” He murmured, and took a sip. Will and Benny agreed.

“Buy her a drink, Fish.” Benny suggested, clapping Frankie on the back. He grimaced as the loud noise rose above the din of the bar. As if on cue, she looked up and saw him. He was staring at her, and there she was, looking at him. He looked away, chickening out. He wouldn’t say anything. She had stormed off earlier, hadn’t she? She should apologize to him, he thought, getting his hackles up.

--

June couldn’t believe it. She had agreed to go out with the new girl from work, came to a bar she had never been to, and here he was. He looked great, she admitted to herself. He had thrown a plaid button up over his shirt, and it suited him. Farmer Frankie, she mused, and then turned to Samantha.

“Do you come here a lot?” Samantha looked up from her hard seltzer and shook her head.

“I came with this guy I’m kind of seeing. Everyone knew him here, and I liked the scene. It’s kind of dive-y.” June nodded, and took a drink of her rum and coke.

“Are you settling in, you know at school?” June asked, deciding to ignore the farmer. If he wanted to say something, she wouldn’t stop him, but she had no intentions of approaching him.

“Oh yeah, you know Keira? She’s been super helpful.” June nodded in agreement, Keira was the secretary but she ran the place.

“Like your kids? You’re what 5th?” Samantha nodded.

“I have no idea how you handle those 6 year olds, they’re too wild for me.” June laughed.

“I couldn’t handle the ball jokes, honestly. Tweens are the worst.” They both laughed, and sipped their drinks. June felt eyes on her, but tried to ignore them. She repeated to herself: if he wanted to talk, he’d come over. She made it her mantra. She focused on Samantha, willing the handsome man to go away.

“Tell me about this guy you’re seeing! I haven’t been on a date in so long.” June laughed, not wanting to admit how long it had really been.

“He’s so sexy, June. Like, literally so hot. It’s mostly sex though. We’ve been out dancing once, drinking a couple times, but it’s mostly just hook ups. I’m thinking about breaking it off, honestly. Like, the sex is good, great even, but how long is that sustainable, y’know? Like, I want to nurture a relationship at some point.” June nodded, trying to push her jealousy aside enough to be empathetic. She would take some great sex, even if it meant not having a relationship.

She peeked back at the Farmer, who flitted his eyes away as soon as she did, and knew that wasn’t true. She was long overdue for a meaningless hookup, but she wanted something real, whatever the hell that meant.

“Have you tried just telling him? I mean, maybe he doesn’t know you want something more. Men are kind of oblivious to that sort of stuff.” June added. Samantha took a sip, thoughtfully.

“That’s a good idea, Junie. Are you seeing anyone?” June laughed, a little too loudly.

“Just my therapist.” Samantha swatted her shoulder playfully. “No, I, uhm, I got out of a bad relationship last year and I’ve been so nervous to get back in the game.”

“Oh my gosh, my guy has tons of friends! Maybe I can set you up?” June thought for a minute.

“Maybe, I guess I could be open to it.”

“They’re all like ex-Army or something. I’ll text him.” June watched Samantha tug her phone out, and tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. He will come to you, she reminded herself. “Ooh, two single friends! Fish or Benny? Oh nevermind, just Fish. Apparently, Benny has drama. Bullet dodged there, huh?” June snorted, bullet dodged indeed. Fish? What a weird nickname.

“What the hell, set it up.” June told her, throwing back the rest of her drink and indicating another to the bartender.

“Yay! I’m so happy you came! Tuesday night?” June nodded.

“Have him come to the Italian place on 5th street at 7pm. I have parent-teacher conferences, but that should be late enough.” June explained, sipping deeply. Her hands were shaking, she hadn’t been on a proper date in years. Her ex hadn’t been one for dates, so she was out of practice. She raised her eyes to meet Frankie’s, knowing he’d look away immediately. He didn’t, but the look on his face was confusing. Almost angry, so she looked behind her and saw a guy approaching.

“Hey, I’m Kyle.” He introduced himself and sat down on the stool next to her. She looked at him bewildered.

“June.” She said shortly, taking another sip.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Kyle asked.

“Have one.”

“The next one?”

“I think I’m good. There are a lot of empty stools, why don’t you find a new one.” She murmured lowly, and turned her back to him. Samantha giggled.

“I think I know why you don’t get dates!” June rolled her eyes.

“It’s pretty lame, okay. To come up and just sit down. I’m already a little drunk too, it’s just not very cool, Kyle.” June chided, raising her voice so he’d hear. She sighed when he left, and looked back at the booth where Frankie was. The booth was empty, now, she realized sadly. She wished he had approached her. She wouldn’t have turned him away. Why was he so cold?

--

By the time she made it back to her door, June was pissed. She stumbled in her hallway and pulled her shoes off. They hadn’t been at the bar that long, but the last round of shots had been the death blow for her. Samantha had bid her farewell, saying her ride was there. So, June had ordered an Uber, clutching her keys like a weapon, hoping Kyle didn’t want revenge or something. She pretended to be sober in the Uber, and had chatted easily with the driver on the drive to her house.

Once inside though, June groaned in frustration. She couldn’t believe the stupid luck. It was too much, seeing him there. It was too bizarre, too much of a coincidence. She had stormed upstairs and turned the shower on.

A habit she had started in college, when she was overwhelmed, a hot shower was just the thing she needed. She stripped down and stepped in before the water had warmed up completely, but she didn’t really notice. The shower was just a vessel; June just needed space to decompress. So, she thought about the tanned skinned farmer, and how cold he had seemed. He hadn’t seemed interested, but she had felt his eyes on her all night. She had seen his anger at another guy approaching her. She had felt how angry he was from across the room.

She lathered her body up, and almost absent-mindedly rubbed small circles around her budding nipples. She worked down, and let the soap wash off. She didn’t normally masturbate, but his brooding face and broad shoulders wouldn’t leave her mind. So, she slipped a finger inside herself with one hand, and worked her clit with the other. It was lazy at first, but then she remembered their encounter from the morning and she started going harder, getting worked up. She came hard, whimpering to herself in the steamy shelter of her bathroom. The hot water pelted her skin, and she rested her forehead against the cool, tiled wall.

Whoever this Fish was, she was going to fuck him. She had to get this farmer out of her mind.

--

Frankie was seeing red as he stormed up to his door. Of course, he had no reason to be pissed. He knew he had no reason to be pissed, but here he was, stomping to his kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He had wanted to break that guy’s legs for even coming near her. He scoffed at himself, her. He didn’t even know her name and he was ready to pummel someone for looking. Someone was looking, someone would always be looking. She was so gorgeous. He folded over his counter and rested his forehead against his hands. Nothing could help it now. Santi’s girl had messaged him, and the night was over. What was he supposed to do? Watch his dream girl get hit on by some idiot? March up and apologize for being such a giant dickhead? He suspected he was onto something, but he was just buzzed enough to ignore it.

He went to the couch, and threw a few stuffed animals on the floor. He had already kicked off his shoes, but he let his jeans fall to the floor now. The perks of Liv having a sleepover, he chuckled to himself before laying out on the couch. He adjusted himself, his hard dick straining against his underwear.

He planned to ignore that too. But, then he was thinking about her. Her hair down her back, deep and dark. Her smooth skin, inviting and leading his eyes to her ass. He pulled himself free and started slowly rubbing. He thumbed over the tip, and groaned at the precum pooling there. He wanted her so bad. He started thinking about how soft she would be, what she would look like on her knees doing this to him, and he fucked up harder into his fist. He closed his eyes when he felt the snap, and grunted through the orgasm. He wiped his hand down his shirt, and groaned.

He had to get her out of his head.

Part Two: Something More

[pagesandmagic]

folklore || this is me trying

description: she left the outer banks two years ago and now she’s coming back for the summer. they haven’t seen each other since she skipped town without telling him. they’ve both hurt each other, so how do they come back from heartbreak?

warnings: swearing, angst, S L O W B U R N.

series based on songs from the album ‘folklore’ by taylor swift.

author’s note: hiiii sorry i’ve been gone for a HOT second. life has been busy and inspiration has not hit me lately, but here we are and i’m excited about where this is going. pls let me know if you would like to be a part of the taglist! 

Part One (the 1) | Part Three (mad woman)

her.

growing up, your favorite story was Peter Pan. 

the boy from Neverland stole your heart quickly and you dreamt of a place where you would never have to get old. the adults in your life always seemed stiff and unlikeable. they complained about being invited and not being invited to parties. it seemed like they were confused about what they wanted.

being raised in figure eight meant too many fancy parties with stuffy adults and pretentious kids. through most of high school, you would show up at the beginning, but sneak out half way through to spend the night surfing with JJ. he had always been your escape from the uptight life that your parents made you live. they had dreams for you to go to college or marry into money, maybe both if it worked out for them. but that wasn’t what you had wanted. 

college wasn’t your scene, you couldn’t imagine spending another four years learning about places and cultures, instead of actually experiencing them. you quickly wrote college off your list when you picked up a camera for the first time. at first, you was mediocre, at best, but eventually people were paying you hundreds of dollars to shoot their weddings in your first year. your senior year of high school, you created a name for yourself and through the power of social media, you was noticed by a multi-million dollar wedding company who offered you the internship of your dreams. 

your parents didn’t approve of the offer, but at eighteen, you knew you wanted this and they couldn’t stop you. you packed up your entire life into her little Subaru and left. 

this internship was the gateway out of the outer banks, away from kook life, away from the heartbreak, towards a new life. a fresh start. 

he would have asked you to stay, but it wasn’t that easy. JJ brought a love you had never known into your life, but he also brought a heartbreak you had never felt before. 

you had an hour left in your drive and as your stomach turned, you had to remind yourself that it was your choice to come back for the summer. JJ was a part of the package deal of returning. you pulled over to the side of the winding country road. in one swift motion the car door opened and you found yourself hurling out onto the dirt road. 

“I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying,” tears were streaming down your face as the anxiety washed over your body. there was a certain desperation in your voice that scared you. knowing that if you were near the side of the road, maybe your car would get just a little too close and you’d go tumbling down, never having to deal with what was to come. 

“fuck,” you slammed the door shut, breathing in through your nose and out your mouth, watching your breathing and gripping the steering wheel like it was a lifeline. as your breathing slowed, you shifted gears and the wheels of your car found the road again.

the love you had for him was still there and it scared you more than anything in your life. and here you were, driving straight into the storm that was JJ Maybank. 

JJ.

JJ felt like he was floating as he rushed around the chateau, to clean up the mess his friends made the previous night. so many things have changed, he thought, three years ago, there’s no way in hell I’d be doing this. which was true. when she left, his entire mindset shifted. she was the one person he thought he would have forever, and with the rest of his friends out of the outer banks during the school year, he had to grow up. 

john b left him the chateau during the school year. free rent in order to keep up the house? sold. he made the house his home. completely renovating the little shack on the water. it was the first time in his life he was fully responsible for something big, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up. so he kept to himself, fixed up the chateau, praying every day that it would pay off. praying that she would come back to him.

he knocked on john b’s door. 

“come on, man,” he yelled, “you gotta get up and clean, she’s going to be here in like an hour.” 

he could hear both john b and sarah groan and shuffle around the room. sarah opened the door, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “J, you need to chill out.” she said, making her way to the kitchen. 

john b was still in bed, his mouth hanging open, trying desperately to succumb to sleep again, “dude,” JJ threw a shirt at his face, “get up.”

“why does everything have to be perfect, JJ?” his voice hissed and was raspy from the early morning wakening, “it’s not like you guys left on the greatest terms, so what does it matter?”

JJ shut the door muttering a “fuck you” as he walked to the kitchen and threw the beer cans into the garbage which made an audible clang. sarah jumped as she closed the cabinet door. “JJ, chill,” she poured herself a cup of coffee as he paced around the house. 

“sarah, if your asshole of a boyfriend does anythin-”

“he’s not going to do anything, JJ” she leaned against the countertop, her face almost buried in her morning coffee, “he loves Fin as much as the rest of us. she left on a high note with us, but on a bad one with you, so i get why you’re freaking out.” she paused, thinking of the best words to say, “but you can’t let her see that. she doesn’t need to have that power over you. you’ll talk it through with her this summer. i’ll make sure of it.” she touched his shoulder as she made her way back to the bedroom. 

he collapsed onto the chair in the living room. closing his eyes and placing his head in his hands. “i’m trying. i’m trying so hard.” 

she was coming back. this was what he had been waiting for since she left two years ago. he wanted more than anything to prove that he had changed and wasn’t the same boy she left. 

her.

you wiped your hands on the side of your shorts as you pulled into the driveway of the chateau. you could feel tears pricking in the back of your eyes, and blinked in hopes of pushing them down. you put your car in park and turned off the engine. “it’s now or never, get out of the damn car.” you whispered to yourself through your teeth. 

the front door of the shack opened and john b was the first to emerge the little house. you stepped out of the car just in time for him to wrap his arms around your waist and lift you off the ground. it always shocked you every time he was able to take your feet off the ground. in no way were you as physically small as sarah and kie, your curves were prominent and there were times you couldn’t shop at the same store as the other two girls, but john b always made you feel just as beautiful. he smelt of a mixture sea salt and tea tree shampoo. it felt like home. 

“i missed you, Finny,” he smiled against your neck, it felt right that john b was the first one to hug you. he was the one who had been there for you the longest, and even though you didn’t want to admit it (because he was a real dumbass sometimes) his friendship meant the most to you. 

“i missed you, too, JB,” you said, as he broke the hug to kiss your cheek. 

sarah let out an audible squeak as she wrapped her arms around your neck. “it’s been too long!”  you both rocked back and forth. until sarah let go, knowing you had a lot of people to hug. 

pope and kie were next, it only seemed fitting that they both went in for a hug at the same time, forming a little circle. when pope left the hug, you grabbed kie to hold a little longer, whispering, “where is JJ?” kie could feel your hands shake slightly, clearly nervous to see the blonde boy. 

you could feel her playing with the hair on your back, “i’m not sure, Fin. he’s around here somewhere. i think he’s just as nervous as you, if not more,” she placed her arms on your shoulders, separating the hug. “he loves you a lot,” she whispered for only you to hear.

“well, he had a pretty terrible way of showing it,” you sniffed, feeling tears streaming down your face. the entire scene was so overwhelming. 

you had missed the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and watching the HMS pogue sway with the waves. you missed the salty air and the humidity that summer brought. you missed the sight of the chateau, while more fixed up now, just a little shack on the beach. you had missed this little family of yours. 

“so,” john b clapped his hands together. “dinner?” everyone agreed in unison knowing the pizza that was awaiting them inside. kie and sarah wrapped their arms around your shoulders as everyone walked up the steps of the chateau. 

it felt like a little piece of your heart was getting put back together. your friends were more of your family than your actual family ever had been. you breathed a small sigh of relief knowing the one person who you didn’t want to see wasn’t inside. whether you liked it or not, he would be around the next three months. 

stepping inside you could see the amount of work that had been put into the home since you had last left. there were new coats of paint, new pieces of furniture, and there was a wall of pictures hanging up of the six friends in the different seasons of their lives. even the photos you had sent of your adventures in colorado were up there. you felt your stomach drop with the thought that your friends never actually forgot about you. instead, they were always supporting you from afar. tears pricked at your eyes. it was like coming home. 

your eye caught a particular picture. it opened up an old wound you had spent so many years pushing down. it was you and JJ the summer before you left at the beach. his sandy blond hair pooling over your face as he looked down at you. it was a particularly warm day and instead of spending the day on the hms pogue, the gang had ventured out to the actual beach. it was one of your favorite days with JJ. you remember it being a day of snow cones and sandy butt cheeks and hitting a volleyball around the beach. it was like everyone agreed to fill an entire day with all of the summer adventures. it was a dream. until it wasn’t. 

JJ. 

he stood in the driveway of the chateau two hours after she arrived. 

while the outer banks always had an ungodly amount of humidity, his hands were sweating more than usual. he chewed his bottom lip, unsure of where to go or what to do next. did he wait for her to come out? should he just walk through the door? it was technically his home and she was just visiting. no, it was definitely her home once too. 

he ran his fingers through his hair, he knew he needed to see her. it had been two years since he had spoken to his best friend. but she was within walking distance. he could yell her name like all those nights after she left, but this time, she would hear him. he could run to her and wrap his arms around her waist and feel her warmth, her curves, her beauty and never let go. he could hear her laugh and listen to the stories of the adventures she’s been on, see the pictures she had taken. he wanted nothing more than to kiss her lips, and feel her love again. 

the outer banks wasn’t big. so the entire town had known what he had done when she left. it was clear that she was running from him, but he didn’t blame her for any of it. if he was in her situation, he would run too. 

he started to walk to the door, his legs felt like jelly, but it had been some time since she got there and he hoped she would be distracted by the others that he could just slip inside and listen to her talk from his bedroom. 

the first thing he saw was her walk down the stairs, she was barefoot and her skin a golden brown. her t-shirt came down past past her hips and he was unsure if she was wearing any shorts underneath. it was by far his favorite thing she wore when they were dating. her hair had grew and was now far past her shoulders and cascaded down the front of her chest. 

as his eyes came up, he locked eyes with the girl he loved since he was ten. and then his entire body went cold. 

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Clothing Is Custom, No Labels: Part One

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and... the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader 

Warnings: Some cursing

Word count: 1,667

Authors Note: Here comes part one! I recommend reading the Introduction first if you haven’t 💜

Inspirational Music: Beat the Devil’s Tattoo by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

                                    - Part One -

Sleep did not come easily to you last night. You tossed and turned, worry about this cryptic meeting flooding your dreams and stirring you awake throughout the night. The lack of good sleep left you feeling hazy and distracted. So hazy that you didn’t see the uneven patch of sidewalk beneath your feet. Your hands shot out in front of you to catch yourself, the rough pavement scraping your palms.

You huffed as you stood up and brushed off your sore hands on your pants. Fucking sidewalk. You pass that patch of sidewalk every day and every day, you walk around it. But not today. Today has decided to be different.

Your keys jingled as you unlocked the back door to the shop, yawning with coffee in hand. It was going to be rough, staying here late tonight. After you opened the front curtains and switched on the lights, you reached behind the desk to turn the news on in the background while you readied the shop to open.

“Several Gotham city banks have been robbed within the last week. This string of robberies has left many dead on the scene at each location, all of whom are assumed to be accomplices, as reported by eye witnesses. If that wasn’t strange enough, all of them have been wearing clown masks,” you heard the GCN anchor say from your little tv.

What did he just say? You left the mannequin you were preparing to dress in the window and took long strides back to the desk.

“It is estimated that over sixty million dollars has been stolen thus far. Police have had few leads as their investigation continues but one man appears to be the driving force behind the robberies. Gotham PD has released this photo, captured by security cameras at Gotham National Bank just yesterday,” the anchor continued before an image flashed on the screen.

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of a man in ghostly white makeup with black around his eyes, a blood red smile over his lips and two jagged scars curling up from both corners of his mouth, staring straight at the camera.

“Nothing else is known about this man other than that he goes by the alias, ‘the Joker’, leaving a Joker playing card behind at many of the crime scenes. If you have any information on the man pictured, please contact the anonymous tip line listed at the bottom of your screen.”

You switched the tv off, a shiver running down your spine. That image was burned into your eyes, as clear as it was on the screen moments ago. You blinked a few times but it was still there, staring at you. The Joker. Those eyes just gazed straight through the screen and locked with yours. It was unsettling but you couldn’t help but feel something else. Overwhelming curiosity. Who was this guy? Why did he paint his face? Where did he even come from? This was the first you’d heard of him. Not to mention those scars. Flesh viciously sliced apart, torn clean through, leaving behind a macabre permanent smile. A strange feeling tugged at your stomach as you thought about the pain he must have felt. They were so… terrifying.

The sound of the door opening jolted you out of your trance as you jumped and whipped around to face the door.

“Oh, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you. Where do you want me to leave these?”

A delivery guy stood just inside the doorway with a handcart stacked with boxes. You shook your head and answered with an embarrassed smile, “It’s ok, I guess I’m a little jumpy today. You can leave them anywhere back there, thanks.”

You pointed toward the back room and he nodded on his way to drop them off. Shit, maybe you shouldn’t drink that coffee.

The afternoon crawled by at a frustratingly sluggish pace. The ticking of time made you impatient for the day to be done but simultaneously anxious about the very same idea. A particularly needy woman with perfume that burned your nose picked up an altered dress and a man looking to get his pants hemmed to fit his unfortunately short stature took up some of your time but it was still an hour before closing time. Your stomach fluttered for a second. Tonight it wasn’t really closing time. You decided to preoccupy yourself with a book you’d meaning to read, sitting down and leaning back in your chair, getting comfortable at the desk. Maybe you’d run out to grab a bite to eat soon.

Your eyelids flew open as you suddenly awoke with a start. The shop was dark. You scrambled from your chair to find the clock, grabbing it from the counter and turning it around. 9:40 pm.

Your heart started pounding in your chest, the meeting with your new mystery client was dangerously close. You cursed under your breath and rushed to close the front curtains, hoping to avoid anyone else trying to come in. It was a miracle you weren’t robbed in the first place.

Reality rushed over you and your hands started to shake with unease. Why were you so nervous? Well, this has never happened to you before. Men bringing you that much money ahead of time, in cash no less. Asking, no, telling you to stay open late for them. It was just weird. Weird in a way that made the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. And now it was here.

A few deep breaths did something to calm your nerves a bit, at least until the hands on the clock reached 9:58. 

Headlights illuminated the maroon velvet curtains over the windows, sending your heart rate soaring once again. He’s here.

Suddenly, an urge to hide made your legs twitch as you stood in front of the desk but you resisted it, fighting to keep yourself from running to the back room. Your heart continued to pound and was joined by a shudder down your spine as you caught sight of two silhouettes, figures cast in shadow over the curtains that were moving toward the door.

You held your breath when the door opened. It was the bald man from yesterday. He made eye contact with you and blinked. You tensed up, waiting for him to say something, but instead he let go of the door to disappear back outside.

What?

Before you could react, the door opened again and a different man stepped into the shop.

You halted in place, staring at him. His hair was stringy and tinted green. His face. His face was covered with a layer of white paint, black smeared around his eyes, that devilish red smile that had been floating around in the back of your mind all day. It was him.

You couldn’t move. You willed your body to do something, anything other than stare at the man with the Glasgow smile in front of you. But that’s all you could do. Blood rushed in your ears as you stood there, trapped in your own body, for what felt like far too long.

He took a few steps toward you, thawing your muscles instantly for you to back up and bump into the desk, your eyes still on him.

“What’s the matter, hm? You look nervous. Is it the scars?” he spoke as he gestured toward his face.

His voice was peculiar. Somewhat high and nasally but deep and gravelly at the same time.

Your mouth opened to speak before you had any words in mind to say. “Uh, um. N-no. I, um, I just recognized you from the, the news,” you sputtered, trying not to visibly tremble.

His eyebrows shot up and he grinned as he replied, “Ahhh, little old me? Well I’m, uh, flatter-ed.”

The only thing you could do was nod as you continued to gaze wide-eyed at him, your hands gripping the edge of the desk behind you like a vice. The way he pronounced words was hypnotizing. They were spoken so deliberately, so carefully chosen.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue with this, uh, ban-ter of ours, I believe you can make me a suit, yes?” he continued.

You suddenly stiffened to attention after his statement registered in your mind, your already hammering heart flipping uncomfortably in your chest.

“Oh, um, yes. Y-yes I can,” you managed to stutter.

He clapped his hands together, making you jump slightly. “Fan-tastic! Shall we?” he said enthusiastically, extending his arm out toward the mirrored area of the shop.

He waited a moment for you to move, only to watch you continue to stare like an antelope caught in a  lion’s gaze before flicking his tongue out over his scarred lip and sauntering over on his own.

Deep breaths. You took deep breaths, so quickly that they were making you nauseous. You had to try to relax. What if you made him angry? He’s killed people. What would he do if you messed up? It’s too late to back out. You swallowed hard against the lump growing in your throat. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this…

He started thumbing through the books of fabric swatches on the nearby table, scrutinizing each with his eyes and occasionally raising an eyebrow as you slowly approached with pins and needles buzzing in your hands. He suddenly flicked one of the books shut and raised his eyes to meet yours once again, making you stop in your tracks and hold back a gasp.

“Now, what do I call you, doll?” he asked, his dark eyes fixed on yours.

Your words tumbled out, responding all on their own, “Y/N.”

His gaze had captured you again and this time it was drawing you in. The room around you seemed to dissolve and all you could focus on were his spellbinding eyes.

“Y/N, call me Joker,” he purred.

                    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@amethystmoonprincess @call-me-harley-quinn @paev 💜

[pynkhues]

I hope you post your c & c Christmas fic! I am having a horrible Christmas alone bc of covid 19 and could use a little cheering up.

I’m so sorry you had a horrible Christmas alone, anon! And I know this is a few days late and a few dollars short, but I hope the first scene (and it’s a doozy of a scene at 3k words haha) from it helps? 

I’m trying to finish the fic now, so fingers crossed I have it all up by tomorrow. It’s ended up being really long, haha, so hopefully people still want a monster Christmas fic four days after Christmas! 😊

“No.”

And damn, if Rio doesn’t pop an eyebrow at that.

“No?”

The question is enough to make Jane’s bottom lip wobble as she rocks in her galoshes, the sound of her wet socks squelching inside them making somethin’ in Rio’s head twitch, because shit – he’d tried to get her out of them at the back door. Tried to pick her up and cart her upstairs to the tub, ready to wash the snow Kenny had shoved down the back of her parka off, but she hadn’t wanted that neither. Had been content to dart beneath his arm the second he’d lugged Marcus up with his other; even more content to leave a trail of sludgy footprints behind her through the kitchen like she wanted him to follow, and he hadn’t exactly.

Or y’know, he had until she’d dashed past him again and he’d gotten a hand into the hood of her jacket.

“So you don’t want to get in there with him, huh?” Rio asks now, jerking his head back to where Marcus is already sprawled out in the tub, fuckin’ blissed out, his skinny arms slung over the rim and his body submerged in the steamy, sudsy water ‘til he looks like some eight-year-old mafia don. It’d make Rio grin – does – until he meets Jane’s look again, her bottom lip still wobbling as she furiously shakes her head, her rabbit beanie slipping down her icy wet hair.

Rio frowns.

“You ain’t cold?”

And shit, he knows she is.

Knows it because the second he’d pulled up to Glenvale Elementary School today to pick ‘em up, she’d been cold. A last-day-of-school snowball fight havin’ ballooned out until the faculty were left frantically trying to dry off forty shivering kids, and whatever, Rio had thought. It was good for them. Work hard, play hard gotta start somewhere, and he’d plucked Jane and Marcus’ tooth-chattering selves out of the fray and blast the car heaters the whole way home, but the second they’d tumbled out of the car, Kenny had thrown a snowball himself, and a fresh fight had begun.

And okay, maybe he should’ve stopped it sooner than he did, but he had Mick on call and the last drops to organise before the holidays, because apparently people buyin’ up supplies of prescription drugs as gifts for sick family members is a straight up thing (and call Rio Father Christmas, because damn if he ain’t deliverin’ on the fuckin’ miracle. Ain’t even price gouging, although that’s more because Elizabeth had turned a particular shade of purple at the prospect and he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he’d bloated prices, but - - damn, it would’ve put at least two of the kids through college.)

Point is, maybe he meant to pull ‘em in after half an hour, but by the time he finally got back outside it’d been close to two full hours and the kids were all red-nosed and tremblin’, their clothes soaked through, the evening just starting to yawn above them to swallow the last of the light whole.

“No,” Jane repeats now, sullen this time, and Rio feels his nostrils flare in irritation as he stares back down at her. At least the room is warm enough, he thinks, watching the steam curl the ends of her wet hair, the ebb of the heating warping the air as it pours from the floor vents. The kids’ bathroom is one of the rooms they’ve refit over the last year – a pet project of Elizabeth’s that Rio had found himself involved in, mostly because he almost got as much of a thrill out of inventing organisational systems as she did. The big, low white tub set back against the wall with polka dotted wallpaper above it, gold light fittings and a long, deep blue vanity that had as much storage as they could ever need. Still – it didn’t stop one of Emma’s bikini’d Barbie’s and a fuckin’ deluge of rubber sea animals from taking up space around the room.

“I’m a grown up,” Jane adds, sniffing wetly, pulling his attention back, and Rio’s second eyebrow raises to meet his first. “Grown ups don’t have baths with boys.”

“Om has baths with daddy,” Marcus says helpfully from the tub, and Rio gestures back at him, taking in the way Jane just huffs out a breath and stomps her little foot against the white honeycomb tiles and it figures, Rio thinks, that one of Elizabeth’s kids would end up with the fuckin’ stubborn powerball in that genetic lottery.

Figures it’d be Jane too.

“That’s different, they have to share everything because they’re a mommy and an od.”

At least the others ain’t this stubborn, he reminds himself, scrubbing a hand back over his head. At least he’d been able to pile ‘em up with towels and sweats and direct them to the downstairs bathroom while he handled Jane and Marcus, but then again - -

He trains his ears to hear ‘em – Emma and Danny’s giggles sounding through the floor beneath his feet, loud even over the downpour of the shower, and then:

The flush of a toilet.

Kenny screams.

Right.

Lotta other balls in that genetic lottery too though, huh?

He exhales sharply.

“A’ight,” he says, looking back down at Jane’s pink little face. “You don’t gotta share a bath since you’re all grown, but you can’t stay in your wet clothes.”

And it’s weird then – the look that Jane levels him with. Somethin’ too hard in the set to her mouth and too open in her wide green eyes, and Rio’s frown deepens, brow furrowing, because there’s somethin’ in that look that tells him this ain’t entirely just about stubbornness, when suddenly Marcus chimes in from the tub.

“Soup.”

And shit, no, they’re havin’ pizza for dinner – Rio’s already ordered it – but before he can say as much, Jane’s nose is wrinkling up and she’s rolling those too wide eyes and that hard set to her mouth is softening, and huh, Rio thinks. They ain’t talking about dinner either.

“Soup doesn’t have bubbles, Marcus.”

“This one does!” he tells her easily, and Rio turns to watch his son glide his hands through the bathwater, catching soapsuds, a too-innocent grin on his face. “It’s an alien soup. Like - - like from Neptune. I got abducted! I’m gonna get eaten! Help me, Officer Janey!!”

With that, he slides down into the water, flails his skinny legs up above the surface, fake yelling, and Rio huffs, exasperated as water spills over the top of the tub, but can’t quite hide the twitch at his lips when he sees Jane’s look tear – the urge to play too already warring on her face as she steps closer.

“No, Marcus! We can play later, not - - ”

“Help!! Hel - - blergh.”

Marcus splutters around a mouthful of soapsuds, and Rio does roll his eyes this time, grabbing a washcloth from the sink to wipe his son’s face.

“You gonna help him, Officer Janey?” he asks, glancing back from Marcus and they can all see Jane’s resolve weakening. She shifts her weight, puffs out her cheeks, and then, just like that, she caves.

“Okay, Sir Marcus, I’ll get you home for Christmas.”

And thank fuck for that, Rio thinks, keeping his expression carefully in check as Marcus grins in delight, squirming back up the side of the tub to make room for her. It only takes a minute for her to peel off her jacket, leaking freezing water everywhere in the process, and Rio edges forwards, starting to help her when his cell phone buzzes in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls it out, checks the number, and hooks it under his ear as he crouches down beside Jane.

“’ey,” he says, and immediately he’s met with a wave of sound from the chaos of the mall – the tinny, tinkling melodies of Christmas songs and the thrum of shoppers, the distant sounds of static announcements and the too-close bray of Annie’s laugh, but it’s Elizabeth who replies, her voice clear and clean as a bell.

“Hi. Did we decide on the flatware set for your sister in the end? They’ve got one on sale here at this cute little kitchen place, and - - ”

Rio sighs, annoyance sparking at the fraying edges of his patience. He lifts up Jane’s leg as she dangles herself over the edge of the tub, pulling off one of her galoshes, and then the other, cringing when her soaked pink socks settle back on the floor, leaving a smear of dirty water on the tiles.

“We decided no, mami,” he tells Elizabeth over the line, pulling off Jane’s socks in one rough motion as Jane makes a grab for a rubber fish. “We already got her the - - ”

“Towels, I know, but she didn’t have enough forks for us when we were there last week, and if that’s going to be a regular thing now, I really think we should get her the extra flatware set.”

And shit, Rio thinks, moving to kneel so he can peel off Jane’s sopping wet sweater and shirt as she kicks off her jeans and undies, it figures.

It figures because Elizabeth’s been pressed about Carmen’s place since Carmen and Matt finally separated back in August, splittin’ up their assets and sellin’ the house. It had been a long time comin’, and Rio couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased about it – after all, him and Carmen hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but shit, she was his sister and she was a boss bitch, and Matt had always been the sort of belly crawlin’ fuck who’d soured at any woman who was more of one than him.

Anyway, it didn’t take all that much to figure out that Elizabeth was watchin’ Carmen’s marriage dissolve and her new life as a single mom with the sort of projecting fixation that - - shit - - just dredged up baggage.

Still, it was kind of fuckin’ funny too to watch Elizabeth try to help Carmen in the way she wouldn’t let anyone do for her back when she finally called it with her own dumbass ex.

“Yeah, those towels weren’t cheap,” Rio says into the phone, standing up and grabbing Jane underneath her icy arms to swing her into the hot water beside Marcus, letting her eyes slip shut briefly when Jane kicks a fresh wave of hot water onto the floor of the bathroom.

“Neither is cooking dinner for seven extra people.”

Grabbing his cell properly now that Jane’s in the tub, Rio drops his free arm down, grabbing Jane and Marcus’ wet clothes off the floor and striding out of the room, down the stairs and beelining for the laundry. He grins, pleased, when he sees Emma’s already put her own snow clothes in the washing machine, even if she’s managed to spill washing powder all over the floor in the process of it.

“One thing,” he sing-songs over the bustle of the mall behind Elizabeth’s voice. “Everyone’s gettin’ one thing. If you want to get Carmen the flatware set, that’s two things.”

And he can’t even see her, but he can feel Elizabeth bristle down the line.

“I might not be as quick with the books as you, but I do know basic math, thank you.”

Which - - shit, not what he meant. He grabs a rag out of the laundry cabinet, dropping down to wipe up the powder.

“Nah, you ain’t hearin’ me. I know you, Elizabeth. You get Carmen two things, you gettin’ everyone two things – Aida, my mom, your sister, your friend – we ain’t doin’ that this year. We decided that.”

Vaguely he can hear her sister laugh over the line again, and then Ruby say:

What about…

“No, I think she has one of those already,” Elizabeth replies, and Rio sighs, tossing the rag into the washing machine with the kids’ clothes. Vaguely, he can hear footsteps down the hall behind him, Jane and Marcus still playing in the tub, the shower a few rooms up, and he still has some business calls to make tonight, and damn, weren’t they going to figure out which presents were from Santa and which were from them later too? He checks his watch and frowns.  

“Elizabeth, what time you comin’ home?”

“Soon,” she tells him quickly, then, to one of the others: “No, that’s too much.”

Suddenly, a cold little hand grabs his wrist, and Rio glances down to see Emma clutching at it, already decked out in her pink fleecy sweats and rainbow fuzzy unicorn slippers, which’d be fine if her hair wasn’t hanging wet, soaking into the back of her dressing gown. He frowns, pushes his cell between his shoulder and head again to pull a hair elastic off his wrist and tie her hair back up off her neck.

“Od, can we watch Frozen tonight?”

And Rio briefly blanches at that, but grunts in affirmation, letting her go only for Emma to come back and cling to his hand again, splaying his fingers so she can fit her own between his. He blinks down at her curiously, picking up his cell again with his other hand, because damn, it ain’t like she’s never held his hand before – she’s always been a touchy kid – but he figured she’d be out of sight the second he told her she could put Frozen on. Like she’s seen the look on his face, she squeezes his hand and sidles closer until she’s practically on top of his leg, and so Rio crouches down instead, lugging her up and carrying her out of the laundry and over to the living room, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as she clings to his side.

“Annie, stop it,” Elizabeth says, annoyance growing in her tone, and Rio rolls his eyes, depositing Emma on the couch, and okay, maybe the kid’s just tired, he thinks, watching as she nestles back in the cushions, her big blue eyes only half-lidded.

He flicks on the TV while Elizabeth babbles to Annie and Ruby in his ear, like she’s half-forgotten to hang-up, and he’s about to do it himself instead when he hears the name Dean pop outta Annie’s mouth, which - -

Fuck that.

His jaw tightens, loosens, tightens again.

“Thought we weren’t doin’ all of that this year,” he hums, tryin’ to keep his voice light as he loads up Frozen on Disney+ and grabs one of the blankets to toss over Emma, because wasn’t that dumbass ex of hers off in Nevada this year with his new girl’s family?

“What?”

And sure, play dumb, baby, Rio thinks, striding out of the room as Emma wriggles down in the blanket. He heads back towards the corridor, hearing Jane squeal somewhere upstairs and Marcus laugh as he moves towards the downstairs bathroom.

“Thought we had the place and everyone in it to ourselves.”

“We do,” she tells him quickly, and he can hear her moving herself, walkin’ maybe – her sister’s voice getting further away.

“We ain’t changin’ plans.”

Because fuck – they’re a week out from Christmas, and they had shit on lock this year. Had decided on that together too after the whole mess of last year with Elizabeth having to do the six hour round trip to take the kids to South Haven after Dean’s car had broken down (fuckin’ allegedly, Rio thinks with a snort, because he could smell that bullshit a mile away).

“The plan isn’t changing,” she promises, raising her voice a little to be heard over the roaring opening chords of Last Christmas. “We’re still hosting everyone, and the kids are staying with us, it’s just - - something’s just come up which is - - I mean. It’s really not anything you need to worry about. I’ll tell you when I get home.”

Exhaling harshly, Rio scrubs a hand back over his head again, and shit – if this means Dean’s comin’ again - -

He pauses, distracted suddenly by the sight of Danny bouncing from foot-to-foot outside the bathroom, shaking with cold in his parka and beanie, melted snow dripping from his hair, waiting still for his turn in the bathroom. With a grunt of irritation, Rio strides up the hall, banging heavily on the door only to hear a strained in a minute from Kenny through the crack, and Jesus, Rio thinks.

Teenagers.

He covers the mouthpiece of the phone, glancing down at Danny who just shifts his weight again, snow-pale except for his bright red nose as he stares up at him.

“Use our bathroom,” he tells him, jerking his head upstairs towards his and Elizabeth’s en suite and Danny blinks owlishly back at him, shivering still, and Rio jerks his head in instruction again because it’d be just his luck to have to cart the kid to hospital for hypothermia again.

“Is everything okay there?” Elizabeth asks as someone says is this all today, ma’am?

“Fine,” Rio says shortly, and then, just to annoy her: “I’ll tell you when you get home, yeah?”

And it works, if her huff is anything to go by, and then when he hears cash or card? his lip curls.

“Elizabeth, don’t get the flatware set.”

The last thing he hears before she hangs up is the ring of the cash register.

[nethandrake]

let’s fall from the stars.

stevetony. mcu. rated t. post-avengers (2012). 3.9k words.

also on ao3.

buy me a ko-fi.

*****

From the moment they met, Friday nights have always been reserved for Steve. It doesn't matter if Tony has business overseas or a mountain of paperwork awaiting him in his office. He'll always make time for Steve. And somehow, Steve always has time for Tony.

But tonight might be the first time he'll get a 'no', get a, Sorry, I can't do this anymore.

And that's fine. Totally fine. It's a long time coming, after all.

Wear a suit. I’ll meet you down in the lobby at seven, Tony texts before tossing his phone behind him, uncaring of where it lands.

It’s midnight when they first meet.

Tony doesn’t notice him at first. Not at all. He’s too busy staring down the bottom of his glass, too busy wallowing in his loneliness and misery to notice the world swirling around him.

But then he hears a quiet baritone next to him and then suddenly, he’s seized with the need to hear, see, know.

A stranger – tall, blond, and beautiful – sits next to him, dressed in a button-down and khakis with the softest smile he's ever laid his eyes upon.

Tony's breath hitches.

“Hi,” Tall, Blond, and Beautiful says, their bright blue eyes twinkling under the dingy lights.

Time doesn’t stop. Tony wishes it did, wishes he could bottle this man up in his mind because he's just so goddamn ethereal.

“Hey,” he replies and just like that, he knows things wouldn’t be the same.

***** 

 Steve’s standing in the lobby downstairs, dressed in a navy two-piece. It's an outfit Tony’s seen him in one too many times. And yet every time he lays his eyes on Steve, it feels like the first time.

Steve pauses, his fingers curled around his tie, his lips parting as his blue, blue eyes rove.

“Tony,” he says, sounding a little shy. “Hi.”

Tony swallows his nerves and stills his hands from wringing them. “Hey. You look nice.”

“So do you.” Steve pauses, his eyes drifting down to the ground. “I like your shoes.”

“Thanks. I got them last week from Pep.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“Yup. It was.”

An awkward silence fills the air. Tony has never felt so out of his depth in forever.

Because this is Steve Rogers he’s talking to. Steve Rogers, one of the very few people he can be himself with. Steve Rogers, who’s one of his best friends. Steve Rogers, who he’s in love with.

Steve Rogers who’s Captain America.

I didn’t think you’d show up, he wants to say. I thought you hate me. Why are you here? Why are you here if you hate me?

“We should get going,” Tony says instead, his mouth tasting like ash. “Don’t wanna be late.”

He spins on his heel, heading for the door and not bothering to wait for Steve to catch up.

If Tony knows Steve, if he knows Captain America, he will follow.

Captain America always does.

 *****

 Tony learns Tall, Blond, and Beautiful has a name – Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers is a ball to be around with. He talks and laughs and listens and spins intricate tales about the life he once had and the life he has now. Even when Tony laughs a little too loudly or makes a joke that falls flat, Steve just grins and looks at him like he isn’t Tony Stark, billionaire, genius, monster.

It’s nice. He’s nice. Everything is just so fucking nice.

Tony Stark never gets nice things.

So when they come to a stop in front of the tower, Tony braces himself for the other shoe to drop. It always does.

“It was nice talking to you,” Steve begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had a great time.”

“Same here,” Tony replies and then squares his shoulders. “Maybe we should do it again. Sometime soon. If you like.”

The smile he receives is as bright as a thousand suns. This is how Tony loses the war called love.

 *****

Tonight's dinner is at a place Pepper has been gushing about for weeks – a fancy Italian place in the heart of Upper East Side.

It’s grand and bold, with gold adorning the walls and mulberry silk for tablecloth. Their fellow patrons are decked in their finest and eating lobsters and scallops and drinking forty-year-old wine while Beethoven quietly plays in the background.

Tony should feel at home here, surrounded by the riches he grew up with. But watching Steve squirm in his seat, watching Steve stare down his cutlery like it’s going to stab him in the eye, makes him feel so goddamn uncomfortable.

It’s times like these that Tony wishes he wasn’t born into this life, a life that neither Steve nor Captain America would never, ever see himself in.

Tony should’ve known better than to dream.

He sets the wine glass he’s been swirling around for minutes. “Wanna get out of here?”

At that, all the tension Steve has been radiating dissipates. He exhales, slumping further in his chair. “God. Fuck. Yes, please.”

A quiet snort tumbles out of Tony’s lips before he can stop himself.

Steve cocks an eyebrow wryly. For a moment, Tony forgets everything that’s happened this past week.

“What?”

“Oh nothing,” Tony replies. “Just… Just didn’t expect you to swear, is all.”

Something crosses Steve’s face but it’s gone before Tony could dwell on what it is. But even with a glimpse, he has his suspicions. He hates himself for making it surface.

They take their leave with their jackets in hand, not before Tony leaving a hundred dollar tip. Next to him, Steve breaks into a smile that looks surprisingly fond.

“What?”

“Oh nothing,” he says, shrugging his blazer on. “Just thought that’s nice of you. To do that.”

“I do that all the time.”

“I know.”

There’s something behind his eyes that shakes Tony’s insides. But he turns away and makes a move to his car because he can't, he really can't—

A hand on his shoulder stops him short.

“We should walk,” Steve murmurs, his eyes drifting up to the night sky. “It’s a nice night out.”

“Where are we even going?”

Steve gives his shoulder a light squeeze. “Wherever the night takes us.”

Tony scoffs as he watches Steve walk off.

“That’s so corny,” he says, striding to catch up.

“I know.”

They’re quiet as they navigate the streets and the crowds. New York City has always been a place Tony has both loved and despised, full of shadows and ghosts. But he won’t deny that it’s a place where he can just be. Be swallowed up by the honking and the shouting, the cold, by the nameless bodies and neon lights. Swept up in the moment like he’s the nobody he always wishes to be.

Not for the first time, he lets himself pretend, lets himself be the man he could be for Steve, lets himself pretend that he deserves the warmth radiating from his side, the brush of fingers against his own.

“Tony,” Steve starts in that tone that Tony both loves and hates, the one that makes him weak in the knees and his chest stir because fuck. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

He hears Steve sigh. “You know what.”

Tony knows. Oh, he definitely does. But he’s not ready. Not yet. Not now. Not ever.

“Later,” he says, pulling away. “I need food in me. Can’t think on an empty stomach, you know?”

Steve frowns but doesn’t pursue it, shoving his hands in his pockets as the hundredth crowd spits them out.

Tony never thought the May air could feel this frigid.

 ***** 

One outing turns to two to three and then Tony could barely keep count because all the days somehow bleed together when he’s with Steve Rogers.

They go to many places – diners at the break of dawn, art galleries on quiet weekdays, parks on noisy weekends. Tony’s favorite outings, however, are when they roam the streets aimlessly on nights.

Sometimes, they’d head to a bar and drink until they’re pink in the face. Other times, they’d go to a diner or a hole-in-a-wall. Both times, they’d talk about everything and nothing before Steve would fight him for the bill and offer to join him on his walk to nowhere.

Steve who’s a comic book artist from Brooklyn. Steve who loves Tolkien’s shitty books and hates the cold. Steve who’s kind and witty and beautiful and everything Tony doesn’t deserve.

And since Tony doesn’t deserve, he doesn’t ask.

*****

read the rest on ao3.

[pinnithin-writes]

The Valley

The beginning of an original horror I submitted for grad school. 4503 words.

A thin howl stretched lean across the New Mexico dusk. The desert was sleepy, its hot sand settling into a gentle cool like the ticking shutoff of a pickup engine. Porch lights flicked on in time with the stars as the town of Lonely Valley drew inside for the night. This was the hour of dogs.

Lonely Valley was a small town, a generational town, circulating bloodlines and traditions and ghost stories like the pinwheel of stars overhead, and its residents knew not to travel the old dirt roads late at night. Stay inside, leave a light on, let the tumbleweeds pass by, and sweep the paw prints off the porch when the sun comes up.

Jude Garcia knew the whispers, the stories that passed from mouth to ear to mouth across grocery lines and over glasses of whiskey. He was born here, had grown up here, and would likely die here, with Guadalupe County clay permanently under his fingernails. It was later than comfortable to be out walking. The scent of sagebrush sighed in on the cool wind as he crunched down the road toward his house.

He was safe, probably. Safe for now. Even with the distant sound of dogs wailing from the desert beyond, he knew how to avoid them. He remembered his mother’s advice, and her mother’s advice, and so on. Don’t look over your shoulder. Don’t shine a light in the dark. Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry.

And, if all else failed, run to the inn.

Jude didn’t have much to worry about. At least, not much more than the average resident of Lonely Valley did—stuck in the middle of nowhere, living in a rut of habit so deep it was impossible to climb out of. Shitty cell signal. Shittier roads. He jammed his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, using the emerging moonlight to guide him as he trudged home.

No, he wasn’t worried, just frustrated. He’d already settled in for the night, kicking his feet up on the ottoman to watch Seinfeld reruns when he remembered he’d left his phone at his workstation. A couple beers in, he didn’t feel up to drive, and the thrift store was only a few blocks away, as everything was in Lonely Valley. So he walked, kicking up dry, dusty clay all over his jeans, goatheads embedding in the soles of his sneakers.

Darkness gathered quickly. He was almost home.

He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t. Concerned, perhaps, since he’d gotten the news of his sister’s condition earlier that week, but she was going to be fine. She was folded into the practiced hands of the Santa Rosa hospital staff, and she had a real job with real money in a real town, so she could afford it. Her heart was stronger than his, even with a hole in its tissues.

It was easy not to worry in the daylight, when the eggwhite sun burned hot on their heads. When the nearest beast was the toothy, painted dog sign at the visitor’s center. It was much more difficult now, with the cool air lifting his collar and his worrying forbidden through bloodlines.

A shift of dry sand, a panted breath behind him, and suddenly Jude was no longer thinking about his wallet or his job or his sister. He froze mid-stride on the dirt road, hair on his neck prickling. In the absence of his footfalls, only the sigh of wind and the chirrup of night creatures could be heard, but his heart rate climbed all the same. Don’t worry, he told himself, don’t worry.

Still, nothing came, so he kept walking, alert now to his surroundings. Straining to catch a long black tail, a reflected pupil in the dark. He stopped and started and stopped again, hearing the quiet snick of claws on gravel, or maybe imagining he heard it. His hand found the iron cross in his pocket, and he gripped it tight.

They were following him now. How could they not be, with the emotional racket he had been making? Jude worked his stride up to a faster clip, shoving away the cold pit of dread in his stomach. Squares of yellow melted out into the streets from the houses he passed, banding him with light and agitating the animals that pursued him.

The dogs didn’t like the light, didn’t like to be seen, sticking like tar to the shadows as their breath condensed on his heels. Jude Garcia whispered a prayer under his breath, guessing too late his faith made them hungrier.

There. His house. Leaning wearily in the darkness up ahead. A rush of air left him, and he fished in his jeans for his keys. A fumbled jingle rang out in the night, stopped short by the pair of eyes that met him on the front porch steps.

The black dogs of Lonely Valley weren’t necessarily dogs but something like them, with long legs and long ears and long red tongues hanging from their pointed jaws. They kept to the shadows so their limbs could not be counted, and one could never quite be sure of how many eyes they had, twin rings blinking white and watchful from the dark.

Snarls and snaps came from the surrounding night, and he realized he was encircled by a whole pack of them.

He ran.

---

Ramona used to tell people she knew the desert better than she knew her own mind. Growing up, this had always been the case—she’d spent hours in the sagebrush and sand, learning the names of the wildlife, the sound of the wind, and the smell of an infrequent storm rolling in from the west. She knew every rock in Guadalupe County and every creature that lived underneath them, and she did not know herself.

At eighteen, she’d since stopped saying this, as it was no longer an impressive boast but a sad fact.

This was because she was a Lopez, and every Lopez knew Lonely Valley intimately but were strangers to themselves. This was so with her two brothers, father, and her mother, she assumed, though she never knew her. The four of them lived and worked at the Black Dog Inn, hub of Lonely Valley—or, at least, that was what the sign said. The red and blue neon still worked even after seventy years, flickering and humming out hope in the canine darkness.

On most mornings, Ramona would sweep up the dust in the front lobby and knock the spiderwebs from the corners of the rooms, but today was unusual because they had a guest. This was heralded by a pounding on their door around ten o’clock last night, when the moon was thin and the night was close and purple, and Jude Garcia had come tumbling in their front door. Ramona and Luca, her younger brother, had been working the front desk—if chucking a stress ball back and forth over the counter qualified as working—when it happened.

It wasn’t the first or last time the desert dogs had hunted someone all the way to the inn. Their family had a reputation for protecting the townspeople and the secrets they ran from. Luca handled the guest—the patient, really—and Ramona handled the dogs. This was how they always did it, because Ramona was bad with people and Luca was bad with dogs, not necessarily because either of them preferred their respective duties.

She’d swung open the screen door and rang the old iron bell the animals hated so much until they melted back into the darkness. They’d be back, but not for a while. When morning broke, safe and silent, Ramona made herself scarce while her father checked on the guest. Most often when they had visitors, they’d stay a night, recover in the morning, and return home safely that day, trusting the Lopez family to keep their secrets as they always did. Sometimes, when the dogs were especially hungry, the person they fed on would have to stay for weeks or months, remembering who they were, but that hadn’t happened since Ramona was twelve.

Sometimes, they never remembered who they were and wandered into the desert to never return. But that hadn’t happened in Ramona’s lifetime.

The town of Lonely Valley was nine square miles of nothing, cupped by shallow mesas furred up and down with juniper and pinyon pine. A train track cut through the landscape like a spinal column, whistling in the night in a mournful way that haunted visitors and comforted residents. Ramona and her brothers used to stack pennies on the rails and wait for the locomotives to come chugging through, fishing the flattened copper out of the wells between the tracks after they’d passed. Luca liked to claim these were luckier than regular pennies, while Ramona argued that luck didn’t exist and it was all science. When pressed, Dominic would say luck was something you made yourself, revealing a mysterious smile before pocketing his coin.

Dominic didn’t go down by the train tracks much anymore. He was busy trying to make his own luck by applying to jobs in places far away from the valley. His smile was reserved only for interviews, and it was no longer mysterious.

Places like the railroad were where Ramona tended to hang out in the summer, because adults didn’t feel much like picking their way through the briars and camelthorn just for a couple of parallel lines and occasional passing freight. Adults needed more reward for their efforts, like a fantastic view after a mindless, exhausting hike, or a business deal after a mindless, exhausting meeting. It wasn’t enough to just dwell amongst the larkspur in your sunhat and listen to the approaching chuggachuggachugga while a jay screamed. It wasn’t enough to just sit and be.

Ramona liked the railroad, and she liked the dump site on the outskirts of town with its overturned, out-of-tune baby grand, and she liked the Dollar General parking lot and its sun-buckled blacktop. She liked haunting odd, undesirable places, because no place was really undesirable once she got to know it. Ramona spent a lot of time getting to know places nobody wanted anything to do with, and often she found herself falling in love with them.

She was down by the tracks right now, in the shade of a pathetic, scraggly spruce, throwing pieces of gravel at the steel beams from a few yards away to make a ting sound. It was a few hours past noon, and her cuffed jeans were dusted with clay after digging around in the rail wells, nearly washing them the same color as her red-brown hotel T-shirt. It was originally a bright, cheerful scarlet, but the sand and sun had bleached it out to a fine dirt color, as it did with most things here.

Inez Ferro’s arrival was announced only by her shadow falling across Ramona’s line of sight. Ramona threw another rock, missed, and frowned. She watched the shadow curl against itself as Inez bent to pick up a pebble of her own. A flick of a wrist in her periphery, and it went sailing past Ramona to ping solidly against the rail.

Some people, when they said they were born in Lonely Valley, really meant they were born at the hospital in Santa Rosa forty miles away. When Inez Ferro said she was born in Lonely Valley, she meant the bathtub in her parents’ double wide, because her mother didn’t believe in hospitals or medicine or anything else that wasn’t mentioned in the fat leatherbound Bible she kept on her nightstand. Inez had come screaming into existence seventeen years ago and hadn’t stopped screaming since, meeting the world with knives in her boots and sharpened knuckles. Her mother called Inez her prickly pear. Her father called Inez dead weight.

Inez didn’t much care what others called her, so long as they kept out of her business. What Inez did with her spare time only made sense to Inez, and the people who got along with her best were those who had given up trying to understand her. Once, Inez told Ramona she was her worst friend by far. Ramona wore the sentiment like a badge of honor.

Inez’s voice was low and rough as the wind in scrubgrass when she asked, “They got another one?”

Ramona let the rest of the rocks in her hand fall to the dust at her feet and turned to look at her. Inez was staring at Ramona with a dark, piercing stare that always looked accusatory, even when it wasn’t. The bones of her shoulders stood out where she cut the sleeves off her black graphic tee. Pointy thumbs hooked in her belt loops. Inez was always taking a knife to her appearance, hacking away her hair and slicing through her jeans. Ramona tried not to worry about what else Inez’s blades touched.

“Mister Garcia,” Ramona affirmed.

“That guy who works at the thrift shop?”

“Yeah.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “He’ll be fine,” even though she knew Inez didn’t really care.

“You’re feeding them tonight,” Inez said, sharply. Everything about her was sharp—elbows, fingers, smile. It wasn’t a question.

Ramona gnawed on her lip as hot wind blew in her face. “You can come,” she answered.

Inez was very good at appearing disinterested when she was in truth very interested, but because Ramona had spent years digging into her mind, she knew what the glint in her eye meant. To her credit, she managed to pull off a lackadaisical shrug that almost looked casual. “Sure. Didn’t have any plans otherwise. I mean,” she paused, smirking, “unless you count being a general delinquent.”

Ramona snorted, recalling her older brother’s choice words for them. In all reality they should have been spending their evening being general delinquents. This was their last summer here in the sun-baked valley of their hometown before their final year of high school, and after that they were expected to apply for colleges or join the military and move away. Each graduating class got a little bit closer to escaping, but a few always remained, either for familiarity or bad luck’s sake. Ramona knew she’d probably be one to stay behind and was almost certain Inez would skip town as soon as she turned eighteen.

She wanted to make the most of their last summer together, kicking around in the dry riverbed and making fun of Elliot for his accent and getting chased away from the gas station by Miss Barela and her broom. Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she looked away, her throat suddenly tight.

“I’ve still got to pick some stuff up,” she said once she’d dragged her facial expression back to something manageable. She rattled the bag over her shoulder, jostling the railroad spike and the copper coins inside.

“I’ll help,” Inez intoned.

“Sure.”

It wasn’t fair; Ramona was never allowed to offer her own assistance to Inez, whose mouth would cut until Ramona backed off. But she wasn’t about to open old wounds now.

Loaded down with supplies, Ramona and Inez’s hike back to the inn concluded with soft guitar music on the porch. The setting sun bathed the adobe walls and a pair of dusty boots kicked up on the railing a warm red. Ramona recognized the voice crooning from her porch swing immediately. It blended sweetly with the soft plucked chords.

Was a cowboy I knew in south Texas

His face was burnt deep by the sun

Part history, part sage, part mesquit

He was there when Poncho Villa was young

And he'd tell you a tale of the old days

When the country was wild all around

Sit out under the stars of the Milky Way

And listen while the coyotes howl

At this, the singer’s curly head tipped back and he let out a loud “awoo!”

The distant song that answered him was too long and lonely to be a coyote, and it made the hair on the back of Ramona’s neck rise.

The best place to hide secrets was in plain sight, and this held true for the desert dogs of Lonely Valley as much as any other secret. A hundred miles north of Ruidoso, the town didn't get much traffic beyond the pronghorn herd that clouded in and around Guadalupe County, so it sold itself on ghost stories to turn a profit. Many residents who didn’t work in the city peddled whispers and worries alongside T-shirts and trinkets to any travelers passing through. The long black dogs that fed on feelings were a curiosity of the town, a charming oddity that drew road trippers off the highway for a tamale and a picture in front of the town sign.

Local shops had paw print keychains at the register next to the little trays of geodes, and the cashier would smile and wink when their total came out to $6.66. Ramona was particularly fond of the gas station tees that read “Don’t Eat Your Feelings” printed over a dog silhouette. Visitors were warned not to stay out past dark in Lonely Valley, and they usually didn’t, because there was nothing fun to do in Lonely Valley past dark, anyway.

This left a small, curious minority of ghost hunters, vloggers, and conspiracy theorists who hungered for the supernatural. The Lopez family buffered these visitors as best as they could, though often their curiosity was sabotaged by local teens making noises in the dark, freezing their blood to ice with a bucket, a stick, and some creative mimicry. Most of the morbidly nosey cleared out after a night in the Russian olives with only the moon for company.

That is, save one person, who prickled Ramona like a burr stuck to her sock. Elliot James.

He was a Lonely Valley resident only by technicality, living with his aunt in the summer while his musician parents went on tour. He flew back to Austin every fall when school started up, to clean the dirt out from under his nails and forget about the desert for nine months, and for this crime Ramona habitually disliked him.

Inez, however, enjoyed his company because he was loud and weird and lovely and her parents hated him. She let him in on the secret of the desert dogs when they were fifteen, and Ramona had eventually forgiven this discrepancy after several months of seething. She didn’t care if Elliot tagged along anymore—he had proven his value to the creatures of the night with the lovesick collection of B-sides he could strum on his acoustic.

The dogs loved him. Sometimes, perhaps, more than they loved Ramona, which was another obstacle of dislike she was working on clearing. It didn’t help he held an uncanny ability to show up all over Lonely Valley unannounced and uninvited.

“Lovely night for a hike!” Elliot said in lieu of greeting, silencing the still humming strings of his guitar with a flattened palm.

He smiled sunnily as Ramona ascended the porch steps with Inez trailing behind her. Elliot James was handsome in the way a well-made armoire was, warm and loved and handcrafted. He was the only outsider who was welcome in Lonely Valley because he disarmed and charmed in equal measure with his lovesick songs and his starfield of freckles. Elliot dropped his boots to the deck with two solid thunks as he stood, angling the neck of his guitar aside to bump knuckles with Inez as she joined them on the porch.

Ramona crossed her arms, determinedly resistant to his charm. “I guess you’re coming too, huh?”

Elliot’s smile was unwavering. “Oh, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Lonely Valley’s favorite tourist rounded out the trio of teens who kept the desert dogs fed. Ramona still wasn’t sure why her father had so willingly accepted both Inez and Elliot into the fold when he himself had never been permitted to bring along friends growing up. But perhaps that missed childhood opportunity was the reason.

Inez leaned against the railing, studying Elliot. “You sure? Last time you cried.”

Elliot pressed a dramatic hand to his chest, feigning insult. “And? It was helpful, wasn’t it?”

Ramona shifted the bag she carried to her other shoulder. “I’ve just gotta grab some stuff inside, and we can go,” she said. Her eyes fell to the acoustic Elliot carried. “I hope you're bringing the guitar.”

Elliot patted the polished wood good-naturedly. “Her name,” he corrected without venom, “is Winona. Of course I’m bringing her.”

Swinging through the screen door, Ramona left her friends to wait on the front porch. She tried not to think about how similar her name sounded to ‘Winona’ in his voice.

---

The sagebrush snagged at their ankles as they climbed. Ramona’s rucksack banged against her back, and dust caked beneath her fingernails. This last scramble was short but strenuous, pulling at the tendons in their calves, grabbing at their shoulders, beckoning the climbers back to the safety of the valley. The dog-sounds that cradled the hikers sent tremors through their ranks.

Mesa Luna was a sacred place, if only to the shivering pines that crested it and the children traipsing to its summit. It was built upon rumors and rattlesnakes, and its sharp, thin line on the horizon was the sun’s eternal hurdle to jump. It was a giant at night, blue and looming. Standing atop its siltstone table, Ramona always felt cosmic—detached in a way—like Lonely Valley and Mesa Luna and Ruidoso and Guadalupe County were all just meaningless labels for a cupped handful of miracles. Here, the land didn’t have names; the night creatures sang, and Ramona Lopez was one of them.

Generation to generation, each member of the Lopez family found their own way to feed the hounds. Emilio used to drive his battered white truck out to Holy Point and play a fiddle on a schedule kept like clockwork. His mother Gianna before that sank to her knees in Wolf Creek, shivering out prayers until the surrounding dogs were satisfied. Her mother preceding her sat on the back porch of their very inn, reading stories out loud to the quiet, panting night, a gentle flirtation with nightmares.

Ramona climbed to the top of Mesa Luna and frightened herself.

In the most recent years, she had helpers, but prior to that she would scale the tallest Ponderosa that hugged the cliff face and lean out over the rocky riverbed below. With nothing between her and the ground but the cool, empty air, Ramona would cling to her nerve and the tree bark while her heart threw itself against her ribcage. And the dogs would gather below her, hungry and expectant, until it was time to disperse.

These days, it was different. These days, it was a little easier on her heart. Ramona had been hesitant to allow Inez, and later Elliot, to join her out under the swathe of stars, but now it was a comfort. This was no longer a lonely ritual built to scare her soul. This was a commune with the gods, and Ramona did not know or care whether those gods were the creatures of the night or the three teenagers who ventured into it.

The three sat together in the dust around an empty fire pit that had lain cold since the annual burn bans rolled in. Ramona carried a walking stick with an iron nail driven through the bottom, wood grain worn under generations of fingers. A lacework of satin ribbon tied in knots of threes sat against Inez’s collarbones. Elliot kept sprigs of rosemary and dried chili peppers in his pockets.

They could sense the dogs nearby in an eruption of goosebumps on their arms, the hair rising on their necks. Ramona meticulously unpacked her rucksack and withdrew what she needed. Copper pennies, tossed in a circle around them. A dogeared book of Anne Carson poems. The industrial flashlight her father kept in his pickup. And the old iron bell, just in case, the clapper wrapped in cloth to keep it silent.

The dogs could draw near, but they could not make contact. There was debate among Lonely Valley residents if the talismans and the pennies and the prayers said in triplicate did any good. A trick of the light, of the mind, a placebo to keep the thoughts from wandering. The Lopez family straddled the line between arguments. If it worked, did it matter if it was real or not?

Ramona angled her chin to Elliot, speaking in a low voice. “You wanna start this time?” Behind his shoulder, she could see a pair of round white eyes watching from the surrounding ink. The animals were hungry.

Elliot’s smile was not as sunny as it had been on the porch of the Black Dog Inn, but he made a valiant attempt as he fingered a chord on his guitar and strummed.

I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger

Traveling through this world below

There is no sickness, toil, or danger

In that bright land to which I go

I'm going there to see my Father

And all my loved ones who've gone on

I'm only going over Jordan

I'm only going over home

And so it went. Each took their turn leaving offerings, feeding off one another’s emotions with as much voracity as the dogs fed on them. They crooned and cried and sang and the dog’s voices joined them. Ramona recited passages from the book that made her heart ache. Inez chilled them to the bone with a ghost story and a Zippo under her chin, making the dogs flicker on the edges of their vision.

The animals circled and drank up their feelings, genuine heart song rising on the mists of their breath into the air. When it came time for them to disperse, the moon was a cold, bright point overhead. Sated, melting ink stains, the dogs were there and then were not, their absence noted by the warming of the night. The tension ebbed from the trio’s shoulders.

Quiet lay the valley. The town was at rest once more. Ramona never felt more alive than she did during these times; this was in her blood and her nerves and every particle of her heart, and though she did not know herself, she knew where she belonged.

[thisissirius]

Number 1 of the 100 prompts!

“Six days in a car,” Buck says, sounding irritated.

Eddie ignores him, stowing the last of the bags into the back of the truck. He’s fairly sure they have everything they need—and if they don’t, Sophia’s already informed him he can just buy it.

“Dad! Where’s my new boots?”

Buck mutters, “you’re driving,” and jogs inside. “They’re under your bed!”

“Are you sure?” Chris yells back.

Lovely. Eddie’s really looking forward to this drive.

When Sophia’s invitation first came through, Eddie remembers feeling excited. They could have flown, but he and Buck spent a night hashing out a three day journey that would take then through several states—let Chris see a bit more of the country.

Now, the closer they’ve come to actually leaving, Buck’s been getting short and seemingly irritated by the idea.

When he comes back outside, Eddie narrows his eyes. “We can still fly. Whatever your issue is—”

“I don’t have an issue,” Buck says too quickly.

“Sure,” Eddie says. “I’ll go via the airport and you can go on ahead. Explain to Soph why you’re early.”

Before he can storm inside, Buck rests a hand on his elbow, looking awkward. “I know I’ve been complaining. It’s not because it’s six days or that I don’t wanna drive. You said,” he pauses, winces. “One last journey with Chris.”

Eddie softens immediately. “Buck,” he says, pressing his hands to Buck’s face. “I meant before he goes into high school. He’s getting older and I know he won’t wanna do this again.”

“He’s fourteen,” Buck says, finally smiling. “I’m sure he doesn’t wanna do this now.”

“Not if you keep being gross,” Chris says, coming out with his backpack and phone. Eddie’s still not sure he likes the idea of Chris having one, but given the avalanche, the landslide, and the boating incident, he and Buck are convinced they’re cursed and a phone is necessary. (Bobby threatened to bench the both of them until they gave Chris a phone for emergencies.)

“Charger?” Eddie asks.

Chris rolls his eyes. “In the backpack, Dad. Do we really have to drive?”

“Yes,” Buck says instead. “Your dad wants some quality time with you, and I just wanna annoy you.”

Chris sighs dramatically—was Eddie this dramatic at 14?—but climbs into the backseat. “I’m texting Adriana and telling her you’re dragging me around tourist sites.”

Buck tosses Eddie the keys and opens the door to the passenger side. “Jokes on you, Adriana loves the sights.”

Adriana does, in fact; love tourist attractions. Buck took her to Rome for a graduation gift and she’s never stopped talking about it. The architecture, this. The structures, that. Eddie’s not sure he ever needs to visit himself.

“Okay,” he says, “let’s do this.”

Day two and Eddie’s beginning to revise his plan. It’s nice, spending time with Chris and Buck and doing ridiculous things. They go on a walk through Pisgah National Park (where Buck loses a shoe), take a detour to go to Six Flags (which Chris decides he doesn’t actually wanna do) and swing by the Basketball Hall of Fame on their way out of Massachusetts (Chris decides basketball is his new sport of choice, but Eddie knows that’ll last only as far as Texas.

The original plan was to drive through New York and pick up Adriana, but she’s still convinced they’re crazy and wants to fly out a day before the celebration.

“We should have done the same,” Eddie says quietly. Chris is asleep in the backseat and as they join Interstate 87, he can feel himself wanting to stop and they’ve only just started day three.

“Pull over when you can,” Buck says, scratching a hand through Eddie’s hair. It’s nice, even though they spent last night tangled up together, Buck’s breath hot on the back of Eddie’s neck. “Let me drive for a while.”

It’s a tempting offer; Eddie doesn’t mind driving, but he’s never the best at interstate travel. “When we stop for lunch,” he says eventually. “Then you can take over.”

“Alright,” Buck says easily, leaving his hand on Eddie’s thigh as he stares out of the window.

With another five states or so to pass through, many a sight to see a long the way, Eddie knows they’ve got time. They’ll get bored eventually, or Sophia will call and tell them to get a move on before they’re late, and on the last couple of days, they’ll drive through the night, but it’ll be worth it.

(When they finally tumble out of the car at the other end, minus a shoe, three socks, and several hundred dollars, they’re giggling like children, and Chris hugs Eddie, something he doesn’t like to do much anymore.

“Thanks, Dad,” he says quietly. “It was fun.”

That, and the way Buck smiles at him, rubs the ring on Eddie’s finger like an affirmation, makes the driving and irritation of a six day journey worth it.)

[whysthatsofuckingfunnydickwad]

Slow Hands

Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Here’s 5.2K words of basically pure smut. Blame Sara for this because she peer pressured me. 

“Don’t forget, Rich, we’re going to Ben’s poetry slam tomorrow night,” Eddie said into the phone that was pressed between his shoulder and ear as he typed away on his laptop. He had a report that was due before the end of the weekend that he somehow needed to cram into his ever-tightening schedule, and unfortunately for his school work, Eddie’s attention span always seemed to be taken up by the extravagant Richie Tozier.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about my commitment to my dear Benjamin, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie said on the other end of the line while scribbling Eddie’s last minute reminder onto the calendar-templated dry erase board Mike had bought for him after the time Richie missed two exams in a row due to mixed up dates. “Do you remember what the dress code was? Stan might kill me if I show up underdressed to anything ever again.”

Eddie laughed softly to himself at the memory of Stan nearly bending a salad fork in his fist when Richie had showed up dressed casually for the annual Exotic Bird Protection fundraising banquet. Stan’s bird watching group had donated 100 dollars per chair for whomever Stan decided to bring with him as representation for the members in the New York area. Apparently the location, The London Club, had confused Richard, who showed up in skinny jeans and a flashy jean jacket to a black tie event.

“Yeah,” Eddie said with his words so laced with his smile that Richie could picture it perfectly in his mind if he closed his eyes, “Ben said that it’s casual dress, you should be fine.”

Their conversation continued and Eddie eventually abandoned his laptop, shutting it down and moving to lie on his bed. Talking to Richie came as easy as breathing; the pair had grown impossibly closer since their big move despite how large the city was. Eddie’s grown to realize that it’s easy to develop a feeling of being impossibly small somewhere as large as New York City. Nobody knows him and everybody is travelling in a different direction than he was; it’s breathtakingly new for a small town kid.

Eddie, who happened to be mid sentence, yawned and looked at the clock on his bedside table while finishing his thought, his eyes widened at the late time, he opted to ignore the number of hours he’d just spent on the phone with someone he’d seen all day and would see again for most of the day tomorrow.

“Ouch,” Richie laughed at Eddie’s impossibly adorable yawn, “Getting tired of me, Eds?”

“I got tired of you years ago, Richard,” Eddie said and giggled when Richie audibly gasped in mock offense. “Listen, man, I still have to shower before I go to bed, you know I hate leaving the apartment with wet hair.”

“You’re gonna take a shower? Are you kidding, without me? Eds, I’m wounded,” Richie said into the phone, expecting a humorous groan and brief goodnight, but that’s not what he got.

Instead, Eddie laughed heartily and said, “Okay then, why don’t you come and join me?”

Eddie held his breath, surprised at the sudden boldness that has taken hold of him, and just as he’s about to abandon his previous statement and blame the late hour, Richie, having swallowed thickly before even comprehending what Eddie had said, replied with a small laugh, “Only if I get to lather your girly soap on you.” 

Eddie tried to come up with an excuse to leave the conversation before he could embarrass himself but before he could mutter anything, Richie, whose voice seemed to drop at least half an octave and had become filled with air, interrupted.  “Tell me more, Eds.”

“I’d let you do more than just that, Rich,” Eddie said through the shaking release of his held breath. A shiver went up the lower half of his back and shot through his shoulders at the thought of Richie’s hands sliding through his hair, rubbing in the peppermint scented suds and massaging his scalp. He vividly imagined Richie gripping a fistful of his brunette locks and pulling his soapy hair back into the steaming stream of water to wash the foam down his bow arched back and Richie’s pale arm as the taller man sucked marks into the expanse his neck. Eddie could feel the turnings of lust growing hot in his stomach.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Eddie,” Richie whispered into the phone and Eddie nervously rubbed his hand against the terry cloth fabric covering the tops of his thighs, imagining Richie’s constantly confident touch as he spoke. Eddie was beginning to forget how to breathe.

“I want you to touch me,” Eddie whispered, unsure of what to say as his hand rose to rub against the firmness in his soft shorts, fingertips moving to dance along the hem. “Can you make me feel good and clean, Richie?”

Eddie bit his lips together and physically smacked his palm to his forehead at the words that had tumbled from his mouth. Dumb. Beverly would be disappointed in the awkwardness he was allowing to spill out of him like word vomit.

This time it was Richie releasing a shaking breath as his free hand moved slowly from gripping his freshly washed sheets to toying with the silver button on his jeans, taking his time with the fastenings that were pressed against his growing erection. “Oh, Eds,” Richie says lowly into the phone, “I can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before, but the things I want to do to you are far from clean.”

Flashes of Richie lying on his bed with his pants low on his hips, face flushed, eyes heavy with lust, and his hand rubbing against the crotch of his jeans shoot through Eddie’s head and he finally allows his slender fingers to dip into his shorts and briefs, coming into contact with the hot, velvety skin of his shaft. “Oh, g-god, Richie,” Eddie moans high pitched and needy as his fingers start to squeeze in waves around him, “I want you bad, Rich. I want- I w-want-.”

“You want me to make you feel good, baby?” Richie interrupts as he finally drags his fly down and pushes the denim pants down his lean thighs. “You want me to touch you all over, Eds, every last inch of your gorgeous skin?” Richie’s voice dropped to a low, almost unsure whisper, “Are you touching yourself, Eddie?”

The sudden breaching thought that Eddie is gasping as he touches himself while his best friend is on the other end of the phone threatens to bring him crashing to earth with fear. The thought terrifies him for the briefest of moments, until he hears Richie moaning softly on the other end of the line. More images spark in Eddie’s mind of Richie gripping his length in his pale hand, the dark hair travelling from the base of his prominent cock to his navel where his shirt has risen to expose his stomach. Heat pools heavily in Eddie’s stomach at the thought of Richie getting off to him just a couple of blocks over and he felt his abdomen contract as he neared completion. Throwing caution and fear to the curb and abandoning the taunting thoughts that could possibly bring him down from his high, Eddie moans into the phone, “Please, Richie.”

Richie’s skin had grown hot and red as he started to perspire with anticipation, he sucks in a breath and grips his hard on tightly, “Eds” he says, breath hitching, voice weak with lust and anxiety from his pressing question, “Can I come over?”

Eddie moves his hand from his length to grasp the soft sheets at his side with white knuckles as shivers violently racked his body at the loss of touch so close to climaxing. Eddie’s cock twitched against his belly as he sucked in a couple of deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down enough to answer Richie’s question.  He could practically hear Richie’s anxiety in the silence over the line.

With a stuttering exhale, Eddie whispered, “Yes.”

In high school, Eddie had been on the track team, ditching his inhaler once and for all, and worked his way up to setting the state of Maine’s high school records for the 200 meter straight dash and the two mile run. It took Eddie nine and a half minutes to run two miles. Now Richie, who had never joined any sports in high school, sprinted down two and a half miles of the ever awake streets of New York City and set a buzzing new record for the time it took for Richie to get to Eddie’s studio apartment. Richie was knocking on Eddie’s door twelve minutes after having hung up the phone in his apartment.

Eddie jumped when he heard the knocking; his fingers had been twisting together with anxiety as he waited for Richie to arrive and now that Richie was there, just on the other side of the door, they had stopped fidgeting and began slightly trembling. Eddie looked at himself in the large mirror he had hanging on the wall, he already looked fucked up; his hair sticking up in different directions, cheeks flushed, chest heaving under the soft white V-neck he wore, and his still erect cock straining against the fabric of his red shorts.

When he opened his apartment door, Richie looked just as wrecked as Eddie had imagined, and for a moment Eddie allowed his eyes to trail over Richie in his crumpled state against the doorframe, the taller man still panting from his run. When their eyes met, Richie swallowed thickly at the lust pooled in Eddie’s doe eyes and parted his thin lips, “I almost got hit by a taxi. I mean, I guess I kind of did, I was on the hood for a second. I think the guy started yelling at me but I didn’t stop.”

Eddie laughed and let the smile continue to tug at the corners of his mouth as he bit his lip and looked up shyly through his lashes, “Only you would get hit by a taxi and still run.”

“I think I was running towards something pretty important,” Richie whispered as he finally moved into Eddie’s personal space, letting the door softly swing shut behind them. Almost methodically, Eddie’s hands moved to hold the back of Richie’s neck and tangle in his dark curls as he picked Eddie up. Eddie allowed his strong, tanned thighs to wrap around Richie’s narrow hips before Richie set him down on the closest surface, which happened to be the counter that separates the kitchen and the rest of Eddie’s living space, crowding him almost instantly. “Eds,” Richie said upon an exhale.

Their foreheads rested together as Richie moved to stand between Eddie’s thighs, hands sliding up soft flesh before meeting the terrycloth of Eddie’s shorts and watching his fingertips disappear underneath the cuffs. Eddie, heart pounding violently within his chest, moved in until his nose bumped lightly against Richie’s freckled cheek and hesitated before slotting his lips against the slight roughness of Richie’s chapped ones.

Richie, whose heart was pounding in his ears and whose cock was straining furiously against his zipper, almost crumpled under the intensity of the chaste kiss and tried steadying his shaking hands by roughly groping Eddie’s upper thigh, hands almost lost entirely underneath the fabric of his shorts. Eddie gasped slightly into Richie’s mouth at the rough nature of his hands, which allowed Richie to smoothly slide their tongues together.

With soft fabric bunched against his slim wrists, Richie’s hands moved around to take handfuls of Eddie’s ass and pulled the smaller boy closer to him. Richie pulled back to whisper into Eddie’s ear, “I need you to tell me if it gets to be too much, Eds.”

Eddie nodded and Richie reattached his lips to the addicting flavour of strawberry Chapstick and Eddie Kaspbrak. Pulling Eddie’s hips forward again to meet his own, Richie groaned deeply into Eddie’s eager mouth as the tanned brunette pushed at Richie’s jacket, the denim bunching at his elbows before getting stuck. Eddie’s pelvis meeting his own sent electricity up Richie’s spine, causing the hairs on his body to stand tall and gooseflesh to rise from his pale skin. Pulling away from the kiss took all the physical self control Richie had over his body and then some, feeling cold as soon as his hands left Eddie’s body.

The view, to say the least, was worth it. Eddie’s hands were braced against the hard counter, shoulders slightly hunched, rising and falling with his panting breaths, his thighs were parted with his hard on trapped and prominent within his shorts, legs dangling off the edge of the counter. His mouth was red and swollen, lips glossed with Richie’s saliva, eyes glazed over with longing, and a blush stained his cheeks and chest. Richie had never seen anything quite as perfect.

“Holy fucking fuck,” Richie muttered before he tore his jacket off the rest of the way and he stripped his T-shirt from his body, causing the blush already on Eddie’s face and chest to deepen from pink to crimson. Following Richie’s lead, Eddie shyly lifted his V-neck over his head and threw it to the floor. Before he could push his overgrown bangs from his face Richie was pulling Eddie’s slight body off of the counter and carrying him towards the queen sized mattress that Eddie had resting on a box spring just below the bay window across the room.

“Richie,” Eddie moaned while tightening his legs around Richie’s slim waist and burying his face in his neck while one of his hands carded through Richie’s hair. It took Richie no less than three steps to trip over his previously discarded jacket, toppling forward and half landing on top of Eddie.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie said, scrambling to get off of the shorter man and check for injuries, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mea-”

Before Richie could ramble on Eddie pushed the trashmouth off of him, the lanky man landing on his back what felt like seconds before Eddie was climbing on top of him, knees spread on either side of Richie’s hips. Planting his hands on Richie’s chest, one over his ribs, and the other against his breastbone just above the other man’s racing heart; Eddie ground his hips down, plush rear meeting Richie’s desperate and clothed cock. “Bev taught me some wrestling tricks, and yeah,” Eddie stated without stopping his merciless grinding against a moaning Richie, whose hands had settled on Eddie taut thighs, “I will use them against you.”

Richie couldn’t help the whole hearted laughed that punched its way out of his chest, eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed, “Be careful Eds, mental imagery of you and Bev rolling around together on the ground might just make me cream my jeans.”

Eddie scoffed and, almost thoughtlessly, reached forward and harshly twisted one of Richie’s pink nipples between his thumb and index finger. Richie screeched at the pleasure-pain that coursed through his body through the small peak and bucked his hips up against Eddie sharply, body arching off the ground at a backbreaking angle. Eddie pressed his bottom against Richie’s crotch to hold him down as he continued his slow torture. Experimentally, Eddie moved until both of his hands were placed over Richie’s pectorals, thumbs rubbing tortuously slow at the aroused buds, one slightly bruising from Eddie’s previous attack.

Richie, who was now moaning with abandon, felt the growing sensation of peaking building inside of him, beginning to squirm underneath Eddie and growing desperate for more. “Oh, god,” Richie moaned, his voice laced with need as Eddie’s small thumbs continued their stroking movements, “Eddie, I’m all for nipple play and cumming untouched, but I don’t wanna jizz my pants. Not tonight.”

The pleading tone in Richie’s voice left Eddie with a satisfied feeling deep in his gut, one he would have to address at a later date because as soon as Eddie let up, Richie all but picked him up and threw him onto the pillow top mattress. The bounce that came after his initial impact with the bed left Eddie in a fit of giggles that hadn’t died down by the time Richie had crawled on top of him and when he was finally able to calm himself, he looked up to see Richie staring at him with complete adoration. 

“Tell me I’m not dreaming, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie whispered and his large hand settled on Eddies rouge cheek, thumb stroking the soft flesh there. Before Eddie could speak, as it seems to often be, Richie whispered again, a smirk taking over his face, “Nah, I couldn’t be. Dream Eddie is never this pretty.”

Eddie didn’t have the words, instead reaching down towards the waist of Richie’s jeans, nimble fingers toying with the button until it popped open, exposing the fly of the jeans and the ever-thickening trail of hair that lead from Richie’s navel to his cock. With one hand Eddie, torturously slow, dragged the zipper of Richie’s jeans down, almost leaving the man over him exposed, with the other he pulled Richie in by the back of his neck for another chaste kiss. 

“Please, Richie,” Eddie whispered as Richie kissed from his mouth and down his sharp jaw, hands pushing languidly at the denim at Richie’s hips, “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Richie nodded against Eddie’s skin, mouth leaving small red marks in its wake as he travelled down Eddie’s exposed chest and worshipped the familiar skin he’d never had the liberty of touching. Eddie arched towards Richie’s mouth and whispered small pleads into the air as Richie’s mouth reached the hem of his shorts, teeth biting at the material. “Let me see you, Eds,” Richie moaned and Eddie nodded, pleads increasing in volume.

“Richie,” Eddie thoughtlessly continued to nod, eyes shut and hands pulling at the soft fabric of his pale bed sheets. “Please touch me.”

Richie’s hands gripped the red fabric and started slowly tugging the shorts down Eddie’s sculpted, hairless legs, kissing the newly revealed skin of Eddie’s hip. Once Eddie’s cock was free, resting upwards against his stomach, Richie pulled Eddie’s shorts the rest of the way off and discarded them without concern of their landing point. Without a moment’s hesitation, Richie took Eddie’s length in his hand and placed his mouth along the side, kissing the tender flesh. “Eds?” Richie started, receiving a broken moan from the man above him, “I wanna suck your cock.”

“Fuck,” Eddie yelled when Richie’s tongue flattened itself against Eddie’s member and dragged itself to the tip where pre-cum was pearling and dripping in rivers. The salty taste of Eddie left Richie desperate, mouth encasing the head and swallowing the shaft down his throat. Eddie impulsively bucked up, hand flying into Richie’s curls and his brows knitting together as he lifted his head to watch Richie’s mouth experimentally engulf his cock.

Continuing to gently buck into Richie’s mouth, Eddie felt his stomach heating up at the feeling of Richie’s slightly crooked teeth scraping against the delicate skin of his cock. Blindly, Richie reached towards the night stand placed beside Eddie’s bed, wrapped his fingers around the knob of the small drawer, pulling it open and grabbing the bottle of lube that resided there. The hand that had been wrapped around the hairless base of Eddie’s cock moved to pour lubricant along the long fingers of Richie’s other hand, once satisfied Richie tossed it to the side and listened the bottle clatter to the floor. “Christ, Richie,” Eddie said as his bucking started to grow reckless and choppy, pleasure coursing through his shaking body.

Eddie roughly pulled Richie’s head away from his crotch by his curls just as his fingers started exploring Eddie’s puckered and desperate entrance. The overwhelming sensation of Richie’s perfectly filthy mouth and the breaching feeling of being stretched open left Eddie with a tight knot of pleasure in his stomach that was all too close to coming undone. Richie immediately tensed and froze every part of his body that touched Eddie and started to shake with fear that he had done something wrong. Eddie felt Richie’s rigid body before he saw the worry in his magnified eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Richie asked, lips swollen and coated with spit.

Eddie nodded and Richie visibly relaxed but didn’t continue his exploration of the naked man’s sensitive hole and Eddie felt the tension in his stomach from his impending orgasm leave him, sheepishly Eddie whispered, “I was going to cum.”

The blush that covered Eddie’s body darkened and Richie, keeping intense eye contact with Eddie, allowed his sheathed finger, already two knuckles deep, to curl and twist within the warmth that was Eddie.

“That's kind of the point, Spaghetti,” Richie smirked before lowering his head to pepper kisses and hickies over Eddie’s tanlined thighs, fingers slowly working their way in and out of Eddie’s tight body.

Eddie moaned and clutched the bed sheet, pulling the taut fabric from the corners of the mattress. As Richie added fingers to his relentless attack on Eddie’s entrance, Richie felt his heart begin to speed up in anticipation.

It's taken them upwards of a decade to get to this point. Years of pining had lead to the moment in time where Richie Tozier would brutally fuck Eddie open with his astonishingly long fingers. Richie occupied his mouth by continuing to suck at the head of Eddie’s abused cock, drool cascading down his shaft and causing Eddie’s skin to erupt with goosebumps. “Richie,” Eddie gasped, white knuckling his sheets, “Fuck, Richie, just fuck me. Please. Oh god.”

Richie pulled away from Eddie until their bodies no longer touched. The smaller man, who laid before his best friend naked and shameless, arched his back off the bed while trying to follow Richie’s warmth. Staring down at Eddie, Richie began pushing the denim jeans off of his hips, slowly exposing the brightly patterned briefs underneath, and Eddie, who was sweaty and panting, began to shake with the desperation and anticipation he felt fluttering in his stomach. 

Once Richie had kicked off his shoes, socks, and jeans, he climbed over Eddie with a grace he hadn’t ever seen Richie possess. His glasses had started to slide down the bridge of his narrow nose and, unconsciously, Eddie reached up to pull them off of the man above him but before he could Richie grabbed his wrist. “I wanna be able to see you, Eds,” he whispered, hot breath fanning over Eddie’s features, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Eddie felt a lump forming in his throat and pulled Richie down to press their lips together, stopping any unwanted whimpers in his throat from escaping. The kiss grew and swelled until the pair were frantically feeling each other, as if scared the other would disappear. Eddie’s hands roamed the uncharted plains of Richie’s back, running over the horizontal stretch marks that formed from his junior year growth spurt that brought him from 5’6 to over 6 foot. His nimble fingers danced up the knobs of Richie’s spine and came down over his shoulder blades while dragging his nails against his pale skin. Richie trembled as Eddie’s fingers dipped under the elastic band of Richie’s briefs, digging into the soft flesh of his ass.

 Richie shot up, Eddie’s hands still on his hips, and slid his underwear down, shucking them off of his ankles with a slight kick. Eddie’s thumbs rubbed over the protruding bone of Richie’s hip and flicked his eyes down to Richie’s erection briefly before looking back up and into the towering man's eyes. Richie leaned forward again, placing his weight down on his bony elbows and pressing his nose against Eddie’s, the smaller mans hands moving to hold Richie’s biceps. Richie’s lips softly pressed against Eddie’s again before he pulled away. 

Eddie’s legs were spread wide as Richie adjusted above him, knees bending to cage Richie’s hips while he leaned up on his elbows to chase Richie’s mouth. “Eds,” Richie said as he brought his hips down to meet Eddie’s, their erections pressed together hotly against Eddie’s pelvis. “Eds, I don’t have a-“

“I don’t care. I want you inside me,” Eddie whimpered as Richie continued to grind their cocks together. “I’m clean.”

“Eds, are you sure?”

Eddie nodded frantically, bringing one hand up to Richie’s curls and pulling him forward. Their foreheads pressed together and Eddie swallowed thickly, “I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Rich. I need you.” 

Richie’s brows furrowed and brought his hand down to his manhood, wrapping his long fingers around the base and bringing his length to press down between the soft flesh of Eddie’s ass. The head of his cock pushed against the puckered hole and Eddie dropped down from his elbows to throw an arm over his eyes and use his free hand to grip the sheets that bunched below him. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Eds.”

“Rich,” Eddie moaned, tapping Richie’s arm that continued to rub the leaking head of his cock over Eddie’s entrance. “Richie, you threw the lube somewhere.”

“Fuck,” Richie shouted as he jumped off of Eddie, the smaller man giggling as Richie ran around the bed, his pale, and surprisingly supple, ass shaking as he moved. Once Richie found the lube, he ran back over to Eddie, a smile pulling at his lips as he listened to Eddie laugh. 

For a moment, Richie felt his heart ache at the sight of Eddie. A tangled mess in the sheets of his bed, with a million dollar smile spread across his face and all the fondness and love Richie could ever hope for in his gaze. Richie felt the image settle in his heart as he climbed back over Eddie. “You’re so beautiful, Eds,” he said, free hand moving to Eddie’s cheek, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Richie moved until his hips rested between Eddie’s thighs and buried his face in the nape of the smaller boys neck. His mouth sucked at the sensitive skin there and, with his free hand, lubed his cock to the sound of Eddie moaning beneath him.

Pressing himself against Eddie’s entrance, Richie slowly pushed his cock into Eddie and began to tremble at the feeling of warmth enveloping him. “Fuck,” Eddie moaned as Richie’s cock stretched him out and he dug his nails into the skin of the taller mans shoulders. Richie’s mouth moved from Eddie’s neck up to his jaw, kissing and licking at the soft angles of his face. 

Once Richie’s hips rested against Eddie’s, his cock fully nestled inside of the smaller man, Richie looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes, hovering above him and putting his weight on his elbows. The pair stayed silent for a moment, Eddie’s hands roamed Richie’s collarbones and neck while Richie’s gripped the loose sheet beneath him.

Eddie let out a shaking breath before moving his hips slightly, feeling the drag of Richie’s cock and whimpering. “Fuck me, Richie.”

Without hesitating, Richie pulled his hips back almost completely before slamming them back against Eddie’s, shaking the man below him with the force of it. The eruption of pleasure punched a shout out of Eddie’s chest and his cock, which rested against his pale stomach, began leaking pre-cum in rivers that flowed across his ivory skin. 

“Fuck, Ed’s,” Richie moaned, eyes squeezing shut as rivets of pleasure traveled up his spine. “Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good. Holy shit.” 

Eddie moaned and pulled Richie’s chest down to meet his as their hips met rhythmically. The smaller man was panting and letting out whines as Richie slammed into him, moving his entire body up the mattress. Slowly, Eddie’s hands travelled up to grip Richie’s unruly and sweaty hair in a vice, jerking his head to the side to meet his lips in a slick and messy kiss.

The man above him moaned and, despite the sweat covering his skin, broke out in goosebumps at the tingling sensation fluttering down from where Eddie’s hands gripped him. Richie moved his mouth from Eddie’s and trailed open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck before sucking a dark purple mark into the skin his collarbone rested beneath. The pinching feeling left Eddie squirming and tears began to pool in his dark eyes, the sensation becoming too much as Richie shifted and began hitting his prostate with every thrust of his hips.

“Right there, Richie,” he yelled out, back arching to chase the feeling. “Right there, fuck me.”

Richie laughed weakly against Eddie’s shoulder and slowed his hips, “That’s kind of what I’m doing, Eds.”

Eddie moaned, freely and slack-jawed, “You fuck me so good, Rich.”

“Yeah?” Richie groaned, moving to balance on his hands to look down at Eddie as he rocked his hips into the man below him. “You like how I fuck you, baby? Nice and deep?”

Eddie nodded his head as Richie’s hand moved to cup the side of his rouge race, thumb dipping into his mouth and grazing his tongue. “Keep going, Richie. Please,” he whispered as Richie thumb moved to trace his bruised lips, “I’m so close.”

Richie began to slam his cock harder into Eddie with a steady but brutal pace, slim hips meeting the soft sides of Eddie’s thighs as the smaller man held Richie close with his legs. “I want you to cum without me touching your dick, Eddie.”

Eddie whimpered, his cock twitched while his balls ached and tensed with the need to release. The coil in his stomach tightened and, as Richie’s cock continued to meet his prostate in a brutal attack, he felt his remaining resolve start to shake, working him up as moans and tears began to flow freely from him. “Shit, Richie. Shit, I love you so much. I love you so fucking much, keep fucking me. Please, please Rich.”

Richie’s eyes squeezed shut and he felt his composure snap, his hips stuttering and his cum starting to shoot out of him and into Eddie’s warmth. “Eds, Eds, Eds,” he moaned with each thrust, “Fuck, I love you, Eds. So fucking much.”

At the feeling of Richie’s warmth and the confession falling from his lips, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and began to spill ropes of cum against his stomach and Richie’s chest, arching as Richie’s hips continued to work him through his orgasm.

The stars and lights behind Eddie’s eyes began to fade out as Richie collapsed against him and mouthed at his neck, moaning praise incoherently. Eddie’s legs, still wrapped around Richie, trapped the other man on top of him as his hands trailed along the angry red marks that marred his back.

The pair come down from their high, sweaty and sticky, wrapped in each other and the late night New York bliss. 

“Hey,” Richie whispered against his skin, still breathless, “I love you.”

Eddie felt more tears gently leak out of his eyes, hugging Richie closer to his body, “I love you, too.”

“Do you think,” Richie started, unsure of how to finish, he took a moment to think it over before huffing out a lazy laugh, “Do you think we should take that shower now?”

Eddie laughed below Richie, the force of his giggles jostling Richie. “Definitely.”

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

Little Bird

Request: wanted to ask you if you could do a Loki x teen!Reader. Where the reader meets Loki in some way and she touches him and connect their souls 'cause she has powers she doesn't know about. And then some day she's in pain or smth and Loki feels it and comes to her. And she finds out she just can connect her soul with someone she trusts. And loki is all sweet ? And angst maby. Please and thank you.

Pairing: Loki Odinson x teen!Reader

Chapter: 1/2

Warning: some slight violence that it not really graphic but thought I’d warn you!

            The ground beneath your feet trembles as the latest villain of New York decides they are powerful enough to take on the Avengers. Living in the city you thought you would get used to this, but every time is different and equally terrifying. Your parents have suggested that you all move. A suggestion you have constantly protested till you were blue in the face. Despite all the danger, you feel as though it is where you belong.

             A team of nanobots cling together as they tear a hole in the wall in front of you. Before you could react, the nanobots swarm over your body and carry you out of the window of your high school. The wind ripples through your hair as your screams illuminate the sky around you. Then suddenly you are falling. The nanobots let go of you right over the chaos of moving cars and frantic people not paying attention.

             Two arms grab you from impending death and a sense of calm washes over you. Looking into an ocean of blue eyes, you find them looking into your (Y/E/C) orbs. An unnatural electricity travels from your skin into his fingertips. It is as if a part of you knows this man, but yet you’ve never met before. Despite the calming sensation radiating off of him, your heart begins to flutter at an irregular rate. Excitement, longing, and safety overwhelms your system as you feel the possibility of fainting approach.

“Hold on a moment little bird.” His accent leaks into your conscious and you find yourself releasing a breath you’ve been holding. “We are almost there.”

             Tearing your eyes from his, you try to take in the rest of his appearance. He is lean but still a little muscular. Shiny, long dark hair flows in the wind behind him like smoke. His face is slender and you swear you’ve seen him before, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

             Your time is cut too short, to your dismay. The mystery man returns you to the front of your high school. His careful touch directs you to sit on the steps leading to the front set of doors. You look into his eyes one last time and feel a pain of sadness heave from your chest. All you want to do is stay in his arms and stare into his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Your best friend Cami exclaims behind you. “Loki just saved your life!”

“Who?” You slowly stand up with Cami’s help. Still dazed, but your eyes don’t leave him until he is out of view.

“You know! Loki is Thor’s brother, the Avenger. Super muscular, hot, and strong.”

             Loki just saved your life. A god you barely knew but somehow felt like you did. He stopped what he was doing and saved you, out of anyone else in New York. That kind of stuff just didn’t happen right? It just happened by chance, that must be the reason. Though, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself, there is something in the way it felt to be around him that you couldn’t shake.

Two Years Later

             Walking home from the latest dance club, you think about how much fun you’ve had tonight. Today was your 17th birthday and Cami took you out dancing because she knows it is your favorite thing to do.  You’ve always loved how the music can sway your body. For you it is much more of the feeling of the music versus the lyrics.

             You turn down an alley leading to a shortcut to your apartment a few blocks down. Normally you don’t walk alone at night or you get a cab, but there it is really hard to get a cab this late at night. Besides, it isn’t too terribly far of a walk.

             Two men lounge against an old rotting dumpster in the middle of the alley. They talk to each other in hushed whispers that sends an unsettling shiver up your spine. Everything about this feels wrong and you go to turn around when they spot you.

“Hey, don’t walk away from us!” The man shouts. “We know you saw us. Let’s just chat.”

             Attempting to sprint in heals is not a good plan. No one can actually do it and it is a good way to lose one’s balance. Thankfully you catch yourself before you completely fall to the ground, but it allows the men extra time to get to you.

             One grabs you by the arm and pulls your body close to his. You can smell the tobacco seeping from his clothes into your nostrils. You’ve never been one to like the smell, your uncle smokes and would often blow the residue in your face. The smell has left you extremely nauseous and sensitive over the years.

You almost don’t notice the gun the second man pulls out from his belt. As your mind detects what is going on, the man holding you grabs for your purse. It is small but does happen to carry your credit card, and a few twenty-dollar bills. You don’t put up much of a fight. You’ve always been told that if someone had a gun and wanted your purse, to just give it to them. It’s not worth your life.

“What do you think Hal?” The man with the gun asks. “Think we should let her go so easily? Or should we have some fun first?”

             A lump forms in the back of your throat as you process what he is saying. Limb paralyzing fear immobilizes your body. Your mind is screaming at your legs to move, but they don’t obey the command. The man holding you pulls out a knife and gently grazes the cool metal against your cheek.

“Pretty girls sting.” The man Hal sings. “But so do boys with broken wings.”

             A cool sharp pain congregates on your face, your cheek. The man holding the knife slowly cuts your skin deep enough for blood to slowly drip from your pierced skin. As an inhuman sound erupts from your throat, the second man covers his hand over your mouth and grabs it to keep from moving. Tears stream down your face. Forming a new gloss over your cut, causing it to sting worse than before.

             You can now feel the flat part of the blade float over your collarbone. The man removes it like before, and you await the next cut on your flesh. But it never comes. In fact the men release you from their grasps and you see them running for their lives down the alley. It occurs to you that you should be running too. If there is something scary enough to make them run, then you definitely do not want to stick around.

             However, your body still does not want to comply with your thoughts. One step in that direction sends your body tumbling to the concrete below. But like the second cut of the knife, you do not feel your body meet the ground. Instead two familiar arms catch you and curl you closer to their owner.

“You have some explaining to do, little bird.”

**

             You wake up in your own bed and in a fresh set of pajamas from your drawer. Remembering what happened in the alley your hand shoots up to your cheek. Feeling all around your skin; you expect to find stitches, an open cut, or at the least a scar. There is nothing. In disbelief you stand up and rush to a mirror in your room, but it only confirms the impossible.

“You should lay back down.” A deep alluring voice from behind makes you jump from your skin. “There is a chance you could be in shock.”

             Whipping your head around you come face to face with him once again. Your mysterious man that saved you in the clouds, Loki. Examining him, you see that very little has changed. His frame is still lean but muscular, tall, and his dark hair rests around his shoulders. Every inch of him calls out to you like before and you feel instantly safe.

“Why are you here? How did you know I was in trouble?” Your voice is horse, barely over a whisper but just as strong.

“I should be asking you that question.” Loki takes a step closer to you slowly, trying not to startle you. “Two years ago I started being able to sense when you are in trouble or scared. Most of the time is was false alarms. You getting in trouble at school, or with your parents, when you are watching a scary movie. Of which you probably should stop watching, I don’t think it is very healthy for your heart to experience such distress.”

             Loki’s movements continue, slow and methodical. As if he is approaching a wild beast and does not want to provoke it. The closer he gets the more intoxicated by his presence you are. Once he stops just a few inches from you, you finally process what he said.

“What are you saying?”

“I think you linked us. I don’t think you are an ordinary human like everyone else. There is something…” He smiles before continuing, “extraordinary about you. And I mean that in the best of ways.”

             Nothing could keep away the dash of blush that filters through your cheeks. Obviously Loki noticed it as well and a greater smile crosses his lips. You are hit with another wave of intoxication as you revisit the pleasure of how close he is to you. Before you could say or do anything, you feel your legs threaten to give way. Loki notices this too and gently helps you back to your bed.

             Loki peels back the covers on your mattress as you slip underneath them. A new sense of fear engulfs you at the possibility that he will leave. That he will disappear out your window and you’ll never see him again. Or at the very least, another two years.

“Please don’t go.” You’re voice sounds like a begging child. Signaling, you direct Loki to lay down next to you in your bed. He quickly obliges like he had no intention of leaving at all.

“How do you know where I live?” You ask.

“Don’t be frightened okay?” Loki’s fingers lightly trace your arm in a back-and-forth motion. “After the first intense episode of your distress, I was worried and wanted to check on you. I got your address from a… friend.” You smile as you get the feeling the person he is referring to isn’t entirely his buddy. “Then it just became a habit. At night I would visit to give me some peace of mind that you are safe. It’s strange, I’ve never cared so much for a mortal to stay alive.”

“But you said I’m different.” You interject and Loki just nods in agreement. “When you saved me a couple years ago, and even right now, I feel this connection like I know you. Or that I am supposed to know you. I swear almost every night I have dreams about you.”

             Loki’s soft chuckles lightly move your bed. Unsure of what could be so funny, you knit your eyebrows together and look up at his perfect god-like face. How is it possible for one person to be this gorgeous?

“I know you dream about me.” Loki tries to contain his laughter. “I’ve heard you call my name a few times. It is very fun for me.”

             You playfully smack his chest. Of which just makes him laugh more than before. Not able to resist the contagiousness of his laugh, you join in too as you hide your face in the side of his body. An uncontrollable heat spreads through your face and you would be embarrassed for him to see.

             But Loki doesn’t let you off the hook that easily. Knowing that you are virtually unmovable, Loki positions his body to shrink down to your eye level. His beautiful blue eyes pierce yours, bypassing your wards and right into your soul. Never have you met someone who can make your toes curl by just one look.

“Before two years ago I didn’t know what was missing.” Loki’s soft voice brushes against your nose, drawing you in. “I thought just watching over you during the night… I thought it was enough. But being this close. I don’t think I can leave.”

“Then don’t.” Your words are so soft, you’re not sure you actually said them.

             Loki’s fingers move some free hairs from your face, and you are reminded of how he is only a few inches away from you. Uncontrollably, your heart begins to race and you wonder if he can feel it too. If he does, Loki offers no indication of the sort.

As he tucks the last bit behind your ear his hand rests on the side of your face. His thumb strokes the skin just below your eye before his finger traces the line of your jaw. Keeping near the section that joins your neck, his fingers explore that part of you as well. Little electrical butterflies are left behind in their place, exciting every cell in your body.

Loki’s lips cautiously brush against yours. Lighting the ignition, you close your eyes and deepen the kiss. You become suddenly afraid he may take his initial action back. But those fears are chased away by Loki pulling your body closer to his own. Your limbs intertwine with his as you both attempt to close any gap between.

Still not satisfied with the perceived distance, Loki partially hovers his body over yours as his free hand travels down your waist. Meanwhile, you run your fingers though his locks of dark hair. Pulling on a strand or two, you find that he secretly loves it. Even though he may deny it later.

Your body glides with his as your heartbeats rise with new demands. Then suddenly there is nothing but air around you. Loki is gone. Taking the opportunity to catch your breath, you look around your room and find Loki sitting on your window sill. His breathing is has heavy as your own.

“I’m sorry.” He manages to say.

             Suddenly you feel very exposed. All your clothing is intact but you’ve never felt more naked. Does he regret what happened? Is he going to leave? Will he ever come back?

“Don’t mistake my apology as a sign of regret.” It’s like he can read your mind, or at least your face. “I just… I can be dangerous if I get carried away. I don’t think I could bare something happening to you, especially at my hand.”

             You nod, trying to decide if you believe him. Loki is almost out of your room, only one simple move and he can disappear well into the night. But he doesn’t. Instead, Loki slips back into your room and watches your eyes intently for a sign to stop. His body repositions next to yours and you rest your head against his chest as his arms wrap around you protectively.

“Sleep, little bird.” Loki’s voice draws you to sleep. “Tomorrow we will figure out how special you truly are.”

Chapter 2

Taglist: @drabby-abby​

[mood-swings-for-days]

Thunderstorm Ι Ch. 4 Ι JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Werewolf!au

Word count: 7, 535

Warnings: Characters in a less than healthy state of mind, violence, slight body horror, an addicted to cigarettes Jungkook (don’t do drugs, kids!)

Summary: An accidental encounter triggers a series of events that shatter your monotonous life. A new relationship starts to develop, following the stages of a thunderstorm.

Note: Written under the influence of beautiful music

1   2   3   4

Chapter 4: Downpour

      Dull light seeped into your room through the sheer curtains hanging on the window. Raindrops drummed against the glass in tune with the quiet music flowing from the radio. Gray clouds diffused the sunlight, painting the world in desaturated hues of its former colors. The forest just beyond your back yard oozed with thick white fog. You lay in bed awake for what seemed like hours, watching the night fade away.

      You heard a door creak, followed by quick footsteps against the hardwood floor of the hallway. A beat of silence and then the muffled sound of dishes rattling reached you. You listened to your roommate prepare herself a bowl of cereal and sit down to eat with the quiet voice of the weatherwoman to keep her company.

      “… ranging from 5° to 10°C during the day, however temperatures will drop below 0° in the evening and we might even be getting some snow for the first time this season.”

      You rolled over in bed, glancing at the clock on your night stand. Your head sank back down into the pillow. Porcelain clacked against stainless steel in the sink and water started flowing from the faucet. Once she was done, your roommate padded back down the hallway and went into her room.

      With a sigh you pushed the covers off of your body. Cold air immediately crawled over you, rising goosebumps in its wake. The hand that previously rested on your stomach started gliding up the length of your body, across the valley of your chest and came to a stop at the junction of your neck. Underneath your palm your jugular throbbed vigorously with the memory of your intimate dream in mind. The skin of your throat, although clear, tingled with the ghosts of a dozen love bites, left behind by the lips you very soul yearned to capture. You closed your eyes, reliving for the umpteenth time the way your fingers would run through his thick hair, blunt nails grazing his scalp ever so gently as lithe sighs tumbled from his mouth. His hands held onto your waist tightly, pressing you against a hard body that felt oh so hot to the touch. His satin skin felt heavenly gliding against your own.

      “Jungkook…” you whispered when his sharp canines grazed against a raw patch on the side of your neck. He only hummed in response and squeezed you harder. His tongue running the length of your collarbone was the only warning you got before he sank his teeth into the fleshy swell of your breast. Your hands tightening in his hair and the tiny whimper that reached his ears stopped him before he got too carried away. Your whole body was tingling. The pain from the shallow bite made the adrenaline spike in your system.

      You sighed again, covering your hot face with your hands. You almost felt embarrassed about how much you enjoyed that dream. It was so vivid you could still feel him if you concentrated. Turning your imagination off for now, you rolled out of bed.

      You listened to the monotone beeps of the barcode scanner as you tried not to focus on your wet socks. Your old sneakers had lost the battle with the weather once again, causing your feet to become soaked in the cold, invasive rainwater. The person in front of you had rolled up to the register with a heaping cart full of absolute garbage. As you scanned bottle after bottle of cheap alcohol and copious amounts of snacks you couldn’t help but think that this kid was preparing to throw the biggest party his teenage-self had ever attended. He’d walked up to you with a wide grin and a hand already offering his ID to prove that he’d just recently become a legal adult. Coming around to the last few items, you peeked up only to see him excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet, staring intently at the goods you were tucking into the big paper bags to your right. His bill came up pretty steep, but he was more than happy to throw two hundred dollar bills on the counter, telling you to keep the change. You watched him wrestle the bags into his arms clumsily and run out the door after waving you goodbye. You dropped the $9,50 inside your tip jar as you started to wonder when was the last time you got that excited about something. You glanced at the clock on the wall and figured you still had a while before your shift ended. With a sigh you propped your hip against the register and reached into your back pocket for your phone. Yara’s number was the first one to show up in your history and after a few short rings she picked up.

      “Sup?”

      “Hey, I’m working. Can you talk for a bit?”

      “Uh-huh,” her voice sounded kind of muffled “gimme a sec, I got some brushes in my mouth.”

      “Yeah?” You giggled

      A rattle sounded on the other end “I’m doing my makeup. What’s up?”

      “Do you want to hang out later?” you cringed right after the words left your mouth “I don’t have much to do after my shift ends.”

      “Sorry hun, I already have plans with that one guy. I mean you’re welcome to tag along, but you might not enjoy it as much as I will.”

      You immediately knew what she was talking about. The guy in question was someone from one of Yara’s classes and she’d had an eye on him for a while. It was nice of her to invite you, but the thought of her not-so-subtle flirting in public made you want to hide.

      “Yeah, I’ll pass. You two have fun.”

      “Thanks!” you were just about to bid her goodbye when she chimed in “Why don’t you call Jungkook?”

      Your heart skipped a little. Why? Because you were afraid that he won’t pick up, again. You didn’t feel like going through the mortification of having to leave a stupid voice mail only for him to never call you back. Yara took your silence as hesitation and continued.

      “Y/n how long are you going to pretend that you don’t like the guy?”

      “I’m not. I do like him;” Your voice was small “I just want some feedback from him.”

      “I’m happy you admit it at least.” Yara’s tone softened “You know there’s nothing wrong in asking him, right?”

      “Yeah, but I’m afraid of rejection.”

      “That’s fair. Still, you’ll never know for sure unless you ask him.”

      You nodded your head, vaguely registering that Yara couldn’t really see you. The conversation had reached a point at which you didn’t want to respond and Yara knew it.

      “Okay, bye. I’ll see you at university.”

        “Bye, hun. Do you want me to call you tonight?”

      “No, it’s fine. Call me if something happens.”

      “Of course.” Yara knew to reach out to you in case of an emergency “I’ll see you later.”

      And with a click the line went silent. Outside thunder rumbled in the distance and the sound of raindrops against the windows of your shop softened.

      Just a couple of customers came in after that. The first one wandered around the aisles for a while, leaving wet footprints everywhere, and left once the rain started to subside. The second one entered shortly after the first, bought a chocolate bar and left without sparing you a single glance. You waited around for several more minutes before fetching the mop. In the midst of scrubbing the white tiles with admirable vigor your hand slipped on the handle and you fell face-first into the rack in front of you. Multiple packs of cigarettes, lighters and other accessories tumbled to the ground. Cursing under your breath, you watched the shelf wobble dangerously, but thankfully manage not to fall. The commotion caused the items that didn’t fall out to topple over instead. With a huff you shoved the mop back into the bucket and pushed it aside. You were going to be stuck rearranging merchandise for hours.

      Perched on a step ladder, you reached into the very back of the top shelf to try and get the last few boxes of cigarette filters. You’d managed to put almost everything back by the time your shift was over. Glancing over at the clock you figured that as per usual Yoongi would be arriving late. You hugged the stacked boxes to your chest and proceeded to place them back on the shelf in neat rows.

        The little bell above the door jingled.

        “Hello.” You greeted blindly

      By the sound of slow footsteps, headed for you, you assumed it was your coworker finally showing up. Placing the last item in its place you were just about to speak again as the footsteps came to a stop. The words died in your throat when you felt a pair of hands smooth up your thighs and curl around your hips. You flinched at the contact, turning to look at the person behind you. Turning around, you were surprised to see Jimin smiling up at you. Without a word he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off of the step ladder.

      “Hey.” He mumbled, not letting go of your body. In fact, he tried to pull you closer, which you countered by pushing your hands against his chest.

      “Jimin, what are you doing here?”

      “Oh, I was in the mood for something sweet and just happened to stumble upon you.”

      Oh, he was in a mood all right, you could tell just by the look in his eyes. His naturally dominant nature was practically radiating off of him, nailing you in place. It was going to be difficult to get out of this situation, you could feel it.

      His fingers played with the hem of your shirt as his gaze dropped to the sliver of smooth skin, peeking out of the unbuttoned collar of your shirt. All of a sudden you felt terribly exposed in your normally conservative work uniform.

      You cleared your throat and made a move to create some distance between the two of you. With a final squeeze, his hands parted with your body.

      “So, how have you been?” You tried to ease the tension with small talk as you speedily walked up to the register. Jimin languidly followed suit. You could hear his footsteps approaching behind you while you pretended to scrub the glass counter with a small rag you managed to find inside your pocket. Unbeknownst to you, your back was left completely exposed and Jimin wasn’t about to pass up on that opportunity. A chill ran the length of your spine when you felt his arms close in on either side of you, hands coming to rest on the surface in front of you.

      “I’ve been good.” He whispered and you hated the way your body trembled at the feeling of his breath against the shell of your ear. “And you?”

      “M-me too.”

      All of your self-control betrayed you in the face of his close proximity. Your hands started shaking when you felt the faintest brush of his hips against your ass. All of your senses were overcome by his scent and the warmth, radiating off of him. You almost felt gross about the way your body immediately reacted to his advances, without giving you the chance to think about it. He dipped his head into the curve of your neck, hot breath gliding over your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing with difficulty and trying your best to stay still to minimize contact. Jimin breathed a soft chuckle and your heart flipped. A dark, deep seated desire to give into him started to slither its way out of the cracks of your consciousness. You felt entranced, as if someone had taken over your mind for a long moment before the rational part of you jumped in. Giving into Jimin was the worst possible thing to do right now. You parted your lips, swallowing a big lungful of air to try and clear your head. Just as you were about to speak, the bell on the door jingled, piercing the atmosphere around you.

      You jumped as his arms quickly dropped from your sides. You turned just in time to see Yoongi walking in with his sights already set on Jimin.

      “What are you doing here?” your coworker jumped straight to the point

      Jimin grinned innocently “Nothing illegal, hyung.”

        Yoongi was staring Jimin down with a stern look on his face and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something you didn’t know.

        “I’m, uh, I’ll go change.” You mumbled awkwardly and started to back away. Neither of them payed you any mind, frozen in a silent face-off.

      The staff room door clicked behind you as you leaned against it. You waited there for a few seconds, trying to hear if they started talking now that you were out of the picture. You quickly gave up, figuring that at best Yoongi would tell Jimin off and make him leave. You were half way through pulling your jeans over your ass when you heard your coworker throw in a few expletives, but when you paused to listen in, the conversation became indistinguishable once again. With a huff you shoved your uniform inside your bag.

      “Shall we head out?” Jimin offered once he saw you walk out of the door and you just nodded begrudgingly.

      “Yeah, Jimin you can go ahead, I need to have a word with y/n for a sec.”

      You were surprised that your coworker butted in and came to a stop once you reached the register. Jimin just shrugged and walked out without any objections. Yoongi waited until he was out of sight before he turned to you.

      “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into, but don’t mess around with Park Jimin.”

      Straight to the point, huh? You could feel your face heating up with the embracement of being caught red handed. Of course Yoongi had seen the little stunt Jimin pulled earlier. Hell, a lot of people probably saw, considering you were in plain sight of the huge windows. You could maybe play it off and blame Jimin for the whole situation, but the truth is you made no move to push him away. Knowing that it was partially your fault stung worse than the embarrassment of being caught. Yoongi’s sharp eyes held no sympathy for your unfavorable position.

      “I assure you, he’s not what you think he is.” He continued “Stay away from him.”

      You looked at him confusedly. For some reason the ambiguity with which he spoke made your hair stand on end.

      “Now, go out there and tell him to fuck off.”

      “But why didn’t you-” You tried to protest, but he cut you off sharply.

      “Because it’s not my place to intervene. He needs to hear it from you.”

      You stared back at him with a sour expression even though you knew he was right. He wasn’t going to budge and you needed to sort your own problems like an adult.

      “Come on now, get lost.”

      You sighed and headed out without saying goodbye. You could feel his eyes on you until you exited the store and rounded the corner. Once you were out of sight, you spotted Jimin leaning against the exposed brick wall of the neighboring building. He had his hands in his pocket as he stared off into the night sky. The last slivers of sunlight were becoming extinguished by dark and heavy rainclouds. The lamps lining the street started to flicker on. You eyed Jimin for a second before shoving your fists into your jacket pockets and walking up to him.

      “I love it when it rains.” He stated simply once you were within earshot. You watched his profile as he inhaled deeply. “Are you driving tonight?”

      “Yeah.” You lied

      He turned to look at you. The streetlight reflected off of his skin, making his features look sharp. You squeezed your fists tighter. The look in his eye was taunting, like he saw right through you.

      “Let me walk you to your car then.”

      It wasn’t a suggestion. Out of nervous habit, you bit down on your bottom lip.

      “No, thank you.”

      “Why not?” He retorted, taking a step toward you “It’s dark, something might snatch you up.”

      “I’ll be fine. It’s just around the corner.”

      Jimin’s gaze dragged slowly down your rigid frame. He smirked when his eyes landed on yours once again. This whole situation was all too entertaining to him. With a few long strides he closed the distance between you. Before you could step back, his hands came to rest just above your elbows. He cocked his head to the side and pouted when he saw you frown.

      “Y/n…” he mumbled in a raspy tone “We’re both adults, right?”

      You stared up at him wordlessly, breath hitching in your throat when you saw him lick his lips.

      “I really like you.”

      “Damn, you sound desperate.”

      You jumped away from Jimin immediately. You turned just in time to see Jungkook rounding the corner with a cigarette and a knowing smirk hanging on his lips. He walked up to Jimin and got right in his face, tucking you safely behind his back in the process.

      “Fuck off, Jimin.”

      As he spoke, he blew smoke in the elder’s face, making him flinch back and cough into his hand. Jimin glared at Jungkook, taking a few steps backward before turning on his heel and taking off down the street.

      You watched the whole thing go down with bated breath. You were expecting a much bigger commotion to ensue after Jungkook stepped in so aggressively, but Jimin surprised you when he simply ran off. You stared after him until his silhouette was no longer visible.

      Turning around to face you, Jungkook exhaled a deep sigh. The smoke from his by now almost burnt out cigarette swirled around you, making you sniffle. You watched intently as his expression softened once your eyes met. Without a word, his hand closed around your forearm and you fell into his chest. His arms squeezed around your shoulders and you couldn’t hold back from hugging him back. Jungkook rested his chin on the top of your head and breathed a sigh of relief. You blinked once, twice and it felt like an eternity before he finally spoke up.

      “Don’t do that. Please, stay away from him.” You felt his heart pound against your cheek as he spoke. His plea sounded soft and shaky. Not really knowing how to respond, you just squeezed his waist tighter. It felt so good to embrace him like that, you never wanted to let go. His warmth, his scent, his heartbeat, everything about him made you feel safe. Jungkook felt you nuzzle into him and it made him chuckle lightly. His hand smoothed over your hair soothingly before he pulled back to look at your face. You didn’t realize you were smiling until he grinned back at you and a soft blush bloomed along your cheekbones.

      “Let’s go, hmm?” he offered quietly

      “I’d like that.”

      His hand slipped down the length of your arm until your fingers intertwined. His skin was dry and cold, but the feeling of it made warmth blossom in your chest. Jungkook gently tugged you closer to his side as you strolled down the street. You happily watched the way your footsteps seemed to match his perfectly while he would occasionally steal sideways glances at your pretty face.

      “I kind of want to wander around for a bit. Is that okay with you or are you too cold?” Jungkook asked softly.

      You turned to properly look at him. His otherwise pale face was dusted pink at the tip of his nose and cupid bow. You didn’t know if it was the look in his rounded eyes, but you suddenly felt bold.

      “I’d like to spend some more time with you, too.”

      Jungkook immediately grinned at your confession, a light laugh rolling off of his reddened lips.

      “I’m relieved to hear that. Honestly, I’ve been missing you lately.”

      Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t allow it to choke out your next question “Where were you then?”

      You watched him carefully as the question seemed to catch him off guard. He smiled tightly and broke eye contact. A few deep breaths passed through his lungs before he was ready to speak.

      “I… You could say I’ve been dealing with myself.”

      He glanced back at you and you didn’t seem satisfied with his answer. You could tell that he was tiptoeing around the truth by the way he avoided prolonged eye contact. His hand unconsciously tightened around yours. You realized that it was making him uncomfortable, but the mystery that was Jeon Jungkook was plaguing you for far too long and you couldn’t let it go that easily. He chewed on his bottom lip as he tried to make up his mind. Your attention was suddenly diverted when you saw a pointed canine sink into the flesh of his lip. It wasn’t impractically long, just sharp enough to become noticeable. Although Jimin’s canines were more pronounced, Jungkook’s seemed eerily similar. You found yourself running your tongue along your upper row of teeth to see if it was more common than you thought, but yours were dull, flat almost. You stared at his mouth in poorly disguised bewilderment until you noticed him looking. His lips pressed tightly together as you slowly looked up to meet his eye.

      “What?” You blurted out dumbly and he just shook his head. The pace of his footsteps didn’t falter when he retrieved yet another cigarette from his back pocket. You watched the flame of his lighter cast a yellow light to his features for a brief second then flicker and die. He inhaled the fumes deep into his lungs. You were almost mesmerized by the way smoke poured from his lips and brushed past his cheekbones.

      “I needed to figure some shit out?” Jungkook’s next attempt at explaining came out sounding uncertain. He glanced back at you. “I had to decide how I feel.”

      The last line piqued your interest.

      “About what?”

      “About a lot of things.” He looked ahead as he took another drag from his cigarette “About…you, too.”

      His hand tightened around yours and you could almost feel it close around the heart hammering in your chest. You fell silent. You wanted to pry further and ask more questions, but the rapid pounding in your ears drowned out your words.

      Your legs were moving on their own as you tried to keep up with Jungkook who was sucking the life out of his cigarette faster than you thought a man was capable of. The store windows lining your peripheral soon faded as you crossed a couple of walkways and found yourself at the entrance of the town park. The place was nothing spectacular with long winding stone paths going across fields of withered grass and trees with nothing but bare branches to flaunt. You stared up at the intricate curves in the iron arc that was once part of the park gates. You followed Jungkook past it and down the main path obediently. Thin fog swirled around you while rotting wet leaved squelched underneath your old sneakers. You stared straight ahead as you tried to make up your mind. You wanted to continue this conversation so badly, you couldn’t let the opportunity slip, but you were suddenly tongue tied. By this point you were convinced that your feelings weren’t one sided and now was the chance to have Jungkook confirm it verbally, but you were afraid. Until now, you’ve only just come to terms with the feelings part, but you didn’t exactly know what that implied. Something told you that if Jungkook was willing to pursue a relationship, that would mean long term commitment, like really long term. You actually couldn’t picture yourself with anyone else beside you and you barely even knew the guy. Never in your twenty-something years on this Earth have you ever looked at a man and thought “I could grow old with him.”. Until you encountered Jungkook it seemed alien that a person you meet in your twenties could be the one you spend the rest of your life with. And the rest of your life was such a long time too, you didn’t think you could ever be prepared to make a decision like that. On the other hand, your chest clenched painfully at the thought of just letting him walk out of your life. Your hand squeezed his weakly.

      You watched the old lake come into view. As you approached its murky waters you had already made up your mind.

      You stopped abruptly when you reached the edge. Jungkook wasn’t expecting it and tugged on your arm once before also coming to a stop. Those tall old post lights lined the edge of the lake and you happened to be standing underneath one of them. You knew Jungkook was looking at you questioningly, but you needed a moment to compose yourself before facing him. You watched the wind ripple the surface of the water as you breathing steadied.

      “How…” you started quietly before turning to him “How do you feel about me?”

      Jungkook immediately recognized the look in your big glossy eyes and it made his heart skip a million times over. Electricity violently zapped the surface of his skin, spreading from the point where your fingers were still intertwined. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, making his breathing heavier. You looked pale, timid and vulnerable under the fluorescent lights. Jungkook felt like he was holding your fragile porcelain heart right in his bare hands as you had unknowingly given him permission to do with it whatever he saw fit. He swallowed once, twice, but not a single syllable rolled off his tongue, even though the answer to your question was quite simple to him. In his head he repeatedly chanted that he was taking way too long to respond. Oh, he would be one hell of an idiot if he chickened out now.

      The tiniest movement beside your face caught his attention briefly. A small white speck was floating down from the sky, crossing the lantern’s light only to melt on your shoulder. Another one followed shortly after, and another, until Jungkook realized it was snowing. Thousands of tiny snowflakes dusted over the both of you, some disappearing into the ground and others getting caught in the loose strands of your hair. Jungkook was positive that he had never seen a prettier sight than your worried face with a halo of melting snowflakes framing it.

      He yanked you into his frame by your hand. You flinched at the sudden disturbance, but your body moved toward him regardless. His hands rested gingerly at the top of your hips, smoothing over the wrinkled material of your jacket. He seemed hesitant, but the soft look in his eyes soothed your racing heart.

      “I have very strong feelings for you.” He finally muttered and it made him cringe at his wording “Shit, that sounded weird. What I want- … what I meant to say is that I like you very much.”

      You couldn’t stop the grin that overcame your features. He was too cute as he got flustered and stumbled over his words a little. Nevertheless, Jungkook’s expression mirrored yours.

      “Yeah, me too.” You whispered when he pressed his forehead to yours.

      “Can I kiss you? I want to do it properly this time.”

      Your whole body was warm with giddiness and it felt like your cheeks would crack with how wide your smile had gotten. You nodded lightly, afraid that words would ruin the atmosphere that had started to form. Jungkook looked at you for a moment longer before his eyelids dropped and he leaned in closer. His mouth brushed yours lightly at first, testing the waters before diving in deeper. His lips tasted of cigarette smoke, but nothing could describe the feeling of completion that filled your chest once they pressed against yours fully. Your fingers slipped up his shoulders and neck until you could bury them in the hair at the back of his head. He pulled you flush against his front, clasping his hands at your lower back. His lips moved slowly against yours, sighing every now and again when you tugged at his hair. Your whole body was tingling, waves upon waves of relief and happiness washed over your anxious heart as you could finally feel his hair underneath your fingertips, his skin against yours and his scent surrounding you. Cigarette smoke had never tasted so sweet, mixed in with something that was so distinctly Jeon Jungkook it made your soul flutter. He never tried to slip his tongue into your mouth, instead his kisses were chaste and gentle. It had been so long since you’d been kissed properly, but somehow your body seemed to naturally react to Jungkook’s touch. He held you close, his warmth seeping into your body and crawling up to your face, tinting your cheeks a shade of pink.

      His lips finally detached from yours, but he wasn’t ready to part with you before giving you a few more pecks. When he pulled away, your eyes finally cracked open, only to find him already smiling fondly down at you. By the time you separated, a significant amount of snow had piled up on top of his head and it made you giggle once you noticed. Jungkook quickly caught on to what you were laughing at and shook his messy hair abruptly, making the snow scatter around him and into your face. The cold snowflakes stinging your skin as they melted only made you laugh harder and Jungkook joined in with a soft chuckle of his own.

      “Man, you’re pretty when you laugh like that.” He mumbled more to himself, but you managed to catch it. You just stared into each other’s eyes with stupidly wide smiles, just feeling content and warm in the other’s embrace even as cold wind howled past your bodies.

      “Do you want to come watch a movie at my place? I’m not ready to let you go yet.” Jungkook asked suddenly and there was no hesitation in your mind when you agreed.

      Safely tucked under Jungkook’s arm and lost in sincere conversations, you walked the two miles over to his house, which you found out was only a few streets away from yours. Stepping over the threshold, you were immediately struck by the strong smell of timber and cigarette smoke. Jungkook slipped his boots off by the door and you followed suit. He helped you hang your damp coat up to dry and led you down the narrow hallway straight into his living room. His house was dark, walls painted in dull shades of beige and gray, hardwood floors a deep brown and old heavy wooden furniture filling out the space. The living room had a semi-modern disposition with only a countertop separating the kitchen from the main area. The place was also oddly cold, like it had been vacant for a while. Jungkook flicked a switch, flooding the room with pale yellow light that didn’t make it much easier to see what with how weak the lightbulb was. You stood awkwardly with your hands clasped together in your flimsy sweater and thin socks, enduring the cold and doing your best to disguise it. Jungkook seemed unbothered as he walked past you and into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

      “Well,” he started once he downed his glass “make yourself at home. I know it’s not much, but that’s what I have to offer.”

      You quickly shook your head because your own house was nothing spectacular either. You didn’t expect a university student like himself to be living in a mansion after all.

      “It’s fine, it’s just-” you hesitated when he looked up at you questioningly “I’m kinda cold?”

      Jungkook paused for a second, as if processing the information, you’d just presented him with and what it entailed. You just stared at him in silence, shifting from one foot to the other until it finally clicked for him.

      “Oh, I don’t have central heating.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly “But, I can get you something to wear?”

      You nodded gratefully and he disappeared down the dark hallway to presumably fetch you something warm from his bedroom. While you waited, you wondered what his room might look like. He didn’t look like the type of guy that owns a lot of stuff, judging by the minimal personal belongings scattered about his living room. He returned with a black hoodie, one you recognized he’d been wearing around campus a lot. You quickly pulled it over your chilled body once it was within your grasp. The garment was brushed on the inside, warm and cozy as it fell down to the middle of your thighs. You rolled the sleeves a couple of times to uncover your hands and Jungkook chuckled.

      “You look tiny in my clothes.” He said jokingly

      “Don’t flatter yourself. This thing is oversized even on you.” You shot right back, feeling playful. Jungkook let out a breathy laugh as his hand came to smooth over the top of your head.

      “What kind of movie are you feeling tonight?”

      “You’re the host, surprise me.” Your snarky replies seemed to break up the awkward atmosphere and ease the both of you.

      “Horror is far too cheesy for me to even suggest it…” he tapped his chin, pretending to ponder over his options “I guess we just have to watch Iron man.”

      You snorted unattractively at his suggestion

      “Iron man? Are you 10?”

      “Hey, it’s not my fault it’s the best movie ever!” He put his hands up in defense and grinned “Besides, have you even seen it?”

      “You got me there.”

      “Don’t knock it till you try it.” He seemed genuinely excited to watch it with you and it was contagious.

      “I’ll go ahead and download it on my laptop then.” He turned to go but then paused and turned back to you “I- uh, I have a roommate... Do you mind watching the movie in my room instead of the living room? I don’t want to disturb him when he comes home later.”

      You nodded with a smile. “Is it a problem if I hang around here for a little longer?” you asked, gesturing toward the kitchen

      “No, not at all. Do you need anything?”

      “I was wondering if I could fix myself a cup of tea?”

      “Sure, kettle’s on the stove.” With that he walked back into his room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

      You wandered into the kitchen. The cold hardwood floor matched the rest of the house and you thought about how impractical it was if something were to spill on it. As promised, an old aluminum kettle was sitting on the gas stove. You lifted the lid and peered inside, only to find some stagnant water at the bottom of it. You made a face, but washed it out nonetheless. Now filled with fresh tap water, you placed the kettle back on the stove. You fiddled with the switch a little bit to try and adjust the flame, but it was either too strong or too weak, so you just settled with the stronger one and left it at that. You propped your butt on the counter and started looking around. The kitchen was fairly clean, but clearly old and worn out. The fridge to your right was starting to turn yellow and the cupboards above you, albeit nicely crafted wooden pieces, were probably extremely squeaky. You looked around the items, placed on the counter. Next to the knife block and underneath the rack of hanging utensils you found a wooden box with the word ‘TEA’ engraved on the lid. While you looked through the various flavors, you absentmindedly noted that Jungkook didn’t own a microwave. Plucking out a bag of mint tea, you turned to face the hallway to his bedroom. You’d poured enough water for two cups of tea in the kettle, but you didn’t know what kind he preferred, nor where he kept all his cups.

      “Jungkook?” you called out as you settled by the stove once again.

      You heard some muffled footsteps before he poked his head out from around the corner.

      “I don’t know where the cups are.”

      Jungkook walked into the kitchen fully and you noticed that he had changed into a black shirt and some sweatpants. He walked straight up to you and reached for the shelf right above your head. The smell of clean laundry hit you once his chest was in your face. Until now you never noticed how much the cigarette smoke covered up his natural scent. It was clean and sweet, girly almost, with the slightest hint of cologne, but it somehow suited him. Only after he’d placed the cup on the counter did he notice how close he had gotten to you. You blinked up at him as he seemed surprised for a second. Without a word, he swooped down and captured your lips. It was your turn to be surprised, but it didn’t take long for you to melt into him once his hands circled your waist. This time his kisses weren’t as gentle. He was bolder, pushing a little harder against you and even sliding his tongue along the seam of your lips. You timidly parted them for him and he immediately went to work. The taste of cigarette smoke was persistent on his tongue, but it did nothing to dampen the satisfaction you felt as it slipped into your mouth. Jungkook hoisted you onto the counter behind you and lodged himself between your parted thighs. He was getting really daring now, breathing harder and letting his hands wander down to the swell of your hips and ass to pull you flush against his torso. Adrenaline was spiking high in both of your systems and you started to feel excitement buzzing in the pit of your stomach. His lips separated from yours to move into the junction of your neck. He yanked the collar of his hoodie down to expose more of your skin as he heatedly kissed up your throat. You couldn’t stop the gasp that slipped past your lips at his ministrations on your sensitive flesh. His body reacted to the noise and you felt his hips push a little harder against yours. Your legs squeezed his waist as your hands tried to find purchase in his hair. You could feel the shiver running down his spine every time your nails scraped against his scalp. He was focusing on a spot that made you whimper quietly, sucking and licking the skin there to make you release more of the sounds he’d become so fond of.

      Before you could get too carried away however the kettle beside you started whistling loudly, startling the both of you. Jungkook quickly pulled away from you and reached over to turn off the stove. The sound persisted for a few more seconds before dulling down to a quiet wheeze. He rested his hands on top of your thighs that were still hanging loosely on either side of his waist. The two of you stayed silent for a while longer, just locking eyes until Jungkook started to crack up.

      “What?”

      “Sorry about that.” He managed in between breaths and you had no idea if he was apologizing about laughing, or the kettle, or what, but you just joined him in cackling. He helped you hop off the counter and held your hands until you both calmed down. While you were busy catching your breath, he picked up your abandoned tea bag and dropped it into the mug he’d retrieved for you earlier. He grabbed the kettle from the stove and carefully poured the boiling water into the cup.

      “How do you like it?”

      You didn’t know if it was the aftermath of your make out session or something else he had in mind, but you completely misunderstood his implication. Your face flushed. “Huh?”

      “What do you like in your tea?” Jungkook chuckled.

      “Oh, um, I drink it plain.” You fiddled with your fingers awkwardly “Do you want any?”

      “Nah, I don’t like tea.” When you turned to look at the box on the counter, he clarified “That stuff’s my roommates. He won’t mind.”

      Jungkook handed you the hot steaming mug and motioned toward the hallway. You followed him closely on the way to his bedroom. The corridor was also fairly bland with only dull beige paint and three old wooden doors decorating the walls. Jungkook pulled open the first one on the left and you could feel the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke seeping out. His room was cold, dark and surprisingly empty. There was a double bed pushed in the corner of his bluish-gray walls, a small night stand under the window, an old desk and chair and a chest of drawers where you assumed he kept his belongings. The clothes he’d worn earlier were draped over his chair and the covers of his bed were disheveled, but apart from that there was nothing else to give the room some character. There were no pictures of family or friends, no posters or books, not even general everyday stuff a person might leave around his room. It honestly looked like he’d just moved in, which was unlikely. You stepped in and looked around even though there wasn’t much to see. Jungkook’s laptop was sitting on his desk, a chunky piece of electronic with all sorts of colorful blinking lights. You’d never seen one quite like this and to be honest it was the second most interesting thing in this house aside from its owner. Jungkook moved his chair at the foot of his bed and placed the laptop onto it, ready to stream the movie.

      “Hey, do you mind if I open the window?”

      “Is it the smoke?” Jungkook chimed up “Sorry about that too.”

      He walked over and pulled the blinds up. The window opened up with a creak to reveal the already snow-covered street. It wasn’t anything severe, but it had probably piled up about an inch high. In the patches of light, provided by the street lamps, you could see it was still snowing significantly, without showing any signs of stopping. Cold crisp air flooded the room, making you shiver gently and grip the hot mug between your palms tighter. A pair of built arms wrapped around your middle from behind. Jungkook’s warm chest pressed into you, compelling your body to relax into him.

      “I’m glad I get to spend this moment with you.” He rested his chin on your left shoulder and looked out the window too. “This is my favorite time of the year. I always get excited when it starts snowing for the first time.”

      “It’s lovely.” You confirmed fondly, feeling so domestic already. It felt like you’d known Jungkook for ages and this level of intimacy was only natural. His hands smoothed over your sides, enjoying the feeling of your curves underneath the material of his hoodie. He breathed in, inhaling your soft scent and basking in the satisfaction of finally having you in his arms. He never wanted to let go, and frankly, you didn’t either. His closeness alone was enough to wipe your mind of any worry. You pulled the mug up to your lips and sipped on the scolding beverage. Mint tea, a snowy night and Jeon Jungkook was easily becoming one of your favorite combinations. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your neck and moved away from you to close the window.

      “You might catch a cold, get in bed.” He said.

      While he pulled the blinds closed once again, you placed your mug on his night stand, next to his ash tray and crawled under his pale gray covers. They were recently washed and smelled pleasantly, but it felt kind of weird to be laying in a different person’s bed. Jungkook owned a single pillow so you settled to occupy only half of it. When he turned to look at you, you tapped the empty spot beside you with a sheepish smile.

      “Damn, I’d kill to have you waiting for me in bed like that every night.” He grinned, making your heart skip. While he went to turn on the movie, you thought that you, in fact, would also love to have him in bed with you every night. As the opening credits started rolling, Jungkook scooted closed and wrapped his arms around you. Your own arm draped over his stomach as you settled into the blissful comfort of his warmth and affection.

      About forty minutes into the movie you couldn’t resist his steady heartbeat lulling you into the most peaceful and fulfilling slumber you’d had in months. The nearly full mug of mint tea started growing cold on the night stand, forgotten.

Note: It’s about damn time I posted... I’m still having trouble with my computer, but I somehow managed.

[slasherbeachbitch]

Road Trip

The sweltering heat that purveyed your room was not diminished by your piddly electric fan that shook and stuttered occasionally. It was the last day of the semester and you were spending some time by yourself in your room, while your roommate was planning a "surprise" for you.

As much as you loved Deliah, you were not excited as she was for her surprises. Most of which were half thought out, hair-brained schemes, that would eventually get the two of you in trouble one day. Though by now you should be fine with that and fully expect this type of stuff. You'd known each other for years.

From middle school to the present day, you two were together through thick and thin, her parents practically adopting you after some family troubles that were going on in your life. Yes, you two were as thick as thieves. That didn't mean you wanted to go to jail like one though.

Okay, so maybe you were being a little dramatic, but the last great idea that she convinced you to join her on landed you two behind a Krispy Kreme dumpster watching a drug deal happen. You will never help her try to adopt a dog EVER again.

A shuffle and a burst of movement from your door as it was busted down caught your attention instead of the boring hotdog with sunglasses statue that was being oversold on the shopping channel, and to Deliah. Her glasses were skewed over the bridge of her nose, almost about to fall on the floor if she wasn't careful, and dragging behind her a chart.

Ooh boy, this was going to be wild.

She wiped off her dark brow and let out a breath before clapping her hands and saying, "Now you're probably wondering why I've brought you all here today..."

"Dee, I'm literally the only one here, and this is my room." You sighed out and preemptively held your head in your hands. You were gonna need an aspirin after this, you could just feel it.

"Ahem, I am trying to give my presentation here a dramatic flair." She frowned and pushed her glasses onto her nose once more, straightening into a professional posture. She was really trying to sell you on this one. You sighed once more and waited patiently for her to begin.

"Now," She began after a fake cough, "You and I have both wanted to go on a road trip for years, right?"

You nodded.

"And we both love weird shit, right?"

"Where are you going with this?"

She shushed you and then continued, "Well strap your ass into an astronaut chair and let me take you on the weirdest, wildest fucking ride you'll ever experience. Starting all the way here in our great state of Louisianna and ending in Oregon by the end of it!"

You nodded once again, "Alright you got me, I'm interested."

With that, she explained in great depth your "Wacky College Weirdness Trip".(You guys are working on the name because that is not good.)

Now granted, it was still a bad idea, I mean who knows what could happen to the two of you, and yet the thought of going to all of the strangest places in America was just too good to pass up. You always jumped at an opportunity to experience something new. Without your overeagerness for change and excitement, you wouldn't be where you were now.

A long night of packing, pizza, and a restless slumber lead to a groggy heated morning. The sun was already almost in the middle of the sky when you finally left, tiny clouds lazily scuttling along as you two sped along the highway. At around three, you guys stopped for lunch at a small vintage looking diner where you discussed the first place you were heading to.

You snagged some pancakes and a small cup of orange juice, while Dee just got a plain old cup of coffee. Your waitress came by and soon both of you were sipping on your respective drinks.

"So we're going to Wilmington? What kind of name is that?" Your fingers traced the map and tapped on the little dot with the odd name and a red circle traced around it.

Dee shrugged, "Beats me, all I know is that it's supposed to be some haunted town."

You frowned and your plate was set down before you before a rather haughty voice spoke up. "Ugh, Wilmington? That place is a total rip-off."

Looking up, your waitress seemed to be a short Latina girl in her late teens, makeup looking expertly done and plush red lips holding a slightly amused smirk on them. Her very old looking wrinkled yellow and white checkered uniform had a scratched nametag reading Eva on her breast.

"If you really want to check out a ghost-town, I know a much better place."

Deliah quirked her eyebrow curiously like the back of a threatened cat. "Really? Pray, tell what it is?"

Oh god, she was using her weird Shakespeare language. Curse her and her English classes.

"Oh, it's a forgotten town little ways down the highway. Turn left at the big sign saying, Southerland and keep going. You'll get there eventually."

"How will we know?" You chirped up.

"From what I remember there's a little sign that says something about a wax museum. I went there when I was really young, creepy place."

A ding came from a small window that connected the kitchen to the front, right behind a counter with all sorts of different drinks and condiments. A burly man with graying hair popped his head out, "Eva, back to work."

Eva sighed before saying, "Back to work I guess. Well, enjoy your meal."

When she walked away, the two of you looked at each, clearly, you both were thinking the same thing.

"We should totally go!" Deliah practically squealed in excitement.

"We should totally not go!" You shot at the same time.

Well, shit.

"What do you mean we should not go? This is a great idea. Plus I've never been to a wax museum, you have." She held an indignant scowl on her face, hair hanging in strands in front of her face.

"Yeah, and it wasn't that fun. I just don't get a good feeling from this." You sternly held your stance, a little peeved while you shoved your flapjacks into your gob.

"But please can we go? For like five minutes and then we can leave and never come back." She looked at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes she could muster, putting on her best performance. You looked at her for a good, long minute before giving in.

"Fine, five minutes and that's it."

She pumped her fist in the air and chugged her coffee, badgering you to finish your food fast. When you were done you left a five-dollar tip and hopped into your ride.

A gnawing feeling was making your gut tumble around in your body, you really didn't trust this.

[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you)

Sharky Boshaw/John Seed, Hurk Drubman Jr., Jacob Seed

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

@finefeatheredfarcryplayer​

As someone that loves your Wholesome Shorts, I was excited to get you here, and to also have a chance to tackle a Sharky/John idea that’s a hell of a lot longer than intended, and sort of on the wholesome side itself (minus the NSFW parts towards the end, but close enough). So, if this puts a smile on your face at any point? Mission accomplished. Happy holidays/Happy New Year, and I hope you enjoy it!

Also, many thanks to those that helped beta read this, because without any of you this giant thing would’ve been completely incomprehensible otherwise.

Tags: Sharky Boshaw/John Seed, Sharky Boshaw, John Seed, nsfw, slow burn, no cult AU, tw: abuse mention

_______________

Hurk was his bro. His blood. One hell of a stand up guy, and the person Sharky knew would have his back no matter what.

The one he could depend on no matter what, for damn near anything, and the only one right now that he could say to, with his whole heart, “I love you, man, but you can piss up a fucking rope” for getting him into his mess to begin with.

And okay, maybe he was being a bit harsh about it. And maybe he’d wanted the excuse to do it to begin with, but Hurk had dangled the opportunity so perfectly in front of him. Framed it so beautifully, there was no way he was going to say no to it, no matter what.

Especially not with both drinks and two smoking hot women involved. He’d hit a real dry spell, and the temptation to get lucky hit hard.

So, when beers at the Spread Eagle turned into beers down by the river, Sharky had agreed immediately. And when beers at the river turned into the possibility of beers on the river, he’d agreed to that too.

But he didn’t have a boat. Hurk didn’t either.

Maybe they could’ve winged it by borrowing one from the Marina. They would’ve been skinned alive the next morning after his aunt found out about it, but after mulling it over for a few, Hurk had a better idea.

In his words, a better, sexier idea. Cause nothing said sexy like a little speedboat ride and some roguish repatriation. Also Hurk’s words, though Sharky was sure on some level that wasn’t supposed to be pronounced like that either.

John had a boat.

John Seed had both a boat and a boathouse. Rich assholes like that always wanted to flash their cash in the most high-profile ways possible, and for whatever reason having his own personal goddamn plane wasn’t enough. He had to have a boat too.

Surely he wouldn’t miss it for a night. And Hurk’s promise to slip him two-hundred bucks on top of that? Really just made the idea all the sweeter.

Things sped up after that. Blurred and blended into the kinds of things he’d see in an action movie, what with him being the sexy hero going behind enemy lines as a means of infiltrating it – and he’d even streaked some mud across his face to seal it.

But somewhere between snagging the fancy speedboat, riding it out, and getting not one but two kisses of gratitude, he’d let himself get sloppy. And on the way back afterwards, with more beers under his belt, and a decent hard on from some over the clothes action, he’d misjudged a few things.

Not the least of which involved just how close of a fit it was to park and settle the boat. It was a square peg meant for a square hole, but he couldn’t see it that way. Not right now, especially not while belting out words to what he’d think a collab between ABBA and the Bee Gees would sound like.

That’s where things blurred again. Grew unclear and muddied as he tried to keep the boat steady. His head pounded as he misjudged the distance - or was it speed? Both were likely - of his approach, as he leapt into action again, this time wondering if his call to Willis his way out was the right one.

Cold water rushed up to meet him, knocking sense into him just long enough to start paddling, but he bobbed down low. Felt things go black, as like an idiot he gulped down a lung and a half full of water as he fought against it.

That’s when he felt hands grab him. A force dragging him up and out of the cold only for the ground to rush up and smack him in the face. 

Hacking it out, he blinked down at the pebbles underneath his hands, his face all but numb at this point as water continued to dribble out of his mouth. That had been close. All too close, he’d realized, still sloshed, but aware enough of the person crouching next to him.

So, he babbled out what he hoped was thanks. Followed it up with more thanks after that, and when he flipped over to maybe even throw a hug or a hearty handshake their way, he froze.

Because he wasn’t ready for the kind of cold fury waiting for him. He also wasn’t ready for John Seed to be the one wearing it either; the kind that he was sure meant he was about to be murdered on the spot.

In that moment, not even two-hundred dollars richer for it, he knew he’d fucked up, but as to how much? He couldn’t say. That was for the morning to tell him, provided he’d make it there.

And right now his odds weren’t looking all that great.

—

Pounding. Endless pounding went off, shaking him out of the comfortable space he’d settled into.

The sound echoed again, making him shift around to muffle it. Pulling the blanket around him, he sighed at the silence only to tense when it was broken again.

“Motherfucking balls, man,” Sharky groaned.

So, he wasn’t dead, just felt like it. That he wasn’t, was a relief as he pried his eyes open. The pulsing, pounding pressure building in his head, not so much.  Crawling over to the bed’s edge, he pushed himself up and nearly tumbled to the floor.

Knocking. That’s what the sound was.

Leaving his room, he dragged his feet as he walked over to the door, and jumped when his foot came into contact with something ice cold. Not bothering to check, he shook it off, swearing loudly only to notice it was a pair of jeans. Damp, and just as wet as the hoodie draped over the kitchen table.

When had he- Pointing at it, then at the jeans, he scratched at his head as he stood in the kitchen. Skinny dipping gone wrong, maybe? Gone right? He’d have company if that were the case, but it didn’t stop him from hoping.

He raised an eyebrow, only to start when the knocking began again. “Hold your fucking horses! Seriously, I’m coming.”

Dragging on a nearby pair of pants, he popped his head up in front of the peephole and took a look.

It was John. 

John Seed.

That couldn’t have been right. He rubbed at his eyes and peered through again. “The fuck?”

Nope, John was still there, arms crossed as he waited, and he checked his watch before going for the door. Knocking with a heavy hand, the door was almost rattling, and Sharky stepped back.

Something was up. Something that he couldn’t remember right off the bat, and if it put John of all people on his doorstep, it had to be serious.

But he hadn’t pissed off anyone bad enough to put a lawyer on his porch. Or had he? Maybe the F.A.N.G. Center was finally sick of taking his calls and decided to slap him for it. Or hell, his Moonflower disco party never had that many admirers. That could’ve gone south too.

Not remembering sucked, but it was a Tuesday. Probably found a way to piss off somebody in the county without even trying that much.

Yanking the door open, he regarded the man waiting on the other side with a bleary look. It was bright outside, the clear blue of the sky hurting his eyes as he blinked against it, and felt his headache start to pulse as he narrowed his eyes into a squint.

“Charlemagne Victor Boshaw.” The smile John wore was cold as he stared him down. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

He scratched his head, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he waited for John to continue. When he didn’t and actually seeming to want some kind of feedback from him, he grunted out a short, “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Well, I was afraid of that. Considering how impaired you were late last night, and considering the great lengths I had to go to keep you from drowning on my property, it seems it’s up to me to enlighten you on what exactly happened.”

Drowning?

He did remember water. Coughing out enough to make him feel a little sick on recalling it. The part before that, when he was whooping it up, and kissing the hell out of his date, was a lot nicer to focus on and he let his eyes slip shut as he leaned against the doorframe.

Yeah, that was much better. Better than the light searing into his eyes, and better than the asshole camped out on his doorstep.

“Boshaw.”

He cracked open an eye. Squinted right at John’s pinched, irritated face, and considered closing the door on him. “What?”

“You don’t understand the true extent of any of this, do you?”

“Nah, that’s what the whole enlightening thing’s for. Shit, Johnson, where the hell have you been?” he threw out, hating how the pounding in his head was only intensifying. “So if you could get the hell on with it, I could go back to spending my day how I want to. In bed, curled up and doing nothing, not out here listening to you tell me how I…” Sharky let the words trail off. “How I what now?”

“How you owe me,” John hissed, baring his teeth as the temperature in his tone dropped ten degrees and counting. “You. Owe. Me. For a boat. For a boathouse, and for an assortment of damages all tying back to your little alcohol-soaked ride through my property.” 

Saying each word through clenched teeth, John paused, drew in a breath through his nose as he closed his eyes, then settled back into the same smile he’d initially greeted him with. “Then when caught, you panicked, confessed, and forged an agreement with me to fix it. Is that ringing any bells now?”

“Look, look, look, I get it. This looks bad, right?” Sharky held up his hands, still coughing out leftover traces of water, and tried backing away from him. “Just let me say my piece, okay? Let me say it, and get it out there, and we can go back to-“

“Back to what?” John asked, his voice smooth as he stayed on him. “Back to the smoke? The fire? The wreck I bothered to drag you out of?”

“Yeah, yeah, all of that.”

“Oh, good. Because I’m still waiting. Still wondering why of all things, you haven’t given me a single reason at all not to do what anyone else would’ve already done in my position. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Tell me.”

“I, uh, I don’t know about-“

He snarled as he crossed the distance between them. “Tell me!”

Sharky paled.

Some of it was coming back in batches, none of it painting a good picture at all. And the longer he focused in on that period of time, the more he felt inclined to drop everything and book it towards the woods. At least then he’d have some kind of a fighting chance. John didn’t look like a runner, but if he did head after him he’d make sure to wing him with a branch or two along the way.

He wet his lips, and let out a long breath. “Okay, so say I did.”

“You did.”

“Okay, so…say I did all of it.”

“You did!” John repeated, his voice rising. “How can I make this any clearer to you? We are here to talk recompense. What you rightfully owe me for, and more importantly, what you’ve promised given the alternative. Or should I repeat myself, yet again, but this time using language that you’re guaranteed to understand?”

Now, Sharky had tried to ignore it before. Maybe even give him the benefit of the doubt, but he’d put up with his fair share of people talking down to him like an idiot, and like hell was John going to get in a shot as well.

“Yo, I was trying to be civil here. Civil and about as respectful as I can get seeing as I’m here, wearing actual pants, and listening to you spouting nothing but shit at me. And I get it! Something was broken that shouldn’t have been taken to begin with, but you’re talking deals that I don’t remember agreeing to, and I don’t like being told I’m a fucking moron on top of that!”

“Fine.” John pursed his lips, losing some of his anger, but not all of it. “You’ve made your point, and…maybe I did speak out of line.”

”You did. No maybes there, dude.”

“But that still doesn’t settle any of the business between us. So, here’s my offer. What I outlined to you last night, and to which you enthusiastically agreed to.”

Sharky bit back the knee-jerk response that he wanted to give, and crossed his arms. “So? Spit it out.”

“You will repair it. Rebuild the damaged boathouse with materials I will supply you with, and under my supervision. This will ensure that the work will be completed, done to my standards and specifications, and to also ensure no further damage will be done.”

“Your standards?”

“That’s correct,” John said, with a glint in his eye. “If it’s not to the quality I ask for, you will tear it down and start over. From scratch.”

“Hey, now. You back it the fuck up, cause last time I checked you’re not the fucking boss of me.”

“On the contrary. Yes, I am,” John replied, holding up his cell phone. “And If you don’t want any of this getting back to the local authorities, you will take this deal. Now listen closely, because there will be no second offer, and I’m already being generous.”

Keeping as calm as he possibly could, the voice on the phone outlined this in painstaking detail. Too much detail for a drunk man to take in and consider, but just enough for it to be played back to him while sober.

Including the last detail. One that had John’s expression settle into that of pure satisfaction.

“And you agree to do this? To-“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’ll do it. Whatever you want, building this shit up, building another big-ass boat to cart both you and your bullshit to fucking Aruba, I’ll do it. Just don’t send me to jail, man. Me and the po-po just don’t mix, and…shit, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything,” John repeated, ending the recording. “And looking at the damages done, the cost to avoid a sentence can be upwards of fifty-thousand dollars. That’s no small fee to have to shoulder, and unless you have that to give me, I think you’re better off taking this.”

He was fucked. Fucked beyond question, all because he’d had the piss-poor sense to believe Hurk’s boast that Sharky could commit Grand Theft Boat while sloshed just past his maximum.

Leading to the current dilemma.

Not wanting to go to jail was always at the top of his list. So was having the ability to light shit on fire. Going to jail interfered with both of those things directly, and as much as he could fight or run from it, John had two big things going for him.

One, he was a lawyer.

Two, he had money.

If he wanted to sink him, he’d send him straight down to the bottom of the ocean’s largest, deepest trench without any hesitation.  

Clenching his teeth, then unclenching them, the smile he gave him was more of a grimace. “Uh, so…about that whole helping shit.”

“Let’s establish some ground rules, shall we?”

He raised his chin as he gestured towards the door, and Sharky groaned. Stepping to the side to let him in, John stalked on past, and he nearly fell off the front step.

He was going to need a cigarette. 

Lots of them.

—

“This should be simple. Straightforward,” John told him as Sharky sat across from him with a cigarette and a roaring headache.

He was to be on the property two times a week.

Each time he would text him in advance making sure that John was available first, then once the time was agreed on, would expect him there promptly.

No work would be done alone. He would pick John up, then take him down to the boathouse to supervise. From there, he would work – some bare minimum that John rattled off, and he half-tuned out – and would drive John back up before heading out for the day.

And then would repeat it again, and again, and again until John was satisfied.

“So, as I said, simple. Easy enough for anyone to follow,” John stated, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

Already on cigarette number two, Sharky let his head sink into his hand. Passed on enough of a response to satisfy John for now, and had to agree to an actual starting date to even get him out of the door.

He was on cigarette number five when he called up Hurk. Spent a good ten minutes trying to get some kind of answers out of him about the rest of the night while also yelling about the shit he’d royally stepped in by messing with John to begin with.

But Hurk talked him down. Helped him to see this for what it was.

One, not a jail sentence. He could still get out of this, even if it looked like John had all but boxed him into doing a shit-ton of labor for free.

Two, he’d done enough odd jobs to be able to swing this. Had built and burnt down a million sheds in his lifetime, so what was building another one going to hurt?

And three, if all else failed, Hurk was set and ready to see about lighting up another part of John’s place just to give him a means of escape. What was a bro if not the kind ready to throw himself into the line of danger so his cousin could exit stage left?

He could give him that. Even if more fire wasn’t the solution to the problem for once. Much as he needed it, loved it, it wasn’t going to get him out of this.

Sighing heavily, he let Hurk go and went back to bed.

The next day, however, he pulled his shit together and readied himself for what was going to be the beginning of a very long and painful process.

John’s specific list of guidelines chafed, bad, like a pair of jeans that were just the wrong side of too tight, but he couldn’t take them off or return them. He just had to deal, and hope that sitting down or bending over wouldn’t lead to the kind of blowout he’d get run out or yelled at over.

So, he played by the rules. Hated every second of it as he jabbed at his phone and gave John the shortest messages he could manage. Then picked him up and tried to grin and bear it as John tapped at his watch while giving his ride the hairy eyeball, and Sharky proceeded to take them both down to the boathouse.

Seeing it during the day painted the whole thing in a different light. From what he’d relayed to Hurk in a delirious call the night of the accident there had been a whole hell of a lot of smoke and fire. Boatloads - pun intended - as he took in the charred shell of the building.

Guess that extra fuel Hurk told him he’d jacked but didn’t toss did more harm than good. Who knew what he’d planned on using it for, but he was lucky he hadn’t been toast himself.

That did mean his work was cut out for him, however. Tearing the whole thing down and rebuilding it was going to be a pain, and John guided him over to the picnic table nearby to go over the blueprints he’d brought from his house.

Spread out, he followed the dimensions outlined, and where he would need to start once the foundation was set. It didn’t seem that complicated. Yeah, it was going to be intense, but wouldn’t be impossible.

Now, his version of things allowed for some leeway. That would help to speed things up along the way, but that was where John came in. He said that there would be no ‘cutting corners’ and ‘eyeballing it’ like he was sure Sharky might do.

“This requires care. Precision. Delicacy.”

John kept on going, rattling off a few more things he was in need of here, and Sharky barely held off from pretending to jerk off in the middle of it. But John eventually cut him loose, telling him to get a feel for the area, and pointed him towards the boathouse.

It had been calling to him, in a way, and he let curiosity finally guide him there.

Walking inside, Sharky let out a low whistle.

He’d done a real number on it. Sidestepping the remains of the support beam overhead, he peeked up at the blue sky above him, and took in the blackened wood and ruined equipment. Trying to play guess who with the burned odds and ends was looking to be a game for another day, but while some parts of the building were well past trashed, other items were surprisingly okay.

Like the photographs hanging on the walls.

Both focused on nature – and he liked nature shit; skulls, antlers, pictures, the whole nine yards – but the fish on display didn’t look like they’d been caught. Not by John, or by any of his family, and they felt more out of place than anything else.

At least that’s what he thought until he turned, and saw it. Saw the big, beautiful, borderline majestic fish hanging on the wall, and burst out laughing.

He was still laughing when John finally joined him. “What could be so-“ John’s voice trailed off, and the resigned groan that followed only made him laugh harder.

Swiping at his eyes to wipe the tears away, Sharky framed the singing fish with his hands. “Big Mouth Billy is hanging right on your wall. Here. On your wall.”

“And?”

“And? Dude, that’s like the best shit ever! I haven’t seen one of these since I was like this tall,” Sharky said, holding his hand to his knee. “Like, I thought they’d stopped selling them.”

“They should’ve.”

“But they didn’t, and that’s pretty damn great if I may say so myself. You’ve gotta tell me who gave you this to begin with. Broseph?”

John sighed, his mouth twisting as he remained silent.

“Ol’ Jake-n-bake then? Dude’s pretty serious, but maybe he gave you this to be nice. Or funny. Shit, maybe both.”

“You had it right the first time,” he admitted, eyeing first him, then it with distaste.

Joseph Seed’s doing? The thought of that made a wide grin break out on his face. “Well, shit. Guess I need to thank him then. Otherwise, I think it’d get pretty lonely out here.”

“What?”

“Well, you’re not gonna sit there and talk my ear off the whole time, so I was thinking I’d need to start talking to myself just to make shit interesting, but Bill here’ll be a fucking hoot once you get him started.”

The offended look that crossed John’s face shifted straight to horror when Sharky waved his hand in front of the fish’s sensor. To his delight, it sprang to life, singing enthusiastically, and when Sharky joined in, John visibly clenched his teeth.

“Still works too! Come on, it’s catchy.”

Picking up on the tune only to mangle it further, John kept on staring at him the entire time. Through one full cycle of it as Sharky snapped his fingers, through a few of his claps, and through at least one hop.

Still, nothing. “Seriously? Feeling none of the magic of that little guy?” Sharky shook his head, giving him a disappointed glance. “Shit, better go one more round to be sure. Maybe that’ll help, and you can join in whenever you like.”

John turned on his heel and promptly left.

Eyeing the bass, he gave one of its fins a small fistbump, only to nearly knock it off of the wall.

Maybe he’d be able to get through this after all.

—

It took two and a half days to tear the old boathouse down.

John hadn’t lied when he mentioned wanting him to get in there and take it apart piece by piece, and hovered over him the entire time.

The whole monitoring bit was easily the part that annoyed him the most. Like he was waiting for him to screw up. To somehow find a way to take the already burnt building and set it on fire again through force of will alone. Which, while badass, was well out of his means. All that wishing and praying to monkey Jesus aside.

But that didn’t stop John from acting like he had the ability. Riding him further during smoke breaks, or keep him from barking order after order from the sidelines.

Every other word out of his mouth was a correction. To tell him to go back to read the blueprints again. To check his measurements. To put out that cigarette, pry out that misplaced nail, and to use some of that delicacy he kept on going back to, making Sharky’s eyes want to roll back into his head.

And music? The one time he’d tried to bring any levity to the situation with the soothing sounds of disco, John put an end to it immediately. Really just made it clear how much of a drag he wanted to be, and only wanted to push the point home.

Seeing as John was some big-shot lawyer, he really expected him to have more to do than nitpick and lord this whole thing over him. Like he’d stick around for a few weeks, use the time to get off on whatever power trip he was having over this, and then go back to bugging the department, the local businesses, Nick, shit, anyone.

But John Seed was also petty as fuck.

Local gossip hadn’t painted the guy as a kind or forgiving figure, and while the Seeds as a whole were alright at best and fucking weird at worst, over the past couple of years John had picked up a rep as a colossal asshole all on his own.

Tickets? Contested. Special orders down at the store or for parts? Made with specific instructions that needed to be followed to the letter? He’d demand and get his money back, damning everyone with the fine print others would skim over.

Hell, Sid, one of the guys that worked down at the cattle ranch, had traded paint with him once. He’d done so while stopping at the general store, and hadn’t paid much mind to the fancy car parked in the lot, getting just close enough to leave a small scuff on the rear bumper.

In those cases a person would trade numbers, or see what they could buff off before moving on, cause insurance claims were a pain in the ass, and half of the cars in the county were a little late on renewing registrations anyway. Shit, he was coming up on a year, and hoping to see how much longer he could go before any of the Deps cottoned on to it.

But no, the minute John caught on, Sid recalled the glint he got in his eye. Then told him he’d slap him with the largest fine possible for both the damage and the late reg.  All over trading paint. Not major damage, not even a busted tire.

Just paint.

Sid was still spitting mad about it, months after the fact.

He’d even pulled a fast one when it came to setting up big bro Joe’s compound. Digging up some obscure property laws all but guaranteeing the land could be sold to them.

No, no one earned the title of mega-dick by being sweet and accommodating. His bro had smoothed over a lot of ruffled feathers by being pretty okay after that, even with all of the converts chilling the fuck out on his property, but John was still John.

And now he personally had that shit to deal with. Today, two days from now, and who knew how many weeks or months after that.

So much for those chicks wanting and keeping his number too. They’d placed it into his phone on the way back to the launch, but when he’d tried to call them back the other day he got no answer. Ghosted him like it was nothing, and he guessed he deserved that.

What with getting himself caught and left to doing whatever the hell John wanted for as long as John wanted.

“As per our agreement,” John would remind him, whenever he felt the point needed pushing.

And he pushed.

Whenever Sharky would drop something, whenever he let his feet drag, whenever he cut something and John was ready to whip out his tape measure.

He pushed, and Sharky shot another prayer up to monkey Jesus, hoping that maybe this would be the day to go Human Torch on the situation. Or at the very least a little Cyclops.

Not today, but he’d try again tomorrow.

But on the days when Sharky was working, it wasn’t always just the two of them. He’d full on expected this whole thing to go on in its own little pocket, with Hurk eventually crashing the party due to a need to bust him out or worse.

The day that Joseph first showed up stood out, for one.  

Joseph Seed was kind of like Pastor Jerome. Not his first pick to hang out with, considering they were both on opposite sides here. Of the whole preaching and managing earthly temptations, while not super indulging in the kind of shit that he knew he wanted in his life, period.

It came with the territory, being religious leaders and all that, but when Joseph rolled in to the county, he’d brought his people with him.

And they were an interesting bunch. The People of Eden’s Gate, some kind of holistic commune where it was pretty hunky dory roughly ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent was wondering just what to do about the men and women that wanted the simple life. Living humbly while offering help wherever needed.

While their hearts were in the right place, it was pretty boring stuff otherwise, Sharky decided. He’d even considered joining up for the hell of it only until Hurk reminded him that there wasn’t much fucking to be found there. Pretty women, sure, but the kind more focused on spirituality, and less on how many ways they could Clutch Nixon-ify their daily lives.

But Joseph on his own was a different story.

Watching John go from calmly sipping his drink, doubling-down on just how refreshing it was when Sharky happened to push the wheelbarrow past him, to spitting half of it out when Joseph materialized next to him was fucking priceless.

Greeting him warmly, Joseph pulled a sputtering John into a kind-of half-hug gesture, but John’s cool had already been lost, and in front of his entourage too.

Joe’s wife was with him, plus kiddo number one of a baker’s dozen, carrying them up and on her hip as they talked. With them was also a woman dressed in the modest clothes the Peggies stuck to. She wasn’t trying to stand out, but he didn’t need sharp eyes to see how damn pretty she was.

It had to have been a brother thing, Sharky gathered. Embarrassing the shit out of younger siblings seemed almost natural to Joseph, and it might’ve been petty of him too, but watching John try to get his shit back in line in front of all of them was like hitting the jackpot.

So, Sharky kept on working, sneaking looks over at the group every now and then, and at one point gave an awkward wave back whenever they tried acknowledging him. But whenever John glanced his way, Sharky didn’t hide his shit-eating grin. No, it stayed put for the rest of the day.

The next time Joseph came over, however, he didn’t stop by just to say hi.  He approached  Sharky, ignoring John’s loud protests, and insisted on helping.

He’d get water, and help with any items that needed anchoring, stepping in whenever it looked like Sharky needed another hand. It was the most contact he’d had with the guy outside of the times he’d tried preaching at the Eagle, and outside of that? He was actually pretty okay to be around.

Well, he personally didn’t have a problem with Joe, at least. John’s irritation skyrocketed with every suggestion, especially when Joe did the impossible. Told him that with a three-person job, you needed three people, and John? John was capable.

“You sure are,” Sharky added, giving him a wicked grin, and John looked mad enough to spit. 

But he didn’t say no. Didn’t even try, or attempt it.

Did more than his fair share under the loving supervision of his older bro, and come nightfall, Sharky realized he’d had a damn good day. It was the lightest he’d felt in weeks, and wasn’t about to turn that down. Not when it helped him jump back into things with some extra pep, and the progress was a boost too.

With the actual frame up and the panels and exterior being added piece by piece, Sharky was starting to feel pretty accomplished. Proud even, because he built this. Yeah, he was being needled at every step of it, but he used his own two hands to get this set up, no one else’s, and at the end of the day could actually see more of this coming together.

If he kept this up, he’d also have some extra skills to add to his repertoire. Might even get a chance to twist Hurk’s arm into trying out that whole ‘building and flipping’ thing that seemed to be hot at the moment, provided he wasn’t here for the next ten years.

But goals. He had goals to build to and something to show for it, and it was pretty damn nice in the grand scheme of things.

Today, however, John had a guest again. The same Peggie woman as before, holding a basket, flanked by a few other converts.

Full on expecting to see Joe with her, Sharky wondered if he was waiting out in the woods again. Hell, even John was checking the path back up to his house, looking past her every now and then to see if he’d catch him.

But as the minutes ticked by, and Sharky kept on working, nothing happened. And long after the others had traveled back up towards the house, the two kept on talking, having what seemed to be a hell of a time going off of the signals they were giving off.

Smiling, laughing. Facing each other directly as they spoke, Sharky had John’s back to him almost completely, which had his eyebrows climbing up.

And judging by the way she was reacting to John in turn, he had to have been turning on the charm. Smiling shyly, twirling her hair around her finger, hell, he’d put money on her being a two-word question away from dropping everything to get a piece of that.

It was annoying as fuck, really. Dry spell or not, watching John pull it off with minimal effort sucked.

Sure, he had a lot of things working for him. The guy was loaded, for one. Had more than enough money to net himself a fancy car, his large-ass ranch, and a plane. He’d also had a boat up until Sharky had wrecked it, but that was beside the point. Man had more money than sense, and worked the slick lawyer angle for all it was worth. He’d listened in on enough convos to know just how many women in the county dug it. Shit, men too.

Plus the whole property on the water was a real panty dropper. At least going off of what his Auntie had said shortly after John had first bought it, gossiping with Sharky about the costs and expenses that came with it.

Then promptly turned the talk on its head by launching directly into talking about John’s ass instead. His drink hadn’t stayed in his mouth for long, and she’d dropped her forlorn sighing long enough to tell him not to stain the carpet.

That he had to hear and think about John’s ass at all wasn’t fucking fair, especially since he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t that much of a draw to begin with. He’d checked.

Whenever his back was turned, he’d sneak a look to see what the deal was only to be disappointed. Better asses were walking around Hope County right this moment, his included, but good luck trying to argue that with her. Or even get three words in edgewise before wanting to slap some sense into himself.

Besides, John’s eyes were better. Hands down, Sharky knew they’d been his ticket to pound town on more than one occasion, needing only to flash them and say a few fancy words to seal any kind of deal.

Dropping the wood onto the ground, he crouched down low. Stared at the wood grain of the plank to clear his mind a little before shifting his attention back towards John.

Shit, were they still talking?

He rolled his eyes. Whatever John was saying couldn’t have been that good, and any joke? Nowhere near funny enough to get a giggle like that.

At that time, John turned, giving him a look over his shoulder as Sharky became well aware of two sets of eyes on him. The woman for one, and the pretty boy lawyer that had been eating up every last shred of her attention until now.

A cross between smug and expectant, John gestured towards him.

Well?

Sharky knew three ways to tell someone to get fucked, but picked the least subtle one just in case.

Shocked for a second, John closed his mouth. But soon after, he pressed a hand to his chest, looking hurt. It was pretty convincing, making Sharky feel for a moment that he’d done something shitty like kicked a puppy.

Shame it didn’t reach his eyes. Or match the sharp smile that crept in.

“Smug-ass, smirking fuckface,” Sharky muttered, throwing the wooden plank to the side.

But not even that stuck around either. No, he flashed his pearly whites at the woman with him too, making her melt right in front of them.

Salt in the motherfucking wound. That’s what it all was, but lucky for him he only had a few more hours left to go. Then he could go home, get in a kickass shower and see what Hurk was doing.

Standing up, he wiped his face down with his handkerchief. If this had been anytime during the summer he would’ve been dying, but at least the weather was working in his favor. The breeze took the edge off just enough, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds to soak it all in.

“Oh, Charlemagne?”

Grating right on his ears, the pitch John used never failed to make him want to grind his teeth together. That, and saying his name. Kept on doing that well after being told he could call him Sharky. Shit, even his grandma used it sparingly.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing over there-“ John froze, and all smugness vanished.

That put him on edge. “Yo, you wanna expand on that, amigo?”

Slowly turning around, Sharky caught the small creature on the ground and felt every hair on him stand on end. Black and white, and assuming the posture any pissed off animal would, it stood tall for its small size with its tail up, ready and aiming right at him.

Skunks, though, had never liked him. Guess he’d earned that after the whole kissing one bit. So, staring down what he was sure had to be some distant relative out for revenge, he did what came naturally.

Yelled. Loudly, and might’ve sealed his fate right then and there.

Hit, but not in the eyes – thank Hurk’s monkey Jesus for that – he sprinted down towards the river and dove right in.

Grabbing his cap, he kept it in hand as he bobbed back up to the surface. The smell hit as he gulped down air, and he furiously paddled away from the shore when he realized he’d been followed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

This was fucking bonkers, and it was only getting worse.

Could skunks swim? Did they have a sense for it, or was he getting played by the only one able to? Was this the moment some poor guy was going to have to act out in the movie about his life? Swimming out, smelling to high heaven as a rich asshole laughed it up from the shore?

Fuck, he hoped to hell not, cause he’d lived an okay life up ‘til now. And having that be the moment he’d be known for immortalized up on the silver screen was just lousy at best.

Looking back, he watched as the skunk gave him the evil eye for a minute, pacing back and forth as it thought about shooting at him again. Little fucker wasn’t done yet, but couldn’t fire another round off from where it was.  

John on the other hand, was watching the whole thing develop from a distance. He hadn’t taken off, but wasn’t laughing like he thought he would either. If anything, his gaze was sharp as he aimed it over at the skunk camping him out, and kept it set in place as he approached the boathouse.

Whatever the hell he had in mind, Sharky hoped he’d do it, and do it fast.

Shit, if he ended up zapped too, that’d also make his week, but for now he needed to keep swimming, and tried to see if he could make his way back towards land. His arms and legs weren’t tired, but the water wasn’t getting any warmer, and this was more of a workout than he’d planned for.

The skunk did not let up, following his drift.

“Seriously? Don’t you got something better to get up to?”

No, it didn’t, and he paddled harder hoping to get some kind of a lead on it. Kicked enough with the intent of making a break for it as soon as he hit land.

Maybe he could shimmy up a tree? Nah, he’d be a sitting duck, worse off there than here. Get back to his car on the way? His keys were swimming in his pocket right now, along with-

Aw, dammit. There went that phone. Sputtering into the water, he coughed around the word that would’ve come out otherwise, then gave it up to keep on swimming.

On the edge of the shore, he dragged himself up and out and booked it. Didn’t see anything waiting for him, but didn’t waste time either. Just hit the nearest patch of tall bushes and stayed low.

Waiting was the worst part. Waiting, listening, and trying not to make too much noise on his end. Every branch, twig, and leaf was the enemy now, and he wasn’t about to let that skunk get the drop on him again.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Loud squeaking sounded off in the distance, and he poked his head out from the bush.

Scanning left and right, Sharky checked for black and white. That and movement. When neither seemed to be present, he pushed his way forward and stepped out into the open.

Letting out a slow breath, he shook his hat out and slipped it back on. Then took in a tentative sniff as he raised his arm. The smell hung around him like a cloud, and getting a bigger whiff of it only made him want to gag.

Peeling the shirt off, he wrung it out, and gave it a smell as well. Now that made his eyes water. With his luck his jeans were just as bad, and he didn’t bother checking. Just pulled them off to get some of the water out of them too, and resigned himself to drip drying the rest of the day outdoors.

“Charlemagne? You can come out now!”

John. Guess he’d found a way to deal with it after all.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Ugh, fucker. Took him long enough.” Groaning to himself, he slung his wet clothes over his shoulder and started heading towards the clearing. 

“Well, there you…are?” John gave him a quick once over as he walked past, and pursed his lips. “Hmm.”

The woman with him didn’t even try to make eye contact. Just kept her attention directed elsewhere, her cheeks tinted red.

Great. Not that he was trying, but his odds of getting even a pity look in passing had all but tanked. “Yo, I don’t wanna know what you did, but after that? My bullshit meter’s maxed, so fuck off.”

Prying his keys out of his pocket, Sharky unlocked the truck of his car and threw the clothes into the back of it. Between the gas cans and propane tanks he’d thrown back there often enough, skunk wasn’t going to add much to the smell in there.

“Fuck off? That’s not very kind all things considering.”

The trunk dropped, and he might’ve used more force than necessary. “Kind?”

“Not even a thank you?” John eyed him from a distance, smug, but only for a second. “After chasing off your little tormentor? Such a shame, really.”

“That I ain’t feeling, what? Warm gratitude towards you right now? Like happy and fuzzy shit?”

John scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Cause you’re making a whole lot of noise for nothing, and I wouldn’t be out here busting my ass at all without you to begin with.”

“Oh, my dear Charlemagne.” He watched as John withdrew a blue handkerchief from his jean pocket, and held it up to his face to cover his nose. “I’m hardly the one at fault here.”

His patience snapped like a brittle twig. Rattling off words as fast as they came to him, he scraped for the bottom, tried actively to come up with the most out of bounds targeted insults he could conjure up just to see if he could wipe what he was sure was a smirk right off of John’s face.

Then nearly crashed into the woman who had stepped into his path. Making full-on eye contact now, she gave him a hesitant, but soft smile. “I think this might help.”

In her hands was a towel. A nice, fluffy one, and she held it out towards him.

The anger drained out of him as he stared at her. Almost as if someone took an ice bucket and dumped it right over his shoulders.

Gingerly taking it, he let it dangle in the air between them. “Uh, thanks?”

“Of course. For anyone in need, and you certainly seemed to be. Considering your lack of…clothing in general right now.”

Still had the underwear on, at least. Blushing five different shades of red, he quickly wrapped the towel around himself.  “Yeah, um, thank you again miss.”

She nodded, and headed back towards John. “We’ll be heading out, but can we expect you at mass later tonight?”

John lowered the handkerchief just enough for Sharky to catch the frown. “If work allows it. There’s still a lot left to do here, but you can let Joseph know I’ll try.”

Sharky pulled up a corner of the towel to wipe his face, no longer able to hear much of what was traded between them. Lady hadn’t even flinched at the smell up close, and the towel was a nice one. Nicer than any of the kind he had at home, and must’ve been in the basket she had with her.

Yeah, got that pity look after all. Great.

Staring down at his feet, he removed his cap to run a hand through his hair. The hushed voices behind him eventually stopped, and by the time John walked over he’d switched to looking out over the water.

“That was interesting.”

“Sure,” Sharky said, tired of arguing with John.

“And there went our progress for the afternoon. At least the morning wasn’t a complete waste, but our guest derailed us thoroughly. And I don’t believe you have a change of clothes, do you?”

Sharky rubbed his shoulder, and felt it twinge in response as he moved it. He badly needed a cigarette, and was desperate enough to see how many times it’d take for a wet one to actually light.

“Do you?”

“Look, I get what you’re asking. And no, I’d have-“ John raised the handkerchief again, and the words died in his mouth. “You know what? Forget it. And if you’re looking to avoid this shit, don’t stand downwind of it. Basic Scouting 101 right there.”

Sharky whipped the towel off and threw it at him. 

John snatched it out of the air, keeping it from smacking him in the face. “Leaving?”

Not bothering to check behind him as he approached his car, Sharky flashed him the finger.

“You can take this with you, you know.”

That John didn’t take the bait, or fight him on it, only irritated him further. He also seemed to be following him, and Sharky scowled at him. “Don’t need it.”

John sighed, and put away the cloth. “Charlemagne, it’s a towel, and you’re still soaking wet.”

“And maybe I want the draft to help dry the swamp ass brewing here, okay?” he shot, climbing in behind the wheel. “And if you wanna give me shit for cutting out early, tack on more hours as a penalty, whatever, I’ll deal with that next time. The time after, hell, as long as it doesn’t mean I’m still standing here talking any of this shit with you. That work?”

The thin line John had pressed his lips into told him otherwise, but he said nothing. Just crossed his arms before holding out the towel to him one last time.

Sharky hit the gas and didn’t look back.

—

It hadn’t been his best moment.

Drenched, nearly buck-ass naked behind the wheel, and feeling his underwear starting to chafe, he knew he hadn’t made the best choice. Maybe it’d been the fumes, maybe it’d been the embarrassment, but he’d had it, and he needed to clear out fast.

Luckily he always had a spare set of underwear on hand– seriously, an extra pair was not a thing to overlook in an emergency– but that philosophy had never extended towards actual clothes, leaving him in a dicier spot than normal.

Because heading home, pissed off, and speeding didn’t do him any favors. Especially not when one of the Deputies pulled him over only to ask what the hell he was doing. Deputy Rook hadn’t really busted his chops too many times before, but he didn’t have high hopes heading into it.

Full-on expecting a public indecency charge, he’d launched right into the story only for her to catch some of the eau de skunk he was still wearing. Wrinkling her nose, she’d waved him off, told him to get right back to fixing that problem, and she’d see about forgetting this ever happened.

Not that he’d flashed her or anything, but she kept her eyes on his face the entire time and refused to lower them.

And when she let him drive off, he doubled down on that pledge to at least pack a spare pair of jeans.

When tomorrow hit, he reset everything. Decided to take on this new day and start from scratch all while scrubbing himself off furiously, because the previous one blew from hell and back, and he wasn’t going to finish any of this without a clear head.

And much as he didn’t like to admit it, John hadn’t gone out of his way to make things worse for him. Not directly, so he let part of the mental grudge he’d been nursing go.

With Hurk’s help he snagged a replacement phone, pulling strings Sharky didn’t need to know the finer details of, and when his next time out was due, he went back, ready to dive into the old routine again.

Not bullshit-free, but at the very least skunk-free.

And the bullshit-free end of things was tested almost immediately when John all but threw him into the waiting arms of Joseph’s people. He’d volunteered to help too, but didn’t ask, simply relayed this to him all while being guided towards a set of trucks. Filled with the ‘essentials’ they were to be taken to the compound, off-loaded, then brought back.

While any danger sense he had would’ve gone off in any other situation than this, he hadn’t been too pissed about it. Joseph hadn’t hesitated to help him before, and he wasn’t about to forget what the woman from last time had done for him, and kicked himself repeatedly for not managing to get her name. Yeah, he’d been embarrassed as fuck, covered in skunk funk, and standing in his underwear, but he’d dropped the ball on that one, and hoped he’d have a chance to meet her again later on.

As morning turned into the afternoon, and more items were hefted onto the trucks to move, he lost track of time, focusing only on what he could grab, pass, and carry. He’d even lost track of John, seeing no sign of blue anywhere in the tide of white and beige, figuring he’d find him when he needed him, and was eventually proven right when he’d stepped out for a small break.

Tapping him twice on the shoulder, John gestured back towards the cars out front, signaling he was free to go, he gladly took it. And when John mentioned staying behind to finish up, he blinked at him for a good minute before double-timing it out of there. Opportunities like this weren’t to be passed up, and he left before John decided to change his mind after all.

Winded, but not really feeling it yet, he figured he still had a good half a day to go before really needing to tap out, and could burn off the rest while getting more of the boathouse’s roof down.

But when he reached the spot down there, taking a decent drag of his cigarette as he relaxed, he took the moment for what it was. A break. A moment where he didn’t have a microscope on him for once, and the tension bled right out.

Suddenly beat, he sat himself down on the ground by the boathouse. Flopped down onto his back as soon as he’d finished off his cigarette, and looked up into the sky. Clear and blue, it was about as gorgeous of a day as it could get for early fall around there, and he tugged his cap down to cover his eyes.

Just for a sec. He’d earned it.

The water helped drag him along towards it. To that peaceful place where he didn’t have to worry about much for once.  

Delightful, isn’t it?

He smiled as the breeze blew by, feeling it pull him that much closer to sleep.

Isn’t it just so? Too peaceful, almost. Calm. Quiet, the voice from the dream said, pleasant to listen to itself. A shame, really.

He frowned. Why?

Because wouldn’t it be better spent on the river? On the water? On a boat?

“Yeah. Hell, yeah,” he murmured.  

Speeding along. Leaning into the wind as it whips around you. Just…perfect.

Perfect.

I’m glad you agree. But it wouldn’t be on just any boat. No, but the rather expensive one that you so happened to smash directly into my boathouse.

Sharky tensed.

“Which you should be working on right this very instant, if memory serves me right.”

Slapping the brim of his hat in his panic, it flew up and off of his head. John was crouched down next to him, blue sunglasses down over his eyes, and wearing a smile that showed too many teeth to be friendly. 

Frozen in place, both stared the other down as the seconds ticked by, and Sharky couldn’t kick his brain in the ass enough to get it to respond. No, it seemed set on adding its own running commentary to this, all of which he was worried would spill out the moment he opened his mouth.

“Uh, yo.”

“Yo,” John replied, dropping the smile altogether. “Enjoying the break?”

“Well, I was. Actually.” John’s eyes narrowed, and Sharky swallowed hard. Felt his head bob as he tried to get past the haze the nap had put him in. “Got a little tired, and figured I’d rest some of it off, but…���

“But what?”

Sharky watched John’s teeth come out again in that odd non-smile of his, and forced his attention back up to his eyes instead. “Uhh…”

Blue on blue, the lenses of his sunglasses covered his eyes but didn’t conceal them completely.

That left Sharky wondering how the hell he’d managed to get the shade that close to begin with. It wasn’t a perfect match, but no one was going to split hairs over a color pretty as that being a compromise. At least he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t John, or trying to color match like John, and different strokes for different folks, he guessed, but there was no need to be so damn-

John cleared his throat. “Well?”

Shit. Losing it twice in less than five minutes? Maybe he really did need the shut-eye after all.

“Ah, fuck. But I guess it’s over now,” Sharky said, shaking the last of the haze off, “and I don’t see any reason to keep on dragging this shit out any longer than I have to, so…”

He clambered up, breathing in deep as he did, and swiped a hand at his forehead. It hadn’t been a quick hop and a skip up, but the weird floating feeling that came with it, didn’t help much.

Not bothering to look back at John as he shadowed him, he grabbed for one of the boards sitting on the grass, and dragged it up. Setting it on his shoulder, it bobbed like an off-balance seesaw until he was able to steady it enough to walk with.

After that, it was only a matter of taking it over to the ladder and carrying it up. Simple.

“Are you sure you have a handle on this?”

Tossing the board on the ground, he reached for the ladder. “What? Johnny Law’s worried for once?” He was on the second rung before he glanced back, and whistled at the strength of John’s glare. “Damn. That bad, huh? Guess I’d better start praying then. Maybe ol’ Joe could give me a few pointers. Give me some of that higher learning you all love so- fuck!”

The next step should’ve connected. In some ways he was glad it didn’t, because any higher and he would’ve been nursing a broken neck and not what he was thinking was shaping up to be a broken ass. 

Groaning into the grass, he heard rushed footsteps as John ran over to him. “Tell Joe I’m sorry,” he wheezed. “I take it all back. Just in case he’s got some way of putting the holy god-fearing evil eye on me, cause I did not like that one bit.”

John was definitely worried now, looking a lot more concerned than he would’ve given him credit for as he crouched down next to him. “I’ll let you do that yourself. Provided you can get back up from this.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, he examined him closely. Narrowed his eyes as he checked for whatever the hell kind of injury he was expecting, and Sharky cleared his throat.

“What?” John snapped.

“Yo, uh. Don’t think you’re going to see much up topside. Cause in case you were wondering, I’m clenching the thing that’s smarting the most.”

Following his thread, John checked. Actually looked over at where his hands had moved to, both resting right over his ass, and he almost couldn’t believe it. So, he did what any other guy in his position would do. Took the shot.

Curling his hand into okay sign, he moved it close enough to his balls to count, and struggled not to go into a coughing fit. “Made you look.”

It took a second to click, but the dawning realization of what John was looking at exactly was priceless. Spinning back on him, he didn’t waste time on being irritated. Just went straight to pissed and didn’t look back.

“What the hell were you thinking?” John asked through clenched teeth.

“That I had this? Put one foot up, then two.” Pushing himself up so he could sit, Sharky sucked in a breath. “Least I thought I did.”

“Oh, did you? Get up.” He reached for his arm, and pulled him bodily to his feet.

The pain faded to a dull throbbing, telling him he was okay enough to move around at least, but balance? He found his mostly shot as he rocked, leaning on John only long enough to take a tentative step towards the picnic table nearby.

Feeling John’s eyes burning a hole into his back, Sharky kept on going. Didn’t think John was going to let him get far without saying anything else, but as he hobbled over to the spot he had to check over his shoulder. To see what exactly his deal was if he wasn’t going to keep on yelling at him, only to find him watching closely.

“Yo, don’t make it weird.”

John’s eyes flicked up to his. “You would be the one doing that.”

“Not that I’m not…I mean, that shot to my moneymaker was pretty bad, but it ain’t broke, so I don’t think it’ll need any fixing.” Considering it briefly, he shrugged. “Not that I guess I mind you looking much, seeing as it’s-“

“I wasn’t,” John replied, unamused. Crossing his arms, he glanced skyward and sighed. “But maybe you had the right idea to begin with.”

“Right idea with what?”

“The resting part. Not…whatever this is supposed to be.” John eyed him skeptically as he walked up next to him, and held out his hand. “Let me see your keys.”

“Why?”

“You’re exhausted. More than you’re willing to admit to after helping Joseph and working down here. So, I propose a break. Not down here, but up at the ranch instead. There’s water, better seats available, and if you do end up needing some form of treatment, an actual first aid kit.”

“Like I said, it’s not exactly busted. And I really don’t think you wanna-”

“And alcohol.”

Sharky’s eyes lit up. “For real?” John nodded, and Sharky immediately started fishing for his keys.  

“Ah, ah,” John said, wagging his finger at him. “Only if you hand them over first. I’d rather not add loss of life or limb to the things you would need to compensate me for if we end up crashing, so I don’t want you anywhere near the wheel.“

“Dude, if I’m dead I can’t pay you back for shit. Hell, if we’re both dead, that debt’s pretty much kaput.”

“Exactly,” John stated, “and precisely why I should be the one driving us there, not you, so if you could?”

Staring down at his open palm, Sharky frowned. Checked the keys clenched in his fist, and weighed his options.

Sighing again, John gave him a look. “Sometime today.”

The beer won out. “Eh, fuck it.”

He placed the keys in John’s hand, and in exchange earned something he didn’t expect. A smile.  

—

It actually didn’t bother him all that much. Being chauffeured around by John was an idea he wouldn’t have come up with in a thousand years, but watching him struggle to get into his car and figure it out was funny enough on its own before he even got around to starting it.

His seat cover was a blanket, and there was a hole worn into the cushion just from age and use which John made a face at soon after sinking into it, but after cramming more of the blanket into the spot to get comfortable – a move he often did himself – he started the car.

The motor let out a loud whine. Wrinkling his nose, John threw a critical look Sharky’s way as he shrugged a shoulder back at him. Turning the key again, this time the car kicked to life, and John, to his credit, didn’t stall it when he pulled out.

The rest of the ride up wasn’t eventful, even when John skidded over the dirt due to the worn tires. Just corrected for it, tensing behind the wheel as Sharky casually talked him through it, and spent the last stretch of the trip telling him how the last time he’d done that the tire had blown.

“Seriously! Popped. Got me spinning and I nearly threw up by the time I stopped. It was pretty fucking awesome.”

John, however, didn’t seem to agree. Not by the way he’d gripped the wheel, and not with the look he shot him shortly after saying that.

So, when they pulled up to the hangar, he’d all but jumped out of the car. Stifling a laugh, Sharky followed, and couldn’t help but rub his hands together at the kind of stash John had to have waiting out here. Probably high-proof aged shit, the kind of stuff that was usually too rich for his blood and would’ve been charged just for looking at it.

But first? Those chairs set off to the side were calling his name, and he headed straight for them.

Setting himself down gently, Sharky didn’t care if he was half hanging out of it as he oozed down and adjusted. There was nothing left to do but focus on chilling, and he let his eyes slip closed as he did just that.

He heard humming. It wasn’t anything he recognized, but John kept up with it as he rummaged around nearby. Light little notes that were strange coming from him, but not bad to listen to.  

The sound drifted closer, becoming whistling, and Sharky glanced over at him from under the brim of his hat.

John pulled up the chair next to him and handed him a bottle. The rest of the six-pack he set down in the space between them. “I was going to give it to you on the way out, but it seems a waste to keep on waiting when now’s the perfect time.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, cracking the beer open.

It wasn’t anything that he was familiar with, however, and after taking a drink of it, eyed the label. Smooth and with a coffee-taste chasing it, it wasn’t his usual combo by any means.

He took another drink, rolling it around in his mouth, and noticed John was watching him. His eyebrows had drawn together as he studied him, and Sharky tried not to choke down the rest of the mouthful before clearing his throat. “You, uh, wanna tell me what that means?”

“Hmm?” John tilted his head as the look intensified, but his eyes widened. “That wasn’t- it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. I was checking to see if you liked it, and clearly there’s something lacking.”

Fuck. Now he’d done it. “What? Nah, it’s all good, man. I’d never look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not with beer and shit, it’s just not what I’d buy. Not down at the Eagle when I’m three beers in and looking to get blasted fast, at least.”

John considered this for a few seconds and nodded. “I see.”

“And don’t go thinking I’m being ungrateful or nothing. Cause after a day like this, you want something to take the edge off right. This works. Well, that and, er, just…”

He didn’t think blurting out, ‘Man, just really getting fucked,’ was something worth sharing. Not with John at least, no matter how true it would’ve been. So, he let the sentence stay unfinished for a few while he tried to come up with another way to end it.

It wasn’t easy, and as Sharky idly scratched his goatee, he mostly gave up the fight. “You know. Just burning that shit off. Constructively.“

That got an eyebrow raise. “Constructively?”

“Yeah, constructively. Least that’s how I like my fucking to go.” John blinked at him, clearly waiting for him to explain further, and Sharky made his go-to gesture a little more suggestive just to mess around a bit. “Teamwork makes the dream work, am I right?”

That was a look he’d never think he’d get out of John. Ever. And ranking the others he’d been able to score so far that day, it shot straight to number one. “Ah.”

“But failing that, drinking works. And if you want one too, go right ahead. Sucks drinking alone anyway. Never been a fan of it before, and you won’t find me liking it now.”

He grabbed one of the bottles, holding it out to John directly.

Left blinking slowly at him, Sharky had to wiggle the bottle at him to break him out of the daze he’d settled into, but once he did, he held his hand up.

“No, that’s…I don’t drink. Not often at least. Not anymore.”

“No?” Sharky frowned, taking it back. “Not liking it? Needed a break from it? Like no judging or anything, you do you. Just curious is all.”

John thought it over, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he sat back in the chair. It almost seemed like he was going to drop it all together, but eventually broke the silence.

“Let’s say that drinking to excess was a habit that came easily to me when I was younger. It wasn’t easy to work my way back from it. Or even to cut it down to a level that was manageable, but I had help. And without that, there’s no telling what state I would be in right now.”

“But this…me drinking in front of you, that’s not bothering you any?”

He shook his head. “In limited numbers and in limited company I find no problem with it. Bars can make it complicated, but with the right people even that can be tuned out as well. I can focus on them and what they’re saying. Enjoying what they’re sharing with me instead of thinking about how fine the whiskey at the table nearby must be.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, and tapped a finger against his lips.

“A shame, really. But it’s for the best.”

“Huh.” Sharky gave the label another once-over, and held it up. “Who picked this out then?”

“Why, I did. It was a gift. Handing that off to someone else, especially to either of my brothers, though I love them dearly, would’ve been unacceptable. Joseph has zero interest in alcohol, and Jacob is…straightforward with what he likes. There’s little nuance to it, and I suspect anything would do given the opportunity. So, lucky for you,” he said, smirking, “though I haven’t tried it, I still have an eye for taste.”

Sharky scrunched up his face mid-drink, showing John exactly what he thought of that.

John took one look at him, his puffed up cheeks rounding out a scowl, and laughed.

The sound made Sharky go into a coughing fit, pounding on his chest to clear it all out. All while John continued, holding a hand over his mouth as it tapered off into a soft chuckle.

“Not cool, man. Not fucking cool,” Sharky rasped, downing more liquid to help soothe his throat.

“Me? I’m not the one at fault here. In fact, I think you were about to disagree with me.”

“Whatever. So, how’d you get it?”

He raised the bottle in the direction of the plane. From what he could see of it under the edge of the tarp, it was pretty slick, like something out of an old World War II movie, and John’s eyes followed him to it.

“Affirmation?”

“Affirm-what?” Sharky gave him a look. “Seriously? You into the power of positive thinking, or something?”

“…The name does have importance to me, yes,” John said, quickly following up the statement with, “but the story’s a little long-winded. And I don’t think you want to hear me talk on and on, for the sake of talking, to begin with.”

He looked uncomfortable. More so than Sharky’d seen him yet, and Sharky got the impression it was a touchy subject.

“I don’t know. Could be some pretty neat shit. The plane, that is. Better if it’s an older one too, cause it might’ve been in some real dogfights. …But that’s the kind of thing that gets you ghosts, and hauntings, and all sorts of weird events like the kind they document only to leave a bunch of VHS tapes behind. Which I’m down for any of that, but you need a camcorder and I roasted mine the last time Hurk and I tried-“

“It’s not haunted.”

Sharky gave him a skeptical look. “Like, you sure? Cause sometimes this shit don’t start until years after you get it.”

“It’s not, and I’ve had no such ‘events’ since acquiring it. But it does have history.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before aiming an amused look Sharky’s way. “And since you’ve twisted my arm into it, I suppose I’ll just have to tell it.”

Not that he twisted it too hard, or at all. Sharky almost told him so too, choosing to down the rest of his beer instead.

But over the next hour John told him everything he knew about it. Where the original planes were first built, when they were used, and how many were made at the time. How this model had seen light use decades back, was now in need of serious repairs to bring it back into working shape, and had been about to be junked. John had caught word of it due to hanging in those circles - plus making way too many model planes as a kid - and shoved a wad of cash in the collector’s face before any no’s could be thrown around.

Because John had fallen in love with the thing on sight. Known he’d wanted that plane to be his, but had to get behind the controls to be sure.

And when he was in the air?

“Perfection,” he said, his tone soft. “Nothing compared to it. To the rush that came from rising high above the world below. Losing yourself in it. Completely.”

A faraway look fell over him after that.

It hung around long enough for Sharky to realize he’d been holding his breath and waiting for him to continue. But John shrugged it off, going back to the animated way he’d been talking before. If he’d thought the humming was weird earlier, this was right in the same ballpark.

Because John was John. A grade-A asshole inside and out.

This? This wasn’t John.  

This John kept on talking. Didn’t drop the conversation as they crossed from planes to history, but Sharky found he didn’t want to stop him either. Just let him go on, using his hands to show off various flying techniques, or to draw out in the air what was running through his head as he described it. Those same motions drew his attention to the tattoos lining the inside of his wrist. 

The inked planes resting below John’s watch stood out, and it reminded him of the flames running up his own forearm. How much of an impact that alone had on him as a whole, and he wondered how far that love of flying ran.

It was always cool to listen to someone that was really into what they were talking about. Like seriously digging it to the point that they’d perk up whenever asked, and you could read it clear as day.

John was no exception to this, content to keep on talking however long Sharky would allow him to. He just didn’t expect any of that to be shared with him. Ever.

When Sharky eventually stopped the conversation to mention heading back, John almost looked disappointed. Sighing dejectedly, John admitted that maybe he’d taken up more of his time than intended, but there was no need to worry about the boathouse after that.

Stunned, Sharky waited for the correction. Some sign that John was pulling his leg or fucking with him, but none came. And calling him on that hadn’t earned the reaction he’d expected either. Only a repeat of what John had told him before.

“You’re free to go. Today’s work is done, and after indulging me for as long as you have, I thought you’d be happy to leave.”

“Uh, yeah. Fuck yeah, but…this is kind of like one of those moments where you’re wondering if there’s like some kinda hidden catch to it.”

“Catch? You’ve helped not only me, but Joseph as well, so I believe today’s portion of your debt has been paid in full. And don’t worry; there’s no fine print you’re missing here, not this time,” he said, growing more amused by the second. “But if you’re so set on staying, I’m sure I can come up with plenty of other things for you to tend to.“

“Nah, I’m just-I’m going.”

“And as for the beer, you’re more than welcome to leave the rest-“

Sharky grabbed for it as well, and he could’ve sworn John looked pleased he did. “Gift beers, you don’t leave. You know, like horses. ‘Cause you know with gift horses, mouths, and shit like that, it’s just fucking rude not to appreciate it.”

“Mouths and horses notwithstanding, of course.”

Setting his chin on top of his hand, John watched him fumble for another minute through an attempt to peace out before finally shooing him away instead. The added push was all Sharky needed, and he left.

He walked all the way to his car - clutching a six-pack that he pledged to polish off before the day was out - and the minute the door was closed behind him, slapped his cheek. Did so at least two more times to make sure he was still sitting in that seat, beer in hand, and not sleeping it off somewhere.

Nope. He was there. The beer - cold by his side - and this time around, more refreshing on the second go.

Horses and mouths indeed.

—

“So, where is it? Where’s all of the shit-talking I used to look forward to? Like, by now I was getting ready for the good stuff, but it’s running out.”

Sharky paused, dropping the tire back down into the back of Hurk’s truck. “About what?”

“Really?” Hurk asked, gaping at him. “You know, the asshat that’s been blackmailing you into doing his dirty work for the last month and a half. Thinking he’s slicker than a greased pig, and he might be because who the hell knows what he uses to keep his hair like that. And palms. You grease those too, not just for jerking, and cuz, you’re killing me here.”

“It’s…I’m not gonna lie, he’s really wigging me out at times. Acting like it’s good to have me around to help and shit. ‘Cause I don’t always work on the boathouse. I’ve helped Joe, I’ve helped move stuff around on the airstrip, I’ve run stuff down to the Peggies’ church. And yeah, being told ‘you’re going to do this today’ instead of doing what I was planning on doing sucks, but the Peggies are kinda nice.”

He wasn’t paying attention while Hurk reached for the firehose running out front. Jerry-rigged outside, it was usually his last-ditch effort when any of the fires outgrew their boundaries.

So, it was easy enough to grab. Easy enough to aim, and - in Hurk’s case - easy enough to point and shoot, especially while he kept his mouth running, none the wiser.

“And John’s all right, too. I know it’s kind of-whoa, whoa, what the-“ A wave of freezing cold water hit his chest, and Sharky sputtered as he threw his hands up. “What the fuck, man? Jesus, just cool it! Cool it!”

Hurk aimed it up and away, and jabbed a finger at him. 

“Straight talk. You point me to the spot in the woods where my fave cuz’s tied up and waiting to be beamed up, and I swear I’ll let you go. ‘Til then, you better talk faster, because I don’t even know where to go with ‘Oh, John and the Peggies? Yeah, they’re all right.’”

Teeth chattering, Sharky shrugged.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. It’s better. Like he’s decided it’s okay to be a person for once.”

This time he was hit in the face, and he threw both middle fingers Hurk’s way before finally wrangling the hose away from him.

“That’s up my nose now,” he grumbled, feeling it burn as he forced air through it. “Up my nose, which is one of the top ten worst feelings to deal with. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

The spray mid-apology was kind of a jerk move, but Hurk had earned it. That and the noogie as he wrangled Hurk under his arm. If he was going to be forced to drip-dry out here, he wasn’t dealing with that shit alone.

The roar of an engine overhead made him loosen his grip, however. Both of them glanced up, their attention won by the plane soaring by.

Usually Sharky would catch one every once in a blue moon out over here. With the steep hills, it wasn’t always best if you needed to land the plane in an emergency, but that didn’t stop anyone from taking them as high as the pilot wanted it.

This one wasn’t too high in the sky, though. Painted a darker color, it cut a fine line through the air above as it climbed. Spinning in a smooth arc, it curved - rounding back - and Hurk let out a low whistle.

“Look at that, huh? Bet Nick gets up to all kinds of fancy shit up there when he’s off the ground.”

“Yeah. Should ask him if he’d take us up sometime.”

Watching the plane loop back, the pull was almost strong enough to make him want to book it to Nick’s right now. He’d always been curious about the high that came with getting off of the ground; how that ramped up during a dive, or even on a sharp turn.

Something about this plane bugged him, though. Like there was something he was missing that should’ve hit, but wasn’t.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve been up in a bunch of choppers, man, and it’s real sketchy once the cross-winds hit. Gets my lunch swirling, and even hits when I’m in Tulip.”

“Why? Your ma’s damn good at what she does.”

“It’s always squirrely, feeling the entire thing rock back and forth, back and…” Hurk paused, and slapped at Sharky’s waving arm. “What’re you doing? He can’t see us from down here.”

“And why not? Yeah, he’s – or she, could be one badass babe up there - not skimming the ground, but they’re low enough to see what’s down here if they angle it right.”

Almost as if listening, the plane came back over; the roar of the engine echoing in the air as it came closer. Getting a better look at it now, he could see more of the slick paint job; the dark grey really reminding him of a color he’d seen recently.

As in, within-the-last-couple-of-weeks-or-so recent. Like in a hangar, half-hidden under a tarp.

Finally slapping those last missing puzzle pieces into place, it all clicked this time, and Sharky’s eyes widened. 

“Uh, I think that’s John.”

“Say what?”

Hurk’s surprise wasn’t too far off from his own. 

“Dude, that’s his plane. I don’t think anyone else around here’s got a ride like that.”

Or even in that style, period. It stood out in the sky, and Sharky almost laughed to himself. He would want that attention, and showing off while he was at it? Seemed like a standard thing he’d try for, if given the shot - and right now? He looked set on taking it.

Diving down, his breath caught as the plane soared in a set line towards the ground. Daring to get as close as possible - cutting it a lot closer than he would’ve if given the chance - only to shoot back up above the trees, spinning on the exit.

Yeah, that was John.

Whistling loudly, Sharky whooped before punching Hurk in the shoulder. 

“Oh, come on. That was pretty fucking neat.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Hurk cracked soon after, smiling. “Okay, it was pretty rad, but if that is him, and he ever gets us talking about it, we ain’t saying shit. Not a single word set on complimenting, talking nice, or doing any of that. Period.”

The plane didn’t come back this time, heading out over the fields as it faded from view.

“Nope,” Sharky said absently, as he kept his eyes skyward. “Not a single fucking word.”

—

That night when he messaged John to tell him he was heading in, he didn’t get his usual answer.

Busy in the hangar. Stop by there, will you?

The doors were open as he pulled up outside, and he couldn’t see John when he stepped out. His plane was front and center, one of the side panels open with a tool cart rolled up next to it, and he walked up to get a closer look.

“Tempting as it is, try not to stick your hand in there.”

Sharky held both up, and quickly stepped back. “I didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t say you did anything.” John walked up from behind, wiping his hands down with a towel, smirking all the while. “Just wouldn’t want to lose a finger now. That would be a surefire way to ruin an evening.”

Against all odds, he hadn’t lost one yet. Not to any of his homemade whizzlers, not to any of the cherry bombs, and not to that one incident with the paper cutter in school. Now, really would be a lame time to do it, and in front of John? He’d never live it down.

Flexing his fingers - all ten of them - he shoved both hands into his pockets, and turned towards him.

Dressed in his version of casual, the shirt John was wearing was still too pricey to be anywhere near oil or heavy machinery, but that didn’t faze him. His hands were dirty and he was doing the work. Actually getting in there and taking care of it, instead of shoving it onto someone else, and Sharky could respect that.

But the moves he pulled in the air earlier? Thinking back on them made a whistle want to slip out. John could fly. There was no fucking doubt about it, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to catch him up in the air again at some point.

“So, uh…you take her out today?”

“I might’ve had to check to see how things were running,” John said with a shrug.

“You fly out over towards the Henbane?”

John raised his head, eying him curiously. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“See, I was out with my cousin Hurk. Just unloading some tires to use for um, crafting purposes.”

“Crafting. I never took you for the type.”

“Not like the kind with paper, glue, and scissors. Like tire sculptures, or just taking the shit apart to see what we can get out of it, ‘cause there’s at least twenty things you can do with a worn-out tire. We’ve honed it down to an art, man.”

John said nothing further, only examined his hands as he wiped off more of the dirt. He looked up to catch Sharky’s eye while he worked, reminding him that he’d been telling a story before he’d trailed off. Sharky cleared his throat. Loudly.  

“Uh, anyway. You, flying.”

John redirected his attention to his hands, but Sharky didn’t miss the way his lips had curved up.

 “I thought it was you, working?”

“Me, working, distracted by you, flying, and I know I got twisted around in the middle of that, but I saw you earlier. Your plane flying over my house. Now you’re the only guy around here with anything coming close to having one of those warplanes they’d call you in to borrow for re-enactments, movie deals - or, hell - for admiring and shit, so don’t go denying it. And don’t go fucking with me either, ‘cause I know what I saw.”

“Good eye. Sharper than I expected.” John set the towel down on the cart, and walked over to the plane. “Perhaps you can put that eye for detail to good use tonight.”

“What?”

“Affirmation does need some tuning. I was hoping to have it finished before you came by, but…” John frowned, eyeing the engine with distaste. “As you can see here, I’m not quite done yet.”

“Ah, I get that. Shit never works out how you plan it, not with cars, bikes, and I guess planes fit in there too. You wanna get that oil changed before the sun’s up? Should take twenty to thirty minutes max. Well, why not check the tires too? And if you’re looking at that, might as well try the brakes.”

He watched John roll over the tool cart, giving him a glance over his shoulder as he did so. Taking the gesture as a signal to keep on going, Sharky took a place just behind him by the cart, and settled in to watch him work.

“…And that weird leak you forgot about two weeks ago? Kiss your afternoon goodbye, cause your radiator’s busted and might’ve been roasting your car from the inside out.”

“Sounds like someone’s speaking from experience.”

“Man, you don’t even know how many times I’ve had my shitbox crater on me. And I take care of it. Maybe not using the stuff that’ll keep the mechanic off of my back if I need to bring it in, but it runs. And I can keep it going on nothing but lint, duct tape, and quarters if I have to.”

“And somehow, in spite of that, it hasn’t exploded or found a way to catch on fire?”

“It did catch on fire. Once.”

John’s eyebrows flew up. “With you in it?”

“Sort of. I might’ve hopped out right after the smoke started coming, ‘cause that crisped-up burnt smell ain’t normal even with a busted heater, but I handled it. Drove it right on down to the Spread Eagle just in time for Happy Hour, too.”

Blinking at him, John slowly turned back to the engine. 

“Is that the same car you’ve been bringing here?”

“Yep.”

John paused again. “The one that I’ve ridden in?”

“Same one. Drove it, too.”

A few emotions crossed John’s face then. Disbelief held on the longest, as he slowly turned to look right at Sharky.

“What? Like I said, it runs. Long as it does that, I don’t need anything fancier than that to get around. And, hey. If that shit ever does go up and someone needs to handle it, you know I’m damn near certified by this point.”

“Knowing that the county’s resident pyromaniac should be able to put out the fire he also started is not as reassuring as it should be.”

Sharky frowned. “Yo, you really wanna say that? Seeing as you’re someone that keeps talking shit, all while needing people to call you, confide in you, and hire you for the whole defending-them-in-court thing? Not doing great on the being-anything-but-a-dick part. Just saying.”

John narrowed his eyes, but didn’t fight the point. Just went back to work, and Sharky wasn’t sure what to do with the victory.

Shaking it off, he crossed his arms and tried not to fidget as he watched him. Doing nothing at all was the real challenge, having no choice but to be patient and keep an eye on John instead.

But he hadn’t kicked him out, or told him to go where he was needed most. He was sure he would’ve told him to head down to the boathouse by now - or hell, that he would’ve gone on his own - but he didn’t feel like leaving yet. Not even after the dig. Curiosity won this fight, and he’d let it do its thing for a little while longer.

Glancing over at him, John gave it a second and gestured towards the cart. 

“Can you hand me that wrench?”

Sharky followed his line of sight towards it. Taking it, he handed it over and couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. 

“So, you do all of this on your own?”

“It’s important to be able to identify problems as they appear. I could hire someone to do that for me. Easily leave this to them, but having that knowledge beforehand - especially if I do end up having to land - is crucial. And I refuse to let willful ignorance prevent me from fixing anything well within my power and ability. That, and laziness.”

“Laziness?”

“What’s my problem becomes someone else’s to fix. To mend. Affirmation is my responsibility. Shouldn’t I be well aware of how it’s operating before I take off? That kind of carelessness can be prevented.”

“Makes sense.”

“I hope so. Any pilot would do the same if they had any degree of pride in their skills.”

Sharky rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, guess Nick goes through the same checks too. And if I had one, guess I’d have to break out the old toolbox and get into it.”

“Treated better than your car, I would hope?”

“Uh, still fucking rude for one, and two, hell yeah I would. Shit, the closest I’ve come to flying, period, was through honoring Clutch Nixon a few years back – rest his badass, no-longer-beating heart – and I was airborne long enough to love it. If I had a plane, I’d treat her right.”

Sitting up, John gave him a long look.

“That doesn’t count.”

“What don’t count?”

“Stunt driving isn’t close.”

“So you say, but you haven’t taken a motherfucking dive off of a cliff, amigo.”

“It’s not-” John pressed his fingers to his temple and sighed. “There are measures taken.”

“Yeah, and I know you gotta do more than mess around with your joystick up there, but the fall’s real. The pounding in your heart as it just-” He clenched his fist, and let out a breath - “Fuck, man, you feel alive coming back from that. And get one hell of a massive boner while you’re at it.”

Lowering his hand, John leveled a flat stare at him.

“Yeah, had to give that last one a solid seven point five out of ten. Hell, maybe an eight.”

Still clenching his fist, Sharky held the eye contact, grinning awkwardly all the while. At least until he noticed the marks on John’s face. Three small dark dots, all of which came from his equally stained fingers.

The snicker slipped out before he could help it. “You, uh, got a little something on you.”

Gesturing towards his face, John reached up and nearly added another before glancing down at his fingers. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah, dude. Might be able to connect the dots at the rate you’re going.”

“Let me just…where did that get to?”

He sorted through the items on the cart before finding the discarded towel, and checked it before swiping at his face.

“Might wanna go to the left.” John shifted it, the spot turning into a streak, and Sharky grimaced. “Uh, maybe to the right?” Streaked again. “Huh. Think you might wanna go back to what you were doing the first time.”

“You aren’t helping,” John said, slapping down the towel to search through the tools set. “So, how about you go occupy yourself over there, and we’ll get back to this when I’m certain I’m not covered in dirt.”

John had pointed towards the refrigerators, and Sharky gave him a passing glance before skipping over towards it.

 “Could be worse, man. Not like it’s a sharpied dick, or anything.”

Prying the doors open, Sharky didn’t know what he was looking for at first. He knew John had hidden the mystery beer here last time, but that wasn’t what he spotted. No, on the shelves was a pack of his old faithful, and he felt a tear come to his eye.

“Is that acceptable?”

Sharky reached in and held up the six pack, and sighed dreamily as he hugged it to his face. 

“Amigo, I think you’re my new best friend now.”

He heard John scoff somewhere behind him, and turned to see him parked in front of a small handheld mirror. One of the streaks was a bonafide line traveling up the side of his face now, and smeared more when John swiped a finger through it. Tossing the mirror back onto the cart, he clenched his jaw, and went right back to the plane without even waiting for him to come back.

“So, John,” he started, popping the cap off of the beer, “you want me to stick with you up here, dude? ‘Cause I was going to head on down to the river at some point. Just looked like you needed me more up here than there at the time, and…”

“There’s no need.” John spun on his seat to face him. “You’ve been making significant progress lately down at the boathouse. Anything else would put you ahead. And after staying up here as long as you have, you’ve earned the time to yourself, if you want it.”

Free to go? Again?

That had him scratching his head as he polished off the beer fast.

 “Uh, okay. Like, I can do whatever the hell I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

That was music to his ears. At least it would’ve been every other week leading up to this one.

Thinking it over for a while, he tried to think of anything he would’ve done with the time. Anything he’d set aside to come out here, but couldn’t find a thing. No, nothing stood out, and when he looked back over towards the plane, he aimed the bottle in his hand towards it.

“You still need someone up here?”

John looked surprised.

“What?” Sharky said. “I’ve got the rest of the day to myself, and usually that’s spent doing jack and shit when work’s not coming in, so…if you need it, I’m here. Not that it’s really that big of a deal anyway, you know?”

That got him a smile. One that John held onto long after Sharky expected him to drop it, and chuckled. 

“I suppose not.”

“This’ll be the highlight of my day, and I’d like to stick around. Unless you want me out.”

He thought it over, but not for longer than a minute. “If I did, I would’ve told you so.”

“So, back to work?” Sharky said, starting to smile himself.

Saying nothing, John stepped back and held out a hand towards the plane. 

“Back to work.”

—

So, maybe the work schedule wasn’t as ironclad a thing as it used to be.

John liked routine, sure, and had been real anal about it when he’d first started out, but there was a flexibility to it now. It was no longer always about when, so long as it was done, and he could work with that.

Took a morning when he needed it. Took on a few more jobs around town for anyone willing to let him shoulder it, and if there was any overlap, all it took was one message to clear it up. John was willing to work with him now, and…And if some nights lead to more chances to hang with John, he didn’t complain. Got more time around John’s plane, and even got to pitch in when it came to working on his car too.

The real shocker for him, though, had been the fresh boards and nails set. The signs that someone else had been working down there when he hadn’t. When he’d asked, John didn’t confirm it. He didn’t deny it either, but after ten minutes of standing around and talking with him, he grabbed a nearby hammer and took a spot right next to him. Went right to work, without even batting an eye, and Sharky couldn’t believe it. Grinned brightly at him as he punched him in the shoulder, and found he wanted John there for once.

This was starting to feel a whole lot like he’d made a friend.

One that was cagey in a whole lot of ways still, and one he couldn’t exactly pop down on the couch with for a weekend of pizza, beer, and porn to sort through, but close. And thinking it over, he didn’t find himself minding the change all too much either.

But some nights John needed to shift things around, and when he woke up that morning nursing a hangover, he had a message waiting for him.

Family, John mentioned, the text sent at an hour that made Sharky’s head pound harder. Have to reschedule. Sorry.

No big deal, he sent back. Holler if you need me later. No plans.

Then went right back to sleep. With the day open, he spent the morning seeing how long he could go without pants before anyone else dropped by.  

Quiet after that, he’d nearly gone stir crazy when Hurk called, wanting his expertise on a special job. One that was better suited to two heads rather than his one. Or better yet, four hands; each for holding a stick of their brand of high explosive. That’s how they fished, and sure, it stirred up every other critter in the area, but as long as they weren’t ambushed by bears or cougars, it was a risk worth taking.

Mid-throw was when his phone went off. Just a message, not a call, but it made his pipe bomb go wide, and he’d nearly made the two of them go for a dunk themselves.

Change in plans. Come over.

No further clarification, no explanation; just those words. Not that John went off on long tangents through text, but it was the quickest turnaround he’d seen yet, and he actually pulled out his phone to call.

Holding a finger to his eardrum, Sharky waited. Heard the echo of an explosion in one ear, and ringing in the other only to get nothing.

“Hey, I’m going to have to cut out on this.”

“Now?” Hurk asked, with a stick of dynamite in each hand. “Just when I was thinking of getting ol’ Sally out?”

He never held up well in the face of his cousin’s disappointment, especially when he pulled out that tone of voice, but held strong. 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s…I’ve got this weird message to check out, and you can never tell if it’s gonna be the good kind or the weird kind until it’s hitting you in the face, and there’s not a whole lot to go on here.”

“Fine, get on out; go, go, go. I’ll be here for a while, but if I catch something cool you’ll be sad you missed out.”

—

Pulling up to John’s place, he still hadn’t pinned down what the problem was. The boathouse catching fire wasn’t likely. He’d put out any cigarettes over by the picnic table, ‘cause he’d made too much progress there to blow it now.

Ticking off other options on his fingers, he counted through them, narrowing them down as he made his way to the front, and he was still down to two when he hit the doorbell.

The door swung open, but John wasn’t the one waiting on the other side.

It was Jacob Seed.

Ex-military. Private. Rocked the rowdiest set of scars he’d ever seen on a person. At least, judging from the ones he could see on his face. Probably hunted guys in the woods for sport. Or at least thought about it. Had the training to do it if he had to.

Sharky could count on his fingers the number of times he’d run into the guy outside of the odd job in the mountains, but he knew he wasn’t the kind, friendly, approachable type. No; standing taller than most, Jacob didn’t trade more than a handful of words with anyone outside of Eli Palmer, and maybe the local hunters up north.

And if he thought John was bad, Jacob’s stare was a full-blown weapon. It made Sharky squirm on the spot. 

“Uh, yo.”

“Boshaw.”

“How’s it going?” he asked, smiling a little too wide to keep it casual.

Jacob shrugged. “It’s going. You?”

“Kinda. Something’s always going; it’s just not going much right now if you get what I’m-what I’m getting at.”

Get what I’m getting at? What the hell was that?

The longer Jacob kept him there, the more he was going to try and fidget his way out of there, and he knew he was being read. Maybe even being messed with at this point, but he didn’t cut and run. Not yet.

“Is John around?”

“You here for something?”

“Yeah it’s…you know about the whole working-with-your-younger-bro thing, right? How I’m down by the river, putting shit up, and trying to make that entire area pretty again? Well, he got a hold of me. Mentioned wanting to work, and thinks he can snap his fingers and I’ll jump or something.”

Jacob’s glance took on an amused bend. “Does he? How high?”

“Uh, I can jump up to three, maybe four, but that’s not…it isn’t-” That was it. That was it in a nutshell, and joking about it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. “So, you see him around, or…?”

Jacob moved his head, motioning behind him, and stepped aside. 

“He’s upstairs.”

With the path now open, Sharky took it a little faster than needed, not wanting to hang back too much or stay close to Jake. But that left him standing in the middle of John’s ranch house - and seeing the whole thing in full for the first time was a lot to take in at once.

Because when he’d mentioned loving nature shit, this was that on steroids. Like someone had told John this was what a cabin should’ve looked like instead of what one actually was. The antlers, the chandelier, the fucking bear skin rug? All surrounding one giant fireplace?

That had him chuckling as Jacob took a few steps towards him. 

“Something funny?”

Jolting slightly, Sharky shoved his hands into his pockets.  

“I, uh…no. Okay, a little. You see a lot of those Hallmark movies? The ones set at Christmas?”

Jacob craned his head towards him. 

“Y’know; the kind where two people are snowed in, having to wait it out and huddle for warmth and shit?”

“No.”

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t seen too many either, but he’d seen the one. That covered most of the bases needed. 

“Well, uh, the place looks like that. Like, John’s staging it for something along those lines. Just for cuddling, huddling, and uh…yeah. Holiday stuff.”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff and things, yeah.” 

That actually got a snort out of Jacob, and Sharky gave himself a mental pat on the back. 

“I’m serious. Like that couch is primed for mistletoe and some uh, ho ho-holy shit, I’ll stop now.”

There was the sound of a door being slammed, and Sharky jumped. Seconds after, he caught John on the upper level as he strode towards the stairs, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Sharky called up to him. “Yo, man. Thought I’d need to-“

That’s when he caught the dark look crossing John’s face for the first time. That, and the actual speed with which he was walking. Asking was a mistake, but it was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Uh, John? You okay, amigo? You want me to come back another-“

John grabbed his arm as he passed by, and dragged Sharky along with him. Right past a concerned Jake, right past the front door, leading him down towards the dirt road.

“Whoa, hey, wait!” Nothing clicked, not his words and not the way he tried to pull away. John was a man possessed, focused only on a single point, and that didn’t sit well with him at all. “Seriously, dude, stop!”

Sharky planted his feet, and yanked his arm out of the grip. That brought John to a stop, and Sharky watched him slowly turn towards him. Breathing harder than he should’ve been, Sharky took off his cap and brushed a hand through his hair. 

“What the fuck, man?”

Tense, and with his jaw locked, John didn’t even bother giving him a response. Just a stare that would’ve killed any other person dead if he’d had the ability. Still, he wasn’t chasing him off, or leaving, and that made Sharky keep on trying.

“You wanna talk or something? You really look like…”

“What I want,” John bit out as he approached him, “is to get as far away from that fucking house as possible. I don’t care where as long as it’s not here.”

Sharky sucked in a breath, not prepared for that level of venom or John’s sudden proximity, and let it out. 

“Uh, okay. Shit, let’s…let’s go then. Not like I was in the mood to work anyway.”

Shuffling around him, Sharky started back towards his car, and waved for John to follow.  The heat of his stare wasn’t as bad from this distance, but it didn’t let up until John dropped it to climb into the passenger side of the vehicle. He fired the car up after that, hoping the damn thing wouldn’t stall, and the two sped out of there before anyone could come calling.

“Now I know what works for me whenever shit like that gets me down.”

Sharky turned on the radio only for John to flip it off. Balking at him again, Sharky noted that this time the road was the one having to deal with John glaring at it, and he tried to keep as light a tone as he could manage.

“Anyway, you need an outlet. Something to kick all that negative shit in the balls hard enough to make three family lines regret it. So you can get up and go back to living life like you want to. Maybe this won’t be your thing, but I think you might like this.”

“…Like what?”

“Well, I’d explain it to you, but this is one of those things where it’s better just to give it a try. Not to spoil any of the surprise as we head on out, but it rhymes with…shit. What rhymes with burn?”

Urn. Turn. Learn. Yearn. That was a good one. Not that he needed it for anything, but it was good to know. Fuck. Did he say burn out loud too?

Swearing under his breath, he shook his head. 

“Anyway, a little ‘Burn, Baby, Burn’ never hurt anyone. Least, not anyone worth knowing.”

John said nothing, leaving Sharky to listen to the sound of the road as it crunched underneath the car’s tires, but right as he’d started tapping out an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel just to break it up, he heard him sigh.

“Hey, I promise it won’t be lame. Yeah, it’s not for everybody, but…”

He stopped talking when he saw John place his head in his hand. Covering his eyes, Sharky heard the catch in his breathing, and wished like hell he had the right words for him.

Unable to offer anything else, Sharky shifted his eyes back to the road. 

“Yeah.”

—

“Now it ain’t fancy,” Sharky said after pulling up to his house, “but I’ve got a place to sleep. A rocking sound system, and when I need it, lots and lots of storage space for…stuff. Like real fun stuff, but not the illegal kind, ‘cause I don’t want you thinking that. Well, not a lot of it, just…some.”

John was looking around now, taking in the area as he and Sharky got out, and Sharky led him out across the lawn.

“My house is your house, so settle on in and pull up a chair. The show’ll start soon as I can get this all together, and make it a show worth waiting for.“

He shoved some wood into the area designated for his bonfires, and patted himself down before heading over to where he kept his propane. Rooting through the items, he picked up the bottle of lighter fluid – he’d start small, no need to have a full blow-out right off the bat – and glanced over his shoulder to see what John was doing.

He had approached the firepit while Sharky was busy; still silent, but looking closely at it.

“You doing good there, amigo?”

John’s head angled towards him. “Well enough.”

That he’d said anything at all was an improvement, but Sharky didn’t believe it for a second. Not with his back towards him, as he walked back towards the pit.

John watched closely as Sharky sprayed the wood liberally with the lighter fluid. Then added more after, and when he tipped it over to slap at the bottom of it to get the last few drops out, John finally spoke up. 

“You’re not serious.”

“Can’t have a decent barbeque without flames, man.”

“That many?”

The wry look he gave him stopped Sharky in his tracks. Or maybe it was the way the corner of John’s mouth was inching up. In spite of everything, he’d managed that at least, and Sharky felt his mouth go dry.  

“Uh, yeah.” He held out a matchbook to him, and hoped he could keep it steady. His voice was a lost cause, but his next few words were better in line. “Kinda disappointing if you light it up only to have it fizzle out. Can’t get any kinda perks out of that.”

“And this was your plan all along?” John’s odd semi-smile stayed in place, and only seemed to grow. “To invite me here to burn it off? Literally?”

He wasn’t wrong, but seeing as this was his usual go-to and yet not, Sharky didn’t want to really get into the nitty-gritty of it all. Not now, at least.

“You wanted out, and no other place in the county’s better prepped for this, so a quick ride to Boshaw Manor made sense. I know when shit’s gone south and there’s no hope of me shaking that feeling, this works, and I try to foster an environment here that’s all about letting loose when you need it. Pants-free preferred and encouraged, but by no means required.”

“Good to know,” John teased.

He hoped like hell John couldn’t clearly see what was happening with his face right now, but at this distance it was impossible not to.

“But you, uh… You seriously looked ready to rip a bear’s fucking head off, so I thought it’d help. So, here. Light it, and after we pop one off, maybe we can get more going. Kinda sad as is right now.”

Waving the matchbook in the air, he grumbled to himself as he dropped his eyes. But he felt John take the matches, and looked up again in time to see him light one.

John watched the flame dance in front of him for a few seconds, shielding it from the breeze with his hand. Leaning over to peek at it, Sharky nearly brushed shoulders with him, and wondered how long he was willing to hold onto it.

Pretty long at this rate, as the flames licked the wood and traveled up towards his fingers.

“You gonna drop that?”

“In time.”

“‘Cause that’s going to get you if you let it stick around any longer.”

Not that he hadn’t let himself get distracted by the warmth of it before. How it flickered as it moved, wanting it to move all that much closer as it climbed its way down towards him.

“Surely you don’t think I’m not paying attention to it.” Irritation was creeping into John’s voice, but he still wasn’t dropping it.

“Seriously, man, I can treat a rowdy-ass burn if I have to, but that shit’s going to bite.“

“Charlemagne, I have it handled-“ John flicked his hand fast as he yelped in pain.

The match went out, leaving the two standing there in front of the neglected pit. Sharky tried not to, but there was no way he could keep the laugh from slipping out. John’s sharp look shut him up a second later, only breaking eye contact to keep on waving his hand.

“Yo, you okay?”

“Fuck,” John muttered, blowing on his fingers. “Everything’s fine.”

Sharky didn’t nudge him with his shoulder, but was tempted to as he watched John continue to try and sooth the burn. 

“Sure about that? I can be back in two shakes of a jackrabbit’s tail if you want.”

John didn’t waste time lighting the next match. “I’m fine.”

His hands went up, backing off completely. But at that point he had something else to focus on. The fire was dancing in the wind again, and when John let the match fall into the pit, Sharky didn’t take his eyes off of it for a second.

The warm glow took, then grew. Rising slowly but surely as the fire found its footing, and he let out the breath he was holding. There it was. The feeling that washed over him, one that sank down deep into his bones.

Like coming home, in a way. Every time.

Sighing in contentment, he gave John a quick once-over. His attention was on the fire too, locked onto it as he slowly rubbed his fingers together. No one ever seemed to respond to it like he did, but the focus was there, his eyebrows drawn together as he kept on studying it.

John still kept on rubbing at his fingers, though. Sharky had to bother the singed one, even if he was too stubborn to bring it up again.

He stepped back, and gave John a light tap to the shoulder. 

“Be right back. Gotta grab something.”

Jogging over to his house, he pushed open the door and made a beeline straight for his bathroom. Anything he had for first aid was scattered across the property if not left outside, so one minute became two, then became five as he rooted around the place.

Fishing the tube of burn cream out, he sighed in relief.

It had taken the edge off of some of his worst ones - the scars on his sides and back tingling as he subconsciously recalled them. Considering how often he tangoed with fire at all, he’d all but accepted it at this point, and was glad that John wasn’t rocking anything worse than what would be a light blister.

Band-aids were down to slim pickings, however. There were only five left, but he picked the best fit and made his way back out to the pit, taking a short stop by the fridge for beer and one hastily-filled glass of tap water.

Water was the last thing on his mind most nights, but John needed something out there, and Sharky tried not to stress over it too much as he rushed back out.

John started when he handed it over. 

“What’s this?” He took the glass, and eyed its contents.

“Water. You know, for drinking?” A sheepish grin inched across Sharky’s face as he made the motion with his hand. “Didn’t want to leave you hanging without anything, and my fridge’s full up with beer, so…”

“Ah. Thank you,” he said, losing the suspicious tone immediately. He took a light sip of it and Sharky didn’t miss the way he wrinkled his nose. Probably better used to the fancy stuff they’d filter before bottling, but John still held onto it. Doing that instead of spitting it out onto the ground earned him a point or two on the ‘Don’t be an asshole’ scoreboard, but Sharky would never admit it to him.

“And those?” John asked.

“I know you said you were fine, but here.” Sharky handed the items to him, and John set his glass down. “Best stuff for burns around. Slap some of this on, and in a day you won’t even feel it.”

“Are those…dinosaurs?” John held the bandage up, flashing the green tyrannosaurus rex at him.  

“Yeah, man. Dinosaurs are badass. I don’t know if Jurassic Park was your thing or not, but I had that on repeat for a good three months after it came out. Solid gold right there, and great for hand-holding or grabbing during any tense shit.” He held his hand up as he leaned in, and waggled his eyebrows. “Guaranteed. Like sixty to seventy-five percent chance of getting some action too.”

John furrowed his brows, and kept the band-aid pinched between his fingers. Both unimpressed and unconvinced, which disappointed Sharky a little, but didn’t surprise him much either.

“Anyway, that was the first one I grabbed, but I think there’s another in there if you’re more of a triceratops fan. Or raptors?”

John slowly shook his head. “I’ve-I don’t have a preference.”

“Well, there you go. And I know you like blue and all, but green’s clearly the superior color here. Just saying.” 

He clapped him on the back, and John gave him a withering glance before putting it on.

Dragging over a couple of chairs, Sharky popped them close to the pit - but not close enough to catch any sparks - and settled in. He kicked back and wished he could’ve propped his feet up, but with the other chair in use he had to make do, and leaned as far back as the worn fabric would let him - hoping he wasn’t about to bust a hole in it.

“…How did this start?”

Glancing over at John, Sharky sat up when he realized he’d asked him a question. 

“What?”

“How, or when did you start doing this? The fires? Or, whatever this ritual is.”

“Ritual? This ain’t anything fancy like that.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Sharky let out a long whistle. “But fuck, how many years has it been now?”

Well over twenty. Since that day when he’d had skating on his mind - that and Wendy. He’d had such high hopes going into the day only to find a whole other thing worth keeping on for.

“Would you believe my first time was at a skating rink? That old place that used to be down by Fall’s End. Neon lights, tricked out wallpapers, and all the oldies you could ask for?”

“Concerning you? Yes.”

John sounded so sure of it. Like he could see the memory just as clearly as Sharky did. That got a warm laugh out of him.

“Imagining that sticky carpet, the flat soda, and those tunes? Real nice, right? It was the highlight of my month. Getting invited out there, pulling off some of my finest moves out on the floor. But I had to set the mood before heading in, and had a roll of quarters ready and everything.”

A grin settled in, almost fond as he recalled the start of it. The promise had been there, all right. He’d finally get a chance to say something. Do something, instead of dreaming about it. Funny how he’d dive into so many other things without thinking, but this? This he’d thought about. Over and over. Wanted it right.

“So?” John’s voice cut through again, shaking him out of it. “What happened?”

“I really wanted to ask this girl Wendy out. Had some good one-liners going. Had watched plenty of movies beforehand that I knew she liked. Wanted to really wow her, and show her what’s what.”

That had been the first pass of the plan. It seemed foolproof. Then he’d reached the rink he’d after crammed one too many quarters in the jukebox. Took one good look at her as he skated up, and…

John’s growing frown mirrored his own. Maybe even too well.

“It, uh-it didn’t go like I wanted. Went with my gut once I saw her, and thought I’d just -my hands started going everywhere.”

Confused, John thought over his words, and Sharky hoped he wouldn’t have to spell it out.

 “You grabbed her?”

“I…might’ve grabbed something.”

Realization hit John hard. 

“You groped her?”

“Like I said, it could’ve gone a lot better! Instincts being bad and all.” Dodging his eyes, Sharky held up his hands and faced the fire. “Look, it was a dumbass move, and I got a skate to the balls for it. Still, really wish I’d tried dancing instead. No way she would’ve turned down a date with a dude pulling off a solid moonwalk. On wheels.”

“Surely,” John huffed.

Flipping him off, Sharky sighed before continuing. 

“So, I head out back. Figure I could light up a cig or something. Take the edge off. Well, figured I’d light a trash can on fire too. See if I liked it, and soon the whole damn back-alley’s on fire. Like burning high with no hope of stopping. It spread, took half of the place out in the process, and yeah, it sucked. But it sucked a whole lot less after seeing that.”

“That was…not the story I was expecting it to be.”

“Lot of people say that after hearing it. And that’s all of like, three people that even bothered listening while I was telling it, but it is what it is. Sucks that it took out that place, though. Seriously, had a great sound system there and everything.”

John raised a hand to his mouth, eyes on the fire instead of on him, and smiled. 

“Thank you. You didn’t need to share that with me.”

“Eh, it’s nothing. You asked, and I told you what’s what.”

“Not everyone’s as comfortable doing that. And certainly not even half as honest.” John folded his hands on his lap, and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “It was Joseph. Tonight, back at my ranch. Wanted to talk. This typically isn’t a problem, but he decided to do what all older brothers believe is their right, I suppose.”  

“What, like go over some fantasy football stats? Or more like rite-of-passage-type stuff, ‘cept the holy kind. ‘Cause he’s not gonna take you to a cathouse, or nothing.”

“Please never say that again,” John said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Uh, which part? The football, or the…er, the part where he’s trying to help you get laid, except not?”

“That one. You see, he wanted to talk expectations. My role in the family overall, and how he wants me to rise to them.”

“That’s uh, kinda harsh. Assuming he said some pretty rowdy shit to you.”

“Not all of it,” John admitted, “but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Usually when talking about regrets and hopes for the future, not all parties will be on the same page. He was on one, and I the other, and…I didn’t handle it as gracefully as I would’ve liked.”

“But did you think he was right?”

“I don’t know. It’s too soon to say, and I’m still not inclined to agree considering how he presented it to me.”

“But you know why he did that, right?”

John’s eyes were on the fire, but caught his when he turned away from it. 

“Do you have any siblings?

Sharky shook his head. “Uh, no. Parents never planned for any of that, and they sure as hell weren’t planning on me. I’m one of those miracle babies. The kind that defy expectation, if you will. They swore up and down they’d used the pill, bagged that shit, and tried damn near everything to keep from throwing a bun in that oven. Still, nine months and some change later I popped out. Was as meant to be as my Grandmama swore I was, and…it’s weird in a way. Knowing that, and still knowing the other end of it too.”

“That you weren’t wanted?”

John was looking at him differently now. Catching something he wasn’t sure Sharky would see even after checking five times in the mirror, and didn’t seem as cagey as before.

“I had someone that did want me. Wasn’t the one that had me to begin with, but that’s alright. Family’s not always blood - not directly. I got Hurk, I got my Auntie. Maybe even Xander, if she plans on keeping him around, but they give a shit about what happens to me. Let me know at least once a week too if they ain’t too busy to stop by, so it’s gotta be nice in some ways. Having brothers. Having that, at least.”

Taking in a deep breath, Sharky didn’t know how to tackle this next part. Knew he was probably going to be like a bull in a china shop, but he’d try. He had to.

“Now I don’t know enough about you all to really say much, so tell me to fuck right off if you need me to, but…they seem like the caring kind. Even though Joe’s got his whole family unit going on - his weird, not-a-cult but kind-of-a-cult aside. And Jake’ll always give me the creeps, but I feel like you’d also warn me if he was setting me up to head out into the woods and fight me - mano a mano, ‘Most Dangerous Game’ style - so I think we’d be all right.”

“He’s not, and they’re not,” John replied. “And maybe it isn’t your place to say.”

That shut his mouth. 

“…Sorry.”

“But I think you’re right.” Shifting his gaze to the ground, his next few words were softer, almost too quiet to hear. “Both of my brothers are all I have in this life. The ones that I would do anything for, and for years we truly thought we’d lost each other. There was no finding our way back after being separated and sent to different families. Different homes.

John flexed his fingers, stretching them out before tightening them into a fist.

“I…was not fortunate in that regard. While I now had many opportunities open to me, I would’ve traded them in a heartbeat. Because there was evil in that house, and it was regularly visited upon me. And to cope, I needed an outlet. A way to take away what I couldn’t fix. What I couldn’t change, or stop, and make it all disappear.

“So, I turned to other sources. Went well out of my way to open myself up to new experiences. Things to excite, to make me feel…something. Anything, and no price was too great. I couldn’t see it for what it was, and was content to let it all eat me from the inside out. Because that was what gave me relief, and if they hadn’t found me when I needed them most…” John shrugged a shoulder. “I would’ve let it.”

“Fuck, I-uh, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I didn’t share that to make you feel sorry for me, or to let it be an excuse. It was a little…honesty given, for honesty gained, if that makes any sense.”

Blowing out a breath, Sharky nodded. 

“Kinda. Think I get what you mean there.”

“And tonight, you were right. I needed an outlet, and you… You reached out to me without even thinking twice about it.” There was a sincerity there that surprised him. No dancing around it, no downplaying it. “You had no reason to open up your home to me, or do anything at all to help me, but you did.”

“No reason not to.”

“Charlemagne. I haven’t given you much reason to do any of this, considering why we’re speaking at all to begin with.”

John had a point. One he wasn’t going to argue, but he’d clearly overlooked a lot of the things he’d done to keep them on speaking terms. Or hell, even get friendly. Because they were straddling that line, and had been ever since he’d stuck around to help him with the plane.

Sharky didn’t mind it. Not like he used to, and he’d accepted that.

“Okay, so you did show up here on my doorstep. Used some strong words to get me to do some shit for you, and generally acted like a mega-dick. Admitting that’s the first step towards fixing it. ‘Cause my guess’s you wanna fix that, right?”

John pursed his lips, but said nothing. Just stared at him while his jaw tensed.

That had Sharky raising his eyebrows.

 “Dude, you seriously aren’t even gonna pretend to say yes to that? Not even try it?”

Glancing away, John closed his eyes. Took in a deep breath, and held onto it before sighing loudly.

“What the fuck?” Sharky muttered, watching him reach for his back pocket. “There’re like baby steps, and then you come in with this whole twelve step thing you’ve gotta work through, like it’s just that hard not to be a colossal d-”

“Done.”

Sharky paused as he took in what John held up. It was his phone.

Rolling his eyes at his confused look, John handed it over to him and pointed at the screen. 

“It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?” He flipped through the folder John had pulled up, not sure what he was looking for. “Like the porn you knew I was gonna search for after taking this?”

“No, not that,” John replied, grinding his teeth. “The recording.”

“The…” Holy shit. “You got rid of it. Like, no back up, no nothing?”

“That was the only one.”

Gone. That weight - what was left of it - gone.

Sharky laughed. Laughed as relief settled deep into him, and it was the sweetest thing.

Sure, John could’ve been lying to him. Could’ve had three different places where he was stashing the video for a rainy day, but he found he believed him. He wanted to take his word for it, and found he didn’t have to jump through too many hoops for it.

“That’s-that’s uh, thanks.”

“Thank you. For proving me wrong in a lot of ways.”

Proud motherfucker that he was, that statement nearly bowled Sharky over. But he seemed to mean it too, and he flashed him a bashful grin.

“So, uh going back to before. You need to be cool to others. Treat ‘em nice, especially if you know they’re in the middle of a rough patch, and you count too. You needed something to take the edge off, and with drinking out, there were only two options left. Sex, and burning shit, and seeing as I don’t even know what your type is, I went for the easy one.”

Giving him a curious look, John leaned towards him. 

“But what is my type?”

“You want me to guess?”

“I want you to try.”

That was a tougher question than it should’ve been, and all the answers Sharky thought he had promptly left the building.

“Uh…fuck. The ladies in the catalogs. Victoria’s Secret models. Sports Illustrated, but the swimsuit issue. Porn stars. Top dollar escorts,” he said, spit-balling for whatever a rich lawyer might like. Or Bruce Wayne. Same difference. “But the kind with nice shoes, and those big-ass fur coats.”

Or was he going more for what he’d like if he had boatloads of cash to blow? And a music video to make? Maybe. Judging by the look John was giving him, though, he didn’t agree.

“Jesus, I don’t know. You asked! So I guessed. Thought I’d get something close if I kept on going.”

“Well, you weren’t.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sharky took a drink of his beer, and couldn’t help but grumble his next few words into it. “And you’re telling me you wouldn’t be dicking down every woman in the valley if they asked? I know I would.”

“You’d what?”

He coughed, beer going right down his windpipe. That was the kind of shit that should’ve slipped out when he was buzzed, and he wasn’t even there yet.  

“Aw, fuck. Uh, sorry. Didn’t…didn’t mean anything weird by it. Just that you’ve got a lot of women looking - er, wanting - some real one-on-one time with you, that’s all. And if I were you, I’d take them up on it.”

John snorted.  

“Is that so?”

“I’m serious!” Sharky insisted, flashing an awkward grin. “Not to do any ego-jerking or anything, but you’re a good-looking guy, dude. Who’d blame ‘em for trying?”

He’d meant to look away after that, but John held his stare. Gave him a look that was like a Rubik’s Cube, and the more Sharky tried to pin down exactly what it was, the more he kept on scrambling anything and everything just to match up a single side.

“I see.” John wet his lips, dropping his eyes to his bandaged finger as he rubbed it together with his thumb. “I’d hate to keep them waiting any longer than I already have. Or to disappoint them, but a few may need to wait their turn.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Because surely their male counterparts deserve a turn as well? Seems only fair.”

John lowered his lashes as he looked over at him this time around, and Sharky must’ve blinked at him fifty times before his words registered.

“Oh. Oh,” he said, watching John nod his head along with him. “Well, it’s uh, I’m a…I don’t think I got anything right there, huh?”

Face burning hot, he crossed his arms and felt like kicking himself. Mostly for the whole conversation leading up to this, but now was a close second.

“Hard to be right about something you didn’t know.”

“Saying weird-ass shit to you’s not cool to begin with. Expecting a pity pass for it’s worse, and then there’s whatever the fuck this is, so…I’m sorry. It’s lame as fuck, but I’ve gotta get an apology out at least. And it’s probably the last thing you wanna hear or talk about, but you do whatever the hell makes you happy, long as no one’s getting hurt or nothing,” he said, struggling to get the words out, even if they weren’t neat. “And, we uh, we can talk about something else now.”

John laughed, the sound lighter than he expected. 

“Uncomfortable?”

“No. Kinda. Just…I’m not a talker. If you need someone to head on up, make a speech using all of the right words - making it pretty and all - you don’t go busting down my door. ‘Cause there’s ways of saying things, so it’s all meaningful and nice with no hurt feelings involved. Shit, you’ve made a whole career out of it.”

Sharky tapped the bottle against his shin, and sighed.

“When I open my mouth, people usually start throwing stuff at me instead of listening. Beer, shoes, lawn ornaments, darts, you name it. I’ve dodged it. Or had someone try to hit me in the junk for it, so thanks for not doing that. And sorry again. Probably say that a couple more times before the night’s out.”

“…Hitting you would be the last thing on my mind. I promise you that.”

Dead serious, he wasn’t sure what to make of John’s tone, or the way he was looking at him.

So, after downing the rest of his beer, Sharky went for the next best thing. Nervous laughter, and more blushing like an idiot. He’d never stop at this rate.

Rubbing his hands together, he hopped up out of his seat after that. Too intense to stare down for long, he put some distance between them and hunted down the first major firework of the evening.

“Okay, so this one I usually save for the festies,” he began, carrying it over in his hands. “It’s my own personal formula. Ran through it a few times trying to see if I could get the right amount of fizz, bang, and pop that everybody loves without losing a finger, an eye, or most of my hair again.”

“Did you now?” John snorted. “It’s a miracle it grew back.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I need to keep this around,” Sharky replied, framing his jaw with his hand. The wink was extra, but that didn’t stop him. “Chicks dig guys with a little scruff to ‘em. The look’s ‘sexy renegade’, but the kind that’ll still treat you right.”

“No doubt.” Looking him over, John tilted his head as he considered him. Let his attention focus in on him closely, until Sharky was on the verge of snapping his fingers in front of him to break the spell he’d somehow cast. “It suits you.”

John could’ve slapped him, and it would’ve been less of a surprise than that.

“Say what?”

“It suits you. Keep it to that, though. Any more and I think you’re guaranteed to lose more than an eyebrow the next time any of this backfires.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure?”

In the back of his mind he registered John’s statement – an actual compliment which only confused him further – but didn’t get much further than that. That’s when he caught the smile John was now wearing. This one he’d earned for sure, and didn’t want to risk losing.  

Kicking his brain back into gear, Sharky blew out a breath. “So, uh…let’s see. Lighting this up, so we can have one kick-ass party. Just getting right on that shit.”

The red rocket was stabbed into the ground to the left of the pit, and Sharky handed off his lighter to John. He still had the matches from earlier, but this way was easier.

When all he did was give him a questioning glance, Sharky flicked his eyes towards the rocket. 

“Yo, you know this whole thing’s for you, right?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. So, you kick it off. I’ve got a firework in every color, though you might want to aim them all over yonder. Nearly lit the field up straight ahead of here last time, and my PO and I ain’t gonna see eye to eye on this if another starts. Cool?”

Dropping his attention to the lighter, John reached for it. Turned it over in his hands as the corners of his mouth curved up, and eventually aimed some of that glance his way.

“Cool.”

—

“Red, huh? Not bothering to change that up?”

“I had my heart set on red. Before I hadn’t thought much of it, but…maybe I was a little more fond of it, than I thought.”

“You could change that now if you want.” Sharky pried open the paint can with a spare screwdriver, and handed it off. “Go for something different, but still memorable. Like orange, or yellow.”

John’s lip curled. “Yellow?”

“Yeah. Banana yellow, or shit, bright purple.”

“I was taking your opinion on this seriously, you know. Up until the word ‘banana’ slipped out.”

“Heh, slipped.” John’s flat look only made Sharky snicker more. “But can you name five things, like well-known landmarks that are yellow?” John opened his mouth, but Sharky didn’t let him finish. “And green’s my go-to, ride-or-die color, but yellow? Two thumbs up.”

“So you say.”

“It’s just the kind of thing that’ll net you a bunch of admirers. Numbers ripe for the picking. ‘Cause it’s, you know. Oozing all of that appeal. Like peel, as in a banana.”

John let out an exasperated groan, and Sharky might’ve punched the air. Maybe harder than intended.

“You did not.”

“I did. Don’t think I won’t find a way to do it again. It’s the Boshaw way,” Sharky replied with a wink.

Rolling his eyes, John huffed. “I hate you.”

The two dipped the paint rollers into his chosen red and started spreading it. Painting wide red lines over the wood as they took them up the sides from top to bottom. The patches weren’t going to be done in a single coat, but each one streaked. Made Sharky’s job harder for him as he laid the paint on thick, only for John to try and correct him.

His pointed betrayal when the next five strokes didn’t come out just perfect as he claimed they would, had Sharky cracking up on the spot. 

“Nobody’s perfect,” he offered, but John kept on trying over and over until he was able to make it work.

It was hot for a late-fall day, though. Or maybe it was just the combination of the sun and the work, but he was sweating. Needing some other way to cool off than the water stashed in the cooler with them, Sharky stepped back, only to catch a view of the river.

Now that was a source guaranteed to cool him off fast.

Taking his shirt off, Sharky mopped his face with it, eyeing the water. Stared at it just long enough for the internal battle in him to be fought and won, and he made his choice.

Balling his shirt up, he took a shot for the table nearby, and missed it completely. Missed it with his hat afterwards too, but the wind threw him off there; whipped under the hat only to send it flying off elsewhere and Sharky watched it tumble onto the grass.

John raised an eyebrow. 

“What are you doing?”

“Going for a swim.” Undoing his belt, Sharky slid it off and tossed it to the side. “Seriously, the water at this time of year’s gotta be perfect. Just cold enough to shock the system, but not enough to send you straight to the hospital.”

That had John shaking his head at him.

“Guess we’ll agree to disagree here, compadre, but you tell me that ain’t looking the slightest bit nice.”

His pants came off right after, and to John’s credit his eyes didn’t leave his face. 

“It might.”

“Well, between you and me? Might’ll do just fine,” Sharky said, smirking at him.

Shedding his shoes, he went right for it. Didn’t think anything at all of how cold it was looking to be, and dove into the water. The sharp temperature difference hit almost immediately, making his teeth chatter once he surfaced; the chill of it washing right over him.

But the longer he was out there, the less it bothered him - taking the edge off in just the way he hoped. It was a great feeling, and he kept paddling around close to the pier before noticing that John hadn’t taken his word for it. Not that he’d expected him to, but that didn’t mean some friendly peer pressure was out.

Sharky reached up to snag the end of the pier and hoisted himself up. Resting on his forearms as John walked to the end to join him, he tapped a fist against the wood.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Hell yeah,” he replied, grinning up at him. “Seriously. You wanna cool off quick? This does it.”

John tapped his fingers on his thigh as he stood there, and actually looked like he was considering it. He crouched down to better talk to him, still more than a few feet higher overall.

 “I’ll take your word for it, but I have a feeling you’re just trying to give me a nasty shock.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Because I can hear your teeth chattering from here.”

Snapping his mouth shut, Sharky rubbed at his lips and tossed a glare John’s way. Then an idea hit. One that had him trying not to grin behind his fingers, and dropped the smile before lowering it.

“Fine, it’s like ten degrees colder than I’d like, but still doable. Just not for longer than like, five minutes at a time. Got a hand for me?” He reached up to John, and he didn’t hesitate to take it. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Keeping his fingers clasped around his forearm, John tried to help him up, but he stayed put. 

“What are you…?”

Shock flashed across John’s face as Sharky pulled hard, yanking him right off the dock and into the water.

The water closed over John’s head. Cut him off from both sound and light, leaving him only to the sound of his breath. His thoughts too, but those never really left him. Not for long, at least.

It was hard to see with what he’d kicked up, but something glinted as it floated down. Something metal, and Sharky snatched up the discarded set of sunglasses before they vanished from sight.

Dropping low, he pushed back up and broke the surface just as a sputtering John did. Coughing, and half-blinded by his hair, John bobbed in place dipping low only when tried swiping his hair back, and Sharky whooped.

“Badass right? But you know what they say? Ain’t no time like-”

The sharp look John’s eyes shut him up instantly. Swimming past him, he went straight for shore, and Sharky hesitated only long enough to realize he should’ve been following. He hit land right on John’s heels and watched as he swiped his hair back, drenched to the bone.

“Yo, John, I uh. I’m really sorry. I didn’t think it’d be anything bad or nothing. Just wanted to share a, uh…fuck.”

Turning towards him, John’s expression was perfectly schooled. Calmer than he’d been out on the water, but his eyes didn’t let up, and Sharky was frozen to the spot. He tilted his head, and the motion brought a strip of hair down, moving it out of place only for it to slap him on the nose.

John flinched. Reached up slowly to glance down at what was held between his fingers, only for his mouth to split into a brilliant grin. Covering it with his hand, he started to laugh, continuing until his entire body was shaking.

“You didn’t think through that at all, did you?”

Sharky watched him carefully. Still not sure if it was safer for him to join in or run. “I, uh. Think through what now?”

“You wanted to share a what with me?”

“Share a…like, share a good idea.”

Tutting him, John’s grin quickly became a smirk. 

“I distinctly recall hearing you say something a little more suggestive.”

“Share a good idea, not like share a…oh.” Oh, he was not serious. “Th-that’s you thinking that!” Sharky replied, his voice strained, “I just…remember how I said you were a talker? And how I can put both feet in my mouth and keep on running? Well, yeah. That’s what that was. Me, running. ‘Cept it was my mouth doing it.”

“But that may not have been the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Still scrambled, Sharky wasn’t sure at all what thread they were following now. “Uh, wait, what?”

“The swim.” John straightened his posture, all while trying to brush his hair back into place, and his smirk only grew. “Almost too refreshing in a way, and well worth the cost of doing so.”

Reaching into his pocket, John held up his phone. His very expensive, and now very dead phone, and déjà vu hit Sharky all over again.

“Don’t,” John said, interrupting the rush of thoughts early, “I needed to replace it anyway. Those, however. I’d prefer not to.”

Looking down, Sharky took in the sunglasses clenched in his hand. John’s fancy blue-lensed sunglasses, that had only survived due to a miracle alone.

John gestured towards the sunglasses, and curved a finger to guide him forward. “I’ll take them back now.”

The idea hit before he’d even taken the first step.

Sharky held them out only to slip them on, blinking against the sudden wave of blue. “This pair’s mighty nice. Might’ve been eying a new pair of glasses myself.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Those are five-hundred dollar custom made specialty sunglasses.”

“Guess you want them back bad then, don’t you?” Sliding a hand behind his ear, Sharky flicked the sunglasses up and down a few times over his eyes, and didn’t bother hiding the smirk crossing his face, “‘Fraid I’ll mess ‘em up, Johnny boy?”

The nickname got the reaction he’d hoped for. John sharpened the glare until it was made of nothing but intent. That sent a thrill through him; one he was going to ride for all it was worth.

He spread his hands wide, and motioned towards himself as he stepped back, “Well? You waiting for an invite or something?”

Then Sharky promptly cheezed it towards the woods.

Running through the brush wasn’t the best choice. Doing it without his sneakers wasn’t a great option either, but he’d already dedicated himself to seeing this through, and judging from the sound behind him, John was too.

Good. He’d almost be disappointed if he got away.

Ducking into spot by a nearby bush, Sharky glanced around, the shades throwing him off enough to shove them up onto his head, and knew John had the advantage here. He had shoes, could see clearly, and was too stubborn to quit.

It didn’t matter that he was though. So was he, and there was no way he’d give up now with John so close.

Sneaking, though, had never been his forte, and crashing through this, he’d left a good trail to follow. Breaking and snapping everything he could’ve collided with or trudged through along the way, had generated all sorts of noise. Shit, feeling less and less like the Predator and more like one of the guys about to be skinned by it, he settled in and barely held back from slapping dirt onto himself for any form of camo.

Though, wait. Maybe he did have the right idea there. Just grab some mud and branches, tuck in real nice and close to one of these trees with his back to it, facing out so he could see into the forest as a whole. Maybe throw some leaves into it-

Popping up behind him, John’s grin went devious in a snap. 

“What have we here?”

“Oh, fuck!“

He jumped up only to feel a weight slam into him. John really wasn’t messing around, and he swore to himself as he tried to wriggle out of his hold and crawl away. John’s hands slipped due to his wet skin and his lack of clothes period, but he wasn’t budging. No, he stayed on him, and Sharky mentally upgraded him from stubborn as hell to stubborn as fuck.

He was also busy trying not to think about just how okay he was wrestling a guy in his underwear like this. John was warm up against his back, but that had nothing on the way he was practically panting into his ear. It sent a shiver straight through him and he hoped like hell this wouldn’t be the time he’d decide to pop a boner.

Because one, awkward. Two, his tighty-whiteys weren’t going to hide shit. And three, John.

John wasn’t supposed to be in the same category as those chicks from the music videos he loved watching, those two ladies that he really wished he’d sealed the deal with a month back, Grace snapping off a shot during Nick’s 4th of July bash, or Mary May.

But here he was, thinking about it, and couldn’t find a solid reason to shoot it down. Well, not as solid a reason as he’d thought, apparently. Cause him not being that into dudes was supposed to cover that, but not even that held as much water as it used to. Not anymore.

Fuck. Fuck his luck.  

“Now, now,” John hissed. “It doesn’t do either of us any good if what we’re both seeking ends up breaking. Especially now. Don’t you agree?”

He threw his hands up. “Okay, fine! Fine! Uncle, just…let me flip over so I don’t end up eating dirt while I’m at it.”

The glasses had fallen down over his eyes in the struggle, and when John backed off enough for him to turn over, he found himself staring up at him. Blue on blue, the lenses really didn’t do his eyes justice. Not one bit.

“Do you yield?”

Sharky flipped him off with both hands.

“Now Charlemagne, be reasonable. I don’t think you’re in a position to argue.”

“Look, I could find a position for any occasion,” And under John looked to be one of them, but he bit his tongue on that, “but uh, we gonna parley this?”

“Parley?” John laughed, “I don’t think there’s much to negotiate here, but if you simply hand them over, perhaps I could be convinced to be merciful.”

He really wished John would shut his mouth. Or say something other than his usual spiel, because suddenly finding that hot was becoming a problem. Fast.

Grumbling, he reached for the sunglasses and held them up.

“Whatever. Just take ‘em.”

John snapped them up, holding them high before sliding them back onto his head. Like a small crown as a triumphant smile slid onto his face.

“Ah, reunited at last.”

“Yeah, yeah. You won, whatever.”

Setting his hand back down to the right of Sharky’s head, John sighed. 

“You, my friend, never know when to quit.”

“Hey, you’re the one that ran a half-naked dude through the woods, and tackled his ass to the ground over a pair of sunglasses. Classic case of the pot calling the kettle black, yo.”

“Please,” John rolled his eyes, but was smiling warmly, “this was encouraged. Don’t deny it.”

Sharky returned it, liking how it took the edge off of him. It always did, but he usually let it fade fast. Like he’d blink and miss it, and wouldn’t have had any clue he’d done it to begin with.

Not this time. John kept that smile, aiming it right at him, and he couldn’t look away if he tried.

“Who said I was?” Sharky replied, his voice deeper. Rougher.

Opening his mouth to respond, John paused. Let his smile curve into something different as it took on an edge he liked, and waited. Watched him back just as closely now.

Sharky heard the leaves move as John shifted, leaning down. But, he tuned it all out. Focused only on John as he came within a breath of him, hovering in place as he took in every last detail on his face. 

“Prove me wrong then,” John whispered.

So, Sharky did exactly what his gut told him to do. No mind paid at all to the voice in the back of his head, or how hard his heart was pounding in his chest.

Leaning up, he touched his lips to John’s.

They were cool. Cool and soft as he held the kiss, not wanting to break it.

Nothing happened at first. Above him, John stayed in place, frozen. But he didn’t withdraw. That’s when it clicked. The actual act sinking in, and John’s eyelids fluttered shut.

Angling his head, his mouth moved against his. Applied more pressure bit by bit, as Sharky breathed in through his nose. It was slow. Careful as neither drew back, or wanted air between them.

Sharky reached up for him, placing a hand on his side as John let more of his weight shift onto him. Pulled him closer, focusing on how warm he felt, even through his wet clothes.

And the brush of John’s fingertips along his jaw, got the first real sound out of him. A low moan, almost lost, but not ignored. Not when he felt John’s tongue run along his lips, and opened his mouth to him right after.

“-ohn? Brother John?”

John’s sharp inhale cut through the fog. Going still, he drew back, blue eyes wide open and staring directly at him.

There was a laugh in the distance. It joined the other voices as they called out, one more familiar than the others, and all asked for one person. John.

Staring up at him, up at John, he swallowed hard.

John was off of him soon after. The sunglasses hit the leaves by him, forgotten, and Sharky sat up as John paced a short track away from him.

Scrubbing his hair back, John let out a rough breath. “I have to- Joseph needs me to…” His voice trailed off as he turned towards him. But when their eyes met, there was no mistaking it. The pained look that crossed him, holding fast.  “I’m sorry.”

He turned and left, heading off.

Stunned, Sharky sat there for a good five minutes, unmoving. Grabbing the glasses, he considered them for a second, staring off in the direction John went as his stomach twisted. The feeling brewing there digging at him, both hurt and frustrated.

Because he’d known what he’d wanted to happen there. What he’d let himself hope for as John drew close enough to touch, and he’d later drink himself stupid that night by the firepit trying to drown it all out.

He’d always been full of ideas. Both good and bad, with most leaning towards the latter.

So, maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all that he’d wanted to kiss him. It was easily his worst idea yet.

—

The first time Sharky worked up the nerve to kiss someone, he figured his luck was golden. Kristi, middle school, cool even with the braces, he’d impressed her with a few spare action figures and some of the extra snacks from his lunch. Talked her ear off more than once, and even had her respond with more than a nod, and an ‘uh huh’ or ‘okay’ to it too.

He had the moment planned out from the start, working up his nerve to pull it off only to get half a sandwich tossed at him mid-go. That, and some applesauce, and having to sit through the rest of the day with stained and sticky clothes  had been the cherry on top of the shit sundae he’d made.

He’d thought the situation had been read right. Thought she’d been into him even if he was just a dumbass kid in bad need of a word (or five) breaking down why assuming that was bad – makes you less of an ass that way – and tried not to feel too broken up about it at the time. He could always pick himself back up and try again later.

Now, was no exception.

Because of course he’d want to see just what it’d take to get another smile from John, no matter how much he kept his mouth running to do so. To have John seek him out to talk, not just because he was there, but because he wanted to. To share more about himself, what he liked, what he loved. What mattered.

He wanted those things; liked earning them, knowing he’d been the one to make him smile like that. Laugh like that. Wanted to tap into the warm feeling he’d finally linked to, flowing through him again and again.  

So maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him when the other urge hit, saying to kiss the hell out of him. To do it as many times as John would let him, just to hear him react to it.

To earn that. To know he had.

That was an idea he could be okay with. He might’ve even let himself think he’d earned it that day too, long enough to see what it tasted like.

And yeah. He did like it. He liked it a whole hell of a lot.

Liked it, and John, and was full-on content to keep on kissing him even with the twig under him jabbing him in the ass.

But it wasn’t his call to make. Not alone, and when John pulled back he’d known on some level he’d fucked up.

Enough to know a sad 2 AM text wasn’t going to cut it, but he still sent it. Still tried calling at least once even if stammering out an apology wasn’t much better, but he got nothing. No response, no real acknowledgment, just radio silence.

Maybe he’d earned that too. 

That, and the news that Joseph had slapped him with when he decided to head over and work anyway.

Two weeks.

John was going to be gone for two weeks - he had to fly out for work, and they’d needed him there for a few meetings that couldn’t be handled otherwise.

Joe wasn’t rude about it, even welcomed him warmly once he got through the whole shuffling and awkward rambling on the doorstep bit, half launching into a speech that he was able to cut off before it got too personal too fast.

But Joe still had to tell him at least two more times for it to finally sink in, and the reassuring tone he used didn’t help one bit.

Because he knew what it was like to be avoided, to know that his piss-poor attempts at apologies really had to have fallen flat for John to cut out without any notice like that. And maybe he’d had a delay in replacing his phone – another thing of his he’d managed to wreck – but there were other ways he could’ve reached out to him.

With nothing to go off of, Sharky could’ve picked anything, or everything that he’d messed up, knowing him. So with his thoughts pinging back and forth with a vengeance he did the only thing he could do at the moment.

Work. 

Pitching the schedule completely, he came by when he wanted, aware that the days were passing, but trying not to consciously tick them down while doing so. He worked his ass off and blared enough disco into his eardrums to ensure nothing else could get through.  

That’s how he started off this particular day, at least. Singing along loudly, throwing more paint up in lines that would’ve had John complaining next to him and pointing out what to do as he ‘helped’, and the pang he felt from it wasn’t funny at all.

Because it meant he missed that shit too, and that? That was bad.

“This fucking sucks,” he muttered, and brought the roller down only to squeeze his eyes shut before the splatter hit, “fucking sucks.”

Lowering his headphones, he grabbed for the rag hanging out of his back pocket, and tried to wipe the paint off of his face.  It was during this that he caught movement in the distance. Coming down the path, the sunlight shone off of the spotless paint of the car, not a single scratch or dent on it in sight, and his heart jumped straight into his throat.

Scrubbing at the paint on him harder, he stashed the rag and wasn’t sure what the hell he was going for as he shuffled in place, but settled for staring thoughtfully at the wall in front of him. Wiped his hands on his shirt as he heard the door to the car open and close, and had no idea what the first word out of his mouth was going to be.

As it turns out, he didn’t say a thing. Just looked over at John as he walked up, dressed like a damn model himself, suit on with nowhere to go, and felt his face go a full three shades darker in color.

“Hmm,” John studied the building carefully, and tapped a finger on his chin, “you’ve been busy.”

“Uh, yeah,” that came out a little breathier than he would’ve liked, so Sharky cleared his throat and tried again, “yeah, dude. You’ve been gone for what, two weeks now? What did you think I was gonna do during that? Take a holiday?”

“Maybe,” John replied, “I’d have considered it. No responsibilities, no oversight. Not a care in the world.”

He hadn’t looked his way yet, focusing on the boathouse instead. Sharky folded his arms just to keep his hands still, and rocked back and forth on his feet, all while the music kept on playing by his ear. He also tried not to read too much into the whole ‘lack of oversight’ part, but failed.

John did turn after a few more minutes, his examination finally over, and walked up to him. His face neutral, everything perfectly in place, and Sharky couldn’t help but stare at him. 

“That settles it then,” John said.

“Settles what?”

“You’re done,” he replied coolly. “With the work you’ve put in, and the progress you’ve made, I believe your debt to me has been repaid.”

Everything screeched to a halt. His thoughts, the tapping he’d settled into, and his breath as he held it. 

“I don’t…you wanna say that again, amigo?”

John didn’t even bat an eye, “You’re free to go. Your help is no longer needed.”

That wasn’t right. The roof still needed work done, the paint was barely starting to dry, and he knew for a fact that this wasn’t finished; he’d stared at all of this with him long enough to know he had maybe a week and a half left, max.

But fine. Maybe he wanted him in another area. To switch to another project, and he latched right onto it.

“Well, you uh, you got anything else that you need help with? Think I told Joe I was going to-”

“No. I can manage it from here.”

That idea hadn’t even lasted a minute before John shot it dead.

And there it was, the hurt that dug right into his chest, and he let out a shaky breath as he worked around it.

He knew he wasn’t necessarily always going to be around here, but being cut loose like this hadn’t been a possibility he’d considered. Having John all but throw him out mid-job, due to screwing up along the line? Yes. Hell, he would’ve added time due to piss-poor performance, and all that talk of standards months back.

But having him pull this now? After working so well, for so long?

It stunned him bad enough to keep him from arguing it. He dragged his feet as he gathered up his things, loading them all into the trunk one by one as his disappointment started to hang over him like a cloud.

Sharky shut the trunk and gave John a tentative glance. He didn’t know if he should’ve been looking his way at all, but did it in the hopes he’d get something out of him.

But John wasn’t fazed. Didn’t react, or say anything as he watched him go about his business, somehow even colder than when they’d first started working together. Not angry, annoyed, happy, or anything.

Just…nothing.

Rounding the car, Sharky tugged down on the brim of his hat and hoped it’d stay there. 

“Guess I’ll see you around?”

“Perhaps. Provided you don’t torch another portion of my property.”

He stopped. Felt the comment dig in a little more than it should’ve, and turned to look at John. He saw the hint of a smirk that lingered there only for it to drop completely.

It hadn’t been a kind thing for John to say, but that John realized it only after looking right at him hurt even more.

Sharky couldn’t hold his tongue any longer at that.

“You know, people talk around here. Have been for years, and will keep on doing that come tomorrow, next week, next year, whenever. I know you’ve heard more than half of what goes on about you here. What they say, and just how they feel about you. Hell, I’ve talked shit plenty about you. Had no real reason to think you weren’t the county’s largest asshole based on the like, ten things we’ve said to each other before the last couple of months.

“But in some ways you’re an okay guy. Maybe even a great one once you get past the bullshit, and I, uh, like you. Didn’t think I’d ever say that and mean it. Probably tell the person claiming it they had a screw loose or something, but I do. And I don’t…”

Sharky bit the last part of the sentence off, because he knew what he did. He knew exactly what he’d done, and hated that this was the result.

“I, uh, don’t think it really matters what I say at this point, huh?” he muttered, looking John’s way, “not anymore, at least.”

John’s jaw had tensed sometime in the last minute or so, but he held his tongue. Said nothing, and Sharky let himself ramble on in spite of it.  Had to do anything to cover up whatever else he’d try.

Since this really was it, wasn’t it? The last time he was going to be here, talking to him, and he was wasting his time talking about anything other than the way he’d made him feel that day.

He’d never had the best of luck with shit like this anyway.

Giving John a grin, one that he wanted to muster up and mean, he held out his hand to him. 

“Guess this is where we part ways, amigo, and uh, don’t worry. Don’t think I’ll be taking a joyride in your boat twice.”

Not dropping his stare for a second, John shifted towards him and took his hand. Squeezed it as he shook it, and Sharky felt his grin finally wane as he forced himself to let go.

With one last slap to John’s shoulder, he headed towards his car.

“Charlemagne,” John called after him, but he didn’t slow down, “Charle-Sharky, wait.”

Fuck, not even that sounded right coming from him. Not after hearing his actual name for so long, and he couldn’t do it any longer. Let himself snap, and threw all of his frustration John’s way.

“Just save it, okay? Don’t bother with the names, the pleading, or whatever this is you’re trying. Persuading me? Now? The fuck’s up with that? Not like you wanted me here to begin with, but it is what it is. I wrecked your shit, I came here to fix it, thinking that was going to be all of it, but this?” he said, gesturing between them, and let too much show on his face while saying it. “This on top of everything else? Fucking blows, man. It fucking blows.”

Seeing John’s calm crack wasn’t satisfying. Having to force it to begin with even less so.

“So just…let it go, huh? Save us both more trouble in the long run.”

He turned, and his feet carried him to his car, and he left.

On autopilot, he hit the gas, not thinking about where the road was winding to. He followed it, revved more than the car liked, but found himself pulling in to one of the gas stations. He idled by the pump, loosened his grip on the steering wheel, and turned the keys.

That’s when the blue caught his eye.

Right on the dash sat the sunglasses. Blue, almost as blue as his eyes.

Hitting the steering wheel, Sharky swallowed the rest of his feelings down and got out.

—

Fall ended, and with the beginning of winter the first hint of snow rolled in. One to two inches of snow to start, blanketing everything in a fine layer of white as the temperatures dropped.

Nothing that would bury his place outright, but that still didn’t stop him from giving half of it a good ol’ scorch with his flamethrower. He had a yearly thing going, adjusting it each time just to get the right stream of flame flowing, so he wouldn’t burn much under the snow. But thankfully, this wasn’t one where he was on the verge of getting caught for it.

Not yet at least, as Sharky took the jet of fire and gave it another sweep across where the snow was coating the road. He’d get at least two to three more passes before hitting the pavement, and needed to be sure to stop it at any sign of the fire spreading.

Now was not the time to get cozy up at the jail either, no matter how well they decked the halls over there.

Hurk let him know early on that he was set to do their usual thing this time of year. He’d pull up a chair with him as they had their holiday bonfire, before heading out to Aunt Addie’s. Those were the best times, and the ones where he really had all he could’ve ever wanted.

Sometimes there were odd years. The ones where Hurk was gone after all, being one hell of a kick ass super spy, and Sharky found it harder to get in on the holiday fun with his aunt. Felt a little too much like an outsider, and thought his time was better spent down at the Eagle drinking himself stupid before trying and failing to write a dirty phrase into the snow.

This year was set up to be one of the good ones, though. He had Hurk, they had their usual plans set up, and tonight they’d even decided to get in a little pre-holiday drink-a-thon. He’d supply the venue and grab half of the alcohol, while Hurk would cover the rest. Snag them more booze, maybe even a few movies, and he’d try to see how fast he could beat him at his own self-declared shot-taking record.

But first, he needed the beer. Smokes too, since he’d gone through most of his current pack, and snapped up what he could down at the general store.

They only had one six pack of the beers he and Hurk liked, though, and when he went fishing for cash he wasn’t able to cover for another, so he cut his losses. He paid for the beer plus one pack of cigs, and knew Hurk would have his back on the rest.

Not breaking his usual habit, he pried off one of the beers and popped the top as soon as he was out the door. Hit by the cold, he shivered but shrugged it off as he tilted the beer back. It wasn’t far to his car, so he could double-time it there before anyone could say two words about it.

“Strange.”

He paused, and nearly coughed the drink up. John was standing not even three feet away, dressed in a long dark coat. A blue scarf was wrapped around his neck, and between harsh coughs Sharky might’ve been able to pick out the light smile he wore. Almost friendly.

The air escaped John in a puff as he chuckled. 

“You would think something warm would be better for this weather.”

“It…uh, that’s what the whiskey at home’s for,” Sharky rasped, “or fireball. Usually a winner.”

“Ah.”

John raised a gloved hand to hold his coat closed, clearly cold, but he didn’t drop his eyes or move on. Just held the look he was set on aiming at him, and Sharky knew his mouth was in danger of running off on him.

Once he could get it going again. Funny how John always had a way of doing that to him.

“You, er, need anything from here? You never-“ I never see you down here, “didn’t think there was a thing you’d ever run out of.”

“Yes, I… There were a few things I did find I needed.” The smile faded. “Matches.”

“Oh. Yeah, you might need some of those,” he took another drink of the beer, hoping it would cover the way his mouth was twisting. And didn’t like the way his lighter suddenly burned a hole in his pocket, “for heat?”

“Heat. Mostly.” John shrugged, and tried another smile. “Haven’t decided to take a page out of your book just yet. But it’s tempting.”

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Pressed against the back of his teeth as he felt his grip on the beer tighten. “So, uh…”

“It’s good to see you.”

“Good luck with that.”

He’d blurted it out just as John spoke, not expecting anything along those lines.

Something flashed in John’s eyes. It was hard to tell out here in the dark at first, but those blue eyes of his managed to catch the light. What little there was brought them out, and he didn’t know what to do with the hurt he’d let him see.

But it was too late now. He couldn’t take it back no matter how hard he tried. 

“Fuck, I uh-this isn’t, look I-“

“You’re busy,” Smoothing out the front of his coat, John looked down as he did so, studying his leather gloves closely, “clearly I’ve interrupted something, and you need to get back to it.”

Chug-a-lugging a beer out in public wasn’t something. Lighting another cigarette only to stub it out before finishing it in the ashtray of his car wasn’t something. Missing him wasn’t-

Sharky swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Think you’re right about that.”

This was his cue to leave. He had been out here long enough, stared over at him long enough, and he didn’t at all trust his ability to hide any of it at this point. Still, he let himself look at John again, just for a moment longer, because what was one more second? He’d dug the hole deep enough to start, he’d keep on going until he had a whole damn trench.

“See you around, man,” he threw out over his shoulder as he turned to leave, “oh, and happy holidays and all that shit.”

The snow crunched under his feet as he trudged over to his car, ready to throw the door open and hop in fast. But this time around John didn’t call out to him. He put the last of the beer down from behind the driver’s seat, waiting for it, listening, only for his phone to give him a notification instead.

Slipping it out, he opened up the message waiting for him.

Happy holidays. Take care.

—

“Holy shit, Sharky. Thought they were out of this. Though, looks like they would’ve been if you’d put any more of a dent into it.”

Hurk snagged one of the beers on the table – one of three remaining, which wasn’t that bad – and got to work on it quicker than he had. Then took the other next to it right after. 

Stifling a laugh, Sharky flicked a loose bottlecap at him from the couch. 

“You trying to say something? After I head on down there and nearly freeze my ass off hunting for that shit?”

“Whoa, no. Cause that’s just hella rude turning my nose up at any free alcohol being offered, but this ain’t enough for two. Hell, it’s barely enough for one.”

And with their shindig consisting of one beer, the remains of another six-pack in his fridge, plus the line of spirits they’d taken a crack at already, it was looking a little on the sad side. Hurk hadn’t even been able to snag a keg, not this time around, because he’d shown up to his house, emptied his pockets, and didn’t even have a movie or three to share.

“And not a single call back,” Hurk sighed, “I’m hurting, cuz. Thought we’d be able to cozy up to some fine-ass ladies tonight, but no takers.”

“Eh, it happens.”

Disappointing as it was, he was hard-pressed to care. At least until Hurk threw a handful of bottle caps back at him, and he dove to the other end of the couch to dodge them.

“Well, you’re in a funk still. Don’t think I’m not noticing that!”

“Look, it’s late. We’re short on shit. Any lady walking in through that door would walk back out again after seeing half of this. And that’s not even covering the porn mag left on the table.”

“Hey, I marked a spot. Thought you’d appreciate it since you’re blue, and needed a little something to make you smile.” Hurk walked over and held it up, thumbing through a few more pages before turning it around to show it to him. 

“Come on, you love this chick.”

“Yeah, I know,” He sat back down, and folded an arm under his head. Gave what he was holding a passing glance, before leaning back, “It’s nothing. Just some of that seasonal shit.”

“Well, I think I know how to get this party going again. We exit stage left, head on down to see Miss Mary May, and work our way up from there, eh?” He grunted in response, and Hurk sighed, “Duderino, you’re killing me here. I’ve gotta find a way to get you back to bouncing off the walls, or we’re both done.”

The magazine was tossed back down, and Sharky heard a gasp.

“Oh, shit. That’s pretty fucking sharp there, cuz.”

“Hmm? What is?”

“These sunglasses. Where’d the hell you manage to get them?”

Sharky shot up in his seat. Hurk had them on, in the middle of shooting off a set of finger guns, and paused only to push them further up the bridge of his nose. “Oh, this is pretty damn cool. Don’t know about all the blue, though, you think these little guys come in a little red, white, and blue instead?”

Sharky scrambled up and off of the couch, and wrangled them away from Hurk. 

“Careful with that shit, okay? You’ll fucking break them if you bend them the wrong way.”

“Whoa, whoa there, man! Easy, easy!” Hurk held up his hands, and gave Sharky a wary look as he examined the pair, “It’s a set of sunglasses, bud. No big deal, not that I was gonna actually break ‘em.”

“They’re five-hundred bucks, man.”

Hurk changed his tune immediately, “Well, fuck a duck. And you’re holding onto them? Who the hell do you know spending that much dinero on a set of glasses?”

It didn’t take long for him to narrow that down either, and Sharky’s grimace in response only sent the unspoken point home.

“Wait. Are those John’s?”

“He dropped them. We were working one day, he had to run off to do something with his bro, and I…grabbed them. Wasn’t thinking much at the time, like I know he could’ve come back to grab them later, but I thought they’d get smashed out there. Figured I’d have a chance to give ‘em back, except later never really came, and I, uh. Held onto them.”

“Well, it’s his fault for doing you dirty like that. Stealing and keeping his shit seems like fair game to me.”

Glancing down at them, Sharky sighed, “Nah, not really. Not like you think it would.”

Hurk got quiet, saying nothing as he went and gently placed the sunglasses back down on the dining room table.

The low whistle Sharky got after that though, had him trying to force himself not to bolt.  “Fuck me running, dude. You weren’t kidding before, were you?”

“During what? The whole him not being a douche thing, or the part where I kind of liked him?”

“Man, both. Both are pretty much the same thing. Sorta.”

“Oh. Well, it-it’s fucking bad, man,” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sharky swiped his cap off to run a hand through his hair, “It’s a whole lot of bullshit, cause I was busting my ass there. Wanted to get it all over and done with so we could go back to acting like nothing had happened. Then I didn’t mind it as much. Kinda thought we were friends or heading towards it, and…I might’ve blown that too.”

Dropping his arm, he sniffed, and tried to look anywhere but Hurk’s way.

“Cause you don’t wanna kiss your friends or try to. Muddies things a whole hell of a lot, and it’s…it didn’t work out. And I don’t know why, but I still wanna see him. Know how he’s doing even if he doesn’t give two shits about me, and when I had that chance today grabbing that,” he said pointing over towards the beer, “I blew it again.”

“What about you, cuz? Takes two loving and willing adults to do the ol’ sideways shuffle,” Hurk paused, scrunching up his face as he considered it, “wait, that’s a bad way of saying it, cause we’re not talking fucking, we’re talking feelings. Point still stands, though. You gotta have a say in some of this here. Especially if you like this guy – and fucking John, man, but I ain’t judging. Much.”

Hurk’s hands went up again as Sharky gave as much of a glare as he could muster. But when Hurk walked over and gave him a hug, he didn’t pull back.

“You’ll always be cool to me, man. Sorry for giving you shit over something you can’t really control, and if he’s being weird about it? He’s the one missing out.”

After a few pats on the back, Sharky let out a sigh. Felt some of the weight start to lift after letting that out into the open, and felt a little better too. Not completely, not even by a long shot, but he’d work his way there.

“You know what’ll help? Not all of it, but at least for now?”

“A round of shots?”

“Round of the best alcohol we can handle, and tonight I’ve got us covered. Do that for a while, then finish off the night watching ol’ Vinny being a total badass.”

Thinking it over, Sharky felt a smile start to creep in, “Maybe throw in some other shit too. Like, maybe one round of the holiday fireplace or something. The crackling’s nice.”

“Anything you like, bud. Anything you like.”

—

Nights at the Spread Eagle during winter weren’t much different than during the rest of the year. Sure there was a draft, but the place was just as busy as any other. The drinks flowed, the regulars had their winter gear on, and everyone was set on having a good a time as possible.

Hurk made good on his promise shortly after they got there, toasting him before the two got cracking on their first round of shots.

He didn’t want to get blasted, but the warmth that set in was welcome, and with every story that Hurk dove into he found it that much easier to let loose and laugh.  

Heading up for the next round, Sharky kept his beer close as he hit the counter up front, passed their order on to the always lovely Mary May, and set in for a short wait. Resting both arms on the counter he took a look around, he noticed there was no line at the jukebox. With quarters rustling around in his pocket, he had change to spare.

“Waiting on something?”

Shifting, he tried to make space for the person next to him, “Shit, yeah. Let me just-“

Then felt the rest of the response die as he glanced up at Jacob. Dude was still as tall and imposing as he remembered, but wasn’t eyeing him with the intent to kill. Or anything other than what he guessed was friendly for him.

“Yo, how’s it…how’s it going?”

“It’s going.” Jacob took the spot next to him by the bar, and Sharky tapped his fingers on it a little faster. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“No shit.”

“You two aren’t talking much anymore?”

“I, uh, don’t think that’s the way I’d put it. Cause if you know two things about it, and I know you guys are all close and shit, it’s…not great.”

“Yeah. You used to be all he ever talked about.”

That made him spit his next drink out. Getting one hell of a dirty look from Mary May, he grabbed as many napkins as he could to sop it up, wiping the counter down, and felt his face burn the entire time.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Jacob simply kept on tending to his drink. Drained it completely as he stood there next to him, and sighed when done. 

“Heard about you enough to wonder if he’d ever shut up about you. Charlemagne this. Boshaw that. Got real unlucky with that skunk business too.”

Groaning, Sharky set his face in his hands, “Yeah, it was. It was pretty bad.”

“Can’t dodge those easy.”

“I didn’t,” Sharky sat up, and eyed him, “so, I get it. You’ve heard some shit.”

Jacob set the empty bottle down, and motioned for another, “Plenty. More than I know you want to hear. Until he stopped. Stopped saying much of anything about you at all, and didn’t look none too pleased about it either.”

“Well, you wanna know more? Talk to him about it.”

“I did,” Mary May slid him a beer, and he redirected it towards Sharky, “Which is why I told him to talk to you.”

“Why would you…why’d you do that?” Sharky asked, any irritation at this bleeding away.

“John’s not easy to deal with. Then if he goes and fucks something up along the way? He’s ten times worse. And if he makes a mistake, not many are going to push back, or correct him on it.”

“You think he made a mistake?”

“He did,” The piercing look Jacob aimed at him made him sit up a little straighter, “he liked having you around. Why throw that away?”

That punched him up and down all at once, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not again.

“Look. I get it, you’re being a bro. Trying to look out for him and shit, and I respect that. It means a lot, but you want me to talk to him? Like sit down, link arms, and work any of this out?”

Sharky pulled out his phone and didn’t even wait for Jacob to prompt him. Just called John, and hit speakerphone so that they could hear it as it dialed.

“Dude won’t answer. Hasn’t yet, and won’t now.”

Jacob crossed his arms, set to wait with him, and Sharky listened for those telltale words of John’s. The same few words he’d been hit with when he first tried this months back.

“Hello?”

Sharky stared down at it, at the seconds as they ticked by on the screen, and felt his mouth go dry.

“Charle- …-nyone there?”

Slapping the phone against his ear, he turned off the speakerphone and talked fast, “Hey, uh, you…you’re not supposed to pick up.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re…” He stopped his leg when he felt it start bouncing into overdrive, “It’s, uh, sorry. Sorry about earlier. Wanted to get that out first, cause I didn’t know I was gonna see you and really had to run off. Might’ve also thought this would’ve gone straight to voicemail, so I could you know. Actually kinda work my way through this. Make it sound good, not…”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” John cleared his throat, and his next few words were warmer, “I wasn’t expecting a call at all, so even this is welcome.”

“Oh, er, well. Cool.” Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

“And…you don’t need to apologize for that. I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. It’s hard to hear you over the line, but if you want to talk more I’d be glad to. About that, or anything else.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His heart was hammering in place, and his eyes skimmed the entire bar. Jumping from item to item, needing a topic or an excuse to keep things going until they stopped on the white snowflakes decorating one of the other guests’ sweaters. It was an ugly sweater to be loud and proud of, and the shovel emblazoned on the front was the showpiece of the entire thing.

“Shovel.”

“Shovel?”

Shifting on his chair, Sharky swore under his breath. Put it in a sentence. Words, verbs, and some of those phrases like that Wheel of Fortune shit. That’s how you do this.

“You er, need any shoveling done? Like you’re dealing with a ton of snow coming down, or about to? Cause I’ve gone some ways of fixing that. Got more than a few, might even give you a method or two provided you want a uh, demo. Or a guarantee any of it’ll work, and I can cover it. Give you a sneak preview or something.”

John went silent, the sounds of the bar rising enough to cover him, and Sharky didn’t bother stopping his leg this time. Just felt it vibrate enough to make his voice uneven.

“Hey, John? You still with me there, amigo?”

“I’m still here,” he said, and Sharky couldn’t hold back his relief.

“So, what do you say? You dig any of that?”

“Yes,” It was faint, but he might’ve heard a laugh, “I think you’re right. I could use someone here after all.”

—

Every shovel Sharky owned he threw in the trunk. Packed them all, and didn’t care if they all bumped into each other as he took every corner faster than he should’ve.

That shouldn’t have worked. Hell, that shouldn’t have registered or been anything close to a winning proposition, but he said yes. He picked up, he heard him say yes, and that was all it took for him to throw everything aside for it. Just the chance to put a pin in any of this, and he was willing to dive in headfirst just to get an answer.

And to see him, but he’d known that for a while now.

The white that covered everything as he pulled up was beautiful. Almost too pretty to mess with, but the wheels of his car drew jagged lines through it, and after getting out he had to hold back on the urge to drop down and see how good of a snow angel he could pull off.

Grabbing one of the shovels, Sharky trudged over to the front door, and stood there. Stared at the doorbell like it was going to jump out at him until he jabbed at it. Then hit it one more time just to make sure it worked.

After that came the waiting. That was what sucked, and after a few seconds of it, he started fumbling for a cigarette. Searching both pockets, however, gave him nothing. Not a loose one, not pocket lint, but he did find some stray matches.

Taking one out, he twisted it between his fingers as he kept on patting himself down, and dropped it when the door opened and he caught John looking out at him.

Pulling himself up, Sharky grabbed for the shovel and held it up. Almost like one would a spear, and he cleared his throat, “Yo, so snow. You got a lot of it here.”

On the other side, John nodded slightly, “It appears to be so.”

“And I know you want that shit out, and fast. Now I’ve got a few ways of doing that. Got the traditional way, the express way, and the uh, Boshaw Barbeque way. Not gonna just limit you to one, I figured you’d want the full set of things to pick from.”

The look of interest in John’s eyes grew, and he raised an eyebrow, “I remember you mentioning a few. Any recommendations?”

“Well, namesake’s kinda a no-brainer. Cause usually that means I can go a round or two outside with my flamethrower. Torch the shit out of it and clear it out without thinking too much,” Stopping to rub at his neck as he thought it over, he made a face, “think that might be the express way too.”

“So, two out of the three ways involve…fire?”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda my go-to for most things, but I figured you might wanna limit that.”

John’s reply came fast, “Agreed.”

“But the others are still open. If you change your mind, I’ve got her loaded up back there. Takes nothing to just whip it out on a second’s notice, and get the job done,” setting the shovel down, Sharky cleared his throat, “so, ready to work with Boshaw and er…well, it’s just one Boshaw, but I like the idea of having a name for it, so it’s coming together. Just slowly.”

“You do have name recognition on your side right now,” John raised a hand to rub at his lips, considering him as he stood there, “or would that be more notoriety?”

“Hey, being known for something’s not all bad. Being known for the kind of thing that you’ll be using? Guarantees you’ll make it work. And here? Still offering up a service, and fire or not it’s getting done. So, fuck it. Tell me where to start, and I’ll get right on that.”

Barely hiding a smile behind his hand, John gestured indoors, “Let me get my coat.”

—

This was going well. The kind of well that had him hoping there wasn’t something awful waiting just behind the scenes to strike, because his hopes were at an all-time high, and Sharky wasn’t ready to let them crash back down to earth.  

John took another shovel, with the reasoning behind it being that one man couldn’t possibly put a dent into any of this alone. Not quickly. It was his fault for having a fucking mansion for starters, but the minute he started chipping in, Sharky couldn’t quite keep the grin off of his face.

“More snow’s coming in tonight,” John said, not breathing hard yet, but each one left his mouth in a white puff, “not heavy, but enough to make it a problem.”

“See, we could get all of this taken care of, but I know my method’s off the table. Just offering that again, in case you’re looking for something quick and easy.”

“And I appreciate the offer, but I fail to see how that would make it easier.”

“Just point, work the trigger a little to see how you like it, then gently sweep the stream back and forth,” making the motion with his hands, he rocked back and forth, putting his hips into it too, and only stopped when he noticed the wry way John was looking at him, “hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. That shit works wonders when you’ve got twenty feet of snow and only one buckaroo around to move it all.”

John set his hands on top of the shovel, “Namely yourself.”

“Yeah, though Hurk’s had my back ever since we were little. He’s been there for me for anything and everything, and if I asked right now he’d be at my house in ten with a sled and a shovel. To skid down those slopes first, before throwing in with me to cart that shit out. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. Just sucks he’s out of town often as he is.I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. Just sucks he’s out of town often as he is. Seen some real strange shit too, going off of what he’s brought up.”

“Well, maybe you won’t have to handle it alone this time.”

Sharky paused mid-shovel. “Say what?”

“You could…ask.”

“Ask you?”

John tilted his head to the side, glancing down briefly before making eye contact again, “I understand I’m not going to bring a lot of firepower to it, but it’s another set of hands.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Having two heads and four sets of hands to use? It sure is,” he said, and gave him a broad smile, “maybe clear all that snow up before that tingly sensation kicks in, you know that kind where you lose the feeling in your fingers? What a thing that’d be. Thanks, man.”

John waved him off, but let his attention linger on him even after going back to shoveling. That might’ve made him put his back into a little more, when he wasn’t trying to look at him himself.

Pink started to tint John’s face, mainly his cheeks, which reminded him of one of those old Christmas figurines he had a bad habit of knocking over at his grandma’s. Rosy-cheeked, possibly haunted, going off of some of their weirder bumps in the night that happened during the holidays, but smiling and happy.

John wasn’t smiling directly, but every time their eyes met, he caught something there. Not even ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ this time, but there. Made that warm feeling run through his chest again, and he felt his mouth moving before he could stop it.

“You know, uh…you can come by again. Anytime. Just to shoot the shit, hang, dodge Broseph or Jake if they’re getting at you. Or shit, bring ‘em. We can all rock the firepit, I’ll set up some music and just chill.”

Sharky cleared his throat, focused right on the pile of snow that kept on growing, and kept on talking.

“Or we could hop in Hurk’s truck, go do some ice fishing, but by giving it the ol’ Sharky one-two fer. You know, cause Hurkie and I came up with it, and if we wanna trademark that it’d take a while, but you’re a lawyer. We could probably sit down, you could slap on a suit, crack open that briefcase of yours, and set us up while you’re throwing around all of the shit they say on Law and Order, and oh, fuck,” he stopped and crunched enough numbers to sweat, “that whole talking bit’s got a price tag too, huh? Shit, think you could uh, swing a bit of a first time customer satisfaction guaranteed deal for-“

He turned as John reached his side, and yelped as he yanked him forward by the front of his coat. Kissed him in full, his lips cold, but his breath warm. So warm, and so much closer than he had been not even a minute before.

The shovel hit the snow, falling right out of his hands. Trying not to trip over it, Sharky moved forward, grabbing for him as John slid a hand up behind his head. Kissed him back. Just like he’d wanted to. Weeks back. Days back. Today, soon after seeing him at his front door.

Like he could right now, even as words kept on trying to bubble up and spill out. But he’s here. John’s on him, kissing him, moaning into his mouth, and he can’t believe it. Can’t believe it even as it’s happening.

Breaking away, Sharky pulled back. Blinked and held his eyes shut for a few seconds just to see if he could ground himself. But John was still there when he opened them. Still there, still holding onto him, and nearly pinched himself just to be sure.

And Sharky laughed. 

“Fuck, man. You just…you like throwing me off balance, don’t you?”

“Me? That’s you,” John said, stroking his cheek, “has been you from the very first day I met you. Officially, at least. This fool that thought it’d be a fine idea to borrow a boat - while intoxicated at that - and trusted he would be able to return it.”

“Hey, I only failed step four. Nearly had profit too, but…uh, yeah,” leaning into John’s touch, Sharky let his eyes fall shut, “better than I didn’t. Hindsight being twenty-forty and all that.”

“Twenty-twenty.”

“Whatever. But-“ But why? The thought crept in, and his smile grew brittle, “you change your mind, or….?”

John’s eyebrows drew together, “About what?”

“You didn’t… I didn’t think you-“

A shaky breath slipped out, and Sharky couldn’t help it. Took two steps back to get some distance between them.

“I’d run through this before. Thought this shit over, and you weren’t interested. And that’s cool. Not everyone is. Shit, I didn’t even think I was until it fucking laid me out. Cause when I said I liked you, I liked you. Like, enough to put up with damn near anything just to get a few more minutes with you.”

John let out a breath, and pressed a hand to his eyes. Murmured something softly to himself that Sharky couldn’t quite catch, only for John to repeat it soon after. 

“It wasn’t you.”

“Wasn’t what?”

When he lowered his hand, Sharky didn’t need to guess the expression crossing John for once. Regret came through clear as day, “‘You’ that made a mistake. I did. And letting you think that for as long as I did wasn’t fair. Not to you.

“I don’t have friends. For a long time it wasn’t wise to, and the ones that I did make quickly showed me it was only for what they could get out of me. Others took it further than that, and…I did the same in turn. Took people that would’ve been friends, used them for what I could get out of them, and ruined what could’ve been something wonderful.”

John pursed his lips together, and gave him a rueful look.

“I knew what this was building towards. Ignored it. Then let myself want it. Where was the harm? But there’s always a catch to wanting. Wanting something. Someone. Was I doing it again? Being selfish? Taking that, twisting it just enough to make it into something that would hurt more than harm?”

Searching his eyes, John held out a hand to him before drawing it back.

“Did you even want me? As a friend or anything else? I thought I saw the first there. And gave little thought before trying to see what was beyond that.”

“Like, I kissed you,” Sharky said, frowning slightly, “that’s…that wasn’t crossing any wires there.”

“But I put you in that position. When we stopped-”

“John, I was…I was full on set to keep on going, man. Like, I wanted it. Thought you’d stopped, realized what the fuck was going on and decided to slam on the brakes once you’d got some sense back. And sure, I needed to cool it and think it over, but that was just…” Sharky paused, and drew in a deep breath, “just to come to realize how much I liked being around you. Okay, getting hit with that whole ‘shit, guess I’m bi too’ didn’t hurt, but I wanted to be there. Wanted to finish all of this, and maybe see where it’d go after that. And you, uh…”

“I came home. I told you we were done, and forced you off of my property.”

“Yeah,” he replied, looking away, “yeah, it pretty much went like that.”

“It was…I thought I was making a wise choice. To put that distance back where it should’ve been the entire time, because I was making the same mistakes all over again. And I didn’t trust myself with that. Or you.”

“And I wanna respect that. You’ve gotta do right by you, and you didn’t wanna fuck me up, but…maybe it’s not always gonna lead straight to a bad end, you know?” John kept his eyes on Sharky as he took a few steps closer, on edge, but not backing away from him, and Sharky continued, “I mean, I’ve heard you like having me around. Is that right?”

That, John didn’t hesitate to answer. “I do.”

It brought a smile out, and Sharky didn’t hide it, “Already told you how I feel. Unless…you want me to go over that a little again. Break it down some more.”

John raised his chin, “I might.”

“Okay, let’s see,” Sharky said, rubbing his hands together, “I like you. Like hanging with you, shooting the shit. Like working on your plane. Car’s also good, and I like looking at you too, though uh, that’s not the sentimental shit we’re going for right now.”

John chuckled, “No, not quite.”

“But it was nice being here. Being wanted. Knowing you wanted me here at all, even if it was only to fix shit up at first. And to get sprayed the hell out of, but that was a bad moment. Got the drop on me, and I wasn’t super slick when it came to getting out of it. But I handled it. And later on, I had some other cool moments.”

“True. We can’t forget that.”

“And I uh, mentioned the talking right?”

“You did, but as nice as that was, maybe I liked looking at you too.”

Sharky blushed, laughing at it only to grow quiet when John stepped closer. Almost enough to cross back into his space, and felt his breath catch.

“Just like right now.”

“Well, uh, shit,” Sharky sputtered, as John ran a hand up the front of his coat, right along the zipper. He toyed with that enough for Sharky to drop his eyes only to park them right on John’s lips, “Um. That right?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

“And I might’ve missed one last thing here. Really meant to bring it up.”

“What?”

“The whole kissing part,” leaning forward, John tugged him down the rest of the way, “liked that a whole hell of a lot too.”

Kissing him this time wasn’t a problem. No, it was all too easy as he wrapped his arms around John, and held him as close as possible. John’s fingers ran through his hair, knocking his winter cap off onto the snow, and he shivered. More from the cold than the gesture, but John seemed set on giving it a run for its money anyway.

He also seemed set on finding a way to slip those gloves under his coat, and Sharky barely held off from giving him added access. Cause stripping was totally cool. Stripping outside in this weather was a dumbass stunt, and he held off.

Soon though, John broke the kiss to whisper something into his ear. Distracted by the feeling of his lips on his neck after, Sharky leaned into him, and felt him laugh as he repeated what he said.  

“Much as I like this,” John said, his breath warm against him, “standing out here with you, I think it’d be a lot more pleasant inside. Where it’s warmer for one, and maybe we can also find a few other ways to keep it that way. Do you agree?”

Sharky swallowed hard at the suggestion, nervous, but eager, “Yeah, let’s…let’s do it.”

Grabbing John’s hand, he squeezed it tight. And when he felt himself being guided towards the house, he stayed close behind.

—

Turns out the bedroom was too far to go.

It also didn’t have a sweet couch and a roaring fireplace, something John mentioned as a selling point. Not that he needed any convincing, but John kept up with it, describing it in perfect detail by his ear all while helping him to shimmy out of his clothes.

Sharky was usually pretty quick on his own. He’d timed himself once to see how fast he could whip his pants off, and was proud of the record even though he’d almost busted his ass on the floor. Here and now, with another set of hands on him, it should’ve taken zero effort to shed what he was wearing, and he’d left his coat, shirt, and hat on the trail to the living room.

Now, doing so while trying not to break the kiss he was engaged in was harder.

Struggling to keep any sense with John’s tongue in his mouth, Sharky bumped into the doorway, nearly tripped over one of those little foot-cushions, and almost took a table corner to the kidney, all while helping John wrestle his sweater over his head.

Sharky couldn’t help but jump at the first brush of John’s hands, cold against his sides and lower back. They warmed fast as they traveled over him, though, one skimming down the front of his pants before going for his belt. Getting past that, then the zipper, John’s palm ground down, pressing against him over his underwear, and Sharky couldn’t keep from moaning at the contact.

A cold hand on his dick wasn’t the most pleasant thing to consider, but he’d forgive him. Shit, he’d forgive him for damn near anything as long as he kept up with that slow, steady pace as he hardened quick under it.

However, it was John that also nearly made him pitch over the back of the couch when pressed against it. His mouth hot against his, then along and down his throat, Sharky held onto him tight only to nearly lose it by leaning back and slipping on the leather.

“Whoa, wait, wait-fuck!” Sharky yelped, breathing hard as John steadied him, one hand on the couch, and the other digging into his hip.

Trading a look, the two held it for a few seconds before John’s concern gave way to exasperation, “Is there anything in here that you haven’t tried to maim yourself with?”

“Yeah. You, for one,” Sharky said, then broke away and worked his pants down, tugging at them as he hopped on one leg, “jury’s still out on if that’ll change, though.”

John almost looked offended, “That’s hardly fair to say.”

The pant leg snagged on Sharky’s foot, and he glanced down to see what the deal was. 

“Dude, you know my blood’s been running south to my dick for the last ten to fifteen, right? You wanna add to that?” He yanked at it to free it, struggling, “Shit, all you’d have to do is fucking offer to-“

“Offer to do what?” John drew his belt out, and tossed it onto the coffee table, “Because I’d like you to be a little more specific.”

“Just…” With no other helpful suggestions on his end, he felt himself grasping for straws.

He glanced over his shoulder, trying not to keep on hopping, but once John removed the last of his clothes, he suddenly knew just how far those tattoos of his went. The answer? Pretty damn far, and he didn’t want to stop looking at him.

“Just, you know. If you wanna finish the job, find some way to blow my mind, I guess.”

“Or I could just blow you,” John all but purred at him.

Did he just purr at me? Wait a sec, did he also just…? Hopping in a slight turn, he skidded, the world pitching sideways. Stumbling, his shoulder took the brunt of the impact as he hit the floor.

His foot was freed, but his pride? Just as bruised as he’d be come tomorrow.

“Charlemagne?”

“It’s fine! I’m cool,” he wheezed, feeling his face burn as John started over towards him. One very naked, and worried John judging from the way his eyebrows kept on drawing together, “just give me a sec.”

Shucking off his pants and underwear at last, he stood up, and huffed out a breath. So much for that record. And so much for John not finding a way to, as he put it, maim him.

“Right. I’m sitting down now.”

John guided him over to the couch, resting a hand on his lower back, “A wise choice. The wisest I’ve heard yet.”

And when he’d settled down onto the leather seat, the material cool against his skin, he took in the scene in front of him. Like some weird parody of what he’d catch in a holiday movie. The room was warmly lit, the fireplace just the kind of cozy he’d like to stretch in front of and watch for hours.

It was the kind of thing that belonged on a postcard. Not what he’d be met with back at his house, even with the small tree he’d cobbled together year after year to bring some cheer into his place.

“Shit, that’s pretty.”

John gave him an amused look as he followed his gaze to the fire, “I thought you might like that.”

“So’s you,” Sharky murmured, looking up at him, “just in case you were wondering.”

John had opened his mouth to say something else, but let it fall shut. Backlit by the fireplace, he faced him, and in that moment it really hit him. Just how bright, and seriously, fucking beautiful his eyes were as they focused on him. 

“Am I now?”

Resting a hand on the back of the couch, he leaned forward and Sharky met him halfway.

Sinking back against the cushions, he pulled John with him, and felt him slide a hand along his jaw before it sank into the hair behind his head, helping him to angle it up towards him. There he could keep on kissing him, feeling his lips tease at his, followed by his tongue.

Resting a knee next to him on the couch, John kept himself propped up and over him, able to hold himself in place as his other hand moved down between them.

John’s mouth traveled over to his ear, “Still with me?”

His teeth tugged at Sharky’s earlobe, the sensation sharp. But that had nothing on the way he sucked hard on his skin after that. And when John wrapped his fingers around his cock and squeezed, Sharky couldn’t stop his hips from bucking into his grip.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah. Fuck yeah,” Sharky gasped, grabbing for him. Doing all of the moving for him, he wanted that slide, and didn’t let up.

“Good. Seeing you this eager’s not making me want to be patient at all.”

John tried to steady his hips, to ease him back into a slower rhythm, and that’s when he felt him start exploring. Trailing and tracing his fingers all over him, and Sharky nearly jumped when the touch tickled.

But the slower pace, the longer strokes still had him moving with John’s hand before long. Not slick enough by far, but one lick to his palm would’ve fixed that quick. Not that he was going to, but he thought about it. Thought pretty damn hard about it as he started bucking into John’s hand harder again, and swore under his breath.

“But don’t spend too much time watching the fire, like I know you want to,” John said, pulling back.

That snapped him out of it; he’d let his attention drift towards it, focusing on the cracking of the wood, but he managed to shift back to John. 

“Why?”

“I’d prefer if you watched me instead.”

Right now Sharky couldn’t look away if he tried. Having John kiss him hard, only for him to slide down his body and press another directly to his cock, he forced his eyes to stay open. He wasn’t fucking missing this. Not for a second, though he knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

“Jesus Christ, man,” every long lick of John’s tongue made him want to tilt his head back and enjoy the ride, “this ain’t gonna last long. Not that I don’t-“ John’s hand joined in, stroking him slowly as his lips closed around the tip, and Sharky’s groan was ragged, “n-not that I ain’t loving this, it’d just suck to bust one this fast, just when…”

“We’ve only begun to get started?”

John took him completely into his mouth after that, and Sharky swore loudly. The chuckle didn’t help, not when he could feel every last vibration, and he clenched both of his hands into tightly balled fists.

He wanted to touch John. Wasn’t sure where he could, as John’s fingers gripped his thighs, nudging his legs further apart to accommodate him.

His hair? Not that he needed to encourage him much, feeling him take him in deeper and deeper while his tongue kept on moving. But it looked like the kind he’d enjoy running his fingers through, and maybe he’d be into that? Wouldn’t hurt to try either way.

But his shoulders were an option too, Sharky noticed, watching his muscles flex as he moved. So were his arms. Not bad runner ups at all, if he was being honest.

Shit, there was a hell of a lot he needed to be honest with concerning himself, John, and what this was shaping up to be, but this was a start.

And on his list of regrets for the night, he’d only chalked up one thing. Not the fall. Making an ass of himself he could deal with easy.

No, it was the sloppy way he’d tried kissing him outside. Not waiting or thinking about anything other than how good he looked, he’d gone for it. Done what his gut and heart had agreed on this time around, because this was his shot and passing this up would’ve hurt ten times worse.

But somehow it worked out. For once in his life, he hadn’t fucked a good thing up by going with his gut. Thinking he’d read all of the right signs when he’d missed every one, and still wondered on some level if he was sleeping off one hell of a bender somewhere.

Not that having a wet dream about John would’ve been a bad thing, but considering he was living out the alternative? Sitting here with the real deal, taking in a sight like this? John, on his knees in front of him, determined to see how far he could deepthroat him before he’d pop?

Sweet, tap-dancing Jesus, he could get used to this. Yes, he damn well could, he muttered between heavy breaths as he finally broke, gripping John’s shoulders tight.

“You…oh, fuck. You, you just…” He was struggling. Genuinely struggling now with the new pace. Lips tight, John’s hand stroking him, as he tried not to buck his hips up. Harsh and deep. 

“John. Fucking, fuck, John.”

And then, Sharky felt it - felt him moan around him, and that nearly did it right there. And having John climb up to kiss him at that point, hurried and sloppy, and with his taste on his tongue, was hot as hell.

“This…this shit ain’t lasting,” he tried to get out between kisses, “so, y-you want this?”

That hadn’t been meant to get a response. But at the “yes,” John gave him, breathless and strained, Sharky might’ve been rougher when he kissed him. Liked it when John’s teeth caught on his lips, no longer careful, but desperate.

He’d half-dragged him onto his lap, only for John to press up against him. Climbed on as he kept on touching him. Got him gasping just as hard, and didn’t stop. Didn’t want to, and only did when the last few harsh strokes pushed him there.  

The sound that came out of him after that he’d rather not describe, or admit to anyone. But he let it out, and somehow his eyes didn’t roll back into his head.

Curled against him, John eased him down. Used softer strokes to coax him through the last few tremors, and let go only when he heard his breathing even out.

“It’s…it’s gonna suck to clean this, isn’t it?” Most of the mess was between him and John at the moment, but it wasn’t going to stay there. Not at this rate.

John sighed, “Possibly. But that’s a worry for tomorrow. Right now, I think there’s more important things for us to think about.”

Still aware of just how hard John was against him, Sharky was inclined to agree. 

“Yeah. Think you’re right there. I…also, I…I haven’t really done much of this shit before,” Sharky blurted out the next few words fast, knowing it was late by this point, but couldn’t hold onto them any longer, “now this I know, but anything else? It’s…um.”

“We’ll go slow,” John lightly touched his chin, making sure he was looking right at him, “sticking to anything you’re comfortable with.”

“Not that I’m not…not that I wouldn’t mind anything else, just-“

“Be gentle?”

“Yeah,” Sharky breathed, and leaned into the kiss waiting for him, “let’s go with that.”

—

There was a voice speaking. Low, and almost too hard to hear, but it was the first thing he noticed when he shifted. Moved to stretch. That, and the sheets that were almost too damn soft to touch under him.

Sharky opened his eyes, confused for a few seconds until he caught the figure sitting only a few feet away from him. John’s back was to him as he sat at the bed’s edge, his phone up to his ear.

Still with him, not leaving an empty space on his all too large bed. That was a shock. One that pushed up a whole lot of shit that he didn’t want to feel. Not right now, not here.

But his mind always had a habit of dragging it all up when he least wanted it. Watching John helped, though. Seeing someone there, even if he was focused on the conversation. Added more to the whole ‘the last eight to twelve hours weren’t a lie’ thing, and he needed it.

When John ended the call, he closed his eyes. Waited, not sure at all what to do or say, but figured this would give him time to decide.

He felt the bed shift. Nerves running on overdrive, Sharky took in a deep breath, and cracked his eyes open, “Hey, just so you know-”

Partway to him, John paused, startled.

Sharky blinked up at him, and lost his train of thought completely. Because it looked a hell of a lot like he was going for a kiss.

So, he tugged him down. Felt John respond immediately, as he rolled onto his back, and focused on kissing him. Hard at first, then softer. Each lazy kiss holding on just long enough for him to need air right after.

And he hadn’t done it yet. Hadn’t kicked him out. Wanted him out, like a whole lot of his morning afters usually went. Funny how that was the hardest thing to believe yet.

John trailed his fingers along his jaw, everything about it gentle, and Sharky let out a nervous laugh.

“Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

He took in a slow breath, and wet his lips, “…Neither did I. But it’s morning, and whoever this person is that I’ve found in my bed, I’d like to see more of them.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. One and the same,” John murmured, grazing his lips with his, “maybe even keep him there, if possible.”

“I…think he’d like that. Shit, I know I would. But you know what sounds good right now?”

“What?” John asked, gentle still.

“Breakfast. Never really got to that step before,” he gave him a sheepish grin, and chuckled. “Always wanted to, though. Got eggs and toast? Or…shit, I can try pancakes.”

Watching him still, John gave him a slow smile, and it was the prettiest one he’d earned yet. 

“Promising to keep any and all fires to a minimum?” John asked.

“Hey, I’m certified remember? For fire-starting and stopping. Guaranteed.”

“Very well then,” John replied, leaning in for another kiss. “Breakfast it is.”

[cecilspeaks]

150 - The Birthday of Lee Marvin (III)

Deb: Hey squishy humans! Deb at it again, as usual, talking until your mortal forms pass away. Welcome…

Dana: Once again, the sun has risen. Good one, sun. We’re all very impressed by the same trick on the millionth day in a row. I’m Dana Cardinal. Welcome to..

Computer: Computer loves Night Vale. Night Vale provides home for computer. Welcome…

Deb: Welcome…

Dana: Welcome…

Steve: Heyy everyone! Oh uh, oh man, I’m supposed to prepare some sort of a start for this thing, huh? Dangit, forget every time! Every time! [chuckles] Come on, Steve! You have a responsibility here, Steve! You’re better than this, Steve. Sorry. God, sorry! Oh. Uh, Welcome to Night Vale! 

Cecil: Listeners, it is a very special day today. That’s right, it’s Carlos and I’s sixth anniversary! Yes, we count that first night at the Arby’s, looking out at those lights, as the start. Why not? Something has to be the start. And that felt like the first moment of it, the rest of our lives.

It’s especially emotional this anniversary, because recently we did not exist for a brief period. Then we both did exist again, but I had forgotten about our entire life together. I have since remembered and it has been especially tender between us. Such things happen in any marriage that has gone on for enough years, and so it served us as a good reminder of who we are in each other’s lives.

But it’s not just a special day for us. Oh no. It’s also, oh wow – the 30th birthday of legend of stage and screen, Mister Lee Marvin. Let’s take a listen to a special message from the birthday man himself.

Lee Marvin: Hello. It is my birthday again. Huh. Well, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to all of us. It’s all of our birthdays this year. Congratulations, us!  But it’s only for so much longer. Uh.. I am tired of floating on time like a lazy river gone stale. It’s time for me to reach out, to cease. To alter. I’m so tired. I wish I could sleep. I mean I can, I can sleep. But also I wish that I could. Both the wish and the ability exist within me.

This will be the last day that I turn 30. I have been climbing a narrow rock chimney, but today I let go and fall into deep, clear waters. Hm. Thanks for all the birthday wishes. It really, really has meant a lot.

Cecil: OK, kind of a bummer of a birthday message, but let’s move on. And now, the financial news. Intern Maureen: And now the financial news or whatever. Looks like stocks are up, which is great for people who own stocks, who are statistically already wealthy enough that stocks being up or down doesn’t fundamentally affect their lives. And those of us without stocks, well then the health of the stock market has little relationship to..

Faceless Old Woman: Toni I see that you are reading the financial news. Yes, I’m looking at you right now. No, not behind your shoulder. I see you glancing back. No, not out the window either. Toni, look up.  Look up, Toni. The great work begin-

Steve: Now see I’m VP of counting at the Last Bank of Night Vale. I can count very high, so I’m uniquely situated to explain these figures to you. So uh, oh OK. See where the graph is going down? That means that the price is, uh, lower. Or-or maybe the stock is? Or it’s all going up oh hold on, huh, I’ve been looking at this sideways. Oh this isn’t graph at all! [chuckles] It’s a picture of Lee Marvin.

Dana: Why do bad things happen to good people? Wrong question. The question is: why do things happen?

Basimah: I have 17 dollars on my bank account and my teenage father is living with me. So things are going great here.

Cecil: ..up 8 per cent, the highest percentage in the last three years. And this has been financial news.

Meanwhile, a last minute birthday party for Mr. Lee Marvin has been arranged at Gino’s Italian Dining Experience and Bar and Grill at 5 PM. Where we will all celebrate the first three decades of Mr. Marvin’s life by taking advantage of some great happy hour deals. Gino’s happy hours are super appetizing. The most popular item is a small bowl filled with polished pebbles, but they are damn cheap, and that is appreciated in these tough times, when all of us are finding ourselves short on our bills. Except the estate of the late Marcus Vanston, which now contains approximately 15 per cent of all money in the United States, but still has no designated beneficiary.

Mr. Marvin himself is not expected to attend his own party, as he is not feeling well, and also says that he has a plan to move himself from this tired wheel of time. Well, feel better Lee, and good luck on that hobby of yours. Sounds complicated and exhausting. I’ll have a Shiraz and a bowl of pebbles in honor of you.

Lee Marvin: Night Vale. We are a town of good intentions. Once there was a god. Her name was Huntokar, and she tried to save one little town. She acted with love. The missiles came and she reached out to shift the timeline, only a tad, only enough to save us. And in that moment, her little town shattered into millions of parallel towns. This place became a prison. A god’s love is a dangerous force.

Once, there was a woman who was a general. She wanted victory for a just cause, so she fought every battle, over and over until time was jumbled up and overlapping and worn thin. She returned home and she died, but the wreckage she made of time remained.

And once there was a man. An actor. Once, but not much longer. Here, time and space have been scratched and scrunched, worn down until they’re translucent. And what if I reached out a hand? And what if I pushed that hand to the thin places?

Happy birthday to me. My last 30th birthday.

Steve: Well folks, there’s the hour and it’s time to, uh, do our usual checks and such. Check in on it. On the uh, you know the, what’s the word?

Faceless Old Woman: I’m standing on your roof, Randolph. Yes, Randolph, that’s my pacing you hear, back and forth on these cheap clay tiles that needed replacing three years ago. There will be rain, Randolph, some day. And then there will be leaks. That’s a certainty.

Don’t believe me? Let’s take a look at…

Dana: That’s that for all that, listeners. I’m getting tired just reporting all this life. Can’t imagine how tired all of you are from living it. So let’s all take a break together and go to the…

Numbers station: 43. 12. 9. 55. 30. 17. The weather. To the weather. Cause I am the champion and you’re gonna hear me… roar.

[“Things Still Left To Say” by Mal Blum, https://www.malblum.com]

Lee Marvin: There are many Night Vales. This isn’t news, it’s merely the fact of it. There’s a Night Vale where the streets are rivers and the rain falls constantly from sunless skies. There’s a Night Vale where the mayor is a smiling man, and a Night Vale where the mayor is a brave woman. And of course there is a Night Vale that has no mayor and never will have again. There’s a Night Vale without a day. And there’s a Night Vale without night. There’s a Night Vale where the dogs sing and the birds bark. There’s a Night Vale with no people, only the angel who’s moaning and tapping their fingers. There’s a Night Vale where I was never born. And there’s a Night Vale where I’ll never die. There’s a Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. She’s in every Night Vale there is. There’s Night Vale where time runs backwards and a Night Vale where time skips about, and there’s Night Vale where time doesn’t work at all. That’s this Night Vale. Time is weird here. Time is weird everywhere, but it’s especially weird here. There’s a Night Vale where Dana is the voice of her town, and a Night Vale where Deb, the sentient patch of haze is voice of her town. And a Night Vale where you are the voice of your town. An infinitude of voices, of an infinitude of Night Vales.

But here, in this Night Vale, our voice is Cecil. Hah, a voice like distant traffic. A voice like strong coffee at midnight.

Once there was a god with good intentions, and a heart full of love. She shattered us in two, many versions of us. Once there was a general, full of courage and victory. She twisted our time about itself, lost us in a labyrinth of hours and years.

And once there was a man. His dreams were simple. He wanted to be an actor, that’s all. To lie a little to audiences, in a way that they like being lied to. But time got stuck on him like – gum on a shoe. It was always his 30th birthday, from the Big Ban to the tedious heat death of the universe. His 30th birhday forever. Time weighed on him and so he looked out at every Night Vale that has ever been, and every Night Vale that will ever be, all of them swirling and swinging thru intertwining chronologies and he concentrated veery hard. And he reached out one tired ancient 30-year-old hand and stopped them all, just for a moment. He stopped time’s gyrations.

All is frozen. Water hangs in the air below a leaking tap. The trees are sculpted by a gust of wind and haven’t yet swung back to their natural state. The clouds form a frozen pattern, like snowdrifts in the sky. A voice of Night Vale sits in front of a microphone, mouth open but no words coming out. All of the voices in all of the Night Vales.

On the highway out of town, the cars are stopped dead. Their drivers caught glancing at their phones or scratching their ears and thinking about what would finally make them happy, or looking in the mirror and trying to gauge whether the car behind them belongs to the Sheriff’s Secret Police. Farther out, over the mountains and to the coast, the waves are stopped mid-fall. Foam caught, rising water caught, tumbling. 

An old man in Canada trips on a shoe discarded by his grandson, and there he remains, hands out mid-air, too late for anyone to save but not yet colliding with the earth. He will dislocate his knee.

A soldier in China squints at a bird, trying to decide which type of bird it is. Really it’s too distant to tell but the soldier makes a game of this to pass the tedium, and so here they are squinting at a bird that is stopped mid-flight, its wings outstretched, catching wind that is no longer moving. Observe the solder in this moment, a thin slice of a long life.  

Out in low orbit, a spindly silver being in a graceful silver craft, is caught in an instant when its appendages that are not really fingers but we’ll call them fingers, even though technically are closed in function to kidneys. When its fingers phase thru the skull of a sleeping human that it has brought abroad, reaching into the human’s memories, seeking out a clear understanding of a planet that the being has been tasked to observe. That planet and all the other planets cease for a moment in their senseless hurdle thru the vacuum. They are suspended. The way they are in diagrams.

The story we tell ourselves of stasis, and clear spacial relationships is, for a moment, true. An entire universe holds its breath.

Huh. Then I shift my hand a little and the gears of time click back into place and start again to move. Not quite as they were before, they-they are on track now. Their tread a little truer.

The beginning of my end. The start of my death. I take in air, I let out air, and in the moment where the universe starts again, something happens that has never happened before. Not in all of history.

Cecil: Today is a special day, Night Vale. Lee Marvin, star of stage and screen is, oh wow! - turning 31 today. Happy birthday, Lee! You know, it feels like our thirties just fly by. Enjoy them while they last. Lee Marvin celebrated his birthday in a notably somber way. He stepped out onto his lawn, nodding at passers by and various idiot birds. He spit thru his teeth, placed his hands on his hips, watched the sun move for a while. Then he nodded in approval of everything he’d seen and stepped back inside. Well, we all express happiness in our own ways.

A few minutes ago, I got the most interesting voicemail from my most interesting husband, Carlos. It’s our sixth anniversary today, you know. Anyway, he was so excited, I’ve never heard him talk so fast in his life. Carlos said he opened the clock that was on our mantelpiece at home, the one that was given to him by his mother the day he received his PhD. The one he brought with him to Night Vale, the one that after having come to Night Vale, he opened to find that it was full of moss and fur and human teeth. Yeah, time doesn’t work in Night Vale, he had realized and he mourned the transformation of both the clock and his experience of the days and years of his life, but he still believes in keeping possession in perfect condition, and so today he opened the clock to brush its teeth, only to find it was full of gears and a battery and was ticking away. He measured the movement of its minute hand against the sun, and found that the sun, instead of disappearing at wildly different times, was setting on a normal schedule. He called me up, his voice cracking with excitement, bordering on terror.

“Cecil, Cecil!” he said to me. “Cecil! Time is normal in Night Vale. Well. It is night, Night Vale. Soon the sun will rise and we know exactly what time that will happen. Our lives have all lurched forward. Is that – good? Stay tuned next for exactly what was scheduled to run next, at the exact time it was scheduled to do so. And from my mouth to your ears, even after all these years, Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Technically, the first human being and the first human being in space were the same person.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Dark Side: Part 2

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Steve X Reader

Summary: You expected Captain America to be a lot of things… You didn’t expect him to be anything like you. As it turns out, America’s Golden Boy may be more than a little tarnished.

Warnings: Violence, blood, some feels

A/N: This bad boy is for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s Marvelous Writing Challenge!

Lol, two parts. Who the fuck do I think I am? In all fairness, I feel like @littledarlinhavefaithinme knows my work well enough to know that I’m a wordy bitch. 

Hope y’all enjoy!

Tags are open!

You give yourself one more look in the mirror. The black strappy Dior high-low dress is just the right balance of sexy and classy. The gold Louboutins bring the perfect level of sparkle. And your red lips pick up the sole of the heels creating a flawless balance.

It’s not vanity that says you look like a knockout. It’s an indisputable fact. You just wish you were in a state of mind to appreciate it.

Your phone dings alerting you that your driver is waiting. Sighing you plaster your signature carefree smirk on your lips, grab your coat, clutch, and steel your nerves.

As the car pulls up he’s already at the corner waiting. You’re not the least bit surprised that he showed or that he’s early. Captain America didn’t seem the fashionably late type.

Before getting out you eye him through the tinted window of the Town Car. Despite the late autumn chill in the air, he’s not wearing a coat. Those cool blue eyes scan the area taking in everything. He has his hands shoved in his pockets and… he actually seems like he may be just a smidge nervous. That brings a real smile to your face. How endearing.

Knowing it won’t take him long to spot you, you thank your driver and step out. Immediately he locks on to you. Before meeting him it had been a long time since someone had genuinely managed to surprise you. Once again Steve Rogers does so when a breathtaking smile fills his face upon seeing you.  

“What do ya know,” you quip as you strut up to him, your heels making you just about eye level, “the man does own a suit, tie and all.” Playfully you tug on the dark navy fabric.

Steve scoffs, “You said suit so I assumed the whole ensemble would be expected.”

“Is this Prada?” You eye the perfectly cut lines, mouth watering just a touch. He was a damn fine specimen. “Impressive.”

“Being friends with a Stark does have its benefits.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” You hold your arm out to him, “Shall we?”

With a crooked smile on his face, he hooks his arm with yours, “Lead the way.”

The restaurant, one of DC’s hottest tickets at the moment, was only about half a block away. As the two of you make your way there heads turn. It’s not just because Captain America is out on a Saturday night either, together you cut an incredible image. Though keeping yourself hidden is usually a part of your M.O. you can’t help but feel a little pride.

There’s no sign above the place, either you knew it was here or you didn’t. As you walk up the door swings open revealing an open, modern, elegant setting.

Steve whispers into your ear, “This is one of those places where you leave hungry at the end isn’t it?”

“I’m almost offended.” One of the hosts takes your coat revealing the thin straps of your dress, your exposed chest, cleavage. Honestly, the thing was almost as criminal as you were.

“Careful there Steven, that’s a great way to catch a fly.” His slightly slack jaw snaps shut, blue eyes narrowing. You wink before turning to follow the hostess leading you to your table.

“It’s Steve,” he grumbles a bit, sounding like an angry boy and not a grown man in a five thousand dollar suit.

A genuine laugh tumbles from your crimson lips as you lazily sit in the proffered chair, legs crossing, the high front of the hem falling just between your thigh highs and holster. His Adam’s apple bobs hard in his throat as he takes his place across from you.

“What can I get you both to drink this evening?” The waiter asks, trying not to gawk, not that you could blame him, you’re sure it’s not every day he has Captain America at his table.

You respond before Steve can even look a the menu, “We’ll take a bottle of Merlot, pick whatever puts the most money in your pocket and,” you pluck a $100 from your clutch, “for your discretion.” He takes it and stares at you for a second. You give him a small wink too, “Thank you.”

“Thank YOU.” With that, he scurries off for the wine.

“Always so generous?” Steve takes a sip of water eyeing you.

“With service employees? Yes.” He raises his brows. “What? Can’t I be a benevolent criminal?”

“Is there such a thing?”

You shrug, “In my experience there is. Some of the most generous people I know make their money in nefarious ways.”

The waiter arrives with your wine. “Thanks,” Steve gives him a smile. As he does a server walks past with a skewer laden with red meat. “What kind of restaurant is this exactly?”

“It’s Brazilian steakhouse inspired.” Those words clearly meant nothing to him. “Basically they walk around and serve you meat until you beg them to stop.”

“Alright,” he nods, “I can get behind that.”

“Figured.” You sip the wine, its excellent. “I may have expensive taste but I grew up far too poor to blow money on four bites of food no matter how delicious.”

He laughs, “Tony took me someplace in New York… Everything was ‘deconstructed,’” he air quotes the word. “I honestly thought it was a joke. I had to stop for a slice after.”

“Yeah. Sounds like some rich kid shit.”

Taking a drink he nods in agreement. “So… not a rich kid.”

“Nope. Purebred third generation trailer trash.”

“From where?” You raise a brow over your glass. “Oh come on. You can read all about me online. I don’t even know your real name. Throw me a bone.”

“Fair.” You sigh, “Oklahoma.”

“Really?!”

“Yup. The land of corn, tornadoes, and disappointment.”

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you grimace and he laughs. “How’s life in DC?”

“Fine, I guess… You’ve probably seen more of it than I have.”

“It’s sad that I think you’re right.” He shrugs. “You could see it ya know?”

“You sound like Romanoff.”

“She sounds like good people.”

“You would probably think that. You’re likely cut from the same cloth.”

The servers come by and you both load up on incredible grilled meat and vegetables. He looks more than a little pleased. Your small talk continues on. It is actually pleasant and you just can’t bring yourself to drop your bomb just yet. Instead, you push it to the back of your mind.

After a bit, you decide to ask, “Any other prying questions for me?”

He looks shocked, “Plenty. But will you answer them?”

“Ask and find out,” your lips curl mischievously.

He slowly chews, a pensive expression on his face. “Alright…” Those blue eyes pierce you as he sips his wine. You feel… seen. It’s not uncomfortable but certainly not something you’re used to. “How do you go from, as you said, trailer trash, to this?” He gestures to you.

You think for a minute. “Determination.”

“That all I get?”

Maybe it’s his melancholy. Maybe is the way he looks in that suit. Regardless of the reason you decide... Fuck it.

“Well… I come from a place where you either get pregnant, get a scholarship, or get dog tags.” You take a sip of wine. “Never been very maternal, wasn’t good enough at anything for a scholarship, so I took door number three. One thing led to another and here we are.”

“YOU were a soldier?!”

“You do know the road from soldier to soldier of fortune is pretty short right?”

“I just… wouldn’t have guessed.”

An almost sad smile flickers across your face before you school your expression. “I will have you know I was a damn good soldier. One of the few women in combat infantry. Would have been special forces if the sexist fucks let me in.”

Steve nods in approval. “What rank?”

“Sargeant.”

Something flashes across his face at that but he says nothing. “How many tours?”

“Three.” His brows rise at this. “What? Said I was good at what I did. Thought that was going to be it for me.”

“What happened?”

You flag the waiter for another bottle of wine before answering. “They said don’t ask don’t tell.” You take a big gulp of wine, “Someone asked. I told.”

He takes a minute to sort that out before he realizes what you’re referring to. It’s just long enough for you to remember that old bitter feeling. “So you’re…”

“I’m all sorts of things, Cap.” You offer him a halfhearted grin. “At the time I happened to be with a woman. Thought she was gonna be it too. Turned out she was in it for the financial stability and good pussy-” he chokes a bit on his wine at that and you burst out laughing. “Anyway, when one of the two was gone so was she.”

“I’m sorry,” he lays his hand between you both.

Playfully you push it off the edge of the table, “Ancient history. Nothing to get mopey over.”

“Yeah. Well, good soldiers shouldn’t be treated as disposable.” Or good pussy, you almost fire back but you think you’ve shocked the old man enough.

“We were disposable.” He looks away from you at that. “Get rid of me there’s more desperate kids signing up every day.”

“Well… I guess that’s true. I was one of those desperate kids at one point too…”

“What were you desperate to get out of?”

He stares off into the distance for a long moment. “I was desperate to get in actually. It… seemed like the right thing to do… Whole world at war and whatnot. But… it was a different time.” Your eyes narrow as he shoves food in his mouth to avoid talking. After a bit he breaks, “What?”

“You’re right, I read all about you online. I’ve seen the before shots, read your biographies… Half of it, most of that golden boy rhetoric, is crap I have no doubt. Now you’re trying to tell me you only wanted to join the army just because it was the right thing… I call bullshit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You take a bite studying him. “You’re a fighter. You like the fight. I bet you always have, even when you were getting your ass kicked.”

“How would you know?”

You hold his gaze, “Because I’m the same.” Sighing you take a long drink. “All that wartime machismo and patriotism… you wanted to measure up. Maybe there was a righteous element to it but… yeah, I don’t buy that pure American hero serving his country shit.”

He looks like you slapped him before a smile spreads across his face, it’s a little sad but genuine. “Are your grandparents from Brooklyn by chance?”

You laugh, “Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “You’re not wrong. I, uh… I did have something to prove.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Prove it?” So many emotions flicker across his face, you almost feel bad for asking.

“I don’t know honestly. All the people who could answer that are dead…” It takes him a moment to continue, “But… Hydra fell… we won… so I guess there’s that.”

Your stomach tightens and you set your fork down. “Well, this has turned distinctly depressing.” You wave down your waiter, “You still hungry?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m stuffed. It was delicious.”

“Good.” You fish some money from your bag and put it in the dazed waiter’s hand. It was unquestionably more than your tab. He looks like he’s going to protest but you shut him up with a look. In your line of work you never knew if you’d see the next day and you couldn’t take it with you so why not give it away.

You stand, “Come on.”

At the door they go to fetch your coat, “Actually,” you pause them, “could I pick that up tomorrow?”

“Of course!”

“Thanks.” The air outside is brisk but it’s kind of refreshing.

“Where exactly are we going?” Steve asks as he falls in line behind you. “Do you want my jacket?”

How cute, you smile at him, “I’m good. And we are going to have some fun.”

“Were we not before?” His grin is mischievous.

“Look I know you have a low bar for entertainment. Dinner is nice but it’s not fun.”

After a few blocks, you turn to him, “Do you like dancing?”

“Uh…” Suddenly he looks incredibly uncomfortable. “Not… really…”

“Too bad.” You tug him down an alley, the base notes already hitting your ears.

Just outside the club, he stops, “I really don’t think this is my kind of fun.” Lights flash into the dark alley lighting up the line of people waiting to get in.

“Have you ever been to a club?” You stand your ground, keeping him in place.

“Well… no…”

You lay a hand on his… incredibly solid chest, “Have I led you astray in your assimilation so far?” He rolls his eyes. “No, I haven’t. Trust me.”

“Fine. But I’m not dancing.”

“Sure,” you quip over your shoulder as you pull him to the door.

“Isn’t there a line?” He says in your ear.

“I have the universal VIP pass,” pulling a couple bills from your clutch and passing them to the bouncer who happily lets you in.

The music is so loud vibrating through your whole body. When you glance at Steve the grimace on his face makes a laugh soundlessly burst from you. He glances down and shakes his head, not understanding how this is fun. You pull him toward the dancefloor but he refuses, heading against the wall on the edge of the sea of bodies.

Conceding you hold your hands up and begin moving with the music, hips swaying, arms lifting. It takes moments before someone joins you, his hands sliding over your sides moving just barely. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t him you were interested in.

Steve watches you, occasionally looking at other dancers, the very image of out of place in his suit, arms crossed back leaned against the wall. Maybe this really wasn’t for him… He wasn’t insisting to leave though so you let yourself just feel the music.

After a few songs a woman on one of the raised platforms gets your attention, insisting you come up. It’s not far from Steve’s parking spot so you go with it. The bass starts hard and your bodies press close. You spin her in your arms, her head falls back onto your shoulder as she grinds against you in time with the music. Two men watch close to the platform and she beckons them up.

As you move with one of the men you notice Steve’s stepped away from the wall just a bit, his eyes on you. You hold his gaze. Slowly he makes his way toward your perch. You drop low, ignoring the whoop from your near forgotten dance partner at the move, his hands greedily grasping for you as you raise up. But Steve is at the edge of the platform.

His head is about at your pelvis as you stand before him, body still reacting to the music. You rest your hand on his head, fingers gripping his hair, gently tilting his head back as you swing your hips wide holding onto those blue eyes, flashing with the colors of the lights. His tongue flits out for just a second, moistening his pink lips. Once more you drop with the beat. Your free hand catches his tie as you rise.

Steve’s hands reach up, grabbing you just below your hip bones. As if you weigh nothing he lifts you off the platform setting you in front of him. There’s a self-satisfied look on his face, no doubt over your surprised expression that quickly morphs into a greedy grin.

You run your hands up his torso and over his chest. Slipping a finger under the knot of his tie you tug it lose until it hangs undone. Swaying to the music you undo a few of the buttons on his crisp white shirt, barely grazing the golden chest hair that peeks out. He slides the suit jacket off, tossing it over the crowd, obviously not caring that it’s easily worth two grand. You’d buy him another.

Resting your hands on his hips you coax him to move with the music. Again, he’s full of surprises, getting the hang of it quickly. You turn and press close to him, his hands gliding over you before holding at your swaying hips. Reaching back you hook a hand around his neck, head falling onto his shoulder. There’s nothing but the two of you and the music despite the press of the people around you. His breath on your neck making your heart stutter in your chest.

After two songs you’re about ready to have him right in the middle of this crowded dance floor if he’d let you. As much as you wish that could be the case you know better… you need to get yourself together.

Turning to face him you press your lips close to his ear. His hands run down your back, pulling you tight against him. It takes everything in you to say, “I’m going to the restroom. Be back,” rather than asking if he’d like to fuck you in the restroom. He nods and releases you. Unsurprisingly, he follows, leaning against the wall next to the narrow hall leading to the bathrooms.

You wet a paper towel with cold water, pressing it to your flushing chest and racing pulse. Staring at yourself in the mirror you silently coach yourself to get your head out of your ass. The two of you need to go someplace so you can tell him-

You’re so distracted you don’t notice the person behind you. Until your face slams into your reflection. The assailant lands a blow to the middle of your spine. You cry out, pain blossoming. Whirling you grab their wrist before the knife can plunge into you.

“Bitch you ruin this dress I’ll gut you.” The knife clatters to the floor, your hand twisting the wrist back with a jerk. They swing, fist meeting your jaw. Stumbling they throw you through the swinging door back first. The wall catches you. Reaching under your skirt you pull one of your pistols free and let loose a shot. It misses, barely, despite you hardly aiming. The shock has its desired effect and they’re distracted.  

Screams react to the sound of the shot and you bolt for the exit at the end of the hall. You sprint into the alley for an instant before something sharp and burning buries itself in your upper thigh causing you to drop to your knees. In an instant they’re on you, arm choking you. Without luck, you try to fling them off but they’ve got weight on you and you can’t get purchase.

Your head is beginning to float from lack of oxygen when they’re pulled off you. Falling onto your hands you gasp for air, coughing. Before you can turn they’re thrown down the alley, slamming hard into the dumpster. Seemingly unconscious they slump to the ground.

“Zelda!” Steve kneels before you gripping your shoulders. “Are you ok?!”

You cock an eyebrow, about to make a snarky comment when you see the guy rise to his feet, gun drawn, aimed at Steve. Reflexively you grab the pistol on your other thigh and shoot, aim perfect, the bullet nestled between the man’s brows.

Steve jerks up and stares, noticing the gun as it falls from the man’s grip. His eyes turn back to you, filled with questions. “Better now.” You offer a crooked smile and rise to your feet groaning.

He steadies you as you reach to your leg and pull out the blade. “Fuck,” you hiss between your teeth tossing it to the side. A few civilians are at the mouth of the alley, gawking at the scene. Great.

“I’ve gotta call this in,” he reaches for his phone.

“Of course you do,” you grumble, slipping out of your heels before the right one fills with blood.

-

As you support yourself against the wall, taking the weight off your injured leg, Steve dials Romanoff. He lays out the situation, she assures him it can be dealt with.

“Not the first time an agent’s had a bar fight go bad, Rogers,” she laughs.

“That’s not the situation. We also need a medic, someone has-” he turns to look at you and… of fucking course you’re gone. “Never mind. They’re fine.”

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4@piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 

[bubmyg]

of equine considerations - ksj

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre: ceo!au, fluff, is there really a plot here? kind of

word count: 2,180

summary: what the hell do you get the best thing to ever happen to you who’ve you’ve already given everything you can think of or where seokjin runs into you in a boutique down the block from his office looking at the exact same teddy bear figurine he’d been coming after

a/n: part 5 of aicaib!!! we are nearing the end ladies :’-) again, tumblr’s link situation sucks, if you need the series masterlist lmk!!!

There was a piece of paper pasted to the corner of stained red oak, the signature line prominent and starred in bleeding red ink. It was just another multi million dollar investment that Kim Enterprise would endorse in the new year, just like the stack in a manilla folder on the opposite corner of the expansive desk, if only for the scrawl of Seokjin’s signature on the blank line. It was the third time he’d pushed it out of the way in favor of his home Macbook, backspace key and touch pad worn from his incessant clicking through the same three tabs.

The thick snowflakes ricocheting off the glass panel windows of his corner office mocked him, your shining eyes reflected in the crystal shapes as you ranted against his lips how there was to be a white Christmas this year. He’d smiled and kissed you back, letting you wrap his tie up in your fist and make him five minutes late to his morning appointment, one he could barely comprehend because his thoughts were flooded with your towering tree in the foyer that had not one present underneath it that was addressed from him to you.

Seokjin’s office chair groaned as he stretched backward in it, arms tucking behind his head, fingers thrust in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. The first tab of three glared at him first, a local floral shop that sold towering arrangements. He had the most expensive one open, bursting and overflowing in all the bright flowers you’d fawn over in your garden when spring finally melted the snow that was falling outside.

He barely blinked, index finger tracking the touchpad to close the tab. Flowers were a Valentine’s Day gift. A I was just thinking of you on the way home gift. A gift not for the middle of winter.

“Can you wrap flowers?” Seokjin mumbled to himself, replacing the tab with that question. The answer was a clear yes.

The second tab was a travel website, three different trips to somewhere tropical dropped into his listings. He had the power to control his own schedule but not yours, knowing your work wouldn’t let you off until at least the summer, knowing that he couldn’t really afford to leave the company to Yoongi in the midst of their busiest quarter, anyway.

And even then, when you were that excited about snow, who was he to retch you out of it? He closed that tab too.

Sometime, offhandedly, you’d mentioned picking up a new hobby. “Maybe horseback riding,” You’d informed Namjoon’s wife, white wine delicate in your ringed fingers as Seokjin had watched you swallow down a languid sip.

Whether you’d mentioned that a year into your marriage or just last week at the company Christmas gala, Seokjin couldn’t remember.

The last tab was an advert for lessons at a nearby stable with the history including the price of hiring contractors to build your own barn just outside your gardens and an endless number of listings for the best Warmbloods money could buy. It was stupid and pretentious and not anything Seokjin could see you being excited about for more that ten seconds just to spare his ego.

He closed that tab too, now left staring at your grinning face beyond his clutter of work files that had somehow crept into his personal device. The laptop shut with a resounding thud, his elbows knocking into the lid as he hunched over his desk, head in his hands. One arm slipped off the laptop when he groaned and suddenly a concerned voice was hushing to him.

“Mr. Kim? Are you alright? Mr. Kim? Seokjin, I’ll come in there, what is—”

He was out the door, cutting off his secretary’s voice abruptly in the process as he came to loom over her desk, fingers gripping at the wood, feet crossing at the ankles as he sighed.

“Mr. Kim, what can I—”

“Minseo,” Seokjin began slowly, voice deliberate, calculated, “I need your help.”

She blinked, brushing away the pile of paperwork in front of her, fingers fiddling together, “Go on.”

“I haven’t got my wife anything,” He winced when Minseo’s mouth rounded in some sort of shocked horror, “and I’m not making any progress on what to get her.”

“Would you like me to order her something and have it sent to the estate?”

“No,” Seokjin searched behind him, dragging one of the two generic chairs closer to plop backward into it. He fiddled at the cuffs of his white dress shirt, dragging them over his elbows as he loosened his tie, running his fingers through his hair for good measure. “I want you to talk to me like a friend,” He cocked an eyebrow, “What do I get her?”

Her expression softened, bracelets clattering to her desktop as she dropped her arms against the surface. “Jin, I know Y/N, but not like you do,” She tilted her head, “What does she like?”

“Lots of things,” He dragged incessant fingers across his face, scratching underneath his chin, “She likes to take the sugar gliders out of their cages and let them roam around inside one of my giant hoodies. She says it’s like their own playground. She also likes to garden, but only specific flowers, and the color scheme has to match. I witnessed her pull out an entire marigold plant with her bare hands because the yellow contrasted with her ‘aesthetic’. She likes to watch fireworks and has endless polaroids of them hanging on a corkboard in her office.”

His voice dropped a bit, “She likes it when I take three day weekends because it gives her an excuse to use her ridiculous amount of vacation time. And she likes it when we’re both home without responsibility. Just being together, you know?”

Minseo hummed, considering Seokjin with a fond glint in the tiny smile that curved on her lips. “Well, I assume another sugar glider is out of the question. Flowers aren’t really a Christmas gift. I don’t trust you to light off fireworks and…” She studied him with cross eyebrows, “...you have taken off Christmas Eve and day, correct?”

“Yeah,” He spoke through fingers now splayed across his cheeks, thumbs sandwiching his lips, “What do I do?”

“I’ll tell you what—” She rolled around to her computer, shaking the mouse to bring the blank screen back to life. She clicked around for a second before speaking to him, “—have you ever been to the boutique down the block?”

Seokjin squinted, “The what?”

Minseo laughed, snatching a royal blue post it note from a stack in the corner of her desk. After scrawling for a second, she thrust it at him. “Take the rest of the day off and go to this address,” She watched him as he stood, still staring at the address pasted to his thumb like it was in a foreign language, “Just buy her something small and cute that she can keep around the house. Maybe an ornament for the tree.”

He nodded, dumbly albeit, nearly tripping over himself to collect his coat and keys, address still fluttering from his fingers as he navigated through the office for the elevator.

“It’s the little things, Mr. Kim!” Minseo called, shooting him a beaming thumbs up as the elevator doors slid to a close.

His towering SUV felt out of place parked next to the miniature smart car and off white sedan both dirtied in snow and salt residue. The engine rolled over, heat in the cabin immediately escaping as he stared absently through the blankets of falling snow. Giant adverts were pasted to the clear windows of the quaint shop, advertising a new collection of scarves, the newest snowglobes adorned in Disney characters, and a whole display of stone like figurines.

It was a tiny face in the corner of the aqua blue advert that caught his attention, a tiny teddy bear figurine clutching onto a group of neon colored balloons. Seokjin’s first thought was that would like nice on the bedside table, a place you reserved for decorations that didn’t quite match the rest of the house. It was filled with you, a trophy you’d received for your club, co-ed water polo team in college, a framed employee of the month certificate, a lanyard from your honeymoon adorned in pretty pink flowers.

Something about the bear’s face screamed you and suddenly he had to have it.

Seokjin was first distracted by the overwhelming sweet scent that smacked against his cheeks. It was somewhere between pine needles, vanilla, and warmth, swirling around and clinging to the fabric of his suit jacket he tucked a little tighter to his torso. It was an entire wall of ornaments next, all covered in some layer of glitter and shining in vibrant paints over delicate glass.

He eyed a bell out of curiosity, black with a striped bow wired at the top near the hook. His index finger poked at the curved outer shell, an audible gasp of surprise tumbling off his tongue when the bell actually made a tinkling ding.

He fled that wall quickly.

There was too much, too many knit beanies and knit scarves and knit potholders, too many snow globes with intricate characters he didn’t recognize, too many glass vases he would use as wine glasses if he didn’t know better, too much. He’d shrugged off the workers milling about the nearly deserted store one too many times, his clueless expression and noises of discontent giving him away even without a verbal confirmation.

Seokjin was nearly caught by the one at the register, one who’d been glaring at him for the five minutes he’d been turning a paperweight over in his palms, one that contained glitter that floated around every time you moved the heavy glass. He avoided her, though, dropping the glass back to its shelf with a resounding clatter before side stepping around one of the aisles.

And directly into someone.

He noticed the display before him first, coated in the very figurines on the advert outside. There were rabbits and bears and sock monkeys and elephants, all tiny and cute and holding various items. His eyes roamed down the shelf, zeroing in on what appeared to be the only bear, his bear, it’s tiny balloons held proudly over it’s head like the triumphant smile that stretched to his lips as he leaned in and snatched it into his grasp.

And then he remembered he’d smacked into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Jin?”

A familiar hand squeezed at the apex of his elbow and suddenly he was staring into your half confused, half enraged, half endeared eyes. You cocked your head, hair falling into your eyelashes, smile growing wider as the horrified round of his lips did.

“What are you doing here?” Seokjin babbled nearly incoherent.

“What are you doing here, mister?” The hand on his arm shoved lightly at his torso, “And with my bear too.”

“Your bear?” He childishly held the figurine closer to his chest before he realized, “I mean, yeah, I was going to buy it for you.”

“I was going to buy it for you.”

His eyebrows went through various emotions, mostly confusion and amusement, “You were what?”

“I thought you’d think it was cute,” Your bottom lip worried between your teeth as you shrugged, suddenly bashful, “Maybe keep it on your desk or something. I don’t know.”

Seokjin sighed, reaching to wrap an arm around your shoulders and bring you against his chest, lips against your forehead. “Darling, I was going to buy it for you,” He pecked your temple, “I thought it’d look nice on the bedside table.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, pressing your face against the lapel of his jacket. “Nothing underneath the tree is for you,” You mumbled finally.

His shoulders shook, laugh wheezing quietly, “Want to know a secret? I haven’t got you anything yet either.”

“I was going to buy you a new tie with donuts on it.”

“I was going to build a stable and buy you horseback riding lessons.”

“Jesus, Seokjin.”

“What?” He pinched your chin, bringing your gaze up to his so he could peck your cheek. “You mentioned it like once. Four years ago but. You mentioned it.”

“You know what I really want for Christmas?” He blinked for you to continue, “I want to bake shitty Christmas cookies in the oven and watch a bad romance movie and wear those ridiculously itchy sweaters Yoongi bought us all while our cute new bear friend watches us from the coffee table.”

Seokjin’s nose wrinkled, holding you a little bit tighter, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I think we can make that happen,” He fished for your hand, moving to pull you towards the register, “but you have to act surprised when you open the bear.”

“Who said you’re buying it?”

“Me.”

“You have no authority over me, Mr. Kim.”

“No,” Seokjin clutched onto your hand, ducking to peck your nose, “but I do have longer legs.”

“Wait, Jin, watch out for the—”