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shadowsndaisies · 6 months ago

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the hard deck: too observant to play dumb (pt 1)

wc: 1.7 k

synopsis: how the arrival at the hard deck went

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: hey yall! so fun fact it has been 8 years since I started this blog, and as a little thank you, I have a 3 part update to the athena-verse, the whole thing comprises the hard deck scene from the beginning of the movie and will end basically where athena settles debts starts. as always I hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want to be added to the tags!

You'd been standing with Jake and Javi when Nat finally walked in.

"Athena! I've been looking for you!" she shouts, pulling your attention away from the pool table you'd just set up with Javi.

"Oh shit, sorry 'Nix," you offer a half smile.

"Answer your god damn for when I call you," she groans, pointing menacingly at you.

"Yes, Ma'am," you mock salute before noticing the two men behind her. "Looks like you made new friends just fine though," you offer jokingly.

"Payback, Fanboy. Meet Athena, smoothest flier you'll ever see," Phoenix introduces, and you smile warmly at your friend before offering your hand to the two behind her.

"Nice to meet you fellas," you greet.

"High praise coming from Phoenix," Fanboy notes, shaking your head.

"Highest of the high, actually," Payback adds on.

"Yeah, well, there's almost no one I'd rather have on my wing than 'Nix," you compliment back. You were going to ask how they knew your friend, but someone else interrupted you before you could.

"Yo, are we playing or what?" you roll your eyes as you turn back to where Jake and Javi are standing and gesture to the three in front of you; you realize Jake is hunched over the table, lining up his next shot.

"I'm playing nice, Seresin. You should try it," you prod, and Javi manages a slight smirk at Jake.

Jake looks up and makes eye contact with you while landing a ball in a corner pocket, and you can't help but roll your eyes again, cocky bastard. When he straightens, he finally notices what has caught your attention. "Well, what do we have here? If it ain't Phoenix, and she found new friends," he smirks, walking around the table in your direction. "And here I thought we were special Coyote. Turns out the invite went out to anybody."

It's almost like a switch is flipped, you realize, watching as Jake now interacts with others. Cocky attitude inflating his ego in a way that was so Hangman but not necessarily Jake. Nat didn't believe you when you tried to explain that you saw past it, and that's why you were friends. She was confident in her reading, which fair, especially when he acted like this.

"Fellas this here is Bagman," she introduces, and you can already tell it's going to be a long detachment spent between your two friends, especially since they hate each other.

"Hangman," he corrects, tone slightly barbed.

"Whatever," Phoenix makes a face at him and rolls her eyes when she looks at you as if to say, C'mon Athena, don't you see what I'm talking about? "You're looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill," she adds on, turning back to Jake.

Your eyes narrow at the compliment-like a statement; however, you don't trust it for a second.

Hangman smiles, "Stop," he muses as he settles down beside you, bumping your shoulder with his as he does, full of pride like a peacock strutting his feathers.

"Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War," she clarifies, and you nod; you felt this was where she was taking it.

"Cold War," Coyote corrects, always one to back up his friends.

"Different wars, same century," Payback interjects.

"Not this one," Fanboy tacks on.

"Who're your friends?" Coyote asks, eyes dancing over the two on either side of Phoenix.

"Payback."

"Fanboy."

Both aviators introduce themselves with a simple nod, and you can't hide your smile of amusement. The testosterone was off the charts, and Nat was leading the bunch.

"Hey Coyote," she greets, eyes darting to Javi, and you fight the smirk at the look in her eye.

"Hey," he greets, dragging out the 'ey' a bit, and your eyes dart over to Jake just to find a knowing look already focused on you.

"Who's he?" Nat asks, nodding to the side.

"Who's who?" Coyote's brows had furrowed down, and then Nat turned to look at the quiet Aviator in glasses who'd been munching on peanuts while you played pool.

"When did you get in?" Coyote's voice floats over from behind you as you take a moment to observe your silent comrade.

"Oh, oh I've been here the whole time," he admits, and your brow quirks, and quickly you turn to look over at Jake.

"Man's a stealth pilot," you muse gently, and even Nat cracks a smile.

"Literally," Coyote nods.

"Weapons systems officer, actually," he corrects, and your lips twitch; he's adorable, you decide immediately.

"With no sense of humor," Jake huffs out.

You elbow him, and he gasps before standing and handing off the pool cue to Nat.

"What do they call you?" you ask, voice sweet.

"Bob," he answers, offering a hesitant smile in response to your wide one.

"No, your call sign," Payback clarifies.

He seems to hesitate, "uh.." he trails for a second, and you can read the nervous energy easily. "Bob," he repeats, and you frown a bit at the cautious undertones of his voice.

"Bob Floyd?" Nat asks. "You're my new backseater? From Leemore?" her tone had turned a bit incredulous. The smothered chortles from Payback and Fanboy were not nearly as covert as they seemed to think it was, based on the glares Nat was sending them.

"Looks like it, yeah," Bob confirms, and that nervous undertone is still there.

Nat pauses and looks at you. You tilt your head knowingly, and she nods, turning to the back seater.

"Nine ball, Bob. Rack 'em."

"Uh.. kay, yeah," he nods, standing and taking the pool cue outstretched in Natasha's hand.

You pat your friend's shoulder knowingly before turning to look for Jake. You spot him at the bar and start walking that way. You pause, though, when you see him talking to Penny, and then you realize who was on the other side of her and, most likely, who had just caused the bell to ring. Leave it to your dad to piss off the woman who loved him through his worst and best without even trying.

You're so focused on watching the interaction at the bar you miss it when he walks in.

"Bradshaw! That you?" Nat's voice rings out over the noise of the bar. It's only now starting to get busy, and you can't help the way your head snaps over to him.

You'd knew he'd be here. He said as much in his email, but being confronted by him and the past you avoided was something you decided then and there that you weren't ready for.

You're stuck, frozen, watching him interact with Phoenix.

"This is how I find out you're stateside?" she asks before lining up to take her next shot.

"Yeah I thought I'd surprise you," he responds with an easy camaraderie that you hadn't realized existed with the woman you considered to be one of your closest friends these days.

He's looking around the bar, not having spotted you yet, when Nat lets out a hum, taking her shot. Obviously, she lands another in the pocket; this was Phoenix we're talking about. She manages to hit Bradley in the gut with the end of the pool cue, forcing him to keel over a bit.

A petty and vindictive piece of you takes pleasure in that. But another piece, a little girl, she aches for the easygoing relationship and the best friend she once had.

"Guess I surprised you back," she smirks, facing Bradley.

He nods at her, "it's good to see you," he manages to huff out, slowly standing back up.

"It's good to see you too," she smiles, and he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, and you have to turn back around.

You're counting your breaths again, focusing on what you can see, touch, hear, taste, and smell. You realize too late that Jake's analyzing you. He'd seen how you stiffened up and focused on the interaction, and he saw how you forced yourself to turn around, away from Bradley.

He grabs the beers Penny offers him and a glass of something else, says something to Penny, you think, and then turns back, walking toward you. He places the glass in your hand with a whispered "G&T."

"Thanks," you manage to spit out.

"Where's your head?" he asks, voice still low, and you know that right now, no one is paying attention to the two of you.

"A little too far off the ground," you admit; it wasn't worth the effort to lie to Jake; generally, he saw through it anyway.

You notice how his eyes dart past you, looking at Brad and Nat, but he doesn't ask you about it. Instead, he asks, "What do you need?"

"Time machine?" you ask, eyes finally meeting his straight on instead of jumping around like they had been. He was good at that, asking the right questions; probably a perk of learning how to piss everyone off is also knowing when to pull back.

"Fresh out, I'm afraid," the drawl in his Texan accent always appeared early in the morning and late at night, but also when he drank. Your favorite appearance was in the whispers when he talked low, and it just tended to bleed into every word; it made you think of Jake the football star, Jake the kid who grew up on a ranch, a version of the man before you, you never got to meet.

"Then I guess I'll have to just… manage," you muse sourly.

"You always tend to do better than just manage, 'Thena," he reminds you.

"I don't know about that, at least not this time," you admit.

"This got something to do with Bradshaw?"

"You're too observant to play dumb," is how you answer.

"What, is this a kiss and not tell situation?" There's a cloud in the green of Jake's eyes as he asks, and you're tempted to answer, but quite honestly, you weren't sure if there was a statute of limitations on don't kiss and tell, and you're not sure if your first kiss when you were 13 counts.

"No, it's a different kind of history," is what you actually say. "I'll be okay, you go on though, I just need a minute," you urge.

Jake hesitates, not at all sold on what you'd said, but slowly, he takes a step forward and then another until he's approaching the pool table again.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes

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ichijager13 · 2 years ago

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Teach me how to be loved

Chapter IV

For a little piece of heaven

Pairing : Eren Jäger x reader

Characters: Eren Jäger, Annie Leonhart, Pieck Finger.

Tags: Unhealthy copping mechanism, unhealthy relationships, childhood trauma, physical and verbal abuse, self-esteem and trust issues, domestic violence, implied/ referenced cheating and a touch of sweet, lovable and non fuckboy Eren Jäger

Masterlist, AO3, Playlists : Reader’s POV, Eren’s POV

A/N: Hello, first of all, I would like to thank you for reading my story and for all the support you are giving the fic. it warms my heart and motivates me to give you more. From now on I will update the story twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays.

PS: I am not a german speaker so if you ever spot tippos don't hesitate to let me know.

You readjusted your glasses for the hundredth time this afternoon. You spent most of the day in your study working on your latest project. Tapping your bottom lip with your pencil you tried to decide if the design was put together or if you need to open a new file and start all over again. You were so far gone in your thoughts when you heard your phone buzzing. Someone was calling you, Eren was calling you.

“Hello”. You spoke massaging your blurry eyes.

“Hey, how are you doing?” You felt micro shockwaves creeping up your spine when you heard his deep voice from the other end of the line.

“Fine, how about you?” You replied after what seemed to be an eternity to you.

“Doing well, thanks. So, about the sketchbook”. You closed your laptop and focused on his voice. “Does tomorrow work for you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be at work”.

“At what time do you finish?”

“4 PM”.

“Okay, I’ll text you before I come”. He added before wishing you a good evening and hanging up.

You spent the rest of your Sunday trying to finish your assignment.

Once he finished signing all the papers his secretary left him and all his meetings, he left his office heading to his best friend’s company. He sent you a message as soon as he arrived. “I’m at the parking lot”. The message read.

You were about to leave your desk when you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. Once outside, your eyes scanned the parking lot looking for him. Frowning, you pulled out your phone.

You were about to call and ask where he was when you heard a panting voice coming from behind you. “I was on the other side. I saw you heading this way”. He tried to catch his breath before handing you a paper bag. “I went through it; I hope you don’t mind”. He confessed watching you flipping the pages of the notebook before putting it back inside the paper bag. Your lips curved up when you noticed the box of chocolate he slipped inside the bag.

“No, I don’t”. you looked up at him. “Thank you, it’s my favorite”. You followed.

“You are quite talented”.

“Thank you, Euh… I was thinking…”. You mentally kicked yourself for stuttering. “I would love to… Can I offer you a drink or something to thank you for bringing it back”. You were shifting the bag from one hand to another. “If you are free, of course”. You spoke consciously giving your brain the chance to process each word you uttered.

“I know a quiet place not far from here”. He had to double his efforts to repress the smile threatening to make its way across his lips when he noticed you were slightly blushing.

“Lead the way”. You mumbled.

“You know I thought you were Annie’s friend”. He spoke, after ordering. “I didn’t know you work for Armin”.

“I am in fact, friends with Annie, we used to work together before she got married”. You clarified. “We know each other for six years now”. you followed. “I met Armin through her, and though they firmly deny it, I’m positive she suggested for him to hire me”.

As the hours tick away, you understood why you never could resist him. Eren was a cheerful person and fun to be around. The conversation was reaching an interesting point when you were interrupted by his ringtone. “You can take it, I don’t mind”, Noting he was hesitating, you said smiling.

He flashed you a smile before taking the call. “Halo, mutty… Was ist los? (Hello, mom… what’s wrong?)” He asked alarmed. “Wo? (Where?)” Another silence. “I’m on my way, mach dir keine Sorgen. (Don’t worry)”. He added. “I’m sorry, I have an emergency, I need to go”. He spoke after he hung up. “I’ll make it up for you later, I promise”. He followed standing up and you simply nodded. He shot you an apologetic smile before paying for your consumption and leaving the coffee shop.

“Good evening, I’m here for a patient, a young girl, she arrived minutes ago, a four-year-old girl”. Words were spilling out of his mouth.

“Name please”. The receptionist asked.

“Sophie Jäger”. He nervously tapped his food.

“Yes, she arrived ten minutes ago, sir. The doctor is seeing her now”.

“Where?”

“I’m afraid you can’t…”

“I’m her father”. Losing his calm, he cut her and handed her his ID.

“The second stand on your left”. She replied.

“There, there sweetheart”. The nurse cooed. “We will be done in a minute”.

“Vater”. The girl’s eyes welled up with tears when he came into her field of view.

“It’s alright, mein liebling. Ich bin hier jetzt (I’m here now)”. He kneeled in front of his daughter holding her small hands. “I’m her father”. He spoke to the nurse doing her bandages.

“There’s nothing to be worried about, Mr. Jäger. The doctor has prescript a pain killer and medicine in case she got a fever”. She caressed the girl’s hair smiling fondly. “The cut needs to be cleaned every two days”. she glanced at the dark-haired man facing her and then at the middle-aged woman. “Accidents like this happen often, right Mrs. Jäger? She will be alright”. She smiled when Carla nodded.

“But her face is swollen”. His voice was filled with concern.

“It’s a normal reaction. It will be gone in no time”. She reassured him. “And we’re done, you are a brave girl, Sophie”. She offered the toddler candy before handing the prescription to Eren. “See you on Wednesday”. She smiled at her once again before heading to the next patient.

“What happened?” Eren asked Carla.

“Sie spielte mit ihrem Fahrrad, als sie hinfiel. (She was playing with her bicycle when she fell)”. His mom answered helping her granddaughter put on her jacket. “Ich war drinnen, als es passierte. (I was inside when it happened)”. She added smoothing her hair before pecking her cheek. “Ich eilte nach draußen, als ich sie weinen hörte. Zum Glück war Sieg zu Hause. He drove us here. (I rushed outside when I heard her crying. Luckily, Sieg was home)”. She looked up at her son. “It was him who did her stitches”.

He pressed his lips to his mother’s forehead before picking up his daughter. “How about we go home? Ich bleibe über Nacht. (I will stay over tonight)”. He said cheerfully.

“Will you read me a story?” Sophie stared at her father with big pleading green eyes.

“Of course, my princess”. Once in the car, he sent his brother a message thanking him and letting him know they are leaving. “wer will Eis? (Who wants ice cream?)” He asked leaving the parking lot. Both grandmother and daughter rose their hands, lips curved into a bright smile.

“Vatty”.

“Ja, mein hase?” he ran a hand across her face checking her temperature, relieved she doesn’t have a fever.

“Tell me a story about mutty”. She asked.

He put her to bed and tucked her blanket under her chin before taking a deep breath. Sophie didn’t get the chance to know her mother who passed away during labor. Alongside Armin, Mikasa was Eren’s childhood friend. They all grew up together and eventually, Eren fell in love with her. They got married after Mikasa graduated from school and a year later Sophie was born.

While she had her father’s bright eyes, Sophie was the spitting image of her mother.

“See the plushie that looks a little like me?” He pointed at a toy set on her nightstand, she nodded. “deine Mutter hat es für mich gemacht. Wir waren in deinem Alter. (it’s your mother who made it for me. we were your age)”. Amazed, her eyes sparkled. “Your grandma was good at sewing, that’s how Mikasa learned”.

“Und oma?”

“No, she’s not”. He snickered. “aber das soll unter uns bleiben. (But this should stay between us)”. He whispered, trying to sound serious.

“Okay”. She giggled.

“Do you pinky promise?”

“Ja”. She held her finger to seal the promise. “Vatty”. He hummed in response checking her bandages. “Sleep in bed with me, bitte (please)”.

“Okay, Lass mich einfach meinen Schlafanzug anziehen. (Just let me put on my pajamas)”. She nodded visibly happy.

“Still up?” He frowned noticing his mother was still in the living room.

“I was waiting for you”. she answered. “schläft sie? (Is she sleeping)” he bobbed his head taking place on the opposite sofa. “Es ist schon eine Weile her, seit du hier übernachtet hast. (It’s been a while since you spent the night here)”. She added.

“sie bat mich, ihr eine geschichte über Mikasa zu erzählen. (She asked me to tell her a story about Mikasa)”. He closed his eyes. “I told Ymir I’m taking the day off tomorrow”. He followed.

“That would be nice”. Carla commented. “Er vermisst dich sehr. (She misses you a lot)”.

“Ich vermisse sie auch aber mein Zeitplan lässt es nicht zu.... (I miss her too but my schedule does not allow me to…)”.

“I know, liebling”. She cut him. “Go back before she wakes up”. she offered him a genuine smile.

“Gutte nacht”. He pecked her temple before going upstairs.

After checking once more his child’s temperature he slipped under the blanket next to her. Feeling her father’s presence, Sophie let go of her plushie -the one Mikasa made for him- and scooted closer. She buried her face in his neck mumbling undistinguished words. He caressed her dark locks smiling. “Schlaf gut, mein Hase, Daddy ist hier, um dich zu beschützen. (Sleep well, my bunny, daddy is here to protect you)”.

Drifting to sleep, he remembered you. he smiled recalling your flushed cheeks when you invited him. he made a mental note to text you tomorrow morning.

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wheelsupin-five · 2 years ago

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I posted 7,966 times in 2022

That's 4,352 more posts than 2021!

411 posts created (5%)

7,555 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@freakwiththeknifecollection

@badass-magizoologist

@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

@cold-egg

@hattalove

I tagged 6,156 of my posts in 2022

Only 23% of my posts had no tags

#0 - 2,231 posts

#eddie - 832 posts

#buck - 731 posts

#buddie - 724 posts

#marvel - 483 posts

#spn - 365 posts

#911 spoilers - 344 posts

#lincoln.txt - 298 posts

#fic - 229 posts

#fanart - 219 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i think the 118 should have a game night and doing that game where you have to mime the answer someone (probably buck) decides to do eddie

My Top Posts in 2022:

Accidentally By Mistake

Summary:

How do you accidentally kiss the person you’ve been thinking about for years and not even realise it?

“It was an accident,” Buck says, his words muffled by his hands.

“You kissed him accidentally?” Lucy says. “I can’t believe I missed it.”

Relationships: Buck/Eddie

A/N: Hi! this is my first 911 fic :) This one goes out to Saga, and all my friends who clapped and cheered for me when I said I’d written this <3

Wc: 1401 Read it on Ao3

Buck’s sitting on the couch, handing Chimney’s ass to him in Halo when he sees Eddie quickly approaching him from the corner of his eye. He ducks his character undercover, as Chim makes a break for one of the corridors.

“What’s up?” Buck asks when he can feel Eddie’s presence behind him. He may not have laid an eye on him yet, but tension is radiating off him.

“Chris is sick, I have to go pick him up.”

“Is he okay?” Buck tips his head back to look up at him. A small smile breaks through Eddie’s tight expression when their eyes meet. He pauses the game, earning a small huff from Chim.

“Yeah, he’ll be okay. Carla is fully booked today so I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back to finish the shift.” Eddie shifts like he’s contemplating leaving at that.

“Hey,” Buck reaches up and grabs a handful of Eddie’s LAFD button down to loosely hold him in place, “relax your jaw, drop your shoulders. Chris will be fine. And I’m sure Ravi won’t mind picking up the slack for half a shift.” He says with a half-smile. “I’ll drop by tonight. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, Buck.”

Eddie drops his hand to Buck’s shoulder before leaning down, Buck’s hand going to the side of Eddie’s face, fingers curling around the back of his head as he half successfully presses a kiss to Buck’s lips.

“See you later,” Eddie mumbles against him. Buck hums in agreement. “See ya guys,” Eddie calls with a wave before he disappears down the stairs.

It’s dead silent and Buck can feel all eyes on him.

Beside him, Chimney is looking at him slack-jawed and Hen and Ravi’s eyes are glued to him from the table.

“What?” Buck asks, looking between them like there was some joke he wasn’t in on or he’d just done something terribly wrong.

Hen hesitates. “Is that how you decided to tell us?”

Buck blinks.

No one clarifies, and the air feels tight enough to shatter.

Oh.

Eddie kissed him.

Oh.

He kissed Eddie.

“Did we miss something here?” Bobby walks from his office with Lucy close behind him, slowing as he approaches them, obviously feeling the tension.

“No,” Buck chokes out, his heart catching in his throat.

“Nope,” Hen says, dragging her eyes from Buck. Chim and Ravi hesitantly echo her.

See the full post

124 notes - Posted May 23, 2022

Thinking abt how eddie held bucks hand while he was trapped under the ladder truck

163 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

Buck has his own toothbrush that lives permanently in the Diaz's bathroom

244 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

I cant wait for this WIP to be updated! I wonder what will happen next! My brother in christ you're the author of this WIP

271 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Do you understand

356 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, I love your writing! Could you maybe do like Marlene makes Sirius and Remus do the boyfriend tag for the lions media page and the questions are just a mix of cute, normal things and then really really not so cute normal things 👀

I may have gotten a little carried away with this ideas, whoops! There isn’t much ~spicy~ stuff here, but if you guys liked it I’ll do a part 2! Writing this was easily the best part of my day. Credit for Coops and Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove!

“Hello, everyone, I’m Dorcas Meadowes, and welcome back to Lion Pride!” Dorcas smiled at the camera and waved. “Today I’m here with team captain Sirius Black and our newest player, Remus Lupin, for the boyfriend tag. They’ll be asking each other a series of questions and they are legally obligated to answer honestly!”

“Wait, really?” Remus asked, his eyes wide.

“No, but it’s a good idea anyway.” Dorcas shuffled the small stack of notecards in her hands and passed half to each of them. “I’m here to supervise and clarify if you need it.”

“Alright, first question: how did we meet?” Sirius grinned. “Take your time on this one.”

“We met in the PT room before I was formally introduced to the team because Pots unscrewed the lids of the Gatorade bottles and the spout hit you in the eye.”

“Oh my god, I forgot about that!” Sirius turned to the camera. “Watch out, Pots, vengeance is coming.”

“Question number two,” Remus laughed. “If we’re going out to eat, where are we going?”

“Sid’s.” They said in unison.

“Number three: What’s one food I don’t like?”

Remus paused and bit his lip. “That’s a tough one. You’re kind of like a black hole for food. Uh, maybe pickles?”

“Yeah, I hate pickles.” Sirius shuddered dramatically. “Leave the poor zucchini alone.”

“Pickles are made from cucumbers.”

“Same difference.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Moving on!” Dorcas interrupted. “Remus, you’re up.”

“This is why we need a supervisor,” he said to the camera. “Okay, question four. How many siblings do I have?”

Sirius lit up and beamed at him. “One! Jules!”

“Your number-one fan,” Remus teased.

Sirius glanced down at the next card and barked out a laugh. “Oh, I’m going to get roasted so hard here. Am I a morning person or a night person?”

“You are the earliest early bird of all time and it’s terrible,” Remus groaned. “Six a.m. rolls around and he’s wide awake while I’m barely a person until eight, and that’s assuming I’ve had coffee.”

“You’re the cutest zombie I’ve ever seen at seven in the morning,” Sirius said.

“Aw, babe. Question six: what’s our song?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t know.”

“I was going to say, I don’t think we have one yet.”

“We’re taking suggestions if anyone has ideas,” Sirius said to the camera. “What’s my best friend’s name.”

“Harry Potter,” Remus answered without hesitating. “You only like Pots for his baby.”

“True.”

Remus started to read the next card, then looked to Dorcas. “Do I have to ask this one?”

“Yes!”

“Cover your ears, everyone. What’s my nickname?”

“LOOPS!” Sirius shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “But to me it’s mon loup. What’s my weirdest habit?”

Remus dropped his face into his hands. “Your order of operations. To anyone out there who still thinks Sirius Black is cool—stop kicking me!—last night he got stuck in his t-shirt because he was brushing his teeth at the same time.”

“It’s efficient!” Sirius protested, poking him in the calf one more time. “You don’t appreciate me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Remus kissed him on the cheek. “Okay, what’s one of my special talents?”

“Hockey.”

“That doesn’t count,” Dorcas said.

“Bummer. You can sing really well.”

Remus’ ears went pink. “I don’t know about really well.”

“You do it all the time!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m good at it!” They both laughed until Dorcas cleared her throat.

“Sorry, sorry. Question number…something. If you were baking me a birthday cake, what flavor would it be?”

Remus snorted. “Bold of you to assume I can bake. But if I could, I’d do a vanilla cake with chocolate frosting.”

“You’d steal all the frosting off it, wouldn’t you.”

“Oh, definitely. Next question! Where was I born?”

Sirius was quiet for a solid ten seconds. “…Wisconsin?”

“What, the entire state?”

“I know you were born in a hospital.”

“Do you have any idea how many Wisconsin hospitals there are?”

“Well, you were only born in one of them.” Sirius shrugged. “I give up, what city?”

“I’m not telling you. You can call my mom and ask when we’re done here.”

“She’d tease me for days. I’ll get it out of you eventually.” Sirius shook his head and turned back to the cards. “Oh, here’s a good one: could you tell I liked you?”

Remus burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? No!”

Sirius turned to face the camera. “If anyone out there doesn’t know the whole situation, we basically just stared at each other for, like, a year before anything happened.”

“I think the first time I started picking up on it was when I came back from vacation and got a fifteen-second hug from this one,” Remus said, pointing his thumb toward Sirius. “At that point I kind of went ‘…wait a minute’.”

“Let’s do the next question before you spill any more embarrassing stories.” Remus’ smile turned sharp. “Oh, no.”

“What was your first impression of me?”

“Hot.” Sirius’ eyebrows shot up. “Woah, I said that way too fast, didn’t I?”

“A little bit, but I appreciate it.”

“Are you comfortable with PDA?” Sirius looked over at Dorcas. In lieu of an answer, Remus scooted over on their shared couch and settled down in Sirius’ lap. “Hello.”

“Hi. As you can see, I can’t stand it if you even breathe on me in public.”

“God forbid we make eye contact.”

“In all honesty, I think we’ve already crossed the PDA bridge,” Remus said. “Once pictures of you and your boyfriend making out go viral, there’s really no incentive to tone it down. My turn: who’s my favorite musician?”

“Fucking ABBA.” Sirius let his head fall on the back of the couch. “Sorry, I mean ABBA.” Remus started whistling the intro to ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme’ and Sirius scrambled for his notecards. “What’s my favorite time of the year?”

It took Remus a minute to catch his breath from laughing. “Uh, fall. Autumn. We have the same favorite, actually.”

“It’s a great season. You get hockey, big sweaters, and there’s still a little bit of sunshine.”

“Halloween, too,” Remus added. “Oh, shit, you’re going to have a field day with this one. What word do I use the most?”

“Jeez.” Sirius gave him a big smooch on the cheek. “Such a Midwesterner. Where was our first kiss?”

“Pascal Dumais’ guest room, on a dark and stormy night,’ Remus said. “We got snowed in for Sirius’ birthday party.”

“It was really romantic though.”

“Yeah.” Remus planted a quick kiss on his lips before grabbing the next card. “Who would win in an argument?”

“What’s the argument about?” Sirius asked. “Dorcas, is there a specification?”

“I think we trade off,” Remus mused. “We don’t fight much.”

“Nah. Kissing or cuddling?”

“What about it?”

“Which one do each of you prefer?” Dorcas clarified. She hadn’t stopped smiling since the interview started.

“Ohhhhh.” Remus readjusted himself in Sirius’ lap so he was leaning against the armrest more. “I mean, both are great.”

“Agreed.”

“Last question for me!” Remus waved his final notecard in Sirius’ face. “How would you describe my style? Tread carefully, Cap.”

Sirius thought hard for a moment. “This is a dangerous question, Dorcas. Um, you’re going to hate me for this.”

“Spit it out, Black.”

“Sexy librarian?”

“Fuck off.”

“See! I told you!”

“Sexy librarian? Really? At least I own clothing other than monochrome t-shirts!”

“I have my game day suit, too.”

“…the suit is nice.”

Dorcas was laughing too hard to get them back on track, so Marlene had to motion at them from behind the camera. “Sorry, Marlene, we’ll finish up. Okay, Fruit Loop, am I a dog or a cat person?”

“I think you love dogs more than you love me,” Remus said. “You don’t hate cats, though.”

“First of all, that’s not true, I love you most.” Sirius kissed him soundly on the lips. “Second of all, Regulus is enough of a cat person for both of us.”

“I was genuinely afraid we’d come home and find out he’d adopted eight kittens while he was still living with us. Dorcas, is that it?”

“That’s it,” she confirmed, still dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Great job, you guys killed it. Thanks for watching everyone, and make sure to stay updated with Lion Pride social media!”

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kissinginkitchens · 4 years ago

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Four: You Can Hear it in the Silence

a/n: hello again!! So glad to have you back :) I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. It's been wonderful to read some of your comments and thoughts! I do have to give a special shoutout to @harrysblackcoat and @determined-overthinker for their continued support and feedback, it really means the world to me, so a huge thank you to you both!! I am tremendously grateful for all of you lovely readers and I hope you will enjoy chapter four as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, my inbox is open, so feel free to drop by and chat with me after reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content

Word Count: 6.7k

read parts one, two, and three

“You kissed him?” Maleah gasps over FaceTime, her mouth so wide, Alani fears her jaw will detach from its socket.

She had finally decided to tell her best friend everything, excluding the Rolling Stone details, nearly two days after the last time she had seen Harry. The entire next day had been spent replaying every moment and listening to the recorded interview on her voice notes until the phone battery was completely drained. Alani’s stomach fluttered at the sound of Harry’s voice and it only made her miss him more. The part that she desperately needed her friend’s input on was what had happened immediately before she left.

“No,” Alani clarifies, quickly. “Well, almost. Maybe—I think,”

“I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks,” Maleah starts, brows furrowed as if her brain is malfunctioning. “And you’re already swooping in on my man?”

Alani feels her cheeks warm but she pushes past it and rolls her eyes. “There is no swooping going on,”

“I don’t know. You two were caught in the rain together, sounds like swooping to me,”

“But that’s the thing,” Alani huffs. “I don’t know what it is. And I don’t know if I’m just making a big deal out of nothing,”

Maleah nods understandingly and pushes any jealousy out of her mind, the love for her best friend winning out.

“Well, tell me exactly what happened before the kiss,”

“There was no kiss,” Alani emphasizes, thinking back to the last few minutes spent in Harry’s car.

The sun had already set when the two of them arrived at her house, leaving little light in the already darkly tinted Range Rover. But even in the darkness, Alani could see the intensity in Harry’s eyes. Their bodies had been close enough in the confined space that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, and his vanilla scent enveloped her in an intoxicating haze. For a moment, her eyes had darted to his plush lips and she imagined what it would feel like to close the space between them. She could have sworn that he had done the same, finding his eyes wandering just below the tip of her nose when she looked up. Before anything could happen, however, she found herself reaching for the door handle and stepping into the crisp night sky.

“But did you want him to kiss you?” Maleah questions.

Alani waits a beat, but she doesn’t have to think about the answer. “Yes,”

“Well there you go!” her friend responds enthusiastically. “Problem solved,”

“Problem not solved,” Alani corrects. “What about the fact that he’s, like, famous? I mean what happens when he has to go back to L.A. or London or whatever?”

“Woah, woah, woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,”

Alani anxiously nibbles on the skin of her lower lip, not stopping even when she tastes blood. “But it’s true—”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to think about it right now,” Maleah assures her. “What if you just let things happen and… enjoy it for what it is?”

Alani doesn’t miss the double meaning in the last part. “Mi, you and I both know that I’ve never been one to just enjoy it for what it is,”

“I know this, and I love you,” Maleah starts slowly. “But as your best friend—and I say this with nothing but love—you need to get laid, for real,”

Alani groans, slumping further into her mattress. “But what if that’s all he wants? I just don’t think I’m ready for that,”

“And that’s perfectly fine,” her friend coos. “But from what you’ve told me so far, it doesn’t sound like that’s all he’s after,”

Alani considers this for a moment before Maleah continues.

“Look, let’s start with something simple: do you like him? I mean, do you like spending time with him and just generally being around him?”

“Yes,”

“Then start there,” Maleah suggests. “You can enjoy someone’s company without making it romantic, it’s just friendship. Don’t put pressure on something that you’re not ready for, or something that might not even be there,”

Alani feels a small weight lifted off her shoulders and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, no you’re right I shouldn’t psych myself out over something that didn’t even happen. I mean, for all I know he has a girlfriend,”

She waits a beat before a new concern enters her mind. “Wait, does he have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well even if he does, it doesn’t matter,” Alani reaffirms. “Because we’re just friends,”

“When are you gonna see him again?” her friend asks.

Alani stomach drops. In all her concentration of the past, she hadn’t even considered what will happen when she has to face him again. “I don’t know,”

“Who initiated the last hang out?”

“He did,” Alani admits, thinking back to the hours he had spent reading in the café until her shift was over.

Maleah hums. “Well then it looks like the ball’s in your court,”

Alani is quiet for a moment, which her friend takes as her cue to offer some more reassurance.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more answers for you, Nani, but it’s gonna be okay. Promise, ”

Alani sighs, kneeling to look out the window next to her bed.

“No, Mi, it’s okay. I really appreciate you just being there, it means a lot,”

“Of course, babes. Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

The call ends and Alani continues watching the palm trees sway in the wind. Will do—the very same last words that she had spoken to Harry that night. Her mind wanders back to the moment right before she had opened the door to escape and plays out an alternative scenario. What would have happened if she had leaned just an inch closer?

********

Harry pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb. Will do, he repeats in his mind— two words that he never knew could carry so much weight.

“I said ‘I think Manchester United is shit,’” Nick Grimshaw says loudly, shrugging at Mitch and Jeff Bhasker when his plan doesn’t work. “I dunno, that should’ve gotten him,”

“Oh hey, Alani,” Mitch speaks into his phone loud enough for Harry to hear. This piques the singer’s attention immediately, his heart racing. “Yeah he’s right here,”

“What the fuck?” Harry questions, zeroing in on Mitch.

“Who’s Alani?” Nick teases with eyebrows raised into his hairline.

Harry springs from his seat and corners Mitch, who holds his phone above his head. “Gimme the phone!”

“Hello,” Nick interrupts, watching the struggle continue. “Feeling neglected here, who’s Alani?”

The guitarist ducks and sprints to the opposite wall, Harry chasing close behind. They hop from couch to couch and swerve around fragile equipment while Mitch snickers and guards his phone close. Harry had no idea why Alani was calling and why she hadn’t reached out to him directly, but he’s dying to hear her voice again and is growing increasingly frustrated with his friend’s antics.

“Mitchell, stop fuckin’ around!”

“I’m sorry,” he relents, holding out the phone with an amused laugh. “It wasn’t her, wrong number,”

Harry huffs and returns to his seat disappointedly, a guitar resting in his lap. Nick, who had only been able to drop in for the weekend due to his busy schedule at the BBC, narrows his eyes at both boys before speaking up again.

“Once again, no one has answered my question.”

“She’s just a girl he’s been hanging out with,” Jeff explains nonchalantly. “He wants to have her babies.”

“Don’t,” Harry warns.

Despite already having his fun, Mitch can’t resist adding on. “It’s none of our business… but I’ve heard a summer wedding is in the works.”

“I’m gonna go drink now,” Harry announces, standing. “And none of you fuckers are invited.”

He wanders down the hallway and into the kitchen, immediately reaching for the tequila. Is it too early for margaritas? he wonders before deciding that he wants a second opinion. No new texts are displayed on his phone screen, much to his disappointment, but he decides to open the messages app anyway. He carefully types in Alani’s name and writes, then re-writes, the text several times before pressing send. As soon as the tag reads “delivered”, his body is filled with apprehension, but there’s no turning back.

Harry: Is 10 a.m. too early for margaritas?

There’s a minute of silence, then two, and Harry turns his phone face down onto the counter to reach for the ingredients. It dings just as he opens the bottle of tequila and he immediately lunges for it.

Alani: Never. Morning margs were invented for a reason.

Relief. He quickly types out a risky response.

Harry: Any chance I can convince you to join me?

He stares at the screen, willing the “delivered” to turn into a “read,” but it doesn’t budge. His lips ghost over the rim of the tequila bottle before he bites the bullet and takes a sip.

Alani: Working :( sorry. Another time maybe.

Defeat. He knows that “another time maybe” is a polite “never.” Another swig of tequila down the hatch.

Harry: Yeah, no worries.

Alani sets her phone down on her nightstand and brings the duvet up to her chin. She hopes with every muscle in her body that Harry doesn’t show up to the restaurant, though if he’s planning on drinking, perhaps she’s safe. Maybe I should do the same. She wonders, thinking about the rosé her mom keeps in the cupboard for special occasions. Surely heartache must be a good enough reason to crack it open. Regardless, Alani doesn’t think she has the stomach to keep it down at the present.

********

Harry pushes the remaining peas around on his plate with the prongs of his fork. His chin rests in the heel of his hand.

“And then I said ‘what’s the difference?’” his manager remarks, sending the rest of the group into a fit of wild laughter.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Mitch comments through a chuckle.

The laughter slowly dies down and their eyes all wander to Harry who hasn’t budged for the past twenty-five minutes. They exchange worried glances, and Jeff begins to wonder if his initial advice for Harry to go out with Alani was a mistake.

“Hey, H,” he begins gently. “You feelin’ alright?”

Harry looks up from his plate and musters his best fake smile. “Yeah, jus’ tired,”

It was partially true; the crew had spent their entire afternoon at Honoli’i Beach practicing their surfing, though it was mostly unsuccessful for Harry—his life seemed to be a series of wipe-outs these days.

“I’m gonna go watch a Rom-Com in my room,” he announces, standing with his plate. “Probably doze off.”

The group exchanges “good nights” before Harry saunters down the hall to his room. Settling into the bed, he flicks through the movie selection and clicks on one that he knows by heart. He contemplates texting Alani again, scrolling through their brief conversation from three days ago. Against his better judgment, he types out another message and presses send.

Harry: Opinion on The Notebook?

He waits, attention briefly occupied by Rachel McAdams until the phone dings.

Alani: A classic, though not as good as Dirty Dancing if I’m being honest.

The corners of his mouth curl and he immediately types out another response.

Harry: You have a problem with The Goss?

Alani snorts, planting her spoon into the pint of strawberry ice cream to reply.

Alani: First, I have many gripes about you referring to Ryan Gosling as “The Goss”. Second, I was actually rooting for Lon Hammond, but maybe that’s just because I’m partial to James Marsden. And third, the scene where Baby and Johnny are dancing alone in his room. That’s all I have to say.

Harry hums, hanging on every word.

Harry: Confession: I’ve never actually seen Dirty Dancing…

Alani: We need to change that immediately.

His heart pounds. So she didn’t plan on ghosting him forever.

Harry: So Lon Hammond, that’s your type?

Alani doesn’t know why she finds it unsettling that Harry steers the conversation away from any possible talk of them hanging out again. She reminds herself that she had been the one to decline his invitation for margaritas and shovels another scoop of ice cream into her mouth.

Alani: Kind, supportive, successful, handsome? Yeah, I’d say so. Not to mention he forgave Allie for cheating.

Harry: But Noah built her a house. Her dream house, I might add.

Alani: I’m not discrediting Noah, I love a grand romantic gesture as much as the next person. Just think Lon deserved better.

Harry grins, entirely ignoring the movie at this point. Grand romantic gestures, he notes, good to know.

Harry: And what about the fact that Noah wrote it all down and reads their literal love story to her every time she forgets?

Alani: Maybe he deserves some rights for that.

Alani taps the spoon against her lower lip and thinks about Cecily’s words. Just let things happen. She desperately wants to, but she doesn’t know how. The thought of getting too close only to let it all slip through her fingers is too overwhelming, so she starts with something simple: do you like spending time with him? Alani doesn’t think she could enjoy anything more. Her mind wanders back to the passenger seat of Harry’s car and the image of his wrist draped over the steering wheel, lower lip captured between his fingers. She had noted this tick early on and found it endlessly endearing. Save for the awkward fifteen minutes of their very first interview, their conversations all seemed to come so easily. Alani enjoys his quick wit and the way he speaks slowly, as if carefully weighing each word. She likes that even though the entire reason for their relationship is for her to learn all that she possibly can about him, he makes an equal effort to get to know her. Alani compares Harry’s sincere reaction to hearing that she was a journalist to David’s snarky remark. Harry had believed in her from the get-go—he had trusted her. He makes her feel seen and known. Isn’t that what it means to be loved? To be known? His words echo in her mind.

Harry: How’s the article going?

Alani’s stomach drops. Fuck. In all her contemplation over the almost kiss, she had forgotten the truth behind her motives. She had lied. Harry had trusted her, and she had lied. Not yet, she thinks, I haven’t lied yet. It would only be a lie if she submits the article to Rolling Stone. Her throat tightens. But I’m so close. She thinks about telling him, but quickly shuts the thought down when she considers that she still doesn’t have enough material and can’t afford to risk it now. This is her chance, there’s no doubt about it. Why else would the universe have planted a world famous rockstar right at her feet just when she had decided to give up for good? Alani had to at least try, she owed it to herself, and she reasons that if Harry really cares about her, he will understand. He would have to.

Alani: It’s going.

Harry: Can I get a sneak peek anytime soon?

Alani: Soon. Good night, Harry.

She sends the last text and sets her phone face down next to her. If she was going to do this, she had to do it right—even if it meant putting some space between the two of them. She owed that much to Harry.

He sinks further into the mattress, not understanding what he had said or done wrong, but he grants Alani her space, anyway.

Harry: Good night Alani.

********

“You’re listening to KWPX The Wave and that was the latest single from Ariana Grande,”

Alani stops fiddling with the radio and sits back with a defeated huff. She had been in a rut with her own music lately and after spending nearly fifteen minutes in her driveway shuffling through songs, she decided to turn on the radio and leave it up to fate.

“Next up is a song from everyone’s favorite ex-boyband: One Direction,”

Goddamnit, Alani groans. She had forgotten what a bitch fate could be.

“Now, I have to say, DeeDee,” the radio DJ starts. “I was personally heartbroken to hear the news, and I know my daughters were too,”

“Oh definitely,” DeeDee replies. “And I can’t help but wonder what this means for all of them. I mean, what do you think they’re up to these days?”

The first DJ gives a snide chuckle before he continues. “Probably doing what every twenty-something year old millionaire does: booze, cruise, and schmooze—the pretty girls, especially,”

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes at his insinuation. She had begun to resent all of the gossip and speculation surrounding Harry’s whereabouts, especially after learning how much privacy meant to him. Moreover, she hated the twinge of jealousy that coursed through her veins at the thought of him with another girl. Alani supposes that it wasn’t entirely out of the question since they were far from romantically involved. While he had occupied her mind over the past few weeks, she knew that it was highly unlikely that he paid her the same attention. The thought still brings bile to her mouth.

“Well whatever they’re up to, one thing seems to be pretty clear,” DeeDee speaks up again. “All eyes will be on Harry Styles. I mean, he’s really the one to watch in all of this, isn’t he?”

“I think you’re right. I’m curious to see what he’s got in store. Maybe he’ll join Justin Timberlake and Nick Jonas with the ex-boyband buzz cut. But without further ado, here’s Drag Me Down.”

Alani knows that she’ll have to talk to Harry eventually; over the past week and a half, she had dodged every invitation to hang out, left cut and dry responses to all of his texts, and even ducked into the restaurant’s walk-in fridge when he unexpectedly showed up one afternoon. While the temptation to indulge his friendly advances was high, professional boundaries needed to be established. She had already begun working on the article with material from the two previous interviews—and it wasn’t half bad—but there was still so much of the story to fill in. If Alani was going to make it all worthwhile, she had to keep digging and do it fast; she couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings get in the way.

Her car sputters slightly as she heads south on Mamalahoa Highway and the radio fades in and out. Alani checks all of her gauges—she had made sure that the gas tank was full before leaving—and doesn’t see anything unusual. A few miles later, it jerks again before coming to a complete stop.

“Fuck,” she cries, pounding her palms against the steering wheel. “No, no, no, no, no!”

Alani waits a moment before turning the key again, but the engine refuses to start. She whips her phone out of the cupholder and scrolls through her contact list.

Pua—no license.

Maleah—out of town.

Dad—also out of town, catering a wedding in Oahu.

Mom—probably scrubbed in on a major, life-saving surgery.

She continues scrolling until her finger lands on a name that makes her heart race and sink at the same time.

Harry Styles—no.

There’s no way she can justify calling him, not after giving him the cold shoulder all week. If texting back and forth was unprofessional, then asking to be rescued off the side of the road surely crossed several boundaries. Alani scans her surroundings, shielding her eyes from the blinding afternoon sun. There isn’t a car or person in sight for miles—what other choice does she have? With shaking fingers, she dials the number and presses the phone to her ear. Harry answers after the third ring.

“Hello?” he responds loudly over the sound of cymbals crashing and laughter in the background.

“Hi,” Alani greets, raising her voice to be heard. “It’s Alani,”

She hears shuffling on the other end and then Harry’s voice, softer this time.

“Oh hey. How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

Harry senses that something is off, but he’s glad to hear from Alani, nevertheless. His friends continue their antics in the studio, despite his silent gestures to knock it off, so he heads outside.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine. S’good to hear from you,” he offers shyly.

Alani’s chest tightens.

“Ditto,” she replies. “Hey listen, um, I’m kind of in a bit of trouble I—”

She hesitates. What the hell am I doing?

“I need your help,”

Harry’s heart sinks, immediately filled with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reassures him. “It’s my car,”

“Where are you?”

“The highway, southbound. Just past exit 243, I think,”

“I’m on my way,”

“Thank you,” Alani offers gently. “Really, thank you.”

A soft smile spreads across Harry’s lips. “Anytime.”

He arrives in a pink Cadillac fifteen minutes later, pulling over behind Alani. She doesn’t recognize the car and her confusion only deepens when a man with short-cropped hair emerges. As he approaches, a wave of recognition and relief washes over her.

“Harry?”

“Hey,” he greets, walking up to the driver’s side. “Need a lift?”

Alani’s mouth hangs open ever so slightly, scanning his new appearance. He looks like a completely different person than the one she remembers, and he has the faintest trace of stubble above his lip and jaw.

“You cut your hair,”

“I did,” he confirms.

“It’s so short,”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Alani offers with a light laugh, feeling flustered under his gaze. “I mean it looks great, really suits you. Not that it matters what I think, it’s your hair,”

But it did matter. Everything she did, or didn’t do, said, and didn’t say— it all mattered to him for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. And it mattered more than she would ever know.

“So Stevie quit on you?”

Alani sighs. “I don’t know what’s wrong, honestly. All of the gauges look fine and I filled the tank this morning,”

Harry asks her to pop the hood and makes his way to the front of the Bronco. He looks around, not seeing any smoke or trace of other issues, though his knowledge of cars isn’t as comprehensive as he’d like in this situation.

Alani joins him, doing her own scan over the inside of the hood despite the fact that she has no idea what to look for. Her eyes wander to Harry’s strong hands as they prod the various bells and whistles, and she notices the way his tanned skin glistens under the sun. The cross pendant nestled behind his white t-shirt escapes when he leans over, swinging like a mesmerizing pendulum.

“I called a tow truck,” he says standing with his hands on his hips. “Should be here soon,”

“I’ll pay you back,” Alani offers quickly, her throat dry.

Harry waves her concern away with a hand and places the hood back. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay,”

“I really owe you one,” she says appreciatively.

He leans against the car with his arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Have lunch with me and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.”

The tow truck arrives ten minutes later and the driver gathers all of Alani’s information, letting her know which mechanic the car will be taken to and when she can pick it up. She sighs watching Stevie pull away down the road and imagines the dent it’ll make in her savings. Harry nudges her gently, motioning for her to get in his car.

“New ride?” she questions, running her fingers over the cotton candy paint.

“It belongs to the owner of the studio,” he explains. “All of the cars do except the Rover, she’s a rental. But Jeff took her out to get us lunch,”

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your plans,” Alani apologizes. And for kind of ghosting you, she thinks.

Harry shakes his head, shifting the gear between them. “Nah, you didn’t interrupt, we were just messing around. But I am curious to know what brought you all the way out here on a Tuesday afternoon. Skipping town?”

Alani giggles at the way he says “Tuesday,” but responds despite the curious look he flashes her. “Day off. I was gonna go to the beach,”

“Bummer,” Harry offers, thanking every deity that he can name. “We could still go,”

“Your friends won’t be mad?”

“They’ll be fine,”

Alani nods, her eyes studying the orange checkers on her trousers.

“What’re you hungry for?” Harry speaks up.

She thinks for a moment and is reminded of her original plans. “I could go for some sushi,”

“Know any good places?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Alani’s curious gaze falls to the glove box before her, immediately wondering what’s inside. “Do you think the owner will be mad if I open this?”

Harry glances down at what she’s pointing to and shakes his head. “Knock yourself out,”

Alani pulls down the hatch and reaches inside; her fingers make contact with what feels like a pair of glasses. When her hand re-emerges with a pair that are pink and heart-shaped, she smiles.

“They have good taste,” she comments, putting them on.

Harry looks over and flashes a wide grin, the dimple that Alani has become so fond of emerging.

“Look good on you,”

“Try them on,” Alani suggests, handing them over.

He obliges and pushes his own pair up to make room for the other lenses.

“What d’you think?”

“I think you should keep them,” she says. “They suit you.”

And they really do; they compliment his face well and hint to the fun, easygoing parts of his personality that Alani has recently discovered.

She directs him to her favorite sushi spot near Bayfront Park, which is buzzing per usual. After they’ve been seated on the patio outside, Harry tucks the heart-shaped sunglasses into his t-shirt and contemplates addressing the elephant in the room: the ghosting. He doesn’t want to spook her, though, so he decides to pose the question lightly, but Alani speaks before he has the chance.

“So what’s with the haircut?”

Harry blinks, clearing his throat before he responds. “You hate it,”

“No!” She defends. “I like it, really, it looks great,”

“You wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t absolutely hate it,” he teases in mock offense.

Alani rolls her eyes, a playful smile spreading across her face. “It just seems like a huge step and I’m curious, that’s all,”

He considers this, deciding to stop giving her a hard time, and responds. “Well if you must know, it’s for an audition,”

“For?”

“A movie,”

“A movie?” Alani’s eyes grow wide. “You’re gonna be in a movie?”

“Maybe,” he clarifies. “Dunno yet,”

“Wow,”

Harry leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What have you been up to? Any life changing decisions?”

Alani shrugs. “Same old. Work, my summer class,”

“And how’s your family?” he asks, which catches her off guard.

“Good. My sister’s… a moody teenager. My dad is catering a big wedding in Oahu right now. Mom’s saving lives like the badass woman she is,”

Harry laughs lightly at her comment and Alani tries to store the soundbite in the back of her mind for safe keeping.

“What about yours?” she questions.

“Fine, yeah. Mum’s good, so’s Gemma. Talk to them at least once a week just to check in,”

He pauses to take a sip of his water before continuing. “Ever since I was about...ten, maybe, ‘ve had this feeling like—protect mum at all costs. But she’s strong, has the greatest heart,”

Alani finds it sweet that Harry speaks so highly of Anne. Her own mom had always told her that a lot can be said about the character of a man by the way he treats his mother.

“I’m sure she misses having you around,” Alani comments, thinking of her own close relationship with her mom. “I don’t know if I could let my child leave home as early as you did,”

Harry brushes the tip of his nose with a knuckle and nods. “Was kinda hard at first, but she’s always been really supportive.”

“I bet she’s really proud.”

He offers a shy smile in response, scanning the scenery around them.

“I’m sure your family’s proud of you too.”

Alani and Harry continue their light conversation through the entire meal, sharing stories about their families and childhood. She finds herself wishing that she could have met a teenaged Harry, pre-fame and general world domination. He enjoys her anecdotes, soaking up every detail that he possibly can as if his life depends on it. The two of them go back and forth well after the meal is finished, only pausing when the waitress stops to check on them.

“Maybe we should go,” Alani suggests, checking her phone for the time. “I always hate when customers stay for hours,”

“Just like I did the first time at the café?” he asks, putting his signature on the bill.

Alani feels her cheeks warm and she quickly back pedals. “No! I mean—well, yeah, kinda—”

“And the truth comes out!”

“I was just annoyed because my sister kept bugging me to fill up your water. She was afraid you were gonna, like, get dehydrated and die or something.”

“Tell her I appreciate the concern.”

Alani laughs lightly, feeling a bit of relief when the breeze soothes her burning cheeks. The two of them make their way back into the restaurant and out the main entrance, padding down the boardwalk side by side. Harry never knows what to do with his hands, usually opting to stuff them into his pockets as he hurries down a busy street, but he desperately wishes to occupy them a different way. His pinky involuntarily brushes the back of Alani’s hand, but he pulls away quickly to avoid freaking her out. She wishes he hadn’t.

“What were you gonna do at the beach?” he asks to break the ice.

She thinks for a moment, watching the different couples huddled together on the beach. “Relax, get some air. Do a little reading,”

“What’re you reading?”

“Currently this book about Laurel Canyon in California and some of the musicians who lived there during the 60s. You might like it,”

Harry’s brow raises. “Think so?”

“Yeah, it’s got Joni, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, Mamas and the Papas, all those guys. They talk about their experiences of coming to terms with rapidly growing fame, the reality of the peace and love movement, the collaborative process. Seems like something you might find interesting—relatable, even,”

"I’ll check it out,” Harry promises with a nod.

Alani smiles gently and refocuses her attention on the horizon. “So what were you gonna do today?”

“Not much,” Think about you. “But speaking of books and stuff, I‘ve been meaning to ask. When you become, you know, the next Pulitzer Prize winner, do I get to be your plus one?”

She scoffs, squinting under the bright sun to look up at him. “I don’t know, I have to make it first,”

“And what does ‘making it’ mean to you?” Harry had been trying to re-define success, himself, and was curious to hear Alani’s thoughts on the subject.

She ponders the question for a minute, adjusting the straps of her orange tank-top to occupy her anxious fingers. “Move to New York, work for some big publication, something like that,”

“New York?” he asks, slightly taken aback. “And leave all this behind?”

“I think I’d like the change,” Alani reasons. “I love it here more than anything, but I think I’ve gotta make my own way, my own decisions. My grandma used to say that you ‘gotta swim before you drown because the ocean’s too vast and too interesting to get stuck treading water in the same place,’”

Harry nods, understandingly. “Wise woman,”

“Carolina,” Alani says, using the Spanish pronunciation that sounds like music to Harry’s ears. “That was her name, I was named after her,”

“Middle name?”

“Yeah,” she clarifies. “I’m half Mexican on my mom’s side,”

He hums. “Ever been?”

“To Mexico?” Alani asks, proceeding when he nods. “Yeah. Once when I was like, five, we went to Xcaret for my aunt’s wedding,”

“It’s beautiful there,” Harry notes.

“What’s your favorite place that you’ve been to?” Alani questions, imagining all the stamps that must be in Harry’s passport.

He thinks for a moment, a hum buzzing low in his throat as he sifts through his memory. “Probably Italy,”

“Lucky,” Alani muses, picturing the Gothic cathedrals that she longs to visit.

“You’d like it there.” Harry says, truly believing it. A part of him felt that she belonged in every beautiful place he could think of.

The two of them walk in silence for a few moments, each taking time to scope out the view around them. Alani sees a couple leaned against a staircase railing, looking deep in conversation, though probably not a pleasant one.

“You think they’re breaking up?” Alani asks gently, nodding her head in their direction. “Or just having the talk?”

Harry scans the scenery before his eyes land on the pair that she's referring to. “Ah yes, the talk. Ye olde chat,”

“What do you think you’d be if you weren’t a musician?” She poses suddenly. He laughs to himself at the way Alani jumps from topic to topic and reasons that her mind must always be going a mile a minute.

“A virgin,” Harry jokes, hoping that it’ll land. When she lets out a sudden, bright laugh, he looks over in relief.

“God, you are so…” Alani trails off, shaking her head.

He waits to see if she’ll finish the statement, but he doesn’t think she will. Truthfully, she doesn’t know what to say. The more Alani learns about Harry, the more he seems to surprise her. One minute he can be serious and thoughtful. The next, a ray of sunshine—aloof and carefree. She finds herself anticipating his every move, every word, and loving each minute that he allows her to. It makes her head spin at times, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

They journey down to the shore and discard their shoes in favor of feeling the cool sand beneath their toes. Alani tells Harry about the sea glass collection she had as a child, and he makes a mental note to scan the ground for any pieces she might like. She asks him if the beaches are nice in England, to which he responds a hard “no” compared to the ones in Hawaii or California. A couple of children splash in the shallow water nearby, and Alani doesn’t miss the fond look in Harry’s eye as he watches. Eventually, they wander back up to the main boardwalk when they spot a group of people happily sipping milkshakes. Harry noticed her eyes following them, practically drooling, so he suggested it before she had to.

“Want some?” Alani asks, her mouth full of strawberry.

Harry gladly accepts, taking a sip from the straw that she holds out to him. He hums, letting the taste sit on his tongue before he offers his own cup full of vanilla. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning over for a taste. The flavor is sweet and comforting to her, despite popular opinion that it’s boring. Alani swipes her tongue across her lower lip and thinks for a moment that this is what his mouth must taste like. She wishes she could verify this thought.

“I’m really glad you got the strawberry,” he notes, stirring his drink with the straw. “I was having a serious crisis over what to get,”

“When in doubt, always go with the pink one,” Alani says, tapping her temple, and suddenly Harry remembers that the contents of her bag were all various shades of bubble gum and dusty rose.

“It’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” he offers, taking another sip of his milkshake.

“Paul Simonon?” she questions with narrowed eyes, instantly recognizing his reference to a quote from The Clash’s bassist.

“Nothing gets past you.”

********

The clouds above start to resemble puffs of cotton candy, signaling that the day will soon draw to a close much to both Harry and Alani’s dismay. They lounge in the pink Cadillac, which is parked in an area that overlooks the entire beach, and take turns picking out the one lie amongst two truths about one another; it was a game that Harry had proposed.

“Is it,” Alani starts, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “The four nipples?”

Harry makes a buzzer sound effect through his own laughter, temple resting against his fist as his arm drapes over the seat.

“Wrong-o, sorry,”

“What?!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “You’re messing with me,”

“Am not,” he defends proudly.

Alani lets out a surprised chuckle, fighting the urge to let her eyes wander below his neck. “I don’t believe you,”

“I’d prove it,” he shrugs. “But then I’d have to flash you,”

“Guess we’ll never know, then,”

Their laughter settles down and the only sound between them is the crashing of waves in the distance. Harry lets his eyes trail down the slope of Alani’s nose to her cupid’s bow—dangerous territory. Little does he know, Alani does the same, noting the fact that his lips are heart-shaped and the perfect shade of strawberry. How sickeningly charming, she thinks. Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and there’s something hidden behind the sea-glass that she can’t quite read. The air becomes charged and the two of them are like magnets, drawn inexplicably towards one another. Alani inches closer, her heart pounding so violently in her chest, she’s afraid that he can hear it. The sound of his own blood rushing in his ears prevents this, however, as he leans in too. The space between them gets smaller, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, when the high pitched ringing of Alani’s phone sends her jolting backward. Harry curses every deity that he can name.

“Hello?” she responds, turning her back to him. She listens for a minute, a soft “mhmm” escaping every few seconds. “Okay, yes, I’ll be there. Thank you,”

Alani dreads having to turn back to Harry and face the consequences of whatever lines were almost crossed. She chooses to simply ignore it all together, as if no time had passed between his shocking personal revelation and the ringing of her phone.

“Stevie’s ready.” she says weakly.

Harry swallows down his frustration and offers a polite smile. “Let’s go get her.”

The mechanic shop is twenty minutes from the beach; Harry and Alani spend the entire ride in silence. Neither of them address the almost kiss despite the fact that it hangs over their heads like a raincloud of uncertain emotion. She occupies her gaze with the scenery whizzing past while he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Alani mourns the fact that their little bubble had been popped so soon, but she figures that it’s for the best. Don’t get attached, she reminds herself. Easier said than done. Harry also wallows in the aftermath of the interruption, wishing he had acted sooner. When they finally arrive at the shop, the mechanic reveals that the cause of her car troubles was a simple dead battery. Harry offers to foot the bill, but Alani refuses, deciding that she shouldn’t accept any more favors from him in order to restore the boundary.

“So I guess this is where we part ways,” Alani says gently, toying with her keys.

Harry scans his brain for something—anything—a single excuse to see her again, and soon. He doesn’t think he can take another week and a half of icy silence and he has a suspicion that she can’t either. After all, she had leaned in, too—hadn’t she?

“There’s this thing,” he blurts out. “A sort of jam sesh at the studio tomorrow night. There’s gonna be booze, otherwise I’d tell you to bring your sister. But I’d love for you to come, and I think it might be good for—the article, or something,”

Alani weighs the pros and cons in her mind, one of which he had already mentioned: a chance to listen to what he’s working on. It seemed professional and innocent enough, not to mention the fact that there’d be other people around to keep them in check. Once she decides it’s safe, she nods.

“Okay, sure,”

“I can pick you up,” Harry offers.

Alani shakes her head gently and offers a shy smile. “No, that's okay. Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there.”

They exchange good-byes and Alani thanks him for coming to her rescue, to which he offers a modest shrug. Harry speeds down the highway and back to the house, but three words linger in the silence.

I’ll be there.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #solo harry #one direction #harry fic #ybmh #sooo :))) how we feelin now

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twinkleallnight · 4 years ago

Text

Marshmallow

Words of silence

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairing: Drake x Hana

Word count: 1255

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Catch up here

I reach Shanghai early in the evening. Looking at my watch I make a quick calculation of what Liam must be doing. My cell phone rings and I flip it open to see an incoming call from Liam. I answer the call with a smile.

“Hey bro!”

“Landed safely?” Liam asked.

“Yes, all safe and smooth till now.”

“Listen, there will be a driver waiting for you at arrivals. He will take you to Cordonian embassy straightaway. Mr Lee has been informed and a meeting with him is arranged at his estate in three hours.” He feeds me with all the info.

Riley’s giggling voice adds in, “You have enough time to spruce up.”

I see a man holding a placard with my name. I signal at him. As I get into the vehicle, Liam continues briefing me. “Remember, you are a diplomat from the royal council's department of communications.”

Olivia speaks in between, “And please act like one.”

“What are all of you doing together?”

Leo’s baritone sound is next. “Round table conference for you.”

“Prepping up the commoner.” Livy snorts. But I argue.

“Why can’t I just be who I am?”

“And make a fool of king of Cordonia? Who sends a vet as a spokesperson?” Livy speaks in an irritated tone.

“Fine. I will follow.”

Max tries to give more details. “Once you are done with all the heavy work, go to The Bund. I have booked a table for you at the Fairmount Peace Hotel”

“What am I supposed to do there?”

“Unwind with the world’s oldest jazz band, my dear friend.”

There is a complete silence and I can imagine all of them glaring at Max. I know I guessed it right, when he starts explaining.

“What? Don’t you all look at me like that. After having the heavy talk with the girl’s father, the poor guy needs some breathing space.”

“I am not having the talk, Max. Not just yet.” I clarify.

“You got this Drakey!” Leo resonates.

“I will call you later guys. Thank you.” And I disconnect the call.

I look through the window at the passing city streets. It looks more crowded than Cordonia. I roll the glass down to take a whiff. This is where Hana belongs to. I try to imbibe the smell, the sounds, the vibes in an effort to find a piece of her somewhere. Where are you, Hana? By the time I reach embassy, I am drenched in sweat. Damn! This place is humid.

I refresh and gear up to meet Mr Xinghai Lee. The same car takes me to the Lee estates. I try to strike a conversation with the driver, who speaks in broken English. He is all praises about Mr Lee.

My anxiety is increasing with every passing moment. We reach our destination after about half an hour drive. I feel my pulse rising when I am ushered in an office. The walls are light and intricate wooden work is tastefully placed around the room giving it a warmth. The Rosewood desk in the centre, has few chairs set across. I am directed to the couch, eccentrically placed on the right side of the desk.

Soon, a man in his sixties, with a medium built up and a smiling Asian face walks in. His clothes and accessories throw an impression of his status. He gives me a tight lipped smile.

I get up to greet him. “Good evening Mr Lee.” I speak in a bland tone.

“Nî hâo!” he says. And I keep giving him blank stare.

Maybe he realises I didn’t understand a word of what he said. He repeats in English, “I meant Hello, you good? Usually, your people greet us our way.”

I wince at my foolishness. I should have done my homework well. I falter a bit “Oh that, yes. I am good. Yes. I am sorry. I am new to the stately affairs.

“Ah, the new king and his new council. I understand. I congratulate you all.”

“Thank you. This is a message from our King Liam. He has sent his good wishes to you and says thank you for showing your support towards our kingdom.” I hand him the manila envelope I was carrying with me.

“Thank you. Please take a seat.” I sit across his desk as he rips open the envelope and reads through the documents. His serious expressions change into delighted ones.

“Oh, my daughter into the cordonian council?”

“Yes sir, the king speaks highly about lady Hana and wants her to join his council.

“We need to think over this. I need to discuss with my wife.” He beams at me clearly showing that he is happy about the offer.

“Sir, I can wait for your answer. My return has been a scheduled after two days. I will be staying at the Cordonian embassy.”

“No, no. You don’t need to stay there. Please be our guest. Give us a chance to show the cordonians the beauty of East.” I nod and accept the offer immediately.

“May I have an audience with lady Hana. I would like to extend my greetings to her in person.” I ask him.

“Sure. My assistant will guide you. Enjoy your stay at Shangai.” We both get up and greet each other.

I walk out following the short man assigned to me. A conquering smile plays on my lips.

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

The short guy takes me around to the east wing of the estate and has some conversation in Chinese with a lady. He then turns around and informs me. “Lady Hana is out for some work and will be returning after an hour. I have left a message with her help. We will update you once she is back and ready to see you.”

“No problem.” I follow the short man to the guest room Mr Lee had offered to me in the southern wing. Once inside my room, I quickly tie up with embassy to send my bags. I pace through the room for sometime but my curiosity wins over and I move out of the guest rooms, back to the east wing, discreetly. I hear someone approaching and sneak into the room I had visited few minutes ago.

I have done this many times with Liam, the sneaking and peeking through the chambers of the palace but doing it here in unknown territory makes me nervous. As I wait into the darkness, the door creaks open. I brace myself against the wall behind the door.

The door closes and a silhouette reclines her back on the door. I am holding my breath while peering through the darkness. I thank my stars. It is Hana, I can recognise her anywhere. In one swift moment, as she switches on the light, I leap in front of her, covering her mouth to muffle her scream.

Her eyes shift from the scared expressions to that of surprise. I engulf her into a longing embrace, till I have inhaled her fragrance enough, till I have felt her touch enough. After some time I realise it is not enough, it never will be. So, I peel myself from her, only to find the honey colour of her eyes melting into tears that are staining her supple cheeks.

I cup her face, “How much I have missed you!” I place a kiss on her forehead but all I see is the storm in her eyes and all I get on her lips is silence.

Tags: @annekebbphotography @alj4890 @anjanettexcordonia @bascmve01 @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @drakewalker04 @eadanga @gkittylove99 @krsnlove @hopefulmoonobject @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @indiacater @jessiembruno @kingliam2019 @lisha1valecha @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @ntoraplayschoices @princess-geek @princessleac1 @secretaryunpaid @sirbeepsalot @speedyoperarascalparty @queenrileyrose @texaskitten30 @txemrn @sfb123 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09 @efecom @grsarco-blog @lovelyladyk88

#pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #trr fandom #trr #twinkleallnight #drake walker #hana lee

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writefightandflightclub · 5 years ago

Text

Poke it (Poe Dameron x reader)

What is this? #9 of 14 prompt requests for my now semi-distant 500 follower celebration (sorry that they’re taking me an age to complete)!

Prompt / summary: “Let’s poke it with a stick” + “Do NOT poke it!” + “Let’s be honest. This isn’t the worst thing you’ve caught me doing”

(That 3rd line! I adore Pepperony and I wish I had a comprehensive list of the worst things Pepper caught Tony doing!)

Author’s note: This is just a quick one- hope it hangs together ok. The title is shitty, I’m sorry.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: mild sex references and content; references to nudity.

GIF credit: the fabulous @hupperts !

You stir awake in the interior of the cave as a precise whisper cuts through the relative darkness.

“Let’s poke it with a stick!”

Blearly eyed and still half-asleep, you try to shrug off the layers of sleep. All you can establish, at first, is that you’re surrounded by warmth. By blankets. By warm skin. Then a familiar scent wraps around you, explaining the embrace you’re held in. Poe. You’re surrounded by Poe, snoring lightly beside you.

Then, a second harsh whisper slices through the cave, and you register a flashlight beam trailing over the interior, unsure footsteps scraping along the floor.

“I’m gonna poke it.”

“Do NOT poke it, Rose! It’s probably just a rock.”

“You don’t believe that, Finn, or you wouldn’t mind me poking it. Besides, it was moving around! I heard it growl!”

Evidently, your rescue committe has arrived. “Hello?” you venture into the dimly lit cave. At that, Finn and Rose startle, seemingly colliding with one another and letting out a sharp shriek.They’re not very subtle.

Poe finally shifts awake beneath the blankets, at which point, upon observing the stirring, blanketed shape, Rose yells “AHHH! Kill it! Kill it! For kriff’s sake kill it!!”

“Don’t kill it! Rose! It’s us! It’s just us!” You exclaim, and a flashlight beam finds its way directly into your face. Groggily, you raise an arm to shield your eyes. You offer them a lopsided smile. “Major (L/N), accounted for and present.” Wait, is Finn hiding behind Rose?

Upon realising the mysterious shape is you and not some carniverous, cave-dwelling monster, Finn strides forward and you can just about make out relief washing over his features. “Poe?” he enquires, needing to know immediately that the Commander is also accounted for.

“I’m here, buddy.”, a gravelly, sleep ridden voice announces from behind you. Slinging a hand over your hips and giving you a reassuring and private squeeze beneath the blankets, Poe props himself up on his elbow and squints into the light as the beam now washes over his stubbled face and mussed, inky curls.

“Thank kriff.” Rose starts, finally reassured and continuing the onslaught with the flashlight as she too paces towards you.

“Rose.” you warn. “Rose.”

She doesn’t heed you and, full of relief that the moving, growling shape was simply the two of you sleeping, she makes her way even closer. “What on earth happened to you two after the crash? We...” But then she comes closer than she would like. “Oh, Maker, my eyes!” she yells, the flashlight beam skimming over the underwear and clothing you have both strewn over the floor. Skimming over Poe’s shirtless form snuggled into yours.

Poe dips his head towards you while Rose swings her flashlight wildly around, providing a momentary distraction. “Oops.” he breathes, with zero genuine regret, before planting a quick kiss to the sweet spot on your neck that he learned all about lastnight. Your body hums with delight.

Finn’s beam follows the path of Rose’s next. “Maker! Are you two naked?!” Did you have...? No. Wait. I don’t even need to ask, do I? You had sex in a cave. You did. I know it.”

“Finn!” you scold, although he’s not wrong, and you tug the blanket firmly up to your armpits to avoid any unintended slips, as if you might be able to salvage some dignity after all.

“We didn’t think anyone was coming for us, buddy. We may have got in touch with our feelings, some.” Poe defends, his voice momentarily hollowed out with the memory of exactly how stranded you’d believed you were. About the declarations which followed. “Besides, Let’s be honest, Finn. This isn’t the worst thing you’ve caught me doing. Not by far!”

Finn sighs. “Whatever, just get dressed and meet us over by the entrance. You got your own light?”

“We got our own light.” Poe confirms.

“And (Y/N)?” Rose calls gleefully as she and Finn head out, “Hurry up, so you can tell me absolutely everything there is to know about this hook-up.”

“Rose!” Poe scolds, in a thin attempt at his Commander-ly voice.

The duo leave and Poe shields your eyes with his palm as he powers up the portable light. You swivel beneath the blanket to face him with a tentative smile, the memory of last night still fresh on your skin, on your lips, on your heart.

“Looks like we’re not going to die after all, honey.” He trails his fingertips lazily over your bare back. If you’re not mistaken, he takes a deep, steadying breath before speaking his next words. “Before we’re very unalone: any regrets about last night....?”

Your response is easy, certain. “I regret nothing.”

He can’t hold back the smile upon hearing your words, but he does make some attempt to tame it with a lip bite. He dips to press a soft, affectionate kiss to your lips and looks at you like he can’t believe his luck.

“How about you?” you ask apprehensively. “Any regrets?”

“I only regret that I didn’t have sex with you in a cave a helluva lot sooner.”

“Figures.” you nod, delivering him a warm smile and returning his kiss, momentarily letting it deepen.

“Come on then, Screamer, let’s get dressed and back to base so I can undress you again. Sound good?”

Oh oh. You hope that nickname doesn’t stick. You’d be more embarrassed, but he’d certainly seemed to enjoy how vocal you were last night.

“Yep. That’s emphatically fine by me.” You pick through the mess to find your clothes, tugging them on hurriedly and packing up the few supplies you had remaining. Once everything is gathered and you’re both decent you begin your trudge through the winding tunnels.

“Wait a minute, though...” you pause as you pick your way out through the dark and towards the cave’s mouth. Poe’s hand is on your waist. In fact, he’s barely stopped touching you since he finally realised that you wanted him to touch you. “I gotta ask. What was the worst thing Finn’s caught you doing?”

Poe stops in his tracks for a moment, his hand still warm and reassuring on the small of your back. “I forget... D’sn’t matter though, you’re by far the best thing he’s caught me doing. Let’s dwell on that. ‘Kay?”

“Technically, he didn’t catch you doing me.” you clarify, for the record.

“A few minutes later and he would have.” Poe smirks, and his face remains mischievous as you enter the light of day.

Rose is waiting keenly for you to emerge and greets you both with open-armed hugs and easy smiles. You both hold your arms out to Finn, expecting the same. “Nah, bro, I’ll get you later. I know where you two have been.”

You walk together towards the ship, and you allow yourself a sigh of relief. It had been touch and go there for a while. Then, before Rose can siphon you off for much needed gossip, you turn to Poe. “You’re the best thing I’ve been caught doing too, you know.”

His expression turns smug. “I could tell, sweetheart.”

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

He ignores your comment and continues with his self-satisfied train of thought. “Which is wild, because I haven’t even shown you mosta my moves yet.”

You filter on to the rescue vessel, greeting the pilot with gratitude and taking a seat with Poe, Rose, and Finn further down in the cabin.

If you’re honest, as relieved as you are to see your friends, you’re a little distracted wondering what other “moves” Poe might have to offer. Apparently, your lusty looks aren’t lost on your fellow Rebels, either. “Oh, for Maker’s sake, you two.” Rose starts. “Go. Get out of my sight. I’ll cover for you.” You and Poe exchange a glance, and Poe offers you a suggestive eyebrow, the gesture forming a perfectly phrased, unspoken question. He grabs your hand eagerly as your eyes shine in response.

“Thanks, Rose.” he calls, practically yanking your arm out of its socket with enthusiasm and he leads you towards an adjacent door.

“Just don’t touch anything!” she emphasises.

“And don’t let me catch you.” Finn promptly adds a condition. “And never tell me what happened in there.”

You throw a sidelong, helpless look back at Rose as Poe marches you away. “Tell me everything.” She mouths at you before you’re carried off. You give her a wink and turn towards Poe who leads you surreptitiously through another door and into an unused cargo store. His face splits into a grin. “And try not to scream.” He adds as he hikes you up on to the table.

“Oh, Maker. What have I let myself in for with you?” you chide fondly. However, as soon as you feel his touch on you, simultaneously loving and sinful, you recall; you regret nothing. Plus, this man’s not wrong. He has moves. Maker, the way his fingers are-

-Poe’s palm clamps over your mouth just before a loud moan spills from you. “Do you think you can keep quiet for me, honey?”

Nope. No regrets. You couldn’t unearth a single one if you tried. In fact, this might just be the best thing to have happened in a long while.

THE END

Like this? Please consider reblogging, and/or sending feedback in an ask or comment. I LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU AND STORIES ARE NOTHING WITHOUT A READER. YOU ARE EVERYTHING AND ILY.

Want more? You can check out my Masterlist to read more of my works! FYI: It’s always kept updated in my bio.

Want even more? Just ask if you’re not already and you’d like to be added to my permanent tag-list or any series tag-lists <3

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron drabble #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #tros #star wars x reader #sw #poe x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron request #star wars fic #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x male reader #poe dameron x gender neutral reader

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evesbeve · 4 years ago

Note

Hey there, you said your ask box was open for Justin Min's whole thing? I guess I just slept through the whole thing, honestly - could you just go over a gist of everything that happened? I get that it seems like a PR team didn't know how to use twitter (which, mood) and f-ed things up for him, but what were they "cleaning up" in the first place, who's Anna what did they do that warranted such a bizarre thread from the PR team, etc...? 😳

Hey! Okay so this is going to be a lot, so buckle up.

Right off the bat, I just want to say that Justin isn’t cancelled. The situation has been mostly resolved right now (more on that later).

So around a week ago, Justin Min started deleting his replies to fans. Depending on whether you’re on Twitter or not, you might know that Justin is one of the most interactive people of the cast. He knows a lot of fans by name, he has inside jokes with us, and he just interacts a lot with his fanbase. So you can imagine why him suddenly starting to delete his replies was a bit upsetting. There was nothing we could do about it though.

And suddenly, two days ago, Justin deactivated his account out of nowhere, which caused all kinds of drama to go down.

People started pointing the finger at specific accounts saying it was their fault that Justin deactivated (don’t even get me started on that logic; why a grown-ass adult deactivate because of a few teenagers is above me, it literally made no sense), even sending death threats. Others suspected that he got suspended because Twitter’s algorithm saw all these tweets get deleted and was like “welp, bot time.” Long story short, lots of misinformation was going around.

And then out of the blue, Justin’s account was reactivated, and he made a thread directed at Anna.

Now, who is Anna? Anna is a stan on twitter, whose @ I won’t be sharing for privacy, but here’s how they’re relevant in this:

Remember when I mentioned the inside jokes? Well, one of them was between a fan called Matt and Justin. Matt kept commenting on Justin’s tweets asking him to say trans rights. On the one year anniversary of Matt asking Justin to say trans rights, Justin finally said it. Then, Matt made a poll asking other stans what he should have Justin say next, and lesbian rights won.

Around a month ago, Matt replied to one of Justin’s tweets, and Justin responded with something along the lines of “haha, i know this is just an attempt to get me to say lesbian rights,” referencing the inside joke. People started commenting that the way he phrased it was a bit :/ so then he replied to his own tweet with something like “well, i’ll delete this before i get cancelled,” and that’s when things spiraled.

[id: Justin Min’s tweet #1: i see that you are trying to butter me up to say lesbian rights, nice try, matt. nice try.

Justin Min’s tweet #2: oh, here we go. this is an inside joke between myself and matt, if you’ve been a part o fthis fandom for more than a few weeks. but alas, i will have to delete this now before i’m cancelled by the end of the day. keep loving, everyone.]

Lesbians get spoken over and looked down upon not only by straight people, but also the LGBT community. So when Justin tweeted that, lesbians were like “this sounds as if you care more about your own self image rather than our community.” Then, non-lesbians got involved and started either a) calling Justin lesbophobic (which lesbians never did) or b) blindly defending Justin and saying he did nothing wrong.

(Side note: I am not a lesbian, and I’m not trying to speak over lesbians in this situation. But I did talk about this to some of my friends who are lesbians, and they told me that what Justin did wasn’t as big of a deal as Twitter made it out to be. These are their words, not mine. All I know is that it was definitely not bad-intentioned, just a huge misunderstanding.)

Anyway, Anna made a thread explaining to Justin why him defending himself came out as harmful towards the lesbian community, and then Justin apologised and that was it.

Which brings us back to yesterday (26/9/2020).

Everyone is freaking out, posting misinformation, panicking. I don’t exactly,,, know how, but the #justinminisoverparty hashtag started being used for actual hate towards Justin for deactivating, and some people (including Anna, though I think their tweet was in the context of a joke? please take this with a grain of salt though. update: it was in the context of a joke) mentioned that Justin is a lesbophobe.

A few hours later, Justin reactivated his account, tagged Anna, and said this (though it was actually his PR team, more on that later):

[id: Justin’s Tweet: @ [redacted] quickly jumping back on here from my twt break because i’m receiving messages that you’re continuing to spread misinformation, so i want to clarify.]

[id: Justin’s Tweets: 1. all of my interactions with you were deleted because of the need to set clear boundaries due to the fact that your incessant messages and replies from multiple accounts over the last several months were veering into stalking/harassment.

2. for someone who appears to pride themselves on reminding their friends/followers on a daily basis to be careful of the language they use on this app, you seem to be fine with flippantly labeling someone as homophobic/lesbophobic as if they’re cute little adjectives to give to someone, not realizing that such labels have real-life consequences.]

[id: Justin’s Tweets: 3. also noting here than in your original thread, you stated that you neither considered me nor my words to actually be lesbophobic, so a bit confused as to why your story has suddenly changed.

4. i realize you’re young, so i’m genuinely hoping you use this opportunity to learn and grow andbe a little more mindful the next time you decide to tweet.]

The next twenty minutes were pure chaos. Justin deactivated again, everyone started freaking out because that was very out of character for him. People were cancelling him because this could have easily been resolved in DMs, or tweeted without the mention of Anna (a minor) from a mainstream Twitter account.

And then, Justin Min DMed another fan on Instagram (her name is Em) about the situation.

Who is Em? For starters, I’d like to say that I personally know Em and that she’s one of my best friends. I’ve known her for more than a year now, and I can personally vouch for her. Everything that she posted is 100% true (if you want the thread where she posts proof of the DMs, please send me a different ask because I’m scared tumblr will not post this in the tag if I include it here).

The reason Justin DMed her out of all people is because he also kinda knows her? As I mentioned, Justin interacts with us on Twitter a lot, and Em is the one person he’s responded to the most, so he knows who she is. (He’s tagged her more times than other cast members, at least before all his tweets were deleted by his PR team.)

Anyway, this is what Em tweeted:

[id: Em’s tweets: please read this !!!

justin dmed me on instagram and basically the gist of it is that he hired a pr team and they tweeted the thread at anna without knowing everyone could see it. all of the tweets being deleted/ him deactivating was also them.]

Below is the image Em attached to the tweet:

[id: Justin’s DM to Em: hey. this is justin. i’m just hearing about what’s happening on twitter right now. for context, i was asked to work with a team of people to “clean up” my twitter in the past few weeks. they’ve taken the liberty of deleting a bunch of my responses and posts in order to safeguard me (whatever that means) as well as deactivating my account to comb through other things.i believe they accidentally sent anna a message and mistakenly believed the function for her to comment only would mean that she would be the only one to see it as well. needless to say, i’m no longer working with this team and want to personally apologize to her. do you know any way i can get into contact with her?]

And then, in a follow-up tweet:

[id: Em’s text at Justin: sorry for dming you again. is there any other way i can help? i just feel really bad about this whole thing and i know how quickly this stuff can spread if it’s not taken care of

Justin’s text: i mean, i guess you can share the information i’ve given you? it’ll take a bit of time for me to take back ownership on everything as i sever ties with that team, so maybe the sooner the better people know.

Em’s text: okay ! is it okay if i tweet a screenshot

Justin’s text: sure.]

Then Justin’s account got reactivated an hour ago (almost 24hs after Em’s tweets), and he tweeted this:

[id: Justin’s tweet: hi. it’s me. thank you for all your messages. this has been an incredibly tough week for me on multiple fronts. some things you might already be aware of; many other things you don’t know about.asking for a bit of privacy as i take sometime to unplug. hoping to be back soon.]

And that’s all, I think? There’s lots we don’t know about what happened yet, so please please please try not to spread misinformation. This is a stressful situation for us on Twitter, and especially for Justin, and misinformation going around is the last thing we need right now.

tl;dr: Justin Min hired a PR Team that started deleting all of his tweets and deactivated his account. Misinformation started spreading, people started cancelling Justin for no reason. The PR Team decided to respond to Anna, made the response public, deactivated again. Justin DMed Em and explained the situation, and an hour ago, he reactivated and said he’s taking a small break to sort things out.

If anyone has any other questions/clarifications, my askbox is open! Hope this shed some light on the situation <3

UPDATE 28/9/2020: Justin has DMed and apologised to Anna for the situation, and Anna has accepted the apology. Anna posted all of it on their account, but again, if you want a link, send me an ask!

#im gonna go to bed now so ill respond to any follow-up asks tomorrow #i hope this made sense #ask #anon #evelina nonesense #the umbrella academy #tua #tua cast #justin min #justin h min #justin h. min #ben #ben hargreeves #tua ben #the horror #tw: drama

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andromeda612 · 4 years ago

Text

The writer vs the liar

So, remember the prompt from a few days ago? You can chek it here

Well, I made a draft for what would be the whole fic, I'm gonna start it soon and will post it in Ao3, I would make a post when is ready and with every update, if you are interested make me know, so I can tag you.

I apologize for any mistake, english is not my first language, I hope you like it!

After Mari is expelled Nathaniel and Alix are worried and confused, because there is no way Marinette did those things (Alix defended Marinette in Reverser and I like to think that Nathaniel learned his lesson, so they are less likely to believe that Marinette would do anything of what Lila said) but all the mess is confusing. They talk but can't get a good answer. They decide to relax a little in the art club, they can't.

Marc noticing their mood ask what's wrong. So they tell him, and Marc is fast to point out all the wrong things with the whole situation. The "evidence" is circumstancial, superficial and easily planted, Damocles should have called Lila's parents too, no just Marinette's, Lila should had at least some bruises but there is no one, the protocole says that they needed to make an investigation, Mari has the right to prove her innocence, but Damocles just expelled her then and there. So yeah, the school messed up, because that failure in protocole and lack of professionalism can be addressed as neglect.

Thinking a little more they come to the conclusion that Marinette had been framed, but by who and why? If you think about it the only suspect is Lila, after all she was in the middle of the fire, but why would she did that? Marc asks for more background about this girl, because he only knows her because he had seen her sometimes in school and because Rose mentioned her once or twice, Nathaniel nor Alix have ever talked about her, Marinette either (and that interview on the Ladyblog is not that famous, so he missed it)

Alix explains the drama between those two, the seats thing (Marc tells them that it was wrong to move Mari to the back without asking her, maybe Nathaniel never had problem with being alone but he is not Marinette, they admit it was thoughtless from them and make a note to apologize later) and Marinette claming that Lila is a liar.

That catches Marc's atention, he knows Marinette, for him she is like a sister in everything but blood, after all she was the first person who was nice to him in school and despite not knowing in the time being that he has social anxiety she always was patient and kind with him until he was comfortable enough talking to her. Misunderstanding aside, she was the one who introduced him to Nathaniel and the rest of her friends from the art club, and they introduced him with the rest of their friends. Now he has two best friends (Mari and Alix) is dating his other bff (Nathaniel) has other good friends and is working in what he loves with his partner, all thanks to Marinette, so is no wonder that the two of them grew closer.

He knows that Mari hates liars, so if she thinks that this girl is a liar she must has a very good reason. Then Alix says that it just her being jealous because of Adrien. And yes, that may be true, Marinette tends to get jealous of any rival for the boy's affection, and can do crazy and, honestly, pretty bad stuff for him but again, he knows her and knows that at the end Marinette always admits her wrongdoings, apologizes and does better. He also knows that jealousy for itself is not a strong motive for dislike someone that much, because Chloe? is a brat, Kagami? He knows that Marinette actually helped Adrien in a date with her and now both girls are very good friends despite her knowing that Adrien actually is interested in Kagami, so if this Lila is really that good of a person then why Marinette seems to dislike her and think that is a liar? She has to has a reason.

When he says this Alix and Nathaniel have the decency of look ashamed, Marc is right, they (Alix and the girls the most) should have asked for her reasons instead of brush it off as simply jealousy, Marinette is better than that.

With his point clear, Marc asks for more details, maybe they can discover why Marinette thinks Lila is a liar. Again is Alix who talks (Nathaniel never had been one of Lila's admirers and he pays not much attention to the drama) and tells every story Lila told them (I'm not including the napkin incident because either Nathaniel nor Alix were there, Nathaniel was alone in another table and Alix wasn't in the cafeteria at all) and once she is done Marc is fast to point every single hole, contradiction and nonsense in Lila's claims.

Being a writer and a very active reader makes this kind of thing easy for him, it also helps that some of Lila's claims can be debunked with a little knowledge (arthritis doesn't work like that for example) and him has plenty of that, he likes to read about different topics, not just stories and comics, also is the fact that he makes lots of researching for his stories (the comic is not the only thing he writes for) even if they are about fantasy he likes them to be coherent and solid, so if he is going to use some topic he research to support his writing, so yeah he knows a little of many things. He also points out all the times Lila manipulated them so they did things for her, and how.

Now they know the truth, Lila IS a liar and a manipulative one.

HOLY SHIT MARINETTE WAS RIGHT! First they feel bad, they should have listened to her! They are also ashamed because now that they think about it most of the lies are dumb! They are idiots!

Marc is fast to comfort them, after all some of her lies are believable at least from their point of view, their class is not a normal one they have some famous people like Adrien a famous model, Chloe the mayor's daughter, Nathaniel is the ilustrator of one of the most popular comics in Paris, Marinette is Jagged Stone's favorite designer and has been prized by Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgois, Max is a genius with his own AI, there is Kitty Section and the list goes. So, one more student with conections and awesome claims is not that difficult to believe. Also, they are being manipulated, Lila use pity to make herself look vulnerable and fragil, so they would not question her or her claims, she also takes advantage of their kindness. Being fooled and manipulated is not a crime, they are victims too.

That make them feel better, but now they are pissed, because THEY ARE BEING FOOLED, MANIPULATED AND TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF! AND MARINETTE IS EXPELLED AND ALL IS THAT WITCH FAULT!

Marc is pissed too, being the patient and quiet person he is there are just a few things that makes him trully angry, but messing with his loved ones is the top of that list, and that little bitch is messing with all of his friends and his boyfriend! She is not just liying, manipulating and using them, she also gives them false hope with all the false promises she made, they are gonna be hurt once she fails in fulfil them. And MARINETTE IS EXPELLED so yeah, that brat crossed many lines.

For now they decide to talk to Marinette, Alix and Nathaniel need to apologize, and to make her know that the three of them know the truth and are by her side.

Later they discover that Marinette's expulsion is revoked, aparently all was a huge misunderstanding and Lila herself clarified the mess. Yeah, something is off here and they are not going to let their guard down, but at least Mari's name is clean.

The next day they are in the bakery with Marinette's favorite ice cream and two draws made by Alix and Nath, a -forgive-us-for-not-listened-you-and-for-being-bad-friends- gift. Marinette is relieved and actually cries of joy for having her friends by her side and free from Lila's claws, and of course she forgive them, after all they admitted their errors and apologized, also despite the evidence against her they gave her the benefit of the doubt, and for that she is grateful.

They talk and Marinette tells them how she found out the truth the same she told Alya and Nino (Marc tells her that it was not ok to follow Adrien and Lila but unlike them he still listened to her side of the story) she also point out that she ACTUALLY KNOWS Jagged Stone.

But hey! That doesn't mean that Adrien also knows the truth?

Yeah, she also tells them that Adrien is aware of Lila's true nature and also talks about the 'high road' advice. "HE TOLD YOU WHAT?"

But before any of them could get angry with Adrien she explains that he really thought her lies were harmless, also he believed that expose her would be bad because he called her out in a friendly way and still she was akumatized, but now that she was expelled he recognized that his advice was a bad one and that her lies can hurt people, he already apologized to her, and explained that he made a deal with Lila, he will be her friend and she will be a model and in return she will bring Mari back to school. He also admited that the best is to expose her, becasue netiher of them actually believe that Lila is going to let Marinette alone.

That makes them calm down, and forgive Adrien, he apologized to Marinette too and admited his error, also they think that a deal with the devil is punishment enough, and if they think about it, probably the poor boy didn't knew better, but he does now, so it's ok.

Then they learn about the threat in the bathroom and her almost akumatization. And they are even more pissed HOW DARE SHE? They apologize again for making her believe that she couldn't trust them with that. She says is ok, that she didn't take her too seriously, and she has faith in them, and so far they proved her right. Though, Marc wish that she could have talked to him at least, maybe they would have prevented all of this, but it doesn't matter.

Well, now they have one thing clear: they need to take that bitch down. But how? Lila could lie her way out, or twist the situation in her favor, they are trying to come up with a plan, but Marc is quiet, his mind working and then he has an idea.

With a calm and cool tone he says them "Just help me with some research, I'll take care of the rest" and replacing his usual sweet and shy demeanor there is a smirk and a cold determination and confidence in his face that surprise them (Nath actually finds it kind of hot)

They don't know what is he thinking, but they have seen him angry before (and thank god they have never been the cause of it, because Marc is a cinnamon roll but is very scary when is angry) and they know what his wrath is capable of. Whatever his plan is, they know is gonna work and dammit if it doesn't. They almost feel bad for Lila. Almost.

The next days they spend time together doing the investigation (they have some fun time and an awesome sleepover too), and finally they get solid proof to expose Lila, thanks to Marinette they get a video interview with Jagged Stone where the singer claims that he never had met Lila, and thanks to Marc's general knowledge in health and some help from Nathaniel's parents who both are doctors, they also get proof to debunk Lila's claims of illnes or other disabilities (specially the lying disease bullshit) and since Marc is a good researcher they manage to find some interesting stuff, like Mrs. Rossi contact information, is all in the embassy page.

With the investigation done, all what they need to do is wait for the perfect moment to expose the liar, and the oportunity comes two weeks later in the form of a picnic that Bustier's class organize just to hang out together, naturally Marc is invited and helps to organize said picnic, almost all of the class consider him a friend and one of them despite him being in Mendeleiev's class. Mari, Alix and Nathaniel still don't know what is his plan exactly, but they trust him. Adrien is aware of his plan but he doesn't know what exactly is either.

So here they are, in the park, in a cute blanket, with some delicious food and with great company (that doesn't include certain people, aka Chloe and the liar) and of course Lila is charming their friends with other of her lies, it takes all of their willpower to not roll their eyes. And then, listening carefully Marc takes the perfect moment to interrumpt the tale, social anxiety or not, that witch is hurting his beloved ones and he is not going to tolerate it, so even if he never has talked to her, fuck his shyness, that girl is gonna face the consequences for her actions. (It also helps that he is already friends with the rest of his boyfriend's class)

So, to everyone suprise he interrumpts Lila in middle sentence to point out the holes in what she is saying.

Alix, Nathaniel, Marinette and Adrien froze in panic, what is he thinking?! A direct confrontation was a bad idea, wasn't it? Marc locked eyes with the four of them and give a look thay says 'I get this' so they let him be, but now they are really uneasy.

What they didn't know is that the last days until now Marc has been doing more than just research, he was studying his enemy. Marc is a good listener, and being someone who likes to go unnoticed he became a very good observant too, he can notice little details and patterns, also he is a sensible and sympathetic boy so is easy for him to put himself in other's shoes, that combined makes him very good at reading and analysing people. He also made extra research in psychology and behaivor. So now, he knows how Lila works, he knows what to expect and how to answer. It also helps that he is very good with words, not just the ones he writes for his stories, but the ones he says and also he is very good with other's people words, he knows how to use them. That is his plan, he is going to use all his skills and knowledge to trap Lila, she thinks that she is smart and can control the situation, but Marc is going to prove that she can and will lose in her own game. Her lies are gonna be her downfall.

Lila of course tries to make an excuse or another lie to save face, but Marc refutes her again and again, and the rest of the class? Some are confused and others seems thoughtful shit! She is losing control! She tries but this black haired boy seems to be smart, he gets her cornered until the point that she can't lie her way out, and her classmates are starting to look suspicious. She tries to change tactics, the tears worked against Marinette, they will work now. She hides her face in her hands and starts to sob.

"I just was trying to share some of my wonderful experiencies with my friends, so I could give them some advice to help them in the future. Why are you being so mean? I haven't done anything to you! " That make people like Rose or Mylene to softened and go to comfort her, and between her hands she can see Alya ready to confront the boy, but Marc is ready for this kind of tactic, is his turn to make a move.

"I'm sorry but, How does this make me mean? I just pointed some facts because honestly, I'm a bit confused. At first I thought that you just made a little mistake, but then you just said another nonsense! Why would YOU do that?"

And then she is losing the little control she manage to regain. Because no matter how much they want to comfort her, Marc has a point and what he said so far actually makes sense, at least more sense than what she said. The others start to look torn between comfort or question her.

"Well... how would you know that what I said is wrong? Where is your proof?" Lila crosses her arms and look to other side, just to hide the smirk in her face, that would be enough and that annoying nobody will learn to not get in her way.

But, much to her surprise Marc actually has a good answer to that.

"Uh... comon sense? I mean, If I'm being a little honest if you think about it, some of the things you said have no... logic. Also I like to read a lot and about different things, including what you were saying so I know for a fact that some of the things you said are wrong. And my proof? Well a quick search in google is enough to prove me right"

Lila pales, she was not expecting that answer, and to her utter horror she can see some of her classmates typing in their phones, probably fact checking for once, she need to fix this now! She looks around trying to find some sympathy or something that would help, but she only see her classmates reading something in their phones and some of them are starting to frown, then she looks to Marinette and has an idea, this would break her little deal with Adrien but is ok, she wasn't planning to leave the brat alone anyway and her model career is in his father's hands, and she already has him tied around her finger.

So, before anyone could say something she sobs more louder and points a finger to Marinette.

"This is because of Marinette, isn't it? She put you into this! I-" but she couldn't finish because Marc interrumpts her, he also is ready for Lila trying to blame Marinette and he is not having it!

"And what does she has to do with this? Is not her fault that you have your facts wrong" and now the others are starting to narrow their eyes towards her, Damn it! Well she made the baker a threat, is time to fulfil it.

Lila makes the best she can to look pityful and scared. "Well... I didn't want to say this because I thought that nobody would believe me but... Marinette threatened me in the bathroom the day I came back from Achu!" She cries to everybody's shock.

"WHAT?!" Everybody screamed that. Marinette and her we-know-the-truth squad are frozen and can't believed it, THE NERVE OF THIS GIRL!

The rest to their friends are equally stunned, because they just can't believe what Lila said.

Lila using the shock continues with her sob story.

"She cornered me in the bathroom and told me that she would turn all of you against me! And all because she is jealous! And now she is using this boy to make you think that I'm a liar, just like she said!" Lila hug herself in an attempt to look small and is crying full force now.

Marc has to use all his willpower to not scream and call her a hypocrite, but he has a perfect answer for that too.

"Marinette would NEVER do that!" And to Lila's surprise and Marinette's glee is not Marc who says that, is Alya.

"Marinette is the sweetest girl, and she is not a bully!" That was Rose, who walked away from Lila like she burned her. And the rest of the class make their agreement known.

Lila really did NOT expect THAT reaction! They are supose to be comforting her and screaming to Marinette, not defending her! It's ok she can fix it.

"See? Is this why I didn't want to say anything! You don't believe me!"

Marc takes the word again "We know Marinette, we know she has flaws but she is one of the best people we know" again everybody agrees with that.

Lila is getting desperate, this is not what is supose to happen! And where is an akuma when you need it?! But Lila refuses to lose!

"Look I know you all thougth that you knew her and that she was your friend, but the truth is that Marinette is not what she seems to be, she is a manipulative liar and is just using you!"

Again, is not Marc who talks, this time is Kim

"No, you look Lila, I have known Marinette since diapers, and I know she has flaws but she is NOT a bad person"

"Yeah, and using us? She is the one who goes out of her way just to help us! She is a caring friend! Heck! We actually had to convince her that it's ok to pay to her everytime we comission something from her!" That was Nino

"And still, she gives us discounts everytime she can, but jus for the record, we have no problem in paying the whole price, Marinette, your job is awesome and you deserve to be fairly rewarded" that was Ivan, and Marinette gives him a very grateful smile, the rest of her friends agree with him and she smiles to them too.

"But-but" Lila is in trouble, she tries to think fast, but then Max just dig her hole deeper.

"Also, what Marc just said about your story is also true, all the wrong facts and holes, I asked Markov to fact check and the evidence supports Marc, the only conclusion is that you were lying to us!"

Nonononononono NO!

"And since you told us this lie like you did with any other of your stories I wondered What else was a lie? I also asked Markov to confirm every thing that you had said to us, and nearly the 86.65% was a lie"

Marc smiles, the game is going exactly according to his plan, even some of his moves were made by others, he is happy that Marinette has friends with such a faith in her, ready to stand up for her just like she does for them. But he knows that the game is still on, Lila still has some pieces, but Marc already steal her big ones, she just has some pawns to defend her King and Marc has his army intact.

Well fuck, she is doomed, the rest of the class looks ready to attack her... and then she remember her last card, it's a wild card, her lies will not work the same way anymore but she could save face, she will, eventually, come up with something to regain her control.

Well it seems that there is a limit, so I make a part 2

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melodious-madrigals · 4 years ago

Text

we should just kiss (like real people do)

hi @misha-winchester, i am your wondertrev secret santa! i hope you had a lovely christmas season/whatever holidays you may celebrate, and i hope you have a very happy new year.

Pairing: Diana Prince/Steve Trevor Words: 8′609 Rating: T (swearing) AO3 tags: Modern Setting/No Powers, co-workers, Fake Dating, ‘and there was only one bed’, Hallmark-movie-esque midsunderstandings, Happy Ending Summary: Etta just invited Steve’s significant other along on their group holiday vacation. The only problem? He made said significant other up to get out of a series of set-ups six months ago, and forgot to set the record straight. Enter Diana, his newest co-worker and real-life crush, who doesn’t have any holiday plans and is somehow offering to help him out.

i have been derelict for too long, but no more! i’m so sorry that it took me so long, and i hope you enjoy this trope-packed fic, because i couldn’t decide on just one, and then it sort of ballooned!

Read it on [AO3] or below the cut.

***

“Shit.” Steve’s head thunks against his desk.

“Problem?”

He looks up to find Diana Prince, the newest legal consultant at their NGO standing in his office door. She’s intimidating and smart and beautiful and possibly also the kindest person he’s ever met, and even though they’re friendly, she’s the last person to whom he wants to admit what’s wrong. But she’s also looking at him with such genuine concern that he spills his guts anyways.

“The last time my friend Etta tried to set me up with someone, I told her I was already dating someone, and now she wants me to bring them on our annual holiday trip to one of our friend’s cabin.” Steve kneads the space between his eyebrows, trying to get rid of the tension headache that’s starting to form.

Diana tilts her head, confused. “That’s kind of her.”

“I’m not actually dating anyone,” Steve clarifies. “I just said it to get her off my back. And now I have to either say I lied—which will not go over well for obvious reasons—or say that I broke up with the person and get all sorts of ‘holiday pity’.”

Diana leans elegantly against his doorframe. “People go their separate ways all the time, no? Besides, maybe it’s a bit soon for a weekend away with friends.”

Steve winces. “It’s possible that I told her this almost six months ago and never corrected the record.”

“Ah,” says Diana, taking the liberty of moving into his office and sitting down across from him. “So it’s rather a large deception then.”

“I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand? It was just so nice to not have my friends nagging me about my dating life. They’re well intentioned but a little too insistent sometimes.”

“Okay, so telling them is out of the question,” Diana says, very seriously. And—uh-oh, she’s going into problem-solving mode. He’s absolutely mortified that his very capable and very attractive co-worker is taking time to talk with him about this when she’s a literal international human rights lawyer and university lecturer with plenty of other things to be doing. “Hmm. Isn’t that what Craigslist is for?”

“Ha,” says Steve. “I’m never going to be able to get someone to come with me over Christmas on such short notice.”

“Not everyone has plans on Christmas,” Diana argues.

“Yeah, I get that; I’m not even Christian,” says Steve. “But a lot of people still go home because it’s a long holiday.”

“I’m not Christian either and I don’t have any family here in the States. We exist,” Diana jokes.

“Want to be my fake date, then?” The words leave Steve’s mouth before his brain can catch up and tell him what a massively stupid idea that would be, to fake date his real crush, for lack of a better word.

“Yes, alright: if you can’t find someone on Craigslist, I’ll do it,” says Diana, and then before Steve can process: “Anyways, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. I just dropped by to give you a hard copy of my revisions. She hands him the legal brief, shoots him a quick smile, and saunters out of his office, apparently unaware of the dazed state she’s left him in.

I’ll do it? Is she serious? For a second, Steve’s mind runs away from him before he shuts it down. She was just being polite; he’s certain of it. There’s no way she wants to give up her days off to go to a cabin in the middle of nowhere with people she doesn’t even know.

Steve reluctantly writes up a quick wanted ad on Craigslist and hits post before he can overthink it. He can definitely do a fake date for the holidays, right? That’s something normal people do.

Three days later, he’s gotten a dozen responses to the Craigslist ad, but most of them are variants of either “is this some weird sex thing?” or “can you please post this story on reddit’s r/relationships with an update on how it went because i’m 2000 miles away but very invested in this”. None of them are a real live person that he can take on the trip to meet his friends.

His brain has also been playing Diana’s I’ll do it on repeat pretty much constantly, so on Tuesday evening, after most people have already gone home for the night, he steals himself and wanders down to Diana’s office. If she’s in, he’ll ask. If she’s gone, it’s a sign, and he won’t bring it up.

She’s still there, illuminated only by the glow of her computer and a small desk lamp—the overhead light is turned off and her coat is on, like maybe she was in the process of leaving and then went back to her desk to dash off one email that turned into several.

He taps on the doorframe.

“Steve!” she says, smiling when she sees him. “What a pleasant surprise! Have a seat, I’m just finishing something up. It’ll only be a moment.”

He smiles nervously and takes one of the chairs opposite her desk, patiently silent as she taps away at her computer.

Three minutes later, she folds her laptop closed and turns the weight of her attention to him.

“Thank you for being patient. What can I do for you?”

“I just—were you serious?”

“Hmm?”

“The other day—were you serious about being my fake date if I couldn’t find someone on Craigslist?”

“I—yes, I was.”

“Wait, really?”

She shrugs elegantly. “I have no holiday plans.”

“You’re sure.”

She tosses him an amused expression. “I am. It’ll be nice to meet some new people.”

“Right. Well. Can I, uh, buy you dinner or something while we go over the details?”

Diana considers him for a moment. “How does Thai takeout at my place sound?”

“Like a fantastic idea.”

On Friday, Steve is extremely antsy. He’s taken a half day, and he and Diana are driving up to Charlie’s cabin after her lecture lets out.

She’s in a good mood when he picks her up, and the ensuing discussion crosses a half a dozen different topics. He doesn’t think they’ve ever had a boring conversation, and they’re more than halfway there before Steve remembers that he wanted to run through the basics of their fake-dating mandate again.

“I’ve never really been much for PDA,” he says, “so they won’t be surprised if we’re not particularly demonstrative. A little hand-holding and casual touching here and there and we’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” replies Diana, amused rather than annoyed. “You mentioned this the other day.”

“Did I? I guess I’m just nervous.” He’s already feeling a little guilty about lying to his friends (again), and he’s suddenly wondering if he’s capable of pulling it off.

“They asked me to invite you—er, my significant other—to a dinner in October. I don’t think it’ll come up, but—”

“I spent a week of October in Europe, and have plenty of university functions to attend,” Diana reassures him. “Saying I was busy that night probably isn’t even a lie, and besides, that was months ago. Take a breath; this will be okay.”

“I’m just rethinking this,” huffs Steve.

“You’re welcome to tell them I’m just a friend that needed a place to stay for the holidays,” Diana offers calmly.

“No. No, I’m committed to the lie now.”

“Okay. Then let’s do this. I’m here for you, you know.”

“Yeah,” says Steve, glancing over at her in the passenger seat before turning his attention back to the road. “Thanks.”

They’re the last ones to arrive to the cabin, because everyone else was able to take the full day off, so they walk into a full house.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!” exclaims Etta, pulling Diana into a hug before they’ve barely gotten in the door.

“You must be Etta,” Diana says, once she’s been let go. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey, Etta,” Steve says, pulling her in for his own hug.

“Everyone else is in the living room.”

They make their way down the hall, towards the sound of all the voices.

“Steve!” yells Sameer from across the room when they round the corner. A cheer goes up—it’s possible that some of them have already had a glass or two of wine—and Steve pulls Diana forward to introduce her.

“Everyone, this is Diana. Diana, this is Napi, Charlie, Etta’s wife Adrienne, Sameer, and Sameer’s fiancée Noor.”

“It’s so lovely to meet all of you,” says Diana, moving forward to shake hands and give hugs, along with Steve.

“You’ll want to drop off your luggage in your room, I’m sure,” Etta declares forcefully, shooing them back out of the room once they’re done with the greetings.

“Alright, alright, we’re going,” acquiesces Steve.

“Well, dinner will be done shortly, and I’m sure you’re hungry. Best get settled in before you go into a food coma.”

“Stop making sense,” he snarks, but they all know he’s joking.

“Second door on the left!” calls Etta after him, as they traipse up the stairs. There’s a niggling in his brain about this room, because he’s been in it once and it’s—

“Shit,” says Steve under his breath upon entering the room, because it’s one of the rooms with a single queen bed instead of two twins.

“Is there something wrong with the room?” asks Diana, a step behind him. “I’m sure we can fix it, whatever it is.”

“No, it’s just—I didn’t even think about this,” says Steve, gesturing at the bed. “Usually when I come, I’m in a different room with Charlie or Napi.”

Diana surveys the space in front of them. “You mean the bed?” Her nose wrinkles. “Are you really that uncomfortable sharing?”

“I—no, of course I’m not. I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Well then, that’s settled. I am not uncomfortable. Which side do you prefer?”

Of course it’s not a big deal. Right. He’s making too much out of this because he might—possibly—have feelings. But for Diana, it’s just two adults sharing a bed, which is perfectly natural. But now she’s looking at him expectantly, which makes him realize—“Uh, left, I guess.”

The way she smiles, he gets the distinct impression that his answer has pleased her, that he’s chosen correctly, if such a thing is possible. (He thinks, stupidly, that he would do quite a lot to chase that smile.)

Meanwhile, Diana drops her duffel on the right side of the bed.

“Do you mind if I change quickly before dinner?”

“Yeah, no, of course. I’ll just be downstairs.”

Steve heads back downstairs and pauses in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

He can definitely share a bed with Diana. They’re adults. It’s not strange, and it’s not romantic. It’s just two people sharing a sleeping space because there are not enough beds.

He reenters the living room to find Charlie and Sameer in the middle of an argument about who’s the better cross-country skier while Noor, Adrienne, and Etta chat over a cup of tea and Napi watches over several pots in the kitchen.

“The answer, of course, is neither of you. Noor is the best skier here.”

Charlie squawks indignantly, and Sameer laughs. “That she is.”

“Can someone set the table?” asks Napi. “Dinner is about to be ready.”

Steve, as the closest one to the kitchen, pulls out the plates and silverware and starts setting up the table, while the others slowly drift towards the dining area.

And then there’s a gentle pressure on his elbow. “Can I help with anything?” asks Diana, softly, and when he turns, he feels the air knocked out of him.

Diana is all comfort, in simple black leggings and a chunky winter sweater instead of her usual pristine business wear, but she’s all the more beautiful for the casualness. Her face, too, is wiped clean of standard makeup and her hair is down, and he realizes that she has freckles. They’re faint, just the slightest smattering over her nose and cheeks, but Steve is close enough to see them, and for a second he wants to touch them, trace them into constellations.

Then he realizes he’s staring and jumps a little, moving to rearrange the plate in front of him.

“You could, uh, fold the napkins, I guess? There isn’t really a whole lot to do.”

They work in tandem as the rest of the crew files in, loud and boisterous as they dish out their meals.

“So, Diana,” says Etta, once everyone is settled in their seats, “tell us all about yourself! Steve’s been so tight-lipped about you that I was starting to think you didn’t exist.”

Steve almost chokes on his wine, but Diana doesn’t so much as flinch, simply smiling at Etta and saying, “Well, I’m not sure what you’d like to know, but I’m originally from one of the Grecian islands and I completed my studies in the UK. Right now, I’m splitting my time between the US and the Netherlands.”

“Oh, what part of the Netherlands?” asks Noor. “Sameer and I both lived there, at different points!”

“Just the Hague, I’m afraid,” says Diana ruefully, because it’s not known for its charms.

“Diana’s on a prosecutorial team at the International Criminal Court,” Steve clarifies, which prompts a number of impressed looks all around the table.

“We’re in between cases right now,” Diana says, “and we’re only just starting to file some pre-trial motions for the next thing on our docket, so I took a position as a guest lecturer here in the States. A friend of mine convinced me to take the consulting position at the ARGUS Foundation since it’s not full-time.” When Diana pauses, she notices a number of raised eyebrows around the table. “I think the expression in English is ‘I wear a lot of hats’,” she jokes.

“She’s a wonder,” interjects Steve easily, and he doesn’t even have to work at the soft look that he gives her. (He’ll interrogate the fact that it’s just how he looks at her later, when he’s alone and can have a nice little panic about it.)

“I just like to have purpose,” says Diana, and then Noor asks her about her last case, and the conversation takes on a life of its own.

Diana, as he suspected, gets on well with his friends, fitting in as though she’s known them years instead of hours, and they migrate into the living room after dinner, talking and laughing into the late hours of the evening.

“They are all lovely,” Diana tells him the moment the door to their room has closed behind them.

“They’re okay,” says Steve, but his face is pulled up in a smile, and Diana just laughs. He’s spent all evening getting to look at her whenever he wants, and even though they’re alone, even though there’s no need for his eyes to keep finding her, he doesn’t want to pull them away.

“They’re all so interesting!” Diana exclaims. “Sameer and I talked about linguistics for a full half an hour, and Etta and Adrienne’s stories are incredible!”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah, Etta’s something else.”

They talk a little more as they get ready for bed, and finally there’s nothing more to do but turn out the light and get under the covers. Steve’s tired enough that he thinks he has a decent shot at falling asleep, but he feels a little awkward as they both shift carefully on their respective sides.

“Hey,” he whispers into the deepness of the silky black night. “Thank you again for being here.”

“It is my pleasure.”

He listens to Diana’s breathing quickly even out, and though it takes him a little longer, he too falls asleep without too much trouble, despite her nearness.

To his great relief, or maybe to his great disappointment, they wake up in almost the exact same positions that they fell asleep in, on completely opposite sides of the bed.

“Good morning,” says Diana softly, hair slightly mussed and eyes still a little heavy with sleep, and frankly Steve’s not sure how he’s going to make it through the rest of the trip, because he likes her so much and also doesn’t want to impose his feelings.

“Good morning. I hope you’re ready for another insane day.”

“Once I’ve had some coffee, absolutely.”

“Well then,” says Steve, “let’s get you some coffee.”

Coffee is followed by breakfast, which is chaotic because everyone is up at slightly different times and traditionally, they fend for themselves for breakfast which means in practice that half a dozen people end up doing things in the kitchen at the same time.

The rest of the day is no calmer, as they all pack themselves up and spill outside for a snowy hike that lasts most of the afternoon. Diana, Etta, and Napi establish themselves as the fastest hikers early on, and they sort of naturally split into two groups. The whole group meets back up at one of the lookout points, where the faster group has lingered to let the rest catch up.

Steve uses the viewpoint to check in with Diana. “You doing okay?”

When she turns to him, her cheeks are rosy with exertion, her breath is coming out in silvery puffs in the cold air, and her eyes are dancing. “Excellent, you?”

“Really good.” They take in the snowy view in front of them. “Hey, I didn’t mean to leave you on your own,” Steve says, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

Diana snorts. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I was the one that walked ahead of you. If I’d been bothered, I wouldn’t have split off with Napi and Etta.”

“Right, of course.” He feels a bit stupid; she’s never struck him as the type to do something she really didn’t want to.

“We should probably walk back together though. For appearances.” She winks at him, and before he can respond, Noor is at his elbow.

“Can I take a picture for you two?”

“That would be great,” says Diana, handing Noor her phone as she slips her arm around his waist.

Pictures are snapped, and then they’re headed back down the trail. Steve ends up so engrossed in his conversation with Diana that the rest of the group fades away, and on the last straightway after they’ve descended, Diana reaches out and casually links their hands. Even through their gloves, it’s a giddy feeling.

That night after dinner, Steve steps outside for a moment of respite from the noisiness of the cabin. He breathes deeply, and stares at the patch of sky not covered in clouds, picking out a familiar constellation.

“Diana’s wonderful.”

Steve looks up from where he was leaning against the balcony railing to find that Etta has joined him outside.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” Steve agrees.

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable introducing us earlier,” says Etta so sincerely that Steve feels a squirming guilt welling up. “But if this was the pace you needed to go to be sure of your relationship, to make it solid and lasting, I’m glad you took the space to do so.”

“Right,” Steve echoes.

“Seriously, Steve,” says Etta, touching his arm, so that he’s almost forced to look at her. “You and Diana are so well-suited, and she’s good for you—I’ve never seen you like this.”

“What’s this?”

Etta contemplates him a moment. “You’re happy,” she says simply, and Steve rolls his eyes, because if Etta thinks just being in a relationship equates to—“but it’s not just that. You’re…still. Calm. You’ve usually got this frenetic, discontented energy, and with Diana it’s quieted.”

It makes Steve pause, but before he can say anything—refute her or maybe, heaven forbid, agree with her—Diana herself is bursting onto the balcony.

“There you are!” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around him from the back, and fuck, maybe it is his instinct to relax in the split second before he remembers that this is all an act. “Charlie says we’re roasting marshmallows over the fire, and I’m told that you have the technique perfected,” she says, with all the exuberant glee of a child.

Steve pointedly ignores the knowing, indulgent look on Etta’s face as he turns in Diana’s arms to face her, a small but unquashable smile on his face. “That’s a classic holiday tradition for us—I was wondering when Charlie was going to break them out. Have you ever had a s’more?”

“No, but I’m looking forward to it!”

“Well, then we can’t let Sameer or Etta roast yours; they always burn them.”

“It’s meant to be eaten with a little char,” says Etta.

“Absolutely not!” Steve doesn’t have time to say any more, because Diana has laced her hand in his and his gently tugging him toward the interior.

“Right. This is an American classic and you’re gonna love it.”

After making her the perfect marshmallow—gold and toasty, and soft all the way through without being burned—the rest of the night is spent roasting increasingly silly things over the coals and drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate and eggnog that are optionally spiked, utterly warm and cozy.

“Tell me something about yourself,” requests Diana, when they’re tucked into bed later, still on their own sides but far closer together than they were the night before.

“Like what?”

“Something—well, not something secret, if you don’t want to. But something that most people probably don’t know.”

Steve considers her for a moment, shifting so that he’s facing her, the moon providing just enough light that he can see the contours of her face. “I wanted to be a pilot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be a fighter pilot.”

Diana grins. “I can see that. What stopped you?”

“I decided I wouldn’t really be helping people, and helping people is what I wanted to do. What about you?”

“What did I want to be?”

“No, just—anything.”

“Hmm,” says Diana. “My favorite childhood memories are those of my aunt, Antiope.”

“Was she the cool aunt who spoiled you rotten?”

“She was the aunt that got me up at six in the morning every day to train.”

“Wow, that’s neat, I guess,” Steve deadpans, and Diana laughs in the darkness, rolling onto her side so that she’s facing him, so that they’re almost nose to nose.

“She was also more indulgent than my mother, yes.”

“I think we have very different definitions of indulgent,” says Steve.

“Perhaps,” says Diana, and despite how late it is, they spend another hour or two trading secrets in the darkness before falling asleep. Steve learns, among other things, that she loves cherries more than any other fruit, that she’d rather take the metro than a cab any day of the week, that she played the harp for a while and misses playing music but not playing the instrument itself. When they finally drift off to sleep, it’s still facing each other, fingers inches apart.

Steve wakes up feeling incredibly comfortable and very cozy. It’s only when he stretches a little that he realizes that the warm weight against his chest is not his blanket, but Diana. During the night, they must have migrated into each other, because now that his brain is coming back online, Steve realizes that not only is Diana tucked into his chest, but their legs are twined together. His shifting causes her to stir a little, but only to nuzzle against him a little before settling.

This is fine; he’s not freaking out. Not about how they’re accidentally pressed together, or about how much he likes her, or about what any of this means. Not about lines blurring and becoming harder to make out, not about lying to his friends. He’s fine.

Taking a breath, he weighs his options. He can wait for Diana to wake up and pretend he’s still asleep, and let her figure out how to react, or he can try to extricate himself now. Although it might wake her up, and then it would be doubly awkward, and—

And he’s waited too long in deciding, because Diana stretches a little sleepily and then blinks her eyes open, looking up at him.

“Good morning,” she says, apparently unbothered by their position. It’s making him spiral in confusion, and want, because it would be so easy to lean forward and kiss her, but neither has she directly expressed interest in him romantically, so he’s not about to actually do it.

“Did you sleep well?” asks Diana, gently untangling herself and sitting up.

Now that Steve thinks about it, he realizes that he’s slept better than he has in ages.

“Yeah,” he affirms a little hoarsely. “You?”

“Very well.” He’s considering saying something else—anything else, maybe apologizing for how closely they slept or, alternatively, telling her he adores her—when she continues, “How do you think everyone would feel about quiche?”

“Quiche?”

“One of the few reliable things I can cook,” says Diana, “but I have a good recipe, and I’m quite certain we have everything I’d need.”

Steve blinks. “I think it’d go over well.”

“Perfect!” Diana slips out of bed, sliding across the room with more of her infectious energy as she gathers her clothing for the day.

By the time Steve gets downstairs post-shower, Diana’s got the crust rolled out and blind-baking and has a number of veggies sautéing.

“Oh, good, you’re here! Can you pass me the mushrooms?” she asks, and he obliges, then takes it upon himself to crumble the cheese for her.

“Do you cook a lot?” he asks, and then curses himself, glancing around to make sure they’re alone and that nobody heard what was clearly a question that he, by all rights, should know the answer to. Blessedly, the only other person up is Napi, and he’s out on the porch.

“Not if I can help it,” says Diana. “You?”

“I enjoy it,” says Steve.

“Enjoy what?” asks Sameer, who’s just come down the stairs.

“Passing me ingredients when I tell him to,” teases Diana, successfully covering up what may have been a slip-up, because Sameer just rolls his eyes.

“You two are ridiculous.”

“More like adorable,” says Etta, who has apparently also been summoned by the smell of brewing coffee. “By the way—how did you two start dating? I’ve been meaning to ask since I never heard the story from this one”—she gestures at Steve—“and I’m sure it’s equally adorable.”

Steve can’t believe they’ve come this far without being asked, and that they didn’t do a better job of anticipating this question. He’s about to bumble his way through a response, but Diana, who is now pouring the egg mixture into the pan, has it covered.

“It’s sweet to me because it is ours, but I think you’ll otherwise find it quite boring. My third day of work, I came to his office by accident, looking for another colleague, and we traded a couple of jokes. Two days later, a bunch of people from the office went out for drinks after work, and I ran into Steve again. We spent a lot of the evening chatting, and when we left for the evening, he walked me to my train, and as we were waiting on the platform, he asked me out. He was kind and funny and handsome; there was no reason not to say yes.”

For a moment, Steve feels like he’s been hit by a train, because that’s actually how they met. They did spend an evening chatting, and he did wait on the platform with her. The only bit that didn’t happen was the asking out, and now he wonders what might have happened if he had. Then he reminds himself that it’s all an act, and she’s supposed to be acting like she likes him. He’s getting reality confused with the little mirage they’ve created.

“—it is sweet though,” Etta is saying when he snaps back to attention, unsure of just how much he’s missed.

“Yes, Steve is very thoughtful,” says Diana fondly.

He doesn’t really get a chance to ask her about it, because soon everyone is crowded around the table for breakfast, and that quickly turns into a card game, where they get separated by a few seats. It all somehow blends into lunch, as people swap in and out, Sameer and Noor doing the cooking, this meal, with Adrienne flitting in and out to help as she puts up a few extra lights for tonight’s Christmas eve celebration. He tries not to think about it too much, because Diana looks like she’s having a good time, and he is too, and eventually he gets swept up in the game, focusing on counting trump and keeping track of tricks and arguing genially with Charlie about who may or may not be cheating.

“Steve.” Diana pulls him aside after lunch, tugging him into their room.

“What’s up?” She looks entirely too serious, and it worries him. Is this about their story? Is something wrong?

“First kisses are always a bit awkward,” she says bluntly.

It’s so out of the blue that Steve’s brain doesn’t even short-circuit. He just blinks. “Yeah, usually.”

“Well, I just saw Adrienne putting mistletoe up. Your friends are wonderful people, but if we don’t get caught under it naturally, they’ll make sure we do.”

She’s got his friends pegged; that’s absolutely how they operate.

“They’ll recognize something is off if we’ve never kissed. I think we need to practice.”

Now Steve’s brain short-circuits.

“Practice.”

“It’s the only way to make sure it’s not during an ambush.” Her eyes are wide and she’s very close, so close that one of them could erase the distance without even taking a step, but she’s paused, waiting.

Waiting to see if it’s okay, if she has his consent.

His thoughts flick back, inexplicably, to this morning. (Was it really just this morning that they woke up tangled together? It seems a week ago already.) Knowing what it’s like to kiss her will probably explode his brain, but not knowing is worse. He nods, just a fraction, words caught in his throat, and then she’s closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

Fireworks are for dramatic novels, but the world still shifts on its axis. It’s soft and slow, exploratory, but the pressure is somehow just right, and it consumes him. It’s everything he never let himself imagine it would be, and more. When she eventually pulls away—seconds, minutes, hours later, he’s not sure—he chases her lips for a moment before remembering himself, marshalling his reaction and pulling away in equal measure.

“Right, so. No mistletoe first kiss,” he manages, because seriously, what the fuck, he’s never had a first kiss feel that natural, that right.

“Mission accomplished,” says Diana faintly. “I think we’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Steve echoes, and he thinks he sees Diana’s gaze flick back to his lips, dark and heavy, but then there’s the pounding of feet on the stairs and shouts outside their room.

“Steve! Diana! Are you in for another round of cards before we start the movie marathon?”

Diana startles, and takes three steps back, smoothing down her hair, her shirt, before opening the door to find Adrienne there, looking at them expectantly.

“Yes, of course,” says Diana.

“Oh,” smirks Adrienne, giving them a once over. “I can come back.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll come down now; I want to get a cup of tea before we start up again. Steve?”

“I—yeah, a cup of tea would be great. Black tea—”

“—with a dash of honey, I know,” she says fondly, as if this is old news and not something she’s clearly picked up in the last day and a half.

“Thanks.”

When he collects himself and comes downstairs a few minutes later, he spots Diana across the room, head thrown back in laughter as she chats with Napi over the kettle.

She fits, he thinks. He’s seen her in professional settings, being diplomatic even when she doesn’t want to be, but here, she’s relaxed, and from everything she’s said, she likes his friends as much as they like her. Isn’t it sort of everyone’s dream that the person they like gets along with their friends?

He takes another second to try to untangle his thoughts before he gets ushered back into the fold and has to pretend that everything is uncomplicated.

Christmas day dawns bright and cold, and sees, for the second day in a row, Diana snuggled into Steve. Despite another meandering conversation in the dark—in which he absolutely chickened out of asking her about the backstory she created for them, or the kiss—and starting the night on different sides of the bed, they seem to have rolled together in their sleep, and if he didn’t wake up with an absolutely parched throat, Steve would’ve probably gone right back to sleep, enjoying the warmth. Instead, he extricates himself gently, and by the time he gets back to the room a few minutes later, Diana is up and dressed, dashing any plans he might’ve been entertaining for a bit of a lie-in.

As with most things on their holiday trips, the day is centered around food. There’s a huge brunch, and then a little foray outside—nothing like the hike the day before yesterday, just a little walk that turns into a snow angel contest—and then it’s back inside to start cooking Christmas dinner. It’s Etta and Charlie taking point, because, as Steve explains to Diana, the group rule for any and all holidays is that those who observe do the traditional cooking, and everybody else takes care of the clean-up.

At one point in the afternoon, a trivia game gets pulled out, and in a classic showdown of boys (Steve, Sameer, Napi) vs. girls (Diana, Noor, Adrienne), the ladies trounce them thoroughly. There’re plenty of mimosas and someone starts a Christmas playlist, and honestly, Steve can’t think of a better Christmas in a long, long time.

They don’t really exchange ‘real’ gifts, but they do have a long-standing tradition of an intense game of White Elephant, which happens after dinner.

No less than 4 items (a succulent in a corgi-shaped pot, a coffee mug with some gratuitously dirty language on it, a pair of wool socks with Munch’s The Scream emblazoned on them, and an umbrella patterned with cartoon gentleman amongst the raindrops so that it’s always raining men) get stolen so many times that they hit the limit. (Diana walks away the proud owner of the socks, thanks to a strategic steal by Steve, which sets her up to steal them for the last time.)

The mood is so light that Steve has almost forgotten that this isn’t quite real, that he’s lying to his friends and sort of lying to Diana, too. That comes crashing down when they bump into each other coming back into the living room.

See, Steve and Diana had managed to casually avoid the newly strung up mistletoe all of Christmas Eve and most of Christmas day—at least together, that is; at one point Steve finds himself under the mistletoe with Sameer, and they both dramatically grip each other for a theatre kiss—by sheer luck, but their luck runs out after White Elephant. Steve has gone into the kitchen to deposit an empty tray of food, and Diana is on her way back from the bathroom, and they collide in the doorframe.

Instinctively, Steve puts a hand out, touching the small of her back lightly to anchor himself and steady her. It’s just a casual touch, but he lingers a second too long.

“Oooh, look! Steve and Diana are under the mistletoe!” sings Adrienne, pointing from across the room.

Steve glances up automatically, as though maybe Adrienne might be wrong, even though he knows damn well that there’s mistletoe hanging there.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” chants Etta, clearly a little tipsy, and the rest of his asshole friends join in the chant.

Steve’s eyes flick to Diana’s, and she raises an eyebrow, inclines her head almost imperceptibly. It’s permission, so he leans in and gives her a quick kiss, their lips barely touching. He’s not sure he can handle more in front of his friends right now, not with all of the emotions pooling in his stomach.

“Boo!” yells Charlie. “You and Sameer had a better kiss than that!”

There’s general clamoring of assent, and Diana reaches out and cups a hand to his cheek, to a great whoop from someone in their little peanut gallery. “If you are uncomfortable, we do not have to do this,” Diana murmurs, low and close enough that only he can hear it.

The real problem is that Steve wants little more than to kiss her again, but he feels guilty about it.

“It’s okay.”

She searches his eyes for a moment, and then closes the rest of the distance, kissing him properly. He sinks into it, and relishes in the little gasp he elicits when he deepens the kiss just a little. It’s the catcalling that splits them apart, and he’s sure he looks a little shell-shocked.

“That’s a kiss!” hollers Adrienne.

To his surprise, Diana doesn’t immediately move away from him, but stays tucked into his side, blushing a little.

“You’re all just a little too invested in our love life,” she admonishes lightly, but the point is missed as Etta launches into a bit of a ramble about how Steve introduced her to Adrienne by accident and how she’s been looking to return the favor, but that she’s glad Diana is here.

Steve watches Diana go a bit pink again, and wants to pull her aside, try to clear some things up, but then there’s another round of mulled wine, and they settle in for one last Christmas movie before the day ends.

Diana goes to bed before Steve does, while he stays back to have another round with Charlie, and by the time he realizes that he wanted to talk to her alone, she’s fast asleep.

The morning of the twenty-sixth is chaotic from the start; Diana’s up and out of bed before Steve wakes up, and then everyone is scrambling to pack up before they all drive back to the city. This time, Diana and Steve have got Sameer and Noor with them, because they came with Napi, who’s leaving directly to visit some extended family, and Etta and Adrienne don’t have enough room because they’re Charlie’s ride. It’s a pleasant ride, and Noor, Sameer, and Diana spend a solid half hour swapping in and out of Arabic to tease Steve, who does speak three languages himself, but doesn’t count darija as one of them.

They drop Noor and Sameer off with promises of seeing them at Etta’s party on New Year’s Eve, at the very latest, and suddenly they’re alone again.

“Thank you again for doing this,” says Steve. “You were the best fake date I could’ve asked for.”

“It was my pleasure,” says Diana. “I had a really good time, and a fun holiday.”

“And you really don’t mind putting in an appearance at the New Year’s Eve party?”

“Not at all. I’m actually looking forward to it.”

“Good; I think everyone is looking forward to having you there.”

They’re quiet as they pull up to Diana’s building.

Before Diana can move to get out of the car, Steve takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.” Her wide eyes are trained on him, and he almost loses his nerve.

But it’s now or never; he has to know if this is just him or if she feels something too. “If I had asked you out, that night on the platform, would you have said yes?” It feels like the safest version of the question he wants to ask.

Diana doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

It knocks the wind out of him and is simultaneously one of the best things he’s ever heard, because maybe that means there’s still time to make a proper go of it.

“Do you—”

He’s cut off by Diana leaning forward and kissing him sweetly, and he instinctively pulls her a little closer, deepens the kiss without consciously thinking about it.

“Sorry, I interrupted you,” says Diana, biting back a smile when they eventually pull apart, breathless. It makes Steve laugh, and he can’t fight the grin that’s also building. There’s no one around to fool, no one around even to prepare for; this is just them.

“Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?” Steve asks, bubbling with a profound sort of happiness. “For a real date this time?��

“I would love that,” says Diana, grinning. “No tricks, no fake backstories. Just us.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Just give me a couple of hours to shower and change and answer a couple of emails?” Diana says.

“How does seven sound? I’ll cook.”

“I can’t wait.”

He watches her go, almost floating from how giddy he feels. As he drives home, he mentally goes over what he’ll need to get for the meal he wants to make. Truly, it was the best fake date ever; he might, he thinks, even consider posting the story of it to the r/relationships thread like one of the Craigslist messages asked, because it’s so wonderfully peculiar.

“Right on time!” says Steve with a grin when Diana knocks on his door that evening for their date.

His smile falls when he notices her face, tired and serious, despite how light it had been only hours ago.

“Steve, I have to go,” she says without preamble.

“What?”

“I’m flying back to the Netherlands tonight.” What? That can’t be right; she’s not due back for several months, and even that’s only a trip. Steve’s brain lags a second and then realizes she’s still talking, dark eyes all apologies. “—straight to the airport from here, actually. I just came by to say goodbye. It seemed like the sort of thing that should be done in person.”

“But what—”

“You know who Patrick Morgan is, yes?”

Of course he knows who Patrick Morgan is; he’s a war criminal who was only caught and extradited recently. It made waves when jurisdiction was given over to the ICC, at least among the relevant international communities.

“The war criminal?” he asks, just to confirm.

Diana nods. “That’s the one. Look, I’m not really meant to be talking about my cases, but I’m on the prosecutorial team and his lawyers are good. They’re trying to file a pre-trial motion that would—well, let’s just say it would be bad if the judge ruled in their favor. We’re scrambling and I’m needed back at the office, in person.”

“Shit.” There’s nothing else to say, really. She’s the one who can make sure Patrick Morgan doesn’t hurt anyone else, and that’s that.

“It’s awful timing,” whispers Diana, and there’s true regret in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. You’re doing what has to be done.”

“I wish it didn’t,” says Diana. “I wanted to—I don’t know, go on a proper date and go to your friends’ New Year’s party with you, and this has just—it’s mucked it all up, hasn’t it?”

“An understatement,” says Steve, laughing wetly. Maybe—

“I have to call the ARGUS Foundation from the car, get everything squared away in regards to my commitments there. Gods, this is such a nightmare.” Diana’s pacing now, and Steve can see all their possibilities slipping away, now that she’s returning to the Netherlands. It’s not the most important thing, this casualty of what could have been, but it still breaks a little piece of Steve’s heart all the same.

“I wish we had more time,” says Steve, a little bittersweet, because there’s not much else to say. Diana sends him a sad smile and nods.

“I really have to go. I might even miss my flight as it is.”

“Right, of course.”

She looks at him hesitantly for a moment, like she’s going to say something more, and then pulls him into a hug. As she pulls back, she kisses him softly. It feels like goodbye more than any words could.

Then her phone rings, and she looks at him apologetically one more time, a quick, “I’m sorry,” before taking her leave and answering it. He hears her frustrated Dutch echoing down the hall as she walks away.

After she leaves, he feels a little aimless, and a little numb. It doesn’t quite sink in that Diana is gone, but he does think, absently, that something bad was bound to happen, because nothing catastrophic happened over the holidays—no real fights, no disastrous weather; it all went too smoothly.

The next few days are a slog: he’s back in the office, technically, but everything has slowed down substantially in between the holidays, just enough to not really keep him occupied.

It scares him a little how much he misses Diana. They were sort-of friends before the fake-dating charade, more friendly-coworkers than anything, but he got used to her being a part of his daily life absurdly quickly and is having a hard time adjusting back. They could have been something spectacular, he knows, if circumstances hadn’t made it impossible.

She texts him when she lands, and he’s glad to know she’s made it safely, but it ignites a fresh wave of ache such that he’s almost glad she doesn’t answer his text back, or text again. He ends up ignoring his phone, mostly, trying to distract himself from thinking about what wasn’t meant to be. (It’s bad luck with fate: if they’d had more time, if they were something real, he might consider moving, but it’s too soon, too early, even if he thinks he might already love her.)

On New Year’s Eve, he spends most of the day cooking, Netflix on in the background, whiling away time before the party Etta and Adrienne are throwing.

“Where’s Diana?” asks Etta, when she opens the door and finds Steve there, alone, carrying three tiers of Tupperware and a bottle of champagne, because of course she does. All his friends adore Diana too.

“She had to fly back to the Netherlands for a case,” says Steve morosely, unable to say anymore because he might choke up, and crying is fine but not during a New Year’s Eve party.

“Oh, what a shame she’ll miss New Year’s! When is she coming back?”

The fresh, stricken look on Steve’s face tells Etta everything she needs to know. “Oh, luv, I’m so sorry. I know long distance isn’t easy.”

It’s the perfect excuse presenting itself, really. In a month, Steve can say that the distance was too much, and Etta will understand, and that will be that. He’ll be out of this lie, too, with no one the wiser that it started as a fake thing. But right now, Steve is still mourning the fact that it never got to be anything real in the first place.

“It is what it is,” says Steve, trying for a smile.

“Well,” says Etta, also going for something resembling cheery. “We’ve got plenty of alcohol and a place for you to crash tonight, if you want it.”

“Thanks, Etta.”

He whiles away the night nursing a glass of wine and floating amongst friends and acquaintances, trying to enjoy the merriment. Etta, bless her, must spread the word that Diana had to leave for work, because only Noor asks after her, right after he gets inside. After that, he doesn’t have to answer any further questions, and instead focuses on the laughter and brightness radiating from his friends.

At a few minutes to midnight, he slips off to a quiet corner, not quite ready to face the rowdy, kissing couples.

Somewhere behind him, the apartment door slams, and there’s something of a commotion, but he doesn’t bother to investigate until—

“Did I make it in time?” asks a breathless voice.

Steve turns, and there, standing in front of him, a vision in a bright red coat, is Diana.

“But how—?” She’s meant to be in Europe, but she’s very much not. She’s here.

She’s here.

“We finished a little early and I got the first flight out. I took a cab from the airport to get here as fast as I could.”

“You hate cabs,” says Steve helplessly, fixating on something that’s very much not the point because it’s one of the many strange things they talked about, and because it’s somehow easier to focus on than any other part of it.

“I wanted to be here.” Her eyes are twinkling, and Steve can’t quite believe she’s here, on New Year’s Eve, and—shit.

“But what about the case?”

“We got the motion thrown out,” she exclaims, delight lacing her words. “We’re proceeding as scheduled. I’ll have to go back for a bit starting in May, but—”

That phrasing catches Steve’s attention. “Wait, you’re not moving back to the Netherlands permanently?”

“What?” asks Diana, looking genuinely perplexed. “No! It was just a business trip, inconveniently timed. I was never moving back. Did you think—”

“I thought—” says Steve, at the exact same time.

There’s a look of recognition on Diana’s face, as if she’s doing the maths, going back over the conversations they had once more in her head. She bites her lip, shakes her head. Laughs.

“We are both a bit stupid, I think,” she says. “I was never going to be gone more than a week or two, but I suppose I didn’t make that clear enough. I thought it was just bad timing, since we were starting something, but you—”

Steve shakes his head, incredulous. “I thought I might never see you again, but you’re really here.”

Diana reaches out and ever so softly touches his cheek. “Yes. So, did I miss the countdown?”

Steve stops fighting the smile that’s building. “Nope. And you know, they say whatever you’re doing at midnight you’ll be doing for the rest of the year.”

“Do they? You’d best choose wisely, then.”

“I’ve got an idea.” The countdown hasn’t started yet, but he leans in slowly anyways, because he figures they’ve wasted enough time. She meets his lips eagerly, and in the background, Steve can hear Etta’s whoop of excitement, but really, the only thing that matters is Diana, and the feel of her lips underneath his.

It’s just as earth-shaking as it was the first few times, but they break apart momentarily as the countdown actually begins from the other room. When midnight hits, they kiss again, a little shorter this time, their smiles too wide to make it a proper kiss.

“Happy New Year, Steve,” whispers Diana, forehead pressed to his.

“Happy New Year,” he echoes. An endless plurality of shifting possibilities stretch before them, elastic and hopeful, and very real once more. From the other room, the chords of a piano start, a telltale sign that Charlie has started his traditional rendition of Auld Lang Syne.

“You know, eventually people are going to realize our anniversary isn’t in July.”

That elicits another giddy laugh, because somehow, he’s gotten lucky enough that this is his reality. “Yeah, but that’s a pretty good problem to have, all things considered. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“No,” says Diana thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t either.”

***

#misha-winchester #wondertrevsecretsanta #wondertrevsecretsanta2020 #wondertrev #diana prince #steve trevor #userpine

22 notes · View notes

perlukafarinn · 5 years ago

Note

prompt for you: coffee shop + robots + hurt/comfort?

deancas / 5k(ao3)

Dean hasn’t showered in five days. He’s got twenty-three unread messages onhis phone and eight missed calls. He hasn’t bothered to check his email sincelast week.

Being around other humans is out of the question right now but fortunately,Dean works from home and the coffee shop closest to his apartment isandroid-run.

Chuck’s isn’t a great place. The coffee is only okay and theidentical android baristas creep Dean out but right now, he doesn’t care aboutany of that. He just needs to get his caffeine fix without feeling like he’sbeing judged by strangers.

The barista manning the till today is ‘Steve’, according to his name tag. Hegreets Dean and takes his order with polite indifference, eyes not lingering onDean’s greasy hair or the ratty grey hoodie he’s been wearing for two weeksstraight now.

Dean pays for his coffee then goes to wait by the counter to pick up hisorder. He’s currently the only customer, not surprising considering it’s fiveAM. For once, Dean’s fucked up sleeping schedule is working in his favor.

“Large black coffee to go?”

The voice is right next to Dean’s ear and he flinches back, turning aroundto find the barista standing not two feet away, holding Dean’s coffee. He’sidentical to Steve but according to the name tag, this one is called ‘Castiel’.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbles, holding out his hand.

Castiel doesn’t give him the coffee. He tilts his head, observing Dean. “Areyou alright?”

Dean blinks. This is not how it’s supposed to go – the androids follow avery set script and they don’t deviate from it, ever.

“What?”

“I asked if you’re alright,” Castiel repeats. Those android-blue eyes arewide and sympathetic.

“What’s it to you?” Dean snaps, off-kilter and embarrassed. Apparently, helooks so pathetic now that even unfeeling robots are taking notice. “Just gimmemy coffee.”

Castiel purses his lips and for one wild moment, Dean’s sure he’s about tobe sassed by a robot.

“As you wish, sir,” Castiel says instead, finally handing over the coffee.

Dean snatches it without a word. He feels off-balance and embarrassed, andhe just wants to be back in his apartment where no one can see or judge him.

He sips his coffee as soon as he’s outside, too much and too fast, burninghis tongue. It kind of feels like karma.

It’s another three days before Dean finds himself back at Chuck’s.He’s showered in the meantime but the messages still sit unread on his phone –up to thirty-six now – and the phone calls still go unanswered.

It being early morning – still night, really – means that Dean is once againthe only customer in the shop. There’s also just one android behind the counterthis time and unfortunately, it’s just the one Dean didn’t want to see.

Castiel gives Dean an unimpressed look as he approaches, clearly rememberinghim as well. “How may I help you?”

“I – uh – large black coffee,” Dean says. When Castiel just looks moreunimpressed, he quickly adds, “To go. Please.”

“Anything else?”

Dean shakes his head.

As Castiel prepares the coffee, Dean watches quietly. The way he looks, theway he moves seems completely human. Dean at least couldn’t tell thedifference. It’s impressive and more than a little disconcerting.

Castiel shoves the coffee in the go-to cup onto the counter, snapping Deanfrom his thoughts.

“Your coffee, sir.”

Dean takes it, hesitating as the guilt squirms in his gut. He’s come to theuncomfortable realization that if Castiel were human, he wouldn’t havehesitated to apologize for his rudeness. It doesn’t seem right not to, justbecause of that.

“Look, I’m sorry.”

Castiel regards him coolly.

“About last time,” Dean elaborates. “That was… I’m not usually rude toservice workers.”

“I suppose I am the exception,” Castiel says dryly.

Dean shakes his head. “It wasn’t anything personal. I was just having a reallybad day. You didn’t deserve to have your head bitten off for asking aquestion.”

Castiel looks surprised at that. He tilts his head and Dean squirms underthe intensity of his gaze, all too aware of how filthy his hoodie has gottenand the fact that he hasn’t bothered to shave since he last showered.

“Is today better?” Castiel finally asks.

“Not really,” Dean admits.

Castiel’s expression softens. “I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. His palm is getting uncomfortably warm fromholding the coffee. “Listen, I gotta-” he gestures at the exit.

Castiel nods. “Enjoy your coffee.”

He says it with a smile. Not that service-industry,my-bosses-tell-me-I-have-to kind of smile but small and genuine. It makessomething in Dean’s chest constrict.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

The bell chimes as he exits, much too loud in the otherwise quiet space.

Dean stops by Chuck’s during the afternoon a couple of days laterand Castiel isn’t working. There’s Jimmy, Emmanuel, and Lucifer (what thehell), and they’re all identical to Castiel but none of them are him. Theydon’t ask uncomfortably personal questions or give any indication that Dean isdifferent from any other customer.

Dean gets his coffee to go and ignores the pang of disappointment.

The next morning, a couple of hours before sunrise, Dean drops by again andthere Castiel is, working the graveyard shift by himself.

“So, you only work the night shifts?”

It occurs to Dean only after he’s said it just how stalker-y he sounds. Likehe’s been paying attention to Castiel’s schedule.

But if Castiel is at all put off by or creeped out, he doesn’t show it.“Yes. I’ve been told I’m better suited for it.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel rubs the back of his neck. It’s an oddly human gesture. “I’m notvery good with people.”

“But you’re an android,” Dean says, confused. “What are people reallyexpecting?”

Castiel doesn’t say anything. He looks uncomfortable and it occurs to Deanthat him being an android isn’t the problem; it’s the fact that he doesn’treally behave like one. He’s personable in the way the rest of them aren’t, alittle too intense for comfort.

Dean clears his throat, feeling distinctly like he just put his foot in hismouth. “Well, I think you’re doing fine.”

Castiel’s lips quirk in a faint smile. “Thank you, Dean. Did you wantanything?”

“Oh.” Dean shifts, warmth rising to his cheeks. “Um, yeah, large blackcoffee to go?”

“You’ve got it.”

Dean’s not sure how many unread messages there are on his phone now but itwas up to forty-two the last time he checked. Most of them are from Charlie,because she is the only person Dean knows who is more stubborn than he is. Hehasn’t opened any of her messages but he sends her a quick update to let herknow he’s alive, just to make sure she doesn’t show up unannounced at his apartmentto check.

Most of the rest of the texts are from Benny but there’s also a couple fromBobby and two from Tessa, Dean’s editor. He hasn’t opened those because he hasnothing new to show her, so why bother?

He doesn’t need to check to know that there are no messages from Sam.

Given that he’s ignoring every other person in his life, it’s strange howquickly it’s become routine to go down to Chuck’s at unholy hours inthe morning and chat it up with Cas.

Not that Dean would call them friends or anything but maybe that’s whatmakes it easier. There are no expectations when he’s talking to Cas. He doesn’thave to be fine.

Sometimes Steve is working too and those nights, Dean takes his coffee andgoes. Other nights, it’s just him and Cas.

The bell chimes as Dean enters and Cas calls without looking up from thetill, “Large black coffee to go?”

It’s probably an android thing. Then again, Dean could be getting just thatpredictable.

“Got it in one.”

Cas gets to work and Dean leans against the counter while he waits,watching. It still freaks him out a little, seeing the way Cas moves. There’snothing off about it that Dean can put his finger on; maybe it’s that thosemovements are just a bit too smooth, not so much practiced as predetermined bysome program.

“What is it that you do?” Cas asks, cutting off Dean’s train of thought.

“Do?”

“For work,” Cas clarifies. “Or school, most of our late-night customers arestudents.”

Dean snorts. “Go figure. I’m, uh, I’m a writer.”

The word feels awkward coming out of his mouth. No matter how many times hesays it, it always feels like a pose.

“Do you not enjoy it?” Cas asks.

“Sometimes,” Dean says. “Why?”

“You were making a face.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “I was not making a face. And how would you know,you weren’t even looking!“

Cas gives him a deadpan look and Dean blushes because, oh right, android.For all he knows, Cas has a second set of eyes hidden underneath thatsurprisingly realistic head of hair.

“I’m just- nevermind,” Dean says. “Do you enjoy what you do?”

Cas approaches, handing Dean his cup. Their fingers brush as Dean takes it,causing a small shock of static electricity.

“It’s what I’m programmed to do,” Cas says.

Dean takes a sip. The coffee is a little too hot still and it tastes asmediocre as it always does. It wouldn’t surprise him if every cup Cas makes wasidentical to the last. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“Sometimes, then. It depends on the customer.”

“What about right now?”

Cas smiles but doesn’t respond. “What do you write?”

Not much lately, Dean thinks with a grimace. It’s been days since he evengot one word down.

“Mostly short stories,” he says. He’s not sure what possesses him to add,“And it hasn’t been published but, uh, some poetry, too.”

“Poetry?” Cas repeats.

“Yeah. You read it?”

Cas ducks his head, looking bashful, and Dean finds himself thinking that’sa good look on him. If he were human, he might even be blushing.

“I do,” he admits. “I enjoy it very much. I’ve even tried to write somemyself.”

His voice goes quieter as he says that last part, embarrassed almost, andDean feels a sudden swell of affection that catches him off guard.

“Maybe you could show it to me sometime?” he asks before he can stophimself. At Cas’ obvious reluctance, he adds, “I’ll show you mine if you showme yours?”

Cas huffs out a quiet laughter. “I’ll think about it.”

“All I ask,” Dean says, grinning over the rim of his cup as he takes anothersip.

Despite Dean’s precautions, Charlie drops by his apartment unannounced acouple of days later. Apparently, ‘still alive, stop texting’ counts as a cryfor help, go figure.

Her visit is short because Dean’s apartment is a mess and he’s not gonna lether in but she still manages to pester him on a long list of topics from thedoorway: to call Bobby (fine), to take a shower (it’s only beenthree days), to go outside (does going to Chuck’s count?),to see his therapist (hell no).

The moment she brings up Sam, he slams the door in her face.

He doesn’t go to Chuck’s that night, his mood too foul and hisenergy sapped. He sleeps through the night and most of the day, findinghimself wide-awake the following evening as his sleeping schedule has beenthrown for yet another curve.

It’s a little past midnight, so not the hour he usually visits, but Deanneeds to go outside and feel like something resembling human for at least a fewminutes.

Chuck’s is unusually busy – there’s two people sitting by thewindows, chatting over their coffee, and for once there’s a line, albeitconsisting of just one person. Dean waits, nodding at Cas when he waves at himfrom behind the counter. Steve is working tonight as well and he’s the one totake Dean’s order while Cas makes the coffees.

As Dean waits, his phone starts ringing. It’s on silent but the vibrationsare obnoxiously loud, almost worse than the ringtone. Dean doesn’t need tocheck to know that it’s Charlie so he ignores his phone, letting it ring out.

“Shouldn’t you answer that?” Cas asks as he approaches.

“Shouldn’t you mind your business?” Dean snipes, reaching out and snatchingthe coffee from Cas’ grasp before he can hand it to him.

He knows he’s being a dick but he can’t help it. He feels tired andfrustrated with himself and with Charlie, and allowing it to transform intoanger is all too easy.

Going out tonight was probably a mistake.

“I was just asking a question,” Cas says, annoyed. “There’s no need to bitemy head off.”

The words ping something in Dean’s head and he knows, he knows heshould just apologize and go home but it’s like he’s watching himself from theoutside, unable to control what he’s saying.

“Then stop asking questions. Just do your damn job and stop acting like youcare when we both know you’re incapable of it!”

He’s not being loud but the words echo around the shop anyway, causingeveryone to fall silent. Dean is all too aware that the other customers are nowlooking at him and even Steve has stopped to stare but he doesn’t care aboutany of them. Doesn’t care about anything but Cas and the visible hurt he’sradiating.

“That’s not true,” he says weakly. “You know it’s not true.”

Dean swallows. Might as well finish this, push Cas completely away. “No, Idon’t.”

He leaves before Cas can respond, throwing his coffee in the trash on hisway out.

Dean knows he’s fucked up. He’s let this escalate too far, let himself sinktoo low, and now he’s hurting not just himself but the people around him.

At a loss for anything else to do, he picks up the phone and finally callsCharlie back.

She picks up on the second ring. “Dean? Is that really you or did someonesteal your phone?”

“Very funny,” Dean says dryly. He rubs his eyes, already feeling dreadpooling in his gut. This shouldn’t be this hard. “I, uh. I think I need somehelp.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end. “Yeah, of course. What can I do?”

It’s been two weeks since Dean last visited Chuck’s.

He’s been to see his therapist four times in that period, at first escortedby Charlie and then managing the last visit by himself. He’s been out to meetup with friends, all of them politely ignoring the weeks of radio silence andpicking up where they left off. Even Bobby’s been by, mostly to bitch at Deanfor never calling and to complain that the elevator in his apartment buildingsmells like weed.

He’s been in contact with Tessa, getting an extension on the deadline forthe first draft of his novel and a gentle kick in the pants to just finishpolishing his short story collection so it can be sent to print. His sleepingschedule is finally approaching something regular again, though it’s still notexactly normal.

He still hasn’t contacted Sam but, y’know, baby steps.

The one other thing hanging over Dean’s head is his last conversation withCas. He’s not sure their friendship can be salvaged but he at least owes Cas anapology and an explanation. Android or no, it’s obvious that Dean hurt hisfeelings.

On the short walk to Chuck’s, Dean practices over and over in hishead just what he’s gonna say to Cas. He briefly wonders if he’ll be able tosay anything if there are other people around but that turns out to be a mootpoint; when he enters the shop, the only person there is Cas.

He looks up as Dean enters, and he’s clearly shocked to see him but schoolshis expression quickly enough into a blank stare.

“Welcome to Chuck’s, how may I help you?”

Dean winces. Okay, so he deserves the cold shoulder but it still doesn’tfeel good.

He opens his mouth, panics as he realizes he has no idea what to start with,and ends up blurting out, “My dad died.”

Cas blinks. “I’m… sorry?”

“That’s not-” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I meantto say.”

“Your father didn’t die?”

Dean clears his throat. “No, he did. I just – I’m not expecting you toforgive me or feel sorry for me or whatever, just because my dad died. I justneeded you to know that what I said the other day had nothing to do with you.”

At the mention of their last meeting, Cas stiffens. He doesn’t say anythingand Dean’s not sure if that’s a good sign. It at least means that he can keepmaking an idiot of himself until Cas sees it fit to stop him.

“I’ve got a lot of issues,” hah, understatement, “that I haven’t really beendealing with. And I just… I get angry sometimes, ‘cause it’s easier. But I’mstarting to work through it now and I hope you do forgive me ‘cause I want usto stay friends.”

Cas is still staring wordlessly at him. The urge to look away or to turntail and flee is strong but Dean resists it. He got to say his piece, now it’sCas’ turn.

“So, yeah,” Dean finishes lamely. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

Cas finally looks away. His expression is impossible to read.

“We’re friends?”

The question catches Dean off guard. That is not what he expectedCas’ takeaway to be.

“I mean,” he shrugs, “if you want?”

“I’ve never had a friend before,” Cas confesses quietly. His expressionshifts, becoming determined. “Yes, we are friends.”

The tension leaves Dean’s body and he laughs at the relief of it. “Okay.Awesome.”

“Yes,” Cas agrees. He smiles and Dean didn’t even realize how much he missedthe sight of it until just now. “I forgive you but you have to stop getting madat me for trying to be nice.”

“I will, I promise.”

Cas nods. “Good. And don’t think I’m giving you a discount on your coffee.”

“Buddy, it’s a buck fifty a cup. I think I can handle it.”

Dean is relieved to fall back into the same routine with Cas. Things are alittle awkward his first couple of visits to Chuck’s but they smoothover soon enough. Cas is easy to talk to and being around him makes Dean feelcomfortable in a way he can’t quite define.

Charlie would love him, Dean thinks, but he hesitates at the thought ofactually introducing them. He kind of likes having Cas to himself.

One early morning, Dean comes running into the shop to escape the torrentialrain. He shakes himself off as he enters, running his fingers through his hairto keep it from sticking to his head.

“Dean,” Cas greets him warmly, cup of coffee already ready on the counter.“I have something to show you.”

Dean approaches the counter, wincing at the way his shoes squelch as hewalks. He should’ve just sucked it up and put on some rainboots. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember when we talked about poetry?”

Vaguely, but there’s one part of it Dean definitely recalls. “Are you gonnashow me something you wrote?”

Cas nods, a hint of shyness in the way he holds out his touchpad to Dean.“It’s not very good but-”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Dean teases, grabbing the pad.

He picks up the coffee with his other hand, sipping as he reads:

“Green is the color of grass

Or so I am told although I have yet

To discover that for myself.

But is it green like the dollar bills

I am handed in exchange for warm cups of coffee

Or green like your eyes?

I hope it is the latter.”

Warmth rises to Dean’s cheeks. He can guess the subject of Cas’ poem easilyenough – just how many green-eyed customers is he likely to have developed apersonal relationship with? – but he can’t work out what it means. Is Cas awareof the fact that humans consider poetry to be romantic? Did he mean it to comeoff that way?

Would Dean mind it if he did?

“What do you think?”

Dean looks up. Cas is watching him anxiously, clutching one hand in theother and clearly preparing himself for the worst.

Dean hands him the pad. “I like it.”

“You do?” Cas glances down at it, then back at Dean. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s very,” don’t say romantic, “evocative.”

Christ, way to sound pretentious.

Cas smiles, hugging the pad to his chest. “Thank you. It isn’t easy, writingfrom personal experience when you have so little of it.”

Dean nods absentmindedly. Then he pauses as he realizes the full meaning ofCas’ words. “Wait, so have you never really seen grass?”

“Do you see any in here?”

Stupidly enough, Dean looks around. “No, but- you must have seen itsomeplace else?”

“I’ve never left this building.”

Dean’s brain grinds to a halt. “What?”

“I haven’t had reason to,” Cas says. “I work on the first floor and rest inthe facilities upstairs.”

“Yeah, but – never?”

“Well, I am only six months old.”

“What.”

Six. Months. Old.

Dean just had romantic notions about the android equivalent of a toddler.He’s taken his anger issues out on that toddler twice now. Jesus fuckingChrist, Cas has had to deal with Dean’s crap for almost half his life.

“That doesn’t mean I am the same as a six-month-old human,” Cas says, as ifhe can tell what Dean is thinking. “My programming holds extensive knowledge ona number of topics, including human behavior. I probably know more about itthan you do.”

Well, Dean brought that one on himself.

“Okay, so, brushing past the whole ‘six-months-old’ thing,” Dean grimaces,“how have you still never left this building? Are you not allowed to?”

Cas shifts, looking nervous. “It’s not what I’m programmed for.”

“Is that a no? What would happen if you were to leave right now?”

“Nothing,” Cas admits. “It doesn’t happen often but my supervisors do haveother androids on hold in case someone abandons their post.”

“So, you could leave?” When Cas just looks increasingly uncomfortable, Deansighs. “Do you not want to leave? Is that it?”

Cas shrugs. “Where would I go?”

“Somewhere with grass?” Dean suggests. “The park? The beach? I don’t know,fucking Las Vegas?”

Actually, Dean would pay good money to see Cas deal with Vegas.

“It isn’t that I don’t want to see other places,” Cas says. “But I’ve neverstepped a foot outside this building. I wouldn’t know how to do it.”

He doesn’t say it but he’s broadcasting it so loudly he might as well have: Casis scared. And Dean can’t exactly blame him.

He takes another sip of the coffee. It’s already lukewarm.

“Dunno what to tell you, Cas. Can’t have those personal experiences if youdon’t risk something.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Judging by the look on his face, he’s deep in thought.

It’s May 3.

Dean was planning on calling Sam yesterday. He dialed his number multipletimes part way through before hanging up. Even got up to five digits a coupleof times.

He just can’t figure out what to say. The last time he talked to Sam, it wasto tell him their father had died and all Sam had to say in response was thathe wouldn’t be able to make it to the funeral.

And that was their first conversation in almost two years.

Dean doesn’t wanna dwell on Sam or his stupid birthday but his mind keepscircling back to it time and time again. It’s been too many birthdays since hesaw his little brother last. Dean doesn’t even know if he ever stopped growing.

He’s in a lousy mood by the time he heads down to Chuck’s and Cascan obviously spot it from a mile away. He doesn’t say anything, though, andDean manages not to be a rude piece of shit this time as he orders his coffee.

After they’ve sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Dean puts them bothout of their misery.

“It was my brother’s birthday yesterday.”

Cas stills. When he talks, it’s clear he’s picking his words carefully. “Ididn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t like talking about it.” Dean leans on his elbow. If he’s beingmopey, he’s got reason to be. “I haven’t seen Sam since he went off tocollege.”

“Why not?”

Dean hates telling this story. He’s really only done it twice, once to histherapist and once to Charlie, but he was wasted that time so he’s not evensure that counts.

But then, he knows Cas isn’t gonna judge him. It makes it a little easier.“Dad didn’t want him to go. They got into a huge fight and when it got down toit, I basically had to pick a side. I guess I picked wrong.”

“But your father is dead,” Cas says, as if Dean needs the reminder. “Surelythat must change things.”

Dean shrugs. “You’d think so.”

“Have you told him that you want to make up?”

“He knows I do. I called him after Dad died, told him he should come downfor the funeral.”

“Was that all you told him?” At Dean’s incredulous look, Cas gives him apatient smile. “I’ve found that humans sometimes need these kinds of thingsspelled out for them. They tend to assume the worst, otherwise.”

Dean opens his mouth. Closes it again. He doesn’t have an argument here.

“Well, he should know,” he settles on, just to be petulant.

Cas takes the cup from Dean’s hand and Dean startles, realizing that heemptied it without paying attention.

“You should call your brother,” Cas says.

Dean stares at him, something stirring in his chest he doesn’t have a wordfor.

“You sure they didn’t program you to be a bartender?”

“I do make a mean Tom Collins,” Cas deadpans.

Dean doesn’t call Sam. Whatever conversation they need to have feels tooimportant to have over the phone.

He has Sam’s address. He also has a nice car that’s been cooped up in thecity for too long and a job he can do from anywhere. There is literally noreason he can’t take off for a few days on a cross-country road trip.

There’s just one thing he needs to do first.

The sun has just begun to rise when Dean parks outside of Chuck’s.It’s far later in the morning than he’s usually there and there are a couple ofcustomers inside, the very beginnings of the morning rush, but Cas is stillbehind the counter, along with another android, probably just about to finishup his shift.

Dean gets inside, walking past the line by the counter and getting someangry grumbles from the lady up front.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas looks up from where he’s working the espresso machine and smiles atDean. “Hello, Dean. You’re later than usual.”

“Yeah.” Dean shifts on his feet. This feels like a bad idea but it’s toolate to turn back now. “I’m going to California. To see Sam.”

Cas falters for just a moment before continuing his work, motions smooth andpracticed. “Oh.”

Dean waits as he finishes up. Once the order is ready and Cas has a momentto talk, he continues:

“Come with me.”

It comes out as barely more than a whisper but he knows that Cas heard it,because he goes completely still.

“What?”

“Come with me,” Dean repeats.

“Dean,” Cas says, and it already sounds like a rejection.

“You said you could leave, so leave. You’ve got somewhere to go and you’vegot someone to go with.”

Cas looks at him, eyes wide and begging him to understand. “Dean, I – youdon’t want me to go with you.”

“I don’t want to go without you,” Dean counters. Whatever Cas is feeling,this much he knows. He’s never been so sure of anything. “Come with me toCalifornia, Cas.”

For a long moment, they just stare at each other. Dean is vaguely aware thathe’s causing a scene right now but it doesn’t matter.

“Steve,” Cas finally says.

“Yes, Castiel?” Steve answers pleasantly.

Without breaking eye-contact with Dean, Cas reaches behind him and loosenshis apron strings. “I quit.”

“You what?”

Cas doesn’t respond, shucking the apron off and leaving it in a heap on thecounter. Dean watches, heart hammering in his chest, as Cas opens the gatebetween them and steps through. It’s strange, having his view of Cas becompletely unobstructed.

“Are you coming?”

Dean shakes himself. He grins at Cas, feeling giddy as their steps fall intoan easy rhythm. It’s not until they’re by the exit that Cas hesitates, that helooks unsure.

“It’s okay,” Dean tells him.

He swings the door open with one hand, holding the other out for Cas. Aftera moment, Cas takes it, intertwining his fingers with Dean’s and squeezingtightly. It doesn’t feel quite like holding a human hand, the skin of aslightly different texture, but that’s okay. It’s Cas.

“C’mon,” Dean says. “California’s waiting.”

Cas takes a deep breath, visibly steeling himself, and nods.

They step outside.

#deancas #destiel #spn fanfic #perlukafarinn writes #coffeeshop AU #robot AU #hurt/comfort #depressed!dean #robot!cas #writer!dean #in case anyone is wondering how dean can afford to live as a writer #without a second job #despite not writing all that much #that's bc i'm picturing this as a society where ppl generally have higher standards of living and need less money #since androids do so much of the work #also i am using android/robot interchangably sorry

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talpup · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealousy of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Doing a double update this week for two reasons. One of which is because I’m really excited to share chapter 101. A LOT will be going down next chapter.

Chapter 100

Yami rubbed his eyes, tired from the late night spent in Jax’s office. The secret meeting had felt like it would never end, everyone talking and theorizing about all they had learned. Yami could’ve kissed Greywright when the Commander called an end to it saying it was getting them nowhere. Exhausted from the long day and troubled sleep of the night before, Yami couldn’t have agreed more. The meetings talk had devolved into a mess of words that had left his mind fogged and dizzy.

Having told Jax he would fill Bran in on the rest in the morning, Yami had taken the younger man out for a ride to do exactly that. Jax hadn’t been happy. The Captain was protective of his squad and didn’t like another member being brought in and endangered by all this. Jax hadn’t been much happier about Yami going out for a ride either; but had relented now knowing the cause of Yami’s added aggression, and wanting to help in away way he could.

Back from their ride, Yami latched the gate behind Pilfer. “Any questions?”

“Too many.” Bran stepped back from No Name’s closed kennel. After hearing the whole of it all, his mind was even more fried than it had been after last nights meeting.

“Any questions I can answer.” Yami clarified.

Bran thought a moment, nothing and everything flipping through his mind at once. He shook his head. “None that I can formulate or think of now.”

Yami nodded, understanding. If Bran hadn’t been overwhelmed from sitting in on last nights meeting, he certainly was now. “If you do have any don’t go bugging Teris or Jax.”

“Does that mean I come to you?” Bran asked, a little too eagerly.

Yami nearly said no; but he was the one who had brought Bran in on this. He was responsible for the kid now. As if he hadn’t felt responsible enough for Bran before, what with being Vice Captain and the way Bran looked up to him.

Giving a nod, Yami grumbled. “So long as you aren’t a nuisance.”

“I won’t be.” Bran promised.

“I know it was said last night and I stared with it. But you really can’t tell anyone. Family. Friends. Sir Jorah. Anyone.”

“I know. I won’t.”

Thinking of how poorly he and Teris had masked their own knowledge about Ellara when faced with the Advisor a few weeks ago, Yami told. “And no letting on that you know. So stay well away from Olsen, Iban, and Ellara if you can’t act dumb.”

Before Yami could say that he should stay away from Iban and Ellara regardless, Bran told.

“I can act dumb! I’m real good at it.” Bran grimaced.

Yami chuckled and turned to the path that led up to the house. “Come on. Let’s get inside. I’m hungry.”

100.2

Jon turned the corner to see a squad member leading Jax down the hall.

“On your way to see Captain Julius, Captain?” Jon questioned.

Jax turned, his escort doing the same.

“I’ll take Captain Jax, Fragil. I’m on my way there anyway.”

Fragil nodded and left the two men, going about her business.

Pulling up beside Jax, Jon utterly softly. “You all must’ve learned something really important or disturbing last night. I woke up early this morning to find Captain Julius in his study surround by books. Don’t think he ever went to bed.”

“I didn’t go to bed either.” Jax yawned. “And it was both important and disturbing. How are things with Kess?”

“You say you learned something important and disturbing enough that you and Captain Julius didn’t go to sleep, yet are asking me about the Silver Eagles Captain?”

“No. I’m asking about your new betrothed who just so happens to be the Silver Eagles Captain.” At Jon’s look, Jax shrugged. “What? Someone elses troubles help take my mind off mine.”

“What makes you think the engagement is troubled? And how did you hear of it? We were only just betrothed yesterday afternoon.” Jon’s eyes narrowed. “Have you and my Captain been gossiping again?”

Jax smirked. “News like this travels faster than Wild Fire in a windstorm. So, are congratulations or sympathies an order?”

Jon gritted his teeth and opened his Captain's private study door.

“Stop!” Julius spun around, hand outstretched.

Jax stopped in mid-step.

Julius quickly created a time sphere for all inanimate objects in the room, freezing them in place. “Alright. It’s safe now.”

“Are you sure about that? Julius, what…” Jax slowly stepped inside, concerned eyes looking about the room.

Jon followed in the Black Bulls Captain's wake. He quickly closed the door behind, not wanting any servants or squad members who might pass to see the manic mess. And it was a mess. Books were piled as high as a man was tall. Countless tomes laid strewn open over each other, covering every surface from tables to chairs to the backs and arms of a sofa. There were even a couple books precariously balanced on a pot, crushing some poor plant. But it was the scrolls and loose leaf papers that really made the scene. They were scattered everywhere. Apparently out of room Julius had begun laying pages out on the floor. And when that wasn’t enough, he had taken to tacking things on the wall and pinning them to the curtains.

“Julius! What the--” Jax tripped over the curled part of a scroll, Julius’ spell making it immovable. The Black Bulls Captain cursed, taking several steps to steady himself.

“I had Marx transcribe what Bran overheard, and what the History of Chaos said about the portrait, along with what Teris read from Captain Shadow’s journal.” Julius said, as if that explained the state of his private study.

Jon looked between the two Captain's. “She was able to read it?”

Jax frowned. He was going to tell his friend that it still didn’t explain all this, but Julius spoke first.

“I can’t believe you let Teris keep Captain Shadow’s journal.” Julius said, neither man acknowledging Jon’s question.

Jax shrugged a shoulder. “Seemed reasonable since she’s the only one who can read the hidden message.”

Reasonable as it was, Julius wasn’t having it. “But you know how she is. What if she--”

“Became obsessed and stayed awake all night, littering the floor with paper and pinning things to the walls?” Jax cut in over his friend, looking pointedly around the room.

“I know about the journal you found.” Julius said, reasoning his behavior.

Jax made a face, feeling both guilty and grateful he hadn’t been able to tell Yami about the journal two days ago when Yami had called him out on holding a secret. “I’m going to tell them.”

“You can’t. Teris will--”

“Do the same as you and make a mess of the general study at my base?” Jax questioned over Julius. “Maybe. But we promised those two no more secrets. More than that, Teris and Yami have the History of Chaos. After what we learned last night. Given what you and Greywright came to suppose after I found that journal Iban told me about… What if you and Greywright are right?”

Julius’ eyebrows pulled together. He didn’t like Jax thinking he was right. He didn’t want to be right. It had been a crazy theory at the time. It was still a crazy thought. Just because what they had learned last night further pointed to such a possibility didn’t make the idea any less insane. But given everything else; talk of Chaos and primordial forces, and crazy zealots who wanted to end everything to start a new beginning. Was the notion that they were dealing with someone that old really that insane?

Sighing, Julius relented. “Fine. But at least wait a couple days. Give them tomorrow off to relax and unwind. They’ll need it.”

100.3

Ready for a nap after a hearty lunch, Yami entered Teris’ makeshift office. He shook his head, seeing her bent over Captain Shadow’s journal exactly as he figured she would be. “You gonna obsess over that thing all day?”

“I’m rereading, not obsessing.” Teris muttered, without lifting her head.

“What obsessive freaks like you and Julius call rereading. Normal folk call obsessing.” Yami teased.

“You’re far from normal, Sukehiro.”

Yami smirked, hearing the smile in her voice. He pushed aside the journal Jax should've taken away from her last night and set a plate of food in front of her.

“Hey!” Teris complained, reaching for the diary. Seeing the food, her brows furrowed. “What’s this?”

Yami leaned back against the table. “What’s it look like?”

“Lunch.” Teris’ eyes widened. “It’s lunch time?”

“Past.” Yami crossed his arms and stared down at her. “See what I mean about obsessing?”

Teris’ stomach grumbled. She blushed.

Chuckling, Yami encouraged. “Dig in.”

“Thanks.”

Yami kissed her head, hand smoothing her hair. “I’m gonna take a nap. If you’re not at the table for supper, I’m coming in here and burning that thing.”

“You wouldn’t.” Teris said with certainty.

Yami righted, hand falling to his side. “Try me.”

Feeling less certain, Teris turned in her seat to look at him. Finding his expression void of taunting or humor, she complained. “You’re terrible.”

A small grin cracked Yami’s somewhat stern expression. “Yet you choose to be with me. What’s that say about you?”

“That I’m either a fool or glutton for punishment.” Teris half grumbled, half played.

“Well I know you’re no fool. As for punishment...” Yami’s eyes raked over her, crooked smile growing. “The only punishment I’d ever give would be pleasurable for the both of us.”

100.3.2

Yami closed the door to Teris’ makeshift office feeling a light-hearted ease despite all they’d learned last night. After teasing Teris like that and seeing her beautiful blush, how could he not? Teris was capable of making all his troubles disappear with a single smile. She--

Yami’s footsteps stopped as he passed the narrow door of the servants stairs. “I told you to stay away from Teris. What are you doing sulking around her?”

“I’m not here for Teris. Why do you think I let you sense my presence?” Iban stepped out of the dark opening that led down to his lab.

Yami turned, watching the Blood Mage appear out of the enclosed stairwell.

Iban looked Yami over and tisked. “You really are having a time of it aren’t you?”

“A time of what?” Yami asked. Even without Bran having overheard the conversation between Iban and Ellara, it was always better to play dumb and hope Iban would give further information for free.

Iban stalked closer. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Vice Captain. I can help.”

Yami would’ve rested his hand on the hilt of his katana; but he rarely carried the weapon around the house. Instead he placed a hand on his left hip. “I already told you never to mention that dark magic ritual of yours to me again.”

“I am not speaking of the communicative dreams with the page of Chaos. I am speaking about the trouble you are currently having with the Darkness building within you. ” Iban said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Creepy.”

“So that dark, consuming pull I feel is not beginning to effect your temper?” Iban questioned. “At first I thought it was simply because you have such a short temper as it is. But I was wrong. The force within you is greater.”

“Greater?”

“Greater than the Light that is within--”

Yami snarled, daring Iban to say Teris’ name.

Iban smiled and went on. “I think the Darkness within you is far greater than Alowishus Spade could have ever imagined.”

“But you can help.” Yami supplied with a huff.

Iban gave a single nod.

Yami’s lip twitched in another sneer. “You wanna help? Tell me about this Darkness that’s supposedly building inside me. Way is it so much stronger? What do the Agents of Chaos want with it? What do they have planned for the Winter Solstice?”

“Sorry, Vice Captain. Such answers are far too costly.”

If it weren’t for what Bran had overheard, Yami would've thought Iban was referring to the price it would’ve cost him. But now he knew otherwise. Alowishus Spade had forced Iban into some sort of vow of silence; and the the cost the Blood Mage was referring to was the cost to lives of Iban’s family.

“There’s people working on it. I don’t need your help.” Yami gruffed.

“Who? Captain Jax and Commander Greywright?” Iban’s eyes glimmered in the dim hall light. “Our Captain and Knights Commander are highly capable men. But this is so far from their field of expertise. No doubt that is why the Captain has not told you of the assistance I gave him several weeks back. Because Captain Jax has deferred to Captain Julius. And the Azure Deers Captain is overly protective of his little sister, and protege.”

Yami’s eyes narrowed wondering what he was talking about.

“No doubt you mean Captain Julius and Senior Investigations Mage Marx are working on it.” Iban went on. “Such great scholarly minds might be able to find something that may be of assistance. But will they find it in time? And will it help enough? I can feel the force seeping from your seams. It is like the pressure of an oncoming storm. Ready to burst and wash us away at any moment.” He tilted his head, staring Yami in the eye. “I wonder which you will do first. Kill everything in sight, including your friends. Or head straight to Teris to--” His words cut off in a gurgle.

Hand around Iban’s throat, Yami growled. “Say her name again and I’ll end you.”

“I—be—lieve—oo.” Iban choked.

It was a fight for Yami to force his hand to release the Blood Mage. He stepped back, corded muscles trembling with bridled energy. Never had he moved so fast without mana skin. He could have killed Iban. He had wanted to kill him. The only thing that had stopped him was a small lingering voice of reason. And that voice was quickly fading. Iban was right. He would soon lose control to the force inside him. He had to get a handle on this or else…

Yami looked down the hallway toward Teris’ makeshift office. He could sense her mana as bright as any ships warning beacon. Never before had he worried at how her mana called to him, but he started to now.

Regaining his breath, Iban followed Yami’s gaze. “She may be able to stop you. Call you back as she did once before. But do you really want to put her through that? To take the chance that she will be unable to? That you will devour her and destroy everything in sight?”

“I don’t want your help.” Yami rumbled.

Iban heard the conflict in his voice. “This one will not cost you, Vice Captain. After all it is a form of self preservation.”

Tempted as Yami was, there was one thing stopping him. “No doubt it entails black magic.”

“Yes.” Iban admitted. “It is unavoidable. After all it is black magic that is causing this. Or have you deluded yourself into believing that things Alowishus Spade is doing, including the rituals he put her through and has in store for you, is nothing but benign sanctioned magic.”

Yami glared and told again. “I don’t want or need your help.”

“I admire a man who doesn’t want to dabble in black magic.”

Yami looked skeptically at Iban.

“What? I do.” Iban exhaled, slowly. “That said. In this instance. You either get your hands dirty with black magic. Or you will see them soaked with blood.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“What? Seeing you tainted by using black magic? Or seeing you stained in the blood of your friends?”

Yami ground his teeth, wishing Iban would stop calling such images to mind. “This force inside me is connected or part of my magic and mana, right? Why can’t I just use so much mana a day and stop it from overflowing?”

“That might work for a time.” Iban said.

Yami growled. Julius had given the same answer when Yami suggested it during last nights meeting.

“There is a mana source that could be of help. But I am fairly certain you would be even less likely to accept his assistance than you would mine.”

“Why?” Yami asked.

“Why Spade’s mana? He is Death. The father of Darkness.”

Yami almost ask how Alowishus Spade’s mana could be of help but it didn’t matter. Instead, he asked. “Why me? Teris didn’t have this problem.”

“Your counterpart is not a third seventh born son. Nor does she wield three types of magic from three different worlds. She is from this land. In tune to this lands magic. Her ties are deep. The roots of House Nova’s bloodline goes back further than the Clover Kingdom itself. The family one of the oldest this land has.”

Frowning, Yami shook his head. “I wield no magic from other worlds.”

“Do you not?” Iban questioned.

“My homeland has no magic.”

Iban sighed, annoyed at Yami’s small mindedness. “I am not here to convince you of your unique power, but to offer you a way to deal with the force growing inside you.”

“I said no.” Yami growled, wanting to pummel Iban till the answer got through his thick head.

“Very well. You know where to find me when you change your mind.”

Yami watched Iban turn back toward the servants stairwell, presumably to return his labs. A nagging worry made him call out in question. “What happens if we manage to stay out of the Agents of Chaos’ grasp and their sick ritual doesn’t go down? Do I stay like this? Does the force inside me continue to build until it takes over completely? Or will it just go back to normal?”

Iban looked over his shoulder wearing a crooked smirk. “It is both cute and sad that you think you have a chance of evading them. The man is Death. One would think that you would have grasped at least that by now. You cannot avoid Death, Yami Sukehiro. In the end, Death will always have its way.”

100.4

Olsen’s smile grew at the sound of rowdy banter coming from the dining hall. He heard Venice ask about tomorrows plans and something made him stop short. As a gentleman, Olsen made a point never to eavesdrop. Especially when a lady was talking. It didn’t matter that Venice's question might not be addressed to anyone in particular. Or that the rest of the squad was likely at the table making the conversation far from private. It was still unchivalrous.

Yet Olsen had no control over himself as he inched quietly closer, and listened in, eyes unfocused.

100.4.2

“I’m not sure.” Teris answered Venice's question.

“You should take the day off.” Jax encouraged from his seat.

Teris turned to the Captain. “Really?”

“Yeah. You both should.” Jax said, looking to Yami who sat to his left. He smiled, pleased Venice had given him a way to go about Julius’ ask without raising too much suspicion. The Azure Deers Captain had been right, of course. Whether he was going to tell Yami and Teris about the journal the day after tomorrow or not; his Vice Captain's needed a days break.

Yami’s eyes narrowed. Jax had managed to get the entire squad, save for Iban, two days off little less than a month ago for Vanessa’s birthday party. Encouraging them to take a day off so soon after that seemed suspect.

“What are you playing at?” Yami asked.

“Nothing!” Jax assured, his tone and expression affirming the answer for the lie it was.

Seated to Yami’s left, Tobin nudged him with an elbow. “Don’t go questioning an offer of a day off.”

Yami’s hand curled into a fist. He didn’t want to hit his friend; but these days there was a constant underlying urge to hit something. And, playful or not, Tobin’s nudge nearly had him doing so.

He noticed the way Iban watched him, gold eyes shining. Yami’s hand twitched wanting to wipe the smug, knowing smirk off the Blood Mage’s face. Swallowing, Yami forced his hand open. It didn’t matter if expending a sizable amount of mana wouldn’t work long term. He just needed something to help right now.

“Jack’s been bugging me about going over to the Green Mantis base for a day of sparring.” Yami eyed Tobin. “You game?”

“For squashing that gangly bug? Do you even have to ask?” Tobin grinned.

“That means Teris and I can have a girls day.” Venice enthused.

“It’s been far too long since we’ve had one of those.” Teris said, excited by the thought.

Looking at Venice over the rim of his cup, Jax said. “I find it amusing you and Tobin think you’re getting tomorrow off.”

Abril laughed at Venice's expression.

“Abril will cover for me.” Venice volunteered the other girl.

Abril laughed all the louder.

Jax shook his head. “She can’t. I let her and Bran have tomorrow off a week ago.”

Venice's head snapped to Abril. “What are you two doing?”

“Going to Raque to see Ricte.” Abril answered.

Bran glanced nervously at Gendry. While Gendry frowned at Abril.

“What happened to Ricte worked and couldn’t have any ol’ day off?” Teris asked, protective of Abril.

“Oh! I wanna go to Raque! I haven’t been in so long.” Venice whined.

Thinking Teris wouldn’t have much of a day off without her friend. Never mind that he didn’t want her going out alone. Jax sighed and told Venice. “Fine. You and Tobin can have the day off.”

“I don’t care about Tobin. I just want to go to Raque with Teris.” Venice said.

“Hey.” Tobin complained.

Venice looked at Teris. “You good with spending the day at Raque?”

“A day at the beach sounds grand.” Teris smiled.

“Almost as grand as Gendry and I kicking Jack and Tobin’s ass’s.” Yami said, in attempt at cheering Gendry.

“Hey!” Tobin complained again.

Rolling his eyes, Jax submitted to Yami’s sly addition of Gendry getting a day off. “So long as Iban and Olsen stick around in case a mission order comes in and actual work needs to be done.”

100.4.3

Eyes still unfocused, Olsen quietly exited the house. He created a cloud of water vapor and took to the air, having a sudden explicable and overwhelming need to see Ellara.

Comments are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day. Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently commented or re-blogged. It really means a lot.

I’ve worried for a while that readers would have a hard time keeping everything with the Chaos plot straight given the long, slow draw of that plot and it seems a that worry has come to life. Below is a list of Alowishus’ past lives. If any of you would be interested in a list of chapter and scenes where the Chaos plot is prevalent please let me know, all it would take is a slight amendment to my personal fic notes.

Fin Spade – 1st life, son of Erin (who was Yurist's son) and Mira Spade; Fin was the one who stole the Future of Chaos out of labyrinth #297,353 only having it for a short time before Erin stole it back and "joined" it where it would be safe. Some years later Fin killed his father Erin at a placed known as the Dais.

Garo Belin – 2nd life, son of a middling merchant family; After starting to remember his past life as Fin and thinking he was going crazy, Garo went to the Dais (the place where the geyser labyrinth will eventually be, and currently is in fics timeline). There Garo found Erin Spade's skull and died doing the spell that put Erin’s soul in the skull.

?? – 3rd life; remembered 1st & 2nd lives when he was 10yrs. Collected Erin Spade’s skull that Garo spelled, and finally got some answers from Erin. Because of that he found a purpose that the other incarnations have worked toward and built upon. He's also the one who created what is now known as the Agents of Chaos; and is the one who was/is still called the "Master of Master's".

?? – 4th life

?? – 5th life

Everard Spade – 6th life; was Master of the Agents of Chaos; Captain Shadow killed him 3yrs before she was locked in the geyser labyrinth. Jax currently has his old journal thanks to Iban telling him where to look.

Alowishus Spade – 7th life, currently 380yrs; spent several adult years working on his own before rejoining the Agents of Chaos. Challenged and killed Alric (Iban's third great grandfather) for the right to be Master of the Agents of Chaos.

*Note: thanks to learning and using corpse magic, Alowishus is by FAR the longest lived of all his lives. His second longest life was his 1st incarnation Fin who lived 77yrs.

Next chapter snippet:

“We’ll sort that out later. For now surrender and come with me, and I will see no one gets harmed.”

“And who might you be?” Teris asked.

“Commander Fanzell.” Fanzell said.

It was then that Teris noticed the diamond on his grimoire.

#yami sukehiro #julius novachrono #Black Clover #light in the darkness

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stxphxn-strange · 4 years ago

Text

death doesn’t discriminate

a/n: so when i first started my college au, i came up w a lot of angst and tragedy that i forgot about when i introduced you to it. so here’s my solution: you’re getting angst now! tw for death in this fic, keep that in mind as you read. I’m super proud of this so i hope you read and lmk ur thoughts Tags: @stark-strange-love @ah3m @grumb-lin @ironstrange-chaos @maya-custodios-dionach

“You’re perfect, you know that? You’re the most precious thing in existence.”

His words were met with a content (read: blissed out), sleepy sigh.

“Hey, you good?” Stephen asked, softly ruffling Anthony’s already wildly messy hair.

“Great, but exhausted,” Anthony murmured, pressing his face into the pillow. “You know you tired me out, just let me sleep.”

Stephen smiled and kissed him softly. “Do you want to shower first? Maybe a snack? And then I promise you can rest.”

“And you’ll hold me all night?” Anthony asked, looking up and batting his eyelashes.

“Ugh, you’re impossible!” Stephen scoffed, overcome with love for his boyfriend. “Of course I will.”

All Stephen wanted to do was kiss Anthony senseless and hold him forever, but he couldn’t for a couple of reasons: tomorrow he was leaving on SI business, and someone was knocking on their bedroom door.

During Stephen’s unusually infinitesimal period of reflection Anthony fell asleep, unintentionally forcing Stephen to get out of bed. He tightened his robe as he answered the door, tiredness making his smile more forced than normal. “Rhodey, I’m not going to moderate another debate about almond milk between you and Harold.”

“Stop calling me Harold!” Harry yelled from somewhere down the hall.

Rhodey shook his head. “Oh no, we’re not getting into that again. I was just going to ask if Tones got the PDFs yet.”

“He’s asleep,” Stephen said, a blush creeping onto his face. “Although I need to wake him up again, I can ask or just tell him to text you.”

“That sounds good,” Rhodey replied, a knowing look in his eye. “Just remember: our business trip is only a week, and no wall in this apartment is 100% soundproof.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, Rhodey.”

He closed the door again, sitting on his bed beside Anthony, who appeared to be falling deeper into sleep.

Stephen sighed, gently shaking one of his shoulders to wake him up. Another restful night filled with banter and love was ahead of them, and Stephen wanted to make the most of it before Anthony left in the morning. Grumpy as he was when he finally woke up, Stephen could tell that Anthony wanted to make the most of the night as well.

++++

“It’s official: I hate goodbyes!” Stephen tried not to convey how upset he actually was.

He did hate goodbyes. He hated that Anthony was leaving for a week, though he never liked to admit how much he actually missed his boyfriend. Stephen would always nod whenever Wong complained that the house was quiet without Anthony, Rhodey, and Harry, but his face always fell when it struck him again that his boyfriend was away.

“Let me ask you something,” Wong began.

“Do I want to know?” Stephen replied, filling the kettle with water.

“I won’t beat around the bush,” Wong said. “Why haven’t either of you proposed yet?”

“Unlike the rest of you, we’re not in a rush,” Stephen quipped. “If I know Ant as well as I think I do, he’s waiting for what he thinks is the perfect moment. I’m doing the same.”

“That’s a load of bullshit,” Wong said.

Looking up from his phone, he continued: “You know, we thought you were going to propose before graduation! I’m already out $300 because of all of the bets I lost to our friends.”

“I don’t think I want to know this either, but who did you bet with?” Stephen asked.

“Carol, Rhodey, all of the Odinson siblings, and Christine,” Wong replied.

“And you all know why I didn’t do it then, yes? As in you didn’t bet $50 with six (6) different people after winter break?” Stephen asked. “Anthony and I talked about it and it just felt too soon after his mother and Howard died.”

“No, I didn’t,” Wong said. “That makes sense, though. We really aren’t trying to rush you.”

“I know you don’t mean it seriously, what in our friend group isn’t dealt with through absurd amounts of teasing?” Stephen asked, rolling his eyes. “But you know what? I think when they come back from the trip might be a good time.”

“Fucking FINALLY!” Wong replied, leaping into the air. “Let’s call Christine right now!”

++++

A few days later, Wong woke up to the sound of one of his housemates frantically opening and closing the kitchen cabinets. He was about to text the housemates’ chat, before he remembered that Stephen was the only other one that was home, the others wouldn’t be back for another three (3) days.

So that left a singular question: why was Stephen, somehow the quietest of the group, slamming cupboard doors?

Wong found his bunny slippers and shuffled down the hallway, locking eyes with a distressed Stephen. “What are you doing?”

“I’m rearranging the kitchen.”

“Why?”

“How many reasons do you want? I don’t know what to do with myself, I’m stressed, and it’s too early to call Anthony although I doubt he’s asleep as it is since he rarely sleeps while traveling, but—”

“You can’t be this nervous to propose, can you?” Wong asked, his tone ignorant and teasing but without malice. “He won’t be back until the end of the week, so you have time to plan and replan everything until you’re happy.”

“I was going to propose when he got back, I was going to ask you to help me plan something nice as a welcome for him and Rhodey and Harry, but... shit I have to go home,” Stephen said. “To my parents’ farm, I mean.”

“Why? Everything okay?” Wong asked.

Stephen ran a hand through his bedhead. He knew he was shaking but didn’t have the energy to care. “My mom isn’t doing well at all. I... Victor needs me.”

“When do you leave?”

“Later this evening. I just need to call Anthony, both to hear his voice and to keep him updated.”

“He’s calling you now,” Wong said, glancing at where Stephen’s phone was vibrating towards the edge of the counter.

He began to make something for breakfast as Stephen picked up the phone.

“You know I love you, but why are you calling so early?” Stephen asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Anthony, sleep deprived and stressed as he was, knew him too well and could immediately tell that something was up. His voice was rough when he spoke, “something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean? Are you okay?” Stephen fretted.

“I’m fine, I meant something’s bothering you. I can hear it in your voice,” Anthony clarified. He sounded like a warm hug that Stephen just wanted to hide in until the end of time, his tone gentle as he asked what was going on.

“I’m just upset, that’s all,” Stephen replied. “Um... Victor called me about an hour ago. He says Mom isn’t... doing too well and he really wants me to go to the farm, at least for his sake. So I’m leaving tonight, just to spend some time there while I can. Apparently a lot of the family is flying out... Vic didn’t go into detail but he said it’s bad.”

Anthony hummed, and Stephen could hear rustling on his end of the line.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m looking for my laptop so I can book a flight,” Anthony said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“No way, I can’t ask you to—”

“Stephen? My darling, my sweet baby boyfriend who can be more obtuse than a triangle?” Anthony interrupted.

Stephen scoffed. “You’re one to talk.”

“My mind is made up,” Anthony said. “I’m sure someone can cover for me, this is a family emergency after all.”

“You...” Stephen’s voice broke. “Anthony...”

Anthony hushed him quietly. “I want to be there for you, and for your family, and I promise you I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Fucking hell,” Stephen whispered, trying to keep himself from sobbing. “Thank you.”

“I just want to support you, Steph,” Anthony replied. “I’m going to have to go wake Pepper up, she should be getting up soon. I just want to brief her before the day starts, but I’ll be free for a bit after I find her if you want to call me back.”

“I might FaceTime you,” Stephen said. “You haven’t even been gone that long and I still miss you like you wouldn’t believe.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Anthony murmured. “I love you.”

“I love you too, tell Pepper I said hi,” Stephen replied.

He put his phone down when the call ended, sighing and running his fingers through his hair.

“Do you want french toast?” Wong asked quietly.

Stephen jumped, forgetting his friend was even in the kitchen. “Yes please. And then I have to go and pack some stuff.”

++++

“Hey guys, I need you to cover for me. I have a flight to Nebraska at 4, it’s a family emergency, Stephen’s mother...”

“Tones what are you still doing here? You need to get there. I’ll help you pack,” Rhodey said.

“I’ll drive. Be ready to leave in no later than two (2) hours,” Harry added. “

Pepper smiled sadly. “You know we’re going to cover your ass no matter what, especially if it has something to do with Stephen. By the way, w—”

“Now is hardly the time to discuss a proposal, Miss Potts!”

++++

“You know, I always liked Anthony better than you,” Victor said. “I think Donna did too, God rest her soul.”

“Alright Vic, enough,” Stephen replied. “I only came home for you, don’t chase me away. Besides, Donna liked me better than you, and that’s all that really matters.”

“I’m telling Dad you said that,” Victor spat, his light tone betraying his words. “You know I’m happy you’re home. And I’m glad you have Anthony.”

“He’s loyal, you know? I tried to tell him not to come, but he insisted. And he was in California for business,” Stephen said, smiling at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You’re going to do something embarrassing once you see him, aren’t you?” Victor scoffed.

“No, I’m just going to hug him,” Stephen replied. “Fuck off Vic, it’s none of your business how I show affection.”

All things considered Stephen didn’t break his word, because he did hug Anthony as soon as they made eye contact. Nobody had to know if there were tears in his eyes when he rested his head on Anthony’s shoulder and held him as if they’d been apart for years.

Victor, impatiently standing a short distance from the couple, cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to rush this reunion, but we should get home now.”

“Since when do you drive?” Anthony teased, giving Victor a short hug. “The last time I saw you—”

“Don’t you dare say I was ‘just a baby!’ I’ve heard that from all of my relatives these past two (2) days,” Victor replied. “And let me address that now: I’m driving so I control the music.”

Victor’s taste in music wasn’t bad, so neither Stephen nor Anthony objected. Plus, they were both exhausted from traveling and the fact that they didn’t sleep very well apart. It was no surprise that Anthony fell asleep on the drive from the airport to the family farm. Stephen thought back to the other day, to the way Anthony soared under his praises and how he fluttered his eyelashes at the end of the night, just before falling asleep. He was trying to be coquettish, but fell asleep before they could trade anymore banter. Stephen had to fight to keep from laughing (it was more like giggling) at how adorable Anthony was.

Tonight, as the moonlight through the car window highlighted his closed eyes and slightly parted lips, Stephen just wanted to cry. It wasn’t a sad kind of cry, it was perhaps relieved. Things would always be okay with Anthony around, and that realization never failed to bring Stephen to tears.

++++

It was the best sleep he’d had in three (3) days, and it came to a sharp end as urgent knocking cut through his dream.

Anthony slipped out of bed, pulling the blankets up around Stephen. No matter how cold he got in the middle of the night, he always kicked the comforter away.

His fond smile at the thought of Stephen’s idiosyncrasies died when he saw the stricken look on Victor’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Anthony asked, immediately placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He’d always seen Victor and Donna as the siblings he never had, and it was very important to Anthony that all of the Strange siblings knew he cared for them. Stephen obviously did, although reminding him never hurt, but the familial bond Anthony had with his siblings was valuable to all parties involved. Understandably, the idea of Victor being this upset troubled him.

“Is Stephen up?” Victor asked. His voice was almost shrill, marching the chaotic background noise from elsewhere in the farmhouse.

Anthony shook his head. “Do I need to wake him up?”

Victor nodded. “And hurry up, we have to go downtown now. Meet me in the kitchen as soon as you can.”

++++

The rest of the Strange family descended upon both the farm and the town after Bev Strange passed. The next few days consisted of funeral arrangements, people running errands, speedrunning the stages of grief, and little to no sleep. There were two (2) points during that week where everything came to a screeching halt, and everyone was just taking on tragedy like a sponge soaks water. The night before Mrs. Strange’s funeral was one of them.

Eugene Strange jogged down the stairs that night, an envelope in one hand and his other clutching his chest.

“Dad you okay?” Stephen asked.

“Completely fine, I’m just running something to your aunt and then I’ll settle in for the night,” Eugene replied.

“Do you want me to take it?” Victor offered. “You don’t look well, you should rest.”

“No, son, I’m okay. A little drive to town can’t hurt,” Eugene said, waving his hand in dismissal of Victor’s offer.

A little drive to town couldn’t hurt on its own, but coupled with a heart attack it was fatal to Eugene.

Stephen was livid when he found out, mostly angry with himself for not going and running the errand. “Why did I let him go?”

Victor was also livid, his anger directed at Stephen for most of the week. “Yeah, why did you?! How can you say you care about our family when you took Donna to the lake that day, AND you let Dad go when he was in no condition to drive? I’m lucky you even came around for me and for Mom, everyone knows all you care about is yourself!”

As the Strange family planned their second funeral of the week, Victor and Stephen didn’t talk much. Victor wasn’t right to be angry with Stephen, which he did eventually realize. Victor was even the one who advocated for Stephen going home and taking care of himself for a few days.

“He’s right, you do deserve to be cared for. Especially now,” Anthony murmured, tracing Stephen’s collarbones. “You’re so strong and selfless, I just want to give you the world, if you’ll let me.”

“You’re too good to me,” Stephen murmured. “Ant, do you know I love you so much it hurts? The fact that we’ve been in each other’s lives for so long and have come so far means so much, and there’s no one else I’d rather go through all of this shit with. You... you’re just everything. I love the way you drown me in praise but catch me when I fall... and—”

“If anyone gets drowned in praises, it’s me from you,” Anthony whispered, as Stephen broke off with a sob. “You’re the one always catching me and keeping me grounded. But that’s what our relationship has always been, you know? I never would have gotten through the things that happened in the past few years without you, and there won’t ever be a moment you won’t have my equal support. I think you’ve been stuck with me since we met and talked about... remind me, with your picture perfect memory, what it was?”

Stephen didn’t reply, only shifting a bit closer to Anthony.

“Steph?” Anthony asked quietly, brushing a soothing hand through his hair.

Stephen snored softly. It wasn’t really a snore, as Stephen didn’t snore, more or less a soft exhale that ghosted over Anthony’s collarbone. Either way, he was asleep.

Anthony smiled sadly and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight Stephen. Get some rest, I promise I’ll always be here.”

++++

“If you need anything, do you swear that you’ll call or text or just fly to New York to see me?” Stephen asked again.

“Stephen, I promise I’m going to be okay,” Victor assured him. “And I will.”

“You don’t need anything else while we’re here?” Stephen asked.

“No, I’m fine!” Victor said, feigning annoyance. “Just go home, and Anthony take care of my hardheaded brother, please.”

“I always do,” Anthony replied, giving Stephen a soft kiss.

“Get your PDA out of my face,” Victor teased. “Have a safe flight. Text me when you’re home.”

“You do the same,” Stephen said firmly.

The events of the past week took their toll on the brothers, and Stephen’s usual fearlessness disappeared. The smallest things rattled him, a routine lurch of the plane almost sending him into a panic attack.

“If we survive this flight, will you marry me?” Stephen asked at the crux of takeoff.

Anthony smiled and hugged him, murmuring, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I swear I had this whole gesture planned but I don’t want to live another second without asking. A part of me needs this trip to have something of a happy ending, and I was really going to wait until we were home, but I waited long enough to be your boyfriend, I don’t want to wait to be your fiancé,” Stephen rambled.

“I have my own romantic gesture planned too.” Anthony’s voice was low and gravelly from tiredness, and his voice combined with his closeness sent shivers down Stephen’s spine. “You’ll love it, I’ll show you when we’re home.”

“I can’t wait.”

++++

Wong‘s friendly, grumpy face was a nice surprise waiting for them at the airport. “Harry and Rhodey are home, sleeping I think but you never know with them. I figured you’d both be tired, so I’d just come get you and let you sleep on the drive home.”

“You might be a Saint,” Anthony replied, leaning fully against Stephen.

“I’m just a good friend, one who accepts payment in the form of bread,” Wong teased. “Let’s go home.”

Harry was the only one in the kitchen when they got back, Rhodey on the phone w T’challa in his room. He greeted them with a warm: “Hey guys, you okay? I made sandwiches if you’re hungry.”

“My friend, I’m going to take you up on that,” Wong replied, pulling up a stool.

“I’m exhausted, and Ant is too, so we’re going to bed. Text if you need anything, but we’re going to just go pass out,” Stephen said. He didn’t bother waiting for a response, taking Anthony’s hand and leading him to their bedroom.

It was right before they climbed into bed that he got down on his left knee, taking hold of Anthony’s hands.

“There’s no limit to the things I want to say to you, and we both know that I’m never usually short on words but I just need to get my point across now. I might combust if I wait any longer,” Stephen began.

“Ask me,” Anthony murmured breathlessly. “I won’t interrupt again, just go ahead a—”

Stephen frowned as someone, it sounded like Harry, shouted from the kitchen.

The knocking, uncoordinated and loud, only intensified the longer Stephen and Anthony ignored it.

“What?!” Stephen called.

“We need a moderator for another debate about food!” Harry yelled.

“I’m in the middle of proposing!”

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #my ironstrange college au #tw death #wong #happy hogan #james rhodey rhodes #rhodey x t’challa #pepper potts #protective pepper potts #tony and stephen have praise kinks #they love each other a lot #tumblr ate my first draft :(#the strange family #victor strange #donna strange #beverly strange #eugene strange

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