#wash mentally asking himself “should i say something?” while asking york or loud if he really thinks he's the 2nd worst fighter

[tvckerwash]

that scene in s10 where york calls wash the worst fighter and gets instant karma for it via getting punched by the sleeveless innie is easily 100 times funnier by imagining that wash (as the petty grudge holder he is) knew the sleeveless innie was there, but he chose to not say anything about it to york

[petersshirts]

Too Long | bucky barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: you and Bucky have grown close over the last year, but when he disappears, you really start to worry

warnings: none, pure fluff!

words: 1,9 k

A/N: um, I’m back?? tfatws inspired me for this, and I hope you like it! it’s been some time since I wrote something, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!!

6:00 a.m.

the loud ringing from your alarm woke you and you slowly blinked, trying to figure out where you were and what was going on. after a few seconds, the realisation hit you that it was a normal work day and it was time to get ready for work. you groaned and slowly stood up to make your way to the bathroom.

it was still dark outside but you could hear the sirens on the street - new york city never slept. just like you for the last week. in the kitchen, you made yourself a big cup of coffee to survive the day. for the last few days, nightmares hunted you. and you knew exactly why.

for the next thirty minutes, you quietly got yourself ready and finally walked out of the door of your apartment, trying to ignore the door that you passed on your way downstairs. but the pain in your heart and the name in your head couldn’t just make you forget.

Bucky.

your neighbour, who was just a stranger when he arrived a year ago. but over time, you got to know the quiet man who sent you smiles that made your stomach churn. whenever he laughed, it felt like you just won an Oscar. his laugh felt like music to your ears and made you happy because you had made him happy.

you had never really thought about more than a casual friendship between bucky and you when he had suddenly disappeared a week ago, everything changed. you were worried sick because you knew his history as the winter soldier, and even though he had assured you many times that he was fine and he wouldn’t fall back into his old pattern, you still worried. not really because you were worried for the people around you, but because of him.

you knew that bucky hated to talk about his time as the winter soldier and the way he found his way out. to talk about steve. you had never met captain america but when he disappeared to find another, happier life, bucky was broken. he couldn’t understand why his best friend had left him behind, all alone to himself. at this point, bucky had been mentally stable due to his time in Wakanda, but it still gave him nightmares every night.

and you were the one to stop them. whenever he had a nightmare, he came to your apartment with the key you gave him for emergencies. he slipped right next to you in bed, enjoying your presence more than he would admit. on your part, you were just happy that he trusted you that much to show his vulnerability.

but there was never more than that. and you actually never thought that there was more than that, until he was gone. last tuesday, you knocked on his door for your weekly movie night, but there was no answer. you started to panic, because it was very rare that bucky was not home. maybe he went out, but since he didn’t have any friends other than the old guy he had met on the street, you doubted that.

you called him twenty times, but there was no answer. the panic was rising in your chest, your mind already imaging every single way he could have been hurt or compromised. you got the spare key from your apartment, but when you entered his place, there was no bucky. everything looked just like it always did, a few clothes on the chairs and sofa, but nothing out of the ordinary. there was nobody you could go to to ask for help. so you just went back home, hoping that he would just knock on your door with a smile on his face, saying sorry that he’s late because he went to the supermarket to get some snacks for movie night.

but he didn’t come. every day, you knocked on his door, called him but no answer. it was slowly driving you nuts and you were missing him like crazy. and by crazy you mean not just like a friend. you realised the change quite quickly because the longing in your chest was nothing you had ever felt before. it felt like you were missing a part of yourself and everywhere you looked, you saw him.

bucky was everywhere. in your ruffled up sheets, the musky scent still clinging to your pillow because you refused to wash them and get rid of his smell completely. his sunglasses on your table or the extra blanket you had bought for him for the sofa so he wouldn’t be cold. he had only chuckled at that and pressed a small kiss on your forehead, mumbling a small thank you.

now, a week later, you felt completely hopeless. you didn’t know why he at least called you, this wasn’t a good sign at all. you cared for bucks so much, it frightened you. never before had you had this feeling with a boyfriend for two years, never had you felt so desperate to have him back in your arms.

on your way to your office, you tried to ignore all the horrible thoughts in your head, but it was quite impossible. bucky was everything to you. there. you admitted it. I am in love with bucky barnes.

and you could never tell him. you could never say to him that he was so special to you, that you wanted him in your apartment full time, you wanted to get him your own towels and a workspace. tears started rolling down your cheeks, a sharp pain filling your heart. you had no idea how you should handle this situation.

for the whole day at work, you tried to smile and talk to your co-workers, trying to ignore the horrible feeling in your heart, it felt like bucky himself had stabbed you. when it was finally 4 pm and time to go home, you wandered through the streets, trying to take as much time to go home as possible. because there was nobody waiting for you anymore. you bought yourself some food at your favourite deli and finally opened the door to your apartment complex, your eyes fixed on the floor.

you completely ignored the door you had knocked on so many times and made your way to your place, fumbling with your keys but before you could open the for yourself, it was opened from the inside. you looked into two familiar blue eyes and your heart stopped for a second. you just stared at bucky, not knowing to react.

„you - you’re alive!“ and in the next moment, you fell into his arms pulling him close to make sure that this was not a dream. that he was really here. bucky just chuckled and stroked your hair, smelling the familiar scent of coconut that had slowly but surely become his home. suddenly you pulled away, and checked his face for any injuries but exhaled after a short time because you didn’t see any injuries.

„where have you been? I was worried sick!“ you closed the apartment door behind you, trying to fight the urge to just take one more step and press his lips to yours. bucky stared at the ground, trying to find a good explanation for his sudden disappearance. everything just went so fast when sam called him with the super-soldier serum, he completely forgot about leaving you a message or even call you. but the 104-year-old man forgot his phone at his apartment and since he didn’t remember your phone number, there was just no way to call you. even if that was the only thing he wanted to do. to hear your voice, telling him everything was okay. that he would come home, come back to you.

„I’m so sorry love, but Sam called me to help him with a mission last week. I left in a hurry and left my phone at home. we went to Europe so there was no way to reach you.“ Bucky looked at you, hoping that you would forgive him. he knew he was an idiot to just leave unexpected, but he had also thought that you were just friends. but for the last week, the way he had thought about you changed. he didn’t want to be just friends.

you just grumbled something and walked past him, trying to sort out your thoughts. you were really happy that he was back and safe but also didn’t know how to act around him anymore. it felt like there was some tension in the room that never been here before.

bucky watched while you paced through the living room, a worried look on his face. he just wanted to hold you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and enjoy your presence. he never wanted to leave your side again, to protect you from all the bad things in this world.

„what’s going on?“ bucky’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts and you looked up, bucky still a few meters away from you. you just sighed. there was no way you could tell him how you felt. he would never feel the same way and just look at you weirdly. you were just friends.

„it’s nothing.“ you mumbled, but bucky knew that it was not just nothing. he stepped forward, now only a few centimetres in front of your face. you sucked in your breath because he had never been that close to you. his blue eyes were watching you, trying to understand your body language. your eyes wandered to his lips and you quickly averted them back to his eyes, but bucky had seen it. a small smile wandered on his lips and he slowly put his hand on your waist, pulling you even closer.

your eyes went wide but before you could say anything, his lips landed on yours. in shock, you opened your mouth and bucks lips entered your mouth, his eyes closed in pleasure.

this is happening. this is really happening.

you closed your eyes in pleasure, a little moan escaping your mouth. bucks heart jumped at that sound, knowing that he had done something right. that he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. after a few minutes of kissing, he slowly pulled away, a glint in his eyes. you could only smile at him and kissed his chin, a small giggle escaping your lips.

„if you haven’t noticed, I’m crazy about you.“ bucky mumbled, his fingers wandering over your mouth, your nose, your brows. he watched you with fascination and the butterflies erupted in your stomach, a warm feeling settling in your gut. you kissed his fingers lovingly, your eyes shining just as much as his.

„and if you haven’t noticed, I’m in love with you.“ at these words, bucky couldn’t stop smiling at you. this was real. you liked him back. no, you loved him back, this broken man with all his flaws.

„Really?“ his voice was only a whisper now, his eyes searching for the truth in your own. you just grinned even more and nodded. „yes, you dork. but don’t you run away like that again, you scared me so much!“

„Never again.“

Bucky engulfed you in a hug and you just stood there together, enjoying each others presence, the both of you not believing their own luck.

It had been too long since there had been that much love in your lives. And it would never change, just get bigger and better over time.

Feedback is appreciated!!

Taglist:

@ive-got-more-wit // @lou-la-lou // @loxbbg // @seanna313 // @underoos-shield // @supernatural-strangerthings-1980@ixchel-9275 // @thejourneyneverendsx // @sideeffectsofyou // @teenwolfbitches2 // @mywinterwolf // @alex—awesome—22 // @wronglanemendes // @tomshufflepuff // @awkwardfangirl2014 // @embrace-themagic // @ophcelia // @xxtomxo // @undiadeestos // @peterpumpkinparker // @twilightparker // @h-osterfield // @suncityparker // @holland-peters // @fratboievans // @spiderrrling // @revengingbarnes // @hollandroos // @naturallytom // @tomhollandd // @parkerpeterparker2004

[sleeplessincairo]

[ dating bucky barnes would include: ]

warnings: a somewhat vague sexual outline and a few cusses

///

Him walking around with a notebook everywhere. Bucky got the idea from Steve when he saw him writing new things to his modern day to-do-list, so Bucky decided to do the same except fill his notebook up with his old memories instead; anything he could remember from his life before being The Winter Soldier. At first, there were only a few pages filled but as his life starting to include domestic and mundane-as well as a healthy environment-activities, he started having spontaneous and soon-to-be-frequent flashbacks that, later on, contributed to dozens of notebooks filled with not The Winter Soldier, not Prisoner #56898, not White-Wolf, but James Buchanan Barnes.

You never mentioned the notebook to Bucky nor asked to read it-Bucky was a private person, and you understood and respected that-but you still started carrying a pen with you, just in case he ever needed one.

At first, the notebook(s) was/were filled with solely memories of his past-No matter how insignificant. Whether it was that time the toilet got clogged in his shabby little apartment and had to stay with Steve and Sarah Rogers for a week because he couldn't afford a plumber or that time he lost his shoe in bar brawl and some swanky chrome-dome gave him a few bucks to buy some shoes and a sock without a hole in it. He wrote everything his mind could clearly grasp. But as the two of you got closer, he started filling it with memories he had with/of you because-even if he would never admit it-you made him feel right at home.

You may or may not have stolen his dog tags from the Smithsonian museum just as a reminder that even after all the pain, despair, manipulation, and torture he still managed to be the good person he was all those years ago. He was still James Barnes, local heartthrob that volunteered at the soup kitchen during his free time, that fought a war and lost an arm during the process, that dreamt of flying cars and a future without all fights and wars, that had a soft spot for a certain trouble-attracting boy whose heart was too big for his body.

“Jesus doll, I didn’t know I was dating a thief.” “Oh James, I thought you’d already realized that when I stole your heart from right under your nose.”

Bucky’s not big on talking or directly verbally professing his love, but that’s okay; His eyes tell you everything. There was always something about Bucky’s eyes that were so mesmerizing, so captivating, you could instantly tell how he was feeling. Before you, his eyes resembled a pale arctic blue that were as cold as glaciers-His eyes were hollowed and empty, scratched raw from any emotion but your growing presence thawed them out, they warmed through the cold exterior of what was once The Winter Soldier and reminded you that the hottest fires burn blue.

He does, however, reference quite a few interesting slang choices from the 40′s, which is his own little way of demonstrating verbal affection, ranging from calling you ‘Doll’ & ‘Sweetheart’ to calling you ‘The Cat’s Meow’ & ‘Butter and Egg Fly’

He’s never been very invested in hygiene. It never really was something important for him since he was in the Army and BO was a pretty normal thing, and then he became The Winter Soldier and HYDRA never exactly gave him a bathtub-Not that he was in the right mindset to to care about it anyway-So you usually have to remind him to shower everyday-Not that you mind, it would usually end with the both of you showering together and you having the opportunity to wash his hair yourself.

Soon enough, Bucky gets real invested in hygiene, he starts reading about self-care routines, exfoliating, conditioning, and gets completely hooked. Secretly, he does it because he likes the routine, something mundane and fixed to do to keep him busy.

You’re the only one that gets to call him James. Something about the way you say it warms his heart, he’d focus completely on the way your mouth moves as you say it-It reminded him of the way his mother would say his full name before busting his chops about coming home all dirty but then later ruffling his thick hair and offering a plate of strawberry jam sandwhiches, or how the word was always lurking in the dark corners of his mind like the silhouette of a ghost he couldn’t seem to recognize until you brought it to life.

Him always reaching out for your hand when he feels out-of-place, outside, or honestly just all the time because it helps him feel secure and grounded.

Steve third wheeling the both of you all the time. No seriously, literally all the time. He spends more time in the apartment you and Bucky share more than his own to the point where you and Bucky wonder if he actually has one. 

Steve has a key to your place-Even though, the both of you never gave him a key in the first place-and has a habit of interrupting the both of you or walking in on the worst possible moments.

“Hey guys, what are ya doi-Oh...Sorry I didn't know-Buck, you don't need to throw-Jesus, okay, okay I’m going.”

“Who the hell does it look like I’m doing, Steve.”

Bucky being very insecure about his arm, he even refuses to touch you with that arm-Subconsciously, he’s afraid he’ll accidentally hurt you. At first, he only ever wears long-sleeved shirts and a glove even on the hottest days as if he’d somehow forget that there was a metallic limb under all the cotton, but slowly like molasses he starts accepting it. He starts wearing open finger gloves, then discarding the gloves, then wearing 3-quarter sleeves, then short-sleeved shirts, then sleeveless shirts, then finally feeling comfortable enough to take off his shirt in front of you which leads to a night filled with discarded clothing, the sounds of soft murmurs and reassurances, the rolling of each other’s names off each other tongues like a prayer, and the rustling of the blanket against the delicate movement of your intertwined bodies skin-on-skin, skin-on-metal as the both of you unravel thread by thread in each other’s arms.

Truth is, you love his metal arm, you love the way it’s cool against your warm cheek on hot summer nights, you love the splashes of light that kiss it every morning making it sparkle, you love the soft and soothing whirring noises it lets out breaking the silence in your room, you love it because it’s a part of him and God knows how much you love everything about this man.

Despite being the assassin that killed JFK, managed to get away with it, and mind boggle conspiracists for decades he’s a bit clumsy. He has a habit of accidentally breaking things and later on, not telling you about it.

"James Buchanan Barnes, I thought I developed super strength-and even asked Stark to do some tests on me, but apparently you just happened to forget to mention and explain why the fuck doors are falling off their hinges!"

Losing sleep with Bucky. He tends to have very frequent and graphic nightmares which leads to various panic attacks and the inability to sleep, and you're more than happy to stay up with him and comfort him. Sometimes you’d talk while he listened and watched the way your lips moved or the way the pony tail you had gone to bed with loosened and hundreds of strands escaped the grasp of the hair band or the way a yawn would escape your lips and your hand would momentarily rise to cover your mouth but get lazy halfway, other times you’d lay in each other’s arms in complete silence while you traced patterns on his chest and trail kisses across his skin.

You being his anchor. You holding him tightly and assuring him that he’s okay, that you're here, that you're real, that he’s out, that he’s safe, and many other tender 3-worded sentences uttered over and over again like a mantra until he’s murmuring them back into your chest. 

Sometimes, when he has really bad nightmares and panic attacks you grab his notebook and start reading the memories out loud while you lay his head on your lap and run your hand through his hair in a calming manner until he calms down. It soon becomes a regular thing where you read him a memory before he goes to bed like a bedtime story.

Bucky Barnes is a man who was tortured and tormented for years, a man whose life was ripped right from his very arms along with his very own arm, a man who has gone through a long and unforgettable journey where he has learned to cope, grow, accept, and embrace himself and now he’s made it his mission to encourage and help others to do the same, whether they're struggling with their sexuality, amputation, mental illness, gender, or general self-acceptance.

You educated him about women’s rights because things are a lot different then in the 1940s; women are no longer obligated to get married, cater to a man’s every whim, have children, and other traditional gender roles. At first, Bucky’s very confused and doesn't understand why feminism is so important-I mean, lets face it, Bucky was raised in a traditional society and was later on manipulated to being a bloodthirsty assassin and now suddenly, he can think on his own and his life has turned completely upside down from thinking his own thoughts without HYDRA around to thinking past social constructs and norms so its normal for him to be a bit weary. However, you're there to explain thoroughly about how unjust society still is and how women may have won a few battles but still have a war to fight in a society where they are hyper-sexualized, mistreated, and controlled, and Bucky immediately thinks of Peggy Carter and how the men used to catcall her, how they raked her body with inappropriate stares, how she was ignored and seen as a pretty face, and then he finally understands. 

Dozens of articles about mysterious beatings of assaulters around New York.

His metal arm is decorated with dozens of pins, magnets, and stickers of all the movements he supports. Oh man, you should see him during Women’s marches and Pride fairs, considering all the black he usually wears seeing him dressed in bright colors or a pink shirt that says ‘On Wednesdays, we destroy the patriarchy’. It’s a sight that truly belongs in the history books.

Bucky breaking hold of the toxic masculinity he was subjected to in the 1940s and advocating for men to be able to display their God-given emotions freely, to not feel obligated to put on a tough guy front, to telling boys its okay to cry, to feel, to act, to wear, and to be whomever they please to be. 

Bucky visiting youth centers and giving advice and support to the kids there. Every kid he meets reminds him of Steve, whether its in their stubbornness, taste for trouble, lostness, or the glimmer of potential he sees in every single one of them. He remembers every single name of the teenager he meets and later on, uses them as a mantra whenever he’s undergoing a panic or anxiety attack as well as use SHIELD’s equipment to check up on them every once in a while.

Bucky going to children’s hospitals every week to cheer up the little kids there. He ends up being quite the inspiration and their ‘Favorite Superhero’ for the kids with amputations there and they end up being one of the very few people who are allowed to touch his metal arm. Something about the way their eyes shine with hope and their hands melt at the feeling of the metal warms his heart and his insecurities.

[sandalwoodhusbands]

watching cityscapes turn to dust

"Why don't you say my name anymore?"

"I do. Not often, but I do."

"But why?"

"Because i'm afraid that once I start saying it, I will never stop."

There's silence. And then-

"Would that be so bad?"

part III - USA

USA (America), Winter 2019

From: Eliott

Do you think it’s cold in New York in January?

To: Eliott

i really hope you’re kidding

eliott for the love of god you better pack up hoodies because i’m not sharing

From: Eliott

Liar.

Can’t wait to spend three months with you

To: Eliott

annoying me* you mean

...but me neither <3

From: Eliott

Happy tour kickoff! 

<3

***

 San Diego is where it starts.

Well, no. That’s a lie. It’s actually Los Angeles. 

LA is where the bus is waiting for them at the airport. LA is where a small crowd of fans gather around the exit to welcome them, and there’s not many of them, so they indulge for a few minutes. LA is posing for pictures, and LA is warmth, and Eliott squinting at him before taking off his thick cotton hoodie.

In LA Eliott throws the hoodie at Lucas jokingly, and Lucas, you told me to pack up for the cold!, and Lucas’ face flushes red when everyone else watches the exchange with googly eyes. 

If Lucas thinks really hard about it, though, he’d tell you it started in neither of those places, but rather almost a year ago, in a shitty Paris rehearsing room with shitty lighting and a shitty sound, and Eliott’s smile reflected in the eyes of everyone in that room. 

So technically, San Diego is only the beginning of something Lucas can’t quite put into words.

“Have you seen Eliott?” 

Lucas frowns, taking off one of his earbuds hesitantly. “No? Should I have?”

“Considering it’s 30 minutes until showtime, I’d say yes, probably.” Arthur answers in a deadpan voice.

“Well, still no.” Lucas shrugs, tucking his drumsticks into the back pocket of his jeans. He cranes his neck in search for a mop of wild hair amongst the crowd of people backstage, but comes blank. Weird. “Have you tried asking the rest of the guys?”

Arthur gives him a funny look. “Why would I? The dude only hangs out around you like an overexcited puppy. It’s cute, really.”

“That’s not-”

Yann uses that moment to pop his head from behind a door. His hand grips the threshold tightly, the look on his face daunting enough to make concern grow in Lucas’ stomach. 

“Guys, we have a little problem back here.” Yann cuts in, looking anxiously between the two of them. “It’s Eliott.”

Lucas runs so fast he doesn’t register the drumsticks falling from his pocket.

Eliott is sitting at the far end of the room with his head between his legs when Lucas reaches him, but other than that, he looks fine. All in one piece. Lucas lingers at the door for a second in an attempt to catch his breath, his chest heaving up and down from something that has little to do with the sprint he just ran. 

He approaches Eliott carefully, his heart in his hands and the sound of quiet steps filling the room, joining the ragged breaths coming from the boy in front of him. 

“Eliott?” He asks quietly, crouching down to Eliott’s level. 

Eliott’s head shoots up at his voice. His eyes are blank before they fall on Lucas, a grey so dull that reminds Lucas of their kitchen in Italy, and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from bringing his hands up to cup Eliott’s face. Once he registers Lucas in front of him his eyes get a different glint, nothing like what Lucas’ used to, but less suffocating than the stormy grey from before, so Lucas counts it as a win.

His mouth curls into a wobbly smile that Lucas eagerly reciprocates.

“Hey.” Eliott wheezes. His smile turns sheepish, a dust of pink washing over his skin high on his cheekbones. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Lucas breathes when he catches sight of Eliott’s hands clasped tightly between his thighs. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m just- having some trouble breathing.” Eliott mutters, tapping his feet restlessly against the marble floor. 

Lucas curses under his breath. He hasn’t done this in fucking forever, he knows, and the knowledge scratches at the back of his brain uncomfortably. His veins burn with adrenaline, a flare of protectiveness for Eliott guiding his every move, and he can only hope that his devotion for him is enough to make this work.

He lowers himself until his knees hit the floor, swallowing back a gasp when he feels the cold through the rips of his jeans. His hands are clammy with sweat, and he wipes them on his thighs before placing a tentative hand on Eliott’s forearm. 

“Can I?” He asks. Eliott nods.  

Lucas exhales through his mouth, a loud breath that tones down the buzzing in his ears. Slowly, he extricates Eliott’s hand from between his legs. 

He runs the pads of his fingers down Eliott’s forearm, brushing over his wrist, wrapping his hand around Eliott’s. His thumb digs into Eliott’s palm, fingers falling in the slots between Eliott’s as he guides their hands to his collarbones.

“Close your eyes.” Lucas whispers when Eliott’s palm rests over his clavicle, fingers brushing his neck. “And count my heartbeat out loud.”

Eliott’s fingers twitch at the sides. “Fuck, Lu, but it’s going really fucking fast.” He whispers back. There’s some humor in his voice despite the shakiness, and it makes the ends of Lucas' mouth curl up. “I don’t know if I can keep up.”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Lucas murmurs, pressing Eliott’s hand against his chest decisively. “Just trust me.”

“I trust you.”

Lucas can feel Eliott relaxing in the way the tension lifts off his arm after a while. In the way his hand rests more comfortably against his chest, more by choice, and less because Lucas put it there. He feels it when the the lightness comes back to Eliott’s voice, around the number 27, and by then they’re looking at each other with wide eyes.

There you go, Lucas murmurs, and Eliott smiles shakily. You’re doing so well, and Eliott’s other hand comes to join the one on Lucas chest, his thumb brushing behind Lucas’ ear.

You’re my best friend, Eliott says, rubbing circles on Lucas’ skin, and Lucas wills his heart to not give anything away. He thinks it does, anyway, with the small smile that curls up in Eliott’s face a second later. He’ll worry later.

“Better?” Lucas asks an eternity later, when the color returns to Eliott’s face and it doesn’t feel like he’s gonna make it worse by opening his mouth.

Eliott nods. “I don’t really do well with new situations.” He grimaces. “As you’ve witnessed. So has half of our crew.”

“Stop worrying about everyone else.” Lucas says. “First time jitters are normal.”

“Very kind of you to refer to a mental breakdown as ‘jitters’, though.” 

Lucas is ready to fire back when he catches Eliott’s expression. It’s the softness in Eliott’s eyes that stop him. The tilt of his chin, and the raised corner of his mouth with a silent thank you hanging off it. The thumb pressing into his neck, still a bit anxiously.

So he closes his mouth, and nods.

A person in a full suit enters the room some time later. He’s got one of those black earpieces and a pair of raybans peeking from the pocket of his shirt. Lucas moves away when he hears the footsteps, far from Eliott’s touch, and his throat burns at the bottom of his stomach when he realizes what he did.

Because he didn’t mean to. Not with Eliott. Fuck his instincts. 

“Is he gonna be able to play?” the man asks, and Eliott’s face falls at the question. 

Lucas bristles.

“You know, he is right here.” He snaps. “I think he’s qualified enough to answer for himself.”

The guy rolls his eyes. Lucas decides he hates him already. “Well, are you?”

Eliott shoots Lucas a thankful smile before turning towards to the man. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. Now move out of here, you’ve got ten minutes to get ready.”

Definitely hates him.

The guys are waiting for them outside of the lounge room. Basile doesn’t waste time before throwing his arms around Eliott, screaming something along the lines of Brooooo! Bro, I’m so happy you’re okay, come here!, and Eliott laughs loudly. So does Lucas, who can’t keep his grin out of his face as he watches Bas mother over Eliott, finding amusement in the exasperated expression in Eliott’s face as he lets Bas worry some more. 

His laughter fades when he catches Yann’s concern eyes behind Eliott for a split second. Okay? The raised eyebrow asks. 

Lucas nods. Okay.

They’re okay.

5 minutes until showtime, Lucas sees a shade fall over his shoes. 

“Help me tie this.” Eliott asks.

Lucas looks up from the stage monitor that he’s trying to tie around his waist. He knows there’s people who take care of this, okay? He knows, but he really had to pee. And touched something he shouldn’t have in the process, obviously, if the hanging box is anything to go by. 

Eliott is looking at him with amusement, a red bandana hanging from his hands.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucas grumbles, taking the bandana from Eliott’s hands. He lifts up on his feet to tie the silk fabric around Eliott’s forehead, stuttering out a breath when he feels Eliott’s hands steadying him by the hips. Fumbling fingers reach behind Eliott’s head, and he ties it wordlessly, ignoring Eliott’s eyes on him, before leaning back. “Good?”

Eliott hums, but his hands don’t leave Lucas hips. 

Until they do. 

Lucas’ hand is suddenly pressing against Eliott’s chest, trapped under Eliott’s hands. He feels Eliott’s thrumming heart beneath his palm, beating hard and fast against his chest. “You can keep my secret now.” Eliott whispers. “Take care of it.”

And then he’s pulling back, leaving Lucas there with a tingling sensation inside of his underwear, rigged breaths falling from his parted lips, and the fucking monitor still hanging off his side pathetically. 

2 minutes until showtime, Lucas hears a shout from the other side of the room.

“Hey Lu!”

Lucas looks up, finding Eliott grinning at him with a black guitar strapped to his shoulder.

“What?”

“If I get too nervous again, can I hold your hand?”

He flips Eliott off.

Eliott cackles all the way to the stage, and Lucas has to hide his grin behind his hand. 

He won’t give him the satisfaction.

 ***

 Eliott makes fun of him when the guys tell him they’re not allowed to leave the hotel after 10pm because last time Lucas almost slipped off a ledge trying to do a handstand with only his shorts on. He complains that it’s his fault they can’t explore the city during magic hour, whatever the fuck he means by that.

“The magic hour.” Lucas parrots. “The magic hour?”

Eliott shoots him an offended look before going off for ten minutes about the quietness in the roads, and that one lone kitchen light turned on in a six floors building, and the mysteries of the universe, and isn’t it fascinating? Just, the aesthetic of it all, you know? 

So basically, Eliott is a pretentious fucker, and Eliott is also a little bit drunk.

Lucas rolls his eyes, hiding his fond smirk behind the neck of his beer bottle. Pretentious fuckers are cuter when they’re drunk, he thinks. Or maybe that’s just Eliott. It’s probably just Eliott. 

And he’s probably a little bit drunk, too.

“Well.” Arthur interrupts Eliott’s rant, clapping his hands together. Eliott gets a dejected look on his face at being cut off that makes Lucas want to kick Arthur. “As world-changing as this conversation is, I’m drained. So I think I’m off to bed.”

Murmurs of same, and me too arise, followed by chairs scraping at the floor. Yann slaps his back and Bas lifts his hand for a high five that he burgundy returns, because their first concert in almost two years went fucking amazing, and the guy deserves it once in a while.

“You’re going to bed too?” Eliott asks from the other side of the table, shaking Yann’s hand abstently. He looks at Lucas with a daring expression.

“Nah.” Lucas replies. “I’m not tired.”

Eliott grins, and his grin lights up the fairly dim hotel bar. “Awesome.”

They end up finishing a bottle of champagne by themselves. 

“Why did you rope me into this?” Lucas moans into Eliott’s shoulder as they drag themselves out of the elevator an hour later. “And how are you still so coordinate? We drank nearly the same amount. I hate you.”

Eliott snorts, digging his hotel room key out of his back pocket. Lucas feels inclined to offer his help. “It’s because you’re a fucking lightweight.” And then, as an afterthought, “and you don’t hate me.”

“You’re a lightweight. And I do hate you.” Lucas fires back. Eliott can dig the key out himself. “Dick.”

“You do?” Eliott grins, his back resting against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

Lucas spreads his arms as far as they can go. “This much.”

“Well, I hate you this much, too.” Eliott answers, mirroring Lucas’ pose.

“Amateur.” Lucas huffs, although the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him. He spreads his arms wider, fingers wiggling at the ends, feeling the stretch on his back. “I hate you more.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes- wait, no!” Lucas squeals in horror when Eliott throws him over his shoulder. “No, no, no, no. Put me down, asshole!”

Eliott only snickers, adjusting his grip across Lucas’ middle and over the back of his knees. His stomach digs into Eliott’s shoulder, and he grips the back of Eliott’s t-shirt for dear life as Eliott walks them inside his hotel room.

“I swear to God, if you drop me,”

“I wouldn’t dare. You’re precious cargo.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Lucas threatens, yelping when Eliott shakes him. He slaps his hand between Eliott’s shoulder blades. “You’re dead. You’re so dead.”

Just like he grabbed him, Eliott drops him in the middle of the bed without a warning. Lucas bounces on the soft mattress, letting out a startled shout that Eliott giggles at, and he gives him a grimm look, showing him the middle finger.

“I really, really don’t like you right now.”

Eliott chuckles. “So I’ve heard.”

Lucas falls back against the mattress, head pillowed under his arm calmly as Eliott rummages under the bed. There’s the sound of a zipper, and then complete darkness covers his vision.

“Here.” Eliott says, throwing him a pair of sweatpants.

Under closer inspection, Lucas discovers it’s the ones he always steals when he crashes at Eliott’s. He hides his smile under the fabric before ripping it off his face. “What’s this for?”

Eliott frowns, looking Lucas up and down. “Are you gonna sleep in your jeans?”

Lucas clumsily crawls towards Eliott, scrambling up to his knees with a teasing smirk. “So you’re assuming I’m crashing at yours tonight, Mr. Demaury? How forward of you.” He bites back a smile when he notices Eliott staring at the patch of skin showing where his shirt has ridden up. “I’ll have you know I’m nothing like one of your groupies. I’m high maintenance.”

“Cute that you think I don’t know that already.” Eliott mumbles, still caught up looking at him.

Lucas’ eyes glint under the artificial light, skin lit up on fire under Eliott’s attention. Slowly, he pinches the ridden-up fabric between his fingers to pull it down, enjoying the way Eliott’s eyes snap back to his face dazedly when there’s no more skin to look at. 

He’s starting to get the hang of things, if he says so himself. It’s an exhilarating thought.

“Alright, you’ve got a point.” Lucas concedes, hands already flying down to play with the button of his jeans. He gives Eliott a pointed look. “ Don’t look though.” 

Eliott huffs but nods with a small smile. “Okay, you don’t look either then.” 

Lucas makes a quick work of unbuttoning his jeans, pushing himself up on the mattress with his shoulders to wriggle out of them. From the corner of his eye he can’t help but steal a few glances at the back of Eliott’s bare legs. The elastic band of his underwear hug his thighs, jet black against a pale tan that shouldn’t look as arousing as it does, but Lucas is drunk, so he thinks he deserves a pass on this one.

“Did you look?” Asks Lucas when Eliott turns around. Because he needs to know for sure; that he isn’t the only one, that Eliott wants this just as much, or at least to some extent. That he’s not going mad. 

“A little.” Eliott confesses, pinching his fingers together until they’re almost touching.

Lucas beams proudly. “Me too.”

They stare at each other for a second before breaking into a fit of giggles. 

Eliott wants him too. Eliott looks too, just as much as Lucas does. Eliott is looking back. The thoughts consume his insides, making him giddy, high off the want in Eliott’s eyes, higher than he ever was when he smoked weed at Eliott’s place. All cards are set on the table, finally, and a part of Lucas saw this coming, from the moment they stepped into overseas land, maybe even before. But the bigger, more eager part of him can’t see past Eliott’s confession.

God, he looked back. And it makes him wonder, if he’d ever looked back before, at least once. Only he just had missed it.

Lucas can’t keep the beaming smile off his face. Doesn’t even try fighting it this time.

Eliott joins him on the bed, and they scoot over until their backs hit the headboard. Eliott’s legs seem to never end spread out like this on the bed. Lucas sits with his legs flat on the mattress, wiggling his feet in an attempt to reach Eliott’s ankles, smiling when Eliott pulls his legs up a little to match him.

“Have you ever played two truths one lie?” Eliott says out of nowhere at one point.

“At a party or two.” Lucas responds. “When I was 16.”

Eliott snorts. “Sorry, forgot how touchy 17 year olds are about their tough reputation.”

“Will today be the day when we’re featured in the crime section of news?” Lucas looks at Eliott sweetly, flashing him a tight-lipped smile. “Because you’re playing a dangerous game tonight, buddy.”

“I bet the handcuffs would look good on you, though.”

The comments catches Lucas off guard, and he feels his cheeks flare up. “Let’s just play your stupid game.” 

Eliott’s face lights up with a winning smile curling up at his lips. 

It’s fine, it doesn’t even feel like much of a loss. The image in his brain definitely doesn’t. He stores the thought for another time, preferably when there’s less clothes involved, and his cheeks are flushed for a completely different reason.

“I’ll start.” Eliott says. “I have a little sister, I… don’t wanna get married, and,” He pauses, lifting a finger up to his temple as if that’ll make him think better. Lucas doesn’t have the heart to tell him not to bother, he’s known the answer straight away. “And I’m a vegetarian.”

“Are you kidding me?” Lucas raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You don’t have a sister, next question. Did you seriously think I wouldn’t know?”

“Well, maybe! If you didn’t pay enough attention!” Eliott throws his hands up, as if to say, listen to me, this is a possibility! As if Lucas would never not give him his undivided attention at all times. “And it’s your turn.”

“Oh, uhm.” Lucas furrows his brows in concentration, but loses all composure when Eliott starts tapping his fingers rhythmically on in the empty space between their bodies. They’re too close, Eliott’s long fingers, yet not close enough. He gives up after a minute, throwing his head back with a groan. “Fuck, Eliott, I can’t even come up with one. Let alone three.”

A thoughtful look settles over Eliott’s features, and Lucas watches mesmerized as the pensive expression turns into pure excitement. “Oh, I know. We’ll do something different. I say something, and you have to guess if I’m telling the truth or not, and then the other way around. Good?”

“Let’s do it.”

So it starts.

“Truth. I’m actually left handed.” Eliott starts, because he’s a dork, and he really underestimates Lucas.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you beat Bas at Just Dance, the controller was on your right wrist.” Lucas answers without missing a beat. Eliott nods, impressed, and Lucas tries not to brag. “Truth. I had a dog growing up.”

Eliott tilts his head to the side before answering with a careful “Truth?”

“False, sadly. My mama didn’t like scary noises growing up, and dogs bark, so…No dogs for me.”

“I’ll get you one for your birthday.” Eliott promises, grinning. And then, “truth, my favorite color is yellow.”

“Truth.”

“Nope, blue. Better luck next time.”

“Oh, calm down. Truth, I keep my phone beside my pillow when I sleep.”

“Of course you do. Truth, the first time my mama let someone stay over she gave me a full box of condoms just in case.”

“Poor baby Eliott, must’ve been traumatized. Truth, my uncle-”

Lucas isn’t aware of the minutes turning on the alarm clock next to the bed as the night drags on. They play until their voices turn hoarse. Until the buzzing from the alcohol turns into a warm tingling sensation inside their ears and at their necks, a feeling almost like coming up for air after being too long underwater, and they don’t even think about turning off the light, the thrill of getting to know each other keeping the sleep away.

It’s said in whispers, a quiet admission after a round of laughter that doesn’t fit the situation at first glance. Only that maybe it does, because maybe this was the whole point, from the very beginning. 

Eliott opens his mouth, and Lucas’ breath catches.

“Truth. I’m bipolar.”

The words sober Lucas up like a slap in the face. He reaches for Eliott’s arm, who looks at him with a dark shade falling over his eyes. Fear. 

He taps on Eliott’s arm once. Twice. Says back just as quietly. “Truth.”

Eliott nods jerkily, opens his mouth, to explain, Lucas presumes, but Lucas cuts him off. 

“You don’t have to explain it. We don’t explain the truths, it’s part of the rules.” Because he doesn’t, and Lucas wants him to know. In case no one ever gave him the choice before. “You can, though. I’ll listen.

Eliott stares, a bemused little smile on his face, and Lucas thinks he’s gonna explain when he opens his mouth, but what comes out next is,

“Part of the rules? You make the rules now?”

Lucas barks out a loud laugh. Louder than anything that’s been going on in the room for a few hours, loud enough that it startles the both of them.

“Fuck yes I do. Been making them since the very beginning, didn’t you know?” He jokes, elbowing Eliott’s side. Eliott nudges him back. “Anyway. Truth, I broke my arm trying to climb a tree in Yann’s backyard when I was 13.

Just like that, the tension is broken. 

Eliott’s lips are pursed when he snorts. “Sounds like you, so truth.”

“No. I was 12.” 

“Oh, but that’s not fair!”

Lucas shrugs, satisfied with himself, keeping to himself a joke about it being his game, his rules, but Eliott catches it anyway, because he only rolls his eyes amusedly before moving on. 

It’s fun, letting go like this. Getting to know someone this way. Until, until, until. Until a thought crosses Lucas’ mind, and he can’t shake it off without saying it out loud. 

The admission sits heavy on his tongue. It makes his heart race and sweat pool at the crease under his bottom lip. It’s ridiculous, how nervous he is. How much his voice shakes at an admission that’s been long coming. A confession that doesn’t hold any meaning, not between these four walls at least, because Eliott only had to take one good look at him to know. Yet.

Yet his hands shake, and he holds his breath when he says it.

“Truth. I like boys.”

A pause.

The world doesn’t end. There aren’t broken vases or screams of anguish. Just his heart, beating loudly in his ears, and the sound of calm breathing coming from the person sitting next to him. The world keeps spinning, and nothing changes, except for an inebriting feeling that grows inside of him that tastes like relief.

Eliott is already looking back when Lucas turns his head. His eyes shine brightly, brighter than Lucas’ ever seen them, a high contrast from the small smile sitting on his lips. Eliott turns on his side, and Lucas mirrors him, smiling down at their legs as they bump together. 

Eliott’s hand trails up the mattress, their fingers brushing together when he whispers, “Truth. You wanna kiss me.” 

Lucas lets their fingers lace, heart still beating in his throat. “That’s not how the game works.” He says, just as quietly.

Eliott huffs, throwing his head back before leveling Lucas with a stare that has every fine hair in his body standing up. And Lucas knows that look. It’s a look that says, don’t, because I’m still a little drunk, and so are you, and we probably shouldn’t. But also yes, because I’ve been staring at your lips all damn night, and I know you have too, and I really fucking need to hear it right now.

So instead of answering, he does this:

Instead of answering, Lucas cups Eliott’s cheek with his free hand. Instead of answering, he brushes his thumb under Eliott’s eye, inching impossibly closer to him, and this time he knows nothing will make him pull away. This time he feels Eliott’s eyes close, his eyelashes fluttering against his own cheek. So he closes his eyes as well, letting Eliott’s scent envelop him wholly, and presses his lips to Eliott’s cheek.

His lips linger, the feel of Eliott’s skin under his mouth enough to make him want to stay there for the rest of the night, the weekend, his life. It’s soft where he’s kissing, a little rough at his bottom lip that Eliott hasn’t had the chance to shave off, and Lucas already knows he’ll never get enough of this.

“We shouldn’t have drank so much.” Eliott groans when Lucas pulls back. He doesn’t let go of Lucas’ hand. 

“I told you.” Lucas squeezes Eliott’s hand to soften the blow, looking at Eliott with a hopeful expression. “Next time?”

“Next time.”

They continue playing the game until they pass out, right in the middle of Eliott’s bed. Their hands stay locked between their bodies, and they may know each other’s secrets now, but that’s okay. They’ll keep each other safe. Lucas knows they will. 

If everything else turns to dust, at least they’ll have this.

 ***

 It’s drizzling slightly the night they leave San Diego. By the time they get to Phoenix, the rain has stopped and the sky has a blanket of pale reds, greens and purples over it.

In Phoenix Yann makes a joke about fire and the crowd eats it up. In Phoenix a big music company in the shape of a pretty girl with big glasses and black stilettos invites them to a launch party, and they say yes.

It’s in Phoenix where a man in a red jacket offers Eliott a glass of rum that Eliott politely declines, placing the drink on the counter before asking for a water refill, piercing grey eyes boring a hole in Lucas’ face.

And it’s in Phoenix, when Lucas knows.

They look somewhat out of place here, Lucas thinks. Just five, barely out of their teen years guys, wearing washed-out jeans and dress shirts that Lucas is pretty certain he had seen Arthur wear during their graduation ceremony in high school. Eliott had even been wearing the hood of his jacket up until the pointed looks from the rest of the guys had become unbearable, so he had pulled it down reluctantly at the door. Still, there’s smiles directed their way, plenty of them. As many as the free drinks that seem to fly over their heads.

“I think I’m staying sober tonight, but thanks.” Eliott shakes his head at yet another drink presented in front of him. His eyes shine brightly in the neon lights, hungry stare looking Lucas up and down.

Lucas tilts his chin up in a small nod, tongue caught between his teeth as he lets a side smile settle over his features.

“So am I.” He confirms, raising a daring eyebrow at Eliott.

Eliott’s knowing smirk heats the back of his neck. It’s lustful as much as it’s childish. Happiness encapsulated in the shape of a smile and the glint of an eye, exciting and alluring, playful, and everything Lucas’ ever desired to see in someone’s eyes directed at him. Eliott’s stares are enough to get him drunk.

A while later, they lose the guys in the crowd. Basile sees a girl glancing at him from the backyard - or so he says - and he stumbles over his own feet running after her. Arthur and Yann fall right behind, and Lucas can hear his best friend’s cackles over the loud music as Bas almost slips on the glass backdoor. 

Him and Eliott stand back though, leaning against a wall in a far corner of the room with their water bottles pressed to their chests. 

“You look hot tonight.” Eliott says, looking at him through hooded eyes. 

Lucas snorts mid-sip. Water flies everywhere, dribbling down his chin, on his hand and down his shirt cuffs. It takes him a second to regroup, and by then he can already feel the blood heating up the inside of his mouth.

“Where did your finesse go?” He finally asks, voice strangled. 

Eliott shrugs playfully, looking at Lucas with a proud little smile.

“I left it inside a drawer in San Diego.”

Jesus Christ, this boy. He’s looking at Lucas with expectancy, his teeth peeking out from his lips where they’re curled up in a questioning smile, his arms crossed across his chest and back arching off the wall. There’s a certain urgency in his stare that it took Lucas months to find, but it’s there nevertheless, so intense that Lucas has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from jumping him.

It’s the butterflies in his belly that pull him towards Eliott until he’s standing in front of him. Their feet knock together, Eliott’s black boots against Lucas’ worn out converse, chests only one thumb apart. If Lucas really wanted to, he could press them together with one deep breath.

Instead, he stays where he is, hands fisting at the lapels of Eliott’s leather jacket, and says “Is this how you get the boy, Demaury?”

There’s a moment where Eliott looks at him with his mouth parted. His eyes are clouded with lust, features twinkling under the lights, and Lucas thinks he’s gonna kiss him there, but then-

“Did you turn into Taylor Swift while I wasn’t looking, Lallemant?”

“Oh, shut up.” Lucas laughs lightly, rolling his eyes. His grip on Eliott’s jacket tightens, and he pulls him closer until their noses almost touch.

The water bottle falls from between Eliott’s hands, bouncing against the floor loudly. Lucas pays no mind to it, eyes fluttering closed when he feels cold fingers pulling up the front of his shirt and brushing against his navel.

“I fucking knew it!” Eliott hisses, but he’s smiling as big as Lucas. The words are whispered between them in hot breaths, Eliott’s heat warming up Lucas’ mouth. “I knew no one can objectively be this perfect. Are you gonna write songs about me after tonight then?” His voice drops lower, and Lucas shivers. “Sing about the way my undershirt looks on the dancefloor and how I broke your heart after one kiss?”

Eliott’s hot breath on his face is dizzying. Lucas pulls him close, closer, until there’s no space left, not one hair that could fit between them, so close that Lucas stumbles a bit from the force of his grip. Eliott keeps him upright, hands pressed flat on his back steadying him.

“Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” He murmurs, smoothing his palms up Eliott’s chest. They fall empty, the words that come out of his mouth, pleads of please don’t, because you have power to ruin me for everyone else, hanging off his lips. 

“Vanity isn’t a good look on you.” He jokes, when in reality he wants to say, tell me it’s not just that a kiss, promise me there’ll be more than a kiss.

But he doesn’t say those things, and Eliott doesn’t ask for more, either. Instead, he laughs. He laughs, and smiles, and nudges Lucas playfully before pulling him back in his arms. His laugh is louder than the music, eyes brighter than the full moon, Eliott lights up the entire room with his entire presence, and it’s enough to rip delirious smiles out of Lucas. 

He’s feeling light-headed, completely done for, when suddenly Eliott takes a step back. His front freezes over without Eliott’s touch, and he watches confusedly as Eliott’s fingers curl around his wrist.

“Hey, come with me.” Eliott says, and Lucas stumbles over himself to follow him.

“Where are we going?” Lucas asks as Eliott drags them through masses of dancing bodies, and Eliott winks at him over his shoulder.

Lucas wants to kiss him when Eliott’s hand tightens in his after someone bumps into him on the way out. He wants to kiss him, when the moon shines on the water of the pool in the backyard, against Eliott’s profile and washing down the bridge of his nose. He wants to kiss Eliott, when Eliott walks them towards the back of the house and shows him the metallic stairs that lead to the roof.

He thinks he’s gonna kiss him, when Eliott says, “I noticed them when I got here” and, “I’ve been trying to get you alone all fucking night, and if you aren’t gonna make your move, I will.”

But he only laughs, says “but I tried, and you just went off on a tangent about Taylor Swift” in a whiny voice that has Eliott pressing a kiss to his cheek before they start climbing up the ladder.

“Do you think we’re allowed up here?” Lucas asks halfway, and Eliott laughs loudly, saying “does it matter?”

Lucas smiles hard, climbing another step up. “No, no it doesn’t.”

A clear sky welcomes them when they reach the roof. It seems to stretch on forever, pitch black over the tall buildings and blending the sharp edges of the mountains in the horizon. The moon looms between two mountains, high on the sky, and fuller than Lucas’ ever seen it. 

The darkness dusts their faces with shadows, but Eliott’s smile stays as bright as always.

“Wow.” Lucas breathes out. The words come out in a white fog, his breaths freezing over in the biting cold.

He feels arms curling around his middle, a chin hooked on his shoulder as Eliott rubs his arms up and down to warm him up. It makes Lucas smile. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Lucas nods against Eliott’s hold. “So fucking beautiful.” He exhales. “I love it, Eliott.”

The arms around his waist tighten, and then there’s freezing lips on his jaw. Kissing down his neck. One kiss behind his ear. On his cheek. And again, and again. The sound of Eliott’s lips against his skin is almost deafening in the dead of the night, touches so tender that feel like the only thing left on Earth in that moment.

A flush grows inside his chest, the red traveling up to his neck, warming his face up when he feels Eliott’s teeth nibbling at his throat.

“Fuck.” Lucas’ eyes close. He untangles Eliott’s hands from around his waist, guiding them blindly to the front of his jeans. “Fuck, Eliott.”

“Lucas…” Eliott whispers, and each letter is like a touch traveling up his spine.

The city is reflected in Eliott’s eyes when Lucas turns around in his arms. Bright yellows from the city lights, a fragment of the sky flying down to Eliott’s eyes. There’s a flash, and Lucas swears he sees himself reflected in them.

“Kiss me.” He begs. His arms wrap around Eliott’s neck, his hands bury in Eliott’s hair. “Please, kiss me.”

Eliott’s free hand stays on the small of his back when he goes to cup Lucas’ cheek. Lucas’ lips tingle with anticipation, breath stuttering when Eliott presses down to push their bodies flush together. He’s holding his breath when Eliott kisses him, and the second their lips brush together all the air leaves his lungs.

Eliott’s mouth is sweet against his. Their lips mold together, mouths sliding against each other wetly. Lucas’ toes curl in his sneakers when Eliott parts his mouth, tilting his head to one side to get a better grip on Lucas’ bottom lip. It rolls between Eliott’s teeth, and Lucas’ knees buckle as he feels Eliott sucking the color back on them. 

Lucas’ heart sits on his tongue, and Eliott eagerly steals it with a brush of his own tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

“Shit.” Lucas pants between kisses. There’s a trail of drool connecting their lips, and he licks it up, follows the trail like a pilgrim until he finds Eliott’s mouth at the end. Their tongues move together with slick sounds, the smell of rain and Eliott making him dizzy. “Shit.”

“You’re so beautiful.” Eliott licks under his bottom lip before sucking on it. Lucas wraps his arms around Eliott’s neck tightly, holding on as he traps one of Eliott’s legs between his. “I’ve been dying to do this all night.”

“Call a fucking cab, Eliott.” Lucas gasps, rolling his hips desperately against Eliott’s thigh as Eliott litters his neck with open-mouthed kisses. “Call a fucking cab, or I swear to God I’ll take your pants off on top of this fucking roof.”

 -

 Eliott calls the cab.

Lucas reminds himself of a horny teenager with the way they can’t keep their hands off each other as they climb in the back. Which, in some way, he supposes is not far from the truth.

Their thighs are pressed together for the whole ride. Eliott’s hand runs up and down the rough fabric of Lucas’ jeans, playful fingers sneaking off to brush the inside of his thigh, and Lucas has to bite his hand to keep in the moan that’s bubbling up in his chest. He looks down at Eliott’s crotch, mouth watering at the obvious bulge he finds there.

Lucas finds Eliott’s eyes in the window reflection when their fingers bump on Lucas' leg, and they smile. Eliott doesn’t let go of his hand for the rest of the ride.

 -

 They’re attached at the mouth the moment they go through Lucas’ hotel room door.

“Not throwing me over your shoulder like an animal?” Lucas jokes between urgent kisses. 

Eliott groans against Lucas’ lips, licking into his mouth hungrily. “I will if you want me to.” He whispers, biting softly at Lucas’ jaw as his hands slip inside Lucas’ underwear and squeeze his ass.

Lucas grips Eliott’s jacket, letting his forehead fall against his shoulder with a loud moan on his tongue. 

“Off, off.” Lucas whispers frantically as he pulls at Eliott’s jacket. “This has to come off.”

“Hmm, you’re right.” Eliott hums against his neck, and the vibrations send shivers down Lucas’ spine. “Too many clothes.”

Their jackets fall to the floor with a loud thud, but Lucas doesn’t hear anything past the rushing in his ears and Eliott’s heavy breathing as he walks them blindly towards the bed. A shoe goes first, and then another one, and another two, mouths attached together as they hop on one leg to get rid of their socks. 

Lucas trips over one of Eliott’s boots, and Eliott laughs into his mouth before spinning them around. Lucas has one hand wrapped around Eliott’s neck, the other curled at his waist, and he’s completely tangled around Eliott’s body. It's only the hands digging into his sides that stop him from completely toppling over when the back of his knees hit the bed. 

Eliott sits on his lap a moment later, legs on either side of Lucas and ass pressing down on Lucas’ erection. He nips at Lucas’ jaw, mouth wet and pink from all the kissing, and his eyes look almost black with want when he looks at Lucas.

“Is this okay?” Eliott asks, panting. His hands are flat across Lucas’ stomach, rubbing up and down in an attempt to lift up his shirt.

Instead of answering, Lucas grips Eliott by his hips and flips them over. Eliott’s back hits the mattress with the suddenness of the movement, and there’s awe in his eyes before Lucas dives back in to press an open-mouthed kiss to Eliott’s waiting lips. He rocks his hips down, feeling Eliott’s erection under his ass. 

His hands are already working on the buttons of Eliott’s shirt when he breaks the kiss, panting heavily on top of him. Eliott’s hands grip the top of his thighs as he watches Lucas unbutton his shirt wordlessly. He’s got a hungry expression that makes Lucas squirm. The slightest twitch of Lucas’ hips makes the grip on his thighs tighten, so he rolls them painfully slowly as he pops open one button after the other, enjoying the way Eliott trembles under him.

“I should’ve known you would be a fucking tease even in bed.” Eliott groans as Lucas scratches a nail down his chest lightly.

Lucas grins wickedly, going to unbutton his own shirt. “Me, a tease?” He says, rubbing a hand up his chest, gasping when his thumb brushes his nipple. A bead of sweat rolls down the corner of his mouth, and he catches it with his tongue. “I’m not the one who left me with a boner multiple times in the past year, am I?”

Eliott curses under his breath. “You don’t know the half of it.” 

“So tell me?”

Eliott sits up with Lucas on his lap, and then he’s flipping them over again. Lucas falls on the mattress with a gasp as Eliott rubs up his sides with rough hands. He spreads his legs for Eliott to fit between them, throwing his head back as their groins press together.

Eliott’s skin is warm under his hands. He glides his hands up and down Eliott’s smooth back, addicted to the way his fingers burn when he slides them across Eliott’s spine as Eliott leaves bruises under his jaw. Their hips roll together at a maddening pace, in a way that has Lucas’ eyes rolling back every time the thrust is intense enough to make his hardness catch on the waistband of his underwear.

“You don’t know,” Eliott rasps out, burying a hand in Lucas’ hair. He pulls on it, making Lucas’ head jerk up, scraping his teeth down Lucas’ exposed throat. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His tongue licks a long strip down the hollow between Lucas’ collarbones. “You don’t see what I see.”

A hand goes to undo Lucas’ jeans.

Lucas grips Eliott’s wrist urgently.

"Lucas?" 

“I’ve never…” Lucas licks his lips. His heart jumps to his throat when all the possibilities dawn on him, and for the first time tonight his stomach flips with something that isn’t excitement. “I’ve just never… done this. Not like this.”

Lucas is scared to look at Eliott in the eye, but he finally does when he feels Eliott cupping his cheek. He finds Eliott staring down at him calmly. No nameless stranger, not a demon from his mind. Just Eliott.

It’s enough to ease the knot in his stomach.

“We can stop if you want.” Eliott whispers, and there’s tenderness in his eyes when he says it. “No pressure.”

“No!” Lucas exclaims, maybe a bit too eagerly, because Eliott’s eyes crinkle when he laughs. He lets a smile of his own curl up at the ends of his mouth. “No, I mean, I want to keep going. I think I’d die if we didn’t. Just, please,” he hates the way his voice goes small at the end, “please don’t hurt me.”

“I would never,”  Eliott’s words seem to be punched out of him. Breathless and surprised, Eliott looks at him, really looks at him, and says: “Lucas, I would never.”

And then he kisses him.

It’s the softest kiss they’ve shared. Eliott brushes his thumb under Lucas’ eye, taking Lucas’ lips between his, moving them together without any of the urgency that’s been present in their other kisses. 

Lucas loses himself in it. Colors dance behind his eyelids, and there’s sugar in his mouth and in his lungs. Everything is sweet, from the way Eliott’s tongue brushes against his lower lip to the hand that caresses his side in gentle motions. His hands settle over Eliott’s shoulders, fingers following the line of Eliott’s muscles as they tense when he holds himself up on top of Lucas. 

Lucas’ hips chase Eliott’s, back arching off the bed as Eliott makes him work for it.

“No more teasing.” Lucas mumbles between kisses. “Please, Eliott.”

Eliott grabs his face by the chin. His hair falls down his eyes, and his mouth is bitten red and shiny with spit. The image makes Lucas buckle up his hips again, and they both moan.

“Can I suck you off?” 

Lucas’ breath catches against his ribcage. “You don’t-” He blubbers, but his nails dig on Eliott’s shoulders. The thought of Eliott’s lips wrapped around his dick is enough to send a wave of pleasure down his body. “You don’t have to. I know it’s not actually that pleasant for the other person. We can do other stuff.” He says, although he’s dying to see Eliott between his legs.

“Shut up.” Eliott whispers fiercely, pressing one hard kiss to Lucas’ red mouth. “Sometimes a guy just wants to suck his friend’s dick really bad, okay? Let me.”

Lucas swallows. He nods.

“Yeah, alright.”

His voice already sounds wrecked as Eliott lets his tongue drag down the expanse of his neck. His hands hold Lucas’ hips down on the bed, tongue flat against Lucas’ chest, drawing a wet trail down his stomach. Lucas reminds himself to breath as Eliott noses at his happy trail before sucking a bruise on his hip bone. Little by little, Eliott’s hands travel down to pull Lucas’ jeans and underwear down slowly, face buried in Lucas’ navel.

Lucas clenches his teeth when Eliott licks a stripe across his abdomen before blowing softly on it. 

“Don’t hold yourself back.” Eliott says, and with that Lucas’ underwear is gone. “I want to hear you.”

Lucas makes the mistake of looking down. There’s a shiny trail of spit down his chest and long fingers covering his hip bones. Eliott’s head between his legs is almost a religious experience; his bitten-red mouth and messy hair make Lucas drape an arm over his eyes, and he moans loudly when he feels Eliott’s breath on his dick.

“Fuck, your body is sinful.” Lucas thinks he hears.

And then there’s wet heat wrapped around his dick.

“Oh, fuck.” Lucas wheezes. He fists at the sheets as Eliott bobs his head up and down. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Eliott hums around his dick, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through Lucas’ body. Lucas’ thighs tremble when he feels Eliott’s tongue tracing the veins on his dick, his hand flying down to grab Eliott’s hair.

His hips buckle involuntarily as Eliott circles his head with the tip of his tongue, moaning out an apology when Eliott starts coughing, but Eliott cuts him off.

“Do it again.” Eliott croaks out. Lucas’ dick rests on his parted lips when he speaks. “Again.”

“Oh, Christ.” Lucas groans, rolling his hips experimentally, looking down at Eliott. Eliott coughs again before pulling back. He tries again, moaning around Lucas’ dick when it hits the back of his throat. “Oh, God.”

“Eliott, Eliott, Eliott.” Lucas whines as Eliott swallows him again and again. He pulls at Eliott’s hair, heart loud in his ears and back arching off the bed when Eliott’s tongue flickers at the head. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

It only takes a brush of Eliott’s fingers down his length coupled with his drool-smeared lips sucking on the tip of his dick, and Lucas is seeing white spots as he comes with a loud moan.

He can feel his heartbeat all the way down to his toes, pulsating behind his eyes and popping his ears. He’s breathing heavily when Eliott climbs back up on the bed, all of his muscles turned to jelly as Eliott settles next to him, hugging him to his chest.

Lucas goes, hiding his face in Eliott’s neck. “I wanna do you too.” He lets out. “Let me do you too.”

“You don’t have to,” Eliott promises, but groans when Lucas’ knee brushes against his hard-on.

“Oh, shut up.” Lucas murmurs. “Sometimes a guy just wants to give his friend a good orgasm, okay? Just tell me how you want it.”

Without saying a word, Eliott takes Lucas’ hand resting on his chest. He guides it to Lucas’ stomach, and Lucas frowns, confused, until he feels some stickiness coating the pads of his fingers.

“Like this,” Eliott whispers, smearing Lucas’ fingers with his own come. “I want it exactly like this.”

Lucas reaches down to take Eliott in his hand. He’s heavy against Lucas’ hand, warm and smooth as Lucas slicks him with his fingers carefully. Eliott’s arm twitches under Lucas’ head, the hand at his shoulder scratching slightly with every flick of Lucas’ wrist.

That’s how Eliott comes. With Lucas’ leg thrown over his body, their mouths moving languidly in the heat of the room, Lucas’ tongue swallowing Eliott’s heavy panting and his fingers moving up and down Eliott’s dick.

“Good?” 

Lucas wipes his hand on the sheets. He’s not planning on sleeping on that side of the bed any time soon.

“Good.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the middle of Eliott’s chest before passing out.

 ***

 The next morning the come stain is untouched.

Lucas wakes up to fingers tracing the pillow creases on his cheek and a leg draped across his hip. He smiles.

“Good morning.” Eliott whispers quietly, playing with the shorts hair in the back of Lucas’ neck. “You look hot when you sleep.”

Lucas groans, burying his blush on the pillow. “It’s too early for this, stop.”

Eliott laughs, pulling him closer. “It’s noon?”

“Yes, so?” Lucas asks back, but he doesn���t fight Eliott’s hold. He lets himself be pulled against Eliott’s chest, resting his hand on Eliott’s neck. Opens his eyes. “Also, good morning.”

Lucas isn’t prepared for the glow radiating off Eliott in the morning. He looks beautiful with the white sheet covering his body from the waist down. His skin is golden under the midday sun coming from the window, mots of red and pink littered across his collarbones in the shape of Lucas’ lips. His eyes are on the side of blue when Lucas looks into them, light and happy.

They study each other silently. Lucas lets the pads of his fingers run down Eliott’s upper arm, scrunching up his nose happily when Eliott’s eyes crinkle at the ends. Eliott takes his expression as an invitation to rub the tip of their noses together, and Lucas accepts it gladly, letting the sunlight light up his smile.

“Last night was fun.” Eliott murmurs. “I had fun.”

Fun doesn’t even begin to cut it, Lucas thinks. Fun is what you have on a night out with your friends. Fun is the way you describe your experience after getting off a rollercoaster, or a trip to the countryside with your school. Whatever he and Eliott did last night, it was definitely more than just ‘fun’.

“Me too,” is what Lucas replies instead.

Eliott doesn’t wanna hear it, he reminds himself. There’s too much inside of you, that you have to give pieces of yourself little by little, or else he’ll run the other way. Like he did last time. 

So he smiles into the kiss that Eliott gives him, morning breath be damned, and eats the words staining his mouth black right up. 

“Friends, then?” Eliott asks, but his hand is still on Lucas’ cheek, and his lips brush against Lucas’ when he speaks.

And Lucas snorts despite himself.

“Friends that kiss, you mean.” He replies, tilting his chin towards Eliott.

Eliott hums, pressing another soft kiss to Lucas’ cupid bow. “Yeah, friends that kiss…” his hand travels down to cup Lucas’ ass, and he raises a questioning eyebrow. “And maybe a little bit more?”

“Maybe a little bit more sounds amazing.” Lucas agrees. He covers Eliott’s hand on his ass, pressing it down.

Eliott’s erection pokes at his leg, making Lucas sigh as he licks into his mouth. 

“It sounds perfect.” 

“Good.” The words sound sickeningly sweet in his mouth. Eliott makes a startled noise when he suddenly flings his leg across Eliott’s hip, caging Eliott’s body between his thighs. “Now that we’ve cleared that up…” He crawls backwards, kissing his way down to Eliott’s crotch. 

He’s peppering soft, little kisses to Eliott’s navel when Eliott’s brain wakes up from its stupor.

“Wait, Lucas, what are you doing?” Eliott asks, and his voice sounds strangled already.

“What does it look like?” Lucas asks before bending down to bite a matching bruise into Eliott’s hip bone. “I’m returning the favor.” 

And with that he covers his head with the sheets. 

Eliott’s noises are all the encouragement he needs as his lips stretch around Eliott’s dick. He starts off slowly, adjusting to the heavy weight against his tongue. Small licks that slick Eliott up, his tongue flat on Eliott’s shaft, running it up and down a few times before his jaw works his mouth open.

He covers with his hand what his mouth can’t reach, hollowing his cheeks like he’d seen Eliott do last night. It’s exhilarating, the noises that come out of Eliott when he runs his tongue across the crease of the head, and Lucas can understand why Eliott wanted to do it so bad last night.

When Eliott’s hand reaches down to grip his hair as he comes, Lucas knows this won’t be the last time he does it. Far from it.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this with other ‘friends’?” Eliott asks when Lucas comes out from under the sheets. He sounds out of breath, and his face is painted pink in the sunlight. “Because holy fuck.”

Lucas wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a proud feeling blossoming in his chest that doesn’t match the playful glare he throws at Eliott. 

“What do you think, asshole?”

“Well.” Eliott grins. He opens his arms, and Lucas goes. “Then you’re a fucking natural.”

He can do friends, he thinks. To kiss Eliott, he’d do anything.

  ***

 Lucas falls a little more in love on the road to Philadelphia.

He’s digging his cold feet into Eliott’s calf, and Eliott squeals and complains that he’s got no manners, God Lucas, a man shares his bunk bed and this is how you repay him? every time it happens.

He’s wearing Eliott’s sweatpants, because he’s accidentally – or maybe not so much – claimed them as his, and his sleeping shirt. Eliott’s sleeping shirt has little gingerbread men in them, and it’s so cute that his heart hurts with it.

Individual bunk beds aren’t made for two people, Lucas has discovered. It’s uncomfortable as fuck, and they have to fold in on themselves to fit their legs under the covers, but every time one of them shifts the blanket falls over their legs.

Thus Lucas’ cold toes.

“Can I get a waffle? Can I please get a waffle?” Eliott says under his breath, and Lucas burst into laughter.

“What the fuck, Richard?”

Yann’s face pops up in front of Eliott’s bunk bed unannounced.

“Are you…” he hesitates, “watching vine compilations on Eliott’s phone?” At their nods Yann’s face turns into a grimace. “You two are weird as shit.”

“Fuck you too, Yann!”

Yann laughs all the way up to his bunk bed. “Yeah, yeah. But keep your fucking voice down. Arthur can turn off his hearing aids, Bas and I can’t.” He yells. “And I wanna sleep a couple of hours before getting to Philly.”

“Party popper!” Eliott yells. Lucas muffles his laughter in Eliott’s shoulder.

“What are we, Eliott? 12?”

And with that he turns the light off, like the asshole that he is.

The bus falls in a relative quietness after that.

The screen under their faces turn to black, and they’re left in complete darkness. Lucas can barely make out Eliott’s features despite their closeness, only getting one second long flashes every time a lightning strikes. The lightning always carries with it a deafening roar, and Lucas uses the opportunity to inch closer to Eliott little by little.

“You know you don’t have to pretend to be scared of thunderstorms to cuddle, right?” Eliott laughs into Lucas’ ear as they slip under the covers.

It’s still a tight fit, but Lucas makes do when he throws his legs across Eliott’s body, resting his head on his chest. Right there he feels Eliott’s heartbeat under his ear, strong and steady.

“So what if I actually am?” He whispers.

“Yeah, right.” Eliott laughs lightly, but stops himself a second later. “Wait. Are you?”

“No.” Lucas confesses in a breath. “But maybe I’m a bit scared of the dark. And loud noises don’t help.”

There’s silence, and then Eliott is dropping a kiss to Lucas’ hair. “Just a little though?”

Another angry roar shakes the bed, and every muscle in Lucas’ body tenses up.

“Yeah.” He murmurs. “Just a little.”

The lips travel down to his forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“Is that a promise?”

Eliott’s arm tightens across his shoulders. “No,” he says, capturing Lucas’ lips in his. “It’s a fact.”

Lucas shivers as Eliott’s fingers tiptoe down his back. The rain hitting the bus windows is aggressive in contrast to the soft kisses Eliott drops on his cheek as his hand travels further down, drawing lines by his spine before slipping under Lucas’ underwear.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” Lucas whispers in the dead of the night, and another thunder drowns out his sigh when Eliott’s finger brushes against his entrance.

“Have some faith in me.” Eliott’s whispers back. With his other hand he tucks Lucas’ already half-hard dick out of Lucas’ underwear, giving it a pump. “I thought you’d be more worried about your best friend sleeping right above this bed.”

“Don’t fucking ruin the mood talking about my best friend with your hand down my dick,” Lucas moans softly as Eliott rubs at his entrance with one finger while he works him with the other hand. “And it’s too loud outside.” He bites down on Eliott’s neck to drown out the moan that bubbles up in his throat when Eliott flicks his wrist. “The storm will cover the noise.”

Eliott’s grin turns wicked then. “Not if I make you scream hard enough.”

“Eliott.” Lucas warns

Eliott makes Lucas come with a loud moan. To everyone’s joy, a roaring thunder covers most of it.

 -

 The sun is up when they get to Philadelphia. The buildings paint a dark silhouette against the orange sky, and Lucas’ first thought is that it’s breathtakingly beautiful. When Eliott joins him on the window the sky starts shifting into brighter colors. He leaves a kiss on Lucas’ bare shoulder before curling his arm around his shoulder, and Lucas thinks.

Lucas thinks that, somehow, Eliott makes all the views better.

 ***

  Chicago is fun until it isn't. 

They have a concert the first night. The crowd roars when they come on stage, electrifying and loud in a way Lucas isn’t used to, or maybe it sounds like that only because he’s been happy lately. 

Lucas ties Eliott’s red bandana to his wrist, playing with the knot whenever the drums get a breath during guitar solos. Eliott beams every time he catches him playing with it, and Lucas, with his heart as light as the clouds, only smiles back harder, sticking his tongue out at him when Eliott pulls a funny face.

It’s partly the adrenaline buzzing inside his veins and partly the way Eliott’s hand had lingered on the small of his back during the interlude, that makes Lucas stand up from his stool. There’s an acoustic version of Hozier’s ‘Take me to church’ playing from the guitars, echoing through the roof and the thousands of people staring back at them. 

Lucas walks quietly towards where Eliott is sitting on the step between the upstage and the downstage, guitar on his lap as his fingers walk down the strings comfortably to the beat of the song. It’s to the high raise in Yann’s voice when he sings one last offer me that deathless death, oh good God that he sinks to his knees on the floor behind Eliott.

And it’s to the last notes playing on Eliott’s guitar that Lucas leaves a phantom kiss to the back of his neck. 

Eliott misses the last note by a long shot.

Back at the hotel Eliott follows Lucas to his room. Lucas pretends to act surprised for two whole minutes before Eliott is pining his wrists to the nearest wall.

“Sexy.” Lucas says lowly, smirking at the grip on his wrists before turning to look at Eliott through his eyelashes.

“Fuck.” Eliott curses, nudging his knee between Lucas’ legs. Lucas moans. “What happened to the nervous virgin from a couple of months ago?”

Lucas leans his head towards Eliott. “You fucked it out of me.” He confesses, pressing the words to Eliott’s cheek. “Hard and loudly, multiple times. If I remember correctly.” Pulling back, his gaze brims with heat. “Or maybe I’m not remembering it right?”

A fire burns inside Eliott’s eyes. “In that case,” Eliott murmurs. He frees Lucas’ wrists before letting his hands travel down to Lucas’ ass, and he grabs it in handfuls. “You might need a reminder.”

“Yeah?” Lucas loops his arms around Eliott’s neck. His tongue follows down a familiar path on Eliott’s neck. “I’d really fucking like that.”

“Yeah.”

They’re naked by the time Lucas pushes Eliott on the bed. 

The sheets are cold against his knees when he crawls over Eliott’s body, hands on either side of Eliott as Eliott pushes down on the small of his back to rub their hard-ons together. It feels heavenly, dangerously addictive, the slide of their fronts together in half aborted thrusts. The tips of Eliott’s fingers brushing the swell of his ass just barely where he’s got his hands holding up Lucas’ hips. 

Lucas arches his back, swallowing with his lips the dry gasp that escapes from Eliott when the motion adds more pressure to their groins. 

“You’re way too good at this, fuck.” Eliott pants, fitting a finger between Lucas’ asscheeks.

Lucas hums. “Learnt from the best.” And with that he sits on Eliott’s abdomen, hands on Eliott’s chest supporting him like the strongest anchor. He pushes his ass back on Eliott’s finger, stuttering out a groan when Eliott’s dick brushes against his skin. “Didn’t I?”

“You’ll be the death of me.” Eliott’s words cut through the heat in the room, adding more fuel to the fire inside Lucas’ belly. His fingers brand bruises on the inside of Lucas’ thighs as he flips them over, and the surprised yelp that Lucas lets out is nothing compared to the guttural moan that escapes his mouth when Eliott’s tongue flicks at his rim. “And I’m taking you down with me.”

“I wouldn’t-” Lucas takes a second to breathe, a moan tickling at his tongue cutting him off. After months of doing this, Eliott’s nose nudging at his perineum as his tongue laps at his hole still leaves a mouth-shaped hole in his lungs. He reaches down with a trembling hand to push Eliott’s face closer against him. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Eliott’s fingers dancing on the crease where his ass meets his thigh are the sweetest torture. Lucas sucks his lip into his mouth, throat working on auto-pilot to the point where he stops having control over the noises that come out of him. Slowly, the touch travels down the back of his thigh, and with a secure grip on the back of his knee Eliott parts his legs further apart.

His thumb stays tapping at Lucas’ rim as he reaches for the bottle of lube and pack of condoms that are packed in Lucas’ suitcase under his bed. “This is what you were going for tonight, weren’t you?” His thumb presses down harder, pulling Lucas open. “A good, hard fuck that you’ll still feel tomorrow? Don’t think I don’t know your tricks, Lallemant.”

“Eliott…”

Eliott pushes one of Lucas’ legs up to his chest. This position stretches his leg’s muscles, and Lucas knows it won’t be long until the back of his thigh starts burning, shaking under Eliott’s fingers from exertion

“You want it like this?”

Lucas’ eyes roll in the back of his head when Eliott’s warm fingers brush against his entrance teasingly.

“Or like this?” And he presses two fingers to Lucas’ rim.

Lucas’ back arches off the bed. “Fuck, like that.” He groans. Eliott twists his wrist, curling his fingers inside him in a way that has sweat pooling at Lucas’ cupid bow. “Fuck, Eliott. Eliott, come here,” he’s squirming around Eliott’s fingers, eyes shut tight as he makes grabby hands at Eliott, clawing at Eliott’s shoulders blindly. “Come up here, kiss me.”

Lucas’ leg stays trapped between their chests when Eliott leans up to press open-mouthed kisses to his mouth.They make stars dance behind his eyelids, Eliott’s soft lips moving against his, waking up entire swarms of butterflies that he feels fluttering against his ribcage.

He closes his eyes, hands on each other’s faces, skin touching skin everywhere. Their stomachs, their hard-ons, Eliott’s long fingers stretching him open with his tongue making a home out of Lucas’ mouth. Lucas parts his lips wider, tilting his head to one side with a wet sound as he catches Eliott’s tongue between his teeth.

Each jab of Eliott’s fingers push him further up on the bed. Lucas mouths at Eliott’s cheek, wet gasps falling from his lips, digging his fingers into Eliott’s back as his breath starts to come out in shorter gasps.

“Stop with the fucking teasing,” Lucas gasps. “You know I’m ready, c’mon.”

“I want you to turn around.” Eliott says with a strained voice. Another push makes Lucas’ body tremble, and he moans. “I want you to lay on your stomach, and I want to fuck you until the only word in your brain is my name.”

Lucas groans at the words. He pushes Eliott off him before rolling on his stomach, spreading his legs for Eliott to kneel between them. The edge of the sheet catches on his dick, and he hisses, rolling his hips against the mattress in an attempt to take some of the edge off.

He knows he looks good. He knows how good the curve of his back looks if he pushes his hips up just the slightest bit, how much Eliott likes to bury his thumbs in the swell of his ass when they’re fucking and Lucas’ shoulders are the only thing support him upright. He knows how Eliott goes blind with want whenever it happens.

So with that knowledge and his hands under his chin, Lucas pushes blindly towards Eliott’s direction, lifting his ass off the bed.

And Eliott curses, spreading his ass open to see the way Lucas’ rim swallows him whole.

That night Lucas come untouched. There’s dried drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, and his cheeks are flushed red as Eliott fucks into him, one hand resting on the small of his back while the other pushes his shoulders flat on the mattress. 

The sound of skin slapping wakes a hunger in Lucas that he’s not used to feeling. The headboard bangs against the wall with every thrust, and a part of Lucas smirks, thinking about how their room neighbors must know by now how good their sex is. The bigger part of Lucas though: that part joins Eliott in his silent gasps as they both come with body-shaking shivers.

Chicago is fun.

 ***

 Until it isn’t.

Two mornings after what Lucas affectionately refers to as “the night they fucked each other’s brains out in the state of Illinois”, Eliott isn’t at breakfast.

“Did you guys see Eliott?” Lucas asks, tearing a croissant in half before remembering there’s no one to share it with.

Yann has the decency to stick his nose out of his coffee mug to answer with a sleepy ‘no’.

Lucas frowns to himself, eating half croissant silently. He checks his phone every few minutes, waiting for a text that doesn’t come. That Eliott is sick, that he has a hangover, although they didn’t go out last night, but maybe. Just maybe. That maybe he’s just tired, and can Lucas please bring him something to eat from a vending machine? He doesn’t wanna get up, and the bed is really warm under the sheets, and I’ll even warm up your side if you get me some food, Lucas.

But the text never comes, and the other half of the croissant stays on the plate, untouched. 

He’s on his way out when he bumps into him.

“Eskild, have you heard from Eliott?” He asks his manager. “He didn’t come down for breakfast.”

Eskild looks up from his phone for a moment. He gets a big smile on his face when he sees Lucas, and Lucas can’t suppress one in return. There’s a certain familiarity to that smile that Lucas can’t quite put a finger to.

“Lucas!” Eskild exclaims, chirpy even in the morning. “How’s my favorite band member doing? Just kidding. Favorite drummer?” 

Lucas snorts despite the slight uneasiness he feels. 

“Eliott texted me this morning, yes. He said he was having one of those days, you know?” He shares a knowing look with Lucas, one perfect eyebrow raised up to his hairline, and Lucas understands. He goes to say something when the phone on Eskild’s hand goes off. “Oh, I have to take this, excuse me. You tell me if there’s any problem, yeah? The whole country is counting on you, Lucas Lallemant. Let me just- Baby gay! No, Issy, I told you you don’t need another dog house- well, tell Even to return it, what the fuck?!”

Eliott is having one of those days.

Okay. He can work with that.

 -

 He stops at the reception on the way to Eliott’s room.

The sweet front he has to put up to get a spare room key from the girl working there makes him not miss one bit the way he used to kiss girls to shoot his shot at being what everyone expected from him. The sweet smile in his face is anything but sweet, and the flirty wink the girl throws his way makes Lucas want to rip out his own eyes.

So much for being straight. He snorts to himself; if only Eliott had come around sooner.

There’ a vending machine at the hall on their floor. He stops again, and buys two chocolate bars from it.

The ‘1’ in 212 is crooked next to Eliott’s room door. He smiles at the little detail before walking past it. When he gets back, two chocolate bars in his front pocket, his laptop under his arm and Eliott’s room key in his other hand he smiles again.

“Knock, knock.” He says quietly, pushing the door open.

Eliott is a lump in the middle of the bed. The curtains have been drawn shut, turning the room into a dim void of shadows and blurred shapes. Lucas can see a bit of golden hair peeking out from under the blanket, glowing weakly with the light coming from the still open door. 

“Lucas?” A voice croaks out from under the mess of blankets.

A hand inside of Lucas’ chest squeezes his heart at the sadness in Eliott’s voice.

As carefully as he can, he closes the door behind him. The reflection of his phone screen lights the path towards the bed, and he walks silently until his knees hit the mattress. With gentle fingers, he pulls the blankets down Eliott’s face, smiling softly when Eliott blinks up at him.

“Hey, you.” He murmurs. The pad of his finger brushes down Eliott’s cheek lightly, all the way up from his cheekbone and down the corner of Eliott’s smile, feeling the twitch of Eliott’s muscles under his fingertip. “Scoot over a little, I can’t fit.”

The storm in Eliott’s eyes grumble. The words seem to get trapped in his mouth, tongue rolling on his teeth for a couple of times. Lucas waits.

 “I don’t…” He whispers at last. “I’m not really- in the mood today. Sorry.”

If anything, Lucas’ smile widens.

“You think I only hang out with your for your mouth skills? You’re my friend too, and I like taking care of you.” There’s more words threatening out to spill out from him, but he holds himself back. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. With his thumb he draws a circle under Eliott’s eyes. “Now don’t be stubborn, scoot over a little.”

“Okay.”

Eliott curls up against his side the moment Lucas lies next to him. His fist grabs handfuls of Lucas’ sweater and his face hides in the crook between Lucas’ shoulder and neck. There’ tension where his fingers grip Lucas’ clothes, and the hand on Lucas’ heart tightens again, so he covers Eliott’s fingers with his own, drawing circles on the inside of Eliott’s wrist.

“I’m not having a very good day.” Eliott confesses between one breath and the other.

Lucas sighs sadly. “I know.” He murmurs. He presses a kiss to Eliott’s forehead, lips lingering on Eliott’s smooth forehead until he feels some tension leave Eliott’s shoulders. “I know. It’s okay, tomorrow will be better.”

Eliott makes a wounded noise that turns everything in Lucas’ insides upside down. He squeezes Eliott’s shoulders, pulls him closer to himself, and for a second he imagines he could let Eliott get under his skin. Live in the ribs closest to his heart, so that he could always be safe, and happy and warm.

“Tomorrow will be better.” Lucas repeats. “And if it isn't- and if it isn’t, then we’ll deal with it tomorrow. Good?”

There’s a pause. Lucas thinks Eliott might have fallen asleep; with the way his fingers run through his head, it wouldn’t be the first time.

But then Eliott’s hand moves across Lucas’ body. 

“What’s that for?” He asks, pointing at the laptop lying at Lucas’ side.

“It’s my laptop.” Lucas answers. “I thought we could watch something later? I promise I won’t complain if you put on Pretty Woman. Not much at least. I also brought some chocolate bars, in case we get hungry later.”

“You’re an angel.” There’s a kiss pressed behind his ear. “You’re a fucking angel.”

Pink flushes up to Lucas’ cheeks, and he shakes his head. “No I’m not. I just want to take care of you like you take care of me.”

Eliott lifts his head with a tilt of his chin, smiling up at Lucas slowly, and Lucas can’t help but close the gap between their lips. It’s not something they do, kissing just for the sake of it, and Lucas doesn’t realize until he’s burying his hand in Eliott’s hair as he lets their mouths move together chastely.

“Can we watch that movie now?” Eliott asks when they pull apart.

The hand inside Lucas’ chest eases its grip in his chest. It has a thin wrist, followed by the beginning of a strong forearm and the outline of long fingers with calloulouses at the fingertips.

So they watch the movie.

Eliott’s head is nestled on his chest as he juggles the laptop on his knees, the light of the screen reflecting on Eliott’s features. A dim white washes over his face, flashes of colors catching on his eyelashes when he blinks, and the small smile on his face makes up for the easy pick up lines and cheap Hollywood romance.

A yawn pops his jaw halfway through. He stretches his shoulders in an attempt to keep himself awake, and the arm under Eliott’s head bumps with something solid. He reaches for it, eyebrows knitting together when he feels a metallic spiral between his fingers.

“What’s this?” He can’t help but ask, looking curiously at the notebook in his hand.

Eliott averts his eyes from the laptop to look at it. “That’s my lyrics notebook.” He explains with a small shrug. “You can look through it if you want.”

“I can?” Lucas asks excitedly, and then “Will I find a song written about me here?”

Eliott only snorts, returning his attention to the movie. “I wouldn’t give you a notebook with poetry about your blue eyes, Lucas. Those are in another one.”

Lucas runs his fingers across the cover of the notebook. Getting a peek inside Eliott’s mind scares him to death, and he hopes Eliott doesn’t pick up the way his heart jumps when he turns the first page. 

Words in cursive and doodles at the margins greet him. Some lines that Lucas doesn’t understands, some that he does and make his heart fill with pride. They’re good. Really fucking good.

Dropping kisses to Eliott’s hair, he turns page after page. Some pages are hauntingly real, black ink smeared over the page and words crossed out, one after the other, making a mess out of the page. 

It’s one of those pages that catch Lucas’ eyes.

He nudges Eliott’s shoulder. 

“Tell me about this one?”

Eliott takes the notebook from him, reading over the words in the page. A grim smile settles in his face when he speaks, making the hairs in Lucas’ arms stand up. 

“Who am I? I’m almost 21,” Eliott murmurs without even looking down at the notebook. “Can’t remember half the time that I’ve been alive.” His knuckles turn white in the grip on the notebook before he gives it back to Lucas. “I’ve been working on this one for a long time. I don’t know,” He shrugs tiredly. “I don’t think I’ll ever finish it. There’s something missing, so I just kind of read the words again and again in days like this one, feeling sorry for myself and hoping to God everything'll pass soon.”

“Well, I think it’s good.”

The ends of Eliott’s lips lose their edge, and his smile turns softer when he reaches up to brush his finger to Lucas’ neck. “You always think everything I do is good.”

“That’s because it’s true.”

Eliott tilts his head to one side then, and Lucas lets those eyes study every minuscule flaw in him without moving. He gets tired eventually, turning around in Lucas’ hold, and his lips find its home against Lucas’ shoulder. Lucas sets the notebook down, by his side and close to his hip, resuming back to brushing his fingers through Eliott’s hair.

When he’s sure Eliott’s asleep he opens the notebook by the last page that has been touched, reaching for the pen at the bedside tablet. It’s with red ink that he scribbles some words down, right by the biggest crossout in the page yet, and smiles satisfied at his work.

He falls asleep too.

  Soft and slow, let the minutes go.

Count out loud, so we don’t have to keep them to ourselves.

  ***

 The city that never sleeps, is what Bas calls it.

The heart of capitalism, Yann retorts back. But then Eliott pops his head from the bathroom with a toothbrush in his hand, toothpaste dribbling down his chin like the goddamn child-man that he is, and says, isn’t that LA though? With Hollywood and stuff, you know?

Eliott catches Lucas’ eye in the mirror reflection and winks.

The city that never sleeps it is.

Lucas can see some appeal to it, he must admit, when the honking cars drown out Eliott’s loud moans as Lucas fucks into him hard and fast, one hand tangled in his hair that keeps pulling his head back. Even from the tenth floor.

It’s impressive.

An electrifying kind of buzz brims the room with barely contained excitement. It’s one of the lasts concerts for this part of the tour. There’s happiness in everyone’s faces, but the glee in their eyes are overshadowed by a thin blanket of nostalgia from what’s about to end. 

Moments like this one, they’re only meant to be lived once. And then the memory gets stored at the front of your mind for rainy days.

The momentum is lost on Lucas and Eliott. The end of the tour is the furthest thing in their minds as Lucas slams Eliott against the door of a spare backroom. Their bodies thrum with excitement, their fronts throb with impatience, and it has little to do with the show they have to put on in twenty minutes.

“Fuck.” Eliott gasps, and Lucas steals it right out of his mouth with his lips.

“You really had to wear this fucking shirt, huh?” Lucas says, fumbling with the button of Eliott’s jeans. The black sleeveless t-shirt is tucked into his jeans, making Lucas go mad since the moment he had stepped into backstage. He pulls it out carelessly, running the palm of his hands over the defined muscles of Eliott’s abdomen after. “God, you’re hot.”

“We have twenty minutes.” Eliott gets out through heavy breaths. His mouth his tinted pink, matching Lucas’ own lips, he’s sure, shiny with wet spit after Lucas had pressed him to the nearest corner when no one was looking. “I know you hate me right now, but there’s really, really no time for foreplay.”

Lucas drops to his knees. “Okay,” he says, and hooks his fingers on the waistband of Eliott’s underwear, pulling them down. Kissing Eliott’s thigh, he puts his mouth around Eliott.

"God." Eliott mutters. Lucas bobs his head, taking as much of Eliott as he can, letting Eliott’s hand on his hair guide him. “God, go faster.”

So Lucas does. 

He swirls his tongue around Eliott’s shaft, kissing and licking at a dizzying pace. Spit pools at his bottom lip and drips from the corner of his mouth, Eliott’s noises mixing with his own as he swallows him down faster. With one hand he reaches behind Eliott’s dick, drawing a feathery line down the inside Eliott’s thigh, right by his groin, because he knows that’s where Eliott is most sensitive, and Eliott yells.

“Fuck! I-”

Lucas pulls out with a loud pop. "Say it."

It takes a second for the words to register in Eliott’s brain. He looks down at Lucas with glassy eyes, and Lucas sees his jaw working wordlessly before Eliott is whispering a confused little "what?"

"My name.” Lucas says. He bites at the top of Eliott’s thigh before licking over the bruise. “Say it."

Eliott’s mouth falls shut. 

Lucas huffs, impatient, and takes Eliott in his hand, brushing his thumb over Eliott’s sensitive head. It punches a wet gasp out of Eliott, his fingers in Lucas’ hair tightening his grip, but he stays silent.

“You never say my name like this.” Lucas complains, moving his hand up and down Eliott’s dick. His free hand moves between his legs, and he palms himself as more noises come out of Eliott’s mouth. But never his name. "Why won't you ever use my name?" 

"I do. Fuck, don’t stop-” Eliott wheezes. “Not often, but I do."

Lucas twists his wrist, growling. "Why?"

Eliott’s moan is loud. He joins Lucas’ hand on his dick, intertwining their fingers. There’s precome wetting Lucas’ hand, and their joined hands on Eliott’s dick make noise when they pick up speed. 

"Because,” Eliott stutters. “Because I'm afraid.” He voice comes out weak and his thighs tremble when Lucas’ grip tightens. “That once I start saying it, I will never stop."

Eliott comes in Lucas’ hand. His back hits the door loudly, and his hair falls over his forehead in damp strands. He’s beautiful, Lucas thinks. He’s so fucking beautiful.

And he doesn’t get to have it.

Lucas stands on wobbly legs and a heavy heart. He looks at Eliott, and-

"Would that really be so bad?" He asks in a small voice.

A yell from the hallway makes him jump. His hand burns when it leaves Eliott’s waist, and  his heart pumps red blood to his cheeks at a painful pace. 

He holds his breath, waiting for the downfall. And when he remembers that he doesn’t have to do that anymore - that the world doesn’t stop spinning, and the ground doesn’t burn down just because he likes sucking his friend’s dick, he curses under his breath.

Eliott gives him a sad smile. "You tell me."

Lucas doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

The city that never sleeps, Lucas thinks. What a sleepless city for a sleepless boy.

New York makes Lucas wonder what he’s so afraid of.

[quixotic-writer]

Right Through the Very Heart of it

A request sent in by: the lovely @birdgirl1772 !

Summary: A girl’s trip to New York is not what you had in mind for a girl’s trip, a trip to the clubs was also not what you had in mind for your second night in the city. When things begin to spiral out of control, the compassion of two strangers named Joe and Q will change your mind just a bit.

———————————————————

The city that never sleeps: New York, New York. This is the destination of our girl’s trip vote and one I think i’ll probably hate the most. I was the only one that voted against it wanting instead to go to Seattle and just have a relaxing, calm, slow paced trip. Here I am now, shuffling desperately through my luggage to find a dress to wear for a trip to the clubs tonight trying to buy myself more time to mentally prepare myself for this evening’s antics. I tried protesting that as well. I insisted we could opt for something more my speed like a broadway show instead, but Ari and Bella just wouldn’t budge and that I HAVE to go. Clubbing it was for tonight’s activity then I guess. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t just my trip, they deserve their share of activities too.

“Come on girlll, pick a dress so we can gooo!” Bella calls from the couch of the hotel room, already dolled up in her midnight blue skin tight dress, raven black hair curled up in loose waves. Her legs dangled off the arm of the couch and she scrolled through her phone.

“Is it a las vegas extravaganza sparkly red night, or is it a sleek black dress kinda night?” I ask over to Ari who is busy looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. She adjusts her wine red dress and teases at her blond hair. She makes her way over to me and peers over my shoulder as she looks at the two lovely dresses I had in each hand. Her eyes narrow as her gears go in her head.

“Black dress, always made you look super hot. Simple is nice y’know, guys like simple especially in a place where everything is complicated.” I wasn’t really looking to get lucky tonight, just mingle and see if anyone sticks out. I shove the red dress back into my luggage and bring out the black spaghetti strap ruched dress holding it up to get a good look at it. I don’t think I ever got a chance to wear this at home, maybe tonight is a night of trying to be an upgraded version of myself. Ari made a good decision, this was probably more New York speed than the other one. “Now don’t be too long getting ready, the fun is waiting for you!” I roll my eyes and step into the bathroom to get myself all gussied up.

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, feeling clean and collected, Ari and Bella’s eyes widen and so did their smiles. I give them a whole 360 spin to show off all the goods I got going. I lacked self confidence, but the energy they had buzzing was enough to get me going.

“Look at you baby girl. If I was a lesbian or a guy, i’d eat you up that’s how good you look.” Bella exclaims.

“Girl I would not want to leave the club without getting your number if I saw you. You look HOT!” Ari chimes in. I feel my confidence soar and I felt a lot better than I did earlier.

“Well, let’s head out then ladies!” The girls hoot and holler as we get our shoes on for the night. Despite the good vibes we had going, deep inside I feel a sense of unease in the pit of my stomach, but I play it off as nerves. It’s been a while since i’ve been able to have fun so i’m determined to have fun tonight, dance with my girls, meet someone, get a little loose. I’ve been so uptight all the time that maybe decompressing and letting go is what my spirit craves and needs.

We walk down the crowded streets of times square, the lights of the signs are so bright it almost seems like it’s still daytime. The streets are packed with people who have somewhere to be, zany street performers doing their thing with swarms of people around them, cars that never stop honking, and people never stop shouting. People kept bumping into me, cat calling after me, and staring. It’s all starting to get a little overwhelming and I feel a sense of dread rising deep in the lowest part of my abdomen and my chest. It all slowly started building and nearly becoming too much for my senses and I tried to ignore the instinct to run back to the hotel room and hide under the covers for the rest of the night.

“Guys? How much farther? Getting a little cramped and anxious here.” I ask as we keep our stride down the side walk, men yelling obscenities to us with a hunger for exotic attention.

“Just another block and around the corner. Don’t get yourself so wound up already, our night is only beginning!” Ari grabs my arm and links it with hers, my feet stumble trying to keep up, but I push forward anyway. Just one good night is all I want.

We finally find the place Ari had been raving about this morning and we stepped inside. Loud music flooded my ears, dim lighting was a change from outside, the seats at the bar are half full, and there are people everywhere chattering away. It seemed like an average bar to me, not sure what there is to rave about like Ari had.

“I need a drink.” I say as I start making a straight shot to the bar. Maybe a drink and a small buzz will help ease my nerves, get me going for the night and keep whatever energy in me alive.

“There’s the party girl we’ve been searching for!” The girls follow me to the bar and we all take a seat, a bar tender with glasses and of seemingly Puerto Rican decent smiles and comes over to get our drinks.

“Back so soon Ari? And I see you brought some friends as well!” He greets us warmly and is already preparing a drink in front of us.

“Of course, last night was fun and I knew I had to bring my girls. Ladies, this is Sal! He runs this ship and sure knows how to make a hell of a drink.” We both smile and introduce ourselves as he slides Ari her drink. “You remembered the drink I got last night? This guy is fucking incredible.” He look proud of himself as he raises his eyebrows and smiles.

“So what can I get for you ladies?”

“Long island iced tea please.” I shoot out immediately, both Ari and Bella turn to look at me shocked. I’m not really one for drinks, let alone some of the stronger ones.

“Damn girl, you’re just diving in aren’t you? If that’s the pace for the night: can I get a screwdriver please.” Sal nods and begins making our drinks. In the meantime I look to others around the bar and I notice Ari had peeled away and wandered off to talk to a guy at the end of the bar with her drink in hand. She has her flirty face on, guess I won’t bother her for the rest of the night.

Sal places my drink in front of me and I take a long sip hoping that the alcohol in this drink will kick in soon. It warms my esophagus as it goes down and I already feel that I might regret this drink later. I sit at the bar and watch silently as Sal and Bella chat away. I was off in my own head trying to block out any bothersome and intrusive negative thoughts. Any thought that came to mind, I took another sip of my drink until I had either drowned the thought out or had nothing else in my glass. I eventually reached a point where I started eating the ice in my glass to sop up whatever alcohol was hiding in there.

“C’mon! Let’s go dance!” Bella grabs me by my arm almost making me bump my empty glass off the counter top. We shuffle over to the open space that was occupied by fellow drunk patrons moving to the music and Bella starts grooving immediately, swaying her hips in smooth motions feeling the rhythm and matching tempo to the tunes that poured into the room. I, on the other hand, tried dancing but I moved in stiff awkward motions, feeling uncomfortable and scared to accidentally bump into anyone around me for fear of it turning into a confrontation.

Before I knew it, Bella had managed to slowly peel away just as Ari had and was off dancing with some other guy and we started drifting away further, and further from each other until I was virtually on my own. I felt sense of regret and dread pounding at my lungs like someone had punched me straight in my sternum and bruised my ribs.

“I don’t belong here.” I say quietly to myself as I stood completely still feeling isolated from the social circle around me. Everything felt like a blur around me, faces seemed like smeared oil paintings, the lights felt brighter than the sun, and the room felt like it was spinning. My lungs felt as though they had stopped working and I was beginning to drown in the warm air of body heat.

“Hey there hottie.” I see a guy start approaching me, already I felt uncomfortable around him. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I wanted space, I wanted to be alone, I wanted out of here. I have a glazed over look in my eyes and he just ignores all signals to shut him down and keeps on pursuing me. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” He tries to grab for my hips to dance and make a move, but I quickly bat his hands off of me back away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” I say defensively and my fight or flight kicks in as I slightly raise my arms should I need to defend myself. My nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and shame washes over me as I realize tonight was a wash and that I just want to go back to the hotel more than anything. I kept denying myself my own comfort and here I am now in a situation I feel as though I can’t escape. A confrontation I feared in a place i’ve never been to began unravelling before me.

“What’s you’re deal psycho? Can’t a guy just dance with a girl?” He raises his voice and steps a little closer to me. I immediately mentally shut down and I felt as though I was dissociating and off on a whole different plane of existence.

“Hey buddy, back off and leave her alone. She’s obviously not interested.” An older looking guy with spiked up gray and white hair steps in and chases the guy off. He turns to me and rolls his eyes. “The nerve of some people. Are you okay? You looked a little anxious and I wanted to make sure you felt safe. Name’s Joe by the way!” He asks with concern riddling his face. I couldn’t speak, my voice felt trapped in my throat and everything around me began overloading all my senses until my legs gave out and I was left on the floor shaking feeling helpless.

Immediately Joe sprung into action dropping to his knees next to me and supporting me up so I didn’t fall back any more. He looks around to the oblivious crowd that felt like walls closing in on me.

“Hey! Hey! Give her some space, back up!” He waves his hands gathering everyone’s attention. The crowd turns to me and immediately part to create a circle of space and safety around me. I hugged all my limbs in tight close to me, I looked around frightened as tears tracked down my face. I felt mortified, I was making a huge scene. “Okay, take a moment breathe, I know someone who can help. Q! get your ass over here, got a situation!” He rests his hands on my shoulder to stable me and it felt warm and I felt solace in it.

l had sealed my eyes shut trying to block out the overwhelming number of faces and eyes on me. When I opened them and looked up again, another guy with short salt and pepper hair, a scruffy beard and mustache, and sleepy looking eyes steps into the ring. I assume he’s Q. He kneels down next to Joe and in front of me. They start talking to each other and I can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but they both occasionally look over to me so I assume Joe is filling him in on my unfortunate circumstance. Once they’re done talking, they both redirect their attention back to me.

“It’s okay, he was a firefighter, he knows how to help.”

“Hey, not trying to be a wise ass but you’re having an anxiety attack right now. What we need to try first is steady your breathing, okay? Take in a slow deep breath through your nostrils, hold it for a couple of seconds, then slowly exhale through your mouth. Let’s do it together.” He removes his jacket and places it on me as he speaks in a calm tone, his eyes never leaving mine. He begins the exercise and I follow as he does, I felt tension inside me slowly begin to release. Joe never left my side through the whole process, he speaks calmly repeating over and over “steady, steady. you’re doing great.” and other sweet messages as he lightly rubs up and down my back providing father like comfort to me.

“Okay, now that you’re breathing is a little more steady, let’s get you grounded. Tell me some of your favorite things, anything. A place, colors, flowers, just keep going okay. It’ll help distract your mind.” I nod as I was finally able to catch my breath.

“Carnations are my favorite flower... I love spring time... Royal blue is my favorite color with lavender being right under it... My favorite animal is a jellyfish because they look pretty...” I continue listing things and it helps take my mind off of everything that just happened as I try and think of the next thing to add to my list. Soon the sense of panic that was pounding in my chest eased away. The moment I feel 100% better again, I finish off my list. Q smiles to me and so does Joe.

“You did great. Are you feeling well enough to get back up on your feet?” He outstretches his hand and I take his hand. He lifts me back up to my feet and he walks me over to the bar. Everyone else around us went about their business as though I didn’t freak out at all. “Maybe stay away from alcohol for the rest of the night, stick to water. Sal! A water for the pretty lady!” Joe slides a small stack of napkins to me.

“I’m not trying to be rude sweetie, you just cried a bit and I want you to be able to touch yourself up.” He gives a soft smile. I take the napkins and wipe up underneath my eyes. When I look at the napkins I see all my makeup wiped up on it, most of which was some mascara that seemed to stream off my eyes. Sal places a glass of water in front of me and looks me in my eyes with the same look of concern Joe and Q had given me during my break down.

“Where’d your friends go? You doing okay?” He asked leaning over the bar.

“Don’t know where they are, but I think I made some new ones.” I say smiling to the men that surrounded me. “Thanks for helping me out, I don’t even know what happened.”

“It was the right thing to do, I wasn’t gonna let some random guy harass a woman who was clearly not comfortable with him. I’d be pissed if someone did that to my wife or daughter.” Joe says with a slight twinge of anger in that last sentence.

“You needed help, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all need a little help sometimes.” Q says raising his own glass of water to his statement. I smile and awkwardly chuckle as I raise my glass with him.

The rest of my night was spent with Joe, Q, and Sal (when he wasn’t serving drinks). We talked the whole night away about why I ended up on a trip to New York, I talked about my home town and they talked about Staten Island being theirs, and childhood stories and tales from adulthood were shared as well. It was simple, sober, clean fun. It was all I really wanted from tonight.

Joe eventually left to go home, I bid him farewell and gave him a great big hug. Q and I were left at the bar to continue chatting away, and I gotta say, he was really charming and dare I say kind of cute. We laughed together for what felt like forever and I didn’t want it to end. To think, just an hour or so ago, I just wanted to be in the hotel bed watching shitty movies by myself. All good things must come to an end though, as it started getting a little late, my eyes grew a bit heavy. It eventually became too much to ignore and it wasn’t in my agenda to fall asleep in a bar I just had an anxiety attack in.

“I think I should head back to my hotel room and call it a night. That anxiety attack really wiped me out.” I let out a small yawn.

“Let me drive you back then, I don’t want you taking a cab alone or walking the streets this late at night.”

“You’re not like an axe murderer are you?” I joke with him.

“No I am not. I’m too stupid to get away with murder anyway.” He retorts back.

“Well I just don’t want you going out of your way...” I felt bad, I had burdened him enough with having to deal with my anxiety debacle.

“It’s no problem, let’s get you the hell out of here.” We both say our good bye’s too Sal and head out to find Q’s car. We finally stumble upon the cherry red jeep and I feel surprised to see it. “Are you judging my vehicle choice?” He cocks his eyebrows and smiles.

“It’s just such a loud color for such a seemingly calm and soft guy.” I tease. We hop in and headed out on the road. It was a short ride but it also felt long because of how tired I was. I leaned against the frame of the window, resting my head feeling the sleepiness slowly starting to take more and more control. Q tried helping me out by blasting some up beat music and giving me a special performance by singing along to all the tracks. He was just too cute.

When we reached the hotel, he parked the car and hopped out with me and took his time to walk me all the way back to my room. It’s small gestures that mean the world to me and that show that someone cares, and Q was clearly someone who cares. It felt crazy and in my head all I wanted to spend more time with him. We reach the front of my door and I turn to him and smile as I rub the sleep from my eyes trying to stay coherent for just a little longer.

“I can’t thank you enough for tonight.” I say bashfully as I hug my arms around my body. It was then I remembered something: “Oh my god, i’m sorry I still have your jacket!” I start frantically removing it but he stops me.

“Keep it for now, gives me an excuse to see you again. Which, speaking of...” He brings his phone out from his pocket and hands it to me. “If you don’t mind, i’d love to get to talk to you more and maybe see you again while you’re here. I had a great time tonight.” I gladly take his phone and input all my information. I see as he watches with a big grin on his face. I hand him back his phone and unlock my room door.

“Thank you again, Q.” I say softly. I caress his face and bring it in placing a tiny kiss on his cheek.

“Not even on the lips?” He jokes.

“Give’s you something to look forward to.” I wink at him and I see his face tint pink. “Get home safely.” I say as I begin to retreat into the room.

“I’ll message you tomorrow. Good night!” We both smile to each other and I head inside. I cover my face with my hands, smiling into them as my heart explodes with joy. I throw myself onto the bed and stare at the ceiling as fireworks go off in my head. For such a shitty night, it was the best i’ve had in a while.

[nkp1981]

Part 5 of a story with an angry cook named Joe and a quiet book nerd named Nicky

Part 4 can be read here: https://bit.ly/3dP6OMw

The library became their own little world and they only left it, when they needed to take a shower, make some food,  take a walk around the block, which normally happened right after Joe came home from work, which Joe had started to hate even more now, but he knew that Andy would keep an eye on Nicky for him.

“Andy, can I ask you for a last favor?” Nicky asked, when Joe one day were forced to take a late shift at the diner. “A last one? That’s new.” Andy joked and looked up from her phone, but the look on Nicky’s face told her he meant it seriously. “Anything, kiddo.” Andy said and put her phone in the pocket. “Make sure that Joe is never alone again if anything happens to me.” Nicky said after he had searched to find the right words. “I promise you that, Nicolo. You have my word.” Andy replied and Nicky knew she would keep the promise no matter what, and Andy suddenly realized that Nicky for once had started to think about his future, which scared her, because she preferred the quiet boy with his nose in a book. “When is Joe back?” Andy wanted to know in an attempt to change the subject. “In two hours. Go, you got your own plans, right?” Nicky asked with a mischievous smile. “Stop it, young man, but first let us check your blood sucker, then I decide whether to leave or not.” Andy replied and took the glucometer. A half hour later Andy left and texted Joe, that everything was ok, and that Nicky had fallen asleep.

When Joe came home, he saw a plate with sandwiches on the countertop with a note from Nicky that said: “Never gonna be a great cook, but I do know how to make strawberry jam sandwiches.” Which made Joe smile, so he took one bite but had to spit it out, because his mouth was on fire. After drinking the last of the milk, he saw the jar, Nicky had thought was strawberry jam and started to laugh, because it was the jar with harissa paste and made a mental note, that he should probably start to translate, what was in every jar that had Arabic writing on it in case Nicky wanted to make more sandwiches in the future.

After having washed himself and changing the shirt, Joe made his way into the library, where he saw Nicky on the sofa, who was twisting and turning obvious having a nightmare, so he kneeled down next to the sofa, where he gently ran a couple of fingers through Nicky’s hair. “Hey, easy now. It’s only me.” Joe said in a calm tone, and when Nicky saw Joe, he clung to him and tried to breathe normally again. “What did you dream about?” Joe wanted to know and cupped Nicky’s cheek for the first time, which Nicky leaned into. “The shelter. I don’t seem to shake it off.” Nicky replied in a sad tone. “You aren’t going back to that place as long, I got something to say about it, so I truly hope that you will stay here with me.” Joe said with a small hope in voice, which only grew, when Nicky placed a finger under Joe’s chin and pulled him in for a kiss. “Sorry, I..” Nicky said, but before he could finish the sentence, Joe kissed him, before he leaned his forehead against Nicky’s, while they both giggled a bit like schoolgirls. “Come, I keep you safe.” Joe promised after a bit and pulled Nicky with him down on the sofa, where he took around Nicky. They once again found each other’s hands in the darkness, where they merged their fingers. “Nicky, do you want to go on a date with me?” Joe asked after a bit. “I thought, you would never ask.” Nicky replied and looked up at Joe with a smile in his eyes. “How were the sandwiches?” Nicky wanted to know and Joe, who’s mouth still was a bit on fire from eating harissa paste. “It was a culinary experience.” Joe replied leaving Nicky a bit confused over how strawberry jam sandwiches could be that. “But I suggest we eat out tomorrow.” Joe added and kissed Nicky again. “I got an idea, but it is a bit from here.” Nicky suggested with a secret smile, that told Joe, he was in for something good. “If you know the place, I’ll get a car, so we can get there.” Joe replied and started to run his fingers through Nicky’s hair, when Nicky laid his head on Joe’s chest. It didn’t take long before Nicky was sleeping, and Joe thought as the last thing, before he also fell asleep, that he had never been happier, and for the first time in their life, they both had a decent night's sleep.

In the morning Joe rented a car and they drove north until; they came to a small truck stop in the middle of nowhere. “This is your idea for a date?” Joe asked skeptically when he got out of the car. “Trust me on this.” Nicky replied with a smile and Joe followed inside, where they got a table in the half empty room. “Nicolo! It’s so good to see you.” A woman said in Italic when she saw them. “Likewise, Gina. Is it so that we can get two plates with your gnocchi and a box of sfogliatella with us?” Nicky asked and Gina nodded, before she headed for the kitchen. “Believe it or not but here you get the best Italic food in New York. You just need to ask politely.” Nicky said and took Joe’s hand. “With your personality it isn’t a problem.” Joe replied dried and kissed Nicky’s hand. “Thanks, but you aren’t as bad as you think.” Nicky said with a smile, that somehow made Joe believe in him. “So, how did you find an Italic restaurant in the middle of nowhere?” Joe wanted to know and caressed Nicky’s fingers. “I actually worked here the first summer when I got here just before I started at uni. Not as a cook but as the dishwasher.” Nicky replied and gave Gina a smile when she placed the food on the table. “Actually, I was hoping to get the job as the dishwasher in another diner, when an angry cook shouted at me and I gave up on that idea.” Nicky said after eating the first mouthful and it took Joe a moment, before he realized what Nicky was talking about, but before he could say something, Nicky placed a hand over his. “Don’t think about it anymore, because I know now that the angry cook actually is a very nice cook.” Nicky added and gave Joe’s hand a squeeze. “Tomorrow, I tell my boss, I’ve found a new dishwasher.” Joe said and returned the squeeze. “Bad idea it might end with, that you burn the food, because you can’t keep your eyes from me. No, don’t deny it, Joe. I have seen how your eyes follow me around the room, stalker.” Nicky replied in a teasing tone, that made Joe laugh so loud, that he almost choked in the gnocchi. “Thanks for that, love, I did deserve that, but what are your plans then?” Joe asked interested and drank the rest of the water. “I should really write the rest of my final paper for my bachelor’s degree, so I can get a job, so you don't have to pay for everything. I know, you see it as a way of paying it back for treating me so bad on that day, but Joe I don’t want your money, I want to me with you wherever it might be in the world, so when I’m graduate in August, you should quit your job and we find a place of our own.” Nicky said in a warm welcoming tone and held his hand out as an invitation, which Joe took without any hesitation. “That’s a deal and can’t wait. Actually, I think, there’s an old typewriter somewhere in one of the boxes if you want to use it.” Joe offered and caressed Nicky’s fingers again. “Well, it’s better than writing the paper in the hands.” Nicky replied, and they continued talking for hours and for them both this was the best date in their life. When they had eaten, Nicky took the box, Gina handed him. “Thanks, what do I owe you?” Nicky asked in italic. “Nothing, this is on me, but you can always come back and you can pay by washing the dishes.” Gina replied with laughter in her voice.

“Come, I got something, I want to show you.” Nicky said and Joe took the box from him, so he could take around Nicky as they walked. “This is one of my favorite places. It reminds me of a spot back home in Genova.” Nicky said, when they sat down on a log, where they could see New York in the distance. “What spot?” Joe wanted to know and took one of the sfogliatella, while Nicky found a photo in his jacket. “As a kid it was one of my favorite spots in the world, because you could see Genova in the distance. I sneaked into the garden and could spend hours sitting in the grass with a book, because it felt like a home to me until I got caught by the owner, who dragged me back to the monks, who scolded me, that I should show some respect for another man’s property. It’s a shame that the house burned down.” Nicky explained and leaned into Joe’s shoulder. “Promise me to show it, when we go to Genova.” Joe said and Nicky promised him it. They sat on the spot until the cold set in and went back to the apartment, where they made love for the first time.

They woke around noon the next day and after laying a bit adjusting to the daylight, before they took a shower, but when Nicky wanted to make a sandwich, Joe took the jar out of Nicky’s hand. “Not this one.” Joe said and handed Nicky another jar. “Why?” Nicky wanted to know, and reluctant Joe told Nicky, that it was harissa paste and not jam. “I’m really sorry.” Nicky said and looked even more sorry. “In a way, we’re even now. I put too much salt in the cake and you used harissa paste.” Joe replied and pulled Nicky in for a kiss. After eating breakfast, they started to search for the typewriter. “What’s in all of those boxes?” Nicky wanted to know when he saw the room had boxes from floor to ceiling. “The last stuff from my parents, that I never have gotten around to look through and my own stuff.” Joe replied and started to move some of the boxes. “No, no not that one.” Joe said frantic, when Nicky opened one of the boxes, but it was too late, because Nicky had found all the drawings Joe had made of Nicky. “Did you make these?” Nicky asked impressed and looked through them. “Can’t deny it.” Joe replied and explained it was his way of remembering Nicky. “Why are you cooking and not drawing? I mean, you should go to art school or something.” Nicky wanted to know, which was not the reaction Joe had expected from Nicky. “According to my father a man shouldn’t draw, because you can’t earn a living on it.” Joe replied and continued with looking through the boxes. “Joe, look at me.” Nicky said and it took Joe a moment before he did it. “You’re not your father but you and is it not about time, you stop listening to a dead man and follow your own dreams?” Nicky asked and it was the first time someone had asked the question out loud, that had been roaming around Joe’s head ever since his parents died. “I will do that when you graduate. Found it.” Joe replied triumphant over finding the typewriter. When Joe stood in the library, he realized that Nicky hadn’t followed him and it took a minute, before Nicky joined him. “I want you to draw, while I write or else you can sleep alone.” Nicky said and handed Joe some papers and coal. It was the first time anyone had made an ultimatum in Joe’s life. “Fine.” Joe replied, took the paper and sat down on the floor, while Nicky took one of the stools that were in the library and used the window sill as a makeshift desk, before he started to write.

Often during the next couple of weeks, Joe walked into the library after work to find the floor covered in papers, Nicky had written, while Joe was gone. “Don’t move.” Nicky said with panic in his voice from behind and started to collect the papers in an order, that didn’t make sense to Joe. “Are you writing a paper or a book?” Joe joked, because he had seen how the stack with papers had grown day by day. “Actually both. Did you get them?” Nicky wanted to know and looked briefly at Joe, before returning to collecting his papers and Joe held up the color typewriter ribbon. “Fantastic. You’re the best.” Nicky said grateful and gave Joe a smile. “You do know it took me the better of two hours to find them.” Joe complained without sounding sorry. “When I’m finished with this chapter, I’ll repay you.” Nicky promised and took the ribbons from Joe, before kissing him. “Can’t wait. I’m gonna make dinner, so you can get finished with this.” Joe replied and looked at Nicky, who was spinning around in the search for a page. 

That was the last day of the good days, because after that all Nicky wanted was to sleep. On the second day Joe got worried and called Andy, so she could check if they had done it correctly with managing Nicky’s diabetes and medicine. “Joe, he needs to go to the hospital. I think it’s his heart.” Andy said, while trying not to sound too worried. “I can call the ambulance if you want.” Andy offered and placed a hand on Joe’s arms, who was deep in his thoughts. “Let me. It’s better if it’s me, he is angry at for taking him back to the hospital.” And went over to sit next to Nicky and took his hand, while Joe made the most difficult phone call in his entire life. 

“Did you understand me? He might only have days left.” The Doctor said and looked at Joe, who was looking at Nicky. “Will an operation help?” Joe asked in a desperate hope, that it would mean he could keep Nicky a bit longer. “No sadly not. All we can do is to offer pain relief.” The Doctor replied and Joe nodded, before he walked into the room, where he took Nicky’s hand. “What are you doing?” Nicky asked in a tired tone when he saw Joe with the mobile phone. “Calling my lawyer so he can find a better Doctor.” Joe replied, but before he could make the call Nicky placed a hand over it. “Joe listen to me. You have to accept that money can’t buy you everything, you want, and I prefer to spend my last days without being a guinea pig but with you and Andy somewhere else than here, because I don’t want to die in a hospital.” Nicky said and cupped Joe’s cheek, who for the first time in his life started to cry. “Where do you want to go?” Joe muttered with a broken voice. “I want to see some water.” Nicky replied and Joe started to think like a mad. “Only if Andy says yes, ok?” Joe said and looked at Andy, who nodded. “I’ll help you.” Andy said and took the other chair. “Anything else?” Joe wanted to know and ran a couple of fingers through Nicky’s hair. “Maybe this is bad timing, but I want to marry you.” Nicky muttered, before he closed his eyes and Joe kissed Nicky on the forehead. “Off course, I will marry you.” Joe whispered and kissed Nicky once again on the forehead. “I could find the hospital priest if you want to, while you find a place for us, but remember it needs to be big enough for the medical equipment.” Andy said and Joe nodded, so while he made the call to Le Livre, Andy went searching for the priest.

It took only Le Livre a couple hours to find a house for Joe near the ocean with the promise that it would be ready the next morning with everything they needed. When Nicky woke a couple of hours, he looked at Joe and Andy, who were talking. “I hope it isn’t me, you are talking about.” Nicky joked, which made them both smiles. “We’ll be leaving, when the ambulance is ready, but first let’s fulfill one of your wishes if you meant, what you said about marrying me, because you need to know, that I’ve a habit of shouting and stalking people.” Joe joked, which made Nicky laugh. “I can live with that, but I don’t want to get married in a hospital gown.” Nicky replied and looked down at it with the same look in his eyes back then. “That’s why, I bought this.” Joe said and found the sweater Nicky loved. “Thanks.” Nicky replied gratefully and let Andy help him the sweater on before the hospital priest married them. That was the last time Nicky sat up.

They got eight days in the summerhouse, where Andy and Joe sat at Nicky’s bed taking turns to read books for him even though, he wasn’t much awake and when he was, they both promised to look after each other in the future, because that was the only thing on his mind, that they shouldn’t be alone again. “Hey!” Joe said with a smile when Nicky looked at him with a different look than before an early morning. “Andy? Do you mind opening the window?” Nicky asked tired and Andy stood up to open the window and looked out on the horizon.“Hey love don’t be sad; I’ll never leave you for good, and we’ll see each other one day again. Do you remember what I told you about the wind?” Nicky asked with a smile. “That it’s you, who stalks me for a change.” Joe replied and cupped Nicky’s cheek and took a firm grip around the other hand. When the wind hit Andy’s face the heart monitor made a sound that told them that Nicky had died, which left them both heartbroken in different ways. 

my creation         

[im-a-star-boy]

Harry Osborn, 13, 1, 16 for the drabble game, please and thank you~

Ah yes, it’s taken ridiculously long for me to make this, but IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! Just so you know, in this fic, being soulmates doesn’t exactly mean being in a relationship, so yeah. Here it is!

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

A loud blaring noise filled the dark, barren room, startling Harry awake. He coughed slightly, the red string tied around his finger wrapped around his throat and choking him slightly. He unwrapped himself and yawned, stretching his sore muscles out. He glanced at the clock. 5:00 flashed in bright red, blocky numbers, as the windows slowly opened to reveal the still-dark purple skyline of a New York City morning. He stood up and began making his way towards the closet, before tripping over the soft red string. He cursed loudly as he fell face-first onto the blue-grey plush rug. He rolled over and glared at the string. "You're just gonna cause all types of problems for me today, aren't you?" He muttered aloud, tugging it playfully.

He got up again and made his way to the closet, feeling drained as he opened the doors. Even when looking past tripping on the string, he could tell today was going to be a very, very long day. He pulled his pajama shirt off as he picked out a comfortable long-sleeved white shirt. He had repeats of several shirts, most of them were different fabrics, however, and he pulled it over his head. He pulled out a separate sweater, a dark blue one, and pulled on black jeans. He looked through his closet, debating on whether to wear casual tennis shoes or his dress shoes. He decided to wear the dress shoes, knowing that his father would have him switch the shoes even if he did decide to wear tennis shoes.

He pulled out his collar and strode towards the bathroom, styling his hair back as usual. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, preparing for the rest of the day. He spent a moment, admiring the red string on his finger, before turning and beginning to leave, tripping over the string again. He screeched, catching himself before he hit the ground, and struggled to his feet again. "Wow okay you're just really gonna be a bitch today, aren't you?"

He made his way out of the room, keeping the red string's trail in his gaze. He made his way to the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal. The penthouse was unsettlingly quiet as he ate while leaning against the counter, refusing to sit. After he finished, he rinsed out the bowl in the sink and washed it, placing it in the dishwasher, before washing his hands and gathering his-over-the-shoulder bag. He glanced at the clock and startled as he realized he only had a few minutes to get out.

He quickly grabbed a few items he needed, before making his way to the elevator and descending to the first floor to meet his driver, Bernie. He sat down, making himself comfortable as he looked through each of his folders, making sure he had everything. As he checked over his completed homework, he cringed at how difficult it was to hold the paper. He returned the paper to the folder and began searching his bag for his hand lotion. When he couldn't find it in the usual pocket, he began frantically searching through other pockets. When he couldn't it, he groaned loudly. Bernie glanced into the mirror. "Is something wrong?" He asked.

Harry shook his head. "I just forgot my hand lotion and my hands are really dry today."

"Do you want me to turn around?"

"No, it's not the end of the world." He replied, shaking his head.

After a moment, Bernie nodded. He continued the long, tedious drive to Midtown, and when he pulled up, Harry had to convince himself to leave the car and begin the day. After a few moments, he pulled himself out of the car, closing the door. He let out a long sigh as he approached the gates to hell. Oh, my bad, school. He could feel people's prolonged gazes on him as he stepped down the halls, mentally preparing himself for the day.

The first periods passed without a hitch, they were long though. Too long for Harry's enjoyment. As lunch rolled around, he was quick to make his way out of the school to Joe's.

As he strolled down the street, he heard a loud curse from somewhere behind him, before feeling his foot catch on the red string. He screamed as he fell face-first for the third time that day. He quickly rolled over, untying himself, before feeling it tug. He glanced up to see an unfamiliar boy doing something similar, sitting down on the ground and untying a red string from around his legs. He felt his breath hitch as he tugged it lightly. The boy stopped and looked up and the two met each others' eyes for a moment.

Harry felt his heart skip a beat as the boys' shining green eyes met his blue-grey ones. The boy seemed to have the same realization as him as he looked down at the string, then at him again, before gasping loudly. "SOULMATE?!" He shrieked.

Harry laughed ridiculously. "UM?! HI?" He choked out through his laughter.

The boy was quick to untangle himself before quickly standing up and assisting Harry to his feet. "I- uh, hello? My name... I'm Peter?" He managed to say.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his face flush. "Uh- yes, hello, I-I'm, my name is Harry." He stuttered out.

The two stood there for a moment, not entirely sure what to do. Finally, Harry took a breath. "Uh, I'm on lunch break, wanna umm... wanna go with me? To Joe's?" He offered.

His soulmate, Peter, swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, uh yeah okay. L-lead the way."

Harry motioned him to follow and began towards Joe's, thankful that the small coffee shop was close by. After a long, silent walk, the two arrived at the lounge. He held the door for Peter, smiling awkwardly. Peter nodded and thanked him, before closing the door behind them. He watched Peter approach the barstools and slide onto the one nearest the door. Harry stopped beside him. "Wh-what drink do you want? And what do you want to eat?" He asked.

Peter smiled awkwardly. "What do they serve?"

Harry pointed to the menu above the cash register. Peter facepalmed lightly. "Of course they have a menu- I'm sorry, I'm not usually this stupid..." He trailed off.

Harry felt a pang in his chest. "Hey, no it's not stupidity, you've never been here before." He mumbled, still unsure how to respond to everything.

Another awkward silence overcame them as Peter glanced at the menu. "I-I'll umm... I'll just get a sandwich, chicken, and mayo I guess..."

Harry nodded. "What do you want to drink?"

Peter hummed. "Soda I guess."

In an effort to shake the awkward silence, Harry grinned. "Milkshake it is."

Peter turned to him, his eyes flashing with curiosity. "They have milkshakes?"

Before Harry could finish nodding, Peter continued. "What kind? Do they have strawberry?"

Harry laughed. "I'll go get you one, I'll be right back."

Peter nodded eagerly as Harry approached the counter. He waited for a moment before Joe appeared around the corner. "Hey, Osborn. What's up, you look flustered."

He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "I found my soulmate and I brought him here, and things got really awkward, but I think I managed to break the ice." He replied.

Joe slapped his shoulder affectionately. "Congrats kid, God knows you've been lookin' for him."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Okay, so I'm buying lunch for us. I'll get a strawberry and blueberry milkshake, a chicken and mayo sandwich, a burger, and a boat of fries please."

Joe nodded. "I'll have it out in five, cash or credit?"

"Cash," Harry replied, pulling out his wallet and handing over a 20.

Joe nodded, putting it in the register and pulling out $2.23 in change, handing it back over.

"Thanks, Joe."

"Go on, I got more customers." He snapped playfully.

Harry chuckled and quickly returned to Peter's side. "He'll bring out the food in a second." He said, sliding into a seat beside Peter.

The brunet jumped slightly, before looking up and nodding. "Alright, this is a nice place. How'd you find it?"

Harry shrugged. "School food sucked and I couldn't be bothered to pack a lunch, so I looked for a place nearby and voilà, here I am." He replied cheerfully, motioning to the building around. "It's a great place to calm down at, I come here to study a lot."

Peter nodded curiously. "Well, maybe I should join you. What're you studying?"

"A few different things mostly notes for class and finishing homework. What about you?"

Peter shrugged. "I'm ahead of most of my class so I've kinda just gone along with it until I get to something I don't understand. I mostly just have trouble with my other language classes."

Harry straightened. "Maybe I can help?" He offered.

Peter flushed for a moment, before nodding with a smile. "Sure, it gets boring sometimes."

Harry laughed, the last of his tension fading away. "You can say that again."

Peter smirked. "It gets boring sometimes."

Joe delivered their food before Harry could reply. Peter thanked him and sipped the milkshake excitedly. As he sipped, his face lit up and he pulled away, looking at the cup. "Oh my god, this is amazing." He moaned, before taking another long sip.

Harry laughed. "As I said, the milkshakes here are absolute heaven."

He took a moment to admire Peter's figure. He was slim, attractive, and somehow, he hadn't recognized him. He silently wondered how long he could keep up the facade of being a normal teenage boy, and not the son of the ever famous billionaire, Norman Osborn. He shook his head clear of the thought, before smiling and beginning to eat. He nudged the fries towards Peter, who had begun to dig into his sandwich eagerly. "You can have the fries." He said.

Peter looked up and took a fry, dropping it into his mouth. "You're getting some too, right?"

Harry hummed, swallowing a mouthful of cheeseburger. "Maybe, depends if I'm still hungry after I finish this."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm not gonna eat them if you aren't."

Harry stopped and stared at him, before taking a fry and eating it quietly. "There, I ate one, now you can have the rest."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

The two finished eating, occasionally trading playful banter and small talk. In the time he managed to learn that Peter's name was Peter Parker, his favorite color was red, he was 13, his age, and he was, almost alarmingly smart. His intellect definitely rivaled Harry's and he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it. He's so used to being the smartest one in the room, and now he wasn't, and it was almost thrilling. He felt vibrations go off in his back pocket and he pulled out his phone, cursing softly. "I gotta go, class is starting soon for me."

Peter looked up, looking at the clock on the wall, before nodding. "Same here, we came from the same direction, right? Let's walk together." He offered, throwing the trash into the trash bin.

Harry nodded mutely, doing the same, and following Peter out of the comfortable building. The two walked side by side towards where they had first met, tripping over their strings. Harry laughed softly when they continued going in the same direction. "Where do you go to school?"

"Midtown High,"

He nearly dropped his half-finished milkshake as he sputtered and coughed. Peter glanced up at him. "Are you okay?"

"Oh my God! I go to Midtown too!"

Peter came to a stop. "What?! We've been going to the same school and we've never met?!" He cried out in alarm. "How?!"

"Okay, wait wait wait, okay..." Harry trailed off for a moment, before bursting into laughter. "Well this changes things, we should hang out after school."

Peter hesitated, before nodding. "Y-yeah, that sounds great!"

Harry nodded. "Okay, where do you wanna go?"

Peter hummed for a moment. "I know this little skate park that's usually empty that we can go to, do you know how to skate?"

Harry shook his head. "No,"

Peter grinned. "Looks like I'll have to teach you then, come on, let's get to class. Don't wanna be late." Harry flushed and nodded, a small smile crossing

The walk was quiet and uneventful as they arrived at Midtown High. The two cast each other small glances as the passed through the busying hallways quietly, before reaching a turn. The two stopped and looked at each other, as Peter laughed softly. "I'll, uhh... I'll see you later, I guess, meet me by the statue out front?"

Harry nodded. "I'll see you then, Peter." Harry agreed, a smile crossing his face.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

3 Years Later

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Harry stared at the window quietly. The lotion he used to use constantly remained where it had been the day he had forgotten to bring it to school, the day he had met Peter.

It's been a long year, what with everything that's happened, and horrifying memories remain ever-present in his mind. Especially with learning that the red-and-blue clad vigilante that performed epic stunts and deadly heroism was his small soulmate. He still remembered it like it was yesterday, the Horizon High scholarship program, the one he desperately wanted Peter to take part in so they could continue schooling together, the one that was crashed by the Vulture. He can still remember his exact thought process when had Peter disappeared and when Spider-Man had taken the stage, the crimson string still wrapped around his hand, leading straight to Harry. Initially, Harry had thought that he had two soulmates. There was absolutely no way that this stunt-performing beetleboy was his glasses-wearing asthmatic soulmate.

But only one string remained on his hand, and it led to him.

The argument that had ensued had resulted in a less-than-pleasant separation of the two, one that they had long gotten over at this point, but tension still remained between them. Tension that was finally beginning to drift.

Harry sat on the barstool, sipping his blueberry milkshake quietly, the strawberry milkshake sitting beside him, still full. Peter had arrived and nearly sprinted into the bathroom before Harry could even greet him. He watched the bathroom door in amusement, and after a few moments, Peter emerged, looking thoroughly relieved. He scanned the room for a brief moment, before locking eyes with Harry, his face lighting up happily as he began a quick stride to the seat. He slid up beside Harry, a smile on his face. "Hey, Harry."

"Hey, Pete, you're late, again." He teased.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Blame the bus, they were late and made me miss my train so I had to jog to the next stop to catch the next one."

Harry snorted. "You ran a mile and beat the train to its next stop?" He questioned.

Peter nodded enthusiastically, causing Harry to chuckle lightly. "Okay then, well I got you your usual milkshake." He said, motioning to the glass.

He eagerly sipped the drink. "So, what's up? Usually, we wait until after school to hang out," Peter hummed curiously.

Harry felt his heart rate immediately spike. He had called Peter because he was planning on confessing his feelings to him. However, now he was having second thoughts. His face was bright red as he attempted to gather his thoughts. He swallowed thickly before taking a deep breath. "U-umm... I just wanted to..."

Peter seemed to notice his discomfort as he set down his milkshake. "Are you okay, Harry?" He asked worriedly.

Harry felt his face darken as he immediately looked away, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. "I-I- umm- I was wondering..." He trailed off as he tried to figure out how to ask Peter.

Finally, he set down his drink and grabbed Peter's hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how dry his hands were. "I- uh, I'm sorry, my hands are really dry..." He murmured, pulling his hands away quickly.

Peter reached out and grabbed them. "No, it's okay, what's wrong?" He asked softly, squeezing both of Harry's hands lightly.

Harry looked to his lap, suddenly feeling his chest swell. "I wanted to- I was hoping- do you...  want to- you know... maybe go on a date with me.?" He finally managed out, becoming very quiet at the end.

His silence didn't do much, as Peter's enhanced hearing picked up on it easily. His face turned bright red suddenly and his breath hitched as he released his hands. Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "I-I'm sorry- I shouldn't have-" He began.

Before he could finish, he felt two cold hands grab his cheeks, forcing his head up, then a pair of lips pressed against his. He felt his heart rate suddenly spike as he opened his eyes in alarm, seeing Peter's face close to his. After a few moments, he began kissing back, feeling his entire body practically melt as he rested his hands on Peter's sides. After a long minute, Peter pulled away, taking deep breaths, meeting Harry's flushed expression. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to ask that."

Harry felt a sense of relief overcome him. "You have no idea I've been waiting for me to ask that..." He chuckled lightly. "So, do you want to go on a date?"

Peter shook his head as he laughed. "Was I not clear? Of course, Harry."

Harry leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Peter's lips again. He could get used to this.

[phantasticworks]

If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Twelve

hiii! Thank you for the love on the last chapter, it was so so nice seeing all the kind words! I hope you all are staying safe and staying home, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

read on ao3

Words: 12.5k

Summary: Dan has a bad mental health day. Phil is there to comfort him. 

Warnings for this chapter: swearing, light angst, depressive episodes

It’s a few days later that Dan wakes up with a feeling he hasn’t had in months. Everything is dull, and grey around the edges. He feels every breath he takes in scrape against the walls of his throat, like swallowing cotton balls. Even without opening his eyes, he knows they feel weak, unfocused. He doesn’t even have the energy to be disappointed that he’s having yet another depressive episode, that’s how bad it is. He doesn’t have the energy to feel anything.

He sits in a heavy silence, the emptiness in his head echoing around in his skull. He wonders briefly what time it is, and there’s a stir of something, almost panic, at the idea that he might be late for work, or for taking the kids to school. Even that doesn’t pull him from the fog, and in fact he only feels that he’s sinking deeper into helplessness, uselessness, at the idea that he can’t even get up and do what is required of him for his family.

His family.

He has a family, sort of. Two kids. A partner who isn’t technically his partner in the conventional sense, but his life companion and best friend none the less.

Dan’s mind drifts emptily to a place of guilt, wondering how Phil would feel knowing that he’s poisoned their bed with his cloud of desaturation and nothingness. He wonders if it will annoy him, if this will be the final straw for Phil. Maybe he’ll be mad and yell, or maybe he’ll just be silent in his anger, seething in his head at the fact that his useless flatmate can’t even get out of bed-

Before he can follow that rabbit down the hole of self-loathing, he hears the bathroom door open. Up until then, he hadn’t even realized the bed was empty, or at least he hadn’t been aware enough to care just yet.

He opens his eyes for the first time this morning to watch as Phil steps out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. He doesn’t seem to realize that Dan is awake yet, humming lightly under his breath. Dan can just barely pick out the melody as a One Direction song, but he can’t focus enough to decide which one. His eyes follow Phil as he moves to their dresser, watching as he holds the towel up with one hand, rummaging through one of his drawers with the other.

Dan almost wants to apologize. He’s not sure for what, but right now he just feels useless and heavy and nothing, and Phil is so good, he shouldn’t have to deal with that, it shouldn’t be his problem, he deserves better than-

“Oh, you’re up.” The phrase is said with a tone of surprise, but Dan feels it scrape his ear canal, a bitter undertone Phil doesn’t use lacing the simple phrase that bounces around his empty head after it’s spoken. “It’s early, but I went to sleep so early last night I couldn’t stay asleep any longer. Kind of a bum deal if- Dan?”

Dan has no idea what he did, but he tenses at the sound of his name falling from a worried tongue. He moves his head just enough to make eye contact with blue, blue eyes, blue eyes that look back at him with concern, confusion.

“What’s the matter, babe?” This is delivered softly as Phil takes a step closer to the bed, clothes forgotten on top of the dresser. “Dan?” Alarmed, now, and Dan’s eyes squeeze shut as he lets the tone wash over him. He’s tensed for a fight, for an argument or something. He waits, waits for it to come, but it never does.

Instead, a soft hand falls to his curls, brushing them out of his eyes in soothing sweeps. “Are you ill today?” Phil asks quietly.

“No,” Dan whispers hoarsely, his eyes opening slowly to meet ocean blues.

There’s a brief pause before Phil speaks again. “Would you like some breakfast in bed, lovely?”

The words are sweet, sweet, sweet, and Dan feels nothing.

“No,” he repeats, his vocabulary stripped from everything but the one syllable.

“Dan,” Phil says slowly. “Have you been taking your medicine lately?”

A shrug is all Dan can offer.

“Did you take them last night, at least?”

Dan can’t remember if he had or not. Last night was different than today, he was different last night. He’s almost positive last night wasn’t cold or dark, but today is, and today he can’t remember. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I just don’t--“

“Okay. That’s okay, Dan. You can take it now, yeah?” His voice is softer than the shadows Dan can feel in the corners of his mind, and Dan never wants him to stop talking.

“I- I can’t, it makes me sleepy- I have to- I need to take the twins to school.” He knows this is something he has to do, he knows that, and he knows that if he takes his meds now, he’ll only want to sleep.

“No, I can take the twins to school today. How about you have a day off, hm?” Phil suggests gently, hand still in Dan’s hair.

Dan’s already shaking his head. “I can’t- they need me to-“

“They do, but today it’s okay to let me do some things, alright?”

Dan feels drowsy already, his head is fuzzy and his eyes are tired. He can’t drive, he thinks numbly. He just can’t today. “Can you-“ He cuts himself off, glancing down at Phil’s half-dressed state. “Can we…” He reaches out, the duvet slipping off his shoulder and making him shiver. “Can we have a cuddle?” he pleads.

Phil is quick to nod, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Dan’s forehead before standing up, his hand gripping the towel at his waist. “Okay, let me just put some clothes on. I’ll be right back.”

Dan allows his eyes to close for a moment, but it’s so dark that his eyes fly open once more, staring at the bathroom door as he waits for Phil to reemerge.

Phil walks back out barely a minute later, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. Dan wants to protest that it’s a Tuesday, that Phil has work, that he can’t stay here, but he can’t find his voice. But he can find his hands, and his hands find Phil’s shirt, tugging him closer to the bed with what little strength Dan can muster.

“Big spoon or little?” He asks, gently tugging Dan’s grip on his shirt away so that he can move over to his own side of the bed. He crawls under the duvet, and Dan is silent, unmoving from where he lays facing the bathroom door, listening to the sounds of Phil settling in their bed. Their bed. “Dan? Little spoon today?” He breathes against the shell of his ear.

Dan manages a tiny nod. Phil curls his arm over Dan’s waist, and Dan feels his other arm pressing against the top of his head. “Lift your head, baby.” Dan does as he’s told, and allows Phil’s arm to pillow his head, the position a familiar one for both of them. They’re silent for a moment, but eventually Phil breaks it. “I’ll call Louise and let her know you won’t be in today,” he says softly.

Dan doesn’t have the energy to pretend to be anything other than grateful for that. “Thank you,” he breathes.

Phil presses a kiss to the back of his head. “I’ll take the twins to school in a bit and come back here, alright?”

And Dan knows he should argue with that, but he doesn’t, he can’t, not today. “Okay.”

They lay there for a while, and Dan eventually realizes it must be early if Phil isn’t already getting up to get the twins ready. Almost as soon as the thought enters his mind, Phil leans over him, plucking Dan’s phone from his nightstand to check the time. Dan stares at the lines on the screen, willing them to form numbers, but they don’t.

“I need to go get the kids up for school. Would you like to have some breakfast with us?” He strokes Dan’s arm, his palm warm and soft.

Dan processes the question and finally shrugs. He isn’t hungry, and he doesn’t want to leave his bed, but he wants to see his kids. “I’m a bad father,” he mumbles.

“You are not, Dan.” There is a sharp edge to Phil’s voice, determined and loud in Dan’s fuzzy ears. Phil softens his tone with a brush of his lips to Dan’s curls.

“I’m cold,” Dan announces instead of reply to Phil’s comment.

“I’ll get you my York hoodie and some fuzzy socks. Wait here.” Phil removes his arm and moves to roll away, but in a fleeting moment of panic and everything that masks the nothing, Dan reaches for him.

“No, you,” he protests.

Phil sends him a small smile. “You’ve got me, Bear. But I can’t keep you warm like my hoodie can. Let me get that for you, yeah?”

And that does sound tempting, so Dan lets him go, his eyes rolling back to stare at the bathroom door and nothing again.

Only a few short minutes later, Phil is coming into his line of vision, holding offensively bright green fabric in one hand and a pair of wooly socks in the other. “Sit up for me, love.”

Dan does, slowly. His bones are heavy and hollow, and so is his head. He stares at his knees as Phil crouches, covering his feet with the socks quickly. Dan feels nothing as he watches the concern flit across Phil’s face as he feels how frozen cold Dan’s feet are, and he feels nothing when, after putting the socks on him, Phil lifts each socked foot and rubs them, forcing a warmth Dan doesn’t think he can keep on days like today.

He has Dan lift his arms like a child to put the hoodie on. As soon as Dan’s face has popped free, Phil smiles at him, a soft, kind thing. “Hello, there,” he says softly. He leans in, presses a kiss to the cold tip of Dan’s nose, and Dan feels nothing.

“All done. What do you fancy for breakfast?”

Dan shrugs. “Coffee.”

Phil raises an eyebrow. “Cereal?”

Dan shakes his head.

“Toast, then,” Phil compromises. When Dan begins to shake his head again, Phil cradles his jaw in both hands. “You have to eat to take your meds.”

At that, Dan deflates. He doesn’t bother arguing. On days like today he almost craves the guidance, the help, that Phil provides. It feels safe and comfortable, and it’s everything he desperately needs.

Phil gently pulls him to stand, a hand resting on his back for a brief moment as he waits to see if Dan is going to need further prompting. Apparently, Phil sees something comforting in Dan’s face, as he goes to head to the kitchen, allowing Dan to move forward on his own accord. He knows better than anyone that sometimes the hovering is suffocating. Sometimes it is welcomed with open arms and thanks, but this isn’t one of those times and Dan is grateful for the modicum of space for now.

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to go wake up the kids,” Phil calls softly over his shoulder while turning the kettle on to boil. He’s already filled two mugs with the instant coffee they use, but he eyes them warily before he leaves the room. “I’ll finish making our coffee when I’m back, yeah?”

This is one of those things Dan hates, as obviously he isn’t stupid; he isn’t going to go over and intentionally scald himself. But Phil knows this, he’s only looking out for Dan, only trying to protect him, even from himself. So, Dan doesn’t snark back. He only nods, dropping to sit at one of the chairs at the table, dropping his forehead onto his crossed arms as he waits.

Dan must lose time to the empty kitchen, because the next thing he’s aware of is a cup of steaming coffee being sat in front of him. He follows the arm up to the face of the owner, completely unsurprised when he sees Phil stood there, looking down at him with soft eyes. “I brought you your meds. You need to take it after you eat your toast.”

“Don’t want toast,” Dan mumbles.

Phil sighs. “You have to eat something, Daniel.”

Dan knows from experience that anytime his full name is used, things are serious. He slowly raises his head, lifting his eyes to meet Phil’s. “I don’t want it,” he spits.

There’s a shift in Phil’s expression, his jaw shifting. “Well then you can pick something else, but you have to eat, or your medicine will make you sick.” His voice is softer than his expression, and Dan glances down as Phil’s fist tightens with his poorly-concealed annoyance.

He makes a monumental effort. “Butter and marmalade?” He whispers.

A soft, relieved laugh falls from Phil’s lips. “Yes, of course, love. Whatever you’d like.”

Phil moves away to busy himself with making their breakfast, humming under his breath as he goes. Dan focuses all his energy on listening to the song, his sluggish brain struggling to comprehend what it is. “Can you sing me a song?” He asks suddenly.

There’s a laugh from near the counter, and Dan’s eyes slowly trail over to see Phil placing some bread in the toaster. “Sure. Any requests?”

Dan doesn’t think before he speaks. “Interrupted by Fireworks.”

Phil laughs then, a startled sound. “There aren’t any words to that.”

“Just hum the tune, please.” His voice almost lilts up into a whine as he tries to get his way.

“Sure,” Phil replies, and quietly begins humming it.

Dan closes his eyes as he listens, and if he focuses hard enough, he almost feels warmth seeping into his heart. The song brings back fond memories of when they first met, before then actually. When all they had was formspring posts and Skype sessions. Dan had been convinced he was in love with Phil back then.

“I miss you,” Dan whispers.

“Hm?” Phil responds absently.

“I miss you.”

Phil turns to look at him, quirking an eyebrow at him. “I’m right here, Bear.”

Dan shakes his head. “I miss you when we were younger.”

There’s a conflicted look on Phil’s face. “Like... when we met?”

Relieved that Phil understands, Dan nods. “Yeah. I miss how it felt.”

Phil stares down at the toast he’s buttering, and Dan watches the side of his face. “Yeah?”

Dan props his head up to stare at Phil. He feels drunk on nothing, like he could say anything right now and it wouldn’t matter. That’s a dangerous game though, and he’s just present enough to keep his thoughts to himself. “I miss how it felt to meet you in person for the first time. You gave me the best hug. You always give the best hugs.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Phil stares down at what he’s doing, his shoulders tense. “Dan, I-“

Before he can finish that train of thought, the twins walk into the kitchen, mumbling quietly. Amelia shoves Jaiden and he glares at her, raising his arm to hit her. Phil’s voice interrupts their fight, cutting across the quiet kitchen much louder than he’d been speaking before. “Guys, drop it.”

“Sorry,” Jaiden mumbles before climbing onto his chair. He looks across the table at Dan, his eyes widening. “Are you okay?”

Dan shrugs, too exhausted to speak.

Amelia pauses before she can climb in her chair, staring across at Dan. She glances over at Phil, her face full of concern. “Dad?” She calls quietly.

“Hm?” Phil replies easily.

The child moves around the table to where Dan sits, placing her little hand over one of his larger ones. “Is Daddy okay?”

Phil sighs before walking over to the table and placing his hand in Dan’s curls, scratching his scalp lightly in the way Dan loves. “He doesn’t feel well this morning. So, I’m going to drive you two to school, okay?”

Jaiden is already shaking his head. “Dan always drives us to school. Do you know how to get to our school?”

Dan can’t help but smile a little at that. He turns his head, staring up at his best friend. Phil looks a little startled at the question, and Dan waits patiently for his brilliant response.

“Er- yeah, I do, thank you very much.” Phil rolls his eyes at their son, his eyes full of laughter. “I visit Dan at work all the time, I know your school is right across the street.”

“Miss Cat is going to think we’ve been kidnapped,” Jaiden says solemnly.

“Miss Cat?” Phil asks, sounding a little confused.

“Yeah. She walks us to class most mornings. She fancies Dan,” Amelia supplies helpfully.

Phil quirks an eyebrow at this. “Oh yeah?” He glances down at Dan, a smirk on his lips. “Is this the same Cat that’s asked you out before?”

Dan can feel a seed of embarrassment in his chest, but he shoves it down. “Yeah,” he murmurs in response.

“Hm,” Phil hums, moving his hand to rest on the side of Dan’s face. His thumb moves down to brush against Dan’s lips, and Dan’s heart begins racing as he parts them at the contact. “Maybe I’ll have a chat with her today.”

Dan’s eyes widen. “No, don’t-“

Phil smiles. “I’m kidding, love.” He steps away and Dan arches into the missing contact. “Here’s your toast. You can have your meds when you eat some of it.”

“Thank you,” Dan whispers.

Amelia, who’s still stood beside Dan, has a worried look in her eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

Dan raises his gaze to her, forcing a small smile. “I’m alright, sweetheart, I just need some rest. I’ll be all better tomorrow.”

Phil clears his throat from behind them, nodding his head to Amelia’s vacant seat beside her brother with quirked eyebrows. “You’ll be better when you’re better, and it’s okay if that isn’t tomorrow,” Phil replies, ducking down to press a kiss to Dan’s curls. “Sit down, Mia, so you can eat your breakfast.”

Amelia nods and moves back over to her seat, waiting patiently for her cereal to be placed in front of her. Jaiden is tapping on the table incessantly as he waits, staring over at Dan with curious eyes. “You haven’t eaten your toast yet,” Jaiden tells him.

Dan shrugs, sitting up and taking the toast in hand to take a small bite out of it. “There,” he responds, chewing slowly.

Jaiden smiles widely at him before glancing over at Phil. Dan does the same, feeling warmer when he sees the small, pleased smile on Phil’s face.

“Take just a few more bites for me, love.” His voice is soft and coaxing and Dan hurriedly shoves a few more bites into his mouth, chasing just a little more of that feeling. “Don’t choke,” he laughs.

Phil sets the twins’ bowls of cereal in front of them, humming when they thank him. Jaiden begins talking about the dream he’d had the night before, something about space bugs and teaching them how to swim. Dan listens the best he can, but he feels groggy and slow and lets his eyes close as he listens to the tiny voices across from him.

“Dan?” Phil asks softly. His hand is outstretched, a small pill sitting in his palm, a glass of water in the other. “Here, you can take this now.”

Dan slowly takes the pill from him, popping it into his mouth and swallowing it down with a swig of water. The water is soothing on his scratchy throat, but the pill is heavy and he’s certain he can feel it hit his stomach. His stomach is twisting nervously for some reason, and he wants to throw up. He twists in his seat, and Phil seems to notice his discomfort, and with how long they’d been friends, he can tell what that must mean.

In a flash, Phil is knelt down on the floor beside Dan’s chair, his hands coming up to cradle his face as if he’s something precious. “Dan, shh, look at me. It’s fine. You did really well eating your toast for me, yeah? I’m so proud of you. Just drink the rest of your water and then you can go back to bed.”

Dan nods, but he can feel his eyes welling up with unexplainable tears. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling it now, but suddenly he’s bone-crushingly sad, and suddenly he’s Atlas, carrying the weight of a world on his shoulders. “Can I-“ he reaches his arms out, searching for comfort.

Phil grants this immediately, leaning in and allowing Dan to wrap his arms around his neck and bury his face into the older man’s hair. “Shh, it’s alright, Bear. It’s okay.” He whispers against Dan’s throat, petting Dan’s curls with gentle fingers, and Dan doesn’t know how he does it, but it’s as if every touch sends a calming feeling to his heart. “Are you going to be sick?” He asks, knowing that sometimes on days like this Dan can’t stand taking the pills, and almost always throws them back up the first time.

This time feels a little different, and thinking he’s probably fine, he shakes his head. “No, I’m- I think I’m okay.”

Phil looks weary when he leans away, but nods nonetheless. “Finish that water and then you can go back to bed,” he repeats.

Amelia and Jaiden look equally concerned and surprised from across the table, and suddenly Dan wants to disappear. He’s supposed to be a pillar of strength for these kids, and here he is falling apart right in front of them. “Can I take my water to our room instead?” Dan asks. He knows it’s unnecessary, he’s a grown man and can do what he wants, but he knows that on days like today, Phil likes to watch over him a little more than usual, just to make sure that he doesn’t get any worse. So, Dan will humor him, at least this time.

“Sure,” Phil replies, sending him a worried glance.

Dan stands from the table, taking his glass and moving around to where the twins are sat. He presses a kiss to both their heads, wishing he didn’t feel so shit today. “I’m sorry I don’t feel well, guys. Have a good day at school today, yeah? And you can tell me all about it when you get home.”

The twins murmur their agreement, and Dan notices the way Jaiden stares after him as he goes to head to his bedroom. Dan tries not to let that bother him, tries to shut his mind up when it insists that they hate him now, he’s a terrible father figure and they’d be better off somewhere else.

His head is pounding by the time he curls up under the duvet, his glass still only half empty. He stares at where it sits on the nightstand but makes no move to touch it. The thoughts in his head are racing, too fast for him to latch onto anything tangible. He closes his eyes and tries to even his breathing enough to just go back to sleep, desperate to put a stop to his migraine. He didn’t always get them on days like today, but it looked like that’s what he was getting.

An indeterminate amount of time passes before Dan hears the door open again. He lays unmoving as the footsteps move into the room, a low voice accompanying them. “Yeah, he’s not feeling well today. No, he won’t be able to come in at all. Maybe. It’s not- Louise, I can’t tell you that. I won’t share anything without his explicit permission. He may be back tomorrow, he may not.” There’s a long pause, followed by a weary sigh. “I don’t know. I hope so. Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Thanks, Lou. Bye.” Phil apparently ends the call then, and Dan just continues to stare at the glass, his back to Phil.

A few seconds later as he’s rummaging through the sock drawer, Phil begins speaking again. “Hello, Marianne. I’ll be taking a personal day today, as my fiancé is very ill. If you would, make sure the show goes smoothly and keep PJ on time. He can’t go over his hour again, understand? And please ask Felix to work on the soundboard that isn’t working in studio twelve.” There’s a short pause, and when Phil responds again his voice is colder. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business, thank you. Please don’t ask me that again.”

Dan stares at the glass, wondering if Phil knows he’s awake, if he should pretend he’s sleeping just in case. But that would be silly, because surely Phil wouldn’t care if Dan overheard a little bit of his conversation.

The question is answered for him when Phil has apparently hung up that call. “Dan?” He calls softly. “I know you’re not asleep yet.”

Dan slowly rolls over to face him, feeling his cheeks heating. Phil has got such a sweet smile on his face that Dan just feels guiltier. “Sorry for listening to your conversations,” He whispers, bringing his hands up to pillow his head.

Phil just shrugs with a shake of his head. “I don’t keep things from you, it’s fine.” He glances over at the glass of water, his lips pressing into a thin line as his gaze darts back to Dan. “You really need to drink that, okay?”

It’s easy for Dan to nod at this when he knows that Phil probably won’t be seriously cross with him even if he doesn’t drink it.

Probably.

“I let Louise know you wouldn’t be in today, and perhaps tomorrow,” Phil says, sitting on the edge of the bed and running a hand through his own hair, pushing it back off his forehead.

“I’ll be in tomorrow,” Dan protests weakly, knowing it may or may not be true.

Phil gives him a look. “Well that’s for us to find out tomorrow. If you’re not feeling any better tomorrow, you’ll need to stay home and just rest.”

“I’m resting now,” Dan insists stubbornly.

A sigh escapes Phil at that. “I know, but- let’s just see how you’re feeling tomorrow, yeah?”

Dan manages another nod, a little sullenly. “Okay,” he mumbles.

“Have you...” Phil trails off then, looking a little nervous as he shifts on the bed. “When was the last time you saw your therapist, Dan?”

The question isn’t entirely unexpected; Dan knew eventually Phil would ask that. That didn’t mean he actually wanted to answer, though. He grimaces slightly. It’s the most expression his face has shown all morning. “I don’t know... a few months? I think I saw her back in March.”

“March?” Phil balks. “You haven’t seen your therapist since March.”

“I mean, I think- I don’t really remember-“ Dan tries.

“No. That’s not something you can slack off on, Daniel! You have to go and see her, regularly. How could you-“ Phil fumes, running a frustrated hand through his straight hair so it sticks up at an odd angle.

“I’m sorry,” Dan whispers, his eyes suddenly burning.

Suddenly, Phil stops, glancing down at Dan. His face immediately falls, and a guilty look is in his eyes. “No, no. I’m sorry for yelling at you. That was unkind of me.”

Dan only nods, turning his traitorous face into the pillow. “‘S okay,” he mumbles.

Dan feels his hand come to rest on his shoulder and begin to rub smooth circles there. Dan can’t help but feel more relaxed at the feeling, comforted in the physical touch. “I’m sorry I shouted. It wasn’t helpful, and I know that now isn’t the right time to discuss it.” He hesitates then, and Dan can feel that hesitation lingering in the air. “We will need to discuss it, though.”

Dan doesn’t have to hear it for him to know that Phil is referring to his therapy appointments. “I know,” he breathes, “I’m sorry.”

A silence falls over them as Phil continues to rub soothing circles against Dan’s shoulder. Dan feels like he could almost fall asleep like this, but his mind is too muddled, too crowded. He rolls over and holds his arms out, staring up at Phil with what he’s sure is a pathetic expression.

Phil smiles sadly at him but goes willingly, laying down and wrapping Dan up in his arms, pressing kisses to his hair, his forehead, his ear, anywhere he can reach. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs between every press of his lips.

Finally, Dan asks, “For what?”

“I’m sorry that you feel this way, Bear.”

And Dan knows it’s silly to feel so emotional at the empathy, but a stupid tear still burns down his cheek and onto the sheets. He tries to sniffle secretly, but Phil hears it pulls him closer. He doesn’t think about how Phil is going to leave soon.

Not nearly enough time elapses before he hears tiny footsteps walking into their bedroom. “Dad?” He hears Amelia say.

Phil raises his head to look over Dan’s shoulder at where the twins must have just walked in. “Yeah sweetheart?”

“We’re ready for school,” she replies.

Dan closes his eyes, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. No more of that, now.

“Thank you, lovely,” Phil replies to her. He pulls away from Dan a little, looking down at him with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back, okay? Just try to rest, and I’ll be back in just a little while, okay?”

“Are you going to drive?” Dan asks, his blunted heart seized by a worry that just hurts.

Phil smiles, shaking his head. “No, I’ve already ordered a car. It’s probably waiting on us right now, actually.”

Dan nods slowly. On a whim, he leans forward, turning his head and nuzzling his cheek against Phil’s lips, prompting him for a kiss. Phil laughs, his breath fanning across Dan’s rosy patch, but he obliges, pressing his lips to the skin sweetly. “Thanks,” Dan mumbles, closing his eyes and finally disentangling himself from Phil enough for him to leave.

“C’mon, kiddos, time to go.”

“Can I give Dan a hug?” Amelia asks.

Phil stumbles over his words, but Dan cracks his eyes open and rolls over to look at her. “You can,” he nods, opening his arms for her.

She steps past Phil and crawls onto their bed, throwing her arms around Dan the best she can with him laying down. “Bye, Daddy,” she says quietly. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Dan smiles up at her, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ears. “Thank you, lovely. I’ll be better soon, yeah?”

With a smile, she nods and slides off the bed, moving past Phil once again to lead the way out the door. Jaiden hesitates in the doorway, clearly at war with himself about if he should copy his sister or not, but he decides on a wave instead. “Bye, Dan, love you.”

He’s sure he’s going to start tearing up again, but he bites his lip harshly just in time to keep the emotion at bay. “Love you too, bub. Have a good day at school, yeah?”

Jaiden nods with a smile before spinning around and chasing after his sister.

Phil rolls his eyes at this but doesn’t bother calling him out on it. “I’ll be right back, okay? See you in a bit.”

He listens to the sounds of Phil gathering the twins’ lunches and their backpacks, and the small stampede as they head to the front door. After a few moments, he hears the door shut, listening hard for the sound of the lock sliding back into place before he lets himself relax any.

After focusing on evening his breathing out and calming his nerves for several moments, Dan is just on the verge of sleep when he hears his phone ringing. His heart jumps at the sound, and he quickly rolls over to stare at the Caller ID, hoping more than anything that it isn’t Phil, saying they’d gotten into an accident or something. The idea makes him nauseous, but then he quickly feels ridiculous for always going to the worst possible scenario.

Instead, he finds Hazel’s name flashing on the screen, and despite the fact that he’d rather chew off his own foot than answer, he pulls the phone off the plug and slides his thumb across the bottom of the screen before bringing it up to his ear.

“Hello?” He sounds dull and so, so empty, and bile rises in his throat as he processes that this is a woman who has the power to take his children away if she realizes he’s in no fit state to care for even himself. He’s certain he’ll throw up if she says anything of the sort, and his throat is catching on a protest already, before she’d even spoken.

“Hi, Dan, it’s Hazel. I have some news about Levi and I wanted to make sure you knew as soon as possible,” her voice is bright, almost excited, and Dan suddenly sits up. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about the Levi situation per se, but he’d definitely shoved it to the back of his mind the past few days, so he was a little surprised at the reminder.

“Yeah? What did you find out? Can he stay with us?” It was the most coherent thing he’d said all day, but with his adrenaline suddenly spiked, he felt that he had energy to spare on this kind of excitement.

“Slow down, Dan,” Hazel laughs. “One thing at a time, yeah?” She waits for his hum of assent, and then she continues. “So, I spoke to Levi’s caseworker, and it turns out his behavior has been exemplary since he was put in the group home.”

“That’s great,” Dan says, because he’s almost positive that’s the first hurdle towards getting him reunited with his siblings. “So, can we take him?”

“Well, I spoke to his new case manager, and they said that considering the circumstances, and considering the fact that you are taking care of his siblings as well, you should be more than eligible to foster him.”

The unspoken “but” is heavy in the air between them.

“Should? What does that mean?” Dan asks, deflating.

Hazel sighs. “Well, he has to be comfortable with that decision, we won’t remove him from somewhere he’s acclimated to and place him somewhere new on a whim, especially since he seems to be doing okay there-“

Dan interrupts her at that. “Okay is a far cry from happy, or even well. And his siblings are with us, Hazel, I-“

“I know, Dan, I know,” Hazel speaks over him. “But that’s how it is. I didn’t say that was the end of it, now did I? You still have a chance of fostering him, but you and Phil will need to visit him at the group home and make sure he’s comfortable with living with you first.”

His stomach twists at the phrasing. “Is it because we’re gay? Do they do this with straight couples?” He spits, his normally friendly tone with her being compromised due to his annoyance.

“Yes, Dan, this is standard procedure, regardless of sexuality,” She deadpans, sounding unimpressed. It’s the first unfriendly thing he’s truly ever heard from her, and it takes him a moment to recover from it.

“Okay,” he concedes, a little embarrassed at his attitude. “Sorry. What day can we stop by?”

She gives him a date, the following Sunday actually, as well as an address and before she hangs up, her best wishes for the visit. He appreciates it, but it doesn’t stop his stomach from churning uncomfortably, fully aware that now he has one more thing to stress about.

He’d really meant to sleep or something before Phil got back, but now his head is too stuffed to even try. He lies awake, staring at the ceiling and replaying Hazel’s words until it starts to sound like gibberish. The opening of the front door catches his attention for a moment and he turns his head to stare at the bedroom door.

“Hey,” Phil smiles when he walks into the bedroom, tossing his keys onto his nightstand. “How are you feeling?”

Dan shrugs. “Like shit still, sorry,” he says flatly.

He doesn’t miss the frown that graces Phil’s lips at that. “Well...” Phil trails off, clearly unsure how to proceed now. “What can I do to make it better?”

Holding his arms out, Dan gives him his best puppy dog eyes. “Cuddle?”

Phil cracks a smile at that. “Of course.” He crawls into bed then, socks and all, but it doesn’t take until he’s laying down for him to move around, and Dan can tell he’s yanking the offending fabric off his feet.

Dan makes a small noise of protest when Phil tosses them onto the floor behind him, uncaring where they land. “Phil,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” Phil giggles, not sounding sorry in the slightest as he wraps himself around Dan. With Dan still on his back and making no movements to change positions, Phil is just left to curl around his side, his arm tossed over Dan’s chest while his leg comes up to rest over Dan’s. He must be thinking about their position just as much as Dan, as he whispers, “Is this too much?”

“No,” Dan immediately says. “‘S good.”

He can feel Phil smiling against his collarbone and he moves his left hand to rest in Phil’s hair. His band stares back at him, almost mocking him in the way it softly glistens in the sunlight pouring in from the window. “Do you still wear your ring?” He finds himself asking into the silence. As soon as the words are out he regrets it and starts wishing he could take them back, but it’s too late.

“Of course,” Phil replies, sounding somewhat confused as he shifts, holding up his left hand to prove it. “I never even take it off anymore.”

Dan feels warm at that. “You don’t?” He asks tentatively.

“Not really. I kept forgetting to take it off at night and now I don’t even try to remember. It’s better to just leave it on.” He shrugs nonchalantly, as if the explanation he gave is a simple one.

“Oh,” Dan replies softly. He doesn’t know why it feels important, but suddenly the ring on his hand feels heavier than it has in weeks, and he’s trying desperately to remember when the last time he took his own off was, but he’s struggling to come up with the answer. Before he can allow his thoughts to run away with him any further, he shoves his hand back down to his side, staring up at the ceiling instead. “Hazel called me again.”

Phil sits up at that, his eyes widening comically. “What’d she say?”

Dan shifts, rolling over to face Phil. “She said that we had a chance.”

He lets the announcement linger in the air between them, heavy with implication and a guarantee of further discussion. Phil’s breath catches in the silence of the room, not going unnoticed by Dan, who is painfully focused on his reaction.

Phil swallows hard, and Dan stares at his stubbled throat as his Adam’s apple bobs. “What exactly did she say?” He asks, sitting up further and moving enough to look more closely at Dan’s face.

Under the sudden scrutiny, Dan squirms. “She told me we have to visit the group home first, to see if he even wants to live with us.”

“Great! That’s good, right?” He backpedals, taking in Dan’s sober expression.

Dan shrugs. “I guess so.”

Phil studies him curiously for several moments, and eventually he glances away. “Do you… Are you tired of doing this with me?”

Dan balks at him for the completely absurd accusation. “What? What are you talking about?”

Blue eyes shift to meet the duvet, and Phil’s long fingers tug at a loose thread. “I just… I don’t know, I thought maybe you were tired of doing this. Maybe you’ve changed your mind about Levi, or something.” Dan can only give him an incredulous stare, but Phil is quick to start speaking again. “And that’s fine, like if you have changed your mind, and I understand, but Dan-“

“Shut up,” Dan says immediately, feeling his stomach churn at the very idea that he doesn’t want this. “Shut up, now. I haven’t changed my mind or anything, you buffoon. Of course, I didn’t change my mind, I lov- love those kids. I couldn’t do that to them.” He trips over his words embarrassingly, but if Phil notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I was just checking,” Phil says, a little sheepishly. “It’s, you know, fine. If you do. Just tell me if that happens, yeah?”

Dan shakes his head slowly before shifting to sit up, practically crawling into Phil’s lap to wrap his arms around the other man. “That’s never going to happen. I’m more worried about you doing that, honestly.”

A kiss is pressed to his temple, wet and warm and lingering, and Dan’s throat feels like it’s swelling as Phil wraps his arms around Dan’s back to return his embrace. “I’m not going to leave you. You’ve gotta have a co-parent, and I want to be that person. So, I’m going to need that to get through that thick skull of yours, yeah?” It’s said teasingly, but Dan can feel his eyes burning.

He sniffles, trying to muffle the sound in Phil’s collar. “Okay.” He’s drowning in the need to hear Phil say more sweet things, to hear him say something else, but he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, trying to physically force the thought away.

“You need to finish your water, and then we’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day. Netflix, naps, massive takeaway, whatever you want to do.” Phil is polite enough not to push Dan away, even though the younger man is almost certain that he’s well aware of the tears that are falling right now.

“Yeah, okay,” Dan rasps out, moving to pull away from Phil’s arms.

Before he can get very far, Phil is pulling him back, making a soft noise of protest in his throat. “No, just stay here a little longer.”

And Dan doesn’t know what Phil’s reasonings are for this prolonged moment of connection, but as he runs his hand through Dan’s curls, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, Dan finds he doesn’t care.

~~~

A couple hours later, Dan finds himself sitting in the lounge, his head in Phil’s lap as the older man plays Breath of The Wild, his eyes glued to the television screen, while Dan’s are glued on his face. Phil’s clearly annoyed with the game, muttering swears under his breath, but Dan finds it painfully endearing.

“Fucking-“ Phil mutters, jabbing a button with his thumb hard. He’s sitting sort of awkwardly to allow Dan to rest his head in his lap; he’s leaned his torso a little to the side, just enough that he can rest one of his forearms on Dan’s chest, since Dan is laid on his back. Phil lets out a frustrated breath, which fans across Dan’s arms and makes him shiver a bit. “Are you cold?” Phil asks immediately, his eyes darting down to take in Dan’s appearance.

“No,” Dan shakes his head, but almost immediately another shiver dances across his spine, and Phil gives him a disbelieving look. Damn his medicine for making him have a bout of heat flash earlier that prompted him to take off Phil’s York hoodie, which he’d left in their bedroom.

“Up,” Phil instructs, gently forcing his hand under Dan’s head and pushing him into a sitting position. “I’ll be right back. Do you want something to eat, maybe?” He asks, looking hopeful.

While the day has progressed from a terrible one to just a bad one, Dan’s still not quite there yet. He gives Phil a guilty half-smile. “Not right now.”

Phil sighs, letting out the air slowly. “Alright. Later, then.” He levels Dan with a serious stare, clearly not inclined to take no for an answer about this.

Dan nods mutely, refusing to agree to something he can’t promise just yet. There was a good chance he’d feel like eating by dinner, but these days weren’t always predictable, and it was hard to assume that he’d be there mentally as of right now.

“Right,” Phil says with an air of defeat. “Be right back, then.” He moves from the sofa and heads down the stairs, giving Dan no explanation as to where he’s going. If Dan had to guess, he’d assume that he was off to get himself something to eat, or maybe his hoodie for Dan to put back on. He selfishly hopes that it’s that.

After a few minutes, longer than Dan would like, Phil comes stomping up the stairs again with his heavy feet. Dan tilts his head from where he’d been resting it against the back of the sofa, moving his eyes to take in the sight. Phil has an armful of things, the most noticeable of which is, bless him, the York hoodie.

Dan doesn’t even try to stop himself from lifting his arms and making grabby hands for the insultingly bright fabric.

Phil smiles fondly at him as he gets closer, adding an eyeroll at Dan’s antics. “Wait until I get in the room, man,” he chastises without any actual bite.

Dan has no time for this. “No, I want the hoodie, I don’t care about the other crap,” he says dismissively. As soon as Phil is close enough, Dan reaches forward and tugs the hoodie out of his grip. Phil huffs but makes no move to claim it back as he sits on the sofa. Dan is too busy tugging the hoodie on that he pays no mind to the things Phil is arranging in his lap.

“I might’ve brought that up here for me, you know,” Phil mutters, his lips turned down.

This is enough to give Dan pause. “Did you?” he asks timidly, the tendrils of embarrassment reaching out for him in the space of five seconds before Phil replies.

There’s a sweet smile on Phil’s face as his gaze flits up to meet Dan’s. “No,” he scoffs, leaning into Dan’s space to press a kiss to his cheek gently. “I brought you some other treats, too,” he informs, a sneaky little twitch to his lips as he speaks. Dan can’t help but be a little suspicious, but also excited, as he looks down to the things Phil currently has his arms covering.

“What did you bring for me?” Dan asks, the excitement in his voice unmistakable.

Phil grins at this. Then, as if it’s a grand surprise, he slowly uncovers the spoils laid in his lap. “Ta-da!” He exclaims.

Dan’s gaze flits down to survey his treats. There’s a box of chocolate he hadn’t known was in their possession, plus a DVD of a movie they hadn’t watched in several years, and finally, balanced on his thigh, was a plushie Dan was almost positive he hadn’t seen in years.

“Is that…? He trails off quietly as he lifts his hand, his fingertip just barely grazing the fuzzy mane.

“It is. I, uh… I’ve had him in a box, and it might be a little silly, but- it always made me feel better? Comforted me. So, I thought…” Phil trails off slowly, and Dan’s pretty sure it’s out of nervousness of Dan’s reaction, which in true mental breakdown fashion, is crying. “I’m sorry,” Phil whispers, seeming to bite back emotions of his own. “If you think it’s stupid, I’ll-“

Dan cuts him off with that, surging forward and wrapping his arms around Phil’s neck in a tight embrace, the tears on his cheeks smearing onto Phil’s face as Dan presses closer. “I don’t think it’s stupid,” he mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to the space just in front of his ear blindly. “I think it’s- it’s really fucking sweet, actually,” he admits over his hiccupping.

The tension leaves Phil’s body at this, and he lets out a small laugh as he brushes a hand over Dan’s hair. “Yeah?” He asks, voice still a little unsure.

Dan nods vigorously before pressing more kisses to his ear. “You’re too good for me, you know,” he whispers, almost wishing he didn’t have to say it at all.

“I’m not,” Phil argues gently. “You’re just too hard on yourself.” He presses against the side of Dan’s head a little, just enough to coax him into laying his head on his shoulder. “I don’t like hearing you talk badly about yourself. It hurts me when you do that.”

Dan knows that Phil doesn’t intend for it to be a guilt trip exactly, but he still finds himself squirming uncomfortably. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Phil hums. “You don’t have to be sorry, Dan. We just need to work on you feeling better about yourself, yeah?”

“Okay,” he mumbles.

There’s a beat of silence before Phil speaks softly into his ear. “You’re an amazing best friend, and you’re a wonderful father to the kids. You’re a great counselor and students love you, and-“ he clears his throat then. “And so do I, obviously.”

The room falls into a heavy silence, but it’s not awkward or bad, it just feels heavy in a way that makes it clear that they’re both holding their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “That does make me feel better,” Dan whispers eventually, trying to keep his tone light.

Phil laughs at this and whatever tension was there is broken. “Yeah?” He’s clearly grinning now, that much is evident in his voice. He maneuvers Dan away just enough to grab the things in his lap and set them on the coffee table.

“Can I-“ Dan begins, pointing to the stuffed lion as it goes. “I just wanna hold it.”

“Course,” Phil says with a sweet smile. He hands the plushy to Dan, who stares at it with wide eyes.

“I didn’t know you still had him,” Dan admits, carefully running a finger across the mane.

The first time he ever met Phil in person was when he went to visit him at his parents’ house in 2009. Phil had kept this lion plushy on his bedside table, and when Dan inquired about it, Phil had blushed and stuttered out some lie about forgetting it was there and meaning to donate it, but never made any move to place it elsewhere. When they’d moved in together in Manchester, Dan found the lion in a moving box and rather than tease him for something he was clearly embarrassed about, he had taken it into Phil’s room and set it gently on his unmade bed. They never spoke about the fact that he was a grown man still holding onto a childhood toy, because Dan hadn’t cared. If he ever really thought about it, at the most he just found it endearing.

“Of course. I, um... I always figured that one day I’d... I dunno, give it to my kids or something.” Phil’s words are stuttered and his gaze flits everywhere but Dan’s face.

Dan suddenly feels a pain in his chest. Of course, Phil planned on having a real family one day, he knew that. He didn’t realize how bad it would hurt to hear, though, considering he felt like they already had one. “Yeah... yeah, of course,” he mumbles, a little uncomfortable now and a lot sadder. He gently sets the plushy back on the coffee table before settling back into the sofa, subtly shifting out of Phil’s grasp.

“But then again, maybe I’ll just keep it for us,” Phil continues, sounding contemplative.

Dan shifts a little then, dragging his gaze to Phil’s slowly and timidly. “For us?” He inquires softly, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Phil nods, sending him a small smile. “Yeah. Some days you just need a good cuddle from a plushie, you know?” He hesitates then, but his eyes flicker away to the window as he says the next part. “And what’s mine is yours, love. If it can be shared, I’ll always share with you.”

This only prompts another sob, but this time Dan can’t even pretend to be anything other than touched. “That’s...” He trails off on a choke, unsure of how to even describe the warmth that floods through his veins at this. “As long as you don’t try to borrow my toothbrush,” he blurts, meaning it as a joke, something, anything to ruin the moment

It has the desired effect, as Phil takes one look at Dan’s face before bursting into ridiculous giggles. “Oh my god,” he squeals. “Ew! I’m not going to use your toothbrush!”

Dan ducks his head to hide the color in his cheeks. “Good. You better not.”

He’s caught in the humor of the moment, looking down at his lap with a soft smile, so he almost jumps when he feels Phil run a hand across his back. “I’m really proud of you, bear.”

“For what? Being depressed?” Dan asks with a bitter snort of disbelief.

Phil settles him with an unimpressed stare. “For waking up. For trying. For doing things that are hard, even when you’d rather just stay in bed all day.” He opens his mouth again, but closes it quickly, looking away and swallowing hard. “I’m always impressed with your strength, love. But especially on days like today.”

Dan feels another volley running down his cheeks, but he’s helpless to stop it. “Sorry, I’m just- you know I get weepy when you’re nice to me.”

Phil offers him a sympathetic smile. “I know, sorry. But... I just thought you needed to hear something nice.”

A silence settles over them then, as Dan has no clue how to respond to that in a way that doesn’t make him seem even more pathetic than he already feels. Clearing his throat, he says the only thing he can really think of. “Wanna watch Stranger Things?”

~~~

Later that evening, after Phil has picked up the twins from school, he and Dan find themselves in the kitchen making dinner. Well, Phil was making dinner. Dan was sat at the table, at Phil’s request, “supervising” rather than cooking.

“I feel like an invalid,” Dan mumbles from where he’s sat shaking salt onto a plate. He has a toothpick in his left hand, which he uses to write and doodle with as he’s watching Phil move around the kitchen.

Phil laughs at this and sends a cheeky smile over at him. “Sorry, but that’s not going to convince me to let you help. You need a break, you always cook dinner.”

Dan snorts. “I don’t know if burning down our kitchen trying to make spaghetti is giving me a break,” he teases.

He expects the towel that gets thrown in his face, but he pouts nonetheless. Phil is smug when their eyes meet, and Dan rolls his eyes when the older man holds a hand out for the towel. “Give it here, Dan.”

“Now why would I just hand it over when you threw it at my face?” Dan tries to turn the theatrics up when he says it.

Phil rolls his eyes, stepping closer to Dan, abandoning the boiling pot behind him. “Right, woe is you. Give me the towel.”

Dan’s head is tilted back now to look up into Phil’s face, and he holds the towel just out of reach. “Or else what?”

A silence settles over the kitchen then as Phil deliberately leans forward, dropping a hand onto the table and crowding Dan back in his seat. Their faces are merely inches apart, and Dan’s sharp intake of breath pierces the quiet, Phil’s lip quirking just a bit in response. “Or else…” He tips his head then, bringing his face steadily closer, causing Dan’s heart rate to spike pathetically. At this point, Dan really isn’t sure what to expect, so when Phil’s hand darts out and grabs the towel out of his now limp hand, Dan doesn’t even have time to react.

“Wha- hey!” His voice is high pitched and whiny as Phil saunters back over to the stove. “You- you- thief!” He cries.

Phil smirks at him. “Don’t be a brat, Danny,” he says, his voice laced with sarcasm. “And quit wasting the salt, too.”

Dan mutters something under his breath about Phil being bossy, but does as he’s told, gingerly scooping the grains back into the shaker with his toothpick. There’s a companionable silence between them for several minutes, filled with the sounds of Phil stirring something and opening the oven door to check their garlic bread.

“Hey, Phil?” Dan says eventually.

“Yeah, ba- Dan?”

There’s another silence as Dan struggles to sort his thoughts out. When he does, he mumbles, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but like I said, I don’t mind making dinner. I know I’m not very good at it, but-“

“No, not that,” Dan interrupts. He abandons his project to turn back to his best friend, surprised to find him already stood looking back at him. “I meant for today. And for all the days I’m like this. You… You always take care of me when I’m like that, and…” He swallows hard. “I just wanted to say thank you. You know. For that.”

Phil has a fond look on his face as he steps towards Dan, reaching a hand out and running his hand through Dan’s curls before leaning down and dropping a kiss to the brunette waves. “You’re welcome, bear.”

It’s simple, and Dan’s a little relieved that they escaped the super emotional thing that they’d went through earlier. He may feel a certain way about this arrangement now, but there truly was only so much sappiness he could handle.

Luckily, this time there’s a very good reason to keep it short, and that reason comes in the form of their six-year-olds storming into the kitchen.

“He took my tablet and won’t tell me where it is!” Amelia shouts, her little face red with anger.

“I didn’t take it! I don’t even know where it is!” Jaiden argues, crossing his arms and glaring at his sister.

Amelia steps forward, stomping her feet as she goes. “Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes!”

“You always say that I take your things when you-”

“I only say it when I know you-“

“That’s enough!” Phil interrupts their yelling in an authoritative voice. It was one Dan hadn’t had much experience with, honestly, so when he hears it, he jumps just as much as the twins do. He’s still got a hand in Dan’s hair, but now he steps away and crosses his arms as he stares down at the kids. “Amelia, where was the last place you saw it?”

Amelia lets out an annoyed huff, but when Phil quirks a warning eyebrow at her, she ducks her head and mumbles out an explanation. “I had it in the lounge last night, but I went to get it and it’s not there! And Jaiden-“

“Ah- nope, didn’t ask about Jaiden. Where was it at in the lounge?” Phil’s voice is kind, but firm. Something about it just has Dan staring at him in awe, almost like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“It was…” Amelia furrows her eyebrows as she tries to think. “It was on the armchair.”

Phil nods. “Okay, did you check over by Dan’s desk where we keep the chargers?”

Amelia’s eyes go wide at this, and she drops her gaze to the floor. “No,” she admits, guilty.

Dan’s lip quirks at this.

“Right, well maybe you might wanna check there before yelling at your brother next time, yeah?”

Amelia nods quickly. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

Phil tilts his head. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs to hear an apology,” he says gently, nodding subtly at where Jaiden is stood to the side, looking halfway torn between ruffled and smug.

The girl huffs but spins around to face her brother. “Sorry,” she spits out quickly, moving to leave the kitchen almost immediately.

“Mia,” Dan calls then, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the kitchen. When she turns to look at him, he nods back to her brother. “You could use kinder words,” he says softly.

She hesitates but nods and reluctantly turns to her brother once more. “I’m sorry for yelling at you about my tablet.”

Jaiden shrugs, but says nothing. Amelia looks helplessly at Dan and Phil, but Dan only offers her a shrug. “We can’t make him accept your apology, love.”

She frowns but seems to understand, sparing another guilty look at her brother before leaving the kitchen again, to find her tablet no doubt.

“Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes, Mia,” Phil calls after her before moving to the stove.

Jaiden stays rooted to his spot next to the doorway, and Dan tilts his head at him. “You okay, bub?”

The boy shrugs, and shocks Dan as he steps forward, holding his arms out for a hug. Dan shares a surprised look with Phil before gathering the child in his arms. When Jaiden still hasn’t let go after a minute or so, Dan readjusts him and pulls him to sit in his lap. “Is everything okay, Jai-bird? Did…” He trails off, locking eyes with Phil again before forcing the question. “Did something happen at school?”

Jaiden shakes his head against Dan’s chest helplessly. “No.”

“Oh,” Dan says, at a loss. “Did Mia just hurt your feelings?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Jaiden whispers. “I don’t like when she yells.”

Dan runs a hand over his back, making soft noises in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to, bubby. Maybe she just had a long day and she just got frustrated. That happens to me sometimes too, you know.”

Jaiden slowly leans away, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Dan tries his best not to cringe at that. “Yeah?” He sounds hopeful.

Shrugging, Dan shares a look with Phil. “Yeah, course. Sometimes I come in and I’m mean to Phil for no reason. I just get upset about other things and sometimes I forget that he’s on my team.” He glances over to Phil again, finding the older man staring down at the stove with a small smile that Dan can’t help but mirror as he looks back at their son. “But at the end of the day, it’s important to remember to apologize for being mean and finding a way to fix it when I hurt him.”

Jaiden considers this for a minute. “Is Mia on my team, then?”

Dan smiles and brushes his hair back. “Yeah, love, she’s on your team. And so are we.”

The six-year-old seems to consider this for a while, staring at the space over Dan’s shoulder. “I like our team,” he finally says, just barely loud enough for Dan to hear.

His heart clenches and he hugs him a little tighter. “I like our team too, bub.” His wet eyes flit over to find blue ones already staring back at him. “I like our team a lot.”

~~~

Dinner is a little awkward, with the twins being mad at each other and all, but when Amelia offers to give Jaiden half of her dessert, everything seems to settle back into place. Dan still makes a point of sending Jaiden to have a bath first, while he and Phil sit down with Amelia and have a talk with her about kindness and the importance of family. She sits across from them at the table and listens with her eyes downcast, and as soon as Phil is finished with his speech about how much family means, they dismiss her for bed.

Amelia doesn’t even hesitate before walking around the table to them, holding her arms out for a hug. She’s closest to Phil, and she all but crawls up into his lap when he reaches out for her. Dan can hear him whispering to her, and his heart swells with fondness as he watches the scene. “I know you feel like you’re in trouble, but I promise you’re not, baby girl. I’m very proud of you for listening to us and being a big girl, yeah? You did really well.”

She sniffles but nods against his shoulder. “O-okay,” she hiccups.

Phil presses a kiss to her hair. “Goodnight, Mia. I love you.”

“Love you too.” She scrambles out of his grasp and practically falls into Dan’s arms, pressing her little wet face to his shirt, not so subtly smearing her tears and snot onto it.

“I’m proud of you too, sweetheart. Thank you for apologizing to your brother like we asked. It’s important to use kind words, and you did so well.” He presses a kiss to her hair and then teasingly leans away. “Wait, did you- is that snot on my shirt?” He says, aghast at the very idea.

Of course, she giggles at this, shrugging and leaning in only to wipe her face yet again in the fabric.

“Ew!” He screeches, tickling her sides. “That’s- that’s disgusting!”

“Sorry!” She cackles, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

Dan tuts at her and pulls her into another hug before releasing her. “Goodnight, kiddo. I love you bunches.”

She leans up and kisses his cheek, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. “Love you too, Daddy. Goodnight.”

With that, she’s gone, prancing out of the kitchen and off down the hall. Dan sighs contently before glancing over at Phil, suddenly remembering his presence. He’s leant against the table on his elbow, his head resting on his hand as he gazes at Dan, a fond, pleased look on his face. Something about the affection in his eyes is enough to make Dan flush, and he can practically feel his ears reddening.

“What?” He asks, his voice pitched in defense.

Phil shrugs. “Nothing, love. You’re just… I like seeing you with them. You’re a good dad.”

Dan shrugs, a little squirmy with the praise. He stands from the table and drops his hands onto Phil’s shoulders, rubbing his thumbs in circles against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You are too, you know. You did really well earlier, when they came in here fighting.”

Phil leans into his touch, sighing. “Did I?” He hums.

“You did,” Dan nods, even though Phil isn’t looking at him. Something is urging him to lean down, to just press a kiss or two to Phil’s hair or neck, but Dan refrains. That wasn’t territory he was allowed access to, and there were some boundaries even he wouldn’t cross. “Bedtime?” He asks instead.

“Mm. Yeah.” Phil moves to stand up, and Dan drops his hands. “Do you want me to go see that the kids are in bed?” He asks, glancing back at Dan for a moment.

Dan shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. “No, I’ve got it.”

Phil spares him another look, but nods and stops at their bedroom, leaving Dan to walk down the hall to the twins’ room alone. After making sure they’ve both brushed their teeth, Dan tells them a story about dragons, per Jaiden’s request. “Alright, you two, time for sleep. I love you guys.”

Jaiden yawns and pats Dan’s arm sleepily. “Love you too, Dan.”

“Goodnight, love.” Dan glances over to find Amelia with her eyes already closed, and he’s careful about making his way out of the room, as quietly as he can.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, he heaves a deep sigh. He was feeling better than he had earlier, but all the interaction the past few hours had pretty much worn him out. He rubs a hand across his face as he steps into his own room, pulling the door shut behind him. He notices that the bedroom itself is empty, but the door to the bathroom is ajar, so he thinks nothing of it as he pushes it open and steps inside. That is, until he sees Phil stood at the sink, wearing nothing but a towel as he drags a razor across his jaw.

“Hey,” Phil greets him quietly.

Dan, a little flustered now, spins on his heel to leave, stuttering out an apology. “Sorry, I- the door was open, I didn’t-“

“Dan?” Phil interrupts. When Dan slowly, begrudgingly turns to make eye contact with him, he finds Phil smiling at him. “You can stay in here, it’s your bathroom too, you know.”

Chewing on his lip, Dan slowly nods. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll just, um- brush my teeth?” He sounds uncertain, even to his own ears, but luckily Phil doesn’t seem to think it’s odd.

“Here,” Phil says, handing him his toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste they shared. Phil watches Dan as he wets the bristles, squeezes some toothpaste on, then runs it back under the stream of water before popping it into his mouth. When he catches Dan’s gaze, he glances away, bringing his hand back up to continue shaving. “How are you feeling?” He asks softly.

Dan shrugs at this. “I dunno. Better, I guess. Less numb.”

Phil nods in understanding. After seeing as many bad days as he had, Dan knew that Phil was the one person in his life who really did understand his bad days, better than anyone else. “Did the kids make it better or worse?”

It takes him a moment to think about this, slowing the sweeps of his toothbrush to a stop so he can speak. “I think better, actually. It gave me a distraction, you know?”

Phil smiles at this. “Yeah?”

With a nod, Dan spits out his toothpaste, pressed firmly against Phil’s side as they’re being forced to share the one sink. He rinses off the toothbrush and passes it to Phil for him to put it away, studying Phil’s face in the mirror the whole time. “Do you think you’ll ever grow a beard?” He asks eventually.

Phil lets out a startled laugh as his eyes catch Dan’s in the mirror. “Why? Is that something you want me to do?”

Dan shrugs, leaning against the counter and studying the features on Phil’s face. He’s got a wrinkle of concentration between his eyebrows as he focuses on not nicking himself with the razor, and Dan kind of wants to smooth it out with his lips. “I think it would look good on you.”

It takes him a moment to realize what it is that he just said, his whole body flushing with embarrassment. Phil doesn’t seem as affected, although he does quirk an eyebrow when he meets Dan’s gaze in the mirror. “Noted.” he replies smoothly.

Clearing his throat, Dan pushes himself away from the counter and runs a hand through his fluffy curls. “Did you want to talk about Levi?” He blurts, latching onto anything to get rid of the awkward feeling in his chest.

“Yeah, actually. Did Hazel say anything else about us going to meet him?” Phil dips the razor under the faucet and taps the excess water off before dropping it to the counter. He leans down to splash water on his face, fumbling with his eyes shut to grab a towel. Dan takes pity on him, stepping forward and pressing one into his hands gently. “Thanks.”

“Mhm. She said we could come see him Sunday. I told her I’d speak to you about it first and let her know what we decide.” Dan watches as Phil takes his contacts out, leaving the pot on the tap as he always does. Dan expects to feel a flare of annoyance, but he feels nothing as he steps around Phil, putting it away, along with the razor as well.

Phil smiles apologetically at Dan, squinting slightly due to his lack of glasses at the moment. “That’s good, right? Sunday’s good. We can go Sunday.”

Dan nods, leading the way out of the bathroom and kicking a stray shirt out of the way so Phil doesn’t stumble over it with his big clumsy feet. “Yeah. She said the twins can come too, if they want.”

They climb into bed together, the lamp on Dan’s side guiding their movements in the otherwise dark room. “We’ll need to have a talk with them about that. They may not be ready to see him, and I don’t want to make them do something they’re not comfortable with.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dan agrees. He nudges Phil, scooting in close to him and trying to prompt him to turn the other way.

“What?” Phil asks, glancing at Dan in confusion.

Dan blinks. “Er- cuddle?” He says, as if it’s obvious.

Phil stares at him, then nudges Dan’s shoulder in the same way Dan had just done to him. “Okay, then roll over.”

Shaking his head, Dan presses closer, bringing their faces closer together as he gently pushes Phil to roll over to face the other way. “Don’t wanna be the little spoon tonight,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

“Oh,” Phil says, sounding surprised. “Oh.” He allows Dan to maneuver his body into a prime cuddling position, and then lays there, pliant, as Dan tucks his knees against the back of Phil’s and wraps an arm around Phil’s waist. After he’s settled down, Phil speaks quietly. “This feels weird,” he sounds ashamed.

It makes Dan nervous to hear that, but he tries not to tense up or let on as if it does. “How so?” He asks cautiously.

“I dunno. I’m just used to being the one who protects you.”

Dan can’t even hide his smile at that and doesn’t even pretend to hide the way he leans in and kisses the back of Phil’s neck. “You do know I’m not totally useless all the time, yeah?” He teases.

Phil turns his head slightly, studying Dan with a serious look. “You’re never useless. Don’t even say that about my best friend.”

He looks serious enough that Dan gives him an apologetic smile and then pretends to zip his lips. Phil looks satisfied with this and turns back to face the other way, letting out a little sigh. Dan stares at the back of his head for a long moment, letting himself bask in the warmth between them. Subtly, he shifts forward and presses his lips to the nape of Phil’s neck, the hair there tickling his upper lip a little. He kisses the spot with as much affection as he can manage to put into the gesture, all the things he lacks the words for seeping from his lips and onto Phil’s skin.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispers eventually.

Phil doesn’t respond, already asleep. Dan knows that he won’t sleep for a while yet, but for some reason now, cuddled up like this, he’s not bothered at all by it.

[lokishornns]

You know what would be cute? An overly affectionate drunk Loki.

Bar Hopping

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masterlist

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send requests!!

pairing: loki x reader (fem)

rating: pg13

word count: 1,820

warnings: alcohol, cursing, very very brief mention of assault (in a passing)

notes: i agree this is TOO CUTE

summary: Loki drinks and it is quickly learned he loses his filter to alcohol.

tags are open!

—

Loud cheers erupt from the crowd surrounding you, suffocating any other sound that could possibly exist. You take a long sip from your water, glancing back to the stage where Tony belts out the lyrics to some ACDC song, the bar going absolutely insane. You catch a wink from Tony, rolling your eyes in response.

The Avengers, in all their post-Thanos excitement, decided it would be a fantastic idea to go bar hopping; thus, leaving you and Bucky – the designated drivers – to babysit a group of power-wielding beings that were far too drunk. This was your last destination before returning to the compound, so you mentally took note of all those that were present.

Sam had gone home with a girl at an earlier bar, Steve was currently nursing his Asgardian mead while flirting with a couple ladies, Stark was, well, being Stark, Natasha was on the dance floor, cheering Tony on. Barton had opted to stay home for this one along with Banner, leaving Thor and Loki currently engaging in a drinking competition.

“So, Doll, which girl you want to bet takes Steve home and shows him a good time?” Bucky practically yells into your ear and you drag your eyes back to Steve, now surrounded by three girls instead of two. You eye all of them, giving them a sweep of your eyes. You shake your head.

“None. He’s gonna make out with the one in the middle, but he’ll leave her high and dry,” you say, and Bucky lets out a low whistle. He holds out a hand.

“Fifty for the one on the left; you got yourself a deal,” Bucky says, humor interlaced with his words, his hand grasping tightly to yours for a shake. You smile, glancing back at the drinking competition with a wary expression. “So, what’s going on between you and Hot Topic over there?” Bucky raises an eyebrow and you have to swallow hard to keep from choking.

“I’m sorry, what?” you ask incredulously, your cheeks flushing a deep red. You’re grateful for the darkness of the bar or else you may be in for it.

“Don’t play dumb, you’ve been watching him all night. And day. And week. And mon-” You cut Bucky off with a laugh and a whack to the gut, shaking your head.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You attempt to take a drink of your water to stall from this topic of conversation, but Bucky’s glare makes you reconsider. You sigh. “I don’t know. I think it’s one-sided. You can’t ever really tell with him. But he’s sweet and fun to be around. He always makes me laugh, and sometimes it seems like he goes out of his way to do it, but I could just be going insane.” You shake your head at the thought of Loki actually caring for you in a way that surpasses the ‘friend’ boundary. “So, what’s going on with your love life?”

“Oh, no, we are not changing this subject so fast. Why don’t you just ask him out?” Bucky asks, and your mouth seems to run dry, no true answer to his question. What do you tell him? How embarrassing it will be when the one person you seemed to have fallen in love with for two years doesn’t reciprocate? How you’ll have to see his face and instead of him rejecting you being a possibility, it is truth?

“I’m not sure,” you say, a small smile turning your lips up as your eyes trace back to the gods, surprised to find that Thor had tapped out, Loki looking around victoriously. His eyes find yours and he stops his searching, blinking harshly as if you were some sort of fairytale that he wished wouldn’t go away. “But seriously, how’s your love life?” you ask Bucky, your attention ripped from Loki. You watch as his eyes light up at the mention of his interests.

“There’s this girl down in statistics named Kendra, and she and I have been talking a bit,” Bucky says, and you sense a bit of shyness in his voice. “She’s just so sweet, and her smile lights up the room. I think I’m gonna ask her on Monday.” Bucky smiles and you let out a small squeak of excitement.

“Oh my god, that’s adora-”

A loud bang from the stage makes you whip your head away from your conversation, your jaw dropping open at the sight of Stark throwing the microphone towards Loki. You know you should probably stop whatever the hell is going to happen, but you’re frozen with shock and, bad enough, excitement. Bucky follows you, a wide grin forming over his lips. Loki stumbles a bit, sticking out his hands to balance himself and steady his steps. You stifle a laugh as he rises the microphone to his lips.

“So, this one’s for a lovely lady of mine,” Loki slurs, and you wish you could laugh at his state, but his words strike you in the heart. A small flicker of hope burns in your chest and for a moment, he catches your eyes with your own. “This is our song.”

Your eyes widen as the familiar tune plays over the loud speakers in the bar, a striking contrast to the ACDC songs that were just rumbling the entire room. You put a hand over your mouth, a laugh bubbling from your lips. This was your song. You had spent countless hours with him, tirelessly teaching him the lyrics as you danced around your room. Long story short, Loki was in love with Mamma Mia.

“I wasn’t jealous before we met,” Loki practically yells, and you smile widely. “Now every man I see is a potential threat.”

You chime in with the lyrics, throwing your head back to belt out the words to ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’, wishing in that moment that you could be drunk and careless.

“Don’t go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me,” Loki shouts the lyrics, and you swear every girl in the room swoons as, for a split second, he sings right in-tune with the notes. You catch Bucky staring at you, a teasing smile playing on his lips. You scowl, swatting his shoulder. “Hey!” Loki’s voice hollers over the lyrics. “Barnes, keep away from my girl.” You swear your face may as well be glow-in-the-dark from the shade of red it’s reaching.

“You should probably go get him,” Bucky hums, nodding his head towards the extremely drunk that’s stumbling around the stage. You nod.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you respond weakly, setting down your water. You push through the tight and sweaty crowd, reaching the stage with a huff. Loki’s continuing to sing to the song once you ungracefully climb onto stage, carefully grabbing one of his hands. “Hey.”

“Oh, love, I thought I lost you there,” Loki says, a surprising amount of relief flooding his features. You give him a strange look before you carefully pry the microphone out of his grip, handing it back to the DJ with a tight smile. You grab Loki’s hand, carefully supporting the far too heavy god as he almost falls down the stairs.

You look around helplessly, a drunk god leaning against you as you shuffle away from the stage and back to Bucky. You send him a pleading look, wondering what to do with Loki. Bucky just smiles and nods towards the door.

“You take him, I got the others,” Bucky reassures you and you draw your brows together.

“You sure?” you ask, and he nods, telling you to go. You send him a quick thanks before lugging the dark-haired prince to the door. “You’re so heavy. What did they feed in Asgard?” you huff, pushing yourselves out into the cold, night air. You feel moonlight encase the both of you, a breath of fresh – or as fresh as you can get in New York – air.

“I’m not fat, I’m thicc.” Loki smirks as if he said something clever while you just snort, rolling your eyes in response.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the car.”

The ride back is silent for a while, Loki occasionally going to play with the stereo, resulting in you slapping his hand away. You end up rolling down the windows, letting some air filter into the car as Loki moves his hand in the wind.

“Did you know you’re breathtaking?” Loki’s question slices through the comfortable question and you sense his eyes trained on you. You flick your gaze to the god briefly before turning back to the road, a scoff emanating from your mouth.

“You’re drunk, Loki. And the God of Lies, need I remind you?” you tease, your heart thrumming against your chest. You focus your eyes on the road, not wanting to meet the god’s blue and striking irises.

“No, you stole my breath away with just your face. You spoke and I feel as if you stole my heart too,” Loki mumbles, somehow becoming a better poet in his drunken stupor than you at your peak. You force a laugh, shaking your head.

“No need to be nice,” you say, turning on your blinker to turn onto the compound’s long and winding driveway.

“Honest to the gods, I think I love you,” Loki says, and you freeze, almost losing control of the car as the words shock you. You slam on the breaks, pulling into the grass to stop. You turn your body to the very confused God, his eyes wide, a permanent smirk playing on his lips.

“You can’t say shit like that when you’re drunk,” you say between gritted teeth, your chest heaving. Loki seems surprised at your small outburst, his eyebrows pulled together, a frown flipping his lips. You narrow your gaze at him. “It gives people false hope, and they like to believe it and let themselves become that hope.”

Loki’s eyes flash and for a moment, he seems to regain his normal composure, a sense of sobriety washing over him at the seriousness of the situation. He looks at you, his hand reaching out to grab one of your own. You sense there’s still alcohol in his system, but you can tell he’s about to tell the truth about what he feels.

“I love you. I truly do. I am drunk, but mead seems to pull the truth from me. Believe me when I tell you my heart stops when I see you enter a room and my head spins when you laugh. You truly are the object of my love and I would do anything for you,” Loki says, his words occasionally mixed or slurred, but you don’t mind because by the end of it, you’re doing a really shitty job of hiding a smile. “I would kiss you, but that’s like reverse assault.”

You laugh at his own laugh, smiling as he does. Yeah, maybe he does love you.

—

permanent: @wewon-mrstark @timesarehardformarvellovers

loki: @quenilla @darkprincessloki92 @jessiejunebug @agentcoulsonlivesinallofus @lokixme @themusingsofmany @iamverity

[marshmallow-phd]

Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: Soon after your second birthday, your parents were killed and you were adopted by your father’s best friend, taken away to their home country where you lived your life in peaceful ignorance. As far a as you knew, your parents simply left you large fortune to be released to you once you reached your twenty-third birthday. At least, that’s all you thought you were inheriting. When a famously ruthless mafia boss discovers your existence, you are left at his mercy. While under his roof, you learn more about your father than you ever wished you had, including the part of your inheritance that made you the most valuable person in the underworld. Hidden in a bank in New York City were files that held the darkest secrets of the mafia families and everyone in their pocket. With another terrifying leader’s eyes trained on you, you’ll learn to watch your back… and guard your heart, before your father’s past becomes your doom.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I Final

**

You woke up confused. The last memory you had of the previous night was definitely falling asleep on the couch, but now you were warm and tucked in your bed. After a quick mental run through, the only conclusion besides sleepwalking - which you had never done before - that seemed reasonable was that Junmyeon had brought you to bed, as all the other boys were long gone. The thought of him carrying you through the halls towards your bedroom didn’t disgust you like you would have expected, but you were still confused as to why he would even bother.

Stumbling to the bathroom, you washed your face, hoping that would wake you up more. You got dressed in simple jeans and a tank top before shuffling back towards the bed.

On top of the album that was currently resting on the nightstand was a thin white box. Taking the lid off, you found black cloth folded neatly inside. Too curious to just leave it alone, you picked the clothing up and groaned.

It was a dress, a clothing item you hadn’t worn since high school. On further inspection of the piece, you were becoming livid. The dress was short, barely coming mid-thigh. It had a high neck which didn’t really compensate for the fact that there was no back to it.

Junmyeon didn’t seem like the type to just randomly give you gifts. Even if he was, this gift rang loud and clear as to just how little he actually knew about you.

Preparing to throw the thing into Junmyeon’s office for him to find later tonight, you stormed out of the room and down the hall. But you didn’t make it too far before you spotted your target.

Sitting at the island, drinking coffee and reading over the newspaper was Junmyeon in a white t-shirt and sweatpants. You’d suspected from the way his suits were cut that he took care of himself, but from the way the cotton fabric clung to his torso, you’d say he put a little more effort into it than your average Joe.

Stop it. You will not ogle at him!

He hadn’t noticed you standing there at the edge of the kitchen so you cleared your throat to get his attention. Putting the newspaper down, Junmyeon met your eye.

“Good morning,” he greet, a crooked smile on his lips.

The friendly demeanor threw you off, letting you do little more than blink. Mentally slapping yourself back on track, you held out the dress. “What is this?”

“I believe it’s called a dress,” he answered sarcastically. “However, I’ve never worn one myself.”

“Ha ha,” you clapped back. “What exactly do you expect me to do with it?”

Junmyeon finished his coffee and walked over to the sink to rinse the mug out before answering me. “I expect you to wear it tonight. We have an event that requires all of us to be there. Since no one can stay behind to watch you, you’ll have to come with us. There’s an expectation on attire at these events. You can’t just wear jeans and sneakers. From what the guys told me, you don’t own a single dress, so I had one picked up for you.”

You balled the dress up in your hands, tempted to put a rip in it. “Or you could have saved yourself some money and just let me stay here. You can trust me, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

It was the truth, as much as you hated to admit it. While you were still struggling to forgive your adoptive parents for signing your basic human rights away, you still loved them and would uphold the bargain for them. You haven’t broken any of Junmyeon’s rules so far. Wasn’t that proof enough?

A little bit of hope grew when Junmyeon turned to look at you. He seemed to taking in what you were saying and actually considering it. And then the hopes were dashed.

“No,” he stated. “I need you there.”

“I told you, I am not a trophy,” you reminded him through clenched teeth. You felt like a Barbie doll for him to dress up and put on display for his other mafia buddies.

“I’m not taking you to show you off,” he said sternly. “I just need you there.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, tossing the dress onto one of the stools. Sulking over to the fridge, you took out ingredients for breakfast. You glanced over at Junmyeon, who’d sat back down at the island and picked the newspaper up once again. “Have you eaten?”

His eyes snapped up at you, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Breakfast,” you offered, holding up the carton of eggs. “Have you eaten that meal yet? They kind of say it’s the most important of the day.”

“Oh, um,” Junmyeon pressed his lips together. “No, I haven’t. I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

You turned the stove on and started whipping up the eggs. “Do you have anywhere to be?”

“No, not at the moment.”

“Okay, then,” you nodded. “I’ll make you some.”

The kitchen was silent, save for the occasional scraping of the pan and the toast popping up once it was finished. You didn’t bother asking Junmyeon how he liked any of his food. You didn’t want to seem like you were eager to please. It was simply a gesture in trying to be nice, but you weren’t a personal chef.

You weren’t even sure why you were being so nice. He’d just declared that you would be forced to go to whatever event he had scheduled tonight and that there was no way in hell you’d be allowed to stay behind. Really, you should have been making your own breakfast and devouring it in front of him spitefully. And yet, here you were, cooking for two.

Junmyeon never took his eyes off of you as you slaved over the stove, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. What was going through his head, you wondered. Perhaps your kindness was confusing him. Maybe that’s why you were doing it: to show him the opposite of what he was expecting.

With the food done, you made up two plates and set one down in front of your fiancé.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, picking up the fork you’d slid in his direction. You couldn’t exactly eat a western breakfast with chopsticks.

“Mhmm,” you hummed back.

“Do, um,” Junmyeon scratched the back of his neck nervously, “do you want any coffee? I can make another pot.”

You shook your head, “No, thank you. I don’t really drink coffee.”

A sound that was halfway between a laugh and a snort echoed off the walls. You could hardly believe that its source was Junmyeon.

“Minseok would be scandalized to hear you say that.”

You titled my head in confusion. Was there a tenth person you hadn’t met yet? “Who?”

“Xiumun,” he clarified. “That’s his real name. And he is… well, let’s just call him a coffee enthusiast.”

“Oh.” You chewed on your bottom lip, looking around the kitchen, “I would like some tea. I found some last night that was on the counter, but I don’t remember exactly where–”

Junmyeon jumped up and went over to the cabinet in the far corner. He opened the door to reveal two shelves filled with different assortments of tea. You may have just gone to heaven.

“What kind do you like?” Junmyeon asked, looking over his shoulder at me.

You blinked. Was he really going to make it for you himself? “Um, just green tea is fine.”

He took down an open box and plopped the little Keurig cup into the coffee maker. It seemed like a crime against tea to make it that way, but you decided to play nice. He was going out of his way to make it, which were you still in shock from. Placing the steaming mug in front of you, Junmyeon sat back down on his stool and continued eating.

“Thank you,” you said shyly. Considering you’d stormed into this kitchen in a raging fire, it was odd, the dynamic you were sitting in right now. It was almost… domestic.

Junmyeon finished off his plate first. You told him you would just clean the dishes when he stood up and he excused himself to his office, leaving you alone.

The kitchen felt suddenly empty. You kept hoping that one of the boys would come stomping in to break the loneliness, but that hope was never fulfilled. Usually at least someone had arrived at the penthouse by now. Was it because was still here that they stayed away?

It was strange, the way you looked forward to spending time with them. In the past you didn’t care for people, preferring to be the loner in the corner, left to your own devices and content. Maybe it was the fact that you were locked up here that made you accept their presence and rely on it to not lose your mind or become depressed.

Or maybe you just needed a specific type of person to make you comfortable and actually like to be around others. The type that wouldn’t judge or stare because of your “otherness”. You just hoped that specific type wasn’t their mafia association.

Finished with your own plate, you filled up the sink with soapy water and began to hand wash all the dishes.

As much as you hated other chores growing up, you never really minded doing the dishes. There was something relaxing about it. At home, you would put on music and bob to it while trying not to splash water everywhere. Here, you didn’t have access to your phone, so instead you just hummed whatever song popped into your head as you scrubbed at the dirty plates.

All done, you unplugged the stopper to drain the dirty water and gave all the dishes one last rinse with the hose before gently setting the drying rack the rest of the way down in the sink. You’d put them away later once they were free off all little water droplets.

“Are you done?”

You jumped, letting out a small yelp as you turned around. Junmyeon had suddenly reappeared, now wearing jeans instead of sweats. It was strange to see him in such… normal clothing. You figured he just wore a suit twenty-four seven and didn’t even know what the word “casual” meant.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” you answered, trying to get your heartbeat back down to a regulated rhythm. “Did you need something?”

“Let me see your hand,” Junmyoen directed, holding out his own, palm up. You placed your right hand into his hesitantly, but he dropped it straightaway. “No, your other hand.”

When you gave him your left hand, he slid a diamond ring onto that foreboding little finger. It was small, nothing too grand or over-the-top like you would have guess. It was just a single, medium-sized diamond set on a woven silver band.

“What is this?” you asked dumbly. It was obvious what the ring represented, you just never thought he would go this far.

“It’s a ring,” he deadpanned. “People tend to wear them when they get engaged.”

You crossed your arms, looking pointedly at his empty finger. “Where’s yours?”

“I don’t wear jewelry.”

You huffed, yanking the ring off your finger. You didn’t care how pretty it was; it was just another symbol of your enslavement. Shoving the ring into his chest, you didn’t bother to make sure he caught it as you stomped back to your room.

Curled up on your bed, you stayed there for hours, finishing up the book you’d bought just before your freedom vanished.

The main character of the book kept reciting the phrase “the sins of the father will be visited upon the children”. If you weren’t so invested in the story, you would have thrown the book across the room for mocking you with that statement. It was all too real in your world.

But what would have happened if your parents had never died? Would you have just always been a part of this world, circling the edge until the tide finally sucked you in? Taegun had said that you were supposed to marry another mafia leader’s son. You wondered if your father would have agreed to that, if he would have allowed that to happen to you, his only daughter.

You liked who you were now and didn’t want to image being like Michelle Pfieffer in Scarface. Okay, you doubted it would have been that extreme. Maybe more like Diane Keaton in The Godfather, tricked into a world that you didn’t quite understand but had no choice other than to stay.

A knock on your door brought you out of those ridiculous imaginations and back to your current predicament.

“Who is it?” you called out as you sat up.

“It’s Chen.”

Lazily getting off the bed, you went to open the door. Chen was standing in the hallway, dressed in a very expensive tuxedo that was cut just for him. His hair was slicked to the side and his bright smile was absent, only an apologetic look on his face. In his hand was the stupid black dress.

“We have to leave in an hour,” he informed you. “Junmyeon told me to have you get ready now.”

You had to bite down painfully on your tongue. It wasn’t Chen’s fault and only repeating that in your head kept the sarcastic remarks at bay.

Sighing, you took the dress back. If only you’d thrown it out the window instead. “I don’t have shoes to go with this.”

Guiltily, Chen brought out his hand that was hiding behind his back, holding out a pair of black pumps. You were probably weren’t lucky enough for them to be the wrong size. Junmyeon was too thorough for that.

You stared open mouthed at the height of the heels. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

That actually got a laugh out of him. “You’ll be fine. Get ready.” He handed you the shoes and then fished something out of his breast pocket. “Before I forget.” Opening up his palm, he revealed in his hand the engagement ring.

Just when he was creeping up your list of favorites. You rolled your eyes, walking away from the door.

“He picked it out himself,” Chen added, as if that would make it any better. “Xiumun and Baekhyun tried to get him to go with something flashier since he could afford it, but he said you would like the simpler one. Just so you know.” He set the ring down on the vanity that sat across from your bed and left.

Closing the door, you threw down the shoes and tossed the dress on the bed. As quick as you could, you jumped in and out of the shower and hurried to dry every inch of you before putting on makeup. You weren’t an extraordinaire in the art of applying cosmetics, but you knew the basics well enough to be presentable.

For about five minutes you debated on what to do with your hair before settling on just leaving it as is. No need to go the extra mile for this crowd.  

The dress fit perfectly, to your dismay. There had been a tiny sliver of hope that maybe it would be too small or too big and then you’d be free to stay behind with nothing to else wear, but, sadly, that was not the case. You slipped on the shoes and walked much better in them than you thought you would as you trekked down the hall. With barely five minutes until the hour deadline was up, you strolled into the living room where all nine men were dressed to perfection.

Your eyes met Yixing first, who beamed with his irresistible dimple at you. Chen let out a low whistle while Kai smirked, making you just the tiniest bit smug. So this was why Minah dressed up so much.

Junmyeon had his back to you, checking the expensive watch that adorned his wrist. At the noise his men were making, he glanced over his shoulder and then froze when your eyes met. He took in your appearance from top to bottom. Feeling sorry about your earlier behavior, you’d put the ring back on, which didn’t go unnoticed by the mafia leader. His gaze lingered on the ring a little longer than necessary as if he was relishing in its presence.

“All right, boys,” he called out, his eyes drifting back up to your face. “Head to the garage. We’ll meet you down there shortly.”

Without a word of complaint, they all filed into the elevator, their eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you who remained.

Once the doors had closed and the light indicated they were headed down, Junmyeon pulled a long black velvet case out of his inside pocket. He closed the distance between you and opened the box for you to see the sparkling diamond bracelet inside.

If he was expecting a gasp or a smile, he was vastly mistaken.

You simply raised an eyebrow at the gesture. “You know, I don’t have any experience in that area, but this is the second piece of jewelry you’ve given me today and according to the movies, that means you’re apologizing for something.”

Junmyeon actually looked taken aback by your brazen statement.

“I’m just trying to be nice,” he argued, snatching the bracelet out of the box and clasping it around your wrist.

“Did you get all your girlfriends jewelry?” It was poking a sleeping bear, but, admittedly, you were having a little too much fun watching his expressions change so quickly.

“They never lasted long enough,” he smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. As if portraying the bad boy would make you swoon or put you on edge.

“Wow,” you feigned surprise. “You couldn’t get them stick around for any longer than two weeks? That’s so sad.”

That wiped the grin of off his face. “All right, enough. Let’s get going.”

The boys were already sitting in two black SUVs in the parking garage, the engines running by the time you reached the garage. Chen stood next to the same Cadillac you were picked up in before, holding the back door open. Junmyeon helped you into the back seat of the car, surprising you with his chivalry.

It was a quiet ride as Chen drove the way to wherever the hell it was you were forced to go to for the night. Junmyeon kept his attention on the tablet in his hand as if he were completely alone in the back seat. Chen sometimes made eye contact with you in the rearview mirror, causing both of you to crack a smile in the weird silence.

The final destination turned out to be a dingy, one-story brick building in a rundown warehouse district. There was no one outside or even other cars to indicate that this was a gathering place of any kind. Confused, you hadn’t notice Chen get out of the car and open your door.

He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “(y/n).”

Embarrassed, you took his outstretched hand. “Sorry.”

Junmyeon stepped out on the other side, glancing around.

“Usual parking spot?” Chen asked. Junmyeon nodded and Chen hopped back behind the wheel, heading down an alley on the far side of the building as the two SUV’s followed him.

The air was chillier than you thought it would be and you regretted not bringing a jacket or even a scarf to keep you somewhat protected from the breeze. Junmyeon pulled you in close, placing your hand on the inside of his upper arm. You weren’t sure if it was because he noticed you were cold or to show that you belonged to him. At least your fingers were warm.

Inside, the building wasn’t much cleaner than its outer appearance and it seemed smaller than you would have guessed from the dimensions of the exterior walls. At the far end, there were two men flanking either side of a plain wooden door, pistols resting comfortably on their hips for the world to see.

You pushed down your curiosity that was itching to ask questions as Junmyeon led you towards the men, too afraid to make a sound beyond your heels clicking against the concrete. They nodded at Junmyeon silently and opened the door.

From all appearances, it should have led to either a back street or a very narrow room. Instead, a staircase was revealed. Music and chatter attacked your ears as you headed down the creaky, spiraling steps. Big, heavy, red velvet curtains cut the staircase off from whatever was waiting for you on the other side.

Pushed aside, they revealed a large, underground casino. Dozens of table were set up for people with too much money to place bets on craps, play blackjack or poker, or just be swindled out of everything in their wallet in any way imaginable. Some of the tables were on even elevated platforms like a spectacle. From the amount of chips in front of those players, you assumed those were reserved for high paying clients.

By instinct, you clung closer to Junmyeon. You hated large crowds, especially when you didn’t know a vast majority of them or their intentions. The entire situation was sending your system into overdrive and you had to concentrate on your breathing just to keep it from getting too shallow and causing you to hyperventilate. Sensing your nervousness, Junmyeon pulled you away from the floor, not stopping until you reached a bar set up on the far side.

With soft hands, he pushed you down onto a stool to rest. To the bartender, he said, “I’ll have whiskey on the rocks and a glass of red wine for her.”

“I don’t really drink,” you mumbled.

Junmyeon let out a short laugh. “Is there anything you drink besides tea? Just sip on the wine, it’ll help with your nerves.” He leaned in close to you, his breath on your ear and neck. From an outsider’s perspective, it might have looked seductive or even romantic. “If you’re nervous, then you’ll make the others here nervous and that doesn’t end pretty. Just stay here until I come get you, okay?”

At the mention of him leaving you alone in this place, your hand snatched up and clutched onto his jacket sleeve. Your heart was pounding in your chest to the point that you thought it might give out. You knew this particular feeling all too well.

“Please, don’t leave me,” you pleaded back in his ear. “I… I have bad anxiety in crowds. This is why I wanted to stay home. I can already feel the panic attack starting.”

Pulling back just a bit, you were met with guilty eyes. Junmyeon nodded sympathetically before pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t protest or push him away.

“I have to speak with these clients and they wouldn’t like a new face around no matter how pretty, but I’ll find Chen or Baekhyun to come stay with you until I need you again, okay?”

You were still in shock from the little sign of affection that all you could do was nod. He smiled down at you, caressing your cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

You tried to just sip on the wine, but your nerves were still too on edge waiting for one of the boys to come to your rescue that the glass was empty in just a few gulps. The bartender refilled your glass instantly and you didn’t really protest. Massaging your temples, you tried to block out the voices milling about and pretend that you were in an empty bar in a nice neighborhood that never saw any trouble and you were in no danger whatsoever.

“Well, I didn’t think it was possible, but you grew up to be even more beautiful than I’d imagined.”

A man you were sure you had never seen before sat on the empty stool beside you as if he name was written on it. He was tall and lithe, his knees barely able to fit underneath the bar. Underneath thick eyebrows were a pair of roguish eyes that gleamed with excitement. His lips were naturally puckered and his brown hair was of a longer length and slicked back by hair gel to reveal an undercut. The styling made him stick out in this crowd who went for a much more classic look. Something about the way he looked at you made you forget all about the packed room and not in a good way.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to stay polite. “I think you have me confused with someone else.” Starting to stand, you decided that you would go look for one of the boys even though Junmyeon would probably be pissed that you didn’t stay put, just to be away from this stranger.

Before you could get all the way up, the man grabbed your wrist. “Don’t be like that, (y/n).”

In utter shock, you collapsed back down onto your seat. “How do you know my name?”

He smirked. “Our fathers were friends, (y/n). You don’t remember your favorite Koko?”

A vague memory of you as a toddler calling out for someone named Koko flashed in your mind, but beyond that you were clueless. You couldn’t even be sure if that memory was real.

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried to remove your wrist from his grasp, but he held on, tightening his grip so you couldn’t flee.

“I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised,” he shrugged, not acknowledging your struggle. “You were only two the last time we saw each other face to face. My father took me to America to meet with your father. You would follow me everywhere, although as a seven-year-old I didn’t find it cute at the time. Turns out I came to miss it.”

The realization of who this man was hit you just then as the pieces fell into place. “Junko?”

His grin widened as he released his hold on your arm. “So, you do remember me?”

“Barely.” You figured that it was better to play along rather than just saying you’d learned his name from Junmyeon. “As a toddler, you don’t form too many memories.”

“But I left some sort of impression.” Reaching out behind you, Junko glided his fingers down your exposed back, causing you to shiver.

You kept your focus on the wine, not letting him know he was getting to you when what you really wanted to do was run away screaming for one of the boys. “What do you want, Junko?”

He shrugged as his knuckles continued to caress your skin. “To catch up. And you can still call me Koko, you know.”

“I’m not a child anymore.”

“No, I can see that,” he hummed in a predatory tone.

“Lee Junko!”

Like a miracle, Junmyeon marched up to the bar, swatting Junko’s hand away and pulling you to your feet.

“Aw, Suho,” Junko clapped his hands, standing up. The name that he called Junmyeon caught you off guard, but if Xiumun had a different name, you shouldn’t be so surprised that the leader did too. “Long time no see. As much as I would like to catch up with you, I was already in the middle of something.”

“And now it’s over,” Junmyeon growled.

The grin was completely gone from Junko’s face. “And what right do you have to end it?”

Junmyeon wrapped a possessive arm around your waist. “She’s my fiancé.”

“What?” The sound came out of Junko’s throat like a whip. His eyes turned animalistic as they flashed between Junmyeon and you before settling on the ring on your finger. In a second, he had a fist full of Junmyeon’s collar. “She was promised to me!”

Junmyeon didn’t even flinch. “According to my sources, that was only ever a verbal agreement between your fathers, both who are now deceased. I, on the other hand, have a written document binding (y/n) to me signed by her legal guardians.”

A snarl appeared on Junko’s lips, but then he smiled. “A document that would be void by their sudden deaths before the wedding, I presume?”

Fear swept over every inch of your body. Images of him shooting down Taegun and Hyunmin were forming in your mind.

“Don’t you dare touch them!” you screeched. You lunged at Junko, hoping to claw his eyes out for even thinking about hurting them, but Junmyeon wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you in place. Junko just found it amusing.

“I’ll leave them alone,” he promised, his eyes trained on you, “if you come with me.”

Your chest heaved up and down. Junmyeon’s vice tightened around you, letting you exactly what his answer already was without giving you a choice.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Junko lifted his shoulders then let them drop lazily. “Suit yourself.” Shifting his dagger-like gaze to you, he leaned in close, practically bending in half to level his face with yours. “You’ll come to me eventually, (y/n). You were made for me. Make the right choice.”

Throwing one last smirk to Junmyeon, he turned around and melted into the crowd.

Once he was gone, the fight in you dissipated, too, and your knees buckled under you. Junmyeon’s grip was the only thing that kept you upright. Tears started falling down your cheeks, blurring your vision. Junmyeon helped you straighten back up, cradling your head against his chest.

“Shh. (y/n), don’t worry,” he whispered into your ear. You clung to him, unable to stop sobbing. “I promise you, he won’t get near them. I already have people watching them. I’ll double it. I’ll keep them safe.”

That gave you just a small sense of relief. You believed him that he would keep them safe, even if it was to protect his own interest. While the tears kept coming, you were able to breathe again enough to say, “Thank you.”

“(y/n)!”

Chen pushed through the outer layer of people, huffing to catch his breath. Junmyeon carefully removed your fingers from his jacket, a fire in his eyes.

“Where the hell were you!” he yelled, making Chen flinched.

“I’m sorry, I was on my way over here, but I caught Ho Nam talking about the west shore and I couldn’t–” Chen finally glanced at you, noticing your red eyes. “Shit, what happened?”

“Junko happened, that’s what,” Junmyeon snapped. “You were supposed to come straight to (y/n) so she wouldn’t be alone. Instead, Junko found her and threatened her family.”

Chen cursed. “(y/n), I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, looking down at the tile flooring.

“No, it’s not okay,” Junmyeon countered.

Yixing joined you just then, scanning the group. “I could hear you yelling over all these people. Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine now,” Junmyeon told him through clenched teeth. He stared at Yixing like he was debating a decision before sighing. “Yixing, can you watch over her? I don’t want Junko coming near her again.”

Yixing nodded before holding his hand out for you to take. You looked up Junmyeon, who wiped a tear from your cheek and then nudged you over to his private doctor. Once your hand was in his, Yixing guided you away from the others and through the tables and players until you reached a dance floor.

The music that you hadn’t noticed before was slow and melodic. There weren’t many couples in the sectioned off area, but that didn’t stop Yixing from twirling you into his arms and leading you around the dance floor expertly.

“I’m sorry you had to meet that monster,” Yixing said, breaking the silence.

“Technically, I’ve met him before,” you corrected. After getting a confused look, you explained, “I was really young. It was before my parents died so I don’t really remember him, however, I do vaguely remember someone named Koko. Apparently, that was him.”

��I know you’re worried, but we’ll take care of you,” Yixing promised. “You mean more than just a business deal to us now and I think I can speak for the others when I say we’ll fight for you ‘til death.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want anyone to die. Especially for me. I’m not that special. I know the simplest answer would be to just hand me over Junko, but Junmyeon won’t let that happen. Junko said he would go after my family–” you couldn’t finish that sentence as the tears were starting up again.

“Hey,” Yixing chuckled as he wiped away the trails on your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Don’t get upset. He won’t touch them.”

Sighing, you rested your head against Yixing’s chest, just letting him rock you back and forth. His chin rested on the top of your head in a way that was meant to be comforting. But his presences wasn’t having the same effect on you as it did in the beginning. Sure, his smile still made you grin, but the butterflies no longer fluttered in your stomach.

A few minutes went by before Chen stepped in and interrupted the moment.

“(y/n), Junmyeon said I could take you home.” He threw a strange look to Yixing before smiling back at me.

Saying goodbye to Yixing, you let Chen walk you out of the illegal casino and into the back alleyway, relieved to be going to the penthouse that really was becoming home.

[inkstarlight]

In honor of finishing the third draft of US AND THE STARS and beginning on the fourth (and maybe final draft??), I want to post the edited prologue and first chapter of it here!! I’m SO unbelievably thrilled at the number of people who have been genuinely interested in this story, and I hope you all enjoy reading this!

tag list!! ♡: @ehlsea, @birdquils, @ladywithalamp, @rijeke, @of-a-hamartia, @angelolytle, @bootlegpoem (ask/dm/reply for + / - )

Part One

“Lying is done with words and also with silence.” - Adrienne Rich

                                                         Prologue

                                                            1914

                                                        New York

In this place place between a dream and a memory, a small clearing in the woods provides a whispered haven beyond the limits of the small town near the outer edge of the city. Here, the grass is thick and soft against the hard ground and the ambling chatter of insects in the woods the young man standing alone. His shaking breath sounds harsh in his ears as he turns his eyes up to the tall trees stretching their limbs up in a patchwork quilt of summer green towards the sky.

The moment is one of peaceful serenity, yet the tension he holds tight in his chest is enough to make the simple beauty of the moment lost to him as he looks behind his shoulder once more. He knows as well as the other that the two of them should not be here. No law prohibits them from occupying the same space, but the implication would still remain jarringly clear should anyone catch them now. The large rock in the middle of the clearing is tall enough to sit against as he waits, looking down at his hands. He breathes; nobody knows that they are here, and they would both be okay. He tells himself this again and again, a mantra of desperate reassurance in his own mind.

When the other arrives, he smiles and the two join hands. But the other seems distracted, his eyes unfocused as they dart from his companion to the trees around them. The other pulls out a small, makeshift locket from his pocket and places it into his hands, insisting that he keep it as close to his heart as he can. He says this because the other has to go away to fight in the war: the War to End All Wars. The war that would devastate Europe and bring the United States into its bloody fray.

He begs the other not to leave. But he knows as well as anything that the other has no choice. It was this, or be labeled as a draft dodger for life. He cries the tears of a boy losing a piece of his heart for the first time.

It would not be the last time he would cry this way.

But for this moment, the two of them sit in an uneasy silence. He rests his head against the other’s shoulder and tells him that he loves him and that he doesn’t want him to go. The other doesn’t want to go, either. But it is all the same. The other knows that he must.

When they embrace and say their goodbyes, the other promises he will return to see him again.  That this will feel like little more than a bad dream. They would be together like they should be, like their dreams told them that they should be. It’s a promise that the other intends to keep.

But as the year stretches by, the days roll into weeks that amble on into endless months and the promise ends in tragedy. The man is left watching the other on a musty hospital bed, his skin growing cold to his touch as he steps back from the bed in horror. As his ears ring, he feels like he can hear the frantic struggle of his heart clinging to life. His vision darkens and blurs, and he sways on his feet as the frantic beating reaches a high, shrill sound. Again. And again. And again. And —

                                                      Chapter One

                                               December 7th, 1982

                                               New York, New York

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound of the fax machine startles Aaron awake from where he had been dozing off in his chair, shaken by the sudden noise in the quiet office cubicle by his messy desk. Aaron sucks in a quick breath, scowling to himself as he averts his eyes from Michael, who shares a cubicle with him, although they rarely speak by Aaron’s own choice. The dream lingers behind his eyes for a brief moment, its colors and strange bends and turns of a different life hanging just at the edges of his consciousness.

It’s forgotten as quickly as it comes as Aaron shifts upright in his chair. Michael casts him an uneasy gaze from the machine as Aaron wipes a hand across his face, clearing his thoughts.

“Your desk phone rang a few times,” he points out. “Reception said someone’s trying to get ahold of you. I figured I’d let you sleep for a minute – you looked exhausted."

Aaron frowns and shakes his head. He blinks back the sleep in his eyes, shuffling himself upright in the creaky office chair. Michael gives him a pitying stare.

“It’s nothing,” Aaron says with a wave of his hand. He turns back to his paperwork before Michael can say another word.

It’s nothing, and he doesn’t need to look into who is calling him, either, when he already knows exactly who it is. If Serena is going to badger his phone with every goddamn update under the sun, he’s going to disconnect the phone for good, upper management be damned. 

She’s the reason he didn’t sleep last night, anyway.

His hand trembles as he picks up the pen again, trying to finish the form he had been filling out before his grip slackens, causing him to drop it onto the desk. He curses, his knee coming up and banging against the underside of the desk with a loud clamour of the gray tins of pencils and word processor sitting on top. Aaron bares his teeth, biting down hard enough to make his jaw ache with a quiet groan

Michael eyes him warily. “You alright?”

“Yes. I mean — yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

The only thing that keeps him from screaming is the other, filled cubicles who would surely lose their minds if he loses his own shit now, including Michael. 

Aaron mumbles something about needing to take a shit and practically runs from his cubicle, storming into the private stall and slamming the door behind him. His labored breathing feels impossibly loud in the small space and his head spins like he’s been thrown into a washing machine.

If she calls me one more time –

He shakes his head, forcing the thought to stop before it completes itself. He knows that he’s slipping, losing his mental grip on his thoughts as his hands grasp the dingy sink hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

If she calls you one more time, you’ll spill your coffee on your desk phone and make it look like an accident. You’ll unplug the damn thing and have a day of peaceful, boring work and go home and not think about her or the –

Aaron can’t finish the thought. He knows he has to get his shit together if he’s going to make it through the rest of the day without breaking something.

He quickly turns on the sink and splashes water onto his face, blinking away the dizziness. With a huff of breath, he grasps for the bathroom handle and stalks back to his desk. He sits down, ignoring what he knows are the concerned stares of his coworkers, and stares at the form once again.

Keep it together.

The phone rings.

He jerks his hand and the phone slides across his desk. Aaron manages to catch it before it tumbles onto the floor. His eyes dart to the coffee mug sitting idly by the screen, and for a long, hysterical moment, he actually considers doing what he told himself he would do in the bathroom. But his hands feel mechanical, as if controlled by invisible strings being pulled by a God surely reveling in his own misery. He lifts the phone and places it against his ear.

“Yeah,” he answers quickly, trying to find his bearings. “Yes. It’s Aaron. What is it?”

“Aaron Duggar, Serena Baker has been trying to get a hold of you from the New York State Hospital.”

Aaron’s hand tightens on the phone. He almost doesn’t hear her.

“Sorry – what?”

“I’m sorry, Aaron, we tried to get a hold of you earlier. She said she’s going into labor.”

He can feel the color drain from his cheeks as he holds the phone to his ear. He blinks in numb disbelief, his hand trembling as he opens his mouth twice to speak, his own voice weak and hoarse.

“That isn’t possible,” he says flatly, as though the receptionist has any say in the matter. “She’s – no. She’s a month early.”

“I’m just letting you know what she told us. If you need to go, we can put in a word with HR and – “

Aaron drops the phone onto the desk without hanging up. 

You don’t have to go to the hospital! he practically screams at himself.You don’t have to have anything to do with this.You rid yourself responsibility months ago, but Jesus Christ, a month early?!

But even he knows that it isn’t true. He had given himself responsibility when he chose to go with her to the doctor’s office during the first month of her pregnancy. He gave himself responsibility when he didn’t run out the door then and there as she wept over the positive pregnancy test, and when something in his chest hurt, despite his refusal to admit that he cared, when Serena’s parents renounced her for good over their daughter bearing an “illegitimate child.”

No good daughter would do this to them, they had said, as though the baby growing like a tumor in her womb would put a curse on their family name. 

He hears Michael’s concerned voice somewhere beyond the fog shrouding his thoughts. Aaron leaves work without saying a word to anybody, throwing the front doors of the New York State Credit Bureau open. He doesn’t look back, only climbs into his car, and drives. He doesn’t wear a seatbelt, and he doesn’t realize that he is taking up two lanes until a loud horn from an oncoming car jarres his senses into hyperalert. All the while, the word labor echoes in his ears like a chant.

Aaron Murphy Duggar is not ready to look Serena in the eyes as she brings their daughter into the world. He isn’t ready for their premature baby to be here and present and tiny and completely dependent on the two of them for life.

He isn’t ready to be a father. 

Aaron drives as it begins to rain.

[terriblelifechoices]

Well, today has been entertaining.  I have started a batch of strawberry liqueur, acquired nearly 40 lbs of frosting for Operation: Wedding Cake and finally seen Aquaman.  I am also almost done with 이모 sock #1, so all in all I think it has been a productive day.  I am celebrating with comment fic.

This was originally written for solarfox, thanks to their comment:

I wonder how Galahad would react to a younger sibling having to be his nurse because both his parents are gone and the next oldest sibling is working.

The answer is: with more grace than I would. 

New York, July 1958

The Pukwudgies had invaded.

Galahad squinted at his youngest siblings, trying to make sense of the world.  Nothing made sense at the moment, least of all the invasion of the Pukwudgies, but he was an Auror and a Graves and he felt honor bound to try.

“What --” he began, resisting the urge to cough.  He succeeded for all of five seconds -- a new record -- and then the jagged coughs burst free and he couldn’t stop.  He pitched forward, unable to catch his balance and cough and try to breathe all at the same time in his weakened state, and probably would have landed on his face if someone hadn’t caught him.

When had baby Dag gotten so tall, he wondered.

“Not a baby,” Dag said, reflexive.

Lyo patted Galahad’s cheek.  “He’s not.  You’re still a disaster, though.”

“Shut up,” said Galahad, pulling away from Dagonet and staggering back down the hall towards his bedroom.  “M sick, not a disaster.”

“You dosed yourself with homemade Pepper-up,” Lyo said, merciless.  “Which was dumb for multiple reasons.”

“You don’t need to tell me the reasons,” said Galahad.

“Oh, but I’m going to,” said Lyo, who had clearly taken lessons from Ollie and Ellie in the fine art of being mean to her older brothers.

Why were all of Galahad’s sisters so mean, he wondered.

“Because we have to put up with our dumbass brothers,” said Lyo.  “Now.  Getting back to the reasons you are a dumbass whose homemade Pepper-up didn’t work.  One: you are tragically, embarrassingly terrible at Potions.”

“Am not,” said Galahad.  He was not tragically, terribly embarrassing at anything, thank you very much, Lyo.  He might not have had Uncle Robert or Arthur even Lance’s instincts for Potions, but that was hardly embarrassing.

“Two: you live with a Healer,” said Lyo.

“Debatable,” said Galahad.  Aurors and Healers were both shift workers, so while it was nice to live with someone who understood insane scheduling, it also meant he went a long time without seeing his fiancé sometimes.

“Technicalities are for criminals, sophists and lawyers,” Dag sing-songed, quoting Dad.

“You could have gotten Sam to give you proper Pepper-up,” Lyo continued, as if neither of her brothers had spoken.  “Or you could have had her treat you.  But no.  You tried to medicate yourself.”

Galahad wanted to argue that point and couldn’t.  He had tried to medicate himself.  Although in his defense, he’d been working a lot because everyone else was out with the flu, and Sam had been working a lot because everyone kept coming in with the flu, and he hadn’t really seen her and couldn’t ask her to treat him.

“Yeah, that’s actually point three,” said Lyo.  “Working three weeks without a day off was really dumb, Galahad.”

Galahad frowned at her.  Lyo was not any kind of Legilimens -- thank Merlin and Morgana and all of Arthur’s knights.  She was terrifying enough without the ability to read minds.  All of his sisters were terrifying enough without the ability to read minds.  He’d never have been able to keep up with them, otherwise.

So why was she arguing with him like she could read his mind?

Both of his youngest siblings stared at him.

Galahad sighed.  “I’m saying all of this out loud, aren’t I?”

“How bad is your fever?” Dag asked, reaching out to press the back of his hand to Galahad’s head.  “Yeah, you should go lie down now.”

“I was lying down,” Galahad grumbled, shuffling into his bedroom.  “And then you invaded.”

“Oh, no,” said Dag.  “No, no, no, no, no.”

Galahad blinked at him.

“This is disgusting,” Dag declared, gesturing at Galahad’s bed.  “You are not sleeping in this germ-infested pigsty.”

Dag was kind of melodramatic sometimes.  Galahad mostly chalked it up to the fact that Dag was sixteen.  Also, possibly channeling Papa, who wasn’t as melodramatic but would probably also have things to say about the level of cleanliness in Galahad’s apartment.

It was a little bit pathetic, but Galahad really did want his Papa right now.  Papa was soothing, and he made the best soup, and he would have dealt with the invasion of the Pukwudgies firmly and quietly.

Ugh, why did Dad and Papa pick this month to go visit the Scamanders?

“There you go,” Dag said, gesturing to Galahad’s bed.  The bed had been made and -- because Galahad’s littlest brother thought he was funny -- also swapped for a fresh set of sheets that had tiny nifflers on them.  “Are you gonna fall in and drown if you shower?”

“Just let me sleep, brat,” Galahad growled, and had another coughing fit.  He collapsed into his bed and discovered that the ridiculous niffler sheets smelled like lavender and cedar, the way the linens at Graves Manor did.

“Fine,” said Dag.  “Sam can always give you a sponge bath or something later.  You can play Healer.”

Galahad had another coughing fit, in lieu of addressing the frankly appalling mental imagery that statement evoked.  Dag was not old enough for that level of innuendo.

“I’m sixteen!” said Dag.  “And you’re still monologuing like a crazy villain.  Please shut up.”

“Seriously,” said Lyo, reappearing.

Galahad was too tired to be terrified of where Lyo had been.  In his general experience, losing track of his younger siblings did not lead to good things, because they were wily and determined little monsters.

“I don’t want any traumatizing details,” Lyo explained.  “About anything, not just your sex life.”  She held up a hand to forestall anything Galahad might have said.

Galahad did not actually have anything to say, because he was feeling vaguely traumatized, or maybe vaguely terrorized.  It was hard to tell.  He was compromised and his brain was fuzzy, so everything was kind of vague right now.

“So you’re going to be a good little Auror and take your medicine and drink your soup and go to bed.”

“And you’ll go home?” Galahad asked.  He didn’t have enough energy to deal with any of his siblings right now, even if Dag and Lyo were being more helpful than any of the others would have been.

Also, he didn’t actually want the little brats to get sick.  That’d be a fine thing for Papa and Dad to return home to.

“Sure, Galahad,” said Dag, who was clearly lying.

“Then we’ll go home,” agreed Lyo, who was also a lying liar who lied.  She gave him a potion that tasted like feet, but she let him wash it down with a bowl of soup that was just as good as Papa’s, so he decided they could get away with lying for now.

Lyo curled up on the foot of his bed while he ate.  Dag settled into Sam’s armchair and pulled out his knitting.

“Why,” Galahad said flatly.

Dag had the audacity to roll his eyes at Galahad.  “Relax, big brother,” he said.

“You always take care of us,” said Lyo.  “It’s our turn to take care of you.”

As soon as Galahad had the energy to argue with them, he was sending a pigeon to Ollie and making her come deal with them.

“Ugh,” he conceded.

“Lyoooooo,” Dag whined fifteen minutes later.  At least, Galahad was pretty sure it was fifteen minutes later.  It could have been five hours, in his flu-addled state.  “I’m bored.  Tell me a story.”

Galahad wanted to call bullshit.  Dag had been self-entertaining ever since Papa and Aunt Dorothy taught him to knit.  As long as he had his needles and some yarn, he was never bored.  All of the Graves and Collins children had learned to knit, but Peter and Lyo and Dag were the only ones who’d stuck with it.  Galahad mostly approved, because if Dag had his needles he was also never unarmed, thanks to Dad’s tendency of finding ways to hide weapons in plain sight.  Every knitting needle Dag owned was a steel-silver alloy with a Pukwudgie-needle core, and could be thrown with deadly accuracy.

Calling bullshit would probably set off another coughing fit, though.  And whatever was in the potion Lyo had dosed him with made him sleepy, so it seemed like more effort than it was worth.

Lyo cleared her throat.  “A long, long time ago, when wizards lived alongside the No-Maj and neither feared the other, the steadiest of Arthur’s knights was his foster-brother --”

“No,” said Dag.

Galahad frowned at him.

“Fine,” said Lyo.  “The most beautiful woman in all the land was called Ygraine.”  She paused, in case Dag had some other mysterious objection, but when he said nothing she picked up the thread of the story.

Galahad fell asleep to the first Merlinian legend any of them ever learned, because it was the first one Dad had ever told Papa.  When he woke up, the most beautiful woman in all the land was taking his temperature and frowning at him like she thought he was an idiot.  But in a nice way, Galahad thought.  Like he was her idiot.

“Where are the brats?” Galahad asked.

“Lyo’s asleep on the couch, Dag’s in the study.”

“Oh, good.  How are you?”

“Better than you,” Sam said, amused.  Sam was his favorite Pukwudgie.  She stripped out of her Healer’s robes and into the loose cotton pajamas she wore in the summer.  She laughed at the ridiculous sheets and curled up behind Galahad, resting her head on his shoulder.

Galahad thought about protesting, but he didn’t actually mind being the little spoon.  He relaxed into the cuddle and went back to sleep.

Maybe the invasion of the Pukwudgies wasn’t all that bad.

Galahad’s opinion on being the little spoon are courtesy of one Detective Jake Peralta, who is absolutely correct:

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 15

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

A/N: Really, I couldn’t help myself posting this chapter in the same day as the previous. It’s a good place to stop for the week :P

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

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Chapter 15 - Brave

Twenty minutes later, Rae sat on the Curtis’s couch wearing a camisole and a baggy pair of pajama pants, borrowed from Sodapop. She hugged her knees to her chest and avoided Curly’s eyes. He was sitting in the chair across from the couch, watching her in silence, chewing on the inside of his mouth. Ponyboy had dragged himself in a few minutes before, yawning, after making sure Johnny got home safe, and dropped into bed. Darry was already asleep, but Soda had volunteered to make them some hot chocolate.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked, rubbing his temples.

"Well, Curly, I wasn’t sure,” she told him.

“And you’re sure now?”

“Well it sure sounded like her voice-”

“So you don’t know for sure?”

“It’s still…fuzzy.” He sighed, loudly, through his nose. “I’m...I’m pretty sure, Curly.”

“Alright, fine. You’re prob’ly right.”

“Why she would do this?”

"Who the hell knows. The older she gets the more out of control she is," Curly said, rolling his eyes. “Not like mom’s doin’ shit to straighten her out.” Soda came into the room, holding two mugs of steaming liquid and they both snapped their jaws shut. He handed one to each of them.

"Drink up. I'm goin’ to bed. Make sure to wash those when you’re done," Soda ordered and made for the room he shared with Pony. Rae took a sip from her mug and set it on the table next to the couch.

"I think she’s been doin’ more than just grass," Curly admitted, once he’d heard the door close, and set his hot chocolate down as well. “She was prob’ly pretty blitzed. Heroin. She tries to hide it, but most of the time it’s pretty damn obvious. Brumly’s been pushin’ it for a while now and she’s been gettin’ real friendly with-”

"Yeah, what a great excuse to beat the shit outta someone," she muttered, cutting him off. "If your mom ain’t gonna do shit, maybe you an’ Tim should put a leash on that girl yourselves.”

"Hey, she’s still my sister," Curly hissed, annoyance lacing his words.

"Yeah, and she hit me hard enough to knock me out and almost broke my fuckin’ nose!" Rae let her legs go and her feet slid to the floor. Her back bristled as she sat up. “She can’t be allowed to just do what she wants, Curly. She’s fourteen and she’s high on heroin? One of these days she’ll fuck with the wrong person and she’ll end up dead!” Frustration boiled up inside of her- and even maybe a little jealousy. Curly was gripping the arms of the chair, tightly.

“Don’t ya think I know that? Who d’ya think’s been turning her in so she’ll get sent to rehab?” His voice wobbled a little. After all these years, she’d never seen Curly cry before. Realization struck her.

Of course. Why wouldn’t he defend his sister? She’d defend Dally to her dying breath.

The fight instantly left her and she mentally kicked herself for feeling the way that she did. Rae leaned her head against the back of the couch and took a deep breath to calm herself down. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling. She was getting real tired of these God damn mood swings. “I’m sorry. I just wish I knew why.”

“You’re right, okay?” he started and sighed. “You’re right. Maybe we should’a kept more an eye on her instead of lettin’ her run wild. Maybe we’ve given her too much freedom, knowin’ what she was doin’ with it.” She heard him stand up and move over to her. He sat down on the cushion beside her. She lifted her head and he stretched his arm out to lay across her shoulders.

“I ain’t feelin’ like myself, Curly,” Rae sighed, leaning into his body. “Ever since…” She trailed off, not knowing how to continue. He nodded, knowingly. “I don’t know. I’m so mad all the time. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“You’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks,” he reminded her.

“I know, but…” She heaved a sigh. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

"I don’t think I could ever hate ya," he said and kissed the top of her head. She blinked the tears from her eyes and sat up to face him. His crooked smile appeared and she leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. Curly threaded his fingers in her hair and Rae felt a chill run up her spine. He grasped the back of her head and brought her lips against his. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, excitement running through her veins.

He gently laid her back on the couch, only disconnecting their lips for a few short breaths. She let it happen, feeling the exhilaration all the way in her fingertips. She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him harder.

Before long, though, Rae felt his hands wander down to the tie of her pants. She felt a tug, the string trying to be undone. The heat turned to ice in a second and her stomach soured. She turned her head away from his mouth. He started leaving a trail of small kisses down her exposed neck, not sensing her discomfort. Her hands started to shake, her breath becoming short.

“Curly?”

“Hm?”

“Curly, please-.” She pushed against his chest.

Instantly, he was up, looking down at her, eyes wide with worry and fear.

"I-I don’t think I can-," she stuttered. The look he gave her-

"I'm- I’m sorry," he breathed. She sat up, slowly. "I'm-"

"It’s okay,” she told him. “You stopped. It’s fine. I just-”

"But I shouldn’t have even-"

"Don’t worry." She put a shaky hand on top of his and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Just not yet.” He nodded, turning his hand and tightening his fingers around hers. She gave him a small smile.

"I’d-I’d better get home. Tim’ll be wantin’ his truck back and I gotta go all the way back to the school to get it." He reached out and stroked her cheek with his thumb, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He leaned in and kissed her carefully, like she was a porcelain doll that might break if handled roughly. At this point, maybe she was. “Goodnight.”

"Be careful," Rae whispered when their lips separated.

“Always am.” He got up and went for the door, looking thoughtful and upset. Her heart squeezed at the sight of his face. He paused just outside and gave someone outside a solemn nod, then rushed down the steps and into the dark. A few seconds later, Dally walked in, watching Curly leave, over his shoulder. He turned to Rae.

"Hey, kid," he said. Rae smiled, softly.

"Hey, Dal." He slipped his jacket off and laid it over the arm of the chair. She offered him the seat Curly had just been sitting in. Her brother dropped down onto the couch.

“Did ya’ll have a good time tonight?” She shrugged.

“It was alright. Pretty fun until some drunk asshole knocked me over and ripped my dress.”

“Soc?”

“Who else would get away with pullin’ that shit in public?”

“Good point,” Dally conceded. They were both quiet for a few seconds. “So anyway- I’m real proud of ya.”

"Proud?" Rae asked, turning to him. “For what?”

"Most broads wouldn’t say no." Rae looked over to the large front window.

“Were you outside the whole time?” she asked, cheeks turning to fire.

“Not the whole time.” She groaned and covered her eyes with her hands. He smirked. She fell over into his lap.

“Ohhh,” she groaned. “That’s so embarrassing!” He moved her hands and looked down at her.

“It was real brave.”

“Thanks, Dally,” she said, smiling up at him. Then he flicked her on the forehead hard enough that her skull made a thunk. “Ow!”

“Just don’t let it go to your head.” She scoffed, but examined his face closer.

“You look tired.”

“That ain’t very nice. And I just went outta my way to-”

"I know it’s my fault, isn’t it?" she concluded. Her brother frowned. “I know it is.”

"What makes ya think that?" he asked, looking down at her.

"You’re always stuck lookin’ after me,” she answered. “Instead of doin’ the things ya wanna do.”

"Don’t you ever think that," Dally ordered, his voice sharp. “I can’t say it ain’t hard at times-but kid, if I didn’t wanna look after ya, I wouldn’t.” He shrugged. “Besides, I can still look after ya- and do plenty of things I want.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large wad of cash. “Speakin’ of, I made a killin’ at the rodeo tonight.” Rae sat up and watched him flip through the bills, counting them quicker than she could.

“Damn,” she squeaked. When he was finished, he put the money back into his pocket.

“Anyway, it’s late. Get to bed,” he said with a nod in the direction of the free bedroom down the hall.

“What about you?” she asked her brother as she made to stand up.

“I’ll take the couch.”

“Why? It ain’t like we never slept in the same bed before.”

“Go to bed,” he ordered, firmly.

“Fine,” Rae pouted, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. She’d always loved when they were kids- camping in each other’s rooms, the comfort she felt when he was next to her. It was really something she could use right about now...

She padded across the living room and headed for Soda’s abandoned room. Across the hall, she could hear his snoring through the closed door of Ponyboy’s bedroom. With a sigh, she went to the empty room and dropped into the bed.

Rae turned on to one side and clutched the quilt tightly around her body. Exhaustion flooded her body as she relaxed, and she closed her eyes, thinking back to when she and her brother were younger.

Rae and Dally sat on the floor in the front room of their New York home. Her big brother had a busted lip, drying trails of blood dripping down his chin, and a dangerous look on his face. Their mother knelt down in front of them and reached out to clean his face with her handkerchief, but jumped at the loud yell that came from outside the open door. She dropped the cloth on the floor.

"Let’s go, woman!” Rae could see her mother’s hand trembling.

"I’m sorry," she whispered and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt. “Please, Dallas, take care of your sister.” He nodded. Their mother smiled, sadly, and then went to meet their father outside. This was their usual exchange.

The two siblings sat perfectly still until the car roared to life and pulled away from the curb. Dally wiped his chin with the sleeve of his shirt and looked at Rae.

"Okay?” he asked.

"Okay,” she answered, lip starting to quiver. She was lucky- she’d escaped the wrath of her father’s fists, but only because Dally had taken it all for her. She saw her brother’s fists clench. Tears formed in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

"What are big brothers for? I promised mom I’d always take care of you." He helped her to her feet. "Come on." He lead her to her room and put her to bed. She refused to let go of his hand, though, so he climbed in with her. They pulled the blanket over their heads and he told her ghost stories until Rae’s eyes started to droop and she curled up next to him, soaking in the comfort of his presence. Her small body stopped quivering and soon enough, she felt sleep overcome her.

Rae felt movement in the bed behind her. She cracked open her eyes but the room was dark, except for the light of the streetlamp barely filtering in through the blinds. She laid still and felt a body lay down next to hers.

"I'm sorry for not keepin’ my promise,” she heard Dally murmur. She wondered if he was thinking of the same night, or if he even knew she was awake. She pressed her back against his. Warmth spread over her- warmth and safety. Rae felt him relax against her and she listened until her brother’s breathing evened out. With a smile, she closed her eyes and let herself doze off again.

[on-my-way-to-asgard-blog]

I Put Your Picture Away

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky and Y/N were in a loving relationship, it was the type of relationship that everyone was jealous of. They loved each other with all of their being, but what happens when their picture perfect relationship falls apart? How do they survive the aftermath?

Warnings: mentions of drug use, and alcohol abuse, Bucky being a fuck boy, angst, mentions religion, fluff if you squint

A/N Hi! I’m trying something different with this fic, I based it off the song “Picture” by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow. I really liked writing this one, and I hope that you all enjoy it as much as I did! (If you want to listen to the song, be warned it is a country song)

Living my life in a slow hell Different girl every night at the hotel I ain't seen the sunshine in three damn days

Bucky was off the rails, she was the only one who kept him sane, and now because he fucked up, she's gone. Just like that the only person who held him together was out of his life in a blink of an eye. To some how try to keep himself from falling off the deep end, Bucky distracted himself in every way possible. He tried exercising, like Steve suggested, but that didn't help at all; every mile he ran more and more memories of Y/N piled in his head. Then it was onto writing his feelings on paper, as suggested by Vision, which didn't help either, he would always end up writing about the time he spent with her. He only found relief in complete and utter distraction, and that came in the form of sexual pleasure. Bucky has always been a ladies man, so finding ones that were willing to have no stings attached sex wasn't hard; he rented a hotel room out of town, away from Y/N, and women became his objects of attention. As bad as it sounds it's true, he could care less about the woman in his bed, all he cared about was the one that got away, Y/N. He could feel himself slipping into a hellish darkness, one in which Y/N could only guide him out of.

Been fueling up on Cocaine and Whiskey Wish I had a good girl to miss me Lord I wonder I'll ever change my ways

Along with women, Bucky had turned to drugs and alcohol to cloud her face from his mind. Before she left, he would have never even touched drugs, he was in the Army, he is an Avenger for crying out loud, his best friend does anti-drug PSAs in schools. That's how bad Y/N messed him up, he was willing to throw everything that he has worked for down the drain just to get her out of his head. She probably doesn't even miss him, she was everything to him, and the thought that she is completely fine kills him. He had to do the one thing that she asked him not to huh? Why was he so stubborn?

I put your picture away Sat down and cried today I can't look at you while I'm laying next to her

This was a rare occasion that Bucky had anytime to himself when he's at home. Usually when he's in New York, he's with the team on a mission, but it's been a slow week. For most people having days off would be a blessing, but not for Bucky, to him days off are curses. They give him too many situations where his mind can wander, wander to her; her smile, her laugh, the smell of her hair, and how after a long mission she would wrap her arms around him, clinging to him happy because he's back home. He shakes his head, he can't let himself do this. Picking up his phone, he calls one of his regular hook ups, Rachel. "Hey Buck,"she says pick up on the first ring. "Are you in Manhattan,"the super soldier asks bouncing his leg up and down nervously.  "Yeah, actually I am. Why? Do you want me to meet you at the hotel?" "How fast can you get to the tower?"  "In about ten minutes." "I'll see you then." He lets her up and leads her onto the floor he shares with Steve. Thankfully, he and Sam were up state at the Avengers compound, so he didn't have to hear the riot act from him, about what he's doing is wrong and blah blah blah. It works. Everything was going fine, until Rachel knocks a picture off the dresser, breaking it. Apologizing profusely, she picks it up, and a funny look appears on her face. "What is it Doll,"Bucky asks walking over. "Who is she,"Rachel asks showing him a picture of him with his arms wrapped around Y/N's shoulders. That was the happiest that either of them were in their lives,"Listen I know that you and I are just hooking up for fun, but you two look happy in this picture. What did she do to you?" "I think you should go,"he says looking at the ground. "Buck, I didn't mean to-" "I said go." She gathers her clothes and scurries out of his room, and he could care less. He picks up  the broken frame and looks at the happy couple in the picture, oh how he would give up his right arm to go back to that moment. He feels a tear roll down his cheek, then another, and many more follow. He is the Winter Fucking Soldier! He should not be crying over a girl! But he lets the tears fall, until he can't cry anymore. He throws the picture, broken glass and all, in the back of his closet, trying to forget it forever. Bucky reaches for his box where he keeps his stash, and opens it, but doesn't take anything out. He can't bring himself to chase the high anymore.

I caught you last night in the hotel Everyone knows but they won't tell But their half-hearted smiles tell me something just ain't right

Y/N had been moping for weeks now, ever since she and Buck got into that fight, the same night he walked out of her life, and he hasn't came back. She has completely barricaded herself in her apartment, and has surrounded herself with the memories of what once was. Natasha and Wanda finally convinced her to go out to let loose, and try to get Bucky out of her head. "Can we go somewhere outside of Manhattan,"Y/N asks, not wanting to be somewhere where there is any possibility of seeing him. Y/N decides on a hotel just outside of the city, who's bar has really good reviews. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the club,"the red head asks. "No I don't even want the possible chance of seeing him." The two female Avengers give their friend small sympathetic smiles. Y/N's first and only drink of the night was a glass of white wine, and she barely gets it in her hand when she sees a very familiar glint of silver. The glass falls to the ground shattering into a million pieces (along with her heart), there he is right here. Apparently they had the same idea, great minds do indeed think alike huh? And to push the knife deeper into her heart, she spies a scandalously dressed woman on his arm. It looks like James Barnes didn't have any problem moving on did he?

I've been waiting on you for a long time Fueling up on heart aches and cheap wine I ain't heard from you in three damn nights

Y/N pours herself another glass of wine, and settles in for another lonely night, with a mind filled with memories of Bucky. Maybe, she shouldn't have gotten mad at him for taking the mission. Maybe she should have let him live his own life, how he wanted to. But maybe, she was rightfully mad, he knew how she felt about him posing as the old Winter Soldier on missions. It's not like he was just using the name, as a means to strike fear in to the targets in the mission; no what he did was pose as the ACTUAL Winter Soldier, like speaking Russian and everything. He KNEW that that was the only thing that made Y/N scared and worried about Bucky. And it wasn't like Nat couldn't do it, he took the mission on his own accord, which sent her over the edge. When he go home a week later, Tony had told her what Bucky had done, and she was livid, one thing led to another, and next thing they both knew was that Bucky was walking out the door with a bag of clothes in his hand. Running a hand through her hair, Y/N shakes the thought out of her head. Bucky is the one who took the mission, he's the one who walked out on what they had. He hasn't even tried to call her, nothing, the longest that she has gone with out talking to him, was three days. Even on missions he would call her and tell her that he's okay. She gets her phone out, and calls one of her friends from work, Mark, hoping for a little distraction, James Barnes style.

I put your picture away I wonder where you've been I can't look at you while I'm laying next to him

"Yeah I'll be there in about fifteen minutes Y/N." "Okay see you then," the woman says hanging up her phone. If Bucky can sleep with every girl who crosses his path, so can she. Y/N has never done anything like this, ever, she had only had a handful of boyfriends before Bucky, and he's the only one that she slept with. She walks into the bath room to freshen up, she washes her face, looks at herself in the mirror. Same h/c hair, same e/c eyes, same freckles, it should be the same woman right? One would think that, but Y/N is not the same person that she was when she was with Bucky. She was happier, her eyes had a sparkle in them that only he can put there; taking a deep breath she opens her medicine cabinet and pulls out a small picture. It is a photo that Steve took at a Yankees game, Bucky has his arm around Y/N shoulders, and she is leaning her head on him. Wearing old ball caps, they are both looking at the fireworks going off in the distance, the sparkles in the sky, perfecting mirroring the glitter in both of their eyes. She doesn't let the tears roll down her cheek, no matter how bad she wants to, so instead she sticks the picture in a travel bag and throws in under the sink, forgetting about it. There's a knock at the door, she looks at herself in the mirror one last time, and lets Mark in to distract her.

I saw you yesterday with an old friend

Walking down the street, Y/N sees the same glint of silver like she did that night all those weeks before, and then she hears Steve's infectious laugh. Taking a deep breath she mentally prepares herself for the impending encounter with what once were her two favorite super soldiers. She rounds the corner, only to be greeted by a,"Hey Y/N,"from Steve. "Hi Steve,"she says not making eye contact with Bucky.

It was the same old same how have you been

There she was, walking down the street, looking as beautiful as ever. Bucky and Steve were out running errands when he saw her; Steve had been bugging him for two weeks to call her and apologize for being stupid. He almost did, but he knows that both him and Y/N are too stubborn to go back to each other. "Hey Y/N,"Steve says as she rounds the corner where they are standing. "Hi Steve,"the woman answers, averting her eyes from Bucky, and he is tempted to do the same, but instead a,"Hey Y/N," came out of the soldier's mouth. "Hey Buck,"Y/N says quietly. "How have you been?" "I've been fine thank you, and what about you?" "I've been okay." And with that she walks away, but she seated herself firmly in Bucky's mind.

Since you've been gone my world's been dark and gray You reminded me of brighter days

That little interaction with Steve had reminded them of the people both of them used to be when they were with one another. He was so much more open than he used to be, she brought him out of the shell that HYDRA forced him into. And she was so much more confident about herself when she was with Bucky, before Y/N was very shy and kept to herself a lot, he showed her what she was capable of. They brought out the best in each other.

I hoped you were coming home to stay I was headed to church

Seeing James brought up feelings inside Y/N that she hadn't tried to think about in a while. A little part of her wanted to ask him to come back, and apologize for what happened. But the other part of her, the part that's too stubborn for her own good, knew that if she did that, he would do the same thing. It wasn't often that she consulted a higher power in situations like this, and she wasn't even sure she even believed in one, but Y/N went to church anyway. She was not only desperate for guidance and answers, but something to take her away from Bucky.

I was off to drink you away

Seeing Y/N again, got under Bucky's skin, he finally thought that he was getting over her, but no. She had to come back and not even do a single fucking thing, just seeing her made him feel like a teenager with a broken heart. Walking into the nearest bar, he crawled inside of a whiskey bottle, in hopes of forgetting her face.

I thought about you for a long time Can't seem to get you off my mind I can't understand why we're living life this way

They both know that they were happier with each other, they both know that they were perfect for each other, they both know that they only reason that they are putting themselves through all of this is that they are both too stubborn. Then why don't they both just apologize? Which is what each of them have been think about for weeks. Bucky knows that if he promises that he won't pull a Winter Soldier stunt again, she will let him come back. And Y/N knows that if she doesn't over react as much, and she talks to him instead of blowing up, he would come back.

I found your picture today I swear I'll change my ways I just called to say I want you to come back home

Bucky was cleaning out his closet. Y/N was packing for a much needed vacation. When he grabs a piece of glass with his flesh hand. When she sees piece of paper sticking out of her travel bag. He follows the trail of broken shards, and is greeted by the picture he threw in there so many weeks ago. She grabs a corner and pulls out the picture of her and Bucky at the baseball game. He smiles to himself, and grabs his phone, it's time to done being stubborn. She rushes to her phone, she can't live with out him anymore, but before she can dial his number, his face pops up on the screen. "Hello?" "Y/N?" "James?" "I found a picture of us, the one from Steve's birthday,"she knows the picture,"and it made me realize that we need to get over our stubbornness. Because I can't live with out you, and these past few months have been hell for me with out you." "Oh my gosh,"Y/N breathes out. "I'm sorry. I should probably stop talking now huh?" "No, Bucky I was about to call you and tell you the same thing." "Great minds  think alike huh?"

I just called to say I love you Come back home

"Bucky?" "Yes?" "If you want, you could come back home. I miss you so much, the apartment seems so empty with only one person living in it." There's silence on the other line, but then a knock on the door. Y/N opens it revealing James Barnes,"I was really hoping that you would say that, or else this would be awkward." They laugh, and he pulls her into his arms, a feeling that they have missed immensely. "I love you so much,"he says kissing the top of her head.

[redgillan]

Breaking the Rules - part 3

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:  Modern!AU You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

Word Count:2,157

Warnings: the usual +  Mention of Cheating, Mention of Emotionally Abusive Relationship

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter, lovelies!

Breaking the Rules - Masterpage

You woke up with a start, unsure where you were. The distant sound of laughter filled the room and you rolled to your side, groaning. The light filtering through the curtains was bright enough to see by, but your eyes were still blurry from sleep.

“It’s barely seven!” Bucky groaned.

His head appeared just above the mattress as he sat up from the floor. He was at eye level with you and yawned widely, not bothering to cover his mouth. You buried your face into the pillow, mumbling something about morning breath.

“So this is what you look like in the morning,” he said, stretching his back. “Interesting.”

You shoved him hard as you kicked the covers off and jumped out of bed. He fell back into his sleeping bag, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head. You made a beeline for the window; his mother and sisters were having breakfast on the patio.

“Oh, shut up!” you snapped, your eyes shooting daggers at him. “You don’t look better. Are those dark circles under your eyes or are you turning into a panda?”

“Hey, I just said you looked interesting.” His self-satisfied smirk made your blood boil.

“Yeah? Well, you look interesting, too.” You used your fingers to make air quotation marks around the word interesting. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take a shower. Now get up and make my bed.”

“What? No-”

“Rules #9, little panda,” you reminded him, closing the door behind you.

When you came downstairs for breakfast, there was an empty seat between Bucky and Lizzie. Mary handed you a glass of orange juice while Winnie introduced you to Rebecca.

“You can call me Becca,” she replied with a warm smile. “How long have you and Bucky been together?”

You looked thoughtful for a moment before you decided that a half truth was better than a half lie.  “We’ve been seeing each other for a year.”

“Love at first sight?” she asked.

To Bucky’s surprise and shock, you burst out laughing. He jabbed you in the ribs with his elbow, making you cry out. You recovered quickly and answered Becca’s question.

“Not really,” you sighed, preparing yourself mentally for what you were about to say. “But now, I love him so much, it physically hurts.”

You glanced at Bucky who was chewing with his mouth open, gleefully and on purpose. You drank your orange juice with a loud slurping noise that made him grit his teeth.

While the others talked about their plans for the day, Becca observed you and Bucky. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something strange going on between you and Bucky. Months ago, he had checked that he was coming with a guest, but last night, during dinner, you told them that it was a last minute thing.

She pondered the thought while they all cleared the table and washed the dishes. It pained her to see him like that; sad, distant and angry. He had been so emotionally damaged that he was now reduced to a shell of a man.

Bucky left the kitchen to return to his bedroom and found you already there, stuffing your phone into your purse. He crossed the room and flopped down on the bed, a content sigh leaving his lips.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes, your sisters are taking me to the mall. I would have mentioned it last night, but you were too busy throwing tantrums. Mary’s excited, though. She wants to move to New York and run a fashion business.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes closed.

“Anyway, I need your credit card.”

His eyes sprang open.

“According to the rules, you-”

“I have to buy you a dress and a pair of shoes,” he interrupted you. “Yeah, I remember.”

Without knocking, Mary burst into the room, startling you and Bucky.  There was a frown on her pretty face as she looked you over.

“What’s taking you so long? Come on! Let’s go, we only have four hours to find the perfect dress!” she nearly shouted, clapping her hands as if that would make you move faster. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

She rushed downstairs, her feet pounding the ground. Bucky took a step towards you and reluctantly handed you his credit card. Laughing like a villain in a Disney movie, you took your purse and left the room. Bucky face-palmed himself; you were going to be the death of him.

Mary and Lizzie took you to every clothing store they knew, but you were still searching for the perfect dress. Luckily, you found the dress in a boutique you had never heard of before. The dress was red and form fitting; the perfect combination of classy and sexy.

Your eyes widened when you looked at the price tag. That beautiful designer dress was worth more than you made in three months. Teasing Bucky was fun, but you were not going to spend all his money on a dress.

You took a last good look at yourself in the mirror and tried to find flaws in your flawless dress.

“That dress looks amazing on you!”

A woman was standing behind you and you raised your gaze to meet hers in the mirror. She had long, straight red hair and sparkling green eyes. You turned around to face her.

“Red’s your color, sweetie,” she said with a kind smile.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to sound polite and not weirded out. You weren’t used to random compliments. “But it’s too expensive.”

“The prices here are unbelievable,” the woman responded, sympathizing with you. “Still, it looks really good on you. Where did you find that dress?”

You pointed to a rack of clothes near the dressing rooms. She was about to leave when a little boy ran towards her. He hugged her long legs and she stumbled in her high heels, almost losing her balance. Chuckling softly, she ran a hand through the boy’s dark hair.

“I’m Dolores and this is my little guy, Louis.”

You told her your name and shook her hand. Louis had his mother’s eyes, as green as grass after a summer shower. His hair was a mess of chestnut curls that he most likely took after his father.

You parted ways soon after and you changed back into your clothes before you joined Mary and Lizzie who were waiting for you somewhere in the store. They were disappointed to see you come back empty-handed.

You found a pale lilac dress in a thrift shop for only twenty dollars; it was classy and cheap. Mary wasn’t thrilled, but Lizzie commented that Bucky would love the dress. You gave her a small smile. You were pretty sure Bucky wouldn’t care. You had only one goal -impress his ex-girlfriend.

As you stepped out of the mall, a hot dry breeze hit your face. The air was hot, almost suffocating and you had to remove your jacket. You sat in the front passenger seat and fastened your seatbelt while Lizzie started the car.

She drove back to her parents’ house with the windows rolled down, a warm breeze whipping through the car. After a moment of silence, you decided to ask them about Dot.

“What is she like?”

“She’s...” Lizzie drawled out, choosing her words carefully.

“She’s a manipulative bitch,” Mary replied from the backseat. “She’s always nice and polite, but there’s something evil about her.”

“Evil?” you snorted. “Seriously?”

“Dot’s a demon, but she’s engaged to the groom’s best man so she’ll be at the wedding.”

“What happened between her and Bucky?” you asked.

Lizzie looked in the rear view mirror and shared a puzzled look with her sister. “He never told you?”

“He doesn't talk about it.” It wasn’t a lie, you had never had a real conversation with Bucky.

“He really should be the one telling you this,” Lizzie said, her eyes focused on the road. “But we’ll tell you because you deserve to know.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. This was a terrible idea, you felt like you were invading his privacy.

“They met in high school and applied to the same colleges,” Lizzie began. “Bucky’s always been a straight-A student. He graduated with honors in History while Dot had to repeat her senior year. He decided to wait for her and took a job as a waiter. And since Dot lived on campus, he found a roommate to save money.

“To be honest, she practically lived with him and his roommate. She skipped classes and drank a lot while he was working his ass off. And then he received a job offer from his old high school after the history teacher retired. He rented a small studio apartment with the money he had saved up and moved in with Dot. Not long after that, she told him she was pregnant.”

“You have to understand that Bucky practically raised us,” Mary continued. “Our dad was deployed and our mom was too depressed to take care of us. Bucky prepared our meals, took us to school, did the laundry, and whatever else was necessary. He was just a kid; he’s two years older than Becca, seven years older than Liz and eleven years older than me.”

“Bucky’d always wanted to be a dad. Taking care of us must have triggered something. He was so happy when Dot got pregnant,” Lizzie recalled fondly before her smile fell from her lips. “She was four months pregnant when her obstetrician found something wrong with the child. They did some tests and... Well, Bucky couldn’t possibly be the father.

“She admitted cheating on him with his roommate, Scott. They kinda look alike, so she figured Bucky would never know. She broke up with Bucky, married Scott and divorced him ten months later. And now, Bucky lives in a big city, makes loads of money and never visits us anymore. She tore him to pieces.”

As she finished her story, Lizzie parked the car in the driveway. You followed the two sisters into the house and pondered over what Lizzie and Mary had said. Now you understood why he had freaked out the night before.

His friends were moving on and he was still haunted by his ex-girlfriend and her cruel lies. In a way, you understood his anger and lifestyle. If someone had crushed your heart and destroyed every dream you had ever had, you would probably have made some drastic changes in your life.

Every girls were potential Dots and he had to protect himself.

As soon as you walked into the kitchen, Winnie gave you two glasses of lemonade and told you to bring them to “the boys.” Bucky and Becca’s fiancé, Henry, were in the backyard, working on Becca’s car.

You left your bag in the kitchen and stepped onto the patio where you slipped off your sandals. The grass was warm under your feet as you crossed the backyard. A man you assumed was Henry took the glass you handed him.

“You’re a godsend. It’s so hot today.” He wiped his brows with the back of his hand and took a long sip of the cold drink. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Henry and I’m getting married this Sunday.”

You laughed. There was something about him that made you feel comfortable right away. He looked like a giant marshmallow.

You turned your head and saw a pair of legs clad in grease-stained jean poking out from under the car. Henry gave you a knowing smile and walked back towards the house, leaving you alone with Bucky.

He rolled out from underneath the car and almost hit his head when he saw you standing in front of him.

“You scared the shit outta me,” he grumbled as he got to his feet.

You were about to reply something when he removed his dirty white singlet and used it to wipe off his face. The words got stuck in your throat as you shamelessly ogled his half naked body. You quickly looked away when he threw his shirt on the grass.

“You okay?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. You nodded and gave him the glass of lemonade. “Thanks, I was dying.”

“You’re sweaty.”

“Well, yeah, it’s like 90 degrees.”

“You’re sweaty,” you repeated, your eyes locked on a trickle of sweat that was running between his pecs.

“Are you drunk?”

He leaned forward to smell your breath. His face was so close that you could see the smattering of freckles dotting his nose. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. Suddenly, the corners of his eyes crinkled and a laugh escaped his throat.

“Don't cross your eyes or they'll get stuck that way.”

“I wasn’t,” you responded, pushing him away.

“Yes, you were!” He stumbled back, laughing buoyantly. “It was amazing! Do it again!”

“Buttface,” you said, flipping him off as you backed away.

You walked back toward the house, Bucky’s laughter still ringing in your ears. Was that a flutter in your belly? Nope, nope, nope.

Part 4

[regrettablewritings]

Valentine’s Day Love Languages: Words of Affirmation

Credence Barebone was a young man starved of the most basic human needs of affection and affirmation. In her efforts to practice “tough love” upon her adoptive children, Mary-Lou Barebone’s methods had, instead bred socially negative results. Credence, being the biggest receptor and made a forced glutton of these “affections”, faired the worst of them all. Granted, this was assisted by the fact that he had became the unwilling host to a destructive manifestation of wrath and hatred. But even post-havoc and post-Obscurus separation, the deeds done onto him had been done: Credence was damaged.

By the time he’d reached his early 20s, he was a shy, withdrawn, extremely unimposing man, both physically and affectionately malnourished. He spoke quietly even when he didn’t want to, and found difficulty maintaining eye contact even more so than the average person. As much as he craved praise and approval, he rarely accepted that any such offers were genuine, let alone readily accepted them when they were.

You had known this even as you two initiated a relationship. You also knew that, upon being the first person whom Credence had ever dated or loved in a romantic sense, it would be unrealistic to expect him to suddenly change these things about himself.

As powerful as love was, it wasn’t some cure-all that suddenly scrubbed away the pain no matter how deep the love went. You’d known this before meeting Credence. But after meeting him, you’d learned yet another thing, something rather specific to people who’d undergone similar trials: The best you could expect your love for another, damaged person was that it could be used as a means to keep them going. To support them even during their lowest moments, to assure them some form of stability even when everything else to them was structured out of melting ice, to hold them when they wanted or needed it when the cold bite of loneliness returned or to provide them space whenever the world, small as it truly was, felt as though it was closing in on them to yell at them for their actions and failures.

That was the best thing you could hope to use your love for.

Of course, this didn’t mean that you refrained from doing anything else. Credence surely didn’t, as evidenced by the bouquet of your favorite flowers placed in a glass vase on the kitchen table. You’d woken up early that day and found yourself staring, a little surprised and very confused by the flowers’ presence. Credence had gone to bed with you at around 10:30 PM, right? Any florist would’ve been long closed by then. And where could he have possibly hidden them if he’d bought them any earlier than that? You pondered all the possibilities, trying to rethink the both of your schedules to place when he could have possibly gotten these flowers then you realized that one of the blossoms in the bunch wasn’t even in season.

Your heart flipped when you realized when Credence got these: He’d created them using magic. His own magic. A syrupy smile began to spread across your features, placing a hand over your heart out of reflex. Credence had only been practicing magic for the last couple of months with the Goldstein sisters and Mr. Scamander (whenever he was in the country). In spite of his obvious potential in terms of power, there was admittedly only so much he would be able to do at this point, so it was decidedly important that he be taught the most basic and practical of spells. There was a very likely chance that this floral-summoning wasn’t a standard spell for him to have learned at this point in the course timeline. Yet, he learned it just so he could do this.

As you observed the perfect and realistic replication of your favorite buds, you noticed a small note placed at the base of the vase and plucked it up to read what had been inscribed. There, scrolled in Credence’s small but elegant handwriting, was the message,

Just because. And I wanted these flowers to see a true example of beauty

Love, Credence

Correction: He learned it “just because” and because he felt that flowers should apparently take notes from you.

You had to take a seat. You were only up at this forsaken hour to get a glass of water, yet here you were, being charmed by your beloved boyfriend, proving he could literally make your heart race in his sleep. Your mind fluttered happily as you reread the note and reread some more, getting a rush of flattery with every glance until –

The previously silent kitchen was briefly filled with a saddened hum of realization: If you had done something similar to Credence, would he have reacted with the same glee as you had? Maybe. But also, there was a chance that he wouldn’t. While Credence had definitely been getting better and better at receiving gifts, compliments, etc., it was still a slow process. A very slow process. Not that you wanted to rush it (after all, what could your nine months of dating do to devalue decades’ worth of mental, physical, and emotional abuse?), but the point still stood: Credence made such an effort to make you feel good about yourself. Were you doing enough to say the same for him?

It had been three days since then that Credence awoke, blinking slowly at the note he’d found in your spot on the bed. It was around 10 o’clock in the morning, and usually you’d still be there. He was the early bird between the two of you, having been roused from his sleep at the crack of dawn for years during his time with the New Salemers. So he was quite surprised to find that not only were you gone, but your place on the bed was cool, suggesting that you had been gone for a long while. As he readjusted himself and rubbed the sleep from one of his eyes, he attempted to read the note:

You look so cute when you sleep. Younger and more innocent. I know this sounds a little weird, but I just thought you ought to know that I love it. I love how you hold me in your sleep, too …

Love, (Y/N)

His brows creased with confusion. Maybe he was just too tired to comprehend it? But the more awake he got, the more he could confirm that the letter said exactly what it’d initially read it to be. Strange. You never left notes like this …

He decided to pay little mind to it, though he did tuck away the fact that you called him cute and that you apparently did appreciate the physical contact he often initiated while unconscious – something he had apologized for multiple times in the past and secretly thought you had only given him a pass on out of pity. His lanky form forced itself from the bed, piloting itself into the bathroom to wash up. It was there, as he brushed his teeth, that Credence found yet another letter, one that was taped to the mirror:

I know you may not think it, but you should look into the mirror more often – you’re so darned handsome! (And no, it’s not vanity. It shouldn’t be vanity to recognize when you’re one good-looking creation.)

Love, (Y/N)

This note caused Credence to blush and still his brushing. This wasn’t the first time you’d called him handsome, far from it. However, this also wasn’t the first time he’d blushed to you saying such a thing. What was a first, however, was the term “one good-looking creation.” It was only as he began to try and calm down and resume his dental hygiene that he noticed a small P.S. written in the corner of the paper.

P.S. – I must admit, Credence, water has never looked so good cascading down a showering body.

Immediately, the tooth-brushing session ended, as signified by Credence spitting out the toothpaste in shock.

Seriously, what’s going on? Credence wondered as he made his way toward the closet for some clothes. He was a bit surprised and told himself a bit pleased that he found no letter in there amongst the suit jackets. But his self-conviction didn’t last long; he honestly felt a little disappointed, wanting to see just how far your comments would go. Usually you weren’t so brazen with your descriptions or praises.

But then, as though the letters were summoned by mere want, Credence found a slip of paper in the drawer amongst his dress shirts.

I like how you dress. It’s so becoming of the proper gentleman you are!

Love, (Y/N)

Credence bit his lip. This one wasn’t borderline vulgar whatsoever. He was thankful for this. However, he wasn’t entirely sure what made them think his style of dress was so dashing: After spending so long wearing the practically mandatory black of the New Salem Philanthropic Society, he felt too attached to venture too far beyond colder colors too often. As such, he mostly just wore more blacks, some greys, and dark blues if he was feeling especially daring for that day. Certainly, he would wear some brighter colors upon your request (read: You simply mentioning you liked this color or asking him if he would ever wear that color). But for the most part, he failed to see what set him apart from all the other tired-faced men who walked the streets of New York City in their drab, earthy attire.

“Because none of them are a gentleman like you, Credence!” he could hear your voice saying in his mind. That was the exact sort of thing you would say, too. It felt better having your voice confirm these worries, and yet, as he ran his thumb over the paper slip, he couldn’t deny the warmth that was beginning to swell inside of him with every rereading of the word “gentleman.” He allowed a small smile to slip, humoring for one instant that to someone – especially someone like you – he was the image of someone calm, caring, and dutiful.

The next note was found on the wall leading into the hallway:

Have you ever looked at our pictures? Really looked at them?

Credence became puzzled upon finishing the inscription. The message felt incomplete. He became even more so perplexed when he realized that there was no “Love, (Y/N)” to finalize the letter.

“(Y/N)?” he called. It wasn’t loud (very few things involving Credence were ever actually loud), but you would have likely heard him anyway. If you had, however, you made no response. More perplexity and hints of concern filled Credence’s features. “(Y/N)??” he repeated, a sense of purpose filled his words as if beckoning a reply from you immediately. Nothing. He tried not to dwell on it, not your silence, nor the note, and decided to continue his intended walk. As he covered more ground in the corridor, however, the seemingly meaningless words of the newest note echoed in his head. It tempted him. He looked up at the pictures lining the wall.

It was a pleasant enough mix of photos, in that some were still and from No-Maj cameras and others were moving and captured by cameras from the wizarding world. You’d managed to get No-Maj-style photos during events like picnics and fairs, both of which you and Credence weren’t necessarily supposed to partake in due to the high presence of No-Majs. However, you had never been one to take restrictions too easily, particularly ones that made the least amount of sense. You were practically Credence’s door to adventure, taking him along on your hijinks. As worried as they made his already skittish nature, he honestly had yet to experience anything with you that he didn’t enjoy to some extent. Probably because they were all with you.

The still image of the two of you holding hands in the park stared back at him, your blissful smile complimenting his own nervous one. As he passed an enchanted photo, the real Credence couldn’t help but watch the photographed versions of you two reenacting the actions that had occurred up until the photograph had officially been captured: You were trying to get Credence to create a genuine, calm smile. You tried quick jokes, you tried gently tickling his side. Eventually, you settled on kissing his cheek. That did it. By the time the real Credence had past that particular image, the Credence in the photograph was smiling goofily and blushing while the photographed version of you nuzzled his arm affectionately.

It wasn’t until Credence had reach the end of the hallway that he’d found the ending to the last note. It was located below the portrait you’d convinced him to have taken. He looked elegant and stern in the photo, like the capable men he would see in celebrity pictures. Men he aspired to be. As he plucked the note’s ending from the wall, he couldn’t stop himself from sighing through his nose and smiling warmly at the completed message:

Have you ever looked at our pictures? Really looked at them?

Because I have – and I’ll never take advantage of them again. Not only because I love it when you smile, but because the pictures that capture both your smiles and just you in general are special: You make them special. I love that you do these things with and for me even though you aren’t always sure of them. You’re so good to me, Credence.

Love, (Y/N)

A box sat on the table in the kitchen: Kowalski Quality Baked Goods. While Credence loved all of Mr. Kowalski’s confections, there were a select few that he especially enjoyed. He was, to be frank, thrilled like a child on Christmas to find all of his favorites placed delicately in the box. But perhaps what contributed to the feeling was the note attached to the inside of the lid:

You’re so incredibly sweet, I wonder if these baked goods are even a match for you. They probably aren’t, but they’re still delicious! Enjoy them, my sweet ♥

Love, (Y/N)

Credence found himself mulling over the latest addition to the growing stack of paper slips, particularly the addition of the heart. However, it was hard to think on an empty stomach, and you did insist that he help himself … As he went into the dish cabinet, he was greeted with a fluttering slip taped to the inside of the door:

You’re always so helpful. Even when you think it’s something little like reaching a plate for me, I appreciate everything you do. I honestly don’t know how I would fair without you, Credence.

Love, (Y/N)

When he went into the Frigidaire to retrieve some milk:

You’re refreshing to me, a rare being that I was lucky enough to encounter in the dense jungle that is New York City.

Love, (Y/N)

It eventually became apparent to Credence that the notes were everywhere. Not just in the kitchen, but in the sitting room as well.

Do you remember that night when I tried to teach you how to dance to the music on my gramophone? You got so nervous that you’d hurt me or that you’d look silly. But you persisted; I love that you keep trying, even when you claim that you would’ve have if it were years ago. Because if you’re trying this one thing, it means you’re trying to change.

Love, (Y/N)

Sometimes I just like sitting here in silence with you. It gives me time to think about how lucky I am to have you and how anybody else should be jealous. (In addition, you feel and smell divine!)

Love, (Y/N)

I’m so glad I found you. It’s like I’ve found an oasis for my heart, but it’s all Credence-shaped! And I would never have it any other way …

Love, (Y/N)

 I’m glad that you chose me. I’m glad that I get to share my life with you. I’m glad that in spite of everything, you’re still here and I’m allowed to love you and cherish you just as you ought to be loved and cherished, even if you don’t think so. I’m so glad you’ve allowed me to begin to build this life with you and even though it won’t be perfect (nothing is ever perfect, dear Credence), I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure that you’re repaid every little thing that convinced you that you wouldn’t get this. You are my support, my muse, my own personal miracle, and I’m so, so, so proud of who you are and who you have yet to become. And, if you’ll let me, I’ll always be there by your side to assure that even when you fall, you always rise back up and into the light where you’ve always been destined to be.

With Every Ounce of Love I Can Express, (Y/N)

You didn’t come back until nearly noon. The trip to the grocers had taken much longer than expected and at this point, you had become a little tired. It didn’t help that you’d gotten up earlier than usual to prepare for Credence your attempt at a gift.

But, you told yourself as you marched up the steps to your door, it’ll all be worth it … Right? You could only hope that Credence even so much as considered one of the letters. Even just the one consideration would be worth it in your eyes. It was therefore a surprise to you when you entered your apartment at long last to find Credence sitting at the table, smiling warmly at you as though you were made of the world’s sweetest pastries but he was too shy to even so much as sneak a taste. In his hands were all of the letters you’d left for him.

You returned the smile, albeit slightly more clumsily due to how unexpected his own was.

“Hello, Credence,” you greeted, placing your bags on the counter. “Did you sleep well?” You almost wanted to slap your forehead at how cheesy and forced you sounded, but you were quite honestly unsure of how to approach the obvious; you actually hadn’t considered that maybe Credence would be this outwardly effected by your gift, considering his past with compliments and gifts.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he greeted back. However, he didn’t answer your inquiry about his sleep pattern. Instead, he raised one of his hands, bringing the letters into view, and blushed ever so lightly. “May I ask what these were all about?”

“Hm?” You pretended as though they were nothing, growing a little flustered by them. You’d honestly felt a little embarrassed by just how vulnerable and mushy you had allowed yourself to be on them. Proud, but embarrassed nonetheless. “Oh, those! They were just,” you shrugged, “a little something I thought that you’d enjoy.” You turned back to your groceries and began to un-bag them, hoping that Credence couldn’t see the blush that had begun to envelope your face.

A small, huffy laugh emitted from your boyfriend. You heard the chair beneath him screech as he pushed it out, followed by his footsteps nearing you.

“I mean why did you do them? You’ve never done anything like this before …” He took a stop by your side, bashfully looking at the counter as his fingers fidgeted with the papers they held. “What’s going on?”

You sighed through your nose, trying (and failing) to keep a timid smile off your face. It sounded so goofy now, as you thought about what words to say.

“Well …” you bit your lip. “I guess …  I guess that’s exactly why I did this: because I never have before.” In that moment, you plucked up the courage to face the dark-haired man. Your smile became less shy and more confident the more you considered the truth. “I meant every word I said, Credence. But I don’t think I ever really expressed them. And if I had, I probably didn’t express them enough. And some of those things are really hard to say …” You began to fidget with your own fingers, with one hand gently squeezing the tips of the others.

“You’re brilliant, Credence” – a comment which prompted Credence to look up at you, smile gone, but instead replaced with a slightly startled look – “You make me happy – so, so happy! And you’re brave and you’re kind and you’re one of the strongest people I know.” You could see him about to open his mouth to release denial, that dreaded beast that tended to keep the nourishment of praise at bay. Throwing your hands to your side in a determined stance, you quickly intervened before he could slip even the first letter of the first words out. “And strength means the courage and ability to persist even after enduring so much that others in the same situation would have given up; it doesn’t mean you can’t be scared or hesitant. It just means that you were nervous, but eventually chose to move on anyway. Credence …”

You found one of your hands cupping his cheek and the other gently placing itself over his own.

“I just wanted you to know how absolutely, positively amazing I think you really are,” you murmured. If you said it any louder, your voice would threaten to crack and then you’d start crying. And if you cried, then Credence would freak out and cry and then you two would go nowhere. It was therefore a bit startling to see his eyes well up anyway. You tried to keep your smile intact, however, using the thumb that was against his cheek to wipe away an escaping tear.

Credence leaned into your touch, something that he had once done to just about anyone in the past. But now, he only ever reserved such an action for you. It symbolized trust, comfort, and so much love, all in one seemingly simple nuzzle.

You wanted to stay quiet. Enjoy the moment and let that simple gesture speak for itself. And, for a moment that seemed to go on, it had. It was unexpectedly Credence who broke it however.

“(Y/N)?” he said. You made no verbal reply, instead nodding slightly. You watched with the smallest bit of curiosity as Credence removed his cheek from your hand and placed the letters on the counter. What followed was him gingerly encircling your shorter form with his arms, gently pushing you towards him into an embrace that only got tighter and warmer with each passing second. It was quiet like this, in this moment where you melted into the hug. It was as though every droplet of love Credence had ever had was being passed on to you, blanketing you with a sense of absolute desire and dedication.

It was in this warmth, this overwhelming experience where you forgot what loneliness ever felt like, that you pressed your had to Credence’s chest and that Credence buried his face into your hair. What followed was quiet. And yet, it was the most blissful thing you had heard in a very long time:

“You’re pretty amazing, too.”