#watch Jesse pulling out the rug and having him ask her out on a date

[wonderpommey]

So here are my predictions that no one asked for about the end for Roman! Locked up in a cage, forever unable to confront anyone, let alone himself? Symbolic death in a murder suicide of doom or standing up for someone he loves?

Every season so far has pitted Logan v. Gerri/Sibs for dominance over his heart, it was crazy to imagine that this season, despite Logan’s death, would be any different, it just magnified both sides.

Roman’s arc this season is his desire, born out of misplaced guilt, to be everything he thought Logan wanted him to be in 4x02, but arguably since forever (See my S3 posts); a ruthless alpha toxic fuck who ‘kills’ women, starting with the one he loves.

But that’s just Roman’s paranoid interpretation of Logan’s wishes. It’s what you do when you can only project what you think dad wants and you think it’s most certainly the worst-case scenario, the one that hurts you the most. Logan as God directing Abraham to kill his beloved son Isaac. But preventing it at the last moment, because if God lets you kill that which you love, he’s just another monster. In lieu of an angel, Logan sends Tom (How many times has Roman asked if they should kill Tom this season btw), asking if it’s done already.

Is that what Logan truly wanted? Logan is disgusted by the idea that his son wants an older woman, respecting her competence above his nepo birth right, but he doesn’t really want Roman to fire Gerri to prove something to him. What he wants is for Roman to be able to turn away from ‘love’ and loyalty, if the business requires it. In fact, the pure distraught manic emotion Roman is unleashing, trying to be something he’s not, is the opposite of what Logan wanted.

What I hadn’t necassarily anticipated was that in doing so, Roman doesn’t just deny his true longings, he creates actual hurt and pain for the people he loves and the wider world. As Gerri turns away (and puts her shoes back on, covering the Achilles heel he was for her) as his sibs strike out on their own, his hurt - which he can’t acknowledge as his needs and wants are what he’s always been punished for, they can’t be expressed - grow and create anger. Which he misdirects at everyone but the one person who deserves it, Logan. Roman has only allowed himself one outburst of anger at Logan and has lived to regret it ever since.

The show has always been a blistering indictment of patriarchy and capitalism as it pertains to the essential human need for love (RIP reddit bros who thought this was fictional apprentice). The poison drips through… Repressed longing for love, connection, affection, trust & loyalty creates hurt, which creates anger, which creates evil. And men become so hurt by women’s rejection of them (which they do for their own survival!), that they start hating them.

And symbolically, we’ve had Roman as this murderous messenger to Gerri, but he actually ended up killing his dad, then murdering Gerri again only to pull out the blade because he’s him and he couldn’t actually do that. Then she grabbed his bloody hand and sank the knife back into her heart and brought her red painted nails to his throat (see this is how it’s done Roman, that’s how you kill. Here’s your last chance to learn and survive). As he loses what he intrinsically wants, he discovers that nothing matters and he sets the actual world on fire. If he wants to die now because the cognitive dissonance is too great, there’s no way he won’t want to die by Gerri’s hand, no way he won’t want her eyes on him as his humanity, his last hope for love, leaves his body…

Can Roman break the cycle of anger, serve Gerri’s (or even another woman’s) interest, identify and say something he feels, leave Waystar? I doubt the show will want to say anything so hopeful and will instead focus on Shiv’s pregnancy; minuscule hope, and very likely doomed repetition of the cycle.

And just your friendly reminder that Kieran and Jesse and Mark walked away for 20mn as Kieran had totally misread the meaning behind Roman’s last scene and that Kieran spins his own fanfic about how Roman ends up… so good luck!

[waywardaardvark79]

Come Hell or High Water Part 5: Only When You’re Ready

Summary: Blackwick, Montana was going to be a fresh start for you and your five year old daughter. You moved in across the street from Officer Dean Winchester, and quickly found that you were able to help him. Will Dean be able to help you when your past comes back to haunt you?

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: non graphic talk of past abuse, hurt Dean, 

                  A week and a half later

           "You're gonna do great. Everyone is gonna love you, trust me." Dean said to Aj. Her first day of kindergarten was in two days, and you didn't know who was more nervous, you or her. Dean had found himself giving you both pep talks as the day approached.

 "Will you go with me?" she asked. 

Dean smiled softly at her, "I'll take you inside." he said.

 "But you won't stay?" she asked tears welling up in her eyes. 

Dean's heart broke at the sight. He quickly figured out that he wasn't able to refuse anything she asked. "They won't let me stay, princess." he gently explained. Aj's bottom lip started to quiver, "But I'll be there when you get out, and maybe we can go get ice cream." he said, trying to cheer her up. 

"You promise?" she asked. 

"Promise." he said. 

You walked out of your office and stretched your arms over your head, your shirt riding up with the motion. The opening of your door had pulled Dean's attention in your direction, the faded, jagged scar peeking out from the top of your pants held it there. Aj noticed him staring and whispered , "That's momma's boo boo, but don't worry, it doesn't hurt anymore. It just looks funny." she said. 

Dean looked down at her with a sad smile, "Does she have any other ones?" he asked. 

Aj nodded, "One time she had a whole bunch, but they went away. Her belly ones look funny like that one though." she said.

 Dean quickly put the pieces together, "But don't say anything, it makes her sad." she whispered.

 "You don't have any do you?" he asked with bated breath, praying that she said no.

 "No, just this one." she said pointing to her knee where she had slipped outside earlier in the week.

 Dean slowly exhaled the breath he was holding, "You know that if anyone ever tried to hurt you or your mom you could tell me, or Sam." he said.

 She nodded her head, "Cause your cops, and you would take them to jail." she said. 

Before Dean could say anything else you walked over, "What are you two whispering about?" you asked.

 "Ah, nothing, just club business." Dean lied. 

"I'm still not allowed into this elusive club?" you asked, perching yourself on the arm of the couch.

 Aj had invented a club a few days earlier, her, Dean, and Rocky the only members. "I mean, Sam even has a pending membership." you argued.

 "Sam bought me this." Aj said as she held up the little, stuffed German Shepherd.

 "Maybe we should think about letting her in. Your mom is pretty cool." said Dean. 

Aj looked up at him, and then quickly jumped off the couch and headed up stairs. "What was that about?" you asked. 

Dean held out his wrist and you noticed the purple beaded bracelet, "Only official club members get em'. We made them this morning.  Think you may be on your way in." he said. 

You smiled brightly at the rugged man sitting before you, proudly showing off his purple bracelet, "One can only hope." you said.

Aj returned a few moments later, and slipped a purple bracelet on your wrist. "Now everybody will know we're all together." she said. 

"What about Rocky?" you asked. The dog raised his head at the mention of his name, and you noticed the bracelet hanging from the loop of his collar, and you laughed.

 "Rocky got his before me." said Dean.

 The phone you used for work started ringing, and you pulled it from your pocket, quickly slipping into your customer service voice and answered it, "Hi, this is Y/N with Teladoc. I'll be your nurse today. How may I help you?" you asked. You listened, able to hear someone breathing on the other end of the line, but they didn't say anything. "How may I help you?" you asked again. Suddenly the line went dead, and you pulled the phone from your ear and hung up. "Guess they didn't need help." you shrugged, ignoring the bad feeling that you had. "I better get back to it." you said as you started to head into your office, the pit in your stomach growing with each step.

               The end of the day came, and you didn't have any more hang up calls. You told yourself that you were overreacting. Maybe they didn't have good signal and the call dropped. Someone did call in saying they had trouble getting through not long after. You pushed away your fear, finished up the last bit of your work, and walked out of your office, telling yourself that you weren't going to dwell on it anymore. 

Sam was sitting on your couch, telling Aj how much he loved his bracelet when you walked in. "Hey Y/N." he greeted.

 "You're here early." you said as you sat next to Dean on the couch.

 "I was just filling in for somebody today. They ended up coming in after all." he said. 

"Give me just a minute, and I'll get his meds together." you said, starting to stand up. 

"Well, I was wondering, if it wouldn't be too much trouble if Dean could hang out a little longer?" he asked. 

"Sammy, got himself a date." Dean said.

 You raised one eyebrow at him, "A date, huh?" you asked.

 "It's not a date, per say. I'm just going to dinner with a friend." Sam said

"Would this friend happen to be Eileen?" you asked, trying to keep your smile at bay. 

Sam quickly turned to Dean, "Seriously?" he asked. 

"Oh come on, Sammy. We all know you like her. Y/N doesn't even know who she is and she knows." Dean said. 

"Because someone has a big mouth." Sam said as he glared at Dean. 

"You talk about her ALOT." said Aj, stressing the word a lot. 

You and Dean broke out into a fit of laughter, "She ain't wrong." you said.

 "Guys, Eileen said the funniest thing today. Guys, Eileen told me this really interesting story today." mocked Dean. 

You gently smacked his shoulder. "You go have fun Sam. She sounds like a lovely person. We will be fine here. Don't worry." you said.

 "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked. 

You nodded , and walked into the kitchen with him. "Everything ok?" you asked.

 Sam looked down at his feet, "Could you maybe, help me pick out something to wear? I'm a little nervous. This is kinda my first date since Jess." Sam quietly said. 

You knew that Jess was Sam's girlfriend that had died in a tragic accident a few years ago. You patted him on the shoulder, "Sure thing, Sam. Just bring a few choices over and I'll help you get ready." you said.

 Sam thanked you, and told you he would be back over after his shower. You escorted him to the front door and told him you would see him soon. "What was that?" Dean asked when Sam left.

 "He's nervous, and wanted me to help him decide what to wear." you said as you crossed the room and sat next to him. "Give him a break. No teasing." you said. 

"Yes, ma'am." said Dean.

             Sam came back over just as the three of you were finishing dinner. You pointed him to the downstairs bathroom, and told him to try on what he brought so you could see it on. "You look like a seventh grader at his first dance." said Dean as Sam came out of the bathroom. 

 "Hush." you scolded as you swatted his shoulder. 

"Easy Nurse Ratched, I'm beat up enough." he said. 

"Sam, you look great." you said. You watched as he nervously fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt.

 "Yeah, you look real pretty, Sam." Aj said. 

"He does, doesn't he." teased Dean.

 Sam ignored him and turned to you, "I shouldn't be too late." he said. 

"You know I got that appointment in the morning. It would probably just be easier if I stayed here." said Dean.

 "Oh, a sleepover!" Aj shrieked. "Can he stay, momma?" Aj pleaded. 

Dean stuck out his bottom lip, "I'll be good." he said. 

You rolled your eyes, "Fine." you said. You turned to Sam, "Get out of here. Have a good time." you said as you started to pull him towards the door.

 "Are you sure it's ok?" he asked. You opened the front door and ushered him out, "It's fine." you said, again. 

"Just try not to kill him." Sam joked.

 "No promises." you said, as you closed and locked the door. 

         "Alright ladies, let's get this party started." said Dean.

 "Oh no, no party. We have an early appointment tomorrow, and someone is sticking to their school bedtime." you said.

 "But moooom, school hasn't started." Aj whined. 

"You need to get used to going to sleep earlier." you said, before turning to Dean, "And you got a big day tomorrow too, so early bedtime for you too." you finished. You argued with the two of them for a few minutes, before finally agreeing that they could watch one movie and then it was off to bed.

           The credits to the movie started to roll, and you looked over at Aj, who was fast asleep, tucked into Dean's side. "Let me get her in bed, and I'll bring you some more pillows and a blanket." you said as you eased her into your arms, Rocky trailing behind you. 

You got her tucked into bed, Rocky taking his place at her feet, and you walked into your bedroom to grab some pillows and a blanket for Dean. You walked into the living room to see him trying to get comfortable on the couch. You dropped the pillows and blanket on the coffee table, "Come on, you can't sleep here." you said.

 "Sick of me already?" he asked.

 "A little." you deadpanned. 

Dean clutched his hand to his chest in mock hurt. "I'm taking you upstairs." you said.

 Dean wiggled his eyebrows at you, "Oh, really?" he asked.

 You shook your head at him and held out your hand to help pull him into a seated position. "You wanna try the crutches?" you asked. Dean nodded, and you ran to grab them from your office. 

The two of you went at a slow and steady pace, both of you breathing heavy when you finally reached the second floor. You pushed open your bedroom door and quickly turned down the covers before Dean plopped down on the side of the bed. He collapsed backward, drawing in a deep breath, "I'm gonna need a minute." he said.

 "I'll go get your meds." you said. 

When you came back Dean was in the same spot. "Here, sit up." you said as you placed his meds on the nightstand, and held your hand out to help him. Once he was upright  you handed him his meds, and water to wash them down with. "You wanna sleep in your shirt?" you asked.

 "If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask." he teased.

 "I've gotten you naked plenty of times." you retorted. 

"Wanna join me this time?" Dean asked with a wink, still breathing a little heavy.

 "I think the stairs was a good enough work out for you tonight. I wouldn't want to break you." you said.

 "Oh sweetheart, I don't break that easy." he said. 

You eyed him up and down, "Well sweetheart, I beg to differ." you said, as you sat his bottle of water next to the bed. "Shirt on or off?" you asked again. 

"Off." he said. 

You grabbed the bottom of his shirt and carefully worked it over his head. "Scoot back a little." you said. Dean eased himself back a little more, and you grabbed his legs and lifted them in bed while he turned. You fluffed the pillow behind his head, and pulled the covers up over him. "There ya go. Night Dean." you said as you started to turn to go backstairs, but Dean grabbed your hand.

 "Hey, Y/N, I just....thank you." he genuinely said.

 You gave his hand a little squeeze, "You're welcome." you said, and he released your hand. 

You made it to the door of your bedroom when he called out for you, "Hey, Y/N. I think I might have a fever." he said.

 You rushed back to his side, and placed your palm on his forehead. "No fever. Is something hurting. The wound on your thigh is almost healed. It can't be that." you rambled out as you looked him over.

 "You sure you checked right? I really feel like I have a fever." he said. 

You put your hands on your hips, "Of course I checked right. Unless you want me to go grab a thermometer? You don't have a fever." you argued. 

"See, cause I could swear you were supposed to check with your lips. I mean, I'm not medically trained, but I'm pretty sure." he said. 

The realization of what he was doing hit you, and you narrowed your eyes at him before slowly bending down and gently pressing your lips to his forehead. "No, fever." you whispered.

 "My cheek feels kinda warm. Maybe you should check there." he said. 

You pressed your lips to his cheek, lingering a little longer this time, "Cool as a cucumber." you said, pulling back a little, your faces now only inches apart.

 "Hmm....well, I know one more place you could check." he said, running his tongue over his full bottom lip afterward.

 "Is that so?" you asked, moving close enough to feel his breath. 

"Mmhmm." he hummed, you felt his hand slide up your back, and come to a rest on the back of your neck. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, Dean offering you an out that you didn't take, before he gently pulled you forward and your lips met his. 

The kiss started soft and sweet, the two of you really taking your time with each other, not wanting to move too fast. Before too long you felt his tongue run across your bottom lip, and you parted your mouth for him to deepen the kiss. You felt his fingers twist in your hair, and you moaned into his mouth. He tightened his grip on you, pulling you against his chest, and you threw one leg over his body to straddle him. 

You automatically rolled your hips a little, and felt him groan low in his chest, his hold on you tightening. You slowly started to pepper kisses along the side of his face and down his neck, before working your way back up, pulling his earlobe into your mouth and giving it a teasing bite. You felt him exhale a long, shaky breath, and pressed your lips to his once more. Just as things were staring to get heated, you felt his hand slide under your shirt, his thumb running along the edge of the jagged scar that peaked out of your jeans, and you froze.

 Dean felt your whole body tense, and he wanted to kick himself. You quickly pulled back, "Dean....I, uh...I." you rambled out.

 "Too fast. I'm sorry." he said.

 You squeezed your eyes shut, and shook your head, still sitting on top of him. You willed your tears not to come, squeezing your eyes shut even harder. "We don't have to." Dean quietly said. Your breath hitched in your throat. You wanted to, God, did you want to, but you didn't want him to see you, not after everything HE did. If Dean saw you would have to explain everything, and what if he thought less of you. Dean didn't say anything as he watched you have an internal battle with yourself. "Y/N, would you please look at me?" he gently asked. You shook your head no. "We don't have to. It's fine." he said, his voice full of sincerity. 

You cracked open your eyes to see Dean staring at you with such concern. Your mind kicked into overdrive, a millions thoughts racing around at once. He probably thought something was wrong with you, thought you were damaged, felt pity for you. You pushed the thoughts away, determined to show him that he was wrong.

 You quickly worked your way down his body until you were settled between his legs. You hooked your fingers into the top of his sweats and started to work them down when his hand on your wrist stopped you. You couldn't place the look on his face, and your mind immediately started screaming that he didn't want you. Who could want you? "No, sweetheart." he softly said. 

You felt the tears burning your eyes as you gave everything you had to keep them from falling. He didn't want you. You tried to blink them away, and started to try to get up to get away from him, but he still had ahold of your wrist. "C'mere." he said. You quickly averted your eyes and hung your head, completely embarrassed of your behavior. You felt his finger underneath your chin, and he slowly lifted it until you were looking at him. "Get up here." he said. 

You slowly eased your way up, and he pulled you down to him, your head laying on his chest. You felt his arm wrap around you and squeeze you to him. "Not until you're ready. I want to wait until you're completely ready." he whispered. 

You wrapped your arm around his waist and managed to choke out, "I'm sorry." 

"You have nothing to be sorry for." he said, but you didn't reply. "You know I would never hurt you, right?" he asked. 

You simply nodded your head, the conversation starting to get too close to a subject you didn't want to talk about. "I know." you finally whispered.

 You felt Dean kiss the top of your head, "Get some sleep, sweetheart. I'm here. Everything is going to be ok." he said. You felt yourself start to drift off to sleep in his arms and you prayed that he was right.

              The next morning you were awakened by Aj standing at the side of your bed softly calling out for you. You opened your eyes and sleepily asked, "What's wrong, honey? Are you ok?"

“Dean opened his eyes and stretched his arms over his head, "Mornin', Princess." he said to Aj.

  She looked back and forth between the two of you. "Why did Dean sleep in your bed?" she asked.

 You squeezed your eyes shut for a minute, "Because it was more comfortable for him. He can't really fit on the couch." you explained, hoping that would end the conversation.

 "Why isn't he wearing a shirt?" she asked. 

You felt Dean tense next to you, "I, uh, I got hot." he said. 

She looked at the two of you suspiciously, "Momma, is Dean your boyfriend?" she asked.

 Dean turned to you, and watched you panic, "H...How do you know what a boyfriend is?" you asked, avoiding answering the question.

 Aj sighed dramatically, "I'm not a baby. I know what a boyfriend is." she said.

 You sat up, and she started to head for your door, "Cause it'd be ok with me, if he was." she said as she walked out. 

"No more tv for you." you said under your breath as you got up. 

You looked over to Dean who was trying his best not to smile. "What?" you asked. 

He pointed towards the door, "I got the kid's approval." he said with a smirk

. "One step at a time." you said to him. 

"One step at a time." he said with a soft smile.

 You went to your closet to grab your clothes for the day, "One step at a time." repeating over and over in your head.

[rebellect-writes]

[b]Your Name:[/b] Jess [b]Your Age:[/b] 20 [b]How'd You Find Us?:[/b] Don’t ask.

[b]Full Name:[/b] Jackson Rhodes [b]Nicknames:[/b] - Jax. - Jackie. - Roadie. [b]Date of Birth:[/b] 12th of August 1984. [b]Age:[/b] 26 [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Occupation:[/b] street magician. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Straight switch.

[b]Animal:[/b] Cougar. [b]Power Level:[/b] "Beta" Alpha. [b]Mindset:[/b] Domissive. [b]Rank:[/b] Manabozho.

[b]Animal Appearance:[/b] [IMG]http://cache2.allpostersimages.com/LRG/26/2675/C6EUD00Z.jpg[/IMG][LIST]Jackson’s big for a cougar, just a little over “average” size. Weighing in at 210lbs in cougar form, he’s almost as big as a jaguar, only a lot less muscled, and almost 6’ in length. He’s covered from head to tail tip in dark and thick honey colored fur that keeps him insulated from the cold. [/LIST][URL=http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/Cowboy_Cougar_by_Skitzobits.jpg]Hybrid form[/URL][LIST]Jackson knows about his hybrid form, and even though he rarely uses it, it’s still something in his arsenal should he ever get into a fight and he needs a little more juice. Standing roughly at 6’8 tall and weighing in at 240lbs, the furred cougar-man form is build for speed and combat. He’s got retractable claws that can cut through skin like a knife like butter, and paw like hands and feet, replace human hands and opposable thumbs leaving him in a mess if he needs to open anything fiddly. When he’s in this form, he’s covered from head to toe in dusty gold fur that darkens in patches and things out across his abdomen. [/LIST][b]Human Appearance:[/b] [IMG]http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/taylorkitsch.png[/IMG][LIST]Standing at an even 6 foot tall, Jackson is your average looking bloke. With shoulder length brown hair – that he hasn’t cut since he was twelve! – Which he keeps away from his face by just raking his fingers through it and an almost continuous five o’clock shadow that sometimes, Jackson forgets about and lets it get a little thicker, can almost be described as rugged, and that doesn’t take your fancy, grungy at the very least. The pale tawny skin, stunning hazel eyes, full lips, yep, Jackson knows how to use it all to his advantage and yet he doesn’t. As for his clothing style, Jackson is very laid back into what he wears, though there is a vane streak in him that he always tries to hide behind his temper. He likes to wear suits and won’t admit it, so more often or not, he will settle for clingy dark jeans, dark coloured shirts or t-shirts, often accompanied by a leather jacket for just an open shirt over a t-shirt. With a little bit of practice, he can pull off different styles though. As for jewellery and accessories? He’s not really the type to wear them all the time, but if you count a platinum thumb ring, a wallet chain, and a gold crucifix as fashion accessories, by all means count that as something Maddox will always wear.

He’s got into his fair share of scrapes over the years and that’s given him a nice but small collection of war wounds. The biggest scar that he has is a three inch scar on the inside of his thigh from a bar fight that got out of control when he was human. A couple of inches higher and the broken bottle could have nicked something important. He has a self done tattoo from when he was younger, it’s on the inside of his wrist and all it says is ‘carpe diem’ in small black letters. [/LIST][b]Face Claim:[/b] Taylor Kitsch.

[b]Strengths:[/b] [LIST]• Get's the "job" done at the end of the day. Whatever the task may be. • Listens to people, despite what people say. • Knows when to keep his mouth shut around alphas. Barely. • Fast on his feet in both forms. • Some street smarts. • Working on the fly. • He likes pain, uses it as a focus at times. • He doesn't give into his violent nature easy. • His animal instincts. • He doesn't care if he lives or dies much. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b] [LIST]• Always needs to feed after a shift. • His half and half form takes too much energy and can knock him on his butt for hours after. • He's got a bit of an issue with authority figures. He's working on it! • Silver…it hurts like a…well, you get the picture. • Pain, after all there is a fine line between pain and pleasure. • Attractive females. Point in case with Isabella.   • Children. If one's hurt because of him, he'll kick himself. • Magic tricks. Curiousity and cats...Ya know how that goes. • He has too kind a heart at times and it's gotton him hurt. • His flair for drama at times. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b] [LIST]• Practising lock picking. He’s yet to find one he can’t unlock. • Gambling for something better to do. • Drinking instead of talking. • Smoking. He smokes more when he's nervous. • Sex. Oh hush your face.   • Tinkering with his truck. • Keeping in contact with the Catamount. • Swimming. • Climbing trees and the like as a cat. • Fish and chips. It beats cooking. • Music over silence. • Magic tricks. • Pissing off idiots to see when they'll snap. • Sleeping the day away when he can. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b] [LIST]• Having nothing to do. • Crowds. He panics a little and stays to the edges. • Having to keep Izzy out of cougar business. • Getting dragged into things that don't concern him. • Football. He's never been a fan of sports really. • Things over his nose and mouth. • RPIT cops! Or any kind of law really. • Uncalled for clan challenges. • Idiots that think they know it all. • Bad sex. Eh...Yeah. • Having no cash. • Morning TV. • Tea. There's just something wrong with it. • People that hurt others for the hell of it. • Sleep! Yeah, he's just a bit odd. [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b][LIST]Jackson isn’t the most trusting of people, preferring to keep his mouth shut at times and eyes open. It isn’t that he’s got nothing to say, he’s got plenty to say, he just doesn’t know how to communicate what he wants to say half the time and it annoys him. It’s a problem, but he’s slowly working through his communication issues. A little jaded and used to getting the short end of the stick, he’s become a good people watcher and likes to take a guess on what people are thinking by simply watching their body language. It doesn’t mean that he’s always right, just a little paranoid. And besides! An attractive face can be his downfall too you know...

I suppose you could say that he’s very loud in his own way. He has a bit of an anger issue sure, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be fun. Jax has a habit of putting himself in tricky situations and mouthing off at the wrong people, and more times than enough, getting his ass kicked. He’s been told that he’s anti social, ok he can roll with that. Still, most of the time Jax uses actions instead of words to get his meaning across and that suits him quite well.

He can be sarcastic, and charming and even violent at times, Rhodes has been known to lash out and think about his actions later. People have questioned his decision making skills before, and he’ll always tell people the same thing, he works on the fly. Jax would rather someone say a silent thank you to him, instead of drawing it out as displaying emotions isn’t one of his strong points and expressing what he wants to say is hard for him. He can do touchy feely well enough but that doesn’t mean anything if there is no feeling in it. To give the sarcastic, slightly flirty male his due, he does have a nasty streak running through him that demands he causes drama some times.

Some things just really annoy him, while he keeps away from people normally; he won’t stand for someone abusing those weaker then themselves, or power. That’s when his protective streak will kick in and he’ll lash out in anger against those that cause the pain and misery. When he lashes out and loses his cool, Jax won’t regret that he did anything, even if he’s punished and humiliated, he’ll take it all with a smirk. Earning his trust and respect is a hard thing to do, but once someone does earn that, there is no way in hell Jax would willingly walk away from them. He’s a survivor and does what he needs to do, he doesn't care what people think of him. There is no better way to describe him. [/LIST][b]History:[/b] [LIST]Jackson Rhodes was born to Linda and Clayton Rhodes, in the city of London, mid April in the year 1984. He was a surprise birth, as the doctors had told his parents from the start of their marriage that Linda could not bear any child in her womb, and being an old money family, they saw every doctor that specialized in that area, no matter the cost. As it was, Jackson came into the world kicking and screaming like any other normal healthy baby.

Growing up the spoilt child, he stoically bared the love of his smothering mother even though she made him want to hurt things. A desperate housewife to the extreme, that’s the easiest way to describe his mother. As for his father, well a workaholic that liked to stay late and make sure everything in the import and export company was running smoothly before coming home and smothering his son almost as much as his mother, well it was an odd childhood. Though from the age of three, Jackson had picked up a liking for magic, and as he grew from a little boy that would hide behind his father’s legs when extended family came to their small estate just outside of London, well into the country that they could have peace, but close enough to the city that they had everything they needed and would be close to work if there was an emergency.

Now many people would have gotten him out there, meeting children his own age, his parents treated him like the boy in the plastic bubble in that respect. Now that was what caused him to rebel against what he knew, he put himself out there, flatly refused to go to any posh school that only taught things that would get people nowhere in real life, instead he opted to go to a normal secondary school with normal children. Rhodes never lost his flair for magic tricks, and would practice them anytime, anywhere, whenever he could. For that alone, people thought he was an oddball (and he is, but we won't go into that here). That simply washed over the young Rhodes, his teachers encouraged him to keep up with something he obviously liked doing, and they had no reason to complain as he was a level student in class. As smart and as clever as young Rhodes was, he didn’t see the day when his father messed up royally loosing the family business to a rival company.

Well it wasn’t the end of the world so to speak, he his friends, his talents, everything would be ok. Yeah, ok Jackson looked at this like any young adult would like their parents were going to split up. He saw it as his fault. His bright innocence turned into something colder, and he accepted it as his grades plummeted and he began to drift away from his friends. For a year, as his antics became erratic, he stopped acting the fool and dropped the magic show that he’d lived in most of his life. Around year ten of secondary school Jackson began to drift around life with a new group of friends. These truant friends taught him new magic tricks, somewhere in him he knew that it was wrong to boost cars and steal from the back of open vans, but he did it anywhere, determined to help his family out of the ever expanding abyss. When he turned up at his father’s study one day with seven grand in cash from his new extracurricular activities that he’d hidden from his parents for nearly three years, his pop hit the roof demanding where Jackson had gotten the cash from.

The little boy in him cringed at the sight of his father so angry, but he didn’t back down from offering the cash even when his mother came in and decided she’d bite his head off too. After a long and boring screaming match, he walked away from them both having tossed the money up in the air and headed to his room. Within fifty minuets, he was walking away from his parents for good with a duffle bag over his shoulder holding things he’d need. The heir to the broken family fortune no longer.

He flat to rent in lower east London, and any idea that walking away from his family had been a rash decision flew the coop as he embraced a seedier nature that his high school friends had began to cultivate, though surprisingly he began to take up magic tricks again, unknowingly needing it as a safety blanket. By the age of twenty one, he was stealing, drinking, smoking, whoring, and oddly enough performing children’s parties, saving what cash he could in various accounts and selling on anything he stole before the cops could poke their noses into any “business” dealings.

That was when he met her, she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or rather a cougar in a black velvet mini dress on the hunt for dinner. A sucker for a pretty face, and long legs, the cold Rhodes flirted ignoring his friends as they heckled from somewhere behind the two. Chemistry between them was as clear as day, and both took off back for Jax’ place. The sex was great! He did have doubts when she said she was allergic to latex, but one thing led to another and safe sex was drop kicked out of the window. He didn’t even mind the fact she clawed his back up when he found her and the loose change in his wallet gone the next morning.

His fate was sealed and though he didn’t know it at the time, so life went on. When the next month rolled around sluggishly, he began to feel odd, like something inside him wanted to get out. Putting it down to a bug he’d caught, Rhodes cancelled the three shows he had the following week and locked himself away in his flat, even calling his friends and telling them not to show up unless he called. The night of the full moon rolled around, Jackson went to never, never dream again land, as his body changed into that of a cougar. It’s safe to say he put it down to his body needing to heal and kick out whatever was invading his system, which he had simply slept the time away.

When it happened again, and again, he began, he ignored it, until one day, he passed out in front of a camcorder. He’d been practising a new trick, and had always used some kind of recorder so he could watch himself over again. When he saw a cougar in his place the morning after, he hit the bottle and shrugged it off figuring it was a bad dream…

A bad dream that he’s lived through for just over four years, it forced him to move out of London, and being no good with choosing things, he put a pin in a map, and Bobs your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt, that pin landed on Jackford. He has a few secrets of his own, and he can tell the residents have their own troubles. Though one little leopard has won his attention and he can count on her. [/LIST]

[triforceangel13]

Just a Phone Call Away Ch. 10 (A McHanzo Au)

Chapter 10: Losing Everything

“I can't believe they would all do something like this to me,” Hanzo said as he sat down by a tree a bit away from the house. “Not only was my brother sneaking Ashe away from me, but everyone had known about it and kept it a secret for years from me! Did they even tell Angela what her fiance was up to?”

There was no way that she knew what was going on. This wedding wouldn't be happening right now, or at least she would not be any part of this if Angela knew that her fiance had slept with her maid of honor. Angela wouldn't have left Hanzo in the dark either, she wasn't that type of person, unlike everyone else.

She had a right to know just as much as Hanzo did what had happened before it was too late. It was too late on Hanzo' end, his relationship had ended. And here he thought that Ashe still had some feelings for him.

But for Angela it wasn't too late. If she was told about this it could save her from making this sort of mistake.

But he didn't want to hurt her, especially when he was feeling this upset. Perhaps when he calmed down he would tell her unless, by some miracle, his brother would grow a set and tell the woman he was about to marry what had happened.

“Hanzo, talk to me,” Jesse said to him. “It's not good for you to bottle things up like this. You need to let out all of your frustrations.”

Hanzo let out a heavy sigh, burying his face in his hands for a brief moment. He was right. He did need to let out some stress.

“He asked you to promise him not to tell me?” Hanzo asked first, looking up to the other man. Jesse settled down on his knee next to him, a concerned look on his face.

“He did, but I never promised him anything after I had...walked on in Ashe begging for him to call off the wedding and he wouldn't”

“Typical,” Hanzo sighed. “But..why hadn't you promised him?”

“I found it wasn't right to keep such things from you and I had wanted to tell you at the best moment, I'm not like the rest of your family who is willing to hide it for years in hopes that it will disappear without a trace. Though today it looks like Ashe had different plans and told you herself before I got the chance to...”

Hanzo rest a hand on Jesse's knee, letting out a sigh. Jesse wiped away a tear from his cheek, feeling his heart aching for the man in front of him as he began to cry.

“I don't know what to do. I can't trust anyone anymore. My whole family has lied to me for years. Not one of them even thought to tell me this, but just wanted to sweep it under the rug,” he said through more tears.

“I know...” Jesse said to him sadly. “Or at least they were waiting till the right moment which happened to be the day before the wedding.”

“Not like I'm much better,” Hanzo continued with mock laughter at himself. “Here I am bringing an escort to a wedding and pretending that we are so in love. I guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.”

Jesse finally frowned at that, slowly pulling his hand away.

“And I'm not going to end up having a good time either. As soon as this is over my life will go back to the way it was and I'll be alone once again but this time with no one. No family, no boyfriend. Absolutely nothing,” Hanzo continued.

“Well if that's what you think then perhaps I should give you one of those things early,” Jesse snapped, shoving himself off of the ground.

Hanzo gazed at him confused but slowly his expression turned to one of remorse. What had he just done?!

“Jesse, wait!” Hanzo called out to him, scrambling to his feet and chasing quickly after him. Jesse whirled around, anger plain on his face.

“Why? I'm nothing but the escort you had hired for this wedding. It seems that you don't need me any longer so I don't see why I need to stick around. I have no need to make more money,” Jesse growled at him.

“No, no!” Hanzo said quickly reaching out for him but Jesse pulled away. He had been hurt way too many times for someone to do it to him again. “That's not what I meant at all. I was letting my emotions run my mouth and-” “And what? I thought we had something going on Hanzo. I opened myself up a bit to you and had even been thinking of quitting the business and asking out out on an actual date after this hellish week. Now...well now that I see I am only what you paid for. I'll be getting my things and I'll be outta here by the morning.”

Hanzo felt his throat start to grow tight, watching the one man that he actually trusted walk away from him.

*

It had been hours since Hanzo had learned and the sun had settled for the day in the sky. Everyone had gone back to the house except Jesse, which was evident as his things were gone and he was nowhere in sight.

He hadn't expected him to be there after what had come out of his mouth. He wish he had a real life filter to be able to keep him from staying stupid things when he was upset. But he didn't and he had probably ruined one of the best things in his life.

“Good job me,” Hanzo groaned, taking a seat on the bed, burying his face in his hands. He was back at square one. Jesse had been able to pull him out of the dark pool that was his heart and he had cut the line he had on him to pull him out.

He had ruined everything. But not as much as his brother had with the news about what he had done with his ex.

A knock on the door caused him to look up quickly, anger filling him when he saw the one of the few people he wished hadn't come near him.

“Hey,” Genji said with a small sigh, shifting uncomfortable in the doorway. “Are you busy? Can we talk a moment?”

“Can we talk...that'll be first,” Hanzo said bitterly, turning from him, not wanting to make eye contact with his brother.

Genji winced but stepped further into the room. “I wanted to thank you really quick for not telling Angela, I know she deserves to know, just I'm not ready to tell her yet. I'll sit her down after the wedding and let it all out.”

Hanzo snorted softly, rising to his feet as he finally faced his brother. “Oh that's just perfect Genji. The right way to do it. You lock her down with the wedding and then you rip her out of her chest when you tell her you slept with her best friend over, and over again.”

“Hanzo, I-”

“No don't worry. I won't ruin your precious wedding,” Hanzo said with a sneer. “I'll show up, I'll give my speech and pledge that you two have a great life together, and then afterwards sit back and watch as you ruin another marriage because you were selfish. But right now I won't act like it's okay. I won't let you get away with it tonight.”

“You have to know that when I fell for Angela I stopped it right away,” Genji tried to protest but he already knew he had lost this fight.

“But you still did it. You still did things with Ashe when I was still with her. It takes to tango brother. I don't know who started it but you could've seen how wrong you were and ended it before anything big had happened. But now it's too late.”

“Hanzo-”

“Get out.”

“But Hanzo!”

“I said get out!”

Genji quickly snapped his mouth shut, deflating with a sigh. He nodded his head a bit, heading to the door and taking the doorknob.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, quietly closing the door behind him.

Once the door clicked shut Hanzo let out a huge sigh and sank back onto the bed. It felt good to get that off of his chest but he knew that it was still wrong. He wouldn't be happy when his brother hurt Angela. She was his friend still, she had done nothing wrong in this whole mess. He wanted her to know what had happened, one of the guilty parties was her husband to be, but it wasn't his place per say. It had to come from Genji before it came from anyone else.

He just hoped his brother would use his brain enough to tell her before the wedding took place and gave Angela that chance, should she want it, to get out of this whole mess.

*

Jesse let out a sigh as he looked up at the house. He had gathered his things but had sat on the back deck. The window to what had been his and Hanzo's room had been open, giving a clear conversation to what was said between the two brothers.

Part of him wanted to run up to his room and comfort him again but those words he had spoken too him earlier kept him rooted to that spot. He wasn't sure if he would even be able to get over it. He seriously felt something for Hanzo but it was clear that the other man didn't feel the same way about him as Jesse had.

“Jesse?” came a soft voice. The brunette lifted his head from his phone, his other hand holding a lit cigarette. Angela's small form stood in the doorway, concern and compassion written all over her face for him.

“What are you doing out here? You should come inside,” she offered. Jesse shook his head, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“No can do, ma'am,” he said with a small smile, crushing the cigarette on his boot. “Things got pretty heated between Hanzo and I before, so it's best that I bow out and go home. I was just looking for a hotel to stay for the night.”

“Now we can't have that,” Angela said, taking a seat next to him on the porch and handed him a pair of keys. “It's really late and most places are booked right now.”

Jesse looked down to the keys in his hand, conflict ion coming to his face. Did he stay there and try to fix it Hanzo or did he go home?

“It's the keys to the house where we had the picnic at. It's got a bed and everything you'd need for the night,” Angela offered.

Jesse smiled a bit, pocketing the keys. “Thanks Angela.”

“I don't know what's been going on, but I'm sure someone will tell me when the time is right,” she mused, looking up at the sky. “I've never seen Hanzo so happy before, even when he had been with Ashe.”

Jesse paused. He had wanted to tell her the whole thing was an act, as Hanzo had bluntly put it before, but something had him holding his tongue.

“You and Hanzo are perfect for one another,” she continued. “I hope that whatever is going on between the two of you will get sorted out soon.”

“I don't know Angela,” Jesse sighed. “It got pretty bad before.”

Angela pat his back lightly. “How about you sleep on it tonight and make your decision when you wake up. We will still welcome you to the wedding with open arms but if you don't come we completely understand.”

Jesse relaxed his shoulders and gave her another small smile. “You know I don't think Genji just knows how lucky he is to have a woman like you.”

Angela smiled warmly. “And I'm lucky to have him.”

Again Jesse's words halted in his throat. It should not come from him when it came to Angela. Ashe or Genji himself had to say something first.

“Thank you again Angela,” Jesse mused as he rose to his feet, pulling the keys out and looking out to where the other house was.

“I hope to see you tomorrow,” she offered sadly as she got up as well, dusting off the back of her sweater.

“We'll see,” Jesse replied sadly, heading out of the backyard and towards the house. He had a lot of thinking to do.

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[momtemplative]

Once Upon a Time.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there lived a Grammy and a Grampy who lived in a wonderful house in Boulder, Colorado. Two young girls, who happen to also be my kids, would come to visit them every Wednesday afternoon. Grammy would meet them at the front door with big hugs and their favorite lemonade in the fridge and their favorite snacks and fruit in bowls on the table. Their mom, who happens to be me, would then go to work massaging old people and then have the rest of the night to herself, time she would fill with heavenly kid-free activities—she would often see a movie in the theater or meet a friend for a drink, or maybe have an acupuncture appointment or hit the library for some writing. Such luxuries! Their dad would bring the girls home and put them to bed, and it would all seem so balanced and beneficial for everyone.

Then, abruptly, most of the parts of that simple paragraph were no more, as are most of the parts of many of the paragraphs for most people. No Grammy and Grampy’s house. No old people to massage. No movie in the theater or friends to chat with in-person or acupuncture or library. Two months later, we ask ourselves, is this the new normal?

Last week, I visited my in-laws for the first time since early March. Opal (she already visited them the previous week with Jesse) and I drove to their house in North Boulder, parked on the street out front, and sat on the sidewalk next to my car, using it for shade. It was toasty in the sun. The maple tree in their front yard still had no leaves to soften the emboldened springtime rays. Grammy brought a chair out into the yard that looked like it belonged in the lobby of a haunted hotel, wooden and upholstered—a benign artifact when out in the light of day. She plopped down. She mentioned the warmth a number of times, while wearing a thick yellow sweater, dark pants and heavy, black shoes.

Opal pulled her booster seat from the car and used it as a pseudo-stool while I sat on the sidewalk with my legs in a V (while Opal concerned herself with the red ants circling my bare knees). We joked that if this went on for much longer, we’d have to equip ourselves with more advanced accouterments for front yard hang-time. I just read about how people are now starting to use masks as a form of boutique expression—sewing sequins and affixing the fabric with dried flowers, like facial art. COVID lawn furniture could be the same: custom-made social distancing party goods—fancy awnings with RV lights, swanky travel chairs and shag-carpet lawn rugs. Kanye could develop his own line. There could be catalogues to order from.

For now, though, the front yard presented more classic, minimalistic furnishings. Grammy brought us a plate of fresh cookies and placed them at the halfway point between us on the lawn. Then she returned to her chair to sit down. I got up and put the goods in my front seat. Then, a moment later, Grammy remembered a few more things. She disappeared into the house, returned, and placed a bag of spicy chips from Trader Joes and a loaf of fresh local sourdough bread at the halfway point, and sat down again.

Nothing like this can happen with Ruth in the equation. She’s four. She would block, slow and question every minuscule action with a sort of stop-motion interrogation. Why are you doing it like that? Why does it look like this? Why is everyone acting so weird?

Ruth hasn’t seen her grandparents since early March. She doesn’t understand social distancing and masks are for Halloween. As for hand washing, well, she still picks her nose constantly. So we’ve kept her visits to video chats only.

While at Grammy and Grampy’s, our time went on like this, with Grammy dropping off merchandise for us in the yard before our very eyes, at least five times, like a part of some wonderful off-tempo choreography. We laughed and chatted as it went. When Grampy came too close with the oranges for Opal, she said— “Freeze! Leave them there on the grass please and my mom will pick them up.”

To that, all the grown-ups shared a sweet, impressed look. My expression said: Wow, the ten-year-old has more confidence and command around protocols then the cotton-picking president.

All the while, bees circled the hundreds of dandelions; they’d land, relocate, land, and relocate. The peony bush just began to launch forth. I know what glamorous blossoms it will grow up to have—soft pink ruffles like a doll dress growing upwards. But for now, it had a dozen stalks with finger leaves reaching, unabashedly, for nourishment.

Tiny purple flowers peppered the lawn, less like the star of the show and more like shading for a backdrop. Opal picked one and handed it to me, and it struck me as a tiny cluster of purple balloons.

I considered for a moment what kind of fairytale world would support a tiny purple balloon cluster. Then, Grammy sat down another pile of goods for us on the lawn. This batch was arts and crafts to take home for the girls to play with, together, and without her.

Everyone is doing the Grandparent Experience differently. It’s a supremely individual thing. Some friends have grandparents living in the same house with them and their children. Some friends continued to visit with grandparents, even as the other compartments of their social lives shut down. Some, like us, agreed with the grandparents on the importance of keeping our distance. (My parents live in Ohio, 2,000 miles down the road, so distance is built in to the equation. Insert sigh here.*)

Our little family-of-four has, for the last eight weeks, spent the lion share of our time in the house. We are (presumably) not little fleshy vectors of contagion. Hell, we are more pristine and untouched by the outside world as we have ever been or likely ever will be. Even if Ruth cannot keep her distance (or her fingers out of her nose), now seems to be a pocket of time when the stars are aligned for us to be the safest to come in contact with.

Add on the fact that Trump is determined to ‘liberate’ the world—May 1 was his target date—and that many local businesses are lighting their OPEN signs (though I don’t plan to get a haircut anytime soon), it does seems like the next conversation to be had is, when’s the grandparent party and who’s bringing the sangria?

I checked in with the oracle of the internet to see if I was on the same page as the rest of the country. But, as per usual for the duration of this craziness, I found myself searching for answers from a vacuum of uninformative noise. I keep hearing, “Let the states decide,” but there is nothing from Polis except that he is joining the republican governors to reopen many non-essential businesses, and that he has a plan. There was much written about taking precautions with grandparents at the beginning of the story, back in March. Lifetimes ago. 

The only thing I could find that has been posted since March (and it’s May!) was an excerpt from a larger article from April 21, from a website called CNET. (—?) Two small paragraphs about visiting the elderly—“While the decision to hang out with your grandparents is a personal one to be made by your family, just remember that these are the people who are most at risk at developing a serious and potentially fatal illness if infected with the novel coronavirus.” Buzzkill.

A few things to consider:

1.  We could all be silent carriers. From the Associated Press: “A flood of new research suggests that far more people have had the coronavirus without any symptoms, which means it’s impossible to know who around you may be contagious. That complicates decisions about returning to work, school and normal life.”

2. With the impending re-opening of businesses and retailers, comes more exposure for all of us. Flash forward to fall, when schools start again and the kids are on top of one another, we’ll be much more likely to be silent (or loud) carriers than we are now. What this all says to me is, we better get on with it! Knowing full well that we will likely need to dial back the interactions and reinforce more social distancing come fall and the presumed second wave.

3.  It’s been proven that the virus is much more likely to be contracted while inside, and that outside is a much safer option for (socially distant) meeting. Seems obvious but good to consider. And thank god it’s spring.

The conversation across my in-laws’ lawn veered in numerous directions. It was the most satisfying of small-talk bits, precious little morsels that, during a typical era, would have likely gone overlooked. We were catching up, which is something you don’t typically have a chance to do with local family. (Also to be noted, we were without the fantastic but impressively distracting Ruth.)

Grammy asked if she could come and park on our street and watch the girls play in the front yard from her car. 

Grampy said, “Yea, I wonder when we can start doing Wednesdays again. I miss Wednesdays.” Then, he rolled down the driveway on his bike, a white scarf around his face that, with the shades, made him look like an outlaw.

“Soon,” I said. “Hopefully, soon.”

[kazosa]

A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement - Part 4

Summary: All you wanted was to use your skills in automotive engineering and design to open your own custom car shop. When the rug gets yanked out from under you, one of your regular customers offers you a job that you just can’t resist. Will it stay a mutually beneficial arrangement, or will something unexpected bloom?

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Appearances by: John Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen (Harvelle) Singer, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, Adam Mulligan, Missouri Mosley, Benny Lafitte

Chapter Synopsis: First full day with the Winchesters. John gets the reader one on one and has a few questions to ask her. The reader meets Sam and Jess. Benny shows up to say hi, too. Dean and Benny have a few things they need to hash out and end up doing it during the annual hockey game.

Word count: 9350 (this is why it takes me so long to update a new part)

Warnings: inappropriate behavior, arguments, language, fluff, kissy-face, implied actions (um, not sure if anything else)

Tagging: @coffee-obsessed-writer   @closetspngirl   @sorenmarie87   @adoptdontshoppets   @parinarain   @his-paradox   @babykalika2001   @docharleythegeekqueen   @22sarah08   @flamencodiva   @mirandaaustin93  @collette04   @maralisa124   @mml232   @sympathyforluci   @superthingsilike  @cartoonki113r   @lookwhatyoumademequeue   @jxnnxbrxwn   @winchest09  (if you want to be added to the tags, holla)

A/N: the secondary banner was made by my bestie @coffee-obsessed-writer and it’s amazing, so I had to include it!

    It was hard for you to sleep. The bed was comfortable enough, but it was so quiet in the house, and it definitely was not your own, familiar, bed. Just when you would be close to finally falling asleep, the wind would gust making the old farm house creak under the strain, starting your cycle over again. Eventually, the storm died down and you were able to get some sleep, but it probably wouldn’t be enough to let you feel human.

    Mercifully, when you woke, Dean was lying on his side facing you, blocking the annoyingly bright light that was streaming in through the windows. The night before, you hadn’t noticed the three smaller windows on the south wall. Six damned windows with nothing but a thin, plain curtain to block the light on the three largest. There wasn’t a thing covering the smaller ones.

    Dean was still sleeping, somehow. His long, dark lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks. The image of Coach Winchester flashed into your mind and what you’d said. You smiled thinking about it and looked at the handsome man lying next to you. I think I have a crush on Dean, you thought.

    Impulsively, you rolled toward him and lightly kissed his cheek. He didn’t stir as you pu8lled away and slipped out of bed. The shock of cold on your bed-warmed body brought you a special kind of hatred for John Winchester. You’d come from northern Minnesota, you hadn’t expected it to be so cold down in Kansas. Consequently, you hadn’t brought a sweater.

    Dean’s duffle was open on the floor and you spotted a cable-knit cardigan stuffed to the side of his bag. Carefully you pulled it out and put it on over your flannel pajama top. An extra layer would be better than going down to the kitchen in just your pajamas.

    Quietly, you opened the bedroom door and slipped out and made your way toward the kitchen. For as late as you all had been up the night before, it surprised you that you could smell coffee and hear the sounds of breakfast preparation coming from the kitchen. You were even more surprised to see John behind the stove.

    “Good mornin’, sunshine,” he said, clearly mocking your surly disposition. “Tough bein’ up this early?”

    “It is when I have a hangover,” you looked at him through squinted eyes. “And I’m not a morning person.”

    “Where’s Dean, he still sleeping?” he asked.

    You nodded. John pulled a pill bottle out of the cupboard over the coffee maker and loudly put the bottle on the island. The pills inside made a terrible noise.

    “Coffee?” he ventured.

    You shook your head, “Water.”

    John had already gotten dishes out for breakfast and took one of the glasses to the sink and filled it for you. While he was doing that, you opened the pill bottle and tapped out three of the pills, hoping that would be enough. John gave you the icy cold water and you downed the pills in a gulp. You wanted to make sure your stomach accepted the new fluid before ingesting more. That Johnnie Walker had been a lot stronger than you had thought it was.

     “Not being a morning person must make work easier. Do you have kids?” he asked.

    You weren’t sure how being a night-owl would make work easier for you. It was too damned early in the morning for mind games, especially since you weren’t in top form.

    “No, no kids. Not even a fur baby,” you answered.

    “How did you and Dean meet?” he asked like you hadn’t already repeated the story at least twice the previous day.

    “Dean needed a tune-up, so he came to my garage,” you felt a little uncomfortable and kept to the basics.

    John was getting food out and ready to be cooked.

    “Do you always date customers?” he asked looking you over.

    You held your glass with both hands and thought about throwing it in his face for what he was implying.

    “No, I broke a personal rule for him,” you said.

    “And now you’re getting married,” he broke an egg into a mixing bowl.

    You left your spot at the island and went to the coffee maker. The cupboard above held the mugs and you got one out, pouring a cup for Dean.

    “I think I’ll go see if he’s up now,” you took the mug and your glass of water and tried to leave the kitchen without further incident. You didn’t have to look to know that John was watching your every move, you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away.

    “Don’t you need cream and sugar?” he called to you.

    “Nope, he takes it black,” you said without stopping. You didn’t want him to see you rattled.

       You tucked your water between your body and arm so you could open the bedroom door. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made your hand shake as you reached for the knob. Inside, the sun had warmed the bedroom and Dean was still lying in bed, huddled under a mound of blankets.

    You put your glass and the mug on the nightstand by your side of the bed. The blankets were still flipped down, and you kicked yourself for not flipping them up before you went downstairs. Any heat that had been there from your body was gone. Instead, you carefully eased yourself up onto the bed, sitting close to Dean and so you could see his face. He was lying on his back now and you were 80% sure he was awake though his eyes were closed.

    “Your dad caught me off guard,” you said softly. “I think he’s got it stuck in his head that I’m a stripper.”

    “He’s a real charmer,” his voice was low, and his eyes were still closed. He rolled partially onto his side and opened his eyes a sliver. “What are you doing up already?”

    “Couldn’t sleep. Too quiet. Too bright.”

    “Too weird?” his eyes opened more.

    “I mean…I wasn’t gonna say it, but… a bit,” you admitted, “and you snore.”

    “I do not,” he said, “besides, you’re the one that snores.”

    “Whatever, I barely slept,” you scoffed.

    “You slept fine in Minneapolis,” he said.

    “Touché,” you said, rolling onto your knee to grab the coffee off the nightstand, “I got you this.”

    He slowly sat up to take the mug from her. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed the sweet, sweet aroma of coffee sooner. As he took a drink of the coffee, he wondered if maybe he should have a talk with his dad about (Y|N). Even if she were a stripper, she didn’t deserve harsh treatment, and he didn’t want her feeling uncomfortable.

    “A guy could get used to this,” he said between drinks.

    Dean’s hair was all over the place and he still looked half-asleep. The coffee was doing its work, but slowly. His t-shirt was stretched across the broad expanse of his shoulders, and the light from the window was highlighting the fine hairs on his strong arms. You could get used to mornings like this with Dean, too.

    “What?” Dean noticed you staring at him.

    “You’re cute,” you said bluntly, looking at his bedhead and adorable freckles.

    “Shaddap,” he smiled.

    “No, I’m serious. Don’t women tell you you’re cute?”

    “I think I’m adorable…” he took a drink of the coffee.

    “Dean.”

    “I mean,” he shrugged as if to say, ‘look at me’ but continued with,” Yeah, but they’re not usually still with me in the morning, or my fake fiancé.”

    “I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered,” you said then reached for your water.

    “What about you? Any skeletons I need to know about, other than driving a Tesla,” he shook his head, still in disbelief.

    That comment and reaction made you laugh out loud. You had to think on it a bit, but you were pretty sure you didn’t have any other bombshells to drop on Dean.

    “No, I don’t think so,” you said. “Pretty clean. Goody-two-shoes. I do have a pretty big nest egg saved up. I had roommates for years and saved a lot. Plus, my dad left me a chunk that I invested.”

    “Oh really?” he asked.

    “Yes. And I know what you’re thinking. This is just a way to get to my dream quicker,” you explained. “I’ll still give it my all.”

    “You know about the women I see, what about you? What’s your favorite flavor?”

    It was his turn to put you on the spot and it turned out that maybe you did have a skeleton or two. To keep it a mutually beneficial arrangement, you needed to keep up your end of the deal.

    “I do have a particular weakness for bikers,” you admitted. “Not the weekend-warrior type, the break-limbs if you look at ‘em wrong kind.”

    Dean raised his eyebrows at you, “Really?” he drew the word out.

    “Yeah,” you said, “don’t be judgey. Women have needs, too.”

    “And that’s for violent bikers?” he assumed.

    “There’s the judgey part.”

    “What did you get out of that?”

    “What did you get out of dating strippers?” you shot back.

    “You’re right?” he looked into his mug, “I’m sorry.” He raised a hand in surrender.

    “Just so you know, I was treated like a queen. Besides, it never lasted more than a few months, anyway. Club first, always.”

    A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. Both of you thought about the people you’d chosen to be in your lives, knowing that they would never last. That had been part of the fun, but you were also waiting for the right one to come along.

    “Here’s to us and our bad decisions,” Dean raised his mug.

    You clinked your glass against his mug then you both took a drink. You looked at Dean and marveled at your circumstances. Your personal rule about not dating customers had prevented you from even thinking about dating him. Spending time with him over the last few days made you realize what you had been missing. Not with the customers, but with him specifically, though… he did make it clear he didn’t have time for a personal life outside of this week.

    “Here’s to us making better choices,” you said raising your glass again. Dean took the toast and drank with you.

    “You ready for the rest of the day?” Dean asked.

    “Yeah, I’m a little nervous to meet Sam and Jess, though,” you told him.

    He put his hand on your knee, “Don’t be. You survived my dad, you’ll be fine. I’ll be close if it gets hairy.” He patted your knee. “C’mon. Let’s do this.”

    Before he got out of the bed, he turned to you and said, “Is that my sweater?”

    You laughed, “Wow. Took you long enough.”

       By the time you and Dean were ready and heading to the kitchen, Ellen and Bobby were already at the table with two new people you assumed were Sam and Jess. John was behind the stove which had a skillet where he was finishing up pancakes, bacon and hash browns. John, Ellen and Bobby all greeted you and Dean as the two of you entered the kitchen. From behind you, Dean breathed out an audible “whoa” as he realized his brother and fiancé were at the table, too.

     “It’s about time you two showed up. Breakfast is about ready,” John said from behind the stove.

    “Sad when we’re up before you kids,” Bobby teased.

    “Speak for yourself. I coulda stood a little more shuteye,” Ellen countered, grasping her coffee like it was giving her life.

    A very large man pushed back from the table and stood up. You recognized him from the pictures Dean had shown you as his brother, Sam. Dean stepped out from behind you, a smile on his face as Sam wiped his mouth on a napkin and tossed it on his chair.

    “You’re gonna be napping by three, Bobby,” Sam patted the older man’s shoulder as he passed by. He crossed the space to Dean and the two brothers shared a quick hug.

    “I hear I’m not the only Winchester getting married,” Sam said, looking between the two of you.

    Dean blushed slightly, looking bashful, “Yeah, you heard right. Sammy, this is (Y|N), my fiancé.”

    “Hi Sam,” you said, “it’s nice to meet you.”

    The very pretty blonde woman came walking over and you knew she had to be Jess. She looked very well put together for being up as early as they had to have been to arrive for breakfast. You somewhat envied her designer clothes.

    “It’s nice to meet you, too. What a nice surprise,” Sam’s tone was genuine. “This gorgeous creature is my fiancé, Jessica.”

    “Jess,” she said with a smile.

    This sizing up was getting to be a very familiar sight over the last day and Sam and Jess just continued the trend. It made you wonder what John, Bobby, and Ellen had told them in your absence.

    “You two are lawyers, right?” you asked.

    “Didn’t Dean tell you?” Jess asked.

    Of course, they are, you thought. “Yeah, he did. I was wondering what kind.” You were going to need a lawyer to help you get your business started.

    “Do you need a lawyer?” Sam said, looking at you like you were a criminal and you were getting tired of it.

    “Hey,” Dean interrupted just as you were about to set them right, “we can talk shop later. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

    Dean put his hand on your back to move you toward the table. Sam and Jessica went back to their seats at the table. However, your irritation with the Winchesters was rising. Everyone was assuming the worst of you and you spun around on Dean.

    “Honey? A word?” you gave him a look that said it wasn’t optional. He followed you to a spot just outside of the kitchen in the formal dining room.

    “How the hell am I ever going to get in their good graces if they all assume the worst of me?” you were struggling to keep your voice even. “Are you gonna set them straight? They either believe I’m a gold-digger, or don’t want to believe I could be anything else.”

    “I’ll talk to them, I promise,” he said.

    “I hope so. I’m damn good at what I do, and I’ve never needed anyone to pat me on the back for it, but… I need it from you,” you hated letting the emotion get to you. “At least, for this week.”

    “(Y|N),” Dean held your shoulders in his hands and didn’t continue until you looked up at him, “I promise.” He waited for you to give him a nod, “Let’s go eat.”

       When breakfast was done and put away, you found yourself sitting in awkward silence with Jess. John had taken the boys outside to help him with some chores and Bobby and Ellen had taken off to go do their part. That left you and Jess in the living room.

    “Tell me about you and Sam. How did you meet? When did you know he was the one? How did he propose?” you asked hoping it would spark conversation. Anything had to be better than the deafening silence.

    Jess told you everything. She said how she spotted the tall, awkward man on campus, struggling to get a building door open. He’d been carrying too many books and a campus map. She’d taken pity on him and got the door for him and showed him where his class was. Jess explained that she had friends that went to Stanford the year before and she had visited.

    “Honestly, after that day, he sent me a dozen pink roses and that was when I knew. Guys just don’t do that anymore, ya know?”

    You nodded. Dean wasn’t a romantic, you could tell, but he was also very intimate.

    “He asked me to marry him at our favorite restaurant the night before Thanksgiving…” she went on to tell you every detail Sam had thought of and how perfect everything had all been. Then she showed you her ring.

    “It was Mary’s,” she said with a smile.

    “And what about you?” she asked. “I gotta say, I didn’t think Dean ever thought about marrying anyone after Laura.”

    You knew Dean had almost gotten married once, but you didn’t think he’d ever mentioned her name. It didn’t matter much though, you just rolled with it.

    “It came as a surprise to me, too,” you said. If she only knew half of it, you thought. “We’d gone shopping, had dinner in our room and he asked me. It was really nice,” you thought back on it and how it felt real, even if it was all for show. “Just the two of us, no distractions.” You leaned forward to show her your ring, “This one was their grandmother’s.”

    “Nostalgic bunch, aren’t they?” Jess noticed.

    “We did alright, huh?” you said.

    Jess suddenly shifted in her seat to face you more direct.

    “Real talk?” she asked.

    “Sure,” you nodded.

    “I know Dean thinks I can be a bit of a social climber and that I don’t care about people, but I do. I would really like for us to be friends. If it doesn’t work, friendly is okay, too. Sam won’t say it, but he’s always looked up to Dean and would really like it if they could spend more time together.”

    “I’d like to be friends, too,” you told her. What could it hurt?

    “I gotta know… are you really a mechanic?” she asked.

    You laughed, “I feel like a broken record. I swear, on my life, that is my one, and only, job.”

    “Wow,” she said, sitting back in her seat, “Dean must really be serious. I know you’re engaged and all, but…honestly, you’re the type of woman I thought he would go for.”

    “And what type is that?” you asked without malice.

    “You know, someone not more interested in herself. Someone with a brain and could stand up to… well…this.” She spread her hands wide. “Not to mention, handling Dean. He looks very taken with you. I can’t remember seeing him smile that much. Not in a long time.”

         You didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t like you could spill your guts and tell her everything that was going on. Not yet, anyway. It was nice to hear though. But was it really for you, or just the version of you that you were presenting to everyone? Rather than addressing it with Jess, you changed the subject.

    “I suppose we should get out there, huh? Looks like shareholders have been arriving for a while.”

    Out the front windows, you could see people walking with their spouses and families. Cars were pulling up and valets were parking the cars away from the house so as not to distract from the festivities. Jess was looking too and threw a furtive glance from the window to you before giving in. The strange look on Jess’ face made you wonder what she saw, but she gave in quickly enough when she spotted Sam.

    Once the two of you got outside, Jess took off to meet up with Sam and left you near the back of the house where an enormous tent had been set up for the skating rink that had been built for the gala’s week-long celebration. You scanned the faces of the revelers looking for Dean.

    “They’re in the barn,” a man was working on finishing touches for the rink. He was wearing a parka that had “The Cage” printed on the back and some other faded writing that you couldn’t quite make out.

    “Excuse me?” you said to him.

    “You must be looking for Dean or John, right?” the man took off his leather gloves and clasped them in one hand.

    “Yeah, how’d you know?”

    He shrugged, “Good guess. Quite the setup, huh?”

    You had to agree. John went all out, and everything looked spectacular. There was the space for the rink, which had skate “rental” inside. You could hear music playing in there. Not to mention, there were kiosks for foods and drinks scattered about as well as photo booths. There was even a marked path that had signs pointing to all the attractions like the path that led to a sledding hill, the one that led to the pond for “the real skating” as Dean had said, and one that read “North Pole.” And every bit of it was decorated to the hilt.

    “This is incredible,” you said. “The kids must be thrilled with the snow that came last night. Are you working?”

    “Yeah, sorry, I’m Adam,” he said.

    “(YN),” you said.

    “I come down from Hell every year to do this,” he explained.

    “Hell?”

    “Hell, Michigan,” he grinned. “It’s the one perk of living there. My boss wants me to tell people he let me out of The Cage to bring Hell to Kansas.”

    You gave him a questioning look.

    “Moved there a few years ago. Boss thinks he’s funny,” Adam rolled his eyes. There was something familiar about him… “Better get back to it,” he continued. “You have a nice time.”

    “Thank you.”

    Finally, you spotted Dean walking out of the barn, just as Adam had guessed. You gave Adam a wave and went off to meet up with Dean.

       “What the hell is he doing here?” Dean pulled the wheel chocks from the hayrack cart.

    “Working, just like all of us,” John was calm. It wasn’t the first time Dean made it known that he didn’t like seeing Adam. “He’s got just as much right to be here as any of us.”

    “No, he doesn’t!” Dean was so angry. “He’s not a Winchester. You keep pushing how family is important, but you don’t mean your own family.”

    “Is that what this is about? You think Adam has some claim on your inheritance?”

    “Of course, that’s what you think… this was Mom’s favorite holiday and every time you bring him here, it’s not just a slap in the face to her memory, but it’s also a reminder of why she’s dead!”

    John had often underestimated Dean. His oldest son was more observant and smarter than he gave him credit for. It made him wonder when he’d figured it out.

    Dean had never said it out loud. He’d known for years what had really happened to his mother, but he stayed silent for Sam’s sake. With (Y|N) being along, he couldn’t take his father’s two-faced lies any longer.

    “Are you going to tell Sam?” John wanted to know.

    “What makes you think he doesn’t know?” Dean took a second of pleasure from the look on his dad’s face. “I never said anything, but Sam is no dummy. You just keep pushing the button.”

    “What am I supposed to do, Dean? He’s my kid,” John would do what he thought was right, no matter what Dean had to say.

    “I don’t know, Dad,” Dean swung the chocks with such force, they slammed against the wall behind the cart. “Maybe you could get off your high horse for a while and realize that once you push us away, we’re not coming back.”

    John didn’t have anything else to say and Dean didn’t stick around to hear any more if he did. He stalked out of the barn and back to the house as quick as he could. His eyes scanned the crowd for (Y|N). There were a lot of peoples and families walking around, but he found her easily. A woman like her stood out, it didn’t matter how she dressed, people noticed her. He noticed her.

    As he got closer, he realized who she was talking to and swallowed hard. Thankfully, she spotted him and left behind the interloper. She had no idea who Adam was, and he walked away when he saw Dean coming.

    “Hey! Where’ve you been? Ready to get your skate on?” you asked. You noticed the scowl that was on Dean’s face, “You okay?”

    “I’m ah, okay, just getting the hayrack ready for the tractor. Gave me more trouble than I expected,” he didn’t want to talk about what happened yet. He really didn’t want to skate either, not with everyone in the rink. He would much rather take (Y|N) down to the pond. It was further away and would probably have less people.

    You didn’t buy his story for a second. Dean had told you before that he and his dad often did not agree. Though he’d gone to help his dad, you suspected John had done, or said, something to upset Dean. You knew better than to press the issue, besides, you could always ask him later.

    “Okay, are we doing this, or what?” you asked.

    Dean stuck out his elbow for you and walked you to the back of the property, behind the house, to where the rink had been set up. The food kiosks smelled wonderful. Christmas music was playing. Popcorn was popping. Cotton candy hanging in bags for guests. Ciders. Hot chocolate. Any holiday treat you could think of was there. Dean didn’t slow down as you passed by the trailer that had the loaner skates. Instead, he took you to the furthest end of the rink. There were less people there and you could hear him better.

    Sam and Jess were already on the ice and looked amazing. You’d only just met them, and you already knew that they were the couple that did everything well and you either loved them or hated them. They glided gracefully around the rink and you felt undecided on what category you fell into regarding the couple.

    Dean sat on a small set of bleachers that had been set up spectators. He could see Sam and Jess stop to talk to some employees he recognized from the dealership in town. (Y|N) had his attention though. She was leaning on the barrier, her leggings showing off her assets.

    Feeling his eyes on you, you looked over your shoulder at Dean. He hadn’t looked up from your ass yet.

    “Hey, creeper, come be social,” you said, snapping him out of his daze.

    Dean got up from his spot. Sam and Jess had spotted them and were coming over to chat. He leaned his elbows on the barrier next to (Y|N). You noticed that Dean never seemed to feel the cold. He only had on his usual coat and a scully. You slipped your arm under his and took his hand with your gloved one. Dean said nothing, he just looked at you sideways with a hint of a smile on his features. His fingers wrapped around yours, his thumb stroking the soft material of your glove. It was such a small gesture, but it made you feel like you were on top of the world. You leaned into his shoulder, reminding yourself it was completely natural to feel this way.

    “Hey, you love birds,” Jess said as she and Sam came to a stop near you and Dean. “You two look so cute together, are you going to come skate with us?”

    The plan had been to skate, but he’d seemed to have abandoned that for the moment. You waited for him to answer, unsure if you should. When you realized he didn’t know what to say, you jumped in.

    “I think we’ll mingle out here for a bit, grab some snacks, then go skate. I don’t want everyone to see me fall so much,” you laughed.

    “Oh, I’m sure you’re amazing,” Jess responded.

    “If you guys change your mind,” Sam’s words trailed off, letting you fill in the blank.

    Dean didn’t correct you. Instead, he walked you around the outside of the rink saying hello to people he knew and introducing himself to those he didn’t. When he introduced you, he always referred to you as his fiancé. A lot of the people had similar questions. When you’d made a full lap around the rink, you’d answered the same questions two or three times each. One thing you’d noticed was that everyone was happy that Dean had “found a nice girl” and was “finally settling down.”

    With a little more mingling, Dean led you back to the opening of the rink to where the skates were being loaned out and gave your size to the attendant.

    “Figure skates or hockey?” they asked.

    “Figure skates, please,” you answered.

    “Hockey,” Dean said, as if there were no other option.

    Skates slung over your shoulder, Dean led you to the next kiosk. Dean tried to introduce you to the lady who was running it.

    “Missouri Mosley, this is…”

    “I know who this is. Let me look at you, honey,” she said taking your hand. You felt like she was looking into your soul. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “Cinnamon roll with pecans?”

    Dean rolled his eyes.

    “Oh my God, that’s exactly what I was going to ask for,” you said.

    Missouri let go of your hand to go fill your order.

    Dean called after Missouri, “I’ll have…”

    Missouri raised her hand to stop him from speaking, “If you think I don’t know what you want by now.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue against her teeth.

    Missouri handed you a plate with a fork and the most delicious looking cinnamon roll you had ever seen, still warm and steaming in the cold air. For Dean, she handed him a similar plate, but the roll was drenched in icing.

    “Cinnamon roll, extra icing,” Missouri said, dryly.

    The look of utter joy on Dean’s face was so unrestrained, it warmed you.

    “Now don’t you mess it up with this nice girl, Dean Winchester. This one can give you a run for your money, but not like the others. She’s different and you know it, boy,” she said to Dean. “She’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

    “Don’t do that Jedi mind-crap on me, Missouri,” Dean balked.

    Missouri gave Dean a glare before turning her attention back to you.

    “You go on keeping him in line, sweetheart. He might fuss, but he likes it. Especially from a strong woman like you. Don’t let his stupidity push you away.”

    With a glance at Dean, Missouri rolled her eyes this time and made a motion like she was done with him. When you got your wits back about you, you saw Dean already had a mouthful of cinnamon roll and was giving Missouri’s back a dirty look.

    “I’m not stupid,” he said through his full mouth.

    You couldn’t help but laugh. He had icing and crumbs at the corners of his mouth. You pulled off your glove and used the pad of your thumb to wipe away the icing. Without even thinking, you licked the sweetness off your thumb.

    Dean was a little taken aback by (Y|N). He didn’t want to think that Missouri was right about her, but it was hard to deny that he was experiencing growing feelings for (Y|N).

    “I know sweetie,” you said. “Even if you are derpy sometimes, you make up for it with cute.”

    “Hmm,” he finished his bite. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

    The next booth over had the biggest mugs of hot chocolate you’d ever been given. Everything was on such a grand scale, you couldn’t imagine what the actual gala would be like. Finally, Dean took you down to the pond.

    The pond was bigger than you thought it would be. Bleachers were set up on either side. Lights were strung up all around the outside on poles. There was a small shelter at one edge that had a big window in it which faced the pond. At the other end was another small shelter on skids that you knew was and ice fishing shack. When you got closer, there were nets on the snow by the shelter and that the ice had been prepared for skating.

    Dean took you inside the shelter with the big window and turned on the power. The heater came to life and a small radio hummed on the counter. Dean pulled out the two chairs that were used for the game call.

    “Wow, this is cozy,” you said, taking one of the chairs.

    “Eventually, the heater will blow air slightly warmer than it is now,” Dean started right in on his hot chocolate and roll. “Better eat while it’s still a little warm.”

    One bite of the cinnamon roll and you wanted to go profess your love to Missouri Mosley.

    “Oh my God, this is the best cinnamon roll I have ever had,” you said.

    Dean tapped his finger on your mug, not saying anything, just wanting you to try it.

    After one sip, “I’m never leaving.”

    The drink felt like silk on your tongue. The flavor was full and rich with a hint of a spice you were unfamiliar with. And the cream…

    “Paprika,” he answered your nagging question.

    “Mind blown,” you returned.

    Dean licked his fingers before reaching into his pocket for his phone. Not only did it surprise you that Dean had a phone, but it was also a smart phone. He pushed a few buttons and music started playing.

    You were anxious to get out on the ice, so you didn’t waste time eating your roll. It was too good not to devour. When your plate was clean, you pushed your forward and sat back in your chair. You were so full it was tough to get a breath.

    “Maybe we should skip skating. I think I might go over the weight limit,” you groaned and rubbed your belly.

    Dean chuckled, “Benny was out here resurfacing. If it can hold him, it can hold anyone.”

    “Who is Benny, again? Was he your buddy from…high school?”

    “High school, yeah. We were on the wrestling team. Then he worked with me at the brewery. He’s running the floor now,” Dean explained.

    “He gonna be okay with you running the business?”

    He shrugged, “If he doesn’t like it, that’s on him. We got along well enough when we worked together. Guess we’ll see.”

    You squeezed his arm, “Let’s go skate off the decadence.”

    Dean put his music on the PA, and you went outside to get on your skates. Finally, you were laced up and ready to go. The skates you’d been loaned fit shockingly well. Dean, not having any complaints, carefully followed you to the ice. He seemed to be way more confident on the ice than you. AS part of living so far north in Minnesota, for as long as you had, it was practically required that you skate at least once.  Remembering how your last outing had gone, you moved ever so carefully and were grateful for the toe pick, your only source of traction.

    “I’m gonna warm up, you good?” Dean asked.

    George Thorogood was singing about his rent being late…

    You were holding out your arms for balance and getting used to the feel of the blades under your feet again. It had been a long, long time since you last wore any. Concentrating too hard for words, you gave Dean a thumbs-up and he took off doing hot-laps around the rink.

    Liar, liar, pants on fire, you thought as you saw his blur out the corner of your eye. He was way better than he’d let on. You were moving slowly now, but it could be considered skating, at least. The pond was so far out of the way, you could only hear the music and the sound of your and Dean’s skates on the ice. He was slowing down to match your turtle’s pace.

    “Coming up on your left, sweetheart,” he said.

    Gently, he took your elbow, then moved into place to take your hand, steadying you. It took a few strides to fall into step with him before you both moved smoothly.

    “You made me think you couldn’t skate,” you said evenly.

    “I said I didn’t skate on purpose, not that I couldn’t,” he said helping you turn.

    “Man, of many talents,” you mused.

    He chuckled, deciding to not walk through that particular door just yet.

    “What was Missouri getting at?” you wanted to know. “That was one of the weirdest conversations I’ve been part of.”

    “Oh… um…” he didn’t know how to put it. “She’s a bit of a mystic.”

    “She knew who I was and what I wanted.”

    “People talk,” he reasoned. “Missouri only sells cinnamon rolls.” About fifteen different kinds, though.

    “Okay,” you could see that point, “but she said I was the one you were waiting for.”

    Dean’s skate must have hit a hidden piece of debris in the ice because he suddenly lost his footing on the ice, stumbling and pulling you down with him. A moment of stunned silence passed between you. Dean grimaced for a second before opening his eyes to see you looking down at him. The only sound was coming from the PA.

           Baby, you’re all that I want

           When you’re lyin’ here in my arms

           I’m findin’ it hard to believe

           We’re in heaven

    Your hands clutched Dean’s jacket. His body firm and surprisingly warm under you. Maybe the heat was you… Your face was so close to his. His breath still smelled like hot chocolate and frosting. You could see the fine sprinkling of freckles across his cheeks and nose. It would take just a second to kiss him…

           And love is all that I need

           And I found it here in your heart

           It isn’t too hard to see

           We’re in heaven

    The music finally made it to your ears. Your eyes searched into his green ones.

    “Is it Bryan Adams?”

    You got your knees up under you and you sat back on his lap.

    “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” you asked as he sat up under you.

    “I’m fine,” he said somewhat avoiding your gaze.

    You could feel the ice start to seep into your leggings.

    “Guess we better get outta here before we freeze like this,” you suggested, but you didn’t really mean it.

    Dean looked at you with those eyes that you could get lost in forever. You pulled off your gloves, concerned that he’s banged his head on the ice, you cupped one hand on his neck just below his ear. You used your other hand to run your fingers through his hair and to the back of his head, checking for signs of injury or swelling. He let you do as you pleased, watching you the whole time.

    Dean’s hand rested on your thighs, his hands gripping the muscle there as you ran your fingers over his scalp. You didn’t fight him as his hands traveled up your legs and round your hips to pull you closer to him.

    Your heart was keeping a dangerous pace in your chest as you leaned back to look at him. Hands still on his handsome face and in his thick hair, he looked at you the way you were looking at him. Dean’s hands left a trail of electricity as they traveled up your back to finally pull your mouth to his.

    You closed your eyes and bursts of light flashed against your eyes like fireworks. His arms squeezed tightly around you and you held onto his shoulders so you could remember which way was up.

    “No guests on the ice!” a voice boomed over the PA and it wasn’t one you recognized.

    The rude intrusion startled you both, Dean’s head whipping around to put a face to the voice, though he already knew who it was. You were already moving to let Dean get up off the ice when he helped you slide over.

    “This isn’t done, sweetheart,” he said, getting up off the ice.

    Better not be.

    Dean’s rage was ready to come out in an explosion. The man on the PA was already stalking across the ice to where he and (Y|N) had been before Benny interrupted.

    “What in the hell are you…Dean? Figures,” Benny barked.

    “Just can’t leave anything alone, can you, Benny?” Dean growled back.

    “What the hell does that mean?”

    “You know damn well what I mean. I’m out here with my fiancé, and you gotta come ruin it. You going to try to take her away from me, too?”

    “I am so tired of this shit, Dean. It’s been fifteen years, brother, when are you going to let this shit go?”

    “Let’s settle it once and for all,” Dean looked around at the rink. “Tonight, when we play, winner gets a free slap shot and the loser doesn’t bring it up again.”

    “Are you fucking serious,” Benny was sure Dean has lost his mind.

    “Don’t I look serious?”

    You were watching as this weird interaction played out in front of you. You thought Dean and Benny were friends…

    “Alright…” Benny drawled, “tonight then. Now get off my ice, you arrogant bastard. Ma’am.” Benny nodded at you then walked away.

    “What the hell was that?” you asked Dean.

    When his temper calmed down a little, Dean explained as you went to the shack to get the dishes and his phone.

    “Benny was the reason Laura wouldn’t marry me,” he said.

    “You told me it was mutual.”

    “I thought it was.”

    “So, what happened?”

    “I went on our honeymoon and when I got back, I found out about them. Dad had been working me like a mule and not listening to ideas… I didn’t have time for Laura. It was a good time to go, but not before I told Benny what a piece of shit he was, and he’d never be as good in the brewery as me. It was like he was trying to take over my life. He runs the brewery floor, has my dad’s favor, married my ex…”

    You told yourself that the twist your stomach was doing was the fault of your rich treat and not the stabbing pain of jealousy. It had only been a few days. Your logical mind refused to believe you had feelings for Dean that were more than a crush. That kiss though… that wasn’t lust, that was passion. Your lips could still feel his and you brushed your fingertips over them as you smiled. No, it wasn’t a crush. All you wanted was to kiss him like that again… every day until… forever.

       Jess told you that the hockey game was something they did each year. John and Bobby had only just quit playing a few years prior. It was supposed to be a friendly match-up between the brewery and dealerships. Sam captained the brewery and Dean the dealerships.

    “I have to warn you, the game gets intense,” Jess warned. “They play for two hundred dollars and a vacation day for the whole side.”

    “Two hundred split per team isn’t much,” you said.

    You and Jess were sitting on the bleachers you’d seen earlier with Dean. The lights were on now and gave the pond a soft glow in the quickly setting sunlight.

    Jess touched your arm, “No, no. That’s two hundred per employee plus a vacation day, each.”

    Holy shit. “And the losers?”

    “Fifty and a half day.”

    It made more sense now. You wondered if what plans Dean had, if any, for the business. He mentioned new brews and changing how production worked, but not much of actual business. Maintaining this level of benefit and showiness would really hurt the bottom line at the end of the year. You could help Dean with managing the business, but after the week was over, you’d be out of Dean’s life again and you wouldn’t be able to help him at all. Maybe you could change his mind.

    You continued to chat with Jess until the game started. The roar of the crowd shocked you. The bleachers on each side were full and people were standing around the edges to watch. Once the game got in full-swing, you realized most players wore minimal padding and no helmets. The lack of protection didn’t lessen the players’ intensity, they were ferocious. Dean and Benny took every chance they got to land a blow on the other.

    It was exciting to watch the game. There was plenty of action and Dean was playing aggressively and it was hot. When there was a break between periods, you went to the concession area to get a snack. If everything was half as good as what Missouri had made, you couldn’t possibly go wrong.

    You found a stand that had the best smell coming from it and got in line. Jess had gone to talk to other people she knew leaving you to get food on your own. You didn’t know anyone there and Dean was doing team things… So, when you felt a hand run across the full length of your ass, you didn’t think, you swung your elbow back.

    “Whoa, darlin’, just checking out the goods here,” John indicated the concession menu.

    You didn’t believe him for a second. He continued despite your glare.

    “I checked on a place called “Chuck’s Garage” in Bemidji, couldn’t find one,” his tone not accusatory.

    Of course, you did, you thought.

    “Well, I’m not surprised,” you told him, stepping forward in the line.

    “Why would you lie about where you work, hiding something?”

    It was beyond annoying now.

    “No. Its actual name isn’t “Chuck’s Garage,” I just call it that because I refuse to call it “Heaven on Wheels.” Next time you want to check up on me, google my name or Chuck Shurley. Better yet, just ask me.”

    “I’d ask Dean, but I don’t think he knows you all that well.”

    “He knows me better than almost anyone,” you weren’t lying. You’d told things that even Donna didn’t know. You moved forward with the line again.

    “I know Dean want to run the brewery. And I know he would go to any length to get it, including a ploy to make me think he’s in love,” he kept his voice low so only you could hear. “I don’t want hand over my hard work to a man not in a stable relationship.”

    “Is it really so hard to believe that your son could be in love with me, or I him?” you were incredulous.

    Your blood was boiling. He had a lot of nerve talking to you like that. Maybe he was protecting his son. Maybe he was protecting himself. You couldn’t even be sure that protection was the motivation. You stepped forward and gave your order at the window.

    “There’s something going on here and I’m going to find out what it is,” he said.

    You took your order from the window and turned to him making sure he, and everyone in earshot, heard you loud and clear.

    “You do what you have to do. But I assure you, if you ever touch me in a way less than fatherly again, next time I will not miss,” you stalked off back to your spot in the bleachers wondering how the hell Dean had a dad like that.

    Jess saw you coming, just in time for the next period to start. She noticed your obvious change in demeanor.

    “Are you okay?” she asked. “You only went to get food, what happened?”

    “John,” you said through gritted teeth.

    Jess leaned back, “What did he do?”

    You just shook your head trying to get the rage you were feeling to subside. John deserved a punch in the face, but it helped that you told him off in front of everyone.

    “He accused me of lying, not being in love with Dean and I’m pretty sure he grabbed my ass,” you seethed.

    Jess was shocked by John’s behavior, but not surprised.

    “Sam told me after their mom died, John changed. He didn’t care about anything anymore. He alienated everyone not associated with the businesses. John wasn’t much of a parent either. The only reason Bobby and Ellen stuck around was for the boys. I’m not excusing him, I’m just saying, he wasn’t always like this,” she paused. “Did you deck him?”

    You snorted, “No, but I wish I had.”

    “I’m sorry. Don’t let him get to you. I can tell you and Dean love each other. Whatever else doesn’t matter.” Jess let a few more moments pass before she said, “Would you and Dean want to get a mani/pedi with me and Sam tomorrow?”

    That made you laugh out loud.

    “I’m down, but it might take a little convincing to get Dean to go along,” you said.

    “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said with a knowing smile.

       The game continued with the same aggression as it had in the first period, though dean and Benny were the only ones actively seeking out the other. By the end of the game, you and Jess had eaten all of your snacks and both teams were exhausted and slightly worse for wear.

    Dean was still with his team and shaking hands with the opposing side. The crowd was filing out of the bleachers to head home with the game being the last event of that day. When most of the people were gone, you got up and stood at the edge of the ice to wait for Dean to come over.

    With skates on, he was so much taller than you, he towered. He was still sweating and breathing hard from the game, but it was getting better already. He slid to a stop in front of you, his skates making a “shh” sound as he stopped.

    “Interesting game,” you said looking up at him. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

    “Yeah, I do. Fair is fair,” he said making eye contact with you. Benny was practicing shots behind him. The brewery had won the game by one goal.

    “Hey,” you pulled his arm to get his attention. “Promise me you’ll let it go after this.”

    Dean just sighed.

    “Fine, be a stubborn ass!” you ranted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he aimed for your head!”

    One of Benny’s practice shots hit the metal post with a loud clang, and it scared you. You’d heard about people getting a concussion, or worse, from a stray puck at professional games. Dean was going to let Benny take a shot at him, with no padding. The stick cracked loudly with each shot Benny took, sending the puck flying in a blur into the net.

    “Back in a minute,” he said and skated to center ice.

    You weren’t going to watch him get his head caved in, so you started to make your way back up toward the house. In a bit of a snit, you hadn’t paid much attention to who was around.

    “Are you Dean’s fiancé?” a woman asked from the bleachers.

    You nodded, “Who are you?”

    “Laura Lafitte,” she answered.

    For you, it would have been better if she were a hag. Instead, she had a gorgeous olive complexion, complete with dark hair and eyes, her expression not unkind.

    “Am I going to have any problems with you and Dean?” you were blunt. You’d been through enough bullshit for one day and had zero patience for more.

    “No,” she answered right away. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was awful to Dean and I hope he’s over us now.”

    “It’s not about you, princess. He loves me. He wants to marry me. Dean is upset about the people he loved sneaking around behind his back. He’s pissed that they’re still doing it. He just wants the life that keeps getting taken from him,” you were on a roll, first John, now Laura.

    You looked back at the pond just in time to see Benny at the top of his swing. In a blink, Benny had connected sending the puck rocketing toward Dean.

       “Ow.”

    “Shut up.”

    He didn’t like how vigorous (Y|N) was cleaning the cut on his forehead.

    “Hey, I’m the one who took a slapshot to the head,” he defended.

    “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

    “It only grazed me,” he muttered making a face as she pulled off a piece of dead skin. “Jesus, are you using steel wool?”

    “And who’s fault is it you have this cut, anyway?” she said with a Band-Aid clenched between her teeth. “Don’t you dare say it’s them. This is all you. You’re the one deciding how this all goes.”

    He was sitting on the closed toilet seat lid, the bathroom still warm from his shower. He was pretty beaten up, but no way in hell was he going to tell (Y|N) how much, not with the mood she was in already. She’d insisted on making sure it was his skin that had been damaged and not his “thick skull.”

    During his shower, he’d had a little time to think things over about (Y|N), Laura and Benny. It had been a long time to hold a grudge. He didn’t want Laura. He didn’t even care that Benny had married her and had his old job. He liked where he was, the person he was, and the company he kept. He couldn’t imagine having to spend the last fifteen years with Laura. He just wished he’d asked out (Y|N) when he first saw her.

    “This is the ‘stupid’ Missouri was talking about, isn’t it?” she stuck the Band-Aid to his head with a pat.

    “I saw you take off,” his hands went to the soft fabric at her hips. “I wasn’t sure you were staying.”

    “I didn’t want to see that bear of a man take you out.”

    “Benny’s a teddy bear though,” he pulled her hips and she grudgingly took a small step forward. “But you were there as soon as I opened my eyes.”

    “Just making sure you weren’t dead,” she put her hand on his shoulder.

    Her fingers, gentle now, grazed the bandage, then ran through his hair, coming to a rest on the side, her thumb stroking his cheek bone. He tipped his head slightly, into her touch, her hand warm and steady. It had been a long time since someone cared enough about him to get so mad at him, and that kiss…

    “Look, I know this is all for show…”

    You stepped back from him with a push. You were sure you’d misheard him, but the look on his face said otherwise. Guess it’s time for a three-peat.

    “Oh, now I get it!” you were angry. “Your ‘stupid’ has layers!”

    Your words hit their mark. Dean’s face matched your anger.

    “What?” he stood.

    “Do you see anyone else in here?” you stretched your arms wide in the small bathroom. “Who am I putting on a show for? I care about you no matter what happens at the end of this.”

    “I don’t want this to end!” he yelled back.

    “Well, neither do I!”

    In one long stride, he closed the space between you, gathered you to his body and finished the kiss he’d started with you out on the pond. His strong arms held you firmly to him. He’d grabbed you with such force, you had to hold onto him. It felt so good to have so little fabric between you. His body was still hot from the shower and he smelled wonderful.

    When you parted, he left you breathless and the light hurt when you opened your eyes. Dean reached for the switch and flipped off the light, not letting go his hold of you.

    “So, are we doing this for real?” he asked.

    “Dean, every moment I’ve had with you has been real. I want you in every meaning of the phrase,” you said.

    “I want you, too,” he said, the lust making his voice sound deeper. “And not just…” he groaned softly as you shifted your hips against him, “…oh hell, you know what I mean.”

    He surprised you by sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you to his bed.

[the--blackdahlia]

Natural Born Killers Chapter 9 (Sam x Dean)

Title: Natural Born Killers Chapter 9

Summary:  It started as an accident. That’s what it was. But things escalated from there and now the law wants Dean Winchester, one way or another.

Warnings: Language, violence, character death

AN: Thank you for all the love and support for this fic!

Present

“Tell me more about Jessica Moore.” Victor said, wiping the grease off his hands from the pizza.

“What about her?” Sam asked, throwing a piece of pepperoni in his mouth.

“Well, she was your girlfriend, right?” Victor asked. Sam shook his head. “You were listed on her “in case of emergency” contacts.”

“Doesn’t mean we were dating.” Sam said. “Jess was like a sister to me. She was dating my best friend.”

“Right. Right.” Victor said.

****

2004

“Strike out again?” Sam asked Brady as he flopped down at the lunch table with him. A few days a week, Sam stayed on campus most of the day, instead of wasting time going home for an hour or two. He was only a few minutes from the house, but once he got there, he didn’t really want to leave.

“Unfortunately.” Brady sighed. “Is it me? Am I coming on too strong?”

“Maybe it’s the cologne.” Sam said, waving a hand under his nose. Brady was about to say something with a blonde girl approached the table.

“Hey Sam. Can I sit here?” She asked. Sam smiled.

“Of course Jess. Take a seat.” Sam pushed out a chair for her. “Jess, have you ever met Brady?” Sam asked. Jessica looked at Brady and smiled.

“Hi. I think you’re in my Advanced Chemistry class.” Brady smiled at her.

“Yeah, I think so. Nursing, right?” He asked. She nodded and Sam sat back as the two made small talk. They didn’t even seem to notice when he slipped out to go to his last class for the week. He couldn’t help but smile at his two friends getting along.

****

“De? You home?” Sam asked as he came in, dropping his backpack on the couch and making his way to the kitchen for a bottle of water. He could hear Led Zeppelin playing in the garage. Making his way out, he found Dean in the garage, doing some tune ups to Baby. “Hey honey.”

“Hi baby boy.” Dean said, grabbing a shop rag and wiping his hands. Sam knew he was stressed by something. This was the third tune up Baby had gotten in two weeks.

They made small talk for awhile before Sam suggested going to San Jose for the night. Dean knew what Sam was doing, and fuck, he appreciated it so much. He hadn’t killed in months. And even those were of a supernatural nature. People around here were pretty good about not hitting on a married man, so Dean really didn’t have a need to do anything.

But they went to San Jose, and Dean unwound by killing a couple that were out for a date night. Sam waited in the car and when Dean came back, Sam kissed him deeply. Dean loved the reactions he got from Sam after a kill well done.

****

2005

Jessica and Brady had been dating over over a year. After Sam had introduced them, they started talking, and talking turned into dinner, and a year later, they were moved in together and talking about marriage. It was a couple days after Halloween and the campus was abuzz with the thought of a long weekend coming up in the form of Thanksgiving. Sam and Dean hadn’t really done a big Thanksgiving with family or anything. They did have a small one with some friends the evening before, but that was about it.

“I’m going over to Jess and Brady’s.” Sam told Dean. “It’s movie night.”

“Ah, that’s right.” Dean laughed. “Jess and Brady and their third wheel.”

“Am not.” Sam said. “Plus, Brady was our third wheel for like three years.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “So glad he has Jessica to annoy now.”

“Well, I’m going to head over there. It’s nice out.” Sam told Dean, giving him a kiss. “I’ll give you a call when I’m ready to head back.”

“Okay baby boy. Be safe.” Sam smiled and headed out the door.

Brady and Jess had gotten themselves a place in Old Palo Alto, which was catercorner for Midtown. Dean and Sam had been over quite a few times for movies, usually Sam since Dean had to work but he was always invited. Or Brady and Jess would come over to their place for beer and barbecue. Dean couldn’t believe how their lives had changed; from hunting witches and ghouls to having couples dates and a job and house. It was all a little surreal and Dean was just waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under them.

Sam made the walk over towards their place in Old Palo Alto. Sam had a key to their place, and most of the time, unless he was given notice, Sam was invited to come right on in. They had a system of placing something in their wreath on the door if Sam needed to knock before entering. But there was nothing on the wreath, so Sam made his way right in.

“Brady? Jess?” Sam called out as he walked in. The lights were dimmed in the living room, but most of the room was lit up by the blue screen from the TV. There was a stack of Blockbuster movies laying on the table by the couch; Anchorman, Dodgeball, White Chicks, and Friday Night Lights. Sam could smell popcorn in the kitchen, and sure enough, a bowl was sitting on the counter. Sam snagged a few pieces.

“Hello? Guys?” Sam asked as he made his way towards their bedroom. He could hear the radio playing. Jess always kept a radio playing on low in the bathroom. He knocked on their bedroom door and it opened, like it wasn’t latched. Sam peered in, expecting to be scarred for life, but saw nothing. He carefully stepped in and scanned the room. Everything seemed in place.

Until he felt something drip on him. Once, twice…

Sam looked up, expecting to see water damage or something. But instead, he saw Jessica, suspended to the ceiling with blood on her stomach.

“No!” Sam screamed. “No! Jess!”

That’s that’s when the apartment caught on fire.

****

Dean was out in the garage, changing Baby’s oil and making sure her fluids were all kept up. A couple Christmas’s ago, Sam had gotten Dean the ultimate stereo. It didn’t have a place for CD’s, but it did have a turntable, a cassette deck, and even a spot for 8 tracks, as well as the radio. He was currently listening to ELO on vinyl, humming along to Mr. Blue Sky. That’s when the the police scanner that Dean kept (old habits die hard), chirped to life.

“Fire and EMT requested to the Old Palo Alto neighborhood.” He heard. His head looked up at the scanner. And when he heard the address that was listed off, he was up and getting into Baby before he even realized it. He didn’t care that the house was unlocked or anything like that. All he cared was that the address of Jess and Brady’s place had just come across the scanner.

He didn’t really remember much of the drive from their house to Old Palo Alto. He pulled his car to a stop by a crowd of people who were watching as the firefighters worked to put out the blaze. He jumped out of his car and ran towards the house.

“Sammy!” Dean screamed. “Sammy!”

“Sir, you can’t go in there.” A police woman said, stopping Dean from crossing the barricade.

“My husband was there with friends!” Dean said, ready to just push his way through.

“Sir, I think he’s over there.” She said gently, pointing to an ambulance. Dean couldn’t see anything but a body bag laying on a gurney.

“N-no.” Dean said, feeling the tears filling up in his eyes. He slowly made his way over to the gurney, his whole body feeling like Jello. That’s when he saw Sam sitting in the back of the ambulance, with a blanket wrapped around him and an oxygen mask over his face. “Sammy!”

“De?” Sam asked, looking over at Dean. There was soot on him, and he reeked of smoke. Dean pulled himself into the ambulance and wrapped his arms around Sam, holding him close.

“What happened?” Dean asked.

“I walked in and suddenly, it was on fire.” Sam said, tears falling down his face. Dean could tell there was something Sam wasn’t saying, probably due to the young EMT sitting there, watching his vitals.

“Can I take him home?” Dean asked. “Or does he have to go to the hospital?”

“We can’t make him go to the hospital, but we strongly encourage it.” The EMT explained. “Smoke inhalation.”

“I feel fine.” Sam said. “I just want to go home.” Dean nodded and kissed the top of his head. He didn’t smell like his shampoo. He smelled highly of smoke.

“I want to go home.” Sam said, his voice so small. Dean nodded and got him up. Sam took the oxygen mask off and handed it to the EMT. He had already given his statement to police about what had happened. He wasn’t sure if they believed him, but it was the truth. He walked in, there was fire. Of course, he failed to mention that Jessica had been suspended to the ceiling. Dena led Sam back to the car, getting him safe and sound. He got them home in record time, hitting every light just right and such. Sam didn’t talk the whole way.

“Come on baby boy. I got ya.” Dean said, leading him to the bathroom and carefully undressing him. “Let’s get you in the shower. I’ll even join you.” Sam just nodded. Dean quickly stripped out of his clothes and got Sam into the shower. Over their four years in the house, they had remodeled, painted, and done various other things to the house. Including the bathroom. It was a relaxing spot, and the shower was amazing. After years of crappy motel showers and baths, they needed this for themselves.

“I’m going to wash your hair, okay?” Dean asked. Sam nodded. Dean grabbed the shampoo that Sam always liked and started to work some of it into his hair, hoping that it would help get rid of the smoke smell. Sam closed his eyes as Dean massaged his scalp, enjoying the relaxing feeling. He led him under the spray and washed the soap off before grabbing his body wash to work on cleaning the signs of the fire off his body.

Dean was gentle, like he always was with Sam. This was a side he reserved only for him. No one else really got to see it, unless they saw Dean interacting with his Sammy. And Sam really appreciated it. Growing up, there was so much bad stuff in their lives; monsters around every corner. He needed this to calm him down.

“Thank you.” Sam whispered when Dean had finished washing him off and gotten him out of the shower. He had dried Sam and sat him on the closed toilet to go grab him some clean clothes. He wasn’t sure if Sam would ever want to wear his other ones again or not. Not that he blamed him.

“That’s my job right?” Dean said with a smile, pushing Sam’s wet hair out of his face. “Gotta watch out for my boy.” The smallest smile was on Sam’s face then. It didn’t last long though. But Dean was glad for any progress.

“Let’s get you to bed baby boy.” Dean said after they got Sam dressed. He led him to their bedroom and laid him down on their bed, getting one of the fluffy throw blankets that Sam had bought on a whim at Khols. He wrapped it around Sam and sat beside him.

“She was on the ceiling.” Sam said after a few moments of silence. Dean looked over at him. “Jess. She was on the ceiling. Just like…” Tears were falling down his face. Dean pulled him to him, holding him close.

“I’m going to find that fucking demon and I’m going to kill him.” Dean told Sam. He knew it was a demon. That was what John had told them growing up. He wiped the tears from Sam’s face. “I’m going to go grab some water and some other things so we have them right here with us. I’ll be right back, okay?” Sam nodded, curling into the blanket. Dean left, heading to the kitchen.

“Hello Sam.” A voice said. Sam’s head popped up. He saw Brady standing there by the window.

“Brady?” Sam asked. “How did you get in here? Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Brady laughed. “But you need to come with me?”

“What? Why?” Sam asked.

“You know why.” Brady said. “Those dreams you had that you didn’t tell Dean about. About Jessica burning on the ceiling. That vision you had of the test and you knew the answers before you went in. You’re special Sam.”

“I don’t understand.” Sam said, staring at Brady. Brady walked closer, a dark smile on his face.

“You were born special Sam. Your kind is a very rare kind. You’re wanted. I am supposed to bring you to my boss.” Brady laughed. Dean came in then, carrying some water and a box of Zebra cakes.

“Hey Sammy I… holy shit!” He dropped everything he was holding and grabbed his gun he kept close by the bed. The room had a hint of sulfur smell in it.

“Easy Dean. Guns aren’t necessary.” Brady said. “I’m just taking your husband here, or should I say brother.” He laughed. “That’s nasty, even by my standards.” He blinked then, his eyes black. A smile curled on his face.

“Shit!” Sam said, jumping up and going to stand by Dean.

“Sam. Dean. The things you two have gotten up to.” Brady laughed, watching them. “The people you have killed. You’re no better than me it seems.” Dean glared him down. “But Azazel, he doesn’t want me to hurt Sam. Physically at least. But Dean is fair game. Just like Jessica was.”

“You...you killed Jess?” Sam asked. Brady smiled.

“Brady here was really in love with her. Madly in love. But she walked in on things she wasn’t supposed to see. So, of course she had to die. Just like your mommy.” Dean had enough then and fired at Brady, hitting him a couple times in the chest. Brady just laughed.

“Apparently you didn’t get to demons in your fighting the supernatural class. You boys have a lot to learn.” He smiled at Sam. “I’ll see you later Sammy.” With that, black smoke shot out of Brady’s mouth, going out the window. He fell to the ground, coughing and gasping.

“Brady!” Sam said, running to him. Tears were falling down Brady’s face as Sam knelt by him.

“S-Sam.” He cried out. “I...I killed…”

“You didn’t. You didn’t.” Sam said. Brady grabbed Sam’s hand with his shaking one.

“I don’t want to die.” He whispered before his eyes fell closed and his hand went lax in Sam’s. Sam looked back at Dean, tears in his eyes. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to be safe here.

“Sammy,” Dean said, getting Sam’s attention. “Pack some stuff. Whatever we can comfortably fit into Baby. I’m going to take care of Brady’s body.”

“Dean…”

“We can’t stay. It’s not safe.” Dean told him. “I’m so sorry Sam. I didn’t want this for you baby boy.” He brushed back Sam’s hair. Life on the road, that’s what they were doomed to it seemed. Sam nodded and left to get their old duffle bags. Dean took Brady’s body out away from Palo Alto, to someplace with high crime, where it wouldn’t surprise anyone that a murder had happened.

When he got home, he found Sam standing in the kitchen, staring out the window. They could stay, but that demon knew exactly where they were. And there was always the chance that the police would decide to pin the fire on Sam, and possibly Brady’s murder. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and rested his head on his shoulder.

“I will make this up to you.” Dean whispered.

And just like that, the Winchester’s disappeared into the night, leaving behind a house full of things that they couldn’t take with them.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @we-ride-with-the-tide @dekahg @marvel-af @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @strab0 @sandlee44

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @supernaturalwincestsblog @flamencodiva @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories

Natural Born Killers Tags: @mysteriousharmony @webcraft4eveh @mereka18 @writinginthesecrettrees

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Bruises

Summary: Sonny’s always bruised easily.

WC: 4409

Warnings: Semi-graphic sexual assault, violence, blood, major character death

Read on AO3 // Beta: @rafaelscarisi

Sonny has always bruised easily. All it takes is bumping into the desk on the way by or shoulder-checking someone on the street by accident, and a purple mark blooms from the point of contact. It’s somewhat of a joke in the squad, especially after he got a black eye from walking into the break room door frame. He laughs along. Even when Amanda whistles because there are faint pink marks from kissing on his neck the day after a date.

Right now, he knows he’s going to have bruises.

He can’t see the man’s face because of the way he’s pressed face down on the floor of a public restroom, but he can feel the tight grip on his wrists holding his arms down and the angry pressure of knees holding his legs open. Despite knowing exactly what to do in a situation like this, he can’t do anything  except freeze and watch the slanted reflections of fluorescent lights on the grubby ceramic tile. He can feel a vague pain in the back of his mind, but mostly he’s numb; it’s  easier  to block out the feel of the cold tile against his bare stomach where his henley has been shoved up, or the pain of the awkward position he has been forced into, or the other things he can’t bring himself to think about.

And after it’s over, a hand tangles in his hair and yanks his head up.

“I’ll be back.”

Then he’s alone, and he doesn’t know when he started crying but now he can’t stop, and there’s a faint ache in his whole body and the ghost of nausea in his stomach. Sonny struggles to his feet, fixing his clothes and stumbling out of the bathroom. He needs to go home. No one notices him stumbling out of the restroom of Forlini’s, a place that’s supposed to be more classy. It’s a gathering spot for the squad at the end of a rough shift or the conclusion of a grueling trial. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, looks down, and walks outside so he can hail a cab home.

As soon as he walks in his front door, he goes straight to the bathroom to scrub away the grime. When he sees his reflection, he can see the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek from where it  hit against the tiles when he was forced down. Bile rising in the back of his throat, he turns away from the mirror and steps into the warm shower like it’ll wash everything away. He tries not to look at the marks he knows are all over him because it’ll hurt. Once he’s clean, he dries off, throws on a hoodie and sweatpants, and passes out on his bedroom floor with his arms wrapped around himself.

The next morning, when Sonny gets up and gets dressed for work, he realizes how awful he looks. His skin is pale and clammy,  with circles under his eyes and bruises on his wrists, legs, face, and the curves of his hip bones where they were slammed against the floor as well. Dark purples blossoming in violets and irritated reds make him wince before he pulls on his clothes to cover them  up. Buttoned vest, rolled down sleeves, clean coat. The only thing visible is his face, and once he drinks some water and fixes his hair, he promises himself it isn’t that noticeable. He’ll be fine to go to work and no one has to know how he froze.

He tells victims every day it’s not their fault if they’re assaulted. It’s not their fault if they freeze. It’s not their fault. But this feels like his, and even if he wanted to report, it’s too late now because the first thing he did when he came home was scrub away the evidence. He’ll be fine, he just has to carry on like nothing’s wrong. He pretends his hands don’t shake when he gets his gun out of his safe and holsters it at his hip. He picks up his phone and orders an Uber so he doesn’t have to walk to work. The very idea of being alone on the streets, even in broad daylight, feels like too much.

“I’m fine,” he says to his empty apartment.

The walls stare back with heavy judgement.

But he still goes outside and waits for his Uber, climbing in upon its arrival and giving directions to the precinct. Nothing can happen to him in there, surrounded by cops. An unhelpful voice reminds him that he’s also a cop and that didn’t keep anything from happening. He has more faith in his squad than himself, though, and he relaxes the moment he walks into the bullpen. Everyone’s there: Rollins, Fin, Benson, and even Stone. There must’ve been a break in the current case with their serial.

Rollins raises her eyebrows at him as he approaches. “What happened to you, Carisi?”

He raises a hand to his cheek without thinking and pretends it doesn’t hurt to touch. The longer he stays silent, the more suspicious she gets and the more attention the squad pays. It’s stupid to lie. This is an elite detective squad who he’s seen figure out things which seem impossible to everyone else. No matter what he says, they’ll figure it out eventually. He lies anyway.

“Slipped in the shower and hit my face on the tub. So, what’re we looking at here?”

The look Rollins gives him says she’s not letting this go, but he ignores her and focuses on the case at hand.

A few weeks go by and the bruises heal, but the rest of Sonny is left scarred. He’s still jumpy and anxious and afraid to return to Forlini’s, but he thinks he’s fine. All things considered, he’s fine. Being fine is easier than being a victim for the squad to pity with their soft voices and kid gloves. He could still report it if he wanted to, it’s never too late, but something stops him. Maybe it’s pride. Maybe shame. Maybe something else. The point is that it doesn’t stop nagging at him constantly.

He winds up in a new bar, nursing a beer and keeping a wary eye on the patrons. It feels weird to be drinking somewhere other than Forlini’s, almost like he’s cheating. It’s  ridiculous, but he still thinks about it while he’s there. He has no companionship here either. The entire squad is at the last place Sonny wants to go, having fun without him like they so often do. He’s always been somewhat of an outsider to the tight-knit group.

“Didn’t see you in your favorite seat,” a chilling voice says in Sonny’s ear.

It’s the  same voice from last time. Sonny stands up and tries to leave, only for the same hands that’ve haunted his nightmares to close around his forearms and drag him out of the bar, into a sedan with a narrow backseat. Not again. Not again. He starts to scream but he’s shoved face down into  the seat in a way that gives him a slight but painful rugburn. That’ll show tomorrow. He tries to say ‘no’ and ‘stop,’ but he gets nothing. Nothing but cold fingers ripping off his slacks and forcing his legs apart with his arms trapped beneath his own chest. He begs, pleads, does everything he can but he doesn’t have the leverage even though he’s not frozen uselessly this time. This is worse, because he’s a trained police officer- detective- and he still can’t do anything to protect himself. At least he doesn’t cry this time.

After it’s over, the man gets out of the backseat and shuts the door. Sonny struggles to get his hands out from under him, but not before the driver’s door opens and the man climbs into the seat. “Stay fuckin’ put,” he says, and starts the car. It would be stupid to try and get out of a moving car, and he doesn’t know if there are any weapons. Plus, Sonny doesn’t have his gun either. He’s defenseless.

The ride is painfully silent but mercifully short. They can’t have gone far, and he still has his phone so he can be tracked. As suddenly as it started, the car stops and the driver gets out to haul Sonny out of the backseat and drag him towards a building. With a sinking feeling, Sonny realizes he recognizes it. This is his apartment building, and he’s being taken up to his own apartment. He thinks he’s going to be sick. Somehow this man knows where Sonny lives, and when they get to the front door, he pulls a keyring out of his pocket and opens the door like he’s done it a million times. He has a key to Sonny’s apartment.

Moments before leaving, he grabs Sonny’s chin and examines the rug burn marring his face. “You mark easy.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Sonny in the doorway to lock himself in, not that it’ll help. This is the second time, and he let it happen. He’s weak. Stupid. Sonny crawls to his room and pulls his gun out of the safe just to hold it and feel more protected. Anyone comes through the door, he’s going to shoot. He won’t be a victim again.

But his promise is an empty one.

Over the next three months, it happens again and again and again and again and again. The squad have noticed the way he has perpetual bags  under his eyes, the ever-shifting rotation of bruises, his jumpiness. Every time they ask, he brushes them off. None of them believe him though, least of all Amanda. She presses him more every time he shows up to work with a black eye or a ring of bruises around his wrists when he rolls up his sleeves. Sonny gets this feeling  something bad is about to happen the moment he starts changing things up, like it’ll make a difference when the still nameless man knows where he lives.

“Hey, Rollins,” he asks, putting the lid on his coffee while she eats her lunch. “I was thinkin’ I haven’t seen my goddaughter in a while. You got plans tonight?”

“No. Everything okay?”

She knows something’s up. Still, he keeps lying. “Yeah, yeah, just realized I haven’t been around lately. I’ll make you some dinner, watch some shitty reality TV…” he laughs, but it’s fake even to his own ears. While he’s wary of putting her and Jesse in danger, he thinks he’ll feel safer with her.

“Sure- we’ll have to run to the store first though.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Both of them get back to work, running through the day that blurs with all the ones before it, precisely how time seems to nowadays. He’s in the grocery store with her before he knows it, trying to decide which type of pasta he feels like. Although she’s quiet, he can see her watching him out of the corner of his eye, waiting to say something about the scrape running up his forearm from the rough brick wall of the building on one side of an alley he was forced into. Just the thought makes his heart speed up with panic.

“Are we gonna talk about this, Dominick?” she says finally.

Penne or angel hair? Penne is easier for Jesse to pick up with her little plastic fork.

“Talk about what?”

Rollins grabs his wrist and he flinches. She raises her eyebrows at the movement before pointing at the bruise and saying, “I know you’re clumsy, but this is excessive. If someone’s hurting you, you know we have your back. I have your back.”

“No one’s hurting me,” he says.

“The longer you let it happen, the worse it’s going to get. DV always escalates, you know that.”

“There’s no DV.”

She lets it go for now, but she watches him closely all night. He doesn’t like feeling watched, analyzed, and he isn’t sure if being treated like a puzzle is worse than being treated like a victim. Jesse’s too young to sense the tension, thankfully, but old enough to see that Sonny is tired and plop herself into his lap to promptly fall asleep. She makes him feel safe, is the odd thing. This blonde little girl makes him feel less alone. Alone is a dangerous thing, an emotion that does nothing to help him when the world has grown too dangerous.

“You know it’s late, you can stay the night.”

A glance at the clock confirms it’s almost eleven. “You’re right. But, um, I gotta- I should head home, I’ve been here long enough,” he says, standing up and handing a sleeping Jesse off to Rollins. She looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t, and he leaves calmly.

Once he’s out the door, he’s scared out of his mind. Every single shadow is his attacker ready to grab him again and pin him facedown to be forced again. The sound of his own footsteps echo like a second pair following him everywhere he goes. He rests his hand at his hip where his gun waits, still loaded because he hasn’t gone home yet. Anyone messes with him, he’ll shoot. Just like the second time it happened when he went straight for his weapon when he had the chance. Every time he has been hurt, he hasn't had his gun. He’ll have to start carrying it on him at this rate. This has to come to an end at some point. Countless times, repetitive and more painful with each assault. Escalating, like Rollins said.

Sonny’s tired to his very bones when he gets home, hands away from his gun now to unblock the door. He’s grabbed by the throat the second he’s inside, slammed against the suddenly closed door. He scrabbles at the hand around his neck before reaching for his gun again. In response his hand is caught and squeezed in an agonizing grip until he cries out. Just like that, his gun is ripped away and tossed somewhere he can’t reach it.

“You think you’re fuckin’ cute, going over to that bitch’s house?”

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes.

“You will be. I’ll make sure of that.”

He tries to keep fighting back because he needs this to be over. Whether he fends the man off or gets himself killed, at least it’ll finally stop. He does his best, even held against the door while the man’s free hand attacks whatever he can reach on Sonny’s body before throwing him to the floor and climbing on top of him. That’s when all the fight drains out of him. He goes lax on the carpet and stares at the braided fibers. He doesn’t feel anything anymore.

The next morning, when he comes back to himself to the sound of his alarm, he’s still lying on the floor with his slacks around his ankles and blood dried on his face. He doesn’t need to look in a mirror to know he looks terrible, but he still drags himself up to see the damage before a shower. And Sonny thinks he knows what to expect until he sees what he really looks like in his reflection. His nose is swollen with dried blood beneath it and dripping from the corner of his mouth. There’s a dark purple, very obvious handprint on his neck that dips down past the collar of his half-buttoned shirt. Maybe he can wear a scarf to hide it? But he can’t do anything about his face or the limping gait of his wobbly legs.

While he showers, he imagines calling off work for a day or two to recover. Wait until the bruises fade at least a little, and he feels less like he might collapse at any moment. His uneasy sleep on the floor brewed from blacking out of trauma didn’t get him any rest to rectify the bags under his eyes. He needs more sleep, not that it would come even if he has the chance. Sonny turns off the cold water that never warmed up and dries off to throw on a suit, coat, and scarf. It’s only fifty degrees out, not cool enough to justify the scarf, but he’ll make something up.

Sonny makes sure his gun is loaded and ready to go before he leaves the house, hailing a cab because he doesn’t have the energy to put in for an Uber right now and the idea of walking is painful. His thoughts remind him it isn’t too late to call out before he quiets them. The gross cab distracts him with thoughts of the questionable stains the whole way, but once he drops the cash in the cabbie’s hand and gets out, he’s on his own again. No doubt the second he goes in, he’ll be barraged with questions by Rollins and whoever else happens to be nearby. This is the special victims unit, they’re going to notice and talk to him like a toddler and he just can’t handle that.

Of course Rollins catches him getting onto the elevator as she jogs in and asks him to hold it for her. He does. There’s no point prolonging the inevitable.

“Morning, Carisi- what the hell happened to your face?”

He pointedly doesn’t look at her. “I tripped going up the stairs last night, I was really tired.”

“You didn’t take the elevator to your eighth floor apartment?”

“It was broken.”

They’re on the floor below the bullpen. Just one more to go and then he can go bury himself in his work. Almost there, almost- but Rollins finally loses her patience. “Cut the crap!” He flinches and puts his arm up when she yells and moves suddenly, which doesn’t help his case. “All of a sudden, you’re showing up to work hurt all the damn time, and you mope around like a kicked puppy, and now you look like you got the hell beat out of you, Carisi!” The doors ding open and they both walk out, but she isn’t finished yet. “If you can’t trust me, for some reason, that’s fine, but I can’t sit here and not-”

“Is everything alright, detectives?” Benson asks, approaching with her eyes on the file in her hand.

“Do me a favor and look at Carisi,” Rollins says.

Silently, Sonny begs her not to. She doesn’t listen, however, and her eyes widen at the sight of him. He knows he looks bad, but not so much to get a speechless reaction from the woman who always knows what to say. He’s always admired that about her.

“He said that he fell going up the stairs last night.”

The lieutenant’s eyes fall to his neck and he self-consciously adjusts his scarf, realizing too late how it had fallen low enough to expose the top of the bruise there. “Carisi, take off your scarf.”

“I’m- I- actually, I’m kinda cold, I can’t- I-”

“Carisi,” she says in her tone that leaves no room for argument.

He internally braces himself and unwinds it, revealing the bruised handprint spanning his throat like a necklace. Both Rollins and Benson inhale sharply before he covers it up again to make it feel less real. They usher him into the soft interview room, exactly like he worried they would. Sonny doesn’t want their pity. Benson gets her notepad, but Rollins just brings him a hot coffee with the exact amount of sugar and creamer he likes because she pays attention to small things like that. Really, he’s surprised it took so long to get here even if it’s the last place he’d ever want to be.

“You started coming to work with bruises what, three months ago? Four?” Rollins asks gently.

Sonny clears his throat and says, “Three and a half.”

The scratch of a pen denotes Benson writing it down. Everything he says will be, he thinks as he checks his hip for his gun; he can protect himself now. Even if it never helped him before.

“Has it been escalating?”

“I…” Yes, it has, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. “I guess so. Last night was- he was angry I wasn’t where he thought I should be.”

That’s scribbled on the pad too. He thinks he might be sick if they make him recount it.

“So why don’t you tell me about last night, Dominick?”

Using his first name is what makes him crack. “Don’t talk to me like a battered victim. I hate that.”

He watches Rollins and Benson share a long look, talking silently about him and excluding him from their conversation. It doesn’t put him at ease at all. This is more nerve-wracking than he expected, and given that he knows he’s being watched by his repeated attacker, it wouldn’t shock him to see the man burst through the door of this interview room to hurt him again. He finds himself staring at the door and clenching his fists so hard beneath the table his knuckles go white.

“Sonny? You still with us?”

Sonny instead of Dominick. Rollins is really pulling out the stops on this one.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

She offers him a comforting smile that probably works on every victim who’s not him. “You can tell us what happened, you’re safe now.”

“I, uh, I came home from Rollins’ apartment kinda late last night. He was- he was waiting for me. I walked in the door and he grabbed my neck and pushed me against the wall. I tried- I tried- I tried to get my gun but he stopped me and threw it to the side. And I tried to fight back but he got mad, kept hittin’ me over and over and over and then he threw me on the ground, ripped my pants off and…”

He can’t make himself say it. His mouth is dry and his hands are cold and his eyes are stinging with tears. All he can think about is the knowledge it’s going to happen again and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

“He knows where I live. The second time, he- he drove me home after. He had a key to my apartment. He’s been following me and he always shows up when I don’t have my gun but last night, I didn’t come home on time and… that’s why he was so angry.”

“Has he assaulted you before, Sonny?” Benson asks.

This is the hard part. Admitting  it happened to him multiple times because he’s too weak to protect himself. How does he say that most of the time, he completely froze and couldn’t fight back.

“At least every couple weeks for the last three and a half months, when the bruises started. He’d come find me wherever I was. The first time was in- was in the Forlini’s bathroom. The next was in the backseat of his car. Then it was my apartment, and then an alleyway, and then- I can’t- he did it so many times, and I couldn’t do anything.”

“Can you tell us who he is?”

Sonny shakes his head. “I don’t know his name. He’s, um, a couple inches taller than me. White guy with brown hair, brown eyes. Wears layers, I think- I think he works blue collar. He has callouses on his hands.”

“Anything else?” Benson asks. “Maybe tattoos, or birthmarks, or scars?”

He shakes his head again and wraps his arms around himself like it’ll make him feel safer. Every part of his body aches but he’s gotten good at ignoring it over time. Practice makes perfect. All this time spent hiding it, he’s used to pretending nothing is wrong even when it is, when it’s killing him slowly. Something moves in the corner of his vision and he looks up to see Rollins offering him tissues. He didn’t realize he was crying. He takes it from her with a grateful nod and dries his face.

“Why don’t you go splash some cold water on your face, and then I’ll have Rollins take you to the hospital to get checked out?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, standing up and crumpling the tissue in his face. It’ll be good to have a chance to try and put himself back together before the humiliating procedures he knows he’ll be subjected to in the ER. Behind him, he hears Rollins and Benson talking too quietly for him to make out the words. He doesn’t bother putting his scarf back on just to go wash his face in the bathroom, now that everyone knows what he couldn’t manage to fight off. What he let happen to him.

In his peripheral vision he sees someone following him but brushes it off as his anxiety getting the better of him yet again. He’s safe in the precinct, even if he isn’t anywhere else. Sonny pushes open the bathroom door, finding it thankfully empty, and turns on the sink. Maybe this will be over. He knows how hard the rest of the squad work to protect victims. As hard as it is to admit, he’s a victim. He’s weak.

The bathroom door opens again and he turns around. It’s him. Again. All noise dies in Sonny’s throat as he backs away.

“Please, no-”

“You think you can get away from me?”

His back hits the wall and those calloused hands are on him again and Sonny grabs his gun and fires. It only takes one shot, echoing in the tile bathroom and probably through the whole precinct as well. Sonny’s left shaking, pinned against the wall by a dead body that’s covering him in blood. First in the door is Fin, followed by a uni and then Benson.

“Carisi? Are you alright?”

He can’t answer. Someone pulls the body off of him and he drops his gun from his shaking hands. He just killed someone. There’s a dead body. He’s covered in blood. Christ, there’s so much blood. So much. It’s everywhere. He can’t wipe his face because it’s coating his hands. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. He can’t.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, Carisi. Deep breath.”

Rollins must’ve gotten here at some point because now she’s in front of him trying to get him to breathe in more than gasping bursts. His hands keep shaking and he can’t make them stop. The world is spinning. But everything is finished now. He’s finally safe.

Buy me a ko-fi if you enjoyed?

[starsscribble]

Warning Dangerous Person

Gabe warns Jesse to stay away from you but into in the way Jesse thinks.

Fandom: Overwatch

Character: Blackwatch Gabe and Jesse

Every time Jesse would think about asking you out on a date he would remember Gabriel’s warning. Normally Jesse wouldn’t care about the warnings his boss man gave him but the way he looked at Jesse and the tone sent a clear message to him. You were Gabe’s and you were off-limits. If his time in the Deadlock’s taught him anything is that you don’t mess with any man’s woman no matter how pretty she is. Jesse kept his distance from you, loving you from afar. It was your soul that he loved. In Blackwatch, you didn’t meet the kindest of people. The crazy Irish scientist and the former yakuza ninja popped into his mind. Yet here you were. Jesse often wonders why you picked this line of work. It wasn’t until he was on a mission did he saw how dangerous you were. You were a force to behold, a hurricane in human form. Honestly, even if Gabriel didn’t warn him Jesse probably won’t make a move on you; he felt unworthy of your love.

Jesse was sitting in Reyes’ office after a mission with the door burst up making both men look towards the area. Walking through the door was you, still in training clothes sweating with a water bottle in hand and a towel across your neck.

“Sup fuckers. Heard you just got back.” You said as you closed the door with your foot. Gabriel sighed as he picked the bridge of his nose.

“Y/N we talked about this. You need to knock.” You rolled your eyes and you took a seat beside Jesse and took a long drink of your water.

“Y/N seriously what are you doing here?” Gabriel said still annoyed by her entrance. Finishing her water she set the bottle on the table.

“Because I show how bad Genji was and came to check on the two of y-”

“We are fine.” Gabriel cut you off hoping with that answered you would leave him in peace.

“I’m not finished.” You stated as you looked at him and he looked at you.

“What else?” The boss man groaned out.

“You need to call your family.”

“I will. Later.” Gabe thought he would brush the topic under the rug as he waved his hand in the air. You were not allowing him to do that as your eyes narrowed at him.

“Gabriel Reyes you will call your family now.”

“I’m busy.” You stood up as Jesse watched the events unfold. You stood in front of his desk and glared at him. Jesse watched Gabriel if this was someone else he would have told them to mind their business but this was you. Gabriel sighed in defeat and pulled up out his cell phone.

“Fine. You win.” You smiled as you watched Gabriel bring the phone up to his ear, he quietly flipped you off as his call was picked up and he started to talk to his mother. You gestured Jesse to follow you out of the office. You chuckled lightly once the door was closed.

“He is going to be on the call for five hours.” You stated. “So cowboy,” you stopped turned on the heels of your feet and looked at him.

“Since you won’t make the first move I will. Let’s go on a date.” Jesse’s mouth hung out, you were with Gabriel why on earth were you asking him on a date. Maybe it was a test? Some sick test Gabriel put you up too?

“No sorry.”  He replied and quickly moved pashed you. You turned quickly and rushed in front of him. He tried to get past you but you wouldn’t let him.

“I know you like me. I like you. So what’s wrong? Why wo-”

“You're with Gabe!” You froze and stared at him in disgust and confusion. Why on earth did he think that? Gabe was like a brother to you. No way in hell could you ever love him like a boyfriend.

“Gabe is like my brother. Why do you think we are dating?” Now it was Jesse turn to look confused.

“He warned me to stay away from you. The way he sounded I thought.” Jesse now looked embarrassed as he explained his reason for not asking you out. Along with your laughing Jesse just wanted to hide in his room and not come out.

“Oh my god,” You spoke are were getting your air back. “God I’m going to murder that man.” You look back up at Jesse. “Gabriel is just protective over me because I spent a lot of time over at his house growing up.”

“Now I’m just embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. So how about that date? I know a place with a great bar.”

“Ya, I think I need a drink after this.”

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[gleekto]

Fic: Close Quarters

Summary: Blaine is visiting his friend,Tina, at Brown for the weekend, a reprieve from his new New York City home and the competitiveness of NYADA. He expected a fun reunion. He didn’t expect he’d be playing her boyfriend. Or that her roommate, Kurt, would uncover their ruse in the middle of the night. After tripping over him. Literally. Kurt of the long legs and designer jeans and sparkling eyes. Kurt of the sophomore year. Kurt who has a boyfriend. Kurt who is auditioning for NYADA?

But Blaine is a freshman. And hasn’t had a boyfriend. And you never get a second chance to make a first impression.

Based on this prompt.

Words: 4771

Note: I may or may not have left it open for a sequel...But I may need to be convinced...

Close Quarters

“How did you guys meet?” Tina’s new college friends asked the night Blaine arrived. That question was easy. High school.

��How are you guys managing the long distance?” Oh well, you know, we skype pretty often.

“Do you like New York?”  Love it. Lima just wasn’t big enough for me. Not enough people. I love the diversity. I love the theatre. I even love the noise. 

“So I guess Tina’s planning to move to New York then? I mean, long term?” Blaine purses his lips and turns to Tina.

“Oh for sure,” Tina smiles and grits her teeth. “We’ve got to figure it out, though. Right, Blaine?”

This is ridiculous.

On AO3

“I promise, I’ll tell them in the morning,” Tina sighs as she flops down on to her tiny dorm room bed. 

“You promise?” Blaine sits cross legged on his sleeping bag on the Ikea rug covering the grey linoleum floor. Why did she choose burnt orange anyways? “Because it’s getting a little awk-”

“Yes, it’s awkward. I know. I don’t know why I told them you were my boyfriend. It would just be cool, you know-”

“Tina,” Blaine looks up at the ceiling and repeats himself he hopes for the last time. “I can’t be that guy.” Blaine loves Tina. He always has. She’s smart and fun and they always kicked ass whenever they did French projects together last year. And they throw the best movie marathons for their friends - movie appropriate costume required. But she knows he’s gay. He told her that in a tearful conversation more than a year ago. He’s known since he was 14 and could only get through a required game of spin-the-bottle by imagining Rachel Berry was actually her boyfriend, Jesse St. James. Close your eyes and dream. Just because he hasn’t had a boyfriend yet, doesn’t mean he’s any less sure. It’s just that Lima, Ohio isn’t exactly New York City. The place where he actually lives now. And he’s ready to meet someone. Really.

“You’re sure, right? Because I feel like I can usually tell - Like with my roommate, Kurt. I could tell right away- He wears McQueen. And neck kerchiefs and - ”

“Tina,” Blaine rolls his eyes. “You know that those are stereotypes. Anyways, the fact that the school let him room with a girl is a flashing neon sign.”

“I guess.”

“Besides, I think I do a good job of pinging lots of people’s gaydar.” Blaine smiles conspiratorily and tugs on his pink and green bowtie. Blaine is proud of who he is and he’s a New York City boy now. Ready to meet someone if he hasn’t mentioned. “Though McQueen, that’s impressive,” Blaine imagines a perfectly dressed model-type sprawled on the bed across from Tina’s. The guy’s thick dark blue duvet with three throw pillows slightly rumpled. He clearly didn’t let the dorm room factor stop him. Whatever. He’s probably at his boyfriend’s place. “You’re lucky he’s not here this weekend,” Blaine muses out loud.

“Why?” 

“He would know.” Obviously.

“No way.”

“I’d put on my best clubbing outfit - my black sleeveless tank top with my red jeans? Do you think he’d notice?” 

Tina crosses her arms but she’s smiling underneath her scowl. “How could he not?”

Blaine nods. It’s easy to be confident in your imagination.

...

“Ow! What the-” Blaine startles out of his sleep and squints up at a tall well-dressed figure with reddish brown hair staring down at him. He sees shiny black combat boots that complete the outfit  - boots which presumably just kicked him in the side. Accidentally, he supposes.

“Oh my god, Tina! Is this your boyfriend?” A clearly irritated tall, pale, and handsome man has his arms crossed and looms above Blaine. “Why is he lying on the path to my bed instead of in yours? Is this like a fight or something?” Kurt. Who is also apparently home now, and not away for the weekend. Blaine looks at his phone - It’s 2am. He rubs his side where Kurt kicked him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Tina sits up and just shakes her head over and over.

“There was no sock on the door, it’s 2am, and it was quiet. So I assumed you were sleeping and it was safe for me to grab a fresh t-shirt. Though this wasn’t exactly the danger I was imagining,” Kurt shakes his head, exasperated. “So I guess I’m sorry?” 

“No, no, it’s okay. You couldn’t have known that-” Blaine pauses. This wasn’t exactly how Blaine imagined meeting Kurt, black tank top and red pants replaced by blue satin button down pajamas and a mop of sleepy head hair, but he doesn’t appear to have a choice. And he isn’t going to let Kurt take the blame for Tina’s ridiculous ruse.

“That what?” Kurt rolls his eyes at the ceiling, “You and Tina are either in a fight or are bizarrely prudish for long distance lovebirds in college. I didn’t take Tina for the ‘True Love Waits’ type.”

“Ughhhh,” Tina grumbles. 

“It’s okay, Tina,” Blaine stands and sits down on her bed, placing an arm around her. “You said you were going to tell them anyways.”

“Tell us?...” Kurt looks at Blaine looking apologetically at Tina. And he looks at Blaine’s navy blue satin button pajamas. And the laugh Blaine’s trying hard to bite back. “You’re not her boyfriend, are you?”

“No,” They say in unison.

“Told you he would know,” Blaine elbows Tina. 

“Know what?”

“That I’m gay.” 

“Designer pajamas a dead giveaway,” Kurt smiles at him. “That and the fact that you were sleeping on the floor.” Blaine smiles back. Tina doesn’t smile.

“Yes okay. I made it up so no one would get any ideas about setting me up with every Asian guy they’ve ever met,” Tina huffs.

“Oh hunny, I know,” Kurt nods. “Last year, it was every wannabe actor and hairdresser in town. That’s why I need to move to New York.”

Blaine’s eyebrows rise, “You’re moving to New York?” 

“Only if NYADA wants me as a mid-year sophomore,” Kurt sighs. Blaine is working hard to quiet his racing mind. And his wandering eyes. Did Tina know?

“I go to NYADA.”

“Blaine goes to NYADA,” He and Tina say at the same time. 

“You do?”

“And why didn’t you tell me that you’re leaving? What about Tom?” Tina clearly did not know. And a boyfriend? Figures.

“I’m not leaving yet. First they have to even let me audition and I can’t jinx it. Yes, well. Tom is Tom. My boyfriend - “ He looks at Blaine. “We’ll see.” Kurt purses his lips.

“Ouch.”

“Yes, well, it appears after three months of dating that not all gay wannabe actors have that much in common. He chooses clubbing over cooking and a movie every time.”  Blaine is pretty sure Kurt’s only looking at him now. 

“So you came back here tonight because you broke up?” Tina asks. 

“No. I’m going back to his place,” Kurt says flatly.” Just needed a fresh t-shirt. Love when he spills beer on me at Cruisers.” Kurt non-chalantly sheds his apparently beer stained tight black t-shirt and Blaine lets himself look at Kurt’s body, at least momentarily, before Kurt turns around to pull on an equally tight white one. Blaine does his best to keep his face neutral. Kurt is hot. He’d really like to meet someone. Preferably someone single. But at least his not-so-secret is out of Tina’s closet.

...

Blaine non-chalantly pulls the spare mattress into his teeny tiny dorm room. He folds his laundry and puts it away - he’s not a slob. Nothing to do with his guest arriving in a few hours. He moves the little rainbow flag from the corner of his desk into its rightful place of prominence at the centre. Well maybe a bit to do with it. He just wants to be clear that he’s out of the closet. Obviously. So Kurt can feel comfortable. 

When Kurt and Tina called him to ask if Kurt could stay with him for Kurt’s NYADA audition, he kept his cool. He didn’t jump up or fist pump the air or sound too eager to see Kurt again. He obviously didn’t think about what Kurt looked like with his shirt off. Heading back to his boyfriend’s. He just warned Kurt that the room was small but that he would get the spare mattress. And of course he could stay - New York City is expensive. 

His phone buzzes. “Kurt?” He has no idea how this is going to go.

...

“If it were up to me, I’d let you in with either of those,” Blaine says as they close the door to his room, teeth brushed, button down pajamas buttoned. “But rumour is that Tibideaux goes for naked emotion.” Kurt had performed both Not the Boy Next Door and Being Alive for him in the practice room. He’s a unique talent - countertenor voice, skilled acrobatics. And he’s pretty easy on the eyes too - though he doesn’t think Carmen Tibideaux is particularly looking for that. He doesn’t tell him that he felt like a school kid with a crush watching him dance through Not the Boy Next Door. Secretly swooning without worrying about making his object feel uncomfortable. He’s pretty sure Jesse St. James would not have appreciated knowing he was picturing him during the fated Spin the Bottle game. But during Being Alive, Kurt is transcendent. Raw and open. And he tells him so. Kurt blushes and curtsies which unfortunately leads to more secret swooning. Anyways, Kurt has an audition tomorrow and can’t get distracted. So Blaine can’t either.

“It’s the harder song but I’ve only got one chance, so I guess I’m going for it.” 

“What did Tina think?”

“I didn’t perform for her,” Kurt shrugs.

“Oh. Or what about your boyfriend? What’s his name again?” Tom. Of course he remembers.

“Tom? We broke up like a month ago. I think a week after you visited.”

“Oh I”m sorry-”

“Oh no. Don’t be. It was about time. Things can only go on so long when your love for Madonna is your strongest connection. But when he tried to get me to go out again instead of finishing my NYADA application, that was the straw.”

Blaine nods. He knows what it’s like to be singly focused on a dream. He skipped many a school dance in favour of acing his next test. Though dances weren’t all that much of a sacrifice with all the making out on the dance floor that he wasn’t doing. “Still I imagine break ups aren’t fun.”

Kurt laughs. “Not really. Especially when he dramatically took my toothbrush and threw it out the window. But like a week later, it was a relief. Mostly I miss the-” Kurt blushes, “You know.”

“Sex?” Blaine blushes too. Mostly because he doesn’t know. Though he can also imagine that.

“Yeah. He was hot.” Kurt laughs again and Blaine feels a tinge of jealousy. He’s not sure of whom. “In high school, I was the Carmel football team’s favorite punchline. And punching bag. It was definitely an awakening for me at Brown when I was a different kind of objectified.” Kurt looks at him.

“I know what you mean,” Blaine says. “Well, sort of. Mostly the football team ignored me. But I was not the object of anyone’s affection,” Blaine says. “Except Tina’s,” He clarifies. “Nothing ever happened though.”

“I figured.”

“Do I look that innocent?”

Kurt throws a pillow at him and lies down on his mattress. “No. You’re just still good friends. And usually that kind of stuff can make things awkward.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“So innocent.” Kurt sing songs and Blaine throws the pillow back and shuts off the light. 

“If you didn’t have a NYADA audition tomorrow, I’d take you clubbing. Put that idea to rest.”

“Too bad I have a NYADA audition.”

“You’re gonna kill it.”

“We’re both gay kids from Whereverville, Ohio, Blaine. I remember what it felt like to be green. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Blaine is quiet. Kurt is smart and talented and hot and single and in his room for the weekend. This baby brother thing has got to go. “I’m a New York boy now, Kurt.”

Kurt doesn’t respond. He’s already asleep.

...

The next night Blaine finds himself in front of the bouncer at Pride and Prejudice, newly minted fake id in hand. He feels slightly less ridiculous because Kurt still needs one too. Though his is substantially more worn. “Not bad. You could be 23,” Kurt peers over his shoulder as they walk in. 

“Years of high school in Lima can age a person.” Blaine says knocking Kurt in the side and he laughs. Kurt is in a great mood - NYADA audition over, vague praise from Madam Tibideaux which Blaine assures him is practically a Wonka golden ticket, and he had insisted that New York City celebrating was in order. And Pride and Prejudice was apparently the place to be on a Saturday night if you’re young and gay and in New York. He just hadn’t wanted to go by himself in his first month.

“Oh my god there are multiple dance floors,” Kurt is wide eyed and happy. “I can spend all night with the 80′s without any go go dancers trying to climb on top of me.” That didn’t actually sound so bad to Blaine but it was Kurt’s night and if he wanted Madonna, it would be the 80′s floor.

Within half an hour, they have a drink in hand and are chatting and bouncing to Cyndi Lauper.  But somehow an hour and two drinks later, Kurt is pressed up against a tall, blonde, and buff, probably football player, who keeps whispering in his ear. Kurt turns around and shrugs apologetically at Blaine, but the football player isn’t leaving and neither is Kurt. 

Blaine is finally in a gay bar with people his age and if Kurt is busy, well, he knows he can move. And flirt. Even if he was used to attracting the wrong sex in high school. Tina says he has unintentional game so tonight it will be intentional and he’s going to play.

Blaine puts down his drink and sheds his bowtie and short sleeved button down for the white ribbed tank top underneath as Michael Jackson’s Bad blares through the speakers. He walks past the people milling on the outside of the dance floor, past Kurt and football guy, into the middle of the crowd. The thing about being a musically talented, sexually frustrated, teenager is that your energy has to get channeled somewhere. And Blaine loves to dance. And a dance floor with other gay boys as a young adult is even better than being the centre of attention at a high school prom.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

A cute muscled tall dark and handsome that looks a bit like the bisexual Warlock from that sci-fi show is dancing in front of him. With him, he supposes. Until he turns around to a blonde babe with a five o’clock shadow. He lets him put his arms around him, helps him move to the beat. The warlock has better rhythm. He switches again. Now it’s Wham!  Everything She Wants. Is everything she sees. 

“Thought I’d lost you.” Blaine turns and Kurt is in front of him, football guy nowhere to be seen. 

“You looked busy,” Blaine smirks.

“So did you,” Kurt nods and Blaine shrugs non-chalantly, secretly thrilled that he seems to have shed the baby brother persona.

“Wham!,” Blaine says in response and steps into Kurt’s space. Kurt puts his palms on Blaine’s chest, fingertips grazing his sweaty skin and lets Blaine lead. Legs intertwined, beat thumping, Blaine’s hands travel down Kurt’s back. He lets them rest at the top of his ass. Almost that bold. Not quite. Kurt drops his head back and laughs, steps closer to Blaine. 

“I like dancing,” Kurt says.

“Me too.”

... 

They stumble into Blaine’s room at 3am, Blaine rushing to get out of sweaty clothes and to brush his beer breath away. But when he’s changed and back from the washroom, Kurt is asleep. Again.

...

“Do you want to go to brunch?” Blaine asks as the 11am sun wakes them both from their drunken slumber. “Coffee or greasy food seems in order.” Kurt can’t do it. He has a lunch meeting with a Professor for a possible internship to help pay the New York City bills. “Afternoon walk in Central Park? Show you the sites?” Blaine tries one more time. But Kurt has an appointment at the bursary office.

“So I’ll be back here later tonight?” Kurt’s last night. 

“Yeah sure,” Blaine smiles. An actor needs to be an expert at masking disappointment. 

 ...

It’s 7:43 pm when Blaine hears the click of his dorm room door. He was still hoping Kurt might be back in time to grab dinner with him, but he was hungry and not that desperate so he went with his friends to get subs at 6:30. Now he’s sitting at his desk chair, trying to finish his less than riveting transposition assignment. 

“Hey,” Kurt shuts the door, dropping his bag and jacket on his mattress, walking over to the desk. 

“Hey,” Blaine says smiling up for a second before turning back to his homework. “Music theory.” He points down at his paper. 

“Mmmm.” Kurt nods behind him.

Then Blaine feels Kurt’s hands on his shoulders. What? Kurt pauses for a second but then starts lightly massaging. Blaine figures he must look stressed. “What are you working on?” Nothing anymore. “Oh this? Just a transposition assignment. Kurt looks over his shoulder. Blaine can’t imagine Kurt is actually interested in transposition but still his face is getting very close to Blaine’s. Blaine can feel his breath on his cheek. What is Kurt doing?  He pushes out his desk chair to look at him and Kurt’s hands fall naturally away.

“How were your meetings?” Blaine deflects whatever the situation is. Seems a safe topic.

“Professor Cohen has a spot for me to teach martial arts in stage combat, actually. If I get in, of course.” Kurt sits down on the edge of Blaine’s bed. “And the bursary office was almost as fun as Pride and Prejudice last night.”  

“It was fun,” Blaine nods. He can still feel the thumping of the music, so many boys crowded on to the dance floor.  So much charged energy. Or maybe that was just when Kurt’s body was pressed against his at the end of the night. Whatever.

“You’re a good dancer,” Kurt says, not breaking eye contact since sitting down. Blaine’s heart starts to race, his brain willing him to calm down, that he knows they’re just friends. New, just barely friends at that. Not every hot gay guy will want him. And if Kurt had, he had his chance. Or chances. Anyways, he is a good dancer.

“Thanks,” Blaine shrugs, hiding his blush. “You too.” The silence feels heavy and Blaine is worried it’s going to get awkward. Why now? He’s running through a list of conversation topics to stop the silence - Do you play an instrument? Favorite musical? Favorite museum? 

“If you come sit here, I’ll finish that massage,” Kurt breaks it first. Blaine’s eyebrows rise and he tries to keep his face neutral. Calm. Kurt is biting his lower lip but there’s a smile underneath. Maybe even a shy one as he motions with his head for Blaine to come. “You look like you’ve been sitting at that desk for too long.” Was that a pick up line? He’s been sitting at his desk for about 23 minutes. Clearly too long. Now his hands are clammy but at least it’s Kurt who is giving the massage.

Obviously he goes to sit on his bed. He smiles and turns his back to Kurt. Kurt’s hands are strong. Blaine thinks that he must have a firm handshake. Madam Tibideaux will like that. 

A good actor also needs to be able to hide his excitement. And nerves. Never let them see you sweat.

“Is this okay?” Kurt breaks the silence after a few minutes.

“Mmmm,” Blaine hums. “Not exactly the word I would choose, though.”

“Oh really?” Kurt’s voice is soft and amused. “And what word would you choose?”

Oh. “Maybe relaxing.” Ugh no. “I mean amazing,” Blaine corrects himself. “Feels good, hot.” Blaine shudders. 

Kurt’s hands freeze on his back. Too much. Delete. “I mean-”

“Blaine?” Kurt’s hands disappear and Blaine closes his eyes to hide from the rejection. “Can you turn around?” Great. He turns. They’re both now sitting cross legged on Blaine’s bed. Situation shifted from sexual tension to honest conversation time. Blaine wishes he could rewind. ”So,” Kurt starts and he’s biting his lip again. It’s a cute look. Which is annoying. “I may have noticed that you maybe wanted something to happen this weekend,” Blaine is silent. “I mean between us.” Yeah, you didn’t need to clarify.

“I guess.” Blaine knows he’s blushing. What’s he supposed to say? Minimize. “I mean I was cool either way,” Kurt’s still biting his lip and his look is skeptical but he lets Blaine continue. “I mean you’re hot,” Kurt looks down, definitely also blushing. “But I know I”m only a freshman and I’ve never been with anyone and you’re obviously-”

“Obviously what?” 

Oh. “Obviously not going to want to-” Blaine pauses. He’s embarrassed enough and self deprecation is not sexy.

“I want to, actually.”

“What?” Blaine’s not sure he can take any more of this back and forth. Kurt’s smiling now. Pure flirt. Blaine’s hands are shaking and clammy. Hot. Not in the good way.

“I want to kiss you,” Kurt says matter of factly. “And if that’s okay with you, I think we should see where it goes from there.” 

Blaine nods. “Definitely okay. But still not the word I would choose.” Sexual tension reinstated. 

Kurt is blushing. He is blushing. And they are just sitting there on his dumb little single dorm bed, in dumb child-like cross legged positions, and Blaine is trying to figure out how to get from here to kissing. “We could-” Kurt lies down on the bed and makes room for Blaine to lie down beside the wall.

“Sorry,” Blaine says as he kicks Kurt’s shin trying to get into position. “I warned you the room was small.” So he hasn’t quite mastered the art of pillow talk. Blaine is grinning stupidly and trying not to avoid eye contact and feeling a little ridiculous because he is sweaty and nervous and about to kiss this guy. Be cool. But also, Kurt is lying on his bed, pink and sparkling and probably not nearly as nervous as he is. Kurt giggles. But maybe slightly.  

Then Kurt’s arm is moving around his waist, pulling their bodies together. Kissing. Finally. He’s been ready for so long. Lips and tongues and teeth. It’s messy and wet and he’s sure he’s way too eager. But he’s kissing. And kissing Kurt. 

....

Two hours later, Blaine lies on his back staring wide eyed at the ceiling, trying not to wake Kurt who is curled up in a ball snoozing lightly beside him.

“You okay?” Kurt opens an eye. Blaine turns to him with his best ‘Okay is not the word I was looking for’ look. Again.

“Mmmmhmm.”

“You look shell shocked.” Kurt says propping himself up on his elbow.  Blaine shrugs. Probably accurate. “Too much?”

Blaine turns to face him. “No.” 

Turns out that “I want to kiss you,” turns very quickly into seeing where things go. 

“Can I take off your shirt?” Kurt was kneeling above him and he was lying there, kiss stained and relaxed and not about to say no.

“Well I guess fair is fair. I’ve already seen you shirtless.”

“You have?” They’d spent this weekend taking respectful turns in the washroom. 

“The night I met you,” Blaine answers and it clicks. 

“My beer stained shirt,” Kurt laughs. “ I am a bit of an exhibitionist,” He says as he tosses off his own shirt and starts unbuttoning Blaine’s.

The rest happened so easily and naturally that it’s a bit of a blur. Rolling and bundled and kissing in boxer briefs and Blaine’s hands wandering down Kurt’s back no longer wanting to stop at the elastic band. “I wanted to do this last night,” He breathes as he cups Kurt’s ass and squeezes. 

“Take them off,” Kurt encourages and then they’re naked and kissing and Blaine is too turned on to worry about any aftermath of sex on the first date. They’ve spent three nights together, anyways. 

Kurt’s cock is amazing. Especially hard in his hand as Kurt moans into his neck, flush on top of him. And Blaine isn’t sure what comes over him but he’s pretty sure the words “Blow me” are his own. Kurt looks up at him, pausing from where he’s kissing down his chest, eyebrows raised. “Please. I want you to.” 

“Bossy,”  Kurt whispers into his ear and he feels Kurt’s body peel off of his, sticky sweat hitting the cool air. He opens his eyes, about to apologize, but he can’t before Kurt sinks down on him, on his knees, nothing but an amused twinkle in his eyes before he closes them.

Kurt moans around him and he moans back which takes him too close to the edge of this being over, so he bites back his own sounds.

“I want to hear you again,” Kurt pops off before humming around him.

“I can’t. I’m too close.”

“Me too.” Kurt touches himself between his legs. “Come on, do it.”

“Bossy,” Blaine groans but he obliges, breathing hard and loud, Kurt’s name on his lips as he comes in Kurt’s mouth. “You didn’t have to-”

But Kurt takes a come streaked finger and shushes him as he lets his head fall back and moans, finishing for himself. “I wanted to.”

And now they’re here. Loose and tired and still naked in Blaine’s bed. And no it wasn’t too much. But it is a lot. At least for him.

“You’re bossy when-” Kurt pauses, his cheeks turning pink. It’s a little late for modesty.

“When in the middle of sex?” Blaine laughs at Kurt’s sudden shyness. “I couldn’t have known.”

“Well I guess my bedroom skills are so well honed that I can bring out your inner diva.”

“Sorry,” Blaine apologizes. “I really didn’t mean to-”

“I liked it.” Kurt inches into him, lips on his shoulder. “Dummy. Of course I did.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good,” Blaine smiles a little smugly. “It was pretty epic for a first time.”

“For an any time,” Kurt says. “And trust me, it isn’t always.”

“I don’t know if that means we should never do that again lest I disappoint, or risk seeing you again and seeing what happens.”

“You have no choice.”

“I don’t?”

“No. We’re obviously going to see each other again. You’re dating my roommate.”

...

They text for the next few weeks. Not all the time. Not always flirty. But sometimes. Enough. Well, almost enough. But he’s okay to play it cool.

Kurt: Thanks for having me last weekend. It was fun :)

Blaine: It was okay ;) 

Kurt: That’s now a running joke, right? 

Blaine: No. It was okay. We definitely need more practice.

Kurt: Can you explain transposition to me in three minutes or less?

Blaine: Good luck on your history mid-term! Doesn’t Tina have that too? Tell her good luck!

Kurt: Good luck on your showcase audition!

It’s back and forth as casual as possible while feeling like you’re falling slowly from up in the warm clouds, until Blaine’s phone starts buzzing and buzzing in the middle of music history class. Enough times that he excuses himself.

Kurt: I GOT IN!!!!! I’M COMING TO NYADA!!

Blaine texts back bolded caps CONGRATULATIONS and every celebratory emoji he can find. Including the kiss. Seven times. 

And Kurt’s text that night is an open invitation. 

Kurt to Blaine:  Any chance you’ll come visit your girlfriend next weekend? I hear she misses you.

Blaine to Tina: You up for a visit this weekend?

Tina to Blaine: Of course!

Tina to Blaine: Oh but.

Blaine to Tina: But what?

Tina to Blaine: You should know that -

Blaine to Kurt: Buying my ticket. Can’t wait! Oh but-

Kurt to Blaine: But what?

Blaine to Kurt: It’s just that I haven’t - 

Blaine to Kurt: Told her yet.

Tina to Blaine: Told them yet.

Blaine to Kurt and Tina: This should be fun.

[thedevilinherself]

Special Kinda Woman: Ch.10 Proposal

This is the last chapter of S.K.W. Thank you all so much for all the love you have given this series. It has been a blast telling this story.

“I haven't worn a dress in years.” You muttered, pulling at the skirt of your sundress as you walked down the sidewalk.

“I like it. You look cute.” Jesse grinned, grabbing your hand so you would stop fidgeting with the fabric. “Sides, this is a date. Aren't girls supposed to dress up for their man?”

“Oh, is regular me not good enough for the great McCree?” You teased, giving him a playful eye as you squeezed his hand.

“Well I wasn't going to say anything, but you really have let yourself go.” He smirked, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Yup, I'm just a giant slob. I'm surprised you haven't left me yet.” Bumping him with your hip, you tried to suppress your smile.

“Well, I was thinking I'd get a few drinks in you and sneak off. You'd never find me out in the desert.”

“Oh good. Then I might finally get to catch up on all those books I've been meaning to read.” Slipping yourself under his arm, you enjoyed the smell of his cigar and aftershave as you rested your head against his chest.

“So it's settled, tonight we'll part ways, and never see each other again.” Puffing on his cigar, a cloud of smoke was left dissipating behind you as he rubbed your shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan.” You both laughed, a hearty and soulful sound as you walked into the bar.

You were there on a date. Jesse had returned home a few days ago from a very difficult hunt. Some criminal that had been terrorizing the southwest for months now. The reward had been handsome, and Jesse had come home wanting to celebrate. So, after several nights of drinking and sex, he had decided he wanted to take you out. Fancy restaurants weren't really either of yours thing. And although you enjoyed long rides on his motorcycle, it was time to round up the cattle to ship off for slaughter, you had to stay at the ranch.

So, after talking it over, you both had decided that the best thing to do was take a trip into town and go to the local bar. Jesse had joked the whole way there about how this would be his first time drinking there legally.

Walking in the door, the place was lively for a Wednesday night. It wasn't anything fancy. Every small town in America had one, with a pool table in the corner and the regulars drinking at the bar, the same oldies playing in the background. The atmosphere was spirited, some men in the corner laughing as they played poker. You could hear one of them regaling the other with some exaggerated story. You smiled softly, enjoying the companionship the men shared.

Sitting up at the bar, Jesse ordered you both drinks, knowing you well enough to get you your favorite. Looking over the bar, you could tell he was scoping out the place, making sure it was safe. People in town had come to accept the cowboy. The elders still gave him distrustful looks, but the for the most part let the two of you be, acknowledging that Jesse was a changed man. You were glad to see him home. As much as he used to curse this town, desperate to escape it, it warmed your heart to see him living here, content, happy even.

“You ever had an angry ball? Back when Maggy was working here, she'd sneak 'em to me. God, they'd put me right under the table.” Jesse chuckled, looking down at his drink as his hair fell to obscure his eyes from your view.

“Can't say I have. I guess I spent one too many night picking you up after you'd had your fill to be much of a drinker. I stick with what I know.” The man looked over at you, a smile on his face, but a sheepish look in his eyes as he recalled what little he could remember of those nights.

One night came to mind. The first night he had seen you after joining the Deadlock gang. He had been drinking all day when he decided to put the bullet on your windowsill. And despite it all, you had come to see him. Trudging out through the cold and the darkness, just for him. And what had he given you in return? Insults.

He had hated the way the boys had touched you, hated the idea of anyone else thinking they could have you. But he refused to let them know you meant anything to him, wanted to appear tough in front of the other gang members. Then to further cement his stupidity, he had drunkenly made a pass at you, slipping his tongue in your mouth to remind you that you were his. As the cowboy remembered the way he used to treat you, he leaned over, burying his face in you neck as if trying to hide from his own embarrassment.

“Jesse? One drink and you're already misbehaving? At least get a girl tipsy before you start making moves on her.” You laughed, patting the cowboy's head as he muttered into your neck.

“I love you.” Leaning back, the look Jesse gave you was sincere, his eyes soft as they looked into yours.

“I love you too, scruffy.” You replied with a warm smile, giving his beard a soft tug before downing your drink. Jesse chuckled, tossing back his whiskey before waving over the bartender for more.

As the cowboy talked to the bartender, asking about various drinks, you glanced over his shoulder, noticing a group of men that eyed you from a booth. There were four of them, gruff men who had known years of hard labor. You recognized them from around town, one of them even attended your church. You were pretty sure all of them had been a year or two above you and Jesse in school. Shrugging them off, you turned back to find a new drink placed in front of you. Jesse watched you expectantly, eyes alight with mischief.

“What is this?” You asked, picking up the drink to inspect it.

“Just try it.” Smirking, Jesse watched you, a coy eagerness expressed in his features. You didn't trust it.

“Jesse McCree, are you trying to drug me?” your voice was playful, lids heavy as you gave him a seductive look you knew got the man's motor running. “Going to drag me to some back alley and have your way with me?” Faking indignance, Jesse leaned back, hand over his heart as if wounded.

“You think so low of me, darlin'.” His eyes flashed with spirit before he leaned in to whisper hot air in your ear. “And ‘sides. If I wanted to have my way with you, I'd just drag you off to the bathroom right now. Drunk or not. And make sure the whole bar could hear just how good I make you feel.” You tried to hide your blush, the cowboy smirking as he watched you search for words. Jesse always knew how to charm you out of your guard, even after all this time.

“Shush.” You finally managed, pulling his hat down over his face. Jesse gave a hearty chuckle as he leaned back in his stool, almost tipping it over. You briefly noticed the men looking over again, but thought nothing of it. With the cowboy's loud laugh, most people were looking at the two of you now.

“Just try it for me, sweetheart.” Jesse's coxing voice brought you back to him. Eyeing the drink, you decided to give the man what he wanted.

Tipping the glass back, you downed half the glass. The taste was strong, cinnamon, almost like apple pie. You didn't taste the alcohol, but you felt it. Felt it warm in your belly, felt the tingle in your throat. It wasn't bad, but you could tell it was strong. Your face warmed, body settling as you enjoyed the relaxing feeling that washed over you.

“Well?” Raising a brow, Jesse already knew you liked it, but persisted to make you admit it aloud.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the slight arousal you had suffered at his earlier comment, but you couldn't help but admire how handsome the cowboy was.He was rugged, his features hardened by years of battle and hardship, but there was a light that shone from within him, bright and warm and lively. A soul that couldn't be tamed. If the west could take the form of a man, it would be Jesse McCree. Wild and formidable and full of struggle, yet so full of natural beauty and a free spirit. You loved him. God, you loved him. You knew, just like the west, you could never fully have him to yourself. But to share these moments with this unequaled man, you would bear any amount of loneliness, as long as you knew he was coming back to you.

“It's good.” You admitted, nudging his shoulder as a knowing smile stretched across his face.

“Told you.” Returning to his own drink, Jesse maintained his grin, sipping at his whiskey as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. You loved the way he looked at you, undressing your soft body with his eyes, thinking about all the things he was going to do to you that night, picturing the way you moaned for him that morning.

“Well if it ain't Jesse McCree. Never thought I'd see you in here again.” Your moment was interrupted as a large hand clapped down on the cowboy's back. Looking behind him, you came face to face with the four men that had been eyeing you since you walked in. Raising a brow, Jesse gave the men a questioning look.

“Do I know you.” He really had no memory for faces. The ma that had spoken up looked slightly annoyed, but smiled despite it.

“John Miller. From school.” Jesse furrowed his brows, still not recognizing them as he thought back to his school days. “We used to have some... run ins. Down at the river.” Smacking his hand down on the table, you and the four men jumped as the cowboy sat up straighter.

“That's right. We used to get into scraps all the time. I can't believe you're still living round here.” With a smile on his face, Jesse regarded the other welcomingly, confusing the men with his energy.

“I could say the same about you. No one hated this town more than you.” Chuckling, the cowboy gave a shrug, unbothered by the men.

“Yeah, well, there wasn't much I was fond of when I was young. But that's in the past.” Taking another sip of his drink, the men looked at him incredulously.

“You know, you caused a lot of trouble around here. Can't say you are exactly welcomed around these parts.” You were very aware of how the men loomed over Jesse, not paying any attention to you. Glancing around, it seemed everyone else in the bar had taken note of the interaction as well, waiting through side glances for whatever was to come.

“Listen, I'm sorry for whatever happened between us back then. We were all young. Lets leave it in the past.”

“You got me expelled, McCree.” One of the men piped up, his disdain worn clearly on his face as he glared at Jesse. “My old man beat me something fierce for a week because of you.”

“Listen, I'm not here for a fight.” Jesse seemed relaxed as he rested against the bar, but the look in his eyes was dangerous. “How about I buy you boys a drink and we all have a good night.”

“A drink ain't going to make right what you did to us.” The more aggressive man took a step closer, the leader of the group eyeing him over his shoulder before his eyes fell on you.

“Maybe it's best if you leave ma'am. This man ain't the kind of company you want anyway.”

“I think I'll stay, if it's all the same.” You weren't sure what was about to happen, but you weren't about to leave Jesse's side. Even the once jovial men playing poker had stilled, waiting to see how this played out.

“Ma'am, this ain't the kind of thing I want to involve a woman in. I'd hate to see you end up hurt because of this lowlife.” It wasn't a threat, wasn't meant to scare you. He was sincere in his concern, not wanting to upset you or risk your safety.

Pulling out his money, Jesse threw some bills out on the counter, enough to pay for your drinks as he sighed.

“If it's that big of an issue, we'll leave. I told you, I'm not looking for a fight.” Before Jesse could stand, the angriest of the men spoke up, eyes staring straight at you.

“Hey! I remember her. She used to follow Jesse around everywhere. His little slut puppy.” With that, Jesse was bolt out of his chair, fist coming up under the man's jaw with unimaginable force. The man was knocked flat on his ass, out cold.

Everything went wild after that, Jesse and the remaining three men becoming a mess of fists and swings. The cowboy dispensed another man with ease, but as the bar sprang to life, more men came to join the fray, feeling loyalty to the men, still seeing Jesse as an outsider. Despite his skill, Jesse was overwhelmed. One of the larger men managed to wrestle Jesse into a choke hold, securing him as one of the original men began to wail on him. The cowboy let out a groan as the man's fist connected with his gut.

Jumping up on the counter, glass in hand, you brought it down hard across the man's skull, shattering on impact. You hissed at the sharp sting that shot through your hand, blood dripping onto the bar as the man that held Jesse hit the floor. Small shards of glass remained embedded in your palm, the alcohol adding a painful burn. Taking the opportunity, Jesse punched out the man in front of him before turning to look at you, concern etched into his face. At the sight of your blood soaked hand, Jesse visibly paled.

“McCree! You bastard!” Looking over, the last remaining member of the original four stood, large knife brandished. You knew he didn't want to, but you could see Jesse's right hand twitch, a sure sight that he was about to go for his gun. He wasn't about to risk your safety.

Suddenly, a man jumped into the fray, sucker punching the man before forcing him to the ground, stomping the knife out of the man's hand. You were surprised when the man looked up at the two of you, giving a weak smile. You recognized him immediately, Mark.

“Hey, McCree.” He said awkwardly, clearly never having been in a fight before.

“Johnson? What are you doing here.” Jesse remarked, awe struck at his rescuer.

“Looked like you were having fun. Thought I'd join in.” In his mind, you were sure Mark pictured himself sounding cool, but his voice had a slight shake to it.

The other men were more hesitant to continue things at the new comers appearance. Many of them were friends with the young engineer, customers of his. But luckily for them, and everyone involved, the owner walked out, the sound of his shotgun loading stopping everyone in their tracks.

“Now that's enough of that.” No one argued. “Mark, I think it's time you and your friends leave.”

“I would agree.” Nodding, Mark stood, straightening himself before helping you down from the bar top.

Without another word, the three of you took your leave. No one made a move to follow you, letting things end there. Maybe it was because of Mark's involvement, maybe it was because Jesse had proven himself more than formidable, either way, you were glad things were ending. Soon enough you found yourselves on the sidewalk.

Taking your bleeding hand in his, Mark inspected the damage. You winced as he splayed your palm out, turning your hand to check how bad the wound was.

“It looks pretty superficial. I have a first aid kit at my shop. I can fix you up there.” Mark's shop was just down the street, not a long walk. Jesse put his arm around you, but didn't argue, more concerned with getting you taken care of then petty jealousy. In a short while, you were seated on Mark's work bench, the man tweezing small shards of glass out of your flesh. Jesse stood at your side, hands alternating between holding yours and rubbing over your shoulders and back. Despite his years of combat, Jesse felt extremely antsy at seeing you injured in such a way.

“Thank you for your help Mark. I owe you.” He offered you a friendly smile, generous as always.

“No worries. Livened up my poker night.”

“Do you need a ride home? I'm sure you don't want to walk home after tonight.” As he finished bandaging up your hand, Mark got up to wash his own.

“No. Thank you though. Alice was planning on picking me up at 9 anyway.” As he dried his hands, Jesse looked between the two of you, confused.

“Who's Alice?” The cowboy asked.

“My wife.” Mark explained, remembering that Jesse had never met his beloved.

“You're married? Since when?” Astonished, Jesse looked at you as if he both doubted what Mark said and thought you had withheld this information. You hadn't thought about it, hadn't ever stopped to think that Jesse was unaware of Mark's marital status. It had been so long ago. Jesse hadn't been yours then.

“Ten years ago as of last month actually.” Mark stated, fighting back a chuckle as Jesse remained awestruck. “Hang on, I got pictures.” Whipping out his phone, Mark quickly pulled up pictures of their latest family vacation.

His wife was beautiful, blond and slender as she played in the sand with their youngest son. Their other children, an eight year old boy and a daughter that looked six played with a beach ball. They all looked so happy, the picture perfect family. Mark glowed as he showed off his children, rattling off their accomplishments and skills in music.

You both jumped as Jesse let out a roaring laugh, doubling over as he struggled for breath. How many times had he worried about you and Mark. How many times had the thought persisted that you may have retained your feelings for the man. How many times had he staved off the idea that the established engineer could give you everything he never could. And now, come to find out, Mark hadn't been a threat for some time now. Jesse may not have known the man intimately, but he knew he didn't have it in him to cheat.

“Well, anyway.” Mark continued, leading you both towards the front awkwardly, embarrassed at his gushing and the cowboy's amusement, not understanding it. “I better get back to the bar, Alice will be waiting for me.” Locking the door, you all said your goodbyes, Jesse giving Mark a hearty handshake and a glowing smile before the man left you. As you watched your old friend fade into the dark of the night, the cowboy continued to chuckle.

“And just what is so funny?” Turning towards the man, you couldn't help the warmth that grew in your heart, though you hid it behind an aura of scolding, hands on your hips as you raised a brow at the man. Seeing your expression, Jesse continued to laugh, eyes twinkling as he put his arm around your shoulder. Maybe it was the slight buzz he still had, or the great mood this newfound knowledge had put him in, but Jesse was completely honest when he answered you.

“I just feel a bit silly, worrying all this time that there might still be something between you two.” You were surprised by his admittance, unsure what to say in response. It wasn't his confession that surprised you, but the way he said it, like it was no longer a problem, like that worry had ended tonight. You smiled, letting the silence settle as you wrapped an arm around him, starting to walk towards your car. In the stillness, Jesse thought on his words before he voiced them.

“What ever happened between you two?” Honestly, you were a little surprised it had taken him this long to ask that question. Memories flashed through your head, filled with strong emotions and struggling conflict.

“Well, after I rejected his proposal, the relationship pretty much died.” Stopping in his tracks, the motion of your walking pulling you out of his grasp as you turned to look at him.

“He purposed?” You winced at the look in his eyes. Jesse studied your face as if looking for a hint of humor, a trace of a joke.

“Yeah. Two years after you visited me at my parents.” You replied, not sure what else to say.

“But you said no?” You nodded, words escaping you. “Why?” eyes disbelieving, he seemed unsure as he waited for your answer. “He could have given you everything. Why did you say no?”

You thought about it, trying to form your feelings into words better than you could back then.

“I liked Mark, he was a great guy. He would have made a great husband, given me a good life. But I was hesitant to marry him. I felt like I was pressured into that kind of relationship by my parents. Maybe a part of our relationship had always been like that. What my parents wanted. But one day, I thought to myself, 'If I marry Mark, who will be waiting at the door when Jesse comes home?'. So I told him I couldn't marry him.”

It was as if he was seeing you for the first time in years. The laugh lines beginning to form around your lips, the wrinkles around your eyes. The light in your eyes had softened with time. You had waited your youth away for him, giving up your chance at marriage, a family, a normal life, for him. Your whole adult life could be summed up in a series of a few visits. You had put everything on pause for him, and as the weight of this realization came to him, Jesse felt a vice clamping around his heart. You were in his arms before you realized it.

“I love you.” the cowboy mumbled, kissing all over your face. “I love you. I love you. I love you so goddamn much.” The slight tremor to his hands did not go unnoticed by you. “I'm so sorry. You've given up so much for me. I swear, I'll never take you for granted again. Let me spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You've waited so long. Let me make it worth it.” Arms tight around you, his lips wandered your face and neck, so full of affection the cowboy didn't know what to do with himself. “Let me prove I can be a man that deserves you.” Wriggling your arms up, you grabbed the back of his neck, holding him still so you could take his lips, attempting to bring him down.

“You already are, Jesse. You always have been.”

[jennycalendar]

grand romantic gestures (6/6)

“you’re telling me,” buffy was saying, “that ms. calendar recreated the ritual to restore angel’s soul, and then angel killed her for it.”

“yep,” said willow’s voice.

“is…gil okay?”

“i, um,” gil had a feeling willow was glancing over at her closed office door, “i don’t know.”

this chapter: gil and jenny work through some issues

“Ow,” said Gil weakly.

“Oh my god,” said Buffy angrily. “Gil, what the hell were you thinking?”

Gil opened her eyes. She was lying sprawled on the concrete. Next to her was the vampire, much more bruised and bloody than Gil herself felt. It seemed as though the vampire had attempted to lessen the blow of impact for Gil when they hit the ground.

“She was holding on really tightly,” said Buffy, seeming to notice where Gil’s attention was directed. “I think she wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Did she have her soul?” Gil asked tentatively.

“I don’t know,” Buffy replied. “I don’t think it mattered.”

The vampire’s eyelashes fluttered. “Ow,” she said softly, in a way that didn’t sound at all like a soulless, evil creature.

“Don’t get too close,” Buffy warned her, but Gil was already moving towards the vampire, pulling her gently up into her arms. “Gil, do you want to die?”

Gil kissed Jenny’s forehead. “Darling,” she said softly.

“Roberta,” Jenny murmured, resting her cheek on Gil’s shoulder. “I’m so tired.”

“It’s all right.” Gil stroked Jenny’s hair. “Buffy, do you have a car?”

“I borrowed Cordelia’s,” Buffy replied. “Is—does she have her soul?”

Gil didn’t answer.

Jenny looked up at Gil, eyes very soft. “I love you,” she said, voice thin and fragile. “Did you—know that, baby? I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gil whispered. “You’re going to be fine.”

Jenny reached up and stroked Gil’s cheek. Then, unexpectedly, her eyes glowed golden. She reeled before falling back into Gil’s arms, completely unconscious.

Gil stared, breathing hard.

“That wasn’t Jenny,” said Buffy quietly. “That—”

Gil knew who it was that had confessed her love. I’m dying tonight. You’re not. I won’t let you. “She really did love me, I think,” she said. “In her own way. Certainly not in a safe or sane way, but she still loved me very much.”

Buffy was quiet. Then she said, “I’ve never known a vampire who used their last words for love.”

“Good and evil are very simplistic concepts, Buffy,” said Gil. “As are love and hatred. There is nothing in this world untouched by either, I expect—not even vampires.”

Jenny stirred.

Gil forgot everything else that she had meant to say. “Jenny?” she whispered.

Jenny uttered a sharp, pained breath and held tightly to Gil. “Hurts,” she mumbled.

Gil started to cry. “Jenny,” she murmured tearfully. “My Jenny.”

It was so strange, remembering that this small, fragile woman in her arms was the cold, forbidding figure that had so calmly stood at the second-floor window, watching Gil punch a hole through her windshield. Jenny looked up at Gil with soft, dark eyes that were full of love and pain, and Gil felt like some missing piece of her had snapped back into place.

“Oh, god,” Jenny whispered. “Oh, no. Roberta—”

“It’s all right,” Gil tried to say, but she was crying, so it came out a little less coherent than she’d have liked.

“Roberta, I remember.” Jenny’s voice shook. “What I did.”

Gil kissed Jenny clumsily. Her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, peppering her face with off-center kisses. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you. I love you.”

“Stop.” Jenny pulled back. “I—you could have died. Running into a burning house like that—”

“You’re here,” Gil whispered.

“You can’t do that, okay?” Jenny sounded like she was trying to be authoritative, but also like she was trying not to cry. “Promise me. No more doing reckless shit just to save me from my own poor decision-making.”

“Perhaps now isn’t the time to request this sort of thing of me, dear,” said Gil vaguely. “We do n-need to have a serious conversation about—our relationship—but I just—” She pulled Jenny very close.

“Okay.” Jenny sniffled, hugging Roberta back. “Yeah. Good point.”

Buffy awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Right!” Gil pulled back a bit. “We should—”

“Get going,” Jenny finished.

“Yes,” Gil agreed softly, and kissed Jenny properly for the first time in nearly a month. “Yes,” she said again, pushing Jenny’s hair back. Jenny all but melted into the kiss, placing her hands on either side of Gil’s face—

“Guys,” said Buffy gently. “I think Ms. Calendar probably needs medical attention.”

“Mmno, ‘sgood,” Jenny mumbled against Gil’s mouth.

It was the most difficult thing Gil had ever done, but she broke the kiss, standing up slowly with Jenny still in her arms. Jenny nestled her head against Gil’s chest, closing her eyes.

“Right, then,” Gil said. “We’d best head back to the library. I’m sure everyone’s quite concerned.”

“Probably.” Buffy smiled shyly at her. “I—I’m sorry, Gil.”

“About what?”

Buffy winced a little playfully. “All those times I said Ms. Calendar was your best friend seem reeeally incorrect all of a sudden.”

“Really,” said Gil.

Jenny giggled softly.

There was quite a lot of commotion when Gil returned with Jenny cuddled in her arms. Or—more accurately, the most commotion came from Willow, who shrieked very loudly, knocked over a stack of books on the table as she jumped up, and then immediately started whisper-panicking to anyone near her about whether or not she’d been too loud and upset Jenny’s new super-senses. Cordelia’s eyes went very wide, and for the first time, Gil saw a soft sympathy in them. Angel looked down and didn’t say anything.

Xander stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly to Gil. “I—I just miss Jesse. Makes me wonder, you know—if he’d lasted as a vampire, maybe we could have saved him too.”

“I understand,” said Gil simply. She couldn’t imagine the kind of hurt she’d be feeling if Jenny had died before the spell could take hold.

Jenny stirred. “Hey,” she murmured. “We in the library?”

“Ms. Calendar.” Willow sounded near tears.

“She’s all right,” Gil reassured the room. “A bit banged up, but she should be fine.”

“I’ve had worse hangovers,” quipped Jenny.

Gil kissed the top of her head. “I’m sure you have, dear,” she agreed. “Buffy, would you be so kind as to get the first-aid kit in my office?”

“Roger that,” Buffy agreed, throwing a quietly happy look over her shoulder as she left.

Gil sat down in one of the library chairs, Jenny in her arms. “I expect I’ll have to find a more permanent solution in regards to keeping sunlight out of my apartment,” she said quietly, “but I’ll draw the curtains tonight when I take you home.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jenny all but purred.

“Wh—oh, dear lord, Jenny, you just fell out of a burning building,” said Gil, trying to sound exasperated but mostly coming out a bit tearful and happy. God, she’d missed this woman. “How can you possibly be coming on to me right now?”

“I’m versatile,” Jenny replied, nuzzling Gil’s neck and pressing a quiet kiss there.

“Okay,” said Xander. “Just to make sure we’re all on the same page here—you guys have a gay thing going on, right? It isn’t all in my head?”

“It’s more of a bi thing, actually,” Jenny corrected. “But—” She looked hesitantly up at Gil.

“We’re in love,” Gil clarified.

“Wh—oh!” Jenny smiled, eyes sparkling. “Yeah, um, yes. Apparently. That’s—yeah.”

Gil kissed her.

“All right, let’s get you bandaged up,” Buffy announced, coming out of the office with the first aid kit. “Come on, guys, didn’t you do enough of that in the car?”

“Why, do you have a problem with girls who date girls?” said Willow in a high, somewhat nervous voice.

“Not at all!” Buffy sounded positively indignant at the concept. “I just have a problem with gratuitous making out when Ms. Calendar really does need medical attention.” The last part of her sentence was punctuated with a very pointed look at Gil and Jenny, who reluctantly broke apart.

“Oh.” Willow exhaled, smiling. “Good.”

Gil shifted Jenny in her lap so that Buffy could reach a few of the bruises. “Mostly superficial,” she said. “It doesn’t look like any bones have been broken.”

“I guess that’s that vampire strength for you,” Jenny replied with a small, tense shrug.

Something occurred to Gil that she didn’t all the way like. “Jenny,” she said suddenly. “I—never gave you the opportunity to—choose.”

Jenny frowned. “Choose what?”

“Whether or not you wanted to be brought back.”

“What?” Jenny blinked, and then her face softened. “Oh. Oh, honey, no, don’t worry about that, okay?”

“It’s a fairly significant decision, Jenny,” said Gil quietly. “It’s not something I can just brush under the rug.”

Jenny shook her head. “It’s okay,” she said. “I—had a lot of things I wanted to do, before I died. I wasn’t at peace when I died. Granted, this isn’t exactly the way I’d have chosen to come back, but it’s also not something I’d change.”

Gil didn’t feel convinced.

“Roberta,” said Jenny gently, a playful note in her voice. “Look at me. Don’t you think I’d tell you if I thought you did something stupid? You know how good I am at that.��

“I—”

Jenny kissed Roberta’s nose. “We’re going to work this out,” she said. “I’m here, and I’m going to find a way to anchor the curse so that we can have sex, and—”

“Definitely didn’t need to know that,” said Xander.

Gil walked down to Jenny’s grave, hand in hand with her lover. “Is it—strange?” she asked haltingly.

Jenny shrugged. “It is and it isn’t,” she said. “It’s not like I feel a big emotional attachment to Jenny Calendar, No Birthday, No Date of Death.”

“I’m sorry,” said Gil quietly. “I—wasn’t very involved in the funeral process, or I’d have—”

“Roberta.” Jenny squeezed Gil’s hand. “I—I’m not the same person who got put in that ground. You know that, right?”

Gil turned to look at her. There was an unusual vulnerability in Jenny’s eyes, one that she hadn’t seen for a very long time. “I’ll love you no matter who you are,” she said softly. “Even if you don’t know who that is yet, I’ll be here. I can promise you that.”

Jenny gave Gil a flicker of a smile, stepping into her arms. Gil held her. It was enough.

[vintagemichelle91]

A Hard Lesson in Matrimony: Chapter 6

Author’s Note: The time has come for Mike and Maggie’s wedding! Come along and see how Natalia and Rafael pulled off a dream wedding in just one night! @rauliskafan and I hope you enjoy this final chapter to this installment of A Hard Lesson Series! Stay tuned for more to come your way! 

           “Here she comes!”

           Rafael led Maggie towards the sound of Rollins’ excited voice as she fluffed Jesse’s hair. He promised to never let her fall. Suddenly he wondered if his legs would hold up on the sand.

           “Well, ladies? We’re doing this!” Maggie held out the chiffon skirt tinged in a pink hue, a series of white swirls adorning the bodice and dotting the barely there bolero sleeves. And he only knew that much because Natalia hoped for the gown from the moment she laid eyes on it.

           “Maggie,” Natalia whispered. “I’m so happy for you.”

           “Thanks for helping me with the threads,” Maggie said. “I…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at Violetta, the little girl stomping forward with her tiny brow furrowed.

           “You know this not the dress I wanted,” she said.

           “I’m sorry, Violetta. Did I make a mistake?” Just having calmed her down, Rafael moved to steady her when Violetta smiled.

           “It okay. Mami like your best fairy godmother.”

           Natalia fell to her knees to kiss her pink cheek as Violetta waved one fingers before her mother’s eyes.

           “But no smoking, Mami.” Natalia looked to Rafael in confusion as he sighed.

           “I’ll explain later,” he promised when a stray piano and a single trumpet played a Rodgers and Hammerstein overture.

           “Fitting that it’s Cinderella,” Rafael whispered.

           “Let’s hope I can live up to the hype, counselor.”

Rollins walked down a long red rug spread over beach. Liv went next, helping Noah along to ensure that he balanced the ring, Natalia winked over her shoulder.

           “I’ll see you when you’re a wife.” Natalia’s feet glided against the carpet as she minded the flower girls.

           “Violetta thinks it’s a competition,” Maggie said. A bouquet’s worth of petals spilled to the ground and Jesse finally gave up and set her basket aside, running to her mother as they all joined the groomsmen on the makeshift altar.

           And then the music shifted into bridal chorus.

           “We good?” Rafael asked.

           “We’re almost golden,” Maggie muttered.

           “Let’s get Cinderella to her prince.”

           Folding chairs adorned with ribbons and unfamiliar faces save for Alessia and Lucia met their procession. Rafael stayed a step back as Dodds shook his hand and helped Maggie to the small platform wreathed in ivy, his smile brighter than the sun.  

           “Who gives this woman to be married?”

           He froze. For a moment, Rafael felt as if it was his first attempt before a jury, the words trapped in his throat and his notes forgotten. Until he found Natalia’s eyes, saw her sweet smile. As his gaze shifted to Maggie, he savored the chance to speak before a crowd. not to argue for a condemnation. Much better to praise a promise, and he took the ballerina’s hand in his.

           “I do,” he said. “Best wishes, little sister.”

           Kissing her cheek, Rafael was ready to join his mother and Alessia in the front row when Violetta waved him closer.

           “Muñequita?” he asked. “Is something---?”

           “You stay, Papi. You belong up here with us.”

           His mother laughed with Alessia, and he searched his mind for some way to bow out gracefully when Maggie spoke up.

           “I should have thought of that myself, counselor,” she confessed. “Please don’t go.”

           She smiled through her veil, and Rafael stood at the Noah’s side as the celebrant, a minister from the chorus, spoke up.

           “I understand that the couple has written their own vows?”

           Maggie sighed, her light breath causing her veil to billow as she looked into the sergeant’s eyes.

           “The night we first met,” she began. “I wasn’t very friendly to you. I said you had a square jaw. Didn’t think that you could dance.”

           She tightened her grip on his hand and took a deep breath.

           “Your face is so fine. Maybe we still have to work on the dancing.”

           The bridesmaids laughed as Dodds grin expanded.

           “It’s a funny thing when you’re on the stage. Maybe some of our guests know the feeling.”

           The actors acknowledged their understanding as Maggie turned away and looked to Natalia before finding Dodds’ eyes again.

           “Everyone’s looking at you. Still it’s… sometimes it’s like no one sees you. But you see me, Mike. All of me. Natty told me that you were a hero.”

           Rafael shared a look with his wife, their minds connecting around the memory of the man taking a bullet that spared Violetta from harm. Now the little girl stood strong and rapt, watching a fairy tale come to life before her eyes.

           “I love that you’re so brave. That you keep the world safe. I didn’t think someone like you could ever love me. But there you were. And I love you back. So much. Mike, I want to see your face every day. I… I only want to dance with you.”

           Her lips touched his cheek through the stream of lace as the water rippled a few feet away. Dodds peered at her for several long seconds until Fin nudged him and he clasped Maggie’s arms.

           “I don’t know if I can top that,” he started. “I keep thinking about when you first said you loved me. Up until then I wasn’t sure if you did. If I was enough.”

           “Oh, Mike.”

           “Tia Maggie, it his turn.”

           Natalia tried to shush Violetta as Dodds shot the little girl a quick smile.

           “Thank you, Little V,” he continued. “I really want to say this.”

           Dodds touched her face as his smile broadened.

           “I’ve had lots of love in my life.”

      He nodded at the Chief, the older man starting to tear up as Liv met his gaze.

    “Lots of love here today. But never anyone like you. Never someone so sure and funny. Maybe a little crazy.”

   Their noses touched through the veil as he wrapped one arm around her waist.

           “I want all of it. All of you. Tomorrow’s not enough. I’m banking on forever, Maggie.”  

           Fin took the rings from Noah’s pillow. Maggie parroted the celebrant’s words as she pressed the golden band into place.

           But Dodds had an addendum at the end of his vow.

           “And I’ll always give you my coat to keep you warm.”

           Maggie lowered her eyes as her lips curled into a smirk.

           “We won’t be cold anymore,” she murmured. “Not as long as we’re together.”

           When they were pronounced man and wife, Dodds lifted the veil, smiling, seemingly lost in her stare until Violetta jumped up.

           “Kiss her, Tio Mike! Why I have to tell you that?”

           The sergeant saluted the flower girl and pulled his bride to his lips, the wedding party and the actors clapping as the miniature orchestra started a new tune, the actors’ voices meshing in perfect harmony.

Ten minutes ago I saw you I looked up when you came through the door. My head started reeling, You gave me the feeling The room had no ceiling or floor…

The couple laughed as Natalia lifted Violetta into her arms.

“Natty, you really didn’t have to do this,” Maggie said.

“Yes I did. What are sisters for?”

I have found her, she's an angel With the dust of the stars in her eyes...

    Kissing her cheek, Maggie started to walk back up the aisle, and Rafael held up his wrist and the cufflink.

           “You didn’t let me fall,” Maggie said.

           “It was all you. You were perfect.”

     Leaving the altar and making their way back to the castle, Rafael watched Natalia take Fin’s arm as the others paired up until he was left with Noah.

           “You and me, kid?” he asked.

           “Papi!”

           Violetta scampered back upon a trail of flowers, her father ready to take her hand when she batted him away.

           “Noah my date!”

           His daughter pulled the ring bearer up the aisle as Rafael laughed and looked to the other lonely little flower girl and held out his hand.

           “There’s a party inside.”

           They climbed the stone steps and walked through a lobby bearing posters of previous productions with a variety of medieval touches, empty armor plackarts, swords and shields.

           “What do you think, Jesse?” he asked.

           “I think Sonny brought lunch!”

Several long tables were full of food. Jesse hugged Carisi’s legs as the detective tasted the sauce and smiled.

“How’d you manage this?” Rollins asked.

“I knew this town sounded familiar,” he said as he checked the antipasto spread. “My cousin Anthony knows this guy Tuddy who left Brooklyn to set up shop. Would you believe that he started with a hole in the wall pizzeria?”

           “I think I saw that place,” Rafael admitted as Liv handed him a drink. “They did all this?”

           “Don’t let appearances deceive you, Barba,” Carisi continued. “Tuddy’s got a whole place right by a winery just west of here. They do weddings.”

           “You’re just mentioning that now?” Rafael asked. The detective’s tongue tied as Natalia joined them. “It could have come in---”

           “Atticus, hush,” she said as she tipped the glass towards her husband’s mouth. “Maggie had to have a castle.”

           “And you granted her wish.”

Entering the theatre, seeing the sets for Cinderella’s ball as the lights dimmed, Fin took a microphone from one of the actors and cleared his throat.

           “Ladies and gentleman, I give you, all the way from Manhattan, Mike and Maggie Dodds.” Maggie giggled at the sound of her new name and they waltzed around the faux flowers and Christmas lights looking like magic, the actors breaking into song again as they snapped pictures and Rollins sighed.

           “Nice,” she started. “I could go for something like this. Someday.” She found her glass empty as Carisi offered her a refill with Jesse in his arms.

           “Remember; I’m full of surprises.”

           Rafael saw her cheeks flush as the first dance came to an end and the director of the troupe invited the others to join them on set. Noah rushed forward first as Jesse asked to be let down.

           “Watch it!” Violetta warned. “Noah all mine!”

           Rafael watched the little boy hide behind a pumpkin as the girls became fascinated by the ladies of the company in their princess garb and Liv went to save her son.

            “I’m dizzy! And it’s fabulous!” Maggie exclaimed. With Natalia back under his arm, Rafael followed the happy couple to the lobby and stole a stuffed mushroom as Maggie spun under Dodds’ hand.

           “Thank you,” the bride said. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

           “We were so happy to help” Natalia assured her.

           “And Carisi did the food,” Rafael said.

           “Natty, don’t you love our friends?”

           She hugged her sister as Natalia adjusted her veil.

           “And our family.”

           Rafael pulled Dodds aside as they talked and he poured him a drink.

           “Feeling good?” the ADA asked.

           “Think I’ll like being married,” Dodds admitted.

           “Only a matter of time before they’re dragging us on vacations.”

           “Double dates to the opera,” Dodds said.

            “Are you a fan?”

            “I’ll learn. How hard can it be?”

            Rafael clinked his glass with a smile.

    “We’ll start you off with Puccini. It’s our favorite. And Natalia can correct you if you get anything wrong.”

    They moved back to their wives when Natalia called after her mother.

    “Is something the matter, Mommy?” she asked.

     “No I… I just want to check on…”

    Trevor emerged from the shadows with his hands in his pockets. The music from the theatre turned to a pop tune and Rafael saw Dodds ready to show the man the way out when Maggie cut him off at the pass.

    “You came,” Maggie started.

   “Alessia… she let me know about the change of plans. I wanted to see you on your big day.”

           “Is that all?” she asked.

           “It’s more than I hoped for.”

           The lobby stayed silent save for the clinking of a few actors’ cutlery against their plates.

           “I probably should take my leave now,” Trevor said. “You know there’s a train station not a stone’s throw from here?”

           “We are well aware,” Rafael answered as Trevor took Maggie’s hand.

           “Be happy, my darling…” As he raised his eyes, Rafael followed his gaze to the pair of sapphire gems adorning Maggie’s ears.

           “You… you wore them?” Trevor managed.

           “Something old, borrowed, and blue” she said. “Do you… you can stay and have some food. A few drinks.”

           “A dance with the bride?” Trevor hopefully asked.

           “Maybe we can arrange that, too.”

           Taking Dodds’ arm, Maggie moved back to the theatre as Natalia caught her father’s eye.

           “Something new?” Trevor asked.

           “It’s a start.”

           The party carried into the night, Liv and Maggie changing partners on Cinderella’s set. The Chief smiled at the bride as Natalia waltzed Trevor in their direction. When Maggie ultimately accepted the Englishman’s hands, Natalia passed by Rollins and Carisi talking softly in the wings and fell into the front row.      

           “So…”

           “A job well done, Atticus.”

           Kneeling in the aisle, Rafael pulled his bride into his arms and kissed her neck, basking in the music of her laughter as she played with his hair.

           “Best trip to New Jersey I ever took.”

           “You just didn’t want to schlep all the way to Vermont.”

           “But you know that I would have.”

           She was silent as she slid to her feet in the blush pink dress, her delicate fingers straightening his tie before guiding him to the back of the theatre and finding a quiet corner resting under a coat of arms.

           “Thank you,” she started as she stroked his cheek.

           “All I had to do was keep from falling,” he joked.

           “So light on your feet,” she teased. “But I mean… thank you helping make this happen. For loving my sister.”

           He looked back to see Maggie in her husband’s arms as the actors tried to match her steps.  But the ballerina would not be bested as she hiked up her skirt, pirouetting on pointe...

           And Dodds captured her in mid-spin.

           “Look at that will you,” he said. The sergeant lifted her off the ground, Maggie’s skirt looking like angel’s wings as the actors applauded and she slipped into his kiss. “He can dance.”

           “It’s because they fit,” Natalia said as she turned his eyes back to hers. “Just like us.”

           “Hermosa… I told you that I love it when we’re in sync.”

           “Which we are. Which we always will be.”

           Wanting to take her to the beach, to walk with her on the sand and simply see her face in the moonlight, he stalled when a squealing voice sliced into the mood.

           “What you two doing?” Violetta asked. Smiling, Natalia smoothed her skirt and took hold of her tiny hands.

           “Are you liking the party, my little love?” she asked.

           “I think Tia Maggie look so pretty.”

           “Yes she does,” Natalia agreed. “A bride is always happy on her wedding day.”

           “Were you, Mami?”

           “I…”

           Even in the shadows, he saw his wife’s eyes mist over as she held his face and sighed softly.

           “It was the day I got everything that I ever wanted.”

           Rafael longed to meet her lips when Violetta pulled them back to the crowd with surprising strength and climbed the steps to the stage.

           “I gonna get married, too!” she declared. “Me and Noah.”

           The little boy ran off in the other direction with Fin in pursuit. But Violetta was unfazed.

“He get used to the idea,” she said. “And I be the best bride!”

           “Oh no,” Rafael warned. “No weddings for you.”

           “Never, Papi?” she whined.

           “Maybe one day, muñequita,” he conceded as her little face fell. “Let’s say when you’re… seventy-eight.”

           Natalia laughed as her little girl’s head turned in an effort to work out the numbers.

           “Okay,” she said. “But I not gonna let my hair get gray, Papi. There products to fix that.”

           “Sweet pea, silver only makes your Papi more special.”

           When the music picked up again, Rafael saw Fin asking Rollins to try a few steps as Carisi twirled Jesse on the stage. Taking a cue from the cop, he lifted Violetta into his arms and reached for Natalia’s hand.

           “Sure you wouldn’t rather have someone else?” he whispered.

           “Not as long as I live, Atticus.”

           “Make it longer,” Rafael said. “Like my brother-in-law said, I’m banking on forever.”

           “It’s a deal.”

           They danced until the break of dawn. Only then did Maggie scurry back to the beach to toss her bouquet.

           “All the single ladies!” Maggie cried out.

           Several actresses took center stage on the sand. Lucia urged Alessia forward and Violetta demanded a chance when she saw Jesse getting in on the action.

           “What can it hurt?” Rollins said. “Pretty sure they won’t---”

           But Jesse did. To Violetta’s supreme frustration. She looked ready to burst as Jesse approached her mother with the bouquet in hand.

      ��    “You’re next, Momma.”

           Rollins blushed and hung her head as Carisi offered her a mimosa in the morning air.

           “Amanda?”

           She accepted the drink as Jesse smiled.

           “Sorry!” Maggie said as she hugged her niece. “I was aiming for you.”

           “I guess it okay,” Violetta finally conceded. “You happily ever after, Maggie?”

           The bride’s eyes turned towards Dodds, his tie askew, an unending smile plastered across his face, and the ballerina kissed her niece.

           “All the way, Violetta.”

           “Then I rest my case. That what I should say. Right, Papi?”

           Loving his little lawyer and his hermosa flor holding out her hand, Rafael grinned.

           “Couldn’t have put it any better, muñequita.”

[presuninoc-blog]

Im dating a commitment phobe

10 Brutal Truths About Dating A Commitment Phobe Or are they, who knows and how do you really know when you are so emotionally involved? Even in my parents marriage, I have seen the tables turn from time to time.  Stop settling for guys who are ambiguous about what they want and start looking for men who are just as excited to start a life with someone they can fall in love with.  You can be confident that the people you meet using our service are commitment-minded and serious about their search for love.  They may withdraw sexually and blame it on the woman for being demanding.  Stop initiating contact as much, take longer to reply to messages, generally become less available than usual.

What is Commitment Phobia & Relationship Anxiety? People who have commitment issues generally have a serious problem in staying in a relationship for the long-term.  I guess no matter what we do, there are always things to consider and the chance that someone will be hurt.  If he gives a reasonable timeframe, okay.  It is sometimes possible to work through commitment problems and come out stronger on the other side.  They will hate the fact that they committed to you for the weekend and if this happens too often, they might also start to resent the relationship on the whole.  Just over a month ago, Jesse read for me for almost 30 minutes.

Confessions of a Commitment It is very possible that I am.  Therein is the struggle many girls over 30 face.  He has called ,I have not returned his calls.  Watch out for the dater with the broken wing.  How do some get so emotionally stunted in their growth? If you choose to walk away because your partner cannot commit, they are not going to be able to commit in the future as well.  Miracles are a supernatural thing.  This one goes hand-in-hand with perfectionism.

12 Women Reveal What It Takes To Nudge A Commitment Phobic Man Into A Relationship I kept waiting for that feeling to kick in for me.  There are many reasons why someone may be afraid to commit to a romantic relationship or a big life change such as moving in together, getting married or having a baby.  And when the woman threatens to leave the relationship, , but they never do.  Trust me: you will find a man that is 1,000% more right for you…once you let this one go.  They spin stories to justify their contradictory behavior.  There is help, but a person needs to want to change and find a way to overcome their relationship anxiety.  But I thought my love for him would bring him around.

8 Ways To Know You're Dating A Guy With Commitment Issues You are going to have to give them a lot of space to figure out what they want.  Every client has a different Karmic path before them to travel and different life lessons to learn.  They know an ongoing sexual relationship often leads to commitment, so they choose to run when things start to head in that direction.  Then, it's up to the woman to decide whether she wishes to spend time with him on those terms.  Like most psychological issues, the underlying causes differ for everyone.  He only makes last-minute plans I was once notorious for making last-minute plans when I was a commitmentphobe.

Dating A Commitment And you too told me that he would be back in my life.  Is it possible that someone has really been hurt so badly that healing is a hard thing to do? Not all relationships involving people with commitment issues end badly.  The Relationship If you have made it to stage 2 with the Commitment Phobe then you are very lucky.  Wish he didn,t live so close-2miles very hard.  They say and do all the right things and they can be very romantic.  I actually lived that nightmare before: Desperation is the stink of death for relationships.  The older I get, the more chocolate I want.

How to Handle Commitment Your postings reflect you are doing marvelous growth on your own-congratulations! They will not ask you for anything and will definitely not ask you to make changes to yourself for ­their sake.  The challenge with posing this kind of question is you may get an extremely vague response or they might skillfully change the subject.  Commitment-phobes the chase but not the capture.  This doesnt always happen when you meet in person.  Relax… there is a cure for this strange phenomenon.  Some men just prefer to go really slowly getting to know a woman and start a relationship with her.  So easy to move on if you are not the one with your heart tied up.

10 Brutal Truths About Dating A Commitment Phobe They can be moody or aloof and blame the woman for why they're acting so bizarrely.  He said it was fate that we got this opportunity to meet and we are talking of spending as much time together as possible.  Today I want to save you from the heartbreaking experience of dating someone who will be tremendously difficult to ever get a satisfying committed relationship from.  What is behind the phobia of commitment? They may have an apartment but they may rarely stay there, preferring to stay at friend's places, with parents or ex-girlfriends.  You might be dating that guy you used to see hitting the bar hard, only interested in superficial connections and relationships with an expiration date.  A bar is not the place to meet a man who will commit.  I have had my heart broken many many times when he has broken up with me over en email.

When You Date A Commitment Phobe They have a history of brief, passionate relationships that end fairly quickly.  Exploit the mom loophole to his heart.  A guy with commitment issues may be reluctant to introduce you to his family, especially if he is a family man.  Guys with commitment issues hate thinking long term.  They start dressing better and maybe even losing their hair or going gray.  Desperation being the kiss of death.

How to Handle Commitment We ended up talking for twenty straight minutes.  Many of my clients lament their stories of getting to the second stage of dating, only to have the romantic rug pulled out from under them.  Even though many of the psychics here tell me he will be back in my life, they also told me it would be my decision if I take him back.  Two weeks later, he begged for me back and told me he would try a lot harder, but within a few weeks he still seeemed half-assed so we ended it again.  They use their charm and learned social skills to pursue you ardently until they win you over.  Because when you spend the majority of your adult life single, you like doing things your way, and these guys have major trouble with change.