#we sure do got them ayuh

[thesearchforbluejello]

Literally begging everyone to realize how funny it is that Haven is supposed to be so large because there are ONLY FOUR municipalities in Maine with a population of over 25k people: Portland, South Portland, Bangor, and Lewiston. Check the Wikipedia page and sort by population: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_municipalities_in_Maine

Look how long it takes you to scroll through the list of towns under 10,000. It's like the entire page.

Straight up the only reason it had to be that big is because in a town that's normal-sized for Maine, everybody knows everybody's business so there isn't enough room for secrets. You'd just be able to walk down the road and ask Brenda Frost what's up with Karen Bennett and she'd tell you 400 years of the Bennett family history like it was her own. Plus there would be like 10 Troubles max because everyone's either related or originally from Massachusetts.

Plus there's so little news in Maine that WMTW and WCSH would be camped out in Haven to get the latest scoop so the report didn't repeat every 15 minutes on the nightly broadcast.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Welcome to our weekly round-up! We do these every week to provide plot drops, highlight starters posted that week, and share other information about the setting. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points in starters, plots, anons etc. Also let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!

What’s new in town?:

As the moon in the sky waxes toward the second full moon of the month, the crystals around town have taken on a blue-ish glow and are having varying effects on those around. Check out our latest plot of the week for ways to interact!

A memorial garden has appeared downtown and while no one is really sure how it appeared, many locals have taken to leaving flowers at the memorials or throwing pennies into the fountain to make wishes.

Many of the trails at Wicked's Rest State Park are currently roped off due to what park rangers are calling 'unsafe conditions'. The conditions are in fact unsafe due to some trapdoors appearing along the trails.

To celebrate the nice weather that comes with the turn of the seasons, Sea Breeze Boathouse is offering a special: rent a boat or paddleboard, and your next rental is free. There's plenty of fun to be had with relatively little risk... but they did forget to paint the bottoms of some of their new boats, which means selkies might go ahead and tip them for fun. Or worse.

Residents of Deersprings have reported a disturbance tonight from none other than a screaming moose. Experts believe it to be the same one that wandered into Worm Row only weeks ago. As those impacted now set off to replace their windows, we asked Animal Control Officer Gary Henderson for his thoughts on the situation: "Ayuh, it's a loud one. We think the mining has disturbed their habitat so they're stomping into town. Lang-- I mean, we're on it." A local witness reported this particular moose may have had two heads.

Starters:

If you're looking to make money and not ask a lot of questions about the job, hit up Metzli

Winter is just trying to enjoy some Galaga and has questions about what the heck tetris nuggets are

If you need a good read, Regan is giving away several interesting titles

Old McMonty has a farm and dad jokes to boot so yeehaw on over and have a laugh

Mesphito's Repository is closing and Levi is hosting a blow out sale so hit it up for your own potentially cursed antique goods today

If you're into garden and want a new, maybe misshapen bed for your garden then Andy has got you covered

Do you need a job? Van's least favorite employee was fired so Sly Slice is hiring

If you're looking for a swim Teagan is highly recommending Darkling Lake so that's probably totally safe

Help Oliver settle a staff room debate and share your tales of watching someone swallow an egg whole today

If you have advice on not kidnapping someone to get them to leave town, send your tips to Siobhan

[murderousginger]

Gentle Giant

Arthur Shelby x reader

Word count: 1,708

Warnings: Adultery. Sex. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Requested by @caelys for this song.

You tried not to stare, but you failed every service. You resolved yourself to sitting opposite them in the circle of foldable chairs instead. Easier not to be seen breaking your neck over a married man, rising suspicions and idle gossip among the chickens.

The meetings were held in secret in the pastor's business. Quaker service was simple and pure. You all read the Bible together and discussed passages as the pastor mediated the flock if discussions got heated. Those of you with the urge could sing whatever the lord influenced you to. Or, you all sat in silence if no one felt compelled to talk.

You sang quite often. 

It soothed you and seemed to soothe others, so you were regularly called to sing at the beginning of the meeting.

You liked making others feel at ease and were often called on to welcome new members or talk to those that felt the need to talk to someone. 

As a widow, you often helped after service to put the chairs up or see to the children while their parents did the rounds of greeting others. You weren't there for the gossip or the social hierarchy that so many used these meetings for. You just liked being around similar minded people. 

And then Linda brought her husband around. 

They were dating at first. Arthur, following Linda around like a lost puppy with his hat wrung in his hands, was hard to ignore. His face was haggard in that same way most men that returned from the war was, but his eyes were soft. He kept his voice soft around everyone and often looked to the floor, but there was a sense of power hidden in his rough hands, his brow, his tense back. It was as if he was a lion hiding as a lamb in fear of being cast out.

Linda never particularly liked you; she never particularly liked anyone that she couldn't control or otherwise bend to her whims. She was a strong woman with a strong voice and the opinion it needed to be heard. You both stayed cordial but otherwise away from each other, but you couldn't help but be interested in him.

There were whispers. A Shelby, they said. Dangerous. 

But he didn't seem dangerous. He seemed lost. All too eager to follow Linda to whatever she dragged him into if it meant she continued smiling at him. 

He became a regular member, following Linda on her constant reach for more. You found yourself talking to him more than once as she made her rounds, and that's when you realized you cared about the quiet, strong man that was being overshadowed by his ambitious wife. 

Today, the smell of gunpowder and whiskey was stained on his clothes from the night before. His eyes still floated along as if he was half drunk. Linda held his arm in a vice grip as she dragged him along to make the rounds of greetings after service. Her smile was tight and never met her eyes. The honeymoon phase was well over.

"Y/N, so nice to see you!" Linda's voice raised in fake cheer. 

"And you, sister of the lord!" you answered back with equally fake cheer. "How are you both this morning? Late start?"

"Good!" Linda sung. "We are good. Nothing slips past you! Our resident songbird also has eagle eyes."

Your mouth fought to grimace at the dig, but you kept your smile plastered on.

"And you, Arthur?" you asked softly, ignoring Linda. "How did you find the service?"

"Your voice always brings out other's inner light to service, Y/N," he said with a smile. "It's a right beautiful way to start a Sunday."

You smiled, tucking your chin to your chest to hide your embarrassment at his comment. 

"Thank you."

"Really?" Linda said as she looked up to her husband. "Her voice always had a grit that I thought belonged in a nightclub rather than singing to angels. Oh look, let's go say hello to Mr. Peyton."

Linda dragged Arthur off by the arm as he shot you an apologetic look and you bit your cheek at her comment. His compliment bounced through your brain even as Linda's comment stung.

You started to gather the chairs, folding them and carrying a few at a time into the pastor's  office to pack away into a storage room. With almost 30 members, it would take almost a dozen trips to collect all of the chairs.

You turned around to make your way for another trip when the door swung open and Arthur came in with 4 or 5 chairs tucked under his arms.

"Thought you could use a hand," he said with a small smile. "Save you a few trips, songbird."

"That's very kind of you, Arthur," you smiled back. "Thank you."

You opened the storage door and let him set the chairs down with the rest. He patted himself, turning to you as you both stayed in the doorway.

"Sorta selfish, too," Arthur said hushed. "Helping you gets me out of the rounds today. I'm in no shape for pleasantries with Linda's friends."

You both chuckled.

"Well I won't tattle on you, Arthur," you chuckled. "It's not my cup of tea, either. That's why I offer to do these types of things. I like being helpful."

"It'll be our secret."

Your heart fluttered as he stood in the doorway with you, looking down on you with those soft, sad eyes. The whiskey made his breath hot and your mind race. You didn't want to think anymore.

You reached up on your toes and you kissed him, feeling him freeze under your touch. You pulled back to see a look of shock on his face but also a spark in his eye. 

"We shouldn't do this, love," he stammered, his hands finding your hips as you raised to your toes to meet his lips again. "I'm married to Linda. It's Sunday after a service. You're a good Christian woman."

"And you're a good Christian man," you replied as your hand found his chest. "You try to be, and that's all that God asks of us. It's Linda that demands more of you."

Arthur licked his lips and your eyes followed the movement for a moment as you bit your own. When you looked back into Arthur's eyes you noticed the spark grew brighter. 

"She's just trying to keep me from sin, love," he said hoarsely. "She's a good woman who took pity on a sinner and is trying to keep my soul saved."

"Or she's trying to control you, Arthur," you replied. "Just like your brothers do. I don't want to control you. I want to be beside you."

"What do you know of my brothers?"

You shrugged. 

"Church holds the spirit as well as a lot of gossip," you say. "Whatever they say about your business is not mine to judge you for. I only think that Linda is using the phrase 'love the sinner, hate the sin,' in the wrong way intended. Your inner light is valid."

"How old are you, songbird?" Arthur asks suddenly, his warm rough hand lightly caressing your cheek. "What do you want with an old man?"

"I'm two years older than Linda," you laugh as you press his hand into your cheek.

"You church girls always look so young," he murmured as you pressed closer to him. "Like sin ages a body."

"Kiss me, Arthur," you sighed. "You're stalling."

And he did. Hesitantly. Softly. His mustache tickled your nose but his lips were soft against yours. Your heart slowed, just like time did.

When a light sigh escaped your mouth -- the faintest moan of happiness -- Arthur's tongue grazed your lip and you happily allowed him access to explore.

His hands held onto you like you were an anchor. He pressed you backward out of the doorway until you were lifted clumsily onto the pastor's desk, knocking over a chair on the way. The noise made you both jump and freeze for a moment. Arthur's hands played at the hem of your skirt.

"We shouldn't," you said breathlessly. "Not here. Too many people could walk in."

Arthur kissed you again, trailing kisses to your ear and down your neck as his hands pushed your skirt higher. 

"We can be quick, songbird," Arthur growled into your neck. "An old man can make quick work of a beautiful lady."

"Arthur," you gasped as his fingers found their destination and he pushed your underwear to the side. 

Your head fell back as he pressed into you and growled into your chest. His hands gripped your hips roughly, surely causing bruises as he found a rhythm. 

"Say it again, love," he mumbled, pulling you back to the moment rather than being lost in the sensation. "Say m'name again, sweet like."

"Arthur," you said softly as you bit your lip. His thrust sharpened and you held onto him as your pleasure rose.

"Sounds like fuckin' music," he murmured.

"Arthur," you moaned louder before his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle the yell of passion you wanted to make as he got rougher. 

There it was, the beast that hid behind the softness. And he was glorious.

He buried his own head into the crook of your neck as you bit his hand and came, him following moments after. 

He stayed inside you, catching his breath over you before reluctantly stepping back and tucking himself away. 

"Can you find a reason to get away, Arthur?" You asked as you smoothed your shirt and stood up from the desk to straighten your skirt. "Can you visit me tonight?"

"Ayuh," Arthur nodded. His eyes looked clearer than before. "I'll tell Linda there's business and come round after dinner."

You nodded, guilt stinging you as he said her name. Your lip began to tremble as the realization set in.

"Hey," Arthur said, his finger tracing your lip. "None of that, love."

He kissed you softly, once again a lamb. 

"Tonight," he said as he kissed you. "We'll have time to be slow. Until you're hoarse from singing my name."

You smiled, feeling the bruises forming on your hips now that the thrill was over. 

"Tonight, then."

[jam-heathen]

dealer's choice pairing for "who hurt you?"

Did I already take a pass at the “who hurt you” prompt? Yep. Did I do it again anway? Yeah.  Did this get away from me? Big yes. Have I just been waiting for months to figure out a way to drop this song into a fic? Yes but the timeline also fits with the release of this song so who’s the real winner here?

_X_X_X_X_

The third text he gets from Whiskey is mildly concerning. “If you don’t come get your dman I will put all of your spices in the wrong bottles and steal your jam. This has been a warning.” Dex is at a study group though, and while he doesn’t exactly need their help at the moment he shouldn’t bail early just because. So he asks Chowder to check in, but less than a minute afterwards he gets “You should probably handle this one” in response.

Dex packs up his things, makes his excuses, and tries to not panic about what kind of trouble Nursey could get in that only he could handle. He’s clumsy, sure, but an injury doesn’t warrant cryptic texts or making Dex handle it. Nursey’s also a good person; there’s not anything offhand Dex can think of Nursey would do that requires a “captain talk”. He supposes Nursey could be considering quitting and joining the lacrosse team? Not that it would make sense— Nursey hates them as much as Shitty Ransom and Holster for the most part— but it would certainly make a conversation necessary. Maybe Nursey is joining an international mime community. Dex isn’t really sure those exist, but that’s probably something Whiskey and Chowder would be concerned about coming from out of the blue.

The real answer hits him as he heads through the front door of the Haus and up the stairs. The song itself is quite good, but it seems odd to hear it being blared through the speakers at two in the afternoon. It’s also not Derek’s typical brand of song, but as Will presses up against the door he can just make out Nursey singing under the guitar and main vocals. He’s singing softly at first until the second verse hits- “Would it be like back then? Then we could get back to a place that’s better than it has been. Lately I've been feeling like you might not like me. Like I might be too late. Like there might be other ladies in your limelight...”

Dex feels out of his depth here, quite frankly, and isn’t going in without more information. He knocks on Chowder’s door and  then heads in. The song finishes, and then loops back to play again.

“So uh... That’s happening.”

Chowder raises an eyebrow but doesn’t bother looking up from his laptop on his desk, seeming equal parts judgmental and sympathetic. “You’re in the wrong room to talk to Nursey about it.”

Okay, so the judgment won out. “Why do I have to do this exactly? And how long has this been going on?”

“An hour and change.”

Will leans against the door frame, more confused now than before. “So you’ve had plenty of time to figure this out and then just... didn’t.”

Chowder shrugs but still doesn’t look over. “We listened to the lyrics and talked about it. Seems like a captain's job, so off you go, captain.”

It’s fairly clear Will’s not going to get anymore out of this conversation so he heads to face the music— literally. 

The music stops and there’s a short silence before Nursey opens the door. “Sup, captain?”

“Hey, can I come in for a second?”

Nursey doesn't answer but leaves the door open as he makes his way back to the bottom bunk. It's become a habitual Nursey nest since Will moved down stairs, and it seems like it was being put to good use today.

Will feels awkward standing by the desk, but physical distance feels necessary for this conversation. "So... things are good, right?" 

Nursey puts his arms behind his head (maximizing chill as a defense mechanism if Will had to guess) and leans back. "I have never been better, brah."

"Okay, because the song on repeat seems like-"

Nursey's face immediately falls. "That. Was not playing through my headphones."

"Uh, no. Sorry."

"Right. That would explain why the volume needed to be that loud."

"Ayuh, I guess. But Whiskey and Chowder wanted me to come talk to you? And I don't really know why or like who hurt you if that's whole deal is about a person—"

Which is apparently the wrong thing to say because Nursey goes from looking vaguely embarrassed to enraged. “Oh, fuck all the way off. If Chowder and Whiskey had to send you in here you know damn well—”

“Woah, hey,” Will throws his hands up in a placating motion. “I swear to you I have no idea what’s going on. But like if you want to talk about it? Got your back? I’m kind of out of my depth here, but I want to help.”

Nursey looks skeptical for a while before letting out a deflated sigh. He looks up at the underside of the bunk determined not to make eye contact. “I have been attempting to spend the afternoon processing my unrequited feelings for you in peace, fucked up royally, and am now being made to talk about it by two surprising contenders for the worst meddlers in my life.”

Dex takes a moment to run that through his head again, because it doesn’t really add up. Nursey’s way out of his league and also not exactly known for pining. On the other hand, though, Dex knows him; Nursey really doesn’t seem like he’s lying right now. Screw it; bravery calls for bravery, right?  “Alright, one, we should learn to fucking communicate better, because you can’t just go around deciding you have unrequited feelings when they’re mutual. Two, you should probably let Whiskey and Chowder know you’re good. And three, do you maybe want to get dinner tonight? As a date?”

[songsofloretto]

"Matthew O'Driscoll! What a delight!"

"Yes, hello. Nice to see you again. Er...bit of an issue I have to raise with you I'm afraid."

"No problem. God it's nice to feel you giving me some energy."

"Well that's the problem you see. Kate, Nicky, Deaglan, Kieran and Ginny have appointed me, as your main character, to be the spokesman to tell you that you've neglected us of late."

"I have?!"

"In favour of a couple of priests you didn't even invent yourself. I don't wish to be rude, Loretto, but c'mon. That is some half-arsed writing. No character invention, no development. You don't even have to inject your own humour. And the filth! God it makes me blush and I'm no prude."

"You had enough of your own sex scenes, Mr."

"Not ones as explicit as those! Anyway this FanFic business has got to stop. It's lazy and it's time you remembered your real characters. The ones who flow through you onto the paper. You are our only conduit and we're tired of being in the waiting room."

"I'm enjoying the FanFic, Matty. And I'm going to carry on with it until I stop enjoying it. You're just here to make me feel guilty about not doing any original work."

"No I'm just reminding you that we're here."

"I haven't forgotten you. I've tons of ideas!! I'm just waiting on some inspiration for a good opening line. And the identity of Deaglan's mother. Oh and wether Kieran decides to turn over a new leaf now that he's in prison or if he's still a complete bastard."

"What? He's...he's Kieran!! He'll always be a complete bastard! WTF, I can't believe you're wasting time pondering about that."

"I thought I'd explore his softer side."

"He hasn't got one. Next question."

"Why has Nicky suddenly decided to tell me he's a vegetarian? I love Nicky, I hate vegetarians. Why does he have to challenge me like that?"

"Because he's a lovably awkward prick. He was born a contrarian. He gets that from Kate by the way, not me."

"No Matthew, he gets it from you. Doesn't he?"

"Ayuh. Suppose so."

"While you're here you can help me with something I'm stuck on. Who is Deaglan's mother?"

"Ahh yeah, that. She's coming to you. Don't worry."

"Good because it's driving me nuts that I don't know what who she is yet."

"Don't think too hard about it. You know the golden rule of writing. The best ideas come when you're not overthinking them. So don't think about them and then we'll choose the right moment to tell you. Like when you're in the shower, for example."

"About that. Why do you all always come thick and fast with the inspiration when I'm in the shower? Or driving? Or trying to sleep? Or in fact anywhere but in front of my laptop?"

"I don't know. That's just how it works."

"Right."

"This is hard work you know."

"What?"

"Sitting around, waiting for you to turn me into a murderer. I'm a good man. Knowing I'm going to kill my best friend makes me anxious."

"Don't be nervous, Matthew. I'll make sure people understand why you did it."

"I know but still. Just hurry up and get on with it. When was the last time you wrote for us?"

"Umm...March?"

"Exactly. You've a sequel to write and we are impatient to be written!"

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry! But really, you lot write yourselves. I'm just your typist 🤷‍♀️"

@rickedsab I still can't work out how to directly reply to any of your comments! 🤣

Matthew is my main protagonist. He's an Irish policeman, tough, strong, kind, strives to be a good father and is perpetually haunted by his own internal conflicts.

He's also very demanding and forever throwing me new aspects of his character so I have to keep going back on myself to weave in his eccentricities. He drives me nuts, he inspires me, he fills me with creative excitement, he makes me laugh and he makes me mad with frustration but I do love him 😍

I need to get on with the sequel to my novel but I can't while I'm so hyptonised by our priests. Meanwhile Matthew and the other original characters are still throwing me inspiration and sulking because I'm not writing their story 🤣

I will get on with it...eventually. You just have to go with whatever is in your heart in the moment 🤷‍♀️ Xx

[kenzieam]

Destroyed - Chapter Two (Chris X Raen)

Rating: M

Warnings: Violence, language, drama, angst

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

@iammarylastar​​​​ @captstefanbrandt​​​​ @jewels2876​​​​ @moonbeambucky​​​​​ @badassbaker​​​​ @everythingisoverrated​​​​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​ @oliviastan17​​​ @igothroughphasesalot​

I KNOW I’M MISSING TAGS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN

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

Chris watched for her the next day, his old nervous habit of rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb becoming a prominent action again. Even Al, the steady, reliable old man who came with the shop, and was at least 10 years past retirement, but kept showing up everyday anyway, noticed Chris’ edginess.

“What’s go ‘choo so worked up, boss?” Al had accepted the change of ownership, and employer, seemingly without batting an eye and, as far as Chris cared to remember, had never addressed him as anything but ‘boss’, even before he truly was. He’d shuffled through the bays and sat noisily on an old cane chair designated as his ‘spot’ while Chris tinkered absently under the hood of the Adler’s van. He knew the problem, but getting to it was a bitch, if only because his mind was constantly elsewhere this morning. All night his thoughts had drifted, coming around again and again to the mysterious Raen.

Chris made a noncommittal sound.

“It’s that girl, ain’t it?” Sharp gimlet eyes under bushy brows flicked his way then off across the shop and the old man coughed noisily as he dragged on a home-rolled, pulling the cigarette away from pursed lips with grease-stained fingertips.

When Chris didn’t answer, because he didn’t know what to say, Al continued.

“She’s got a story, ayuh. See it in the way she watches everythin’. Girl’s been mistreated.”

Chris’ heart thumped painfully in his chest. He suspected as much, and it killed him.

“A damned shame, fine young thing like that.” Al grumbled, pinching off the last of the cigarette and flicking it into the nearest ashtray. “Needs a good man, that one. One that’ll love her, not hurt her.”

Chris wondered irritably if Al was directly needling him, or just rambling as the old Maine transplant seemed to sometimes do. He’d never come out and say anything, but Chris knew the old man had a dim view of Chris’ relationships, or lack thereof, since moving to town.

Commitment got you hurt, commitment got you shot and bleeding out on a dirty industrial carpet. Commitment got you compromising your morals for another’s selfish ambitions; and when the anguish of Erin’s final betrayal over their unborn child had eclipsed the unending agony of his damaged body, he’d closed that door forever, barring it against any future treachery. As he returned to the van, last night’s events trickled back into his reluctant mind. He didn’t want to think about what happened, but it seemed his thoughts were intent on doing their own thing anymore.

A: You up for some fun tonite?

The text stared back at Chris as he read it, but the familiar stirring in his groin never came. Annette was one of his hook-ups, one of his ‘acquaintances with benefits’ that he’d accumulated since moving here and while he would have been DTF even earlier today, the introduction of Raen into his life this morning had completely tangled him up.

A: You going to give me that cock? I want it deep and hard tonite.

Her dirty talk usually enflamed him, stoked a fire deep in his belly that, while not personally encompassing, was fun to ride but tonight it stirred nothing.

C: Not tonight, Nettie.

The reply took so long to come that Chris started to think that it wasn’t.

A: What’s up with you? You’ve never said no before.

It was true, he hadn’t; and they’d had some wild times, but they had been empty, a physical release for two people too gun-shy to give anything but their bodies to each other. Chris had never spent the night, nor had she, always climbing out of the tangled sheets in the dark of night to go home, the restlessness inside temporarily sated.

A: You got another?

Chris frowned at the screen.

C: Always did, we’ve never been exclusive.

A: We can share again. Remember July 4th last year? You had enough for three of us.

The thought soured his stomach. He didn’t want to be reminded of the debauchery he’d been a willing part of in the past, it made him feel polluted now, unclean and unworthy of a certain auburn-haired woman.

C: No.

A: She suck you off better? Can she deep-throat you like me?

A brief flash of memory, Chris in a ratty armchair, leaning back, legs spread. Annette on her knees in front of him, her lips around his cock, cheeks hollowed as she worked, gagging on his length, that familiar tightening in his sac telling him he was close, his rapid groans and fluttering eyelids telling her the same thing. Bliss and release, pulse and throb.

C: Just drop it. Then the coup-de-grace, the killing blow. We’re done, Nettie. I don’t want it anymore.

A: You bastard.

Chris winced.

C: It’s never been a secret; this was just a fling. No feelings, remember?

A: Whatever.

The faint burn of shame made him shift uneasily on his couch, the shoot-em-up movie blaring from his TV only a distant buzz in his addled mind. What the fuck? Had he just gotten rid of Annette, with the no-questions-asked open door policy for his cock? And for what? A three-minute conversation that ended when the woman had literally ran from him? What was it about Raen Casteel that possessed him so?

He didn’t want to, one part of his mind screamed for mercy, but the rest dove in anyway as he let himself think about her. The pull was undeniable, the air between them charged. He didn’t like seeing her timid like that though, it didn’t fit her, she needed confidence and self-assurance.

But damn, she was just about perfect every other way.

His type used to be like Erin; thin, an almost boyish lack of curves but that preference had disappeared along with his desire for her; his tastes had definitely evolved. Now his body craved curves; soft peaks and valleys; silky, supple flesh to fill his hands and mouth; a woman’s body. Raen’s fitted jeans had hugged every lush curve today, showcased her hourglass figure and Chris had swallowed hard at first sight, fighting his body’s response.

“Boss.” Al’s voice broke into his thoughts and Chris jolted, clearing his throat, glancing over at the old man in time to see him jerk his chin to the outside.

Chris followed his indication, pulse jumping as his gaze landed on Raen. She was approaching the shop, clutching her tote to her side, eyes roving like she expected assassins to leap out from behind a tree or parked car.

Al tutted again in displeasure, flicking his rheumy eyes up to Chris’. “Bastard.” He grunted and Chris could only jerk his head in terse agreement.

Wiping his hands on a rag, he hurried into the front of the shop, reaching it just as Raen entered the building, sidling up behind the counter and pressing his palms firmly down onto it to hide the shaking of his hands.

“Hi,” he offered uncertainly, feeling unaccustomedly shy.

“Hello,” she replied quietly, a small, tentative smile on her face and Chris couldn’t stop a wide, relieved grin from splitting his face. The sight made her blush slightly and look down.

Clearing his throat, Chris grabbed her paperwork and keys. “It was the alternator,” he explained, hurrying to assuage her nervousness, “I did have the right one, so it was an easy fix. Your battery is fine, too.”

“What do I owe you?”

Chris had battled with himself all day about this, he wanted to say ‘nothing’ but he had a sense that wouldn’t fly with this woman. She never wanted to feel like she owed someone, like they were trying to hold a favor over her head; so he named a simple figure, one that would barely cover the cost of the part and only half the labor.

She stared at him for a moment, as if seeing right through him, noticing his fixing of the price, his struggle to hold off on not charging her at all; he had the sense that she was weighing him and he hoped to god she didn’t find him wanting.

“Okay, thank you.” She replied, pulling out her wallet. The flash in her eyes told him she knew she was underpaying and even now was thinking about demanding a higher fee, anything to avoid feeling indebted.

“No strings, I promise.”

Another flash, like she’d heard that line before too. “Sure.”

Chris grinned nervously, feeling like a wrong-footed junior fumbling through his first high-school romance, trying to woo a wiser, older senior who’d deigned to pause and listen to his babbling.

She handed over the cash and Chris signed the invoice PAID IN FULL, handing the top copy to her. She took it almost gingerly, then accepted the keys he passed her next. “Thank you.” She sounded nervous again, hesitant.

“Anytime.” Chris replied, a sharp pang building in his chest. He couldn’t let her walk away again. “Wait.”

She’d already moved to the door, stopping and turning back to look at him, her gaze shuttered.

“Can we… I mean I’d love to take you out to dinner sometime, please?”

She flinched, and for a half-second Chris saw regret in her eyes. She wanted to say yes but just…. couldn’t.

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

Crushing rejection, which Chris fought to hide with a neutral smile. “Some other time, then.”

“No, thank you.” Her eyes were apologetic, but unyielding. They flicked up to his once more, seemed to plead with him to understand she couldn’t stand to be pushed about this, not now, then backed out of the door and turned sharply, disappearing from Chris’ line of sight. A few moments later he heard the Land Cruiser start and accelerate away.

He slumped forwards, resting his forearms on the counter and dropping his forehead to his clasped hands, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He didn’t want this to be the end, but he also didn’t want to push her.

What do you do when the person you want doesn’t want you back?

After a pause he exhaled and pushed upwards with a groan, returning to the Adler’s van with a heavy heart.

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

One Month Later

She hadn’t come back and Chris hadn’t seen her anywhere around town.

He still thought about her, though. Constantly. His interest in Raen never waned, never wavered. He wondered how she was doing, was she still scared? Was she still timid? As time passed Christ began to worry that it had been something about him that warned her away, some spectre of his past that had hovered over his shoulder unseen and made her wary, whispered caution in her ears.

He’d cut off all his hook-ups, his stomach souring every time he thought about the meaningless, mindless sex he’d indulged in, the way he’d used those women, whether they knew it or not; whether the using had been mutual or not.

Any release he allowed now was self-inflicted, images of Raen’s haunting eyes as he stroked himself in the shower, hand pressed to the wall as he bowed forwards into his fist, her name falling from his lips as he came, his seed pulsing thickly over his hand, spurting against the wall before washing down the drain; his legs shaking slightly, muscles trembling as he remembered her intoxicating stare, the sweet curves he’d not gotten a chance to worship.

Today he let a customer and friend, a man named Harrison, take him out for lunch as thanks for working on his daughter’s car. She’d ‘missed’ the warning lights telling her she was overdue for an oil change and nearly taken the engine out of it, if Harrison himself hadn’t checked the dipstick out of curiosity and noticed the bare metal, the telltale faint smell of burning.

Chris had saved the engine, sparing Harrison thousands of dollars and he was understandably relieved, while still furious with his offspring for being such a teenager and chewing the poor girl out until she was almost in tears, until Chris had intervened with a smile and joke, calming both parties down. Young Emma had roared away in her repaired car with a wave and a smile, leaving both men standing at the shop still slightly stunned by the resilience of youth, until Harrison had clapped his hands together and announced he was taking Chris out for lunch.

Al was invited as well and declined. He had a fetish for meatloaf sandwiches, and an endless supply it seemed, of leftover meatloaf to indulge that fetish with, and was perfectly happy to stretch out in his cane chair that he’d pull outside the bays and watch the ‘flatlanders’ as he called them walk by, as if he was still back in Maine.

It didn’t occur to Chris to ask where Harrison was taking him until he realized they weren’t heading over to their usual diner.

“Where we going?” Hopefully nowhere fancy, Chris was in simple jeans and a t-shirt.

“The Bend.” Harrison replied. “They have a damn good lunch, didn’t you know?”

“Yeah, I heard, always just drank here though.” Everyone in town knew the bar opened at noon and served good hot food, but he’d never gone there before dark, and never for anything but liquor and maybe wings and a hook-up.

“Oh brother, you’ve been missing out.”

It wasn’t until Chris stepped inside behind Harrison that he staggered, bumping into the man in front of him.

“Hey dick, first time with the new legs?” Harrison joked but Chris didn’t even hear him.

“Earth to asshole.” Harrison chuckled as he walked slowly to a table, watching Chris as if he worried for the man’s sanity.

Chris cleared his throat and hurried to the table, a faint sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“What the hell, man? Seen a ghost?” Harrison sounded concerned now. He followed Chris’ eye when he glanced back over his shoulder, then whistled low in his throat. “Oh, that’s what you’re tripping over. That redheaded waitress? Yeah, she looks pretty good, doesn’t she? Got a pants-busting crush?”

Chris glared daggers at his friend, silencing him with an easy chuckle. “Alright, down boy. I’m married anyway, but you go ahead, see if she’ll throw your sorry ass a pity fuck.”

Any other girl and Chris would have laughed, would have fingered Harrison with an eye roll and playful sneer, but not Raen.

“Shut up, leave her alone.”

Harrison held up his hands, eyes flashing with surprise. “Alright, chill man. Peace.” Eyeing Chris for a beat he grabbed one of the menus from its perch in the condiment tray, throwing him one last glance before settling down to read.

Chris’ heart raced in his chest. He’d not asked Raen where she worked, and he’d not come to The Bend in the last few months. And, despite his desperately wanting to, he’d not let himself call the cell number she’d left ; he was a lot of things, and all twisted up over this woman was one of them, but he couldn’t let her think he was some sort of stalker.

So, this is where she’d been.

Surprise and something else flashed in her lilac-grey eyes as she approached the table and Chris flicked an anxious glance her way. But she seemed determined to pretend that she didn’t know him, that she wasn’t affected by him the way he was with her.

“Hello boys,” her voice was easy, but empty. This was a job and she held her cards close. “What can I get you?”

Harrison eyed Chris for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of teasing the man further, maybe flirting with the redhead or bringing up Chris’ obvious nerves, but he valued him as a friend and as a mechanic able to save him money when his child ignored warning lights too much to push; besides, in the four plus years he’d known Chris, he’d never seen the man so honestly and simply entranced by a woman before.

“Just a Coke for me, please.”

She nodded. “And you?” She asked quietly, her head turned to Chris but her eyes on her small notepad.

“Uh…” Chris’ tongue lolled uselessly in his mouth like a dead fish. What the fuck. “Water, please.”

Faint color in her cheeks. “And are you ready to order?”

Yes. Jesus God, doll. I want you. Only you.

Chris bit his tongue, hard as the Fruedian slip almost fell out and glanced at Harrison for help.

The other man eyed his friend for a beat curiously before turning his attention back to Raen. “Double pizza burger and fries, thanks. And can I have extra sauce on the side?”

“Sure.” Raen answered, scrawling the order. “The cook likes his onions; do you want those?”

Harrison made a face. “No, thanks. And thanks for checking.”

She gifted him with a small smile before turning her heavenly attention at Chris, who still wasn’t able to speak normally, his heart still racing like thoroughbred in his chest. “Cheeseburger, medium and onion rings. Thanks, Raen.” Her name slipped out like it was perfectly normal for him to address her so casually, like they were perhaps even friends and it was hard to say whose cheeks went redder. She scribbled on her pad then nodded shyly before taking off like Harrison had set fire to her apron and the man huffed an incredulous breath.

“Jesus, man. You got it bad, and so does she.”

“Really?” A desperate hope clawed in Chris’ chest. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

Harrison raised a brow and shook his head. “I wouldn’t, and yeah. She’s fighting it, sure; but she’s watching you just as close as you’re looking at her…. What’s the story there, my friend? Never seen you anything but confident with a woman before.”

Those women don’t count. I felt nothing for them. Raen is different.

“She’s different. She came in last month with car trouble, I asked her out and she said no. I’ve been looking for her ever since.”

Harrison nodded; bottom lip pooched out in thought. “You got your work cut out for you. You actually going to settle with just one? I mean-“

“There’s no one else. Not anymore.” Chris hissed, anger flaring in his chest. God, what he wouldn’t give to erase that part of his history. Did Raen know? Talk was cheap, had she already been warned away from him by other women? Stay away from Chris King, he’s got hook-ups all over town. Man’s never going to be faithful to one woman.

“Here you go.” Raen had returned, setting down their drinks. Chris was too conflicted right now to raise his head, too many emotions racing through his eyes, if he looked up, he’d just scare her away. The anger in his stare wasn’t for her, but she’d think it was.

“Thanks.” Harrison replied for them both and Chris could only exhale long and raggedly after Raen turned and walked away again.

[zedecksiew]

The Otter

Here’s a -- personal essay, I guess? I performed this 22 November 2019 for Sweatheart, a monthly-ish storytelling night held at Lit Books.

The night’s theme was “tomayto! tomahto!”, so I thought I’d talk about language. And also otters.

+++

THE OTTER

There is an animal in my head. It is an otter.

Did you know that we have otters, here? There are several species native to Malaysia. I didn’t know this until about three years ago! I’d known of the Malay word “memerang”, and that it meant “otter”, but never consciously made the connection --

“Memerang” means “otter”.

Anyway. There’s an otter in my head. I can see her so clearly: her brown-black coat, wet and sleek; her whiskered face, her webbed feet; she chirps and she sings and she wants to slip onto a fisherman’s boat, wants to steal some bait, wants then slip away again.

She peers through my eyes. She cannot squeeze through. She paws through the cage-door of my teeth. She cannot lift the latch on my mouth. She starts to run in a panic -- circles-circles -- a trapped animal. Rattling, shaking my skull. She screams.

The otter, trapped; the otter that cannot get out --

For me, this is what writing and speaking in Bahasa Melayu is like.

+

Hi. I’m Zedeck Siew. I’m a writer from Port Dickson. I write fiction; with my partner the visual artist Sharon Chin, I wrote a book called “Creatures of Near Kingdoms”.

“Creatures of Near Kingdoms” is a bestiary, a herbiary: a collection of seventy-five animals and plants I imagine living in Southeast Asia.

I write in English -- it is my first language -- so the book I wrote is in English. But I’d originally dreamed of it as a bilingual work. Early this year, I applied for -- and received! -- a small grant, to translate Creatures of Near Kingdoms into Bahasa Melayu.

I decided to translate the book myself. This was not the smartest decision, in retrospect? I am now four months past my original deadline. I am stuck.

I have had seventy-five otters in my head. Some of them still cannot get out.

+

It is not like I don’t know Bahasa Melayu. I went to kebangsaan school.

But, like many urban, non-Malay middle-class persons: done with SPM, I would head to college, or maybe uni overseas -- actually I just started working here -- the thing is, I thought I was going places.

I put the otter into the carrier cage of my head. I wanted to travel, you see?

And I do travel. Australia and Singapore, where my siblings now live --

But also from Subang to Taman Tun to Damansara Heights to Uptown; from neighbourhood, to mall, to cafe, to bookstore. From Twitter to The Guardian to n+1.

If you are of a particular background, of a particular class, you can live on English alone.

You don’t need Bahasa.

+

It’s not like school prepares you, anyway.

The basics of Bahasa Melayu are easy. But so much of common-use Bahasa is context as much as text. There are no tenses, so time is less obvious. And the pronoun “dia” could refer to a person of any gender; an animal; an object.

Spoken Bahasa is all about efficiency: “Makan? Makan? Makan.”

Written Bahasa tends to run-on sentences, a half-dozen clauses linked together, stringing disparate thoughts along, charting orbits instead of straightforward meaning.

It is a quickly-evolving, shifting thing. A language of cues. And, exactly for this reason, if you don’t use it every day? 

Very easy to tell.

Aku switch kejap ke BM. Bagi korang dengar BM aku ni macam mana. Rasanya dulu kat sekolah BM aku macam ni lah. Tapi even now bila aku dengar kata-kata yang keluar mulut aku ni, aku rasa tak sedap. Tak petah. Either sebab gagap, or skema sangat.

Just so -- so poyo!

When I locked up my otter it was so very easy to lose the key.

+

The question then is: why? Why Bahasa?

Why not stick to English? It is the language of success, after all. It will get you anywhere that matters.

It is an advantage. Why take the trouble, just to be at a disadvantage? To be vulnerable?

Not being proficient in the tongue of your homeland is embarrassing. I’ve had people laugh at me, judge me. Kata Orang Malaysia. Tapi cakap Bahasa Malaysia tak boleh.

The language divide is a chasm. It shelters ethnic and material resentments. Ultra-nationalists say that those who cakap omputeh are traitors.

I’m sure most people in this room have, at some point or other, sniggered at the broken English of a Vernacular or Kebangsaan Ed person.

I still get cabbies and Grab uncles asking me: “You don’t speak Chinese? You not Chinese? Why you not proud of being Chinese?”

Like an apartment cat, like a loris in a zoo -- it’s safer inside, dear otter. The air is air-conditioned and the bars are plexiglass.

+

Amat mudah untuk berpidato; mengangkat senjata kata-kata:

“Jurang antara Bahasa Inggeris dan Bahasa Melayu adalah jurang antara bangsa, dan juga antara kelas. Ia membahagikan masyarakat kita kepada puak-puak kecil yang makin lama, makin hilang upaya untuk bertegur sapa sesama sendiri.

Menjadi tanggung-jawab setiap warga Malaysia untuk merentasi jurang ini. Membina jambatan di antara hati-hati dan minda-minda yang kian lama bercanggah. Menjadi kewajiban kita!

Sanggupkah kita menyahut seruan ini? Mengambil langkah menyelamatkan negara tercinta?

Ayuh -- berjuang!”

+

Tapi aku tak ingin berjuang. Aku hanya ingin pecah kunci sangkar kepala aku ini. Lepaskan memerang yang terjerat.

I hear her scratch whenever I talk to my gardener, to the Indonesian auntie at the warung, to the Bangladeshi cleaning the mall lavatory, using the lingua -- the bahasa -- of the working class.

I hear her whimper when I switch to BM to speak to Immigration; the abang polis; the kakak at the post office. Language deployed as a cynical simulation of kinship, to make my life easier.

I don’t know whether you have an otter. I only know that I do. I locked her up: for her safety; because it was simpler. Through my eyes she sees the green and the birds of the place she was born.

I feel her hands touch the inside bone of my skull -- touch, touch, touch.

Telling me she wants to be free. To chatter with her children. To eat fish she catches herself. To swim in the waters of her home.

+++

I’ve spoken about writing in and translating Bahasa Melayu, before -- why I think it’s an important thing to do; what I think it means, to be a multi-lingual writer in Malaysia -- 

Before this, it’s always come off as a bit self-righteous. A little lecture-y?

But I think I’ve got it, now. The most truthful way to talk about Bahasa is to talk about my relationship to Bahasa.

What it’s like. How I see it. How difficult I find it, how bad I am at it. How badly I want it. How badly I want the vulnerable animal in me to be free.

(Photo by Lainie Yeoh)

[srprincess]

Remember Fictober? I know it’s December now, and October seems a year away but I’m still here! Updating slowly!

Prompt 19 “Yes, I admit it, you were right.”

Check Please Spookydoo fic Chapter 14 (14?!?)

There was a buzz of conversation in the kitchen. Right up until Will and Nursey walked back into it. Then it was replaced by sudden silence and eyes glued down at phones, or whatever else is handy. In Holster’s case a calendar, two years out of date, that Will never got around to replacing or removing from its spot by the doorway. His lighthouse was December, and he figured he was entitled to keep it up.

“Real subtle,” Nursey said before dropping to a mock whisper directed at Will. ”They think we don't know they've been talking about us this whole time.”

Will choked back a snort of laughter.

 After an exchange of somewhat guilty looks, Chowder was the first one who braved breaking the silence, “All right again?”

“Uh, yeah. About that,” embarrassed, Will rubbed the back of his neck. A nervous habit, one he’d never managed to shake. ”I’m sorry for blowing up on you guys. That was - not good. At all. So, yeah. Sorry.”

They tried to assure him it was fine, but he knew better and told them as much. “You guys can't help that you pushed too hard, when I never let on that I was that upset. If I had said, I don’t know, it might have been different. But I didn't and that's on me.”

“That may be so, but we need to do better too,” Bitty said before pushing a plate full of crumble at him.

Will’s mouth quirks, ”I feel like we've fallen into this cycle where you shove food at me, I tell you that you didn't have to-”

”And then you sit and eat it anyhow. Glad you've caught up to the program. Now sit, eat.” Bitty says, sticking the fork in and stepping back.

”Only on the condition that we drop the ’who’s more sorry than who’ contest.”

”And if I don't agree and take back your dessert?”

”All I have to do is-” Will smirked and held the plate over his head, out of Bitty’s reach. Pretty pleased with himself, he did not expect the quick hip check and nearly dropped the plate, allowing Bitty to easily grab hold of it again.

Calls of ’Niiiiice!’ ’Check that out!’ and ’Get it Bits!’ came from the others.

”You were saying?” asked a, justifiably smug, Bitty.

”I’m sorry, you're sorry, everyone is sorry. Can I have my dessert back, please and thank you?” Will answered, holding his hands out hopefully.

Bitty handed the plate back. ”Figure we’re about even now, agreed?”

Will nodded his agreement and dug in on his cobbler before it could be taken away again.

 He only managed a couple bites before Jack stood and spoke up, ”I have to say, we do owe you one more apology.”

”Sweetpea, he just said-"

“No Bits, I’ve been thinking about it. Sometimes we get wrapped up in the whole story that we’re chasing - and this is a great story - but we forget these are actual people and that’s not right. Look what we've been doing here.” Jack motioned to the rest of his friends sprawled out around the kitchen and dining area. ”Here we sit in his home, where we practically pushed our way in. We’re digging through his family, questioning him about his friends. Uninvited,” Will tried to interrupt, but Jack carried on like he had a set speech in his head and nothing was going to stop him. ”He couldn't be more of a private person. Lives out here alone, practically on the edge of the country. We were literally told to leave him be. And here we are anyway. Over something that happened long before he was even born. It's one thing when we choose public life, but even then - think if someone came to ours poking around,” Jack visibly shuddered at the thought, ”I don’t even want to think about it. But you know that a little yelling and a door slam would just be the start. What we have done is worse than that, because he never made that choice.” Jack turned back to Will, ”Barging in here and putting demands on you was wrong, and I am - no, we are - very sorry for how we have acted and how we upset you.”  

After a pause - because what was he supposed to say to all of that? - Will went with a, very true, observation. ”I think that’s the most words I’ve heard you say yet.”

”That’s it? That’s your takeaway? You don't want to tell us off or to leave, or- ” Jack replied, seeming surprised.

”Ayuh, that and I’m still sorry. I should have said it was bothering me instead of letting it all build up bigger than it was and then blowing. And you're wrong. You might have showed up on your own, but I did both invite you in and offer to help. Yelling and storming off? That’s no way to be.” He’d been told off for his temper often enough over the years that he didn't have to think too hard before the echo of lectures past came back to him. He thought maybe it had gotten better but that night showed him it might have had more to do with the lack of other people to rage at than personal growth.

Jack seemed mostly relieved, but, ”-you aren’t going to ask anything else?”

Will, unsure where Jack was going with the question, replayed the, for lack of a better word, speech through in his head. ”The public life thing?” Jack nodded, and so he asked, ”I mean, I guess - Should I know you?”

Jack frowned, “I don’t want to say it like that, sounds, ugh.”

Holster pointed out, ”I'm pretty sure that's the kind of question you would have to punch yourself in the face for answering yes to.”

“Yeah, would have to ask Shitty, but I think it's in the revised bylaws,” Ransom added.

“Well, in any case, if you wanted me to know you’d tell me so I don’t see where it matters. You want privacy and if there’s anyone that should know to respect that, it’s me. So, there we go.” Will told Jack, letting him off the hook. Pointing at his plate, he asked, “Now can I enjoy the rest of this?”

 After that everyone settled, and conversation went back to what seemed to be normal. Mix of random chitchat and plans for the rest of the trip. It was comfortable, the house seeming more lived in than it had for ages. Will couldn't help but think, not for the first time, how quiet it was going to be when they left. He’d gotten used to this so quickly and, even with the hiccups, thought he would be sorry to see it end.

Almost on cue, Farmer yawned and said “We should probably be headed out here soon. Getting late.”

“You aren’t waiting for the others?” Will asked.

”Shitty and Lardo?”

He nodded, ”Unless you have any other spare friends hiding around here somewhere.”

”Not that we brought with us!” Chowder helpfully - maybe even cheerfully? - answered. “They checked in while you two were, um, out. They’re camping for the night. Said they’d see us for breakfast.”

“Oh alright then. Did you still want to meet up tomorrow afternoon?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ransom told him. ”That’ll give us time to check on a few things. I saved a sat image from Maps and circled your neighbor’s place.  The realtor isn’t open until 10 am according to their site, but once they are I'm going to send that in and see what they can tell me.”

”Okay, and Nurse and I are headed to the cottage first daylight. I'm sure I’ll be back here long before you guys are done.”

“First light?” Derek asked mournfully.

“First light-ish.” Will compromised.

“First light plus time for leftover pizza and two coffees?”

“Fine, but clean off the counters set the pot up now.”

”This is practically domestic,”  came a whisper from somewhere in the direction on the table. Will wasn't sure from who exactly, because he was distracted by the clear up. Once the others started gathering their things, he moved on to hooking some of his lights up to their respective chargers and checking batteries in the rest. He left the borrowed vests and coats in a pile by the back closet for Future Will to deal with. He might like things relatively tidy, but he was no saint and it had been a night.

 Just as Will was finishing that up, he heard Jack calling from the front door to ask if everyone was ready.

”Not quite,” Bitty told him. “Nursey still needs his shoes and coat.”

”Uh, actually...I’m staying. Dex asked.”

Will peeked around the corner just in time to see Bitty’s eyebrows hit his hairline, and - was that a blush dusting Nursey’s cheeks? Hard to say from that far away, but he let himself think that maybe he wasn't entirely off the mark then with those looks he thought he saw? Interesting. Something to think about. Something to obsess over and probably a reason kick himself when remembering fast he backtracked when he asked him over earlier.

Even straining his ears, he couldn't hear what Bitty said next, but Nursey told him ”Oh my God, just go,” and pushed him out the door, laughing.

“What was that about?” Will asked, after joining him at the door and sliding the lock.

“You don’t even want to know,” Nursey told him. “You tired yet?”

“I know I should be, and I’ll regret this come morning but...Not really?”

“Same. I could stand some cleaning up though. About those clothes you said I could borrow-”

“Oh yeah, let me just go and grab them.“

 Nursey followed him down the hall to his room. After a quick dig through the drawers, Will handed over another worn in t-shirt and a pair of flannel plants.

Nursey held up the shirt, ”Are you sure I didn't return those clothes?”

”Yep.”

“I only ask, because I would swear this is the same one you loaned me last time.”

”Promise. The shirts were on sale, and I liked ’em well enough I bought a stack.”

”You bought a stack. A stack of shirts. Identical?” Will nodded, and Nursey shook his head. ”You buy your clothes by the pile. That is - I don't even know, ” he laughed. “It's either the funniest or saddest thing I've ever heard, and I'm not sure which.”

Annoyed, Will tried, too slowly, to grab the shirt back, “If you're too good for my shirts-”

“Chill, it's just chirpin’,” Nursey told him, already headed to the bathroom across the hall.

Will suspected chirping was actually code for trying to piss him off, but let it go anyway.  No point in shouting at a door. He grabbed his own change of clothes, another pair of flannel pants and yes another matching shirt. He thought about grabbing a different one, but these were already broken in and comfortable, damn it.

By the time he was done with his own shower, Nursey had already finished and was back in the living room checking out his shelves. He looked, very deliberately at Will’s shirt and his damn eyes practically sparkled with the laugh he was holding in.

”Don’t even,” Will warned him.

Nursey bit his lip and held up his hands, false image of innocence. ”I wasn't - I said nothing!”

”And you said it loudly. Pick a movie or something. They're in the drawers,” Will pointed below the bookshelves. “I’m going to make some popcorn.”

“How can you still be hungry?”

“I'm not, really, but you can't have movies without popcorn. You don't have to have any.”

When he came back with the bowl Nursey was still flipping through the DVDs.

”You haven't found anything yet?” Will asked him.

“There's too many choices!”

Okay, maybe that was fair. He did have a pretty extensive collection, covering nearly every genre. ”No cable out here, and it’s not like I’m about to put a dish on the lighthouse ya know. Just pick anything.”

”Anything? You sure?”

”Why not? I said your choice, and I like it all or I wouldn’t have it.”

Nursey held up an old Disney DVD that Will had forgotten he owned as if daring him to shoot it down. He shrugged to say why not and popped it in the player. Lilo and Stitch was a solid choice, and who didn't like a cartoon at the end of a rough day?

 To spite his earlier protest, Nursey must have actually wanted the popcorn, Will thought to himself. He'd ignored the entire rest of the long couch to flop nearly into Will’s lap after he’d tucked himself into his usual corner and grabbed a large handful out of the bowl. Will could have sworn he felt eyes on him a few times, but each time he looked up Nursey was either watching the screen or down at the bowl so he figured he must be imagining things. Like how he thought he was going to grab his hand when he was actually digging for the perfect buttered piece of popcorn. Totally his imagination. Yeah.

After both the popcorn and the movie were halfway to finished Will decided Nursey had also been lying about not being tired. With a smile, he grabbed his phone off the side table and snapped a selfie featuring the man currently sleeping on his shoulder, mouth open and tiny bit of drool about to drip onto his own shirt. He told himself he was saving it because it would be good for some ’chirping’ of his own later. Right. Why else? So what if it was a decent picture of himself too. And proof he’d associated with another person.

He turned down the volume on the tv and pulled up a mindless game on his phone, settled in to kill a little more time. He didn't want to disturb Nursey, and it wasn't like he was ready to go to sleep yet anyway. He had trouble falling asleep most nights as it was, and he didn't think his mind was going to quit spinning any time soon. Between game levels, he switched over to his browser and stared at the screen. Very determinedly NOT googling the man sleeping on him, because - why again? Oh yeah, that would be weird. Even if he was apparently some sort of author with at least one other famous friend. It would be beyond awkward if Nursey were to wake up and see him snooping. And the whole privacy thing. Not bullshit, an actual legitimate reason to leave it alone. That’s what he told himself anyway, as he resisted temptation and switched to a different game and started playing.

After about the 1000th round, Will finally dropped the phone and joined Nursey in sleep.

 A weight settled over Will and pulled him back awake. At first he thought it was Nursey, but no. Too light for that. He wasn't sure how long he’d been out, but it was still dark out. From the side of the couch he heard a whispered ”This is so cute” and his eyes snapped wide open. Before he could shout, his ’neighbor’ put her fingers to her lips and hushed him.

”Hi.” she whispered, nervous.

”You. Lou. Hi.” Smooth. Real smooth Will. He mentally slapped himself. At least he’d remembered her name this time. He looked down to check if Nursey had woken, but he was still out cold, now covered in the same blanket he was. That must have been what woke him. He looked back up and just stared at her, for the first time catching a flicker.

”So...I guess you know now, huh?”

”It’s true?” he asked, mindful to keep his voice down.

She nodded, ”Depending on what exactly you think you know...mostly, at least.”

”Were you ever going to tell me?”

”How mad would you be if I said no?” She caught his look, ”Never mind, look who I’m asking. Of course you're upset. You know, at first I thought you knew. You kept trying to steer the tourists away all those years.”

”That's because-”

She waved him off, “I figured it out. You just really don't like outsiders. Or people in general. Most of them, in any case. Seems this handsome stranger is an exception though. Second time keeping company in as many days, if I'm not mistaken.”

Will blushed.

”Could it be that making friends wasn't the worst thing in the world?”

“What do you want me to say? Yes, I admit it, you were right. This hasn't been entirely awful.”

And it wasn't. Except for feeling like he somehow lost his friend, even if she was standing right there. And questioning what he knew about - well, everything. That had been awful.

”About, umm,” he felt ridiculous even saying it, but he had to ask, “ghosts. Not you, but-”

”Not to change the subject?” she countered.

”No, absolutely to change the subject. But I also want to know. Need to know really. Are there others or is it just you?”

”There’s others.”

”Here?” Will looked around the room. Thought of his parents and other family long gone. Were they still here? If they were, why hadn't he ever seen them?

She picked up on his meaning, ”Not here here. Some echos.”

“What’s an echo?” Will asked.

She took a moment to think before answering, “I think of an echo as a shadow of a person. They aren’t there, but the feelings left behind are. Occasionally you can see things they often did repeatedly replayed. Like your great grandfather walking the deck. He’s not there, but can still be seen sometimes.”  

That explained some interesting calls he gotten during his few ventures out of town. “Anyone from when you-” Will struggled with how to ask what he wanted tactfully.

”When I died? I don’t think so. If so, I’ve not seen them. And I’ve looked.”

Will thought about her concern for him being lonely and started to understand it better. ”I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not everyone stays, and that's better honestly. And I don't know how long-” she stopped to take a breath that Will was now sure she didn't need. Must have been a habit left over from before.

”I've been pushing things and it’s getting tougher to hold on. That storm? That's been happening more and more when I try to force being present too hard. I’m the oldest I know of and I'm not sure but I think my-” Her entire self flickered, and Will sure as hell rubbed his eyes at that, then she muttered, ”Not again. This is why I've got to go. Too much at once and I lose the grip. I'll try to be back, on my word.”

”But wait-” Will started, but it was too late. She was gone. Unfortunately, he was too loud, and Nursey woke up.

 ”Did you say something?” Nursey asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

Will wasn't sure if he should say anything about his visitor. After all, what if he had imagined the whole thing. Wishful thinking, though who would wish for a cut off unhelpful conversation, he didn't know, but still. ”Umm maybe? I don't know.” he answered vaguely.

Nursey squinted his eyes ”You don’t know?”

”Do you always repeat other people?” Will deflected.

”Do you always say weird shit?”

”Maybe I talk in my sleep.”

”Do you?”

”How am I supposed to know? Who’s gonna tell me? Anyway, we should go to bed. Our beds I mean. Separately. So I won't disturb you in case of future talking.”

”I would talk about this more, but I'm still tired.” Nursey pulled himself to his feet and then offered Will a hand up. ”Remind me to interrogate you further in the morning.”

”Of course.” Will lied, hoping he'd forget the whole strange exchange.

Before leaving the room, Will took a good look at the blanket on the couch. If he needed any more proof she was really there, that would be it. The blanket in question was a quilt his mom had sewn for him. He knew for a fact the last time he saw it was when he packed it away in a box of things he couldn't deal with looking at right after the accident. A box that was shoved deep into his parents’ closet before he locked the room. He knew he hadn't opened it up, and who else could have gotten in?

Still, he kept quiet. Even after talking to her, it wasn't like he had anything helpful to tell the rest of them. It was more personal, he reasoned.

 Will paused in the doorway when he showed Nursey to his room. He didn't even realize they were holding hands until it was time to let go. He wanted to say something, and it looked like Nursey did too, but instead, after an awkward moment that hopefully felt longer than it actually was, they both just said goodnight and headed to their own beds.  

[maxattack-powell]

The Freshman 2-11b

The Freshman Book 2 - 11b Chapter 11b: A Hard Day’s Night 

***Labeled as 2-11b in my masterlist - new chapters added to include more***

Masterlist - go here for other chapters and related original fics

Disclaimer: The following are fics (adaptations from actual game chapters AND original works) to Choices: The Freshman series. It is a fictional adaptation. I do not work for Pixelberry Studios, the game developer or own the rights to the characters Chris Powell, Nicole or any other IN GAME character. All of the ORIGINAL characters, storylines and events were developed, by me, for this adaptation of The Freshman story.

Comments: I enjoyed playing Choices: The Freshman… But it needed more. I’ve included certain things that aren’t really full fic size in order to add more substance to the story. I ALSO have quite a few full size fics throughout. I wanted to see MC and Chris through their college years, and more… with additional angst, fluff, sweetness, real life and overall detail - so here you go.

Word Count: 10,232

NSFW moments in some chapters - Mature Readers Only Please

Paring: MC x Chris

POV: ~MC~ or ~Chris~

~MC~

The tall freshman begins to stir, something telling her that it was time to get up. She uncurls from her standard sleeping position and blinks slowly a few times. She’s cold, which by the looks of her surroundings, she shouldn't be. MC was still in Chris’s room, which means he should be wrapped around her, like he typically is when they sleep in the same bed. Her brow furrows as she begins to sit up, thinking that he must have left without waking her to go to the gym.

The sudden movement behind her startles MC and she spins quickly at the hip, eyes wide as she finds the quarterback in question still in bed behind her. She frowns when she looks at him though, instantly feeling that something was off. Chris’s body language was unusual for his normal behaviors, laying fat with one arm bent and laying across his eyes. That wasn't the strange part though, or the fact that he was completely without covers seeing as he is a walking furnace. It’s the flushed tint to his cheeks, the light sheen of sweet across his now bare chest that was worrying her. Chris went to bed wearing a t-shirt and had been under the covers with her when they finally passed out the night before.

Something was wrong.

MC moves gently, shifting her legs around until she's kneeling on the bed next to her boyfriend. She shimmies closer, leaning forward enough to grasp his forearm and pull it down from his face. When she does he takes a deep breath and shifts, but it sounds a thick and his eyes don't open. They just slide back and forth under his lids as if he’s in a dream. It’s usually not hard to wake Christopher Powell, something MC has learned the hard way over the last few months.

This was not a good sign.

She lays the underside of her wrist on his forehead and waits. It doesn't feel abnormally hot, but his skin feels warmer and a little clammy. MC sits back on her heels and chews her lower lip as she assesses his behavior. He doesn't seem to have a fever, at least not a high one. His skin still looks normal, minus the mild sticky feeling at the touch.

“Maybe he just had a bad night’s sleep?” She mumbles to herself.

Her spoken words change everything, turning him to her like a beacon of light in the night for a lost ship. Chris’s eyes flutter open, searching the space around him slowly before his gaze falls on hers. “Hey baby.”

Her brow furrows and he seems to notice, his own expression beginning to mirror her look of concern. “What’s wrong beautiful?”

She continues to chew on her bottom lip, occasionally shifting to gnaw on the inside of her cheek as she lays her hand on his arm. “Do you feel okay Chris?”

He frowns deeper as he sits up, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ayuh… why?” He reaches to hold her hand, wrapping his warm one around hers as he clears his throat. “What is it?”

MC pulls her hand from his, reaching out to place one flat on his chest, the other on his forehead again. “I woke up cold and thought I was alone… when I turned to find you in bed, you…” Her nose scrunches up. “Well you looked like you might be sick, I swear you were kinda hot and even sweating.”

Chris gives her a small smile. “MC, I don’t get sick… not like colds or anything. I’m alright.”

She shakes her head. “I donno. I think something’s wrong.” Her eyebrow arches as she continues to speak. “I mean seriously, you skipped going to the gym...”

He chuckles while gently wrapping his hands around hers before bringing them to his lips. He kisses both sets of knuckles lightly before resting their joined hands in her lap. “Okay, I skipped the gym. After yesterday I wanted to be here when you woke up... and I didn’t feel like fighting you to go with me this morning.”

MC snorts. “Liar.”

He shrugs. “I really am okay. My throat is a little sore but I was running around like crazy yesterday, I probably just need a day off.”

Her eyes narrow and he laughs again. “Come on Doc… let’s go get some breakfast and head to class.”

The pair manages to get ready for the day with just enough time to stop by the campus cafe and grab a few items. MC gives him a curious look when he orders twice his normal coffee order and barely eats his breakfast croissant.

As they walk towards their first classes, Chris catches her eyeing him suspiciously as he takes a long drag from his cup. “What woman?”

His smile was wide, but not as bright as she’s used to seeing. “Feeling tired? Not super hungry?”

Chris shrugs and switches his cup to the other hand before using the now free one to pull her close. When he doesn't say anything, her eyes narrow and she studies him even harder than before.

~Chris~

Feeling the hole being burned into the side of his face, the tall freshman turns and immediately begins to laugh. “Oh my god, whaaaaat…”

She stops and crosses her arms, forcing him to stop with her so he doesn’t drag her forward. “You're not a big coffee guy… remember? And not eating all of your food? Who are you…”

Chris takes a deep breath and shakes his head. He wants her to let this go. He doesn't get sick, not like this. Sure he had the flu once as a kid, but it’s rare for him to get sick. He wasn't sick. He can’t be getting sick. He doesn't have the time for something like this right now.

When his gaze moves back to hers he shifts uncomfortably. “I told you MC, I’m fine.” When her frown deepens he sighs and pulls her into his chest. “Really.”

She burrows her nose into his chest and he swears he can feel the cold tip through his sweater. “Can we go to class now? If we’re late, the professor is going to kill us.”

MC begrudgingly agrees and they make double time, making it into the room just in time to see the professor walking in. The day continues like normal, the two meeting when possible between classes, getting a bite together for lunch and eventually heading to their last class for the day.

~MC~

MC waits for Chris in the hallway outside of his history class and searches on her phone. She’s noticed his behaviors changing more throughout the day. He had become more sluggish, barely eating half of his lunch, drinking from his water bottle more than usual, let out the occasional cough. Things like that.

Being someone who had seasonal change reactions, typical sore throats and mild coughs thanks to her sinuses, MC was no stranger to his current predicament. If he would just let her help, she could possibly cut his inevitable suffering time in half. Maybe even lower, but he had been so stubborn with her all day.

The door to his classroom opens and she looks up from her position against the wall, her gaze gliding across student after student until they finally land on his broad back. When Chris steps out into the hall and he looks absolutely drained. She watches as he takes a deep breath, reaching up to drag his hand through his hair.

Compared to the cute, controlled loose curls it had when they left the suite this morning, it was now fluffy and generally messy. She can tell he has been running his hand through it a lot throughout the day. Just another sign that something isn't right. Chris typically only plays with or pulls on his hair when he’s anxious, unsettled, angry or upset in some way.

“Or sick.” She says softly to herself, adding it to the list as she begins to approach him.

Chris meanders through the halls, angling his wide frame between other students and faculty as he goes. MC watches his movements as she gains on him, shaking her head briefly as he continues to prove her theory correct. She sighs and reaches out, sliding her hand through his arm and hooking on his elbow.

~Chris~

He spins at the contact, his eyes down on the hand around his arm before he turns his gaze to its owner. His eyes look up and MC gives him a soft smile, watching his concerned expression from someone touching him so intimately. The moment he sees its her everything changes, his face becoming soft and loving.

“Hey babe… I was going outside to look for you.” He gives her a sluggish smile, doing his best to hide the fact that he’s actually starting to feel a little rough after the long day.

“We got out early so I waited for you.” She kisses his jacketed shoulder as he pulls her closer. “Come on, let's go back to the suite.”

They walk for a while in silence, almost making it to the parking lot of their building before Chris decides to say something. “You don’t have to do this yanno.”

MC glances over at him, her expression overly innocent. “Walk with you to the suite?”

He hasn’t forgotten her words of concern from earlier in the day. They are still quite clear on her face even though she hasn't verbally brought it up again. He takes a deep breath, doing a quick assessment of how he feels, deciding that it could be worse, deciding it's just some sinus irritation that will go away by tomorrow. There was no way he was going to tell her she might be right. He just needs to go to bed earlier tonight. Just needs to get more rest. He will be good in the morning. He has to be. Sebastian wasn't going to rest, so he couldn't either.

Chris takes a deep breath and shakes his head as he tightens his grip around her shoulders. “No Miss Cherry. Play nurse. I told you I was fine. I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I didn't say anything.” She mumbles as she turns her focus forward.

“You didn't have to. I’ve seen the look on your face all day…” He leans over and kisses her temple. “I just need to chill out, take a break. I’ve been working too hard on this campaign stuff.”

“Uh huh.” She grumbles as they reach their building.

~MC~

They make their way inside and end up working on more homework for a while. Zack and Tyler are at the table too, working through their shared math class as Chris and MC work through various assignments.

After a while, Chris mentions needing another book and disappears into the dark hallway, heading for his room. When he’s gone for an unreasonable amount of time, MC stands and leaves the kitchen table to check on him.

The guys both look up and Zack frowns. “He’s getting worse isn't he…”

MC glances at him and nods with a frown. “Yes, and he's so damn stubborn about it.”

Tyler laughs and puffs his chest out, doing his best impression of his friend. “But Mainers don't get sick.”

Zack swats at him and he instantly deflates. “What… it's true. Cold and flu infection numbers are actually quite low in Maine compared to the rest of the United States.”

Their curly haired friend comically face palms as Tyler shrugs and throws his arms up in defense. “I mean...”

MC shakes her head and turns back to the hall, ignoring the two behind her as she approaches the quarterback's cracked door. She hears something further down the hall though and pauses, looking up to find Kaitlyn standing halfway out of her doorway, clearly frozen when she sees MC.

The tall blonde opens her mouth to say something, but she never gets the chance, seeing how quickly Kaitlyn turns back into her room and shuts her door with a little too much force. MC sighs loudly, not realizing as Abbie walks out of her room a second later, glancing at Kaitlyn’s door with an arched brow.

She turns to look at MC as she heads towards the living space and pats her on the shoulder. “Just give her time… I’m sure she will figure it all out.”

“Yeah.” MC says in a hushed breath as she glances briefly at the shut door before turning to face Abbie and jutting her thumb behind her. “You might want to get out there. Zack looked like he might choke Tyler soon.”

Abbie laughs softly and shakes her head. “Maybe I should go back to my room instead.”

They both chuckle before Abbie gives MC a warm smile and moves towards the shared suite space once more. When she turns and faces Chris’s door she hesitates before she knocks. A small smile appears when she hears a soft snore spill through from the other side though the crack. Pushing the door open just enough to peek inside, she finds Chris sprawled out on his bed, one leg hanging off while a book lays split open on his chest.

She pulls her bottom lip in as she takes a few more steps inside and bends over him. Her wrist finds the same spot on his forehead from earlier in the day and after only a few seconds she jerks it back. His skin was hot, and upon further assessment, she found his cheeks were more flushed than when he ran a two miles’ sprint. Chris had his fair share of rosy cheeks on occasion, but this was more than anything she had seen outside of some serious cardio.

“Shit.” She hisses out, quickly covering her mouth as she stands back up and watches for his response.

There was none, except for a unusually loud and thick sounding snore. He really was getting worse.

“Okay. That’s it Powell.” He doesn't budge and she leaves his room, pulling the door closed before cutting into her room and digging through her nightstand.

She finds what she's looking for fairly quickly, grabbing an over the counter cold medication combo that has helped her okay before. She leaves and goes back to the shared space, snatching his water bottle from the table before heading into the kitchen to refill it with cool water, knowing most people need something to help get the medication down and he needed to stay hydrated.

As she moves around the group at the table, Zack looks up and frowns when they lock eyes. “That bad?”

MC doesn't say a word, her lips pressed tightly together speaking volumes and Zack nods. “What can I do MC?”

She sighs as she fills up her boyfriend’s bottle, twisting the top on tightly and wiping off the excess drips with one of the dishtowels. “He really hasn't eaten much all day. I’m about to give him some of these to help what may be a mild fever. Hopefully it will make him feel better too, but he really needs to eat more.”

Zack stands, patting Tyler on the back and getting an affirming nod from Abbie. “We’ve got you. Just tell us what to get.”

MC looks up and sees them all stand, her heart swelling with love for her friends. “Really?” When they flash her concerned smiles she lets out a held breath. “You guys are the best. I was going to go out but--”

Tyler and Abbie head towards the door to grab their jackets as Zack pulls his off the back of his chair. Tyler gives her a warm smile once more. “You stay here, get him to take that stuff and drink a lot of water. Text us what you need us to pick up.”

Abbie fixes Tyler’s jacket hood before turning to MC. “That includes something for you to eat too you know.”

MC laughs at Abbie’s motherly tone as Zack gives her a quick hug as the trio heads out. She pulls out her phone and quickly sends them a group text with some of Chris’s favorite foods from different areas close by, telling them to get whatever was most convenient for them, doubling whatever they order to keep it simple.

She also asks if they can grab a few more medications from the pharmacy near campus since her stash is a little low. She brought what she had from home when she started this year, and hasn't needed to use them until now, but she knew it wouldn't hurt to get a few items.

MC wants options just in case she can’t slow it down quick enough and it tries to spread into his lungs or something. She knows chances are good Chris will fight her on taking the medications tonight, but she believes she has a better chance of getting him to take them herself, then she has getting him to see the nurse first thing in the morning.

She grumbles incoherently to herself as she snatches the water bottle from the counter and heads back to his room, checking her pocket for the little bubble packet as she closes his door once more. He hasn't moved. She can’t help but smile at him, thinking that he looks kinda adorable when he’s sick. Not that she enjoys that he’s in this crappy situation, but the way he's laying right now reminds her of a soft little boy. He looks so young, so innocent at this moment.

Approaching his bed, she moves the book from his chest and sits on the edge, resting her hand where the book just was as she speaks. “Chris.”

Nothing. No response as he continues to drag in ragged breaths.

“Christopher Powell.” She says with a little more force, this time getting a reaction out of the long legged quarterback.

~Chris~

“Wha… MC?” He turns his head towards her, his movements and words groggy as he places his hand on hers. “Oh, hell. I sat down to check something and I must have fallen asleep. Sorry babe.”

She shakes her head and gives him a reassuring smile. “Here… take these.”

Chris sits up and gives her a curious expression as he holds his hand out and two identical white pills fall into his palm. He looks up and finds her giving him a serious look. That’s when he knows it’s over. He can’t fight her on it now, especially when how he really feels starts to seep in.

He takes a deep breath and closes his hands around the medication, reaching for the offered water bottle with his free hand. Without a word he tosses them in and swallows with a few gulps of water.

MC shakes her head. “Drink more please. You’ll need it.”

“This will be more than enough to shake it… you'll see MC.” He gives her a small smile, feeling his sore throat pull from the gesture. He does his best to hide his grimace but she sees it and his shoulders fall slightly. “Not falling for it, huh?”

For the first time all day he sees a genuine smile crosses her lips. “Nope.”

He chuckles and then groans. “Ugh, I shouldn't have done that.”

MC stands and gestures towards his person. “Come on, strip.”

His left eyebrow arches sharply as he looks up at her. “Um, what?”

She laughs. “I mean get out of those jeans and stuff. Get comfortable. You’re not going anywhere.”

He opens his mouth to argue but the daring glare she sends his way makes him snap it shut instantly. Without a word he stands and removes his jeans and button up, replacing them with long sleep pants and a soft Hartfeld hoodie. The more he moves the more he realizes how cold he is, how heavy his head feels. ‘Shit.’

“Cold?” She asks quietly as he sits back down on the bed and nods. “I think you’re working up a fever, but that medication should help soon.” She pulls his covers back as she hears the front door open and close. “Here, get in. I’ll be right back.”

Chris takes another big drink of water and props his pillows up so he can lean back against the headboard. He looks over towards his nightstand and realizes that he didn't bring his phone or anything back with him. Almost as if she knew what he was thinking, MC re-enters his room with a stack of his books against her chest with one arm, the other clutching a few plastic bags.

“Don’t you dare.” She threatens, making him smile as he watches her lay the stack on his desk and pull out his phone from her back pocket before tossing it to him.

He easily catches it without looking, his eyes glued to the bags in her hands as she approaches his bed once more. MC silently begins to pull item after item out of the noisy plastic and sets them down on his nightstand. His nose has begun to become useless, the congestion now bad enough to hinder his smelling ability, but a few distinct ones still make it through.

“What did you do?” He smiles wide when she looks into his eyes, giving him one in return.

“Our friends offered to pick something up while I checked on you, and they kinda got one of everything instead I suggested… so you have to eat it now. At least half.” She gives him a ‘try me’ look and he laughs.

“Half?” His eyes widen as he looks at all the items on the flat surface next to him.

“Yes sir. Zack said he would come in here if he had to.” She tilts her head and points at him with a little attitude, the curl at the end of her lips giving her seriousness away. “Don’t make me feed you Chris.”

His smile grows even bigger. “What if that’s exactly what I want…”

She scoffs at him, the smirk only growing. “You would, wouldn’t you.” It wasn't a question and they both laugh.

He does as she asks, eating more than half of the items their suite-mates brought back. It was easy for him when he started assessing his options, quickly realizing that every single item was a favorite of his. He watched MC eat as he finished the beefy burrito in his hands, his chest tight from thinking how awesome it was that she knew him so well already.

After they finish eating, and MC threatens him to not leave the bed for anything other than going to the bathroom, she cleans up and leaves to change into something more comfortable too. Chris plays on his phone as he waits for her to return, scrolling through his social media accounts to check on his friends Ryan and Ethan.

MC slips back into his room and shuts the door softly before sitting on the edge of his bed, facing him as she shuffles through the handful of items they collected at the pharmacy. He inconspicuously takes a picture of her from his point of view as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. He pulls up his Instagram and ads a short caption before tagging them both and posting it.

dontcallmerogers08:  i dont think i mind being sick if i get all my favorite foods and a personal nurse.

It only took a few seconds before they were both making comments below.

ryan_thehawk22:  are you serious? tell her i have a cough and need assistance.

clark25superman:  @sw33tcherrypie don’t tell me he’s tricked you into thinking he’s sick? Cherryfield men don’t get sick.

Chris laughs when he sees their responses, making MC look up at him with the craziest look as her eyes narrow at him suspiciously. “What’s so funny…”

“Where’s your phone…” He tapers off as he looks around, finding it on his nightstand and handing it to her with the notifications blaring on the screen.

He watches her face as she opens the app and finds the post notifications. The smile that slides across her lips makes him feel better than anything the medication has done for him so far. She begins to type away on the screen and he waits for his phone to react, knowing it will light up in seconds. When it does, he pulls it up and grins with anticipation.

@sw33tcherrypie:  He’s not faking boys. The Captain is down. Find Tony and Bruce. We need backup.

Chris looks up at her with a blank expression, finding her wearing a shit eating grin as she shrugs. “What… Bruce is a doctor. And Tony is resourceful.”

Chris sighs as his phone buzzes again, knowing what type of comments he might see next.

clark25superman:  I was going to say something to that effect, but @sw33tcherrypie said it way better than I could have. Told you she was a keeper Rogers.

He looks up and finds her blushing, clearly avoiding his gaze, making him let out a huff of air through his grin. “I swear. I have the worst wingmen, ever.”

ryan_thehawk22:  they could never make CAPTAIN ROGERS behave. avengers civil war taught us that. its all up to you @sw33tcherrypie dont let us down.

MC starts to laugh and he looks up once more. “You okay there, big guy?”

Chris snorts with mild irritation. “Wrong. Avenger.”

She busts out laughing then and he tries his best to hold his ugly expression before losing the battle and joining in, knowing damn well that she mixed them on purpose to get a reaction out of him. After a few seconds of vigorous laughter, he starts coughing a little, his chest crackling more than he expected it to, but he plays it off and takes a drink of water as he avoids her gaze.

~MC~

Her ears don't miss the sound and she frowns as she watches him. “Will you see the nurse in the morning… please? I’m worried it’s getting worse.”

Chris waves her off and leans back, sliding further under his covers. “It’s not that bad MC. Seriously. I just need sleep. Okay?”

The irritated tone in his response stings a little and she nods once before tilting her head down, focusing on the small boxes in her hands as she remains quiet. Chris starts to fidget as the air in the room becomes a little tense while MC shuffles through a few items. She stops and opens one to pull some more medication out before laying them on his nightstand. She stands and lifts his water bottle, finding it half empty. She decides to refill it and returns it to its spot next to his bed before turning to face him.

MC clears her throat and gives him a small smile as she stands next to the bed. “I left you a few more to help you through the night… if, um… if you need it.” Her eyes flick to the table and stay there, doing her best to not to let his words bother her more than they already have. “Wait until after midnight to take them though… so they are spaced out enough.”

She turns without another word and walks towards the door, pausing when Chris speaks behind her. “Hey… wait.”

MC doesn’t quite stop as she opens the door and spins, backing out slowly when their eyes meet. “I still have some homework to do, so… so I’m going to go to my room, that way… that way you can rest. I’ll be across the hall if you need anything.”

Chris raises his hand, halfway reaching towards her as he opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off quickly. “Goodnight Chris. Sleep well... okay?”

~Chris~

She doesn't wait for a response as the door closes between them. The freshman quarterback sighs, his hand dropping to his side on the dark comforter with a muffled thud.

“Smooth Powell.”

He contemplates getting up and knocking on her door, knowing he would be interrupting her studying, but he feels he should apologize for being so hard headed about everything all day. He knew he was irritated though. Not at MC, but the fact that he didn't have time for this right now.

Ethan was right, they never got sick at home. So why now - why when he has so much class and campaign work to do? He groans as he accepts that he might actually be getting sick sick and not having some seasonal reaction like he had hoped.

Clenching his jaw, Chris reaches for his bedding, ready to flip it open and rush across the hall to his girlfriend as he envisions groveling at her feet. However, before he can get a handful of comforter, his phone lights up and he hesitates. All movements stop except for his hand as it snatches the phone, his eyes finding a text notification from Ryan.

‘tell me youre going to get a sponge bath’

Chris rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he types a quick response. ‘stfu hawkins.’

‘did you at least ask?! im pretty sure MC would do anything for you. especially if youre sick. dont waste this opportunity Chris’

His jaw clenches as he types a response. ‘too late. already blew it.’

‘how?! five minutes ago you were basically posting heart eyes’

‘hi, my name is chris powell and i dont get sick.’

‘touché’

Chris begins to type another response when a text from Ethan pops up on his screen.

‘Steph and I only have a few things to do before next week and were thinking about visiting you guys for the weekend if it was cool with you two, but if you're sick…’

His eyes light up at the message, knowing MC would be happy to see them both so soon. Chris had a feeling he might need some help digging himself out of the hole he just put himself in too. He quickly comes up with a plan, already deciding that he would go to the campus clinic as soon as it opens in the morning. He wanted to reassure MC that he would be okay, before asking if she would like to see them. Knowing he wouldn't be up for a lot of activity during their visit, and she would definitely bring it up, he starts thinking of relaxing things they could do around campus with their friends.

‘im going to see the nurse first thing in the morning just to be safe. i’ll let you know by noon’

‘Wow. Your mom can’t even get you to see the doctor. I’m impressed.’

‘dont be. it’s not my idea.’

‘You don’t think I know that?’

‘ha. touché.’

Chris snorts humorously at the odd circular conversation between his two friends before looking at his door again with a sigh. He stands and walks over, opening it enough to peek across the hall and see that her door was shut and there was no light showing underneath. Deciding that she either was or would soon to be asleep, Chris decides not to disturb her and turns back to his room with fallen shoulders.

He crawls back into bed and makes sure he verifies where the medication is that MC left him before he turns off the light and sets his alarm. She will be gone for class before the clinic opens so he sets it with enough time to get ready in time to make it across campus and be first in line.

-------

Instead of sleeping peacefully through the night, Chris wakes up more than once with mild hot and cold chills. Turning on the nightstand light, he groggily fumbles around until his hands find the little bubble packet and he sighs with relief. It was 2 a.m. and he had been struggling to stay asleep for at least an hour now.

He shakes his head, making a mental note to thank MC when he sees her in the morning for her foresight. After swallowing the two white pills with a large gulp of water, Chris drinks down about half of his bottle and curls back up into bed.

“Would have been better to let her take care of you, moron.” He mumbles.

The medication kicks in and he finally finds some peace, sleeping solidly for the next few hours until his alarm goes off. When he reaches over to hit snooze, he rolls flat onto his back and groans.

Yep. He was feeling worse.

Getting dressed as quickly as a sluggishly sick man can, Chris finally opens his door and looks across the hall. MC’s door is pulled to, but not fully closed. He knows she’s not inside though, feeling as if something was missing from himself like every time she was gone. He pulls out his phone to check the time, verifying that she would be in class already before noticing a text.

‘Hope you're feeling better. I’ll bring back some noms.”

Chris can't help but smile. Even when he had been an unwavering ass the day before, she still wanted to help him. He grabs a few of his books just in case by some miracle he feels normal in the next hour and makes his way to the kitchen, stuffing them into his bag as he leaves the suite.

It hadn't been very cold this week, but Chris continues to get mild chills, his coughing increasing as he makes his way to the campus clinic. He shakes his head as he reaches for the door and enters the waiting area. To his disappointment, he wasn't the first student to enter the same door this morning.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he signs in and gets comfortable in one of the chairs, accepting things probably won't move as fast as he had hoped. He really wanted to get back to the suite before MC, to surprise her with a note or something from the nurse, to hopefully make her feel better after last night. He doesn't really know if the clinic gives out notes, but he’s going to ask for one anyway.

The nurse finally calls his name and holds the door as he enters the small exam room. She asks him many questions about his symptoms while taking his temperature and blood pressure. She continues asking him how long he’s felt this way, what he’s done to help, and other similar questions.

He laughs. “Me? Nothing… my girlfriend on the other hand…” He continues to tell her what MC has done, how she's cared for him and what she gave him in as much detail possible.

The nurse smiles. “Sounds like you're in good hands. Let me listen to your heart and lungs. I want to make sure she has nothing to worry about.”

Chris shakes his head but smiles as he takes deep breaths when instructed. She removes her stethoscope and writes down a few notes on his chart before turning to face him.

The look on her face makes Chris frown. “Not good?”

“Well, it’s not that bad. Yet. But from the sound of your lungs, it might try to settle in. How are your sinuses? Is there pressure and pain?”

Chris thinks for a moment and looks back at the nurse. “Some. But only since this morning…”

“Keep an eye on that. The swelling could get worse and you might have some serious headaches. You mentioned some decongestant and expectorant medications that she had?” Chris nods. “Those will help keep you clear, but continue to drink a lot of water. They will do their best to dry you up.”

He nods and smiles, thinking about MC and how she tried to tell him all of this last night. He was just too hell-bent to listen. “My home nurse has been all over it.”

She laughs and grabs his chart as they walk to the door. “Glad to hear it. If you continue to manage the symptoms you have, things shouldn't get too much worse, but come back immediately if they do.”

Chris starts to walk out of the door but suddenly stops, spinning to face her with wide eyes. “Oh, uh… can I get a note?”

She gives him a curious look. “For class?”

He laughs and feels his face warm slightly as he glances at the now full waiting area behind him. “Um, not exactly… for MC. So she knows I came in this morning.”

The nurse smiles wide and laughs, instantly reminding Chris of his Grandma Louise. He makes a mental note to call her soon. She’s always happy to hear what he’s been up to and how MC is doing. She also asks him, without fail, when she will get to meet his ‘lovely’ girlfriend. It makes him grin every time, even though she can't see it on the other side of the phone call.

He focuses back on the present when the nurse hands him a small slip of paper. He reads it quickly and thanks her, heading into the hall and pausing to check the time. MC’s first class was going to end in about fifteen minutes which gives him enough time to get to her building before it lets out. 

He walks as briskly as he can, stretching his legs to the limit, but his energy is lower than usual and the cooler air makes him cough a few times. He doesn't slow down though, wanting to surprise his girlfriend with his clinic visit.

Finally making it to her building, he slips inside and finds a water fountain near her room, silently cursing himself for leaving his water bottle back at the suite. He groans a little and tries not to cough when a tickle in his throat teases him. The repetitive action was giving him a growing pressure headache. He hates headaches.

Chris checks the time again and before he can look up, the doors open in a flurry of activity down the long hallway. His eyes shift over and focus on the one closest to him, immediately searching for MC.

When the line of students slows and he doesn't find her in it, he frowns, mumbling to himself. “She never skips class…”

“Chris?” He startles at his name being called and spins in place, finding his beautiful target behind him.

He gives MC a small smile. “Hey baby.”

~MC~

She closes the distance between them, her brows furrowed as she studies his face. He looks about the same, except for the more frequent coughing, and that makes her frown. “What are you doing… I thought you were sleeping in.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small square of paper, unfolding it before he hands it over. Her brow stays drawn as she reads the note scrawled across official Hartfeld Clinic stationary. Twice to make sure she read it correctly.

              MC ---

              Please continue with your current course of action in

              treating Mr. Powell. I believe his present state will begin 

              to improve as long as you maintain your existing care 

              plan for him. If anything changes, please don't hesitate 

              to send him into the clinic.

She looks up from the small paper in her hand and bites her lower lip as she tries not to laugh. “You asked for a note.”

“Ayuh. I wanted you to know that I appreciate what you did… or tried to do... last night.” He smiles but she notices it doesn't exactly reach his tired eyes.

“Oh, um… you’re welcome Chris, but I didn't really do anything.” She stumbles over the words, feeling her cheeks heat up a little as she looks around the hall to see if anyone is listening, folding the note up and putting it in her pocket.

“That’s not true. You knew something was wrong before I did… and even when I was being a hard headed ass--” She reaches up and covers his mouth, making him pull her hand away in time to laugh once before it turns into a small series of coughs before he collects himself.

“Even though I was being a complete mule...” He tilts his head as she arches a brow in approval of his edit. “You still tried to take care of me. So thank you… and I’m sorry.”

Her chest swells from his words, her entire body warm from the look in his eyes as he holds her gaze with his.

“S’okay…” She whispers as she cups his face with both of her hands, pulling his slightly taller form down so she could kiss his forehead. When he stands back up straight she snickers at his worried expression.

“You thought I was going to try and kiss you?” Her nose wrinkles. “No thanks. You have cooties Mister.”

He pulls her into his chest and squeezes her tight, chuckling softly as not to start coughing again. “I’ll remember that MC… My cooties are your cooties woman. In fact... “ He leans in close, whispering into her ear. “They are already inside of you… this very second.”

She pulls back and gasps before swatting his chest. “Chris!”

He laughs hard and ends up coughing worse than before, making MC frown deeply with regret. “Okay Captain, we’re going home.”

Chris catches his breath and clears his throat the best he can before standing straight once more. “Yes ma'am. Lead the way beautiful.”

~Chris~

As they head out into the quad he turns to her, the curiosity getting the best of him. He clears his throat and tries to squash the uneasy feeling when he silently asks himself if he really wants to know.

“Hey, MC?” He nods back towards the building as they continue to walk. “Why weren't you in class?”

She blinks a few times before realizing what he means. “Oh! I was, I just left a few minutes early to find Dr. Yates before his office hours were up.”

Chris makes a cute confused face, his features scrunching up almost comically as he tries to understand. “My history professor?”

She nods and he continues, still confused. “Why..?”

“I told him you were sick and asked to pick up any assignments or information in case you weren’t going to make it in for the next class.” She chews on her bottom lip, waiting for his reaction.

He stops, automatically tugging her to stop with him since he had his arm around her waist. “You did?”

MC studies his face and adjusts her bag strap across her chest. “I was actually on my way to meet with a few other of your professors when you stopped me in the hall.”

He just stands there, staring into her big hazel eyes for a moment as he thinks about what she said. MC’s eyes flick back and forth, searching his face for something as he processes her actions.

“What… is that bad?” She sighs and grimaces. “Does that make me the clingy helicopter girlfriend?”

His lips slowly curl at the ends. “No.”

She shifts to where she's standing in front of him and he wraps both arms around her waist, doing his best to calm his heart, now fluttering happily in his chest. “Then what’s wrong…”

“Nothing. I just… well, the only person that’s managed to take care of me like that is my Mah. And honestly, I fight her on it whenever she tries. I always tell her to worry about Kyle and AJ… that I’ll be fine.”

“Sounds familiar.” MC snorts with a smirk.

“Ayuh. But that’s just it… you bulldogged your way in, kinda like she did.” The text from Ethan pops into his head. “Possibly better than she did.” His eyes grow wide. “Hell. Don't ever tell her I said that...”

MC laughs and snuggles into his chest as he wraps his arms tighter around her. Chris smiles too and buries his nose into her hair, swallowing a cough as a cool breeze cuts through them. Nothing was going to stop him from enjoying this moment. He was starting to feel miserable, but this was also one of the best days of his life. After Nicole, Chris doubted ever experiencing feelings this strong for another person again. He honestly wasn't sure it was actually possible, until he ran into MC that first day. Everything started changing from that moment forward.

He stands up straight and shakes his head, starting to feel a little overwhelmed by his thoughts and needing a change of subject. “Hey uh, you said something about lunch?”

She leans back and arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, no. We're going home, and then I will go get some cold friendly food while you rest.”

Chris grumbles in agreement, not wanting to argue with his personal nurse any more than he has to. He knows she will win no matter what. He decided last night that she would. They make it back to the suite and he takes a hot shower to loosen his sinuses and relax his aching muscles as much as possible before drying his hair and changing into a warm set of clothes to climb into bed with. Nurse Cherry’s orders. He wasn't going to go against them.

~MC~

She moves quick, wanting to see if she can find a few more of his professors on her way to pick up lunch. It was a good sign he was hungry, and MC knows that when Chris is, he will find something to satisfy that hunger. The sooner she gets back, the better chance she has to keep him quiet inside the suite. After grabbing a few more assignments from a couple professors, MC heads towards a specific eatery on the edge of campus.

Cutting through the athletic buildings would be her shortest route from her current location near Williams Hall. With her collected information secure in her bag, MC starts to jog briskly through the winding paths. She cuts corners when she can, running under trees and zooming past buildings as she checks the time on her Fitbit. She thankfully hears a sound that is clearly too close, making her gaze pop up just in time to stop herself from running straight into a wide, Hartfeld University logoed chest.

“Oh..!” She gasps out as she raises her hands to avoid slamming her face into the black and red athletic jacket.

A pair of large hands steady her, holding her upper arms firmly as she adjusts and stands straight once more. Her eyes look up and grow wide as they see the slightly taller man, realizing who it is instantly. “Coach Cohen!”

He gives her a small smile and head nod. “In a hurry?”

Her face heats up as she takes a step back with embarrassment. His hands release her and he crosses them in front of his chest as she nods.

“Yes, actually… Chris is sick so I’m on my way to get him some of the spicy chicken soup from Lucky Bamboo.”

Coach Cohen’s lips turn down in a small frown. “Powell is sick?”

She nods again and looks past him once before turning her gaze to him again, not wanting to be rude but also feeling like she should get moving. “Yes, the nurse thinks it’s a cold but he started coughing more today so I’m trying to keep it from getting worse.”

He gives her a genuine smile. “Hmm... I actually have some remedies and tricks that work for me that I usually send to my players when they are under the weather. I can send to his email, but would you mind checking to see that he reads it for me? I know how the guys can get about things like this sometimes.”

MC smiles. “Yes, of course. That would be great.”

“Thank you. I know he’s been busy with the student council campaign but he’s still one of my players and I want to make sure he gets healthy as soon as possible. He’s been very busy from what I’ve heard from some of the others guys. I was a little concerned that he might overdo it.”

“You and me both Coach.” She sighs and her eyes flick to her Fitbit to check the time.

He notices and smiles. “Alright I will let you go. Thank you for letting me know… and for taking such good care of my quarterback. I’m going to need him.”

She laughs. “You’re welcome.”

He moves aside and gestures for her to continue on and holds up his hand to wave once before he turns and disappears around the corner of the nearby building. MC runs faster than before, trying to make up some time so she can get back to said quarterback as soon as possible.

~Chris~

MC makes it back in record time with a large container of the best spicy soup in Hartfeld along with a few of his favorite comfort foods. He learns that she also managed to track down a few of his other professors on her way out, gathering a handful of assignments so he doesn't fall too far behind if things do get worse over the weekend.

Working for Vasquez did provide a few perks for MC, a big one being developing relationships many of the faculty while running errands for him. Usually her work for Vasquez annoyed Chris, since he clearly took advantage of her situation on many occasions, but right now it was benefiting him and he had to begrudgingly appreciate it.

She brought some vitamins from her room along with a few other items, the most important one in his opinion being a diluted eucalyptus oil that he gladly let her rub into his chest when she told him what it was. It’s supposed to help with his congestion, but he just wants to enjoy the soothing feeling of her hand gliding across his aching muscles. In the middle of her aromatherapy massage, Chris remembers he wanted to ask her something.

“MC?” When she looks up from his chest he feels his heart skip. There’s something about them, he really enjoys looking into those eyes. “Ethan told me last night that he and Steph are probably free this weekend.” He mumbles as his eyes slip closed, thoroughly enjoying her touch.

When her movements stop, he opens his eyes and find her still looking at him but this time with a concerned expression. “But you’re sick… you need to rest.”

He gives her a reassuring smile and reaches up to lay his hands on hers, holding it firmly against his chest. “I will… he knows we can’t do anything crazy. It would be a good distraction… just FYI, if you try to make me stay in bed all weekend I promise you I will lose my mind.”

She laughs. “Okay, then tell them we’d love to hang out. Oh! Maybe we can go see the latest Justice League at the Hartfeld theater? My friend Sarah could get us a few tickets for free.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Chris smiles and pats the bed next to him, slipping his arm around her and pulling her close as he sends Ethan a confirmation text.

Another hour passes and he tries to hide it, but his cough gets worse. MC grabs a bottle of cough suppressant from the nightstand and turns to him.

“This will really help…” He nods but hears the pause. “...but it might also knock you out for a while.”

Chris lets out a sigh and looks at the time, seeing that Ethan and Steph won't leave Boston for another two or three hours at least. “How long?”

He smiles as she makes a cute face, scrunching her lips together and to the side as she twists the bottle in her hands as she thinks. “Maybe a few hours… at least it can for the average person. With you... “ Her eyes move up and down his wide frame, “...probably less.”

His eyes narrow as she gives him a snarky smirk. “What are you trying to say MC?” He reaches out, swallowing his own laugh as she rolls her eyes playfully. “Just give it to me.”

MC pours the required amount into the small cup that came with the medication and he grimaces as he swallows. “Ugh, gross.”

He begins to panic as the thick substance doesn't quite miss his tongue, reaching for his water as she intercepts the cup. “Water.”

She frowns and holds the cup closer to her chest and leans away from him. “Wait… you have to give it a second to coat your throat, or you'll just wash it all off.”

His mouth falls open as he shoots her an angry look. “You didn't say I couldn't drink water after that… that… I can't even think of the right words.” He makes a small gagging sound.

“You can… just after a minute or… two.” She gives him an apologetic smile.

“Minutes?!” He gasps. “Okay no. It’s totally been long enough MC.” He extends his long arm and makes a grabbing motion with his wide hand.

She shakes her head, trying to lean back as she attempts to hold onto the cup. “I’m going to regret this, aren't I?”

He leans forward and snatches the cup from her, chugging down the entire thing in only a few gulps, still grimacing as his eyes water from the foul taste of the medication.

“Nasty.”

She frowns. “I know… but it will help you feel better soon.”

He takes a deep breath and shoots her an apologetic look, knowing she’s right. “Sorry. Thanks for putting up with me.”

MC gets up and kisses the top of his head before leaving with the empty cup and small medication cup. When she returns she not only has refilled the cup, but also his water bottle, placing it all back down on his nightstand before she turns to leave.

“Whatcha doin’?”

She turns in the open doorway. “I was going to grab one of my books so I could hang out with you in here?”

Chris shoots her a small smile as he gets comfortable against the pillows. “Okay, I’ll allow it.”

With another laugh she leaves but returns in just a few short minutes. He looks up from his phone when the door opens, quickly noticing that one of her favorite books is tucked under her arm, but more importantly she is wearing his favorite long pajama pants and his red Henley. The same pajama pants that accentuate her long toned legs and the same red Henley he will always remember her wearing in their building’s laundry room that one night.

“I've been wondering where that thing went.”

She gives him a cheeky smile and shrugs. “Uh, you kinda gave it to me.”

His eyebrows raise in unison. “Oh, did I?”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and grins as she puts her book down on the nightstand and crawls onto the bed next to him. “Yup.”

He just shakes his head and smiles, scooting over to give her more room. Once she gets situated he slides further down the bed and wraps himself around her, laying his head in her lap as he starts playing music just loud enough for him to hear on his phone.

At least that’s what he thought. As Scary Love by The Neighbourhood starts playing on his phone, Chris rolls his head to look up and into her eyes. He sees her swallow as she listens to the lyrics and a small smile crosses his lips. He was starting to feel a little sleepy, but was sure the feeling would pass before too long.

He was wrong.

All it took was for MC to reach down with one hand, running her fingers through his hair while she held her book with the other and he completely forgot about his phone, about Ethan coming to visit, the campaign, everything as he drifted off to sleep.

~MC~

She knew he was out when his body weight melted into hers and his breaths became slightly erratic. It’s really the soft snores that seal the deal. MC swallows her laughter and instead smiles so hard her cheeks hurt as she bends over slightly to look at his peaceful face.

The blonde runs her hand through his hair a few more times, pushing it up and away from his eyes as she studies his features. His hair was starting to get a little long, falling towards his beautiful blues more and more with every day. She knew he would probably get it cut soon, so she wanted to enjoy this slightly shaggy look while she could.

He adjusts against her, his lips parting slightly as he continues to sleep in her lap. MC turns his music off and goes back to her book, reading chapter after chapter for the next hour or so before he stirs again. When he shifts in her lap she lifts her book and looks down, finding him looking up at her through small slits as a lopsided grin slowly crosses his lips.

“You’re pretty.”

She shakes her head and snort laughs. “Uh huh… and you look like you're floating.”

Chris lets out a sleepy laugh and makes a few sounds in what she thinks is an attempt to mimic a jet engine before making a ding and speaking in an authoritative voice. “We are experiencing a little turbulence. Please sit down and buckle your seat-belts.”

MC’s mouth falls open as she closes her eyes. “Oh no.”

“What.” He says and blinks a few times, trying his best to focus on her face.

“You really don’t take medications or anything much…” She was starting to realize that the cough syrup was affecting Chris more than she thought it would.

“Newp.” He says and laughs, making him cough once. “Cut that out.”

She puts her book down on the nightstand and tries not to laugh as he talks to himself, his words a little garbled. “Go back to sleep Rogers.”

MC nods. “That might be a good idea. Sleep it off.”

Chris nods exaggeratedly. “I agree baby… beautiful…” He grins wide suddenly. “My girl… my MC.”

Her entire body warms under his loving gaze. Chris’s eyes just about close as he peers through the small slits once more. He gives her a sleepy smile as he attempts to lift his hand to cup her face. She smiles back, her eyes crinkling at the corner as she helps him by holding his hand to her cheek.

“...love my girl…” He mumbles as his eyes finally close and his arm turns heavy in her hands.

MC blinks a few times and her mind flashes back to their trip to Boston, thinking about that one night when she thought he said something like ‘love you’ before falling asleep. Her eyes fall back to his peaceful face and she shakes her head, reminding herself that he currently wasn't exactly awake and clearly a little altered thanks to the medication. She also reminds herself that he didn't say ‘I love you’ exactly, and that he was probably just talking about how she was taking care of him.

“But what if he wasn't…” She whispers to herself in the quiet room. They have not been an official couple for very long, and they only met at the beginning of the school year. Could it even be possible? She starts to think about how she feels about him in turn, startling herself with the realization that it was, in fact, very possible. MC swallows as she compares how she’s felt over the many months, how things have changed and how clear her feelings are for Chris now.

She jumps when he starts singing, very roughly, with a wide grin out of nowhere. “It's been a haaaaaard day's night, and I been wooooooorking like a dog.”

Her eyes shoot down and she sees that his are still closed, making her wonder if he was awake or if it was some type of sleep...singing?

“It's been a haaaaard daaaaay's niiiight, I should be sleeeeeeeeping like a log. But when I get home to you I'll find the things that you do, will make me feel aaaaaaalright.”

She quickly covers her mouth so she won't interrupt or worse, wake him up. MC recognizes the song, it’s name being the first thing out of Chris’s mouth. Her dad loved The Beatles so she had grown up hearing just about every song they ever made on the weekends. Chris continues to mumble sing, his eyes opening slightly as he looks up into hers, letting her know he was in fact now awake. At least on some level. Coherent was another story.

“When I'm hooooome everything seems to be riiiiiight. When I'm hooooooooome feeling you holding me tiiiiiiiiight, tight!” She grins as he skips some of the lyrics, clearly not fully focused but doing his best in his medicated state.

He chuckles softly and closes his eyes. “My beautiful girl… working hard to take care of me.”

“Holding you tight?” She can’t help herself.

Chris grins hard, showing his perfect teeth as his eyes stay closed. “Ayuh.”

He shifts and nuzzles into her thighs, letting out a content sigh as he wraps his arm around her legs and pulls her as close as possible. Within seconds his breathing pattern changes and she can tell he’s once again asleep.

Not quite ready to dissect her thoughts about what she thinks she may have heard before his random song interruption, MC reaches over and grabs her book and flips to her bookmark. She needs to distract herself from the scary but simultaneously exciting thoughts that are trying to take over.

Now wasn't the time.

Chris is sick.

He’s been rambling.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

That’s clear. Right?

Part of her feels disappointed for a moment but she shakes it off. She knows he cares for her, that's obvious, and right now he needs her to care for him. MC continues to read her book, just about finishing it when she sees his phone screen light up next to her. Glancing over she sees that it’s a text from Ethan.

‘We’re about to leave. Everything still good?’

She smiles and picks it up, sliding the notification open to respond. ‘Chris is asleep right now but we will be mobile when you guys arrive.’

‘You sure MC?’

‘Very, you need to see this kinda behavior in person lol.’ She takes a quick picture of him passed out, laying across her like a giant six-year-old.

‘Haha. Okay that alone will be worth the drive. Take lots of pictures. They will come in handy at some point I’m sure. See you guys soon.’

Tag Lists

Perma Tag: @coldcollectornight08 @darley1101 @hopefulmoonobject @writtenbycandy @syltti78 @gardeningourmet @kennaxval @llamasgrl @lenoxxx9 @weaving-in-words @meeraaverywalker @lizeboredom @elyannagray @mfackenthal @speedyoperarascalparty @littlegreenmoo  @drakelover78 @lolablackwrites @regrettingnathan @innerpostmentality  @chrispowelltrash @craftytacotrashdream @enmchoices @liam-rhys @choicesfannatalie @ihearyoucallmyname

Chris x MC Tag: @flynnomalleys @walkerismychoice @elyannagray  @mckenzie-powell @jellybean-marshmellow @alepowell @sunflowergirl-25 @weaving-in-words @kinkykingliam @foghedgehog @greyeyedsmile14@katurrade @easyobsession @elbenmond @heatherfilliez

**Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list**

[awriterorsomething]

Interviews With Some Monsters

If you haven’t already read The Carnival make sure you check it out before reading this one!

I’m sitting here with William Saxon. The ring leader, so to speak, of a travelling Halloween carnival, called Halloscream. Later on, I will be interviewing a few more guests from this wonderfully scary carnival. But, let’s get into this, shall we?

Tell me, Mr. Saxon, how did this whole thing start?

Hi Debra, it’s great to be here with you. It all started when my mother and father took me to see my first circus show. It was magical, and the performers had excellent tasting blood. Now that I think about it, that was my first real hunt with my parents. Rest their soulless bodies. Anyway, as I was cleaning the excess blood off myself, I thought about how fun it would be to have my own show like that. And before I know it, I’m five hundred years old, thirty-something in human years—don’t ask, I still don’t understand how ageing works among us vampires—and I’m recruiting all the best ghouls and monsters to join my creepy carnival on wheels.

That sounds… delightful! What sort of challenges did you face when you first got yourself started? And how long has it been since the first event?

Well, it definitely wasn’t easy. I honestly didn’t think it would take off. But once I gathered some friends and told them my plans, they were on board. Then word spread and more creeps were eager to help out. We figured out everyone’s role, what we wanted to have in our shows, and we had to do some research on human carnivals. At first, we were worried about humans not enjoying it because it was too scary. We then realized we could capitalize on Halloween, and went from there. Also, time doesn’t really affect us as it would with you, so it could be twelve or twenty years since our first rodeo, we don’t know.

It seems like that really worked out for you. What kind of things do you do to entertain your guests?

Great question, Deb—can I call you Deb?

Fine by me.

So, Deb, we do all kinds of things! For starters, we scare the heaven out of our guests. We have real haunted houses—although they don’t know they’re real—different rides, and some small acts throughout the place; juggling, sword eating, bobbing for poisoned apples, you know, the usual stuff. Most of our rides run on some magic from our lovely witches, and we’re lucky to have such a great team of talented freaks. Everyone gets paid by the scream! So we work hard. But it’s not all about the earnings, it’s about the guests too, of course. We love scaring them and seeing them all have a fantastic time. It really makes all of this worth it. Pardon me, I’m getting off track. Our forms of entertainment are as human as any other carnival; except for the special effects, I don’t suppose humans can pull their own faces off. We like to keep things as “normal” as we can. But, we do have a special after party for those who seem worthy enough to enter. Which I won’t get into because it’s VIP only, and I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for anyone listening.

Very good. I have one more question for you before we move on to our other guests: are you ever worried that young people will stop being scared of ghosts and monsters? With today’s mainstream media, they might become desensitized to all the fake horror of the world, especially when there’s so much real horror that’s hard to ignore.

First of all, what we do isn’t fake. It’s real. We are real. We just tone things down for the public, so we don’t get shut down by the feds. And secondly, I try not to think about that, because I know kids these days are becoming more entertained by horror, than scared of it. I know some kids who laugh while they’re supposed to be getting scared. It’s tough business being a monster. Although, I have faith that we—the unexplainable—will always make people frightened and uncomfortable. Compared to the day-to-day horror we see in the news, there’s no easy way to explain us; what you see on the news is what you get. With us, you never know what will happen. We are, and hopefully always will be, the enigma of horror.

Excellent! Thank you for joining me, I appreciate you being open with me.

You’re welcome, Deb. You always have been my favourite journalist. Maybe we can meet up later, and I can show you my fangs if you know what I mea—

Okay, great. Thanks again, William.

Our next guest is Vivian Wyrm. She’s been with Halloscream for quite a while, and I’ve been told she is one of the resident witches. Welcome, Ms. Wyrm, thank you for being here today.

I didn’t really have a choice, vampy over there said that if I didn’t give an interview he’d stop letting me turn kids into animals. So, here I am.

Oh, well I’m glad you came. Now, can you tell me how this experience has been from your perspective?

It’s not bad; I get my own trailer, my own food, and everyone knows that if they try messing with this old lady they’ll get turned to soup—that’s another fun thing I like to do. I just like turning people into things in general. I can also summon the dead sometimes, just depends on who answers. I don’t have a very good track record with the ladies and gents downstairs, so they tend to hang up before things even get going.

And the carnival, do you like your job there?

Of course I do. Didn’t I just say that? You uppity people… I used to be like you, you know? Glowing skin, bright eyes… look at me now! I’m a goddess. You should really look into dark magic. I can teach you a thing or two if you’d like. Though, I do already have my hands full with my fellow witchy women. I don’t know what I’d do without that bunch.

Well, I—

How long do these things usually take? I’ve got a date with the devil and I need time to freshen up before I go.

Oh, you can go if you have somewhere to be, that’s fine Ms. Wyrm.

Great! Thanks. Good luck with… whatever this is. See ya.

Okay, have a good day Vivian.

Next on our list is Bobo The Clown. Hi there Bobo, how are you doing today?

Hiya! I’m great, Miss Debra! So happy to be here!

I’m glad! So, what do you do at Halloscream?

Well, I scare the kiddies, but I also like making them laugh. I like doing tricks for them and seeing their faces when the trick is over. One time I even learned how to pull a bunny out of a hat, but it didn’t turn out so well because I didn’t know it had to be alive… but anyway, I love the kids. They’re great. I guess my job is to make sure everyone is happy, happy happy!

It really seems like you enjoy yourself there. What do you think of your fellow carney’s?

I think they’re great! Well, mostly. Some of them can be mean, but that’s okay. I know it’s hard for them to control that. One time wolfie tried to eat me, but he didn’t like the taste, he said I tasted too much like candy and battery acid. I guess those acid baths really paid off!

Oh my… do you have a favourite trick to play on your guests?

Hmm, let me think… oh yes! I really like doing this thing where I use my own intestines to create balloon animals! I learned it from a friend of mine. Everyone thinks it’s fake, like some kind of cool special effect or something. But, it’s totally real. And before you ask, it doesn’t hurt at all. I’m not really sure why though… my supernatural abilities are kind of a mystery. My friends tell me that I was in an accident when I was human, and then they found me wandering around my corpse like a lost puppy. Oh, I do love puppies. Do you love puppies?

I do. That’s an interesting story Bobo, but unfortunately, your time is up here, and I need to bring in the next guest. It was wonderful speaking to you, thank you for sharing your experience.

Aww… okay. I liked talking to you. But I guess I’ll go. I hope you have a super amazing day Miss Debra!

Thank you again, Bobo.

Now, let’s welcome one of the many ghosts on the Halloscream team, Samuel… The Spookster?

Ayuh, that’s me. You like it? You like it, don’t you? Spooksta’. Sounds good, right? The big ol’ vamp over there told us we could call ourselves whatever we wanted. I thought this was a pretty nice pick; really rolls off the tongue… although, everything rolls off the tongue these days… because like, I can’t put anything in my mouth, because I’m dead.

Right, yes, it sure is a great name. What made you want to participate in this carnival?

I dunno, I like scarin’ people I guess, and the benefits are good. It’s a cool gig. Before this thing started, I was just spookin’ people in their homes. That was cool, but it got boring after some years. In this day n’ age, people don’t get scared like they used to—too many movies out there, gets people excited to see ghosts. That’s pretty rubbish. But whatever, it’s cool, this place is nice.

So you work in the haunted houses I hear, do you do anything else besides that?

Nah, I like the haunted houses. They remind me of my old job, the home job I just mentioned, y’know. Except it’s more entertaining and there are more people to scare. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.

I’m sure your ringleader is glad to hear that. Is this something you see yourself doing for a long time?

Well, y’know, I got all the time in the world, being dead n’ all. I would die again if it meant I could still be here and with this family, and scarin’ people for the rest of my life. I couldn’t be happier. I really am blessed to be here Debs. I can see myself doing just this until my ectoplasm turns to dust—figure of speech, of course. This slimy ol’ bod ain’t goin’ nowhere!

Really great stuff, Samuel. We are running out of time here, though. I still have a few more of your friends—

Family.

Of course, family. I still have more of your family to get through, so we’ll have to say goodbye for now.

Sure thing. Was great talking to ya.

You too, Samual.

Our next guest is Lillian Dawn, one of the resident werewolves. Nice to meet you, Miss Dawn.

Please, call me Lillian. It’s nice to meet you too. It’s great to be in the presence of another strong female.

Why thank you. Now tell me, what has all this been like for you?

It’s been… interesting. As you probably know, most werewolves are seen as male. So, sometimes it can be difficult for me. But if anyone ever steps on my tail, it’s dinner time, baby. I don’t mind cracking open a few sexist skulls here and there. Even if the vamp disapproves—he’s pretty old school. I do enjoy frightening people, though. My big trick is convincing the guests that I’m this lost and scared damsel in distress, and when they think they’re helping me, I turn into my beautiful self. It’s hilarious watching their eyes bulge and legs shake. I love it!

I didn’t know that sort of issue came up with creatures like yourself. That’s unfortunate, but I’m glad you’ve learned how to deal with it. What made you want to join the gang?

To be honest, I was iffy at first. William found me wandering around a forest by myself. I was in full wolf mode, too. I had just found out my parents had been killed by hunters. I was afraid… I guess that’s why I try so hard to prove myself now because I don’t want to be that scared werewolf anymore. Anyway, he explained what he was planning and eventually convinced me to join him and his friends. There wasn’t a lot of them when I joined, but it quickly became something huge. And here we are! As much as he gets on my nerves, I’m grateful for what William did for me—I’m grateful for all of them.

Wonderful, Lillian. I’m sorry about your parents. It also seems like we are running out of time faster than I anticipated. I suppose I put too many people on the roster today.

That’s all right, Debra. It was very nice chatting with you.

Oh yes, you as well!

Last and certainly not least, our next guest is the newest member of Halloscream. Allow me to welcome Molly Thatcher to the show!

Thank you, it’s good to be here.

I’m quite excited to meet you, Molly. I heard that you’ve only been part of the team for about three years, is that right?

Yeah, it’s been like three or four, something like that. I honestly haven’t been keeping track, especially after I was turned.

Right, and how was that? Was this something you were seeking out?

Absolutely not. I was only sixteen when I showed up at the carnival. I grew up loving Halloween and all things scary, so when I heard about the event I was really excited to check it out. The next thing I know I’m watching two young boys being hurt for entertainment. It was horrifying. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. Eventually, I let them have me. I joined the carnival. And as soon as I turned eighteen I became one of them. It was the hardest choice I ever had to make, but looking back I’m glad I did it. Even if I did say yes just to protect the people I love, I’m happy now, and I wouldn’t change anything.

Are you implying that they used your loved ones in order to convince you to join them?

Well, yes. They did do that. But I’m happy now; being a vampire is incredible!

I see, well as long as you’re happy. Is there anything you miss from your human life?

Of course. I miss a lot of things. Like, being able to eat whatever I want… I really miss french fries. And my family and friends, I miss them a lot. But I know they’re better off and doing well. I also miss my bed—William makes us sleep in old coffins for aesthetic purposes. He says we should honour our ancestors or something. But honestly, I don’t think about my old life all that much. I have a new life now, and it’s great! It’s everything I didn’t know I needed.

Understandable, there’s no winning when you live in the past. What role do you play amongst everyone else?

I don’t really have a role right now. I’m kind of still learning a few things. Sometimes I’ll be around the area, scaring kids, but I’m basically a side character. I do like scaring, though. It’s really fun.

Interesting. Would you ever recommend doing something like this?

What? No, of course not! This isn’t like, a vacation. This is our livelihood. The last thing we want is people coming to us and begging everyone to make them a monster. We’re a family, and only those who deserve to be here, are here. I was lucky to be given this life, but I would not “recommend” trying to squeeze your way into our home.

Fair enough. Last question for you before we go: after being initiated into Halloscream, has your view on horror changed at all? Do you still find certain things as scary as you used to?

That’s a good question. I do think my views have changed. Being around monsters, ghosts, and all sorts of ghouls on a day-to-day basis has desensitized me for sure. Which is a little unfortunate, because I used to love being scared of those things. But, I think now I’m afraid of other things. There’s a lot that comes along with being a monster. I’m constantly thinking about how I can protect myself from the outside world, like, I always need to make sure I’m not in my true form when I’m entertaining people, or just talking to them. Because humans aren’t really accepting of creatures like us. It’s hard. But I mean, you get used to it I guess.

Well, I appreciate all your honesty today. I’m very glad I could talk to you. Thank you for being here, Molly. I wish you the best of luck in all your future endeavours.

Thank you. It was great to be here!

On that note, I want to give a special shout out to everyone who made today possible. I’m incredibly lucky to have this job because I get to meet so many wonderful people and… non-people. Thanks again to everyone who talked with me today. We really learned a lot, and I’d be happy to do it again. It was a good reminder—we shouldn’t judge people before we know them. And here’s another reminder: make sure you check out Halloscream in a town near you! Until next time, this is Debra Way, signing off.

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to read more of my work, you can find them here.

[randomnoteforfuturereference]

Aftermath: Bombshell

So… this story and its counterpart was made at the beginning of this year. However, 4.2 and 4.3 ended up revealing that Dex and Nursey weren’t back in Maine/NYC during Game 7, but in Samwell/Providence. Because I’m a neurotic mess who likes my stories in a single canon-complaint headcanon-verse, I have zero qualms about going back and retconning. I continue to thank @kleeklutch for helping not only beta the changes but make the whole thing flow better.

**Warning: this fic contains explicit homophobic language, bullying behavior from an adult, mention of past physical trauma, anxiety, and allusion to the current opioid crisis.**

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13320069 

There some moments in your life when you know that something catastrophic is coming but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

You have to bear that feeling of helplessness despite your mind tearing itself apart playing out all of the possible scenarios that could unfold.  Despite the constricted breaths, sleepless nights, and twisted insides weighing on your body as you get closer to zero hour. Despite everything, you just have to suck it up.

I’ve done it before. I can do it now.

I’m with over half the village crammed into Aunt Trish & Uncle Jim’s diner, and all eyes are fixed on the diner’s new bigass screen; where my former captain is about to make a seventh-game overtime shot that will earn the Providence Falconers the Stanley Cup.

I know who is going to win as this scene already played out over a week ago. Championship games tend to finish late, so we just record them so we can focus on work — in the process, we do our best to avoid to avoid news — until we all get together for a community watch party. After all, unless there’s a personal investment, there’s no point in losing productive sleep before a work day.

This year though, I was able to not only watch the game live but did so in Providence.

Unlike the alumni who had seats with Bitty, I held down the fort with Chowder and Nursey at Jack’s apartment. Though I bet that any stranger could have waltzed right in and eaten our snacks right next to us without being noticed. While I can recall the play-by-play, that night still went by in a cuss-laden blur. The only lasting evidence of how I felt were the scratch marks along my arm and slight crescents in my palms. I do know that we never let our eyes leave the screen as it went into fucking overtime.

Through overtime, I never noticed how much I’ve been holding my breath until Jack made the shot that brought the Falcs victory. At that moment, that held breath exploded out into a scream and joined the screams of my friends into a collective holler loud enough to be heard back in Samwell.

We were still celebrating — as was everyone else, evident by the chorus of shouts and honking of car horns pouring in from outside — when we saw Bitty running across the ice right into Jack’s arms. Because of course. Still, even as I rolled my eyes, I smirked and raised my bottle to them. Jack not only deserved the Cup; the two deserved all the happiness they can get.

Still didn’t prevent me from wanting to make a chirp out of Ransom and Holster probably being bummed that they can’t charge fines anymore.

Then the chirp died in my mouth, a horrible weight settled in my stomach, and blood drained from my face as realization hit.

Bitty was leaning back and gazing straight into Jack’s eyes. Something was said, and the serious look between the two turned into smiles.

Then they kissed.

Not the affectionate pecks that garnered so many fines. No, it was the intense lip-locked version that they indulged in whenever they thought nobody was watching; their expectation was frequently not the reality, but hey.

After the game, I didn’t say anything about what happened on the center ice. The state of Bitty’s phone was testament to the fact that he and Jack already had enough on their minds. And everyone else was so happy and showing them support. Nobody needed me barging in with the kind of issues that will just raise all kinds of questions.

In any case, that scene is about to be replayed here.

As the puck goes into the net, the diner erupts into cheers. Even if my village didn’t know that Jack was my captain, the Falconers being a New England team is reason enough to root for them. But honestly, I think they’re making a bigger deal about this championship than prior ones because of my connection to the Falcs.

As I add my voice to the collective cheer despite having been spoiled already, a part of me hopes that connection won’t cause them to make a bigger deal about other more personal concerns.

Though maybe they won’t have to.

As footage transitions to the postgame, I take my chance and scramble for the remote. With the focus now on celebration and general conversation, nobody should notice me turning  the television off.

As I mash the remote’s buttons, the room goes silent.

They’ll probably tell me off for messing with the controls. I don’t care. It’s not like there’s anything to watch now since it’s just the post-game. All I’m doing is keeping the electricity bill down.

Then I see the blue light reflected off the countertop.  No. This isn’t happening. Nonono…

As I raise my head, my stomach drops.

In grabbing the remote, I hadn’t turned off the television. I only muted it.

A delusional part of me still hopes that the camera will cut away. That those fucking journo seagulls will find something else to focus on other than my two friends being able to happily embrace without fear.

Of course, the cameras don’t turn away.

So I turn away instead.

And immediately regret my decision.

Everyone in the diner has their eyes locked onto the screen. There’s no more joy on their faces.

Just shock.

For some, their surprise is muted and hints that they got the news beforehand one way or another. However, even they watch the scene unfold in disbelief.

A disbelief being expressed in wide eyes and frozen expressions.

I steel myself for what will come after that shock. I hope that they’ll accept Jack and Bitty. I hope that they will accept the player they were cheering on just minutes beforehand. Either way, at least I will know where they stand.

Finally, Pa breaks the silence:

“Huh.”

… What.

I wait for him to add onto that. Any kind of elaboration. Anything. Anything!

Uncle Miguel looks in my direction. As does everyone else. Dammit, anything but focusing on me.

“The blond boy…” he notes, “that’s your captain next year, aye?”

I almost gag in my attempt to get my throat unstuck. “A-ayuh.”

“… Huh.”

Oh for FUCK’S SAKE!

Aunt Meg chimes in: “I mean, from what you told us about the blond one, I can kind of see it? Didn’t you say he’s a bit…?” She makes a limp-wrist gesture.

I’m saved from answering that by Uncle Jeremy. “Yeah, no surprise there. But Jack Zimmermann?”

By now, the whole diner is overcome by a low chorus of questions, bafflement, and speculation… most of which is aimed at me as if I have all of the damn answers. That’s not getting into those damn noncommittal grunts, as well as a bucketful of confusion from my younger cousins; one just asked me if that means Bitty is the girl.

While there are some comments of disapproval about how Bitty and Jack are making a scene, nobody’s explicitly disparaging or condemning the two. Which I guess is good? But nobody’s offering notes of support or at least acceptance either; though I suppose the comments about the “gutsiness” of the move count as a positive.

Overall, nobody seems to know what to think about this. If they do know, they certainly aren’t letting their thoughts be heard.

It’s pissing me off.

“So Zimmermann’s gay,” states a cousin.

“Bisexual,” I correct.

“Huh.”

Okay, that’s it! I all but throw my hands up as I move for the exit.

“You knew.”

The hissed accusation stops me in my tracks. It’s from the one person who would have a stance. I turn to see Uncle Owen glaring right in my face.

“I… I—“

“I’m not just talking about l… that." He punctuates his statement with a grimace of disgust and gesture at the screen. “You knew those two were screwing each other.” Each syllable is accompanied with him jabbing his finger into my chest.

In this moment, it doesn’t matter how much hockey has built me up. I feel like I’m a scrawny ten-year-old again, and each jab forces me backwards. With each step back, the diner gets more and more quiet as all attention focuses on the two of us.

“How long, boy?” he spits. “How. Long?”

“Since…” I hate how small my voice sounds. I hate how those around me, even though they downright loathe Uncle Owen, are curious for an answer. I hate how part of me wants to give more information than they expect but… can’t. “Since December.”

Actually longer, but nobody needs to know.

Nobody needs to know anything.

“Only two years in that libtard ‘school’, and you’re just full of surprises,” Uncle Owen muses. “Wasn’t the captain elected unanimously by the team?”

“Yes.” Shit! My answer comes out just as I realize why he asked that question. But it’s too late to take it back.

“So you knew the little shit’s a pervert and still voted for him?”

“He’s not a pervert.” I grit out as my hands ball into fists.

“So you say,” he sneers. “And I hear you’re spending the next year in the same house.”

A small part of me feels relief that he doesn’t know that I’m going to room with Nursey. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to control myself right now if the shit he spews goes in that direction. “The rent’s better.”

“Hah. Of course that’s your excuse: ‘The rent’s better.’” There’s a gleam in his eyes that’s too knowing for my liking. “What other faggy secrets—“

“That’s enough, Owen,” Pa growls while shoving his way through the crowd. “Leave my son alone.”

My father may be leaning his cane and may have kept his right arm back home. But in this moment, he looks ready to kick any able-bodied asshole’s ass.

Uncle Owen sputters, “You’re willing to let this Cultural Marxism—“

“I don’t give a flying fuck if Billy has a Little Red Book in his back pocket. You say another goddamn word to him tonight, and I’ll convince Shannon to finally cut you out of her life for good.” Pa doesn’t even raise his voice, but it’s enough to make everyone take a step back. “That will be after I rearrange your face to be as ugly as mine.”

I don’t know how long the standoff lasts. I only know that Uncle Owen is the one to back down and storm out… and that the bloody crescents in my palms are going to last a bit.

As if to enforce a sense of normalcy, the collective conversation picks right back up where it left off. This is despite the subject of the conversation being anything but normal. Pa nods to the door, and the two of us take our leave to begin the walk back home.

As the sounds of the diner fade, I check my phone. Besides the general rambling of everyone, Nursey’s making cryptic suggestions to check the national business news in the coming week.

Finally, I look up from my phone and back at Pa. “… You do know I’m no tankie, right?”

Pa chuckles. “Ayuh. Was just making a point.”

Heh, yeah. A point.  He’s just saying that he’d love me no matter what. But would his love really be so unconditional if I actually started spouting commie, nazi, or beardie propaganda? I know mine wouldn’t.

So then why did he bring it up?

Uncle Owen was the one who said ‘Marxism’ first, and Pa was just taking the statement to its logical conclusion. Don’t think too much of it.

But did Pa rebuke Uncle Owen because what was being said was wrong? Or was it just because I was attacked?

If Uncle Owen made his language just focused on “them gaysexuals”, would Pa make the same statement except with the Little Red Book replaced by a rainbow flag? If he did, would that mean he considers being queer as bad as a communist?

I know that I should really be giving my father more credit than that, and there’s a heavy weight in my stomach at the fact that I would even have doubts. But still…

Pa nudges me. “Something on your mind?”

“Just…” Okay, deep breaths. “Just thinking about the coming year.” Which is technically the truth.

That gets a nod from him. “It will be interesting. No doubt about that.”

Yeah… interesting.  I can just see the attention Bitty will get between him being Jack’s boyfriend and the first out NCAA ice hockey captain. Media may even come to Samwell.

People will know Bitty lives at the Haus. People will know where the Haus is; even if the media doesn’t divulge the location, it’s not like it’s hard to find due to all the damn kegsters.

What if we get paparazzi waiting for Jack whenever he comes to Samwell? What if there is paparazzi obsessed with Bitty himself? What if we get assholes who decide that spewing shit in a comment feed won’t cut it?

We don’t even keep the door locked. But even if we get the Haus secure, we have to walk to campus. Even in school, it’s not like they gate off the campus and limit access.

We should put in new locks and give out a limited set of keys. Convince the frats to install a surveillance system along the whole street. Maybe we’ll even have to stop hosting kegsters so often.

We should do something. We need to do something. We need to do something now! We need to try to keep several steps ahead of them even though they’ll keep trying to find a new way. That includes at our games.

The away games. Fuck. I forgot about the away games. FUCK!

Shit. We’re fucked. We’re so f—

“Billy!”

Pa’s voice forces me to stop walking, and it’s then that I see that I’m at least twenty yards ahead.  Billy, you fucking idiot. Hell of a son you are.

“Shit,” I blurt out while rushing back. “I-I’m so—”

Pa cuts me off: “Enough of that. Right now, I just need you to breathe.”

It’s only at his request that I realize my breath are coming in rapid gasps. I try to do as I’ve been taught but can’t seem to get anything under control as my vision blurs and pressure builds behind my eyes. Oh, now you’re gonna cry about it? You gonna cry, you fucking little p—

A gentle pressure settles around my wrist, and I feel my trembling hand firmly pried away from my arm. The action forces me to look up and see Pa heaving deep even breaths to focus on. It’s not easy, but eventually I force myself back on track.

Once stability’s restored, Pa tentatively asks, “What’s the matter, Billy?”

This time, I don’t have to make the truth a technicality: “Just wondering how the school’s going to deal with the media and security issues.”

Pa nods and thankfully doesn’t ask me to elaborate. “I’m sure they’ll figure something out.”

I’m also thankful that he leaves it at that and doesn’t try to further any reassurance as we continue walking in silence.

A silence which only lasts for another few minutes. “So… your captains are together.”

When Pa comments like that, without the crowds around, the situation feels even more naked than before. 

Maybe I can get something out of it though.

“Ayuh,” I mutter. “Did you know? Before this?”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t have time to read the news.”

While I believe that he didn’t find out until now, I have a harder time accepting his explanation why. However, now’s not the time to get into that. “What do you think?”

My question comes out as a whisper that keeps any emotion in reserve.

Pa looks off at some unspecified point. “Well, I can say that my bombshell doesn’t compare to the one they set off,” he remarks with a wry smile and a waving of his forearm stump around the right side of his face.

Jesus Christ… “Jesus Christ, Pa.” It’s not like he hasn’t made similar jokes before, but I still fail to find them funny.

Pa rolls his eye and thumps me on the back. “To answer your question… I don’t know what to think. Though it’s not like it affects us,” he states with a shrug.

It affects us more than you think. “You know that a lot of queer folk come Downeast, right?” Hell, everyone here knows about, and plenty attend, the pride event in Bar Harbor.

“Ayup, and I know they help keep this economy afloat. Make great music too. Most are still just passing through. I mean, sure, there are plenty staying up in Mount Desert. But still…”

So is that how it will be okay? As long as distance is maintained?

“Well one's going to be officially leading me.”

Pa creases his brow. “He is, isn’t he.”

“The other  did  lead me, and it’s not like he became magically bi after graduation.”

“Hm…”

My jaw clenches.  At least it’s not fucking “huh”.

Our porch light shines into view and guides us inside. Once we get to the kitchen, Pa takes his prescribed painkillers while I watch; I know it’s irrational of me as he hasn’t gotten hooked so far, and it’s not like I’m here all the time, but I can’t help it after a few recent cases.

As he sets his glass down, Pa sighs, “Look, Billy. I know they’re your friends. So maybe I don’t get it. Doesn’t matter. I trust your judgement.”

It does matter.

But still…  “Thank you.”

“Hell, they’re welcome to stop by.” Pa barely finishes his statement before barking out a laugh and shaking his head. For a brief moment my stomach clenches until he murmurs, “Like a Falconer would come here…”

I hide my relief with a huff: “You never know. You saw how full of surprises they are.”

That gets a much warmer laugh from him. “Ayuh. They really don’t do anything halfway, do they.”

For once, I allow myself to join in on the laughs. Maybe everything can be alright. Maybe it will be alright.

Maybe… just maybe…  “Pa, I—”

“Anyways, I’m not sure if I can handle any more surprises,” Pa chuckles before looking up at me. “You say something?”

… it will be a disaster.  “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

I say goodnight, Pa pulls me in for a one-armed hug, and I make the obligatory noises of protest when he kisses my forehead.  

Then I walk to my room and shut the door to whisper into the darkness enveloping me:

“Nothing at all.”

[elljayvee]

I am someone who probably has undiagnosed ADHD. My one child's ADHD-specialist therapist laughed when I said "oh, I do that too, I thought everyone did" to something she said about my kid, and then handed me a card for a practice that specializes in working with adults whose ADHD was undiagnosed as children....and I told my spouse about it and he said "ayuh"....anyway....so that was right before Pandemic Times....my point here is that if you were undiagnosed with something as a kid and are struggling to get accommodations in college, there are often specialists in _adult diagnosis_ and you will probably have better luck getting help if you can find one of them.

I have two kids, one with ADHD and the other with...we aren't sure yet. The one with We Aren't Sure Yet, I spent years arguing with their teachers that No, They Aren't Just Not Working On Their Handwriting, Something Is Wrong, This Isn't Right and being assured no, no, lots of kids go through this learning to write....until suddenly in 5th grade I got "hey have you had this child evaluated for dysgraphia, you should've noticed something wasn't right."

WHAT THE FUCK.

My kid turns out to have severe dysgraphia, and what their OT said was that essentially, the best thing is to get accommodations -- that any kind of therapy aimed at improving the situation has minimal results and children often find it demoralizing, to boot. So now my child has accommodations and their language arts grade went from a D to a B+, just from not having to handwrite. Handwriting is so difficult for them, and they also cannot spell (common with dysgraphia), that their book reports were often three short sentences long, almost illegible, and with half the words misspelled. I had them dictate to me instead, and instantly got full, structured, thoughtful book reports that actually reflected their understanding. They simply could not write those down. (They are learning to type, which has been great for them. They're still not as good with typing as with dictation, but it's getting there.)

In yourself ("other kids don't seem to do this, why do I") or as a parent, when you notice Things That Don't Seem Right, you often get told by people who SHOULD know better that you are wrong and it's fine, but literally every time I've thought that about one of my kids, I have been correct. And a big part of it is that, yes, a lot of things look like someone who is stubbornly staying in Beginnerland like @szhmidty said, but....if someone is taking longer than usual to come out of Beginnerland? Get that checked out if you can. Annoy a pediatrician until they agree to refer you for an OT eval, or a neuropsych exam, or whatever is needed to track that down, because it could be something that having help with will be lifechanging.

I saw a video talking about why schools shouldn't grade or assign homework the other day (interesting video! I support a lot of what the speaker was saying!) But at one point word searches were described as obvious busywork - what's the point in teaching kids to read diagonal words, after all?

Diagnosing dyslexia. Diagnosing dyslexia. Diagnosing dyslexia.

After going through IB classes in high school, after finishing my BA while working full time, after failing algebra with the same teacher two years in a row, there is no kind of homework that has ever made me cry so hard as word searches did in the 3rd grade.

If you've got a kid who has been working on a word search for an hour and is crying and telling you "the words aren't there," if you've got a kid who never knows what the pictures are in connect-the-dots because they can't connect the dots in the correct order, if you've got a kid who can't read analog clock faces after months of being taught how to read time, if you've got a kid who retranscribes all their music class handouts as letters because they can't wrap their head around reading music, I'm begging you to get your kid tested for dyslexia/dyscalculia.

And I'm begging you to get them tested before they learn how to mask so hard that it's difficult to get an official diagnosis because if they need disability accommodations in college they're going to need a diagnosis but they're going to be so good at masking their disorder that it's going to be difficult to prove that they need accommodations. And 'well if you can get by well enough that as an adult you can pass a test designed to diagnose children you must not need help' is bullshit because those tests don't make you do algebra or learn a new character set.

[cricketnationrise]

More Cheese than a Dairy Farm

for @adambirkholtz and also how dare you :D

_X_

1. after the last practice of preseason

“Great job guys, good work today. Take tomorrow off and get ready for classes to start, and then regular practices start tomorrow night,” Dex says.

“And the first team breakfast is Wednesday after morning practice!” pipes up Chowder.

There’s a general rush to shower and leave, guys chirping each other left and right. Nursey finally feels at home. He closes his eyes while he waits for C and Dex to wrap up so they can head to Annie’s. He’s a senior. He even knows what he wants to do after college. Life is good.

“Hey. Hey Nursey.”

“What Dex.”

“Feel my shirt.”

He opens his eyes to see Dex holding out the edge of his t-shirt with a smile and doesn’t try to fight the rush of affection that comes with it. He reaches out and rubs Dex’s shirt.

“It’s nice. Soft.”

“Know what it’s made of?“ Dex asks.

“No? Cotton? Should I know?”

Dex smirks and leans closer.

“Boyfriend material.”

Nursey bursts out laughing. He can’t help it. Coming out to him and C over the summer had been a huge step for Dex. He was so much more relaxed and, though he would never say it out loud, chill now. Chill enough to use horrible pick up lines on Nursey of all people.

“Dex that’s so bad oh my god,” Nursey manages to wheeze out between laughs. He looks up to chirp him more and sees that Dex looks proud of himself despite the fire truck level blush he’s rocking.

“You guys ready?”

Dex reaches his hand out to help Nursey off the bench. “Yeah we’re good Chowder, let’s go.”

Still laughing, Nursey just says “boyfriend material” to himself, takes Dex’s hand and they leave the locker room.

_X_

2. During Spookykegster

It’s an excellent party. They won their game last night, and there’s no practice or classes in the morning to wake up for. Ideal conditions for sure. And his best friends are on NurseyPatrol, which, to be fair, hasn’t been needed since sophomore year, and has now evolved into the best excuse to hang out with Dex and C for some quality Frog Time.

“You mind if I leave to go over to Cait’s?“ Chowder asks, shouting a little to be heard over the music.

“Ooooooh we see how it is, don’t we Dexy? Not even our epic friendship can hold a candle to the lovely Farmer. What ever shall be done?” Nursey says as he sways into Dex.

“You’re good C, take off. Come help with clean up in the morning and it’s all good,” Dex says, his hands automatically coming up to catch Nursey before he overbalances and falls.

“Bye guys! Have fun the rest of the night!”

And now Nursey has a slight problem. Tiny really. It’s just that now he’s alone with Dex. Dex who is actually wearing a costume for once. He’s dressed up as Woody from Toy Story and Nursey might be having a hard time not staring at Dex’s ass in those jeans.

It’s fine.

“You want to get another drink? Or are you going to dance?“ Dex asks.

“I think drink,” he says, moving toward the kitchen, “I need another beer I think before dancing. Want one?”

“Ayuh, sure, thanks Nursey.”

He goes and comes back, handing Dex a can as he leans back against the wall next to him. He’s drinking and scoping out a potential dance partner when out of nowhere he hears,

“Are you wearing space pants?”

“What? No? I’m wearing jea-”

“Because your ass is out of this world,” Dex finishes a little too loudly, blushing furiously.

“What’s this Dexy? You flirting with little ole me?” Nursey flutters his eyelashes and delights in watching Dex’s blush deepen and spread down his neck.

“I - well - you know - I - no?”

“Chill Dex. I know you’re just practicing, en bee dee,” he says just to watch Dex’s eye twitch at the spoken letters. “Gotta go see a boy about a dance. Catch up with you later.”

Nursey laughs to cover his disappointment and goes to dance. Now that he knows Dex isn’t serious and his beer is finished, it’s time to dance.

_X_

3. At Founders a Week before Finals

Nursey is stressed okay? Just because he’s got an internship lined up for credit for next semester doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need to study. And his Harlem Renaissance paper is kicking his ass. But once he finishes this draft he can take a break. He just needs to focus. Or another coffee? Maybe he just needs -

“It’s a good thing I have my library card because I am totally checking you out,” Dex whispers, from the chair next to him.

Nursey starts to snigger, trying to keep from making too much noise in Founders.

“You been saving that one just for me Dex?”

“Just thought you needed a little break from your paper,” Dex says, trying to be nonchalant about it, but his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, and his ears are bright red, giving him away.

And.

Nursey can’t hold it in anymore, and starts hysterically laughing.

He’s still laughing as the librarian swoops down on them and demands they leave. What a horribly cheesy pickup line. And from Dex of all people.

_X_

4. Nursey’s Birthday

All the card says is “We’re not socks but I think we’d make a great pair.”

But, he recognizes the handwriting and it was left on his pillow so he digs his phone out of his pocket, laughing.

Me: woowwww dex

Me: this one is so cheesy if i didn’t know better i’d swear you’d have a fondue machine down there

As he changes out of his jeans and gets ready for practice in an hour his phone pings. He opens Dex’s response and promptly has to sit down. William J. Poindexter has responded with a selfie. It’s a little blurry, clearly taken while he walks home from his programming class. It’s unseasonably warm for February today, so the pink across Dex’s freckles are 100% blush.

Dex: Happy Birthday, Nursey! Hope it made you laugh.

Something about the picture makes Nursey’s breath catch. He doesn’t feel like laughing all of sudden. He doesn’t want to examine the swooping sensation in his stomach too closely. That way lies madness.

_X_

5. March

It’s been a brutal practice. But no one is complaining. They’re in playoffs. Everyone wants to do well. And Dex is a great captain. He’s really come into his own this year.

But today was like Bitty was still here; Dex put them through a whole practice of the Russian calisthenics that Bitty had adapted from his figure skating coach.

Everyone was wiped.

“Dex, you’re my best friend but I hate you so much right now. If you were a punching bag all that would be left would be a pile of sand on the ground.”

“If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

He couldn’t help it. He giggled.

“Oh stop making me laugh, I can’t feel my abs as it is,” Nursey says, looking over at Dex.

“S’just the truth,” Dex mumbles, flushing abruptly and turning away to dig in his bag for his shoes.

“Fine print,” he snorts and hauls himself up to go refill his water bottle.

_X_

+1 After Winning the Frozen Four

Nursey doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. They’ve won the Frozen Four for the second year in a row. Chowder had a shut out, and both he and Dex had scored. It was truly a perfect game.

He knows he still has to get through the rest of his internship and finals but right now, he’s on top of the world.

He and Dex are crammed into a too-small booth for their combined shoulders with Chowder and Farmer (who flew out to watch the game) opposite them. Nursey feels good, floaty and glowing. They won, his friends are here, and long-established convention means he gets to be pressed up next to Dex. Not an inch between them.

It wasn’t like he was unaware his crush was getting astronomical. And it didn’t help that Dex kept feeding him pick up lines all this year. Lately, they’ve been a small torture, wanting Dex to flirt with him for real.

Whatever.

He’s here. Dex’s here. Nursey’s happy.

Dex has never looked better. Confident and loose like he usually only gets at the Haus. The lights overhead highlight his freckles and Dex’s hair, a touch too long and starting to curl after not cutting it through playoffs. Nursey’s staring. He knows he is. With a herculean effort, he tears his gaze away and tries to focus on what Chowder is saying.

“-And wasn’t it s’wasome when Bully checked that guy right before he could get to Whiskey and -”

“Breathe, babe,” Farmer says fondly, “They were there too.”

Nursey leans further into the leather, relaxing when they leave. As happy as he is, he is tired, and the booth is comfortable. Especially with Dex so close.

They’re all chatting too loudly about The Martian and he’s laughing at Farmer’s Donald Glover impersonation when Dex suddenly winks at him. Nursey almost falls off his seat. Dex leans closer, and whispers in his ear.

“Hey Nursey?”

“Yeah?” Nursey can barely breathe.

“Even in zero gravity I would still fall for you.”

Nursey doesn’t blush. Which means the heat he feels in his face must be a symptom of a fever. His throat is dry enough it might be true.

“Ha ha Poindex-” he abruptly stops talking when he feels Dex’s hand cover his own on the seat in between them and his fingers curl around Nursey’s own.

“Oh holy shit,” he whispers, “Really Dex? Now? With a cheesy pick up line no less?”

“S’thematically appropriate,” Dex shrugs and then tilts his world upside down with, “I got tired of you thinking I was joking around the other times I tried flirting.”

“Wh - I - I -” Nursey has no words. For once in his life.

“Its a good thing you’re pretty,” Dex chirps before leaning in an kissing his cheek, holy shit.

“FINALLY!”

They both jump and look around at Chowder’s shout. C’s beaming at the two of them.

“Do you know how much in back fines the two of you owe?!?!”

Dex just laughs and hides his (bright red) face in Nursey’s neck and Nursey tries not to melt.

“I think we’re good for them, C. It’s chill,” Nursey says, not looking away from where his fingers are curled up with Dex’s.

The fines are worth it.

[clownfuckery]

A Monster for a Mate -  Chapter 2

PENNYWISE X OC / RATED M

A/N:  Pennywise and Luseres finally meet!  Thank you so much for the likes and reblogs, they mean a lot to me! :)

Previous Chapters:

Prologue | Chapter 1

-----

1. Welcome to Derry!

“Welcome to Derry Town House.  Do you have a reservation?”

“I don’t.  Do you have rooms available?”

“We do.  May I have your name please?”

“Luseres Dietrich”

The pretty young clerk gave me an odd look.

“Could you spell that for me please?”

I did.   She tapped away at her keyboard, every now and then looking up at me from the somewhat dated monitor.  She gave me a generic smile, the type that clerks learn to master wonderfully:  Those mechanical twitches of the corners of the mouth that serve only to reassure the costumer that they notice them there.

“King, queen, or double, ma’am?”

“King.  Do you have any suites?”

“We do.  Our upper floor rooms have a sitting room and a nicely sized jacuzzi tub in the bathroom.   They have a balcony.  Not large, but they fit a lounge chair.  The suites face Kansas Street, looking toward Old Cape and the airport.  A pretty sight this time of year”

“That will do.  Can you book me for a week?”

“Ayuh, I can do that” the young woman replied, in her pleasant Yankee twang.  Her blonde hair was half pulled back by two butterfly hair clips, the ones I remembered wearing in my teens.  She looked to be no more than twenty-three. 

“Summer job?” I asked, unable to help myself.  This time, her smile was genuine.

“Every year” she said “I grew up here, but I go to NYU.  Been working at the Town House since I was 16”

“You must love your home town.  I mean, to come back”

“I do.  There is no other place like Derry for me.  Not in the whole world.  What brings you to Derry?   You’re here for business or pleasure?”

“Solitude, I hope” I answered before realizing it.  Her brow furrowed in curiosity.  “I mean, I’ve been told by a…” friend?  Hardly from it. The Man in Black who left me standing in the middle of Main Street and walked away into nothing?  “…an acquaintance that is familiar with the place that he loves coming here” Or through here.

The clerk was studying me now, as if seeing me for the first time since I walked through the glass double doors and crossed the faded Turkish rug.

“Wait… have I seen you somewhere?” she asked suddenly, and I felt my back go rigid.  

Shit.

“Um… I d-don’t s-ee where or how-w” I stammered.  God, please don’t let her watch the news.  She did go to NYU, did she not? She must have seen me when I appeared on the Today show, being introduced as the new Christine. I swallowed hard, and she must not have noticed my apprehension, because she shrugged.

“Maybe you have a long-lost twin at NYU” she joked, and I forced myself to laugh along.  

“You never know who may look like who” I said, returning the shrug and putting my hands in my pockets to keep them from shaking.

“How are we looking at that room?” I asked, suddenly wanting nothing more than a bed and ten hours of sleep.  

“All I need is you ID and credit card to put on file” she said pleasantly, folding her arms on the desk.

I reached down into my purse and retrieved my wallet. I handed her my driver’s license and American Express.  After a minute or two of her tapping away, she went to fetch the papers from the printer.  I took the opportunity to look around.  I noticed a fireplace that hosted a real log, but no trace of it having been used in a long time.  Padded couches and plants adorned the lobby.  Above me, a mural was painted onto the ceiling, depicting images of logging men, perhaps from the town’s past.  I was still fixed upon the mural, hearing the sound of axes upon massive tree trunks, the shouts of “TIMBER!” and the sudden crack of trees snapping, the huge, earth-shaking thud as they…

“Here you go” the clerk’s voice brought me back to reality, and I shook my head slightly.  For a second I had felt like I could really hear the sounds of this town, the echoes of long ago.  

“How old is this town?” I asked as I took the pen from her hand and scribbled my signature.

“Oh, going on past three hundred years.  Nothing really happens in Derry.  Not like in places such as Bangor close by.  I mean, business has boomed since I was a little girl, but not really big like some would expect.  I guess Derry is in its own little world, and for all its faults and antiquatedness, people prefer it that way.  By the way, is that even a word?”

“Antiquatedness?” I chuckled.  I returned the pen and she handed me back my cards.  

“Yeah”

“You’re the NYU student.  You should know.  What’s your major?”

“Classic Literature.  Hmm.  My professor would be having a cow right about now” she said seemingly dumbfounded and a little amused.  She stuck two card keys into the scanners, then placed them in a holder and handed them to me.  “Your room is 629, on our top floor.  When you get off the elevator, make a left and it is the second to the last room on your right.  Menus for room service and wifi password are in your room.  Dial 0 if you need to get in contact with the front desk.  I’ll be here till nine tonight.  Is there anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

“What time does the bar close?”

“At ten on weekdays, same as the restaurant.  Yes, I know, a little too early, but I don’t make the rules” she laughed, seeing my surprise “but they serve great cocktails.  The bartender is a childhood friend of mine.  Gary is his name. Dinner food is not all that great, but the restaurant serves the most amazing breakfast.  Best bacon this side of Maine, if you don’t mind me saying.  Lunch is okay.  There are better restaurants that serve lunch and dinner at Mall Road.  The Jade of the Orient is one of my favorites.  Amazing chicken tenders.  Can’t get anything that good in New York”

“Any other bars in town?”

“Just one: The Falcon, by the bus station.  It usually pulls an exclusive type of crowd.  You know, LGBT.  But it’s the best place to get a drink, be in great company, and not have to worry about men groping you or putting something in your drink”

“That’s good to know” I mused, and I reached for my purse and luggage.  Her eyebrows rose the moment she noticed my Louis Vuitton suitcase.  I looked completely out of place in a small New England town.

“Let me call you a bell boy” she said, reaching for the phone.  I instantly waved the offer off.

“Oh no, I got it.  I brought only one”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  Positive.” I had only taken two steps away when her voice stopped me again.

“Um… can I ask you something?” Her voice shook with uneasiness.

Oh crap, she recognized me.  She’ll tell everyone and there go my plans for peace and quiet.  ‘Scarlett Gregorian’s in town!’ she’ll scream through the streets.  Was it too late to cancel my reservation? I steeled myself and turned with the most generic smile I could muster. 

“Sure”

“Your last name.  Dietrich.  That’s German, right?” 

I sighed loudly.  My eyes closed at the flood of relief that washed through me.  She, on the other hand, took it differently.

“I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to intrude”

“No, no.  I thought…. Never mind.  Yes, it’s German.  My parents are” 

“Oh, but…” she stopped herself, and her cheeks flushed red.  She was embarrassed.  I knew exactly what she meant to ask, and I laughed.  

“My adoptive parents are German” I explained.

She looked at me with a mixture of relief and awe.  “Where are you from?  You look so… exotic”

“Argentinian by birth but Armenian by blood” I stated matter-of-factly.

“Wow.  Armenian,” she breathed the word as if it were a wonder.  “Don’t they have some of the most ancient and rare blood types on the planet?  I learned that in Ancient History class”

“Oh, you have no idea.  By the way, antiquatedness is a real word” I smiled at her, winked, and made for the elevator.  She laughed heartily.

“Welcome to Derry!” I heard her call out as the elevator doors closed.

2. The Falcon Bar

Sleep never came.  By 9 I was simply laying on top of the bedding, staring up at the intricate pattern on the ceiling.  There was something in the air, something I could not place.  I felt it the moment I dropped my bags and threw myself on the somewhat stiff bed.  I let out a sigh, breathed in… and there it was.  It seemed to hang heavily, not entirely a scent, but a feeling.  For some strange reason, I imagined a mortuary shroud that hung over the entire town.  I shook it off, laughing at myself for being an idiot.  I had lived under watchful eyes for so long I no longer knew what it felt to be totally alone.  But why wasn’t I overjoyed?  Shouldn’t I be jumping on the bed until my knees trembled like jelly and my legs gave way? Shouldn’t I be screaming from the balcony that I was free at last, laughing to the wind?  

On a whim, I threw my legs over the bed and reached for my suitcase.  I donned a low-cut body suit, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and black pumps.  A few minutes later, my cosmetics were dumped all over the bathroom sink and I emerged ready for a night out.  I stuffed my room key, driver’s license and credit card into the hidden pocket inside my trench coat, threw it on, and left the suite.  It was 9:40 when I sat on one of the stools of the bar downstairs and ordered a cocktail.

“You sure that’ll be enough?  We close in twenty” the bartender said when he put it down.

“Gary, right?” I asked, taking a sip.  The hotel clerk wasn’t kidding, the cocktail was divine.

“Yeah.  You’re new in town.  Stacy told me”

“Stac…?”

“What was it that I told you?” a voice behind me said.  I turned to find the clerk, now dressed for her own night out, walking up to the bar and sitting beside me.  Gary placed a Blue Moon in front of her.

“Hello, Stacy” I smiled, tipping my cocktail.

“Hello, Luseres” she replied, doing the same with her Belgian white.

“No butterfly hair clips now, I see” I chuckled, motioning to her short halter dress, fishnet stockings, spike heeled booties, and leather coat.  Her blonde hair now hung loose, and she wore red lipstick.  She looked like a perfect Newyorker.

“Not after 9” she winked “I would ask if your room was to your satisfaction, but I’m not on the clock”

“That you would, and the room is fine.  No questionable white stains on my sheets”

She and Gary laughed.  

“So where are you going?” she asked.

“Nowhere.  Just came down for a drink”

Stacy and Gary gave me a look.

“There’s no way you’re going to waste looking like a total knockout on the restaurant bar.  Come with us, we’ll take you to the Falcon.  Gary and I are actually going on a double date to the movies, but we can walk you there.  Get you introduced”

“I know a few of my friends are there tonight.  Good fellas.  Come on, get some air.  You sure didn’t come all the way to Derry for a cocktail twenty minutes before the restaurant closes, now did ya?”

I nodded, looking into my glass.  Perhaps hanging out with a bunch of gay fellows, drinking merrily and laughing at their perfectly timed jokes was exactly what I needed.  Anything to lift the haze that seemed to settle over my head.

“Sounds like fun” I said, downing the cocktail.

The Falcon was everything that was promised.  From the moment I entered through the small door, there was a perfect ambiance of cheerful camaraderie.  The clientele was mostly exclusively male.  The few women there sat in pairs or were mixed in with the men.  A small platform in the corner hosted a small band.  The place was only half full.

“Wait till midnight, this place will be packed” Stacy whispered as we made our way inside.    Gary motioned to three young men at the bar, and I was introduced to Jayson, Riley, and Paul.  Paul, an accountant from Bangor, was Gary’s cousin.  Jayson was a manager at one of the mall shops, and Paul said he lived in Portland.  He shook my hand almost too eagerly.  I could feel his transfixed gaze on me as Gary and Stacy said their goodbyes and left.

“Oh my god” Paul finally burst after we were seated “it’s you”

Oh shit.

“Who?” I asked innocently. The other two looked at him confused.

“Don’t pretend.  You’re Scarlett Gregorian.  Guys, she’s the girl in The Phantom.  We went to see it at the Merrill, remember?  It’s her.  Christine Daae”

“Holy shit!” cried Riley, taking one good look at me “you ain’t kidding!”

“Oh my god, I love you” swooned Jayson “you were a vision.   The way you sang Think of Me, it was like… angels were blessing us from above” he clutched his chest and looked up as if entranced.

I laughed.  “Thanks guys, but please, don’t tell anyone.  I came here to get away from it all”

They all nodded in understanding.  “Your secret is safe with us” winked Riley.

“Oh, and don’t call me Scarlett.  Call me Luseres.  Lus for short.  It’s my real name”

“I knew Scarlett Gregorian was a stage name.  Nobody has names like that nowadays” laughed Paul.

The drinks flowed.  Conversation with those guys was effortless.  They loved pop culture, the arts, and were surprisingly well versed in Derry history. They loved their hometown, a sentiment I found was shared by all who seemed to feel fortunate enough to grow and live in Derry.  They talked of white Christmases, vibrant springs, and warm lazy summer days spent splashing around in the quarry or playing in a place they called The Barrens.  It wasn’t until they began talking about the social atmosphere of the town that their faces fell.  

“A friend of ours was killed three months ago, not far from here.  Some homophobic assholes attacked him and his boyfriend” Riley finally said.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry”

“You see, Derry is not entirely… welcoming of us” Jayson explained “and there seems to be a lot of tragic events and freak crimes that happen every few years.  It’s weird, really”

Paul nodded.  “In the eighties, a bunch of kids went missing.  Some bodies were recovered, some not.  They finally found out that it was a high school kid who went crazy and started killing his classmates”

“Jesus” I winced.

“It got so bad, they had a curfew and everything.  My momma told me that kids couldn’t be outside past 7.  And you know what the weirdest thing is?”

I looked at them expectantly.

“It never made national news.  Nothing that happens in Derry ever catches national attention.  It all just seems to be… buried” Jayson said.

I stirred my vodka tonic, staring at the ice cubes clinking inside the glass.  If Derry was in fact a portal to another dimension, it was no wonder that weird shit would happen in the town.  I remembered how I felt back at the hotel, that heavy feeling that seemed to press me down, almost stifling.  It seemed like a presence looked down on Derry, manipulating and constricting.   I could almost feel someone watching me.  I felt a shiver go down my spine, and I shuddered.

“Well, it seems I picked the wrong town to hide in” I joked, almost sarcastically.

All three laughed.  “Nah, you’re ok.  Aside from the homophobia and missing kids, Derry is the best place to be” said Paul.

“What was your friend’s name?”

“Adrian.  Adrian Mellon”

I raised my glass.  “To Adrian”

“To Adrian!” they echoed loudly, and to my surprise, everyone in the bar raised their glasses.  

“We love you forever, Adrian!” a guy in the back shouted, and we all downed our drinks.  

“Well, enough of that sad talk.  Let’s drink!” exclaimed Riley, and he called for a refill.  Elmer, the owner, was a kind, older man who poured and mixed drinks to perfection.  He flirted with me, asked constantly if I was enjoying myself, and made sure to engage in small talk with every patron that walked through his door.  

By midnight, the place was full and alive.  The band now played today’s hits and a space was cleared in the middle for dancing.  I was literally pulled by my new three friends, but before I knew it, I was singing Rihanna songs at the top of my lungs, and danced until my feet could go no more.  I ended the night barefoot at the pool table, kicking everyone’s ass at 8-ball.

Silently I thanked Stacy, the pretty hotel clerk, and her friend Gary for walking me there.

3. The Call of the Siren

2:45 a.m.


We walked down the clean, pristine boardwalk that ran down the length of the Canal.  Antique light posts lined down the path, bathing the small park in ethereal light.  It was now close to 3 a.m.  The bar had closed down at 2, and without a moan from the packed establishment, everyone had simply gathered up their things and filed out in small groups, dispersing into the darkened town.  For a moment I wondered how everyone seemed to simply feel at ease, considering the murder that happened recently and the hostility that seemed to be prominent in the small town.  The memory of Adrian Mellon was alive in the bar, but once outside in the crisp night air, the danger was forgotten.  Riley, Jayson, and I chatted away.  Paul walked ahead, dancing down the boardwalk.  

“’Cause Uptown Funk will give it ya… Saturday night and we in the spot…” he belted as he stinky-legged past benches and rose bushes.

“Shut up, you twit” Riley called out.  Paul gave him the finger.  We all laughed. We eventually reached a roofed bridge built out of red painted beams.  The laughing, singing, and stinky-legging stopped abruptly.

“They call it the Kissing Bridge” Jayson said “It’s for carving names and sucking face”

“And bumping uglies” Paul said, but there was no humor in his voice.

“This is where it happened” Riley said, barely above a whisper “they threw him down and…” his voice broke.

I examined the bridge.  It was something out of stock photography.  A perfect, triangular roof topped the structure and window shutters lined the length of the bridge.  Beneath, the sound of gentle running water drifted up like a lullaby.  It was impossible to imagine that the scene of such a heinous, horrific murder had happened at such a beautiful location.  Or in this town.  In the short hours since my arrival, the thought had already been established in my mind that Derry was the most beautiful place I had ever seen.  

I walked up to the entrance of the bridge, and noticed the small lights that were placed strategically at three equally-spaced places on the roof.  For a second, I wondered what was on the other side…

“Lus…” Jayson said.  I turned to him and noticed his hands in his pockets and his feet shuffling on the gravel.  “Could you… sing?  Here? Please?”

I smiled at the thought.  It was a beautiful sentiment.

“What would you like me to sing?” I asked softly.

“Think of Me” Paul called.   All three looked at one another and nodded in agreement.

I walked to the edge where the boardwalk and the entrance to the bridge met, oblivious to the fact that I was standing on the exact spot where Adrian Mellon had leaned over backwards before plunging down to meet his greatest horror.  I drew in a breath, feeling the cool stillness of the Maine night air, looking up at the star-studded sky.  Orion, the hunter, was most prominent.  I looked within to the far recesses of my mind, that locked vault of painful memories from whence my singing voice came.  I was immediately engulfed by that fully familiar yet inexplicable sadness that had walked beside me since my childhood, and I let 12-year-old Luseres come through.

“Think of me
 Think of me fondly
 When we've said goodbye
 Remember me
 Once in a while
 Please promise me you'll try…”

They were crying, all three of them.  Riley choked up a sob, Paul dabbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and Jayson placed an arm around each.  As I sang, I became aware of shuffling in the bushes around and under the bridge.  Pairs of heads popped up in the dark:  Couples, startled by the sudden song that drifted in the air, had ceased their lustful exertions and looked around curious.  I sang louder.

“We never said our love was evergreen
 Or as unchanging as the sea
 But if you can still remember
 Stop and think of me…”

I walked down the boardwalk slowly, stopping ever so often at the railing and singing out into the night.  Below, the Canal hummed gently, the soft rush of water that drifted upwards and carried my voice downstream.  And then, I slowly felt the air change, as if a vibration seemed to echo back at me from deep within the ground.  Maybe it was Adrian, or maybe, no, it felt different.  It felt… Inhuman.  Like a deep, groaning rumble that reached out to me from the other side of the Canal.  

“Think of all the things we've shared and seen
 Don't think about the way things might have been…”

As the lyrics poured out of me of their own accord, I began to survey the area around me.  My eyes were fixed on the opposite bank, on the silhouettes of trees and plant growth.  There was nothing but black and grey shadows.  I shook away the feeling, and then, as I drew in a breath to sing the next stanza, the song drowned in my throat.

There was someone watching me on the other side, from a semi-hidden position, crouched between two bushes. I could see the paleness of his face from where I stood.  On closer inspection, I noticed that his skin was more than pale, it was ghastly white.  He seemed to be smiling, then I realized that the grin was only painted on his features, a smile that from the distance seemed to reach his eyes in two undulating lines.  Tufts of wispy red hair protruded from his head.  The white clothes that covered his entire body seemed to shine like silver in the darkness.  With a gasp, I realized it was a clown.  He waved at me. 

“Lus?”  it was Jayson who pulled me out of my shock.  I let out a long breath, and found my voice again.

“Think of me
 Think of me waking silent and resigned
 Imagine me trying too hard
 To put you from my mind…”

I was leaning slightly over the railing, and unbeknownst to me, I was no longer singing to the three men behind me, I was singing to my secret audience on the opposite bank.  I was transfixed, feeling myself being pulled by a magnet.  I belted out the last stanza, letting my voice float straight toward him as if it were a siren song.

“Recall those days
 Look back on all those times
 Think of the things we'll never do
 There will never be a day
 When I won't think of you!…”

The clown stood slowly.  The silver white silk of his suit glistened in the darkness, and as he came to full height, I took notice of the single red balloon in his right hand.  He stretched out his hand and offered it to me as I brought the song to its melancholic yet triumphant climax.  

“Flowers fade
 The fruits of summer fade
 They have their seasons
 So do we
 But please promise me that sometimes
 You will think…

I paused for a second, and felt my heart swell.

“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ho!
 Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ho!   Ho-oh-oh-oh-ohhhh-
of me!”

The clown let go of the red balloon with a most exaggerated gesture.  He twirled and threw his hands up in the air in a show of pure delight.  I curtsied to him, and when I looked up, he was gone.  

Only the balloon remained, floating upwards into the darkness.

“That was amazing!” Riley cheered.  Paul and Jayson clapped, and they all embraced me.  

“Did you see him?” I asked.

“Who?” asked Paul.

“The clown.  He was really into it” I laughed, looking up at the sky. The red balloon had now drifted out of view.

All three looked at me completely puzzled.

“What clown?”

End of Chapter 2

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 3

-----

Tagged: @hello-helianthus

[alspartame]

Trager had been waiting for the better part of an hour for Gluskin to finish getting dressed for an outing. They needed food and supplies, and Eddie was the only one of their group that looked normal enough to walk into a store.

“Hey Ed! Haul ass! I’m not gonna wait another minute!” Trager stormed towards the washroom Eddie was in, doing god knows what.

Eddie peeked out. A heavy miasma of after-shave seeped out with him. Trager reeled back in disgust. God, he could taste it on his tongue.

“Just a moment, woman! I’m nearly done!”

The door slammed shut in Trager’s face.

Rick skulked back to the main entrance where Chris Walker was attempting unsuccessfully to tie his boots.

“Dumbass called me a woman again, you believe that Chrissy?”

“Part of his pretending.” Walker said. “Tells himself everybody else is girls, cause he thinks girls are weak.”

Memories of Pauline Glick flashed in their minds.

“Yeah well he’s wrong.” Rick bent to help the big guy with his laces.

“Ayuh.” Chris agreed. “Big bow, Rick.”

“Yeah I know how ya like it.”

—

Thanks to Eddie it was another hour until they got on the road. He didn’t notice their annoyance. Rick always drove during these supply runs. The Audi was his, and had been kept in his reserved parking spot even after Trager was demoted from employee to experiment. 

A trophy to Jer. Proof of his victory. Part of his shitty sense of humor.

“When do you suppose the Boss will return to us?” Eddie asked either of the other variants.

Rick was lifted out of a fog of bitter memories by that annoying voice.

“Huh? Oh, Fingers? Yeah. Dunno bud. But don’t you worry. You’ll have your present soon.” Rick surprised himself with a smile. “He’s been a man of his word so far.”

It didn’t even bother Rick much that their “boss” was the only one who got any respect from Eddie. He had more than earned loyalty from the three of them. They literally owed him their lives.

Once they pulled up to the usual gas station Rick gave Gluskin a credit card in Jer’s name.

“Go wild, pretty boy.”

As usual, Eddie took his time. Rick wanted to stretch his legs, but couldn’t risk anyone noticing his extremely uncommon appearance.

“So. Chrissy.” Rick had to break the silence. Hated silence. “Do you remember what it was like? The … Waking up? Dying? Death? Any of it?”

Chris breathed through the holes where his nose had been.

“Like sleeping. No. Dreaming. A warm and happy dream about the farm with Mom and Pop. We were harvesting. They were strong like when I was young, so it was easy work for us. Then Boss came, with a black dog at his side. He greeted us, all polite like a preacher.”

As Walker spoke, Rick watched Eddie lumber through the convenience store, frantically checking the shopping list and frequently bothering the cashier. He was leaning against the glass and putting on the charm, and even from the end of the parking lot Rick could tell the wage slave wasn’t into it.

Eddie no longer had the rash. He was still mad as a hatter, and Rick reasoned it was Eddie’s blatant madness that was canceling out his good looks.

This amused Rick immensely.

Chris was still going on about his afterlife.

“My folks were charmed. I was weary. The black dog seemed mean. But then Boss helped us with the harvest. While we worked he came over and told me he needed my strength. He needed me to keep the world safe, and when our work was done, he needed me to take his head so he could be free, and his words made my heart trust he was good and I knew this was important. More important than the tomatoes and the pigs. I said okay. Then I woke up, and you and Eddie were there.”

“That’s a lovely dream buddy.” Rick had tuned out halfway.

“Ayuh.”

Eddie came running out with dozens of bags and a grin.

“Doc, did you dream too?” Asked Chris.

“I’ll tell you about it another time buddy.” Rick locked the door just as Eddie tried to get in. Eddie struggled with the handle cluelessly. “It wasn’t as nice as your story.”

Eddie began pounding on the window.

“Okay, Doc. Whenever you wanna tell about it.”

“Sure thing.” Rick only let Eddie in once the windows cracked. “Sorry, buddy, I think the door broke!”

Eddie was no fool. 

He flat out sucker punched Rick.

Rick was no longer concerned with keeping a low profile. He laughed, bordering on the hysterical, grabbed Gluskin’s still buried fist, and launched after him.

What ensued was a brawl in the parking lot of the gas station which only came to an end once Chris finally decided to break it up.

He picked up each man by the head and pointed their battered faces towards the cashier, who was staring back at them, horrified more by Trager and Walker’s disfigurement than the fight.

She had a phone in her hand.

“Shit.” Rick hissed. He managed to throw one more punch at Eddie.

He and Eddie started trying to fight each other until Chris smacked their skulls together and threw the two knocked out hotheads in the car. He sped off, with Trager and Gluskin’s bodies tossing around the back.

—

Back at the asylum, two feet hovered above the ground, never touching it as they ghosted beyond dry leaves and rubble. These feet silently rested at the front door, which had been left wide open.

“I’m gonna tan their asses.” Was muttered in many irritated voices all at once. The owner of all those voices looked down at the body gathered in his arms. “Too late to send him back. Can’t have him tattling on us.”

A human shape, swathed in shadows, whispered in the strange man’s ear.

“I know. We promised him." 

The man and his sentient shadow entered the looming building. Within was a roaring fire, started from a few lit candles that had been left unattended by three scatterbrained murderers. 

A flock of screaming, shambling men, all mutilated in some way, came running out towards the man. He was knocked to the floor. Many arms embraced him.

His shadow floated away and cast its nanites over the fire, smothering it out. 

"Yeah, yeah, daddy is home and- hands outta the pockets! Hey!”

“Missed you!” “Savior! Our savior!” “They left, they left!” “Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!” And all the like were shouted by the swarm of men.

“I know, I know.” Miles sighed and pet all the heads he could reach.

These were the survivors of Mount Massive. He had tasked Trager, Walker, and Gluskin with protecting them, and yet they’d left the flock unsupervised and without permission.

When those three came back, he was going to have a word with them.

[joylee56]

Have You Tried Turning It On and Off?

For Ifishouldvanish; Happy RCIJ!

For the prompt, ‘Hey, you’re the jerk...’

Rating: Explicit; Also Lacey has a potty mouth.

“I’m pretty sure nurse maid isn’t part of my job description.”  Lacey said.  

“You’re the project manager.  Babysitting is pretty much what project managers do.”

(part 2 of 3)

When she got off work she headed over to talk to Ruby at the diner. She would still need to work some shifts at the diner to eat and keep the lights on until her first paycheck came in.  Besides she wanted to see if anybody had shown any interest in the roommate ad she had tacked to the bulletin board.  

Seemed like her luck was starting to look up.  She had managed not to get fired from Golden Hat and Ruby said someone had asked about the apartment.  

“So what's with Gold and Jeff?”  She asked Ruby.  “They're a lot more than business partners.  I mean, Gold reminds him to take his meds.  But my gaydar isn't getting any pings off either of them and they don't live together.”

Ruby shrugged. “Don't know.  I always figured they were a couple.”

Granny sniffed as she came in from the kitchen.  “You girls.  Not everything is about sex.”

“Only the good stuff.”  Lacey put in before Ruby could.  Granny took lip from her that she would never stand for from Ruby.  “C'mon Granny.  I'm going to be working for them.  Give a girl some context?”

Granny went over to get herself some coffee.  Clearly she was in the mood for a gossip. “Well, they're both from away so I don't know a lot about them.”

Which only meant she could not tell you their birth weight and great-grandparent's favorite color.  Lacey made a 'go on' noise.

“Seems like Gold and Jeff's late wife, Alice, worked together at some big computer company.”  Granny took a minute get just the right amount of milk and sugar in her coffee.  Then she came over with the pot to freshen Lacey's.  “Microsoft?  Apple?  I forget.

“Gold moved here when his wife, Milah –  nasty piece of work that.  Always trying to trying to rile folks up about some environmental thing or another.”

“She's the one who got Styrofoam banned.”  Ruby clearly remembered.

“Ayuh.”  Granny nodded.  “She got a job at the NOAA station down the coast.  He trailed along after her.  Guess you can fix computers pretty much anywhere so it sort of made sense that they'd go where her job took them.  Anyway, they settled here rather than down the coast cause old Doc's place was up for sale and it was zoned so as he could run his business from there.  

“Give Gold credit, he's a savvy business man.”  Granny admitted reluctantly.  “Not only does he manage to save cost of renting store space by running it out of that house, but he managed to take the money from the place they owned before they moved here and spread it out to buy up other properties besides the house.  Owns the building the Rabbit Hole is in and that little strip mall on the highway.”

Which probably made him a force to be reckoned with in Storybrooke.  

“Anyway, Milah didn’t last very long with NOAA.  Too much of a rabble rouser at a guess.  Got a job studying the ocean with some environmental group. Leaving Gold to manage a toddler on his own as well as run a business.”  Granny shook her head.  “Lot of the town disapproved. Me, well women have been doing that for centuries without anybody getting het up about it.  And Gold didn’t seem to mind.”

“So how does Jeff fit into this?”  Lacey asked.

“Jeff’s wife, Alice came to town to work with Gold on some job he was doing for the state.”  Granny frowned.  “She explained it to me once, but I didn’t understand one word in five.  There was quite some talk about that.  Young woman, staying with a married man whose wife was out of town.  Although it was only for a month or so before Jeff turned up and the two of them bought that big old place on the edge of town.  Guess they liked Storybrooke.  Their little girl came along shortly after that.

“The three of them, Gold, Alice and Jeff set up in business together.  Milah started coming home less and less frequently.  Seems she found herself another man and eventually Gold divorced her and got custody of the boy.

“About three, no four years ago now, Jeff and Alice were in a bad car accident.  She died.  He was in hospital for a long time and recovering in a nursing home for months after that.  Gold took in the little girl and looked after her while Jeff was recovering.  Which caused even more talk, because folks remembered how Alice had lived with Gold for a while so of course claimed little Grace was his rather than Jeff’s.”

“Is she?”  Jeff clearly did not think so.

“Unlikely as Alice was a good four months gone when she came to town.”  Granny shook her head.  “Too many people in this town don’t have a lick of sense, but talk anyway.”

The next day, Gold handed her some cheat sheets on how to use the bookkeeping system along with a box of financial records and told her,  “You said you were good at bookkeeping.  Make yourself useful.”

The spreadsheet Gold had set up proved to be pretty intuitive and the books were not actually in that bad a shape.  She was running a report on the accounts receivable when the phone rang with a repair problem.  Gold had come upstairs in search of tea so just took the phone from her when she waved it at him.  She listened in out of curiosity.

“Have you rebooted the machine?”  Clearly the answer was yes.  “And what does the error message say?  Right.  I should be there in half an hour or so.  In the meantime disconnect the other machines from the local area network.  If you’re lucky it’s not a virus, but lets not take the chance.”

When he got off the phone, he told her.  “This will be your trial by fire, Dearie.  Keep an eye on Jeff.  He looks like he’s heading into an upswing.  So don’t let him decide to rewrite all of the game he’s been working on.  Take the calls that come in.  If there’s a real emergency call or text me.  My cell is 2 on the speed dial.  Keep the kids from burning down the house as best you can.”

As it turned out it was a quiet afternoon.  Neal was working on an essay in the kitchen and Jeff decided to take Grace paint-balling.  Lacey decided that he was the boss and if he wanted to take off early it was none of her business.  Besides if he was paint-balling she did not have to worry about what he might be doing to the code Gold was concerned about.

Neal would clearly have rather gone paint-balling, but he had dutifully turned down the invitation to work on his essay.

Lacey offered him tea and sympathy or rather.  “You want a scone?  There are a couple left from yesterday.”

“Sure.” He perked up at the offer of food.  They had a fairly companionable afternoon with him working on his essay and Lacey researched project scheduling programs.  Cause the one she had used at Megacorp was overkill for a three person company.

“This spreadsheet program you’ve put together for your bookkeeping isn’t a half bad system.”  Lacey admitted when she and Gold took their Elevenses the next morning.  “Input’s easy and you can tweak the data in all kinds of ways.”

“Thank you.”  Gold told her.  “It’s actually a visible programmable calculator that I designed to  blend spreadsheet/calculator/programming functions.  I’ve upgraded it over the years as new devises and operating systems came along.  I even got it so that it will run on Android now if you want to load it on your phone.  Uhm, if you want?”

Lacey had gotten good enough at tech speak to understand just why that made the program so handy.  It would be definitely be good to have on her phone.  “Thanks.  How come I’ve never heard of this?  You need a better marketing campaign.”

“I can’t market it.  I don’t own the rights.  And you’ve never heard of it because I developed the original program as a work for hire while I was working for Enchanted Software and we sold exactly 113 copies of Vizeercalc before the company was acquired by Ogre Inc.”  Gold grimaced.  “Ogre bought Enchanted to kill all it’s product lines.  We were in direct competition with Ogre, and the software Alice and I were designing was better than the stuff Ogre was selling.”

“That sucks.”  Lacey said.  “Is that why you started Golden Hat?”

“It was a consquence.  I quit in a huff when they killed distribution of our software.  I went into business fixing computers because I didn’t understand my employment agreement when I signed on with Enchanted.” Gold sighed.  “I’ll never make that mistake again.  There was a non-compete clause in the contract I had with Enchanted that basically wouldn’t allow me to do any kind of programming that was the same as what I had done while I worked with them.  Which pretty much kept me from getting another job in the industry.”  

Glancing at the spreadsheet on her computer, Lacey commented.  “You couldn’t have programmed a version of this to run on Android back before Neal was born.  Did they even have Android back then?”

“It was just getting started.”  Gold grinned.  “According to our lawyer, remind me to introduce you to Regina the next time we talk to her by the way, stuff I do for my own personal use isn’t covered by the non-compete.  I just can’t market it.  So I keep updating it to run on whatever devices I’m currently using.”      

“Is giving me a copy okay?”  Not that she cared.

“Probably not, but I doubt you and Jeff having copies is going to make it worth Ogre’s while to sue me.”

Gold was out when she got a frantic call from Ariel over at the cannery. The cannery was on a service contract.  “Our system is all locked up and I’m already behind on payroll.  If it isn’t up and running in the next hour nobody will get paid tomorrow!”

Which would mean a serious hit to the town economy.  The cannery was the town’s largest employer.

And Gold was out on a service call.

But according to Gold’s notes they were running a fairly standard server.  “Have you tried turning it off and on?”  She asked.

“I don’t know how!”  Ariel wailed.  “We never turn the darn thing off.”

“Okay, go down to the server room and call me from there. I’ll talk you through it.”

It was the work of only a few minutes to reboot the server.  

“It worked!”  Ariel crowed.  “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. You’re a life saver!”

“It’s what we do.”  Lacey told her smugly.  And booked it into the log as a service call.

When Gold looked at the log the next day he said,  “I don’t remember talking to the cannery yesterday.  Did you put this in wrong?”

“No, I talked to them.”  Lacey told him proudly.  “They just needed to reboot the server, but they didn’t know how so I told them.  You know for simple stuff like that I could help people. You should give me a list of diagnostic questions to ask so you don’t have to call them back before you head out on service calls.”

“I’ll think about it.”  

In the meantime she got started up upgrading the company website.  The research she had done made it clear they really needed to add a blog feature to increase traffic.  There was easy off the shelf software to set it up with.  She just needed to come up with a name and some stuff to blog about.  

Her duties were certainly varied.  They seemed to include helping Grace with her homework and helping Neal make flashcards for the team to practice with for the STEMletics as well as the computer stuff.

Thursday night she made up a strawberry trifle to serve Neal’s team as an after school snack.  If she was doing this she was doing it right.

Gold blinked at it in surprise.  “Uhm, I really wasn’t expecting you to feed the kids.  I’ve left meat pies for them.  Well some meat and some veg without the meat.  Morraine decided to become a vegetarian last summer.  There’s plenty for you and Jeff to have for lunch.”

“They’re teenagers.  They’ll eat both.”  She put her trifle in the fridge next to the containers of pies.  “Make it back early enough and I’ll try to save you some.”

The team consisted of Morraine, August, Emma and Neal.  They seemed like good kids.  A whole lot less rowdy than she and her friends had been. The trifle was a big hit.  Lacey ended up setting up a buzzer system that they could use on their phones to mimic the way the real competition would go.  She had to wonder why their coach had not thought to do it.  

“How long has Jeff been working on this game of his?”  She asked Gold over tea the following week.

“This game?”  He had to think about it.  “I’m not sure.  More than a year.”

“He anywhere near finishing it?”

“I haven’t looked at the code recently.”  Rum admitted.  “Usually he gets it about ninety percent done and then loses interest so I set a release deadline and go in and finish things off for him.  But I’ve been so busy with other stuff I haven’’t had the time.

“Although your doing the admin work has freed up some time.  I probably could go over it.”

“I was thinking if you could tell me what need to be done I could break it up into modules and set a time line for completing the work.  It might help him stay on track better.”

Gold considered. “That might work.  Just don’t set up a schedule that’s too tight.  If he can’t complete it, he’ll just get anxious and that’s not good.”

“So you tell me how long it should take and we double the time so he doesn’t have trouble meeting the goals.”  She suggested.  “It’s not like we’re on a real deadline here.”

“Triple it to be on the safe side.”

Jeff actually seemed pleased to have been put on a schedule.  Lacey had the impression it made him feel more professional.

The end of the month rolled around.  She and Gold had her ‘performance review’.  Or rather he told her over morning tea.  “You’ve actually done wonders for Jeff.  I haven’t seen him this happy with his work since the accident.  Which in turn keeps him more… stable mentally. And I got far more work done this month than usual.  So if you want to stay on you’re welcome to, but you could do much better career wise and financially at a larger company.  Why stay with us?”

“Cause I need to stay in Maine because of my Dad.”  She told him honestly.  

“He’s ill?” Gold asked sympathetically.

“No, he’s on parole.”  She thought the entire town knew this.  “He got involved in a money laundering scheme.  He gambles and his bookie had him doing that to pay off his losses.  Only he was crap at it and got caught.  We managed to keep him out of prison, but as part of his parole he can’t have anything to do with money or banking so I have to do all that for him.”

“So you’re staying in town to look after your felon father?”  Gold was incredulous.

She shrugged.  “He’s a good Dad.  I mean he gets on my case about the way I dress and the time I spend at the Rabbit Hole, but he loves me and he’d do anything for me.  He’s just crap with money.  You do for family right?  Sometimes even when they’re not blood.  I mean look at you and Jeff.”

“It’s the family you choose that’s important.”  Gold told her quietly.  “You’re lucky to have that kind of relationship with your Dad.”

So she stayed at Golden Hat.  Helping Grace with her home work and the team practice for the competition.  With all the work she put in she had to go see them compete.  Even if it meant missing Girl’s Night with Ruby.

“Let me get this straight.”  Ruby said.  “You’re skipping out on Girl’s Night on me to go watch a bunch of Junior High School kids answering nerdy questions?”

Put like that it was kind of weird.  She tried to explain.  “I’m kinda their coach. And I’m not skipping out I just won’t be able to get there much before ten.”

“Yeah, sure.  It’s all about the kids.  Nothing to do with your driving over there with Gold.”  Ruby smirked.  “I get it.  Well it’s no fun going for drinks by myself.  Tell you what.  Come get me when the nerd fest is finished.  We can still shoot some pool and get a couple of drinks.”

Clearly Ruby had the wrong idea.  But denying it would do more harm than good.

She had Google News set up to alert her for breaking tech news.  Most of it was just boring release announcements.  Occasionally it helped her find stuff to write about for the company blog.  Although the most hits they had ever had came from the post Neal convinced her to do about her scone recipe.  She was thinking of doing a follow up to it about Gold’s meat pies.

This alert caught her eye though.  She sent the link down to Gold.  Then stuck her head down the stairs and shouted.  “Hey. Rum, I just sent you a link you’re gonna want to look at.  Your nemesis, Ogre Inc., just got forced into bankruptcy.”

Jeff poked his head out.  “What’s that?”

“Ogre missed the release date on that security patch they’ve been promising on their bookkeeping program for like the third time.  Apparently it was the last straw and their creditors have forced them into bankruptcy.” Lacey told him.

“Oh, joyous day!” Jeff clapped and did a little dance.  “Couldn’t happen to a nastier bunch of people.  Where’s the story?  Any chance they fired that bully Hordor?  He used to make Alice so angry she’d come home and cry.”

“From the article is sounds like pretty much everybody’s getting sacked.”  Lacey pointed at her computer where the article was still up.

Jeff was reading through the article when the phone buzzed for the intercom system. Gold told her brusquely.  “Send Regina the link to the story and set up a conference call with her as soon as she’s available.”  

She had not been aware that Gold even knew how to use the intercom on the phone system.  He usually just came (or shouted) up stairs when he had something to tell her.  Figuring it must be important, she called the lawyer as soon as he hung up.

They lucked out and Regina was at her desk.  By the time Lacey had the equipment set up, Gold appeared from his lair with a rather tattered file folder.      

He started even before he was seated at the table with the speaker phone they used for conference calls.  “Did you get a chance to look at the news story?”

“I’ve got it in front of me now.”  Regina said.

“Am I right that this will put the company out of business and the Court will sell off the assets?”

“Well, there is always a chance they’ll be able to find someone who will want to buy it as an ongoing operation, but my experience with software company bankruptcies is that usually there’s only a few items of real value that get cherry picked and the rest will get auctioned off or sold to liquidators.”  Regina told him.  “You want a souvenir?”

“I do.”  Jeff said.  “Think we can get that fancy sculpture that was in the executive lounge?”

But Gold was serious.  “If we were able to buy back the rights to Vizeercalc, is there anything in my non-compete that would keep us from being able to market it ourselves?”

“Hmm.  That’s an interesting question.”  Regina said.  “I’ll pull the non-compete and review it, but I don’t think so.”

“Do that.”  Gold went on.  “What would we need to do to try and buy it back?”

“You say it’s an involuntary filing?  Contact the Court appointed Trustee and see what he wants for it.”  Regina responded.

“Can you do that for us?”  Gold asked.  “As soon as possible.  We don’t want to lose it to somebody else.”

“I’ve got the contact information for the Trustee.”  Lacey spoke up.  She had started looking as soon as Gold had asked about Vizeercalc.  

“Email it to me and I’ll talk to him.”  Regina closed with.

There was a moment of silence after that.  Then Jeff said.  “You’d need to modernize the user interface if you plan to market Vizeercalc.  It works fine but the look is too old fashioned for the current market.”

“You don’t want to modernize it too much.”  Lacey disagreed.  “Part of what makes it easy to use is that the menus are obvious.  Or you could do two versions one with symbols and one with the words you’ve got now.”

“Or have both options available.”  Jeff considered.  “It’s easy to add a couple of different style plug ins without adding much blot to the program.”

“We have to get the rights first.”  Gold was rubbing his fingers together.  “I’m not getting my hopes up.  I’ve been disappointed over this thing far too often.”

But that afternoon, Lacey found Jeff with a couple of different user interface options open on his screens.  “I thought we were waiting to see if we could actually get the program before we started working on it?”

“I’m just checking style libraries available.”  Jeff told her.  “If we get the rights, Rum is going to want to start marketing Vizeercalc as soon as we can.  He’s been waiting to get it out for near on fifteen years.  And the sooner we get it on the market the sooner the gold starts rolling in.  Alice was firmly convinced Vizeercalc would be a solid money maker.  It’s not sexy, but it’s the sort of app most tech types are going to want on their phone and tablet.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.”  She admitted.  “What if we had add-ons where you could like get pre-written bookkeeping or inventory control programs.  Or even just spreadsheets set up where you could download your banking information and keep track of your expenses.”

“Brilliant, little doily.”  Jeff enthused.  “Make up a list of things people might want to use.  I’ll bet Rum has most to them all ready written.”

“Cause we use it for most of that stuff now.”  Lacey had thought of that.  “Heck, I think Neal uses it for his school work.  There’s another market. High school and college kids.”

“And what Rum doesn’t know about our plans won’t hurt him.”  Jeff pointed out.

They grinned conspiratorially.

  Regina called back two days later.  “The good news is that the bankruptcy Trustee didn’t even know Ogre Inc owned the rights to Enchanted’s software and would be happy to let you buy it.  The bad news is that he’s smart enough to figure out you’re probably the only one interested in Enchanted’s code and so says he’ll sell Vizeercalc to you only if you also buy the rest of Enchanted’s product line as well.  Any idea what that would involve?”

“There were a bunch of drivers for devices that aren’t around any more.  None of which has any value.”  Gold had to think about it.  “Alice had some programming tools that were designed for C++ which would need some serious updating and frankly there is better stuff available now anyway.  Her back propagation algorithm were ground breaking at the time, but again would need serious updating, those would only be valuable to someone who was familiar with the work and could go in and tweak the code.”

“Like us.”  Jeff put in.

“Dakkar Nemo might be able to do something with it.  He worked with Alice on it, but I’m not going to call him up and ask.”  Gold said.  “Other than that there would only be the games.  Which are pretty primitive by today’s standards.  I suppose there is some value to the concepts and names.”

“Damn little.” Jeff snorted.  “You’d need to rewrite the things from scratch to get any kind of interest in them now.  A couple of the educational games might be worth doing something with.”

“I was more interested in a value.”  Regina told them.

“With the development costs to update them I can’t imagine anyone paying more than, maybe, $100,000 for the lot?”  Gold looked uncertain.

“The company is being liquidated.  These are going to be fire sale prices.”  Regina mused.  “So figure two-thirds going market rate.  You still interested?”

Gold was rubbing his fingers together.  Jeff looked at him questioningly.  After a minute Gold spoke.  “See if you can get him to accept less than $63,000 for the lot.”

“That is an interestingly specific number.  How did you arrive at it?”  Regina asked.

“It’s what I’ve got in liquid assets without having to dip into Neal’s college fund.”  Gold said.

“Well, I can’t make an offer using that as a basis.”  Regina retorted.  “Come up with a proposal the Trustee and I can present to the Judge as to how we valued this and I’ll make it.”

After she hung up, Jeff asked.  “Is this actually a good business decision or are we doing this because you’re still angry about Ogre deep sixing Vizeercalc?”

“I don’t know.” Gold told him.  “I’ve always felt that Vizeercalc could be big, but I don’t know whether it will actually sell enough to be worth this.

“Which is why I’m the one who’s going to buy that code.  Not the company.”

Jeff considered. “So you don’t intend to do anything with Alice’s neural net work?”

“I’m going to mine Enchanted’s product line for every dime I can squeeze from it.”  Gold said.  “But Alice was the neural net genius not me. I’m not sure I can do anything with it.”

“I kept her notes.”  Jeff said softly.  “It’s not my area, but maybe you can make more out of them than I could.”

“Maybe.”  Gold sounded doubtful.  “Thing was I just mostly did what Alice told me on the neural net side.  If anything I downplayed to Regina just how innovative her work was.  I’m, or rather I was, I’m rusty now, a smart designer, but Alice would have these sparks of sheer genius that I could figure out after she explained them, but had no clue how she came up with them.”

“She was one of a kind.”  Jeff agreed softly.

Lacey had been making notes of the conversation with Regina.  “We’re not going to get the chance to do anything with any of this if we can’t convince that Trustee to sell it to us.  Is Google going to tell me anything about what this stuff is worth or are we just going to pull numbers out to the air?”

Neither Gold nor Jeff had a clue.  Lacey sighed and went off to search the internet.

She was run off her feet between looking up values of really old off the market software and getting Jeff settled down and back to work.  “You’ll want to finish this game before we get the Enchanted software and you have new stuff to work on.  Here I’ll make you a nice up of tea with some of my biscuits and we can plan out what you’re going to do this week.”

But two day later she had some answers that would at least let them fake up some values for the Trustee.  It looked to her that Rum’s estimate was a little low.  She had called Regina herself to get some tips about how to shave down the offer.  The other woman had some useful suggests.  “… and emphasis that no one else is going to want this stuff.  If we can convince him of that he’ll take our offer cause it’s better than nothing.”

“Are we the only ones interested?”  She had been worried this was taking too long and somebody else would sweep in and buy it out from under them.”

“Based on the regular emails I’m getting from the Trustee asking if we have an offer yet, I’d guess yes.”  Regina had reassured her.  “Then again I don’t think he’s actually turned it over to a broker to market, so I suspect nobody else has figured out that he has it.”

Since they wanted to keep it that way, Lacey decided that finding more information took a backseat to speed.  Google provided her with a sample to use for submitting their proposal to he Trustee.

When she took went down to talk to Rum about it he was talking on the phone.

“… that’s the day of the regional competition.”  Pause.  “He’s part of a team, Milah.  Even if he hadn’t been looking forward to this thing for months, he’s not going to be willing to let his teammates down.”

Another pause.  “No, it’s not a sure thing they’ll make it as far as the regionals. But they could.”

He noticed her then and waved in the direction of the chairs.  “Tell you what.  Keep your plans to get here that day.  If they don’t make the regional competition you can pick him up and head out.  If they do you can come to the competition.”

Sighing deeply he added.  “I’ve got a spare room, Milah.  A couple of them in fact. We’ll put you up for the night.  Neal would love to have you and I’d rather you left in the morning than drove all night.”

This was apparently acceptable as he finished with.  “Good.  Email Neal and let him know.”

After he hung up, Lacey asked,  “Trouble with the ex?”

“Less than usual actually.”  Gold told her.  “Apparently Milah’s going to be spending the summer at Culebra, Puerto Rico doing some kind of study and she’ll be able to have Neal with her for the entire time.  Of course she wanted to pick him up for the visit on the day of the regional competition for STEMletics but we managed to sort that out so all’s well.”

“Unless his team places for the nationals in July.”  The kid’s schedules went onto her calendar to avoid conflicts with Rum and Jeff’s work.  

“I’ll be surprised if they make it to the Regionals.”  Rum said.  “It’s their first year and they’re competing against kids two and three years older than they are.”

“Maybe, but our kids are really sharp.”  When had she acquired a stake in the STEMaletes she wondered.

Shaking herself slightly, she told him.  “I roughed out a proposal.  It’s labeled Ogre_proposal on the company cloud.  Read through it and let me know what you think.”

Neal raised the issue his father she had predicted once he had talked with his mother.  “I mean spending the whole summer with Mum in the Caribbean would be great.  She gonna let me help with the study. It’s really important work studying ocean warming.  But the team is counting on me.  I can’t let them down.”

Lacey had left father and son alone in the kitchen to work out their family conflicts.  If the kitchen doors got left open so she could hear no big right?

Gold clearly could not withstand those big brown puppy dog eyes any more than she could. “If your team gets seated for the nationals you can fly back to compete and then return to Puerto Rico.  I’m sure your mother will be okay with that.”

“Uhm, aren’t plane tickets to the Caribbean expensive?”  Neal asked hesitantly. “I’m not sure Mum can afford another set.”

“I’ll pay for the tickets.”  Gold assured him.  “You and your mother don’t get that much time together.  You shouldn’t have to give up part of the summer with her if you win the competition.”

“Thanks, Dad! You’re the best!”

She and Gold hashed out the final version proposal the next morning over Elevenses.  They had agreed that the less Jeff was stressed about this the better.

Once they had that finished, Lacey could not resist bringing up.  “Since you don’t think the STEMaletes have got a shot at Nationals, you’re getting an awful lot of Dad cred for very little effort by promising to fly him back for it.”

“Milah’s taking him him to the Caribbean for the summer.  On top of being an Eco Warrior and saving the bloody planet.”  Rum growled.  “I have to compete with that while still being the responsible parent.  I’ll take my ‘cred’ as you call it where I can.”

Points to her for getting him to admit it.  By way of being a gracious winner she poured and prepared his tea for him.

After she handed it to him she asked,  “So you gonna hook up with the ex while she’s here?”

Rum sputter into his tea.  “God no!  I wouldn’t even assuming Milah were interested. Which she’s not remotely.   She and Killian have been disgustingly happy together for more than ten years now.  We’ve managed to establish… an equilibrium of civility when it come to being Neal’s parents.  There is no way I’d risk that.  Not for a quick shag.”

“Wouldn’t have to be quick.”  Lacey helped herself to a biscuit.  

“Generally was toward the end.”  Rum said dryly.  “Which should have clued me in a lot earlier than it did.”

“Yeah, crap sex is the first sign they’re losing interest.”  Lacey agreed.  “Gaston stopped trying long before you showed up and got us fired.”

“I did not get you fired.”  Rum denied.

Lacey shrugged.  She was too interested in pursuing something else she had noticed about his comment.  “Neal said you got divorced while he was in kindergarten.  That’s only eight years ago.”

“Yeah.”  Rum developed a sour look.  “She and Killian got together a couple of years before.  At first I just thought she was happier cause she was back sailing.  When I finally figured out she was a little too happy for it to be just enjoying her work, well, mostly I just pretended like I hadn’t.          

“We hadn’t been good for a while at that point.”  He stirred his tea unnecessarily. “Moving to Maine and having Neal was supposed to be us trying to make it work.”

“Didn’t take?” Lacey asked.

“I think it actually made things worse.”  Rum admitted.  “She didn’t really enjoy the sort of work she could do here at a land based research station.  She felt too tied down with a baby.  And I wasn’t very supportive about the way she felt.  I love being able to work from home and take care of Neal.

“Then she got the chance of doing research with Greenpeace.  We had a huge row over her taking that job.  The job requited her to be away from home four to five months at a time.  That pretty much put paid to our marriage even though we didn’t do anything about it legally for years after.

“So I wasn’t really surprised when she found someone else.  What I was surprised at was that she was willing to give up on Neal.  When he was four she calmly announced that she was leaving Greenpeace and joining this radical group calling themselves the Eco Pirates and her next expedition would have her gone for more than a year, well, I told her she had to make a choice.”

He looked up with a depreciating smile.  “She didn’t choose us.”

Lacey could understand wanting your freedom.  But that afternoon when she made tea for the kids she wondered about Milah’s choice.  You would have to be damn committed to a career to leave Neal behind.  She was pretty sure in Milah’s shoes she would have found another way. Hell, she had figured out how to stick around for Dad and still get herself a career she liked and that was nothing like leaving a little kid.  

Regina called back two days after they sent her the proposal.  “Can you come up with another $4000?  The bankruptcy Trustee won’t go lower that $67,000. But he’s willing to throw in gratos a total release for you from the non-competition agreement you signed with Enchanted Software.”

“Take it.”  Gold told her.  “I’ll find the money somewhere.  How soon can we get the source code?”

“He’ll hand it over at closing.”  Regina told him.      

“Tell him we can have the money together by the end of the week.”  Jeff told him. “And we want that release to include Alice as well.”

“Already thought of that.”  Regina assured him.

When the conference call ended,  Gold turned to Jeff.  “You’re not putting up your money for this.  This is my personal vendetta.  I won’t ask you to go along with it.”

“First, you didn’t ask.  I offered.”  Jeff sounded surprisingly coherent.  “Second I’m not going to use my money.  I’m going to use Alice’s money.  Those bastards shafted her just as much as they did you.  She would want to see her work released as much as you do.”

Gold looked like he was going to refuse for a moment, but finally nodded.  “We’re going to need some more coders.  You and I can’t do everything.  Do you think Dakkar would be interested?”

“Very likely. I’ll call and see.”

“Get me a list of qualifications you want and I’ll post an ad.”  Lacey told them. “I’m sure there are some kids at U Maine who wouldn’t mind some summer work.  You are going to be able to pay them I assume?”

The two men exchanged looks.  “Are we?”  Jeff asked.

“We’ll need to dip into the company reserves.”  Gold admitted.  “If we can finish the updates in a couple of months we won’t have to start using the kids’ college funds.”

They were on pins and needles for a week until the next call came.  Luckily the team had it’s finally local competition and placed to go on to regionals so they had something to else to think about.

Then the call came. “We got it.”  Regina announced.

“He’ll turn it over to us as soon as your check clears escrow.  I’ll meet him in Boston to hand over your paperwork and pick up the code.  Apparently it’s on antique hard drives.  I hope you’ve got a way to read them.”

“Uhm, Regina. We can’t afford to pay you to act as delivery girl.”  Gold told her.

“Don’t worry I’m only billing you for the time at the meeting itself.”  She told them.  “After all the trouble this stupid code as caused over the years, I’m not about to risk it going astray.  I’m going to hand carry it to Storybrooke myself.  It’s a nice little town and I deserve a weekend away.”

When they finished the call, Gold whispered,  “We did it.”

“If by did it you mean we just just used all your available cash to buy a whole hell of a lot of work then yeah.”  Lacey told him.  “But this is just the start.”

“Yeah, but tonight we celebrate.”  Jeff beamed at them both.  “Ice cream at Granny’s!”

“You’re buying.” Gold told him.  “I’m broke, remember?”

“I will even splurge for hot fudge and nuts.”  Jeff promised.  

While they were waiting for the code to get delivered Lacey finally showed Gold what she and Jeff had been working on.  “I did some plans about how long the different add-ons would take to have in shape to market.  Jeff and I think we should release the bookkeeping, inventory control and educational math ones when we release the main program.”

“You’ve already got half of the project scheduling figured out.”  Gold was impressed.

“I’ve always said, I’m a good project manager.”  She smirked.  “Admit it, you’re glad you hired me.”

“I’m not unhappy.”  He sipped his tea and admitted.  “It is rather nice to have an adult to talk to who I’m not constantly monitoring to make sure his meds don’t need adjusting.”

She was setting up an interview schedule with some of the U Maine students who had applied to work for them on the updates when Neal approached her looking very serious.

“Could you kind of keep an eye on Dad while I’m gone?”  He asked.  “When I'm gone he gets really into programming and when he does that sometimes he forgets stuff.”

“Like paying bills and doctors appointments?”

“More like eating and sleeping.”  Neal sighed.  “When he has Jeff to keep an eye on it keeps him on schedule.  But this year Grace is signed up for all these summer programs and Jeff's not going to be around as much.  If Dad loses track of time he may forget to check in on Jeff and Grace too.”  

“So I’ll need to keep an eye on Jeff as well?  I’m pretty sure nurse maid isn’t part of my job description.”    

“You’re the project manager.”  Neal pointed out.  “I grew up around computer geeks, remember?  Babysitting is pretty much what project managers do.”

“You have a point, kid.”  Lacey admitted.  “Okay, I’ll nag your Dad to look after himself, and Jeff, while you’re gone.  But you better call regularly and check up on us to make sure I’m doing my job right.”

Cause Rum was going to spend the summer worrying about the kid if he did not hear from him regularly.  Hell, he was going to spend the summer worried about him anyway.  Probably why he lost himself in programming while the kid was gone.

“I’ll call when I can and email when I can’t.”  Neal promised.  “But I Googled this place.  It’s kind of the back end of nowhere.  I’m not sure even how much internet access there’s going to be.  Let alone phone.”

“There’s a resort.”  Lacey had Googled it too.  Kid was not wrong.  “You can probably get cell coverage from there.  And a research station will need to have some kind of connectivity.  Even one running on the cheap.”