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everamazingfe · 4 years ago

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You Can Ride On My Rocket 69 - Chapter Twelve

A Song About Strength

Fic Summary: Jeremy has recently awoken in this strange world, 210 ten years after he was put to sleep, and is now the lone survivor from his vault. Trevor's a radio host from Diamond City who's barely left the station, lonely in his own right and isolated from the rest of the Wastes. When they meet, Trevor finally gets a chance to see the rest of the wasteland like he's always wanted, though Jeremy becomes more of his bodyguard than Trevor does his companion. They meet various people along the way, some being friends like the odd throuple they meet in one of the neighboring city, or foe like a certain Diamond City guard. Both are wary about bringing up their pasts, but the wasteland has a strange way of bringing people together.

Chapter Summary: Jeremy faces a setback in the search for his husband, but Trevor finds some courage. This chapter's song is "Mighty Mighty Man" by Roy Brown.

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Words in this chapter: Pairings: Jeremy/Trevor, Michael/Gavin/Lindsay, Jeremy/Matt Warnings for this chapter: Threats of violence, blood, gun violence, gore. The end of this chapter gets a little violent/graphic.

Notes: There’s a link to the first chapter of this fic as the source of this post! Click it to go read this fic over on A O 3, or you can search up the title or ‘everamazingfe’ on the site!

Also, I won't be posting a new chapter on the 1st/2nd of April because I've been getting very bogged down by schoolwork, and I just don't have the energy for everything I want to do. The next chapter will be posted on the 15th/16th of April. See you then!

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When Trevor woke up the next morning, there was a moment of confusion before he realized where he was, and who he was next to. He was much warmer than he was used to being, but it wasn’t the unpleasant and sweaty warmth that came after a nightmare. It was comfortable and made him feel safe. Until he cracked an eye open, he had no idea that the source of it was Jeremy. They had their arms wrapped around each other loosely and their legs tangled together, the other man’s head tucked beneath his chin as he snored softly. The sight made him smile, though the sound kicked off a headache. He squeezed his eyes shut with a soft groan, holding Jeremy tighter. Maybe if he just ignored the pain, he’d be able to go back to sleep. The sun was only just starting to rise, Diamond City wasn’t far, and Geoff probably wasn’t going to be expecting them for a while. He had time.

Besides, Jeremy was still sound asleep. As far as he knew, it was the first restful sleep either of them had gotten in months. He wasn’t about to do anything to disturb that. So he settled in again with ease, pulling the blankets up over their heads to block out the beams of sunlight shining through the cracks in the plywood.

The Rexford was still quiet in the early hours of the morning, the only residents bothering to be awake at this hour were some of the ghouls getting ready for early morning patrol shifts. They had enough common courtesy to keep quiet, though. As quiet as they could manage in a centuries old building that creaked with each minute movement, at least. The wood was half rotten and the glass had been knocked out of the windows by the bomb and by the weather, that was the case with every building in town, but the residents of Good Neighbor had worked hard to try and keep everything sturdy and functional. It was a good place to be. Some might even say it was more welcoming than Diamond City, particularly a certain radio host.

In addition to the neighborhood watch, another small group of people were awake in those early hours. But they hadn’t even gone to sleep yet, to be fair.

“I hope everything went well at the Den, Trevor seemed a little… I don’t know. Worked up when he came by?” Gavin asked, both Michael and Lindsay nodding in agreement as they lay together on the bed, tangled together and sprawled over each other in various ways. “Picked up a lot of beers for someone who doesn’t usually drink.”

“Maybe they were for Jeremy?” Lindsay pitched, lifting their head from Michael’s chest to look over at the other.

The bartender shrugged, sighing softly. “Hopefully not. Even for someone who does drink on the reg, that was a lot.”

“Would you both please… Shut up? They probably split them,” Michael muttered, running his fingers through Lindsay’s hair to get them to relax and lay back down. “We can ask tomorrow, right now some of us are trying to sleep.” He still tried to maintain some semblance of a sleep schedule, without one he got rather cranky, but his two partners loved to work against him on that front. Despite the two of them being regular humans, a lack of sleep didn’t seem to affect them.

Lindsay giggled, planting a kiss to his cheek before pulling their boyfriends close. “He’s right. We should. Bar’s gonna be busy tonight.” That wasn’t anything unusual, it was busy every night, but reminding Gavin that they had actual work to do usually did the trick with settling him down. Otherwise, he’d be throwing around hypothetical questions all morning long without anyone getting a wink of sleep. Michael had learned how to tune them out years ago, but Lindsay didn’t quite have that luck yet.

As the trio managed to go to sleep, a few floors away it was Jeremy’s turn to wake up. Instead of confusion greeting him, there was a moment of excitement as he thought he was waking up in his husband’s arms. The shitty old beds of the hotel felt exactly like the bunks they’d had to sleep in when they were deployed, the two of them squeezing onto a twin-sized mattress with springs that dug into their sides and creaked with every movement. There was even a fleeting thought, a hint of a memory that came to the surface in the moment of semi-consciousness before he was fully awake.

“Matt?” He asked, voice low and gravelly as he lifted his head only to see that the man who he was wrapped up in wasn’t his husband. It was Trevor. That realization was only somewhat disappointing. Still, he let out a sigh and laid his head back down on the pillows, pulling back from the other a little bit. If Trevor woke up, he didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He didn’t know that the other had already woken up and was more than okay with their sleeping arrangement.

Jeremy stayed there for a while, alternating between looking at Trevor and the hints of sunlight peeking through the old wood that covered the windows. The dust danced around in the beams and made him dizzy. After a few minutes of that he sat up, gently reaching a hand out to touch Trevor’s shoulder and gently shake him awake. “Trev, wake up,” he murmured, smiling fondly as the other whined and stirred. “C’mon, got a busy day ahead of us. Can’t spend it all in bed.” Oh how he wished they could, though.

Trevor put up with the shaking for a few moments before he got fed up, knowing that Jeremy wasn’t going to be relenting and that there was no chance he was going to be able to sleep for even a few more minutes. “Okay! I’m up.” He swatted at the other’s hand, rolling onto his back and trying to adjust to the headache and the brightness of the room all over again. It was a lot more difficult the second time around. He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the headache. “Does this happen every time you drink?” He asked him, peeking up at him through his fingers.

He chuckled softly, shrugging a shoulder. “Kinda? You learn to ignore it after a while. Med-X usually helps some too, if I’m honest.” He had a bit of a headache, but nothing too bad though. “Water too, but… That’s in short supply these days.”

“When we get back to the city, we can stock up at Shen’s. But in the meantime, I’ll take that Med-X.”

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Diamond City was the same as it always was: the market was bustling and full of people, guards patrolled the streets or hung out at their posts, and the mayor looked out at it all from his office. Trevor noticed one very important thing once they were inside the city limits, though. Even with all the guards and people around, he just didn’t feel safe there, and it didn’t feel like home. Inside the Home Plate was a little different. The mayor couldn’t glare holes into the back of his head there and Ian, if he was even still alive, couldn’t get to him either. Out in the open he felt way too exposed.

Jeremy didn’t exactly feel safe there anymore either, constantly on high alert and keeping an ear out for the first sign of trouble. He was less concerned about his own safety, and more about Trevor’s.

With how busy the city was during the middle of the day, Jeremy was extra conscious of making sure Trevor didn’t end up lost in the crowd. He hadn’t even given it a second thought when he’d grabbed the other’s hand, guiding him through the crowd and keeping him close, not noticing what he’d done until they’d reached the detective agency.

“Hey there, boys!” Geoff greeted, clapping his hands together and grinning as the two walked through the door. He glanced at their joined hands and shared a look with Ellie, his grin turning to a knowing smirk before he steeled himself and cleared his throat. “You ready to go check out Kellogg’s place?”

Jeremy quickly took his hand out of Trevor’s, clearing his throat as well and wiping it on his pants. “Uh, yeah. Ready.” He knew that it wasn’t really anything to be embarrassed over, but that didn’t stop a light flush from rising to his cheeks. “I remembered something else, too… In case it’s helpful,” he added, and Geoff’s eyebrows rose as he waited for Jeremy to continue. “His name was-... Is Matt. My husband. His name is Matt.”

Geoff grinned at that, pulling out his notebook. “That is very helpful, Jeremy. It confirms that Kellogg’s our guy. That’s what he said his friend was named when he passed through, right Ellie?”

She nodded, typing something up on her typewriter and nodding. “That’s right, Matt Bragg. And he certainly matches the description you gave.”

“Then we’re on the right track. Let’s get going.”

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As far as Jeremy was concerned, Kellogg’s house was a bust. First, it had been locked up tight and virtually impossible to break into. The lock on the door was more complicated than any one he’d encountered in the wastes before. The only reason they’d gotten in was because of Trevor, and he didn’t want to know where he’d gotten that skill from. Then, anything useful was hidden behind a secret room that had been a real pain to get into, and there turned out to be nothing useful there at all. Some half burned cigars and empty beer bottles, but nothing that would actually tell them where he’d gone.

“San Francisco Sunlights… Kind of a rare brand around these days, they’re pre-war, but…” Geoff trailed off, picking up the cigar box and turning it over in his hands a few times.

“But?” Trevor asked, arching an eyebrow and looking towards Jeremy. The man was leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes on the floor. His frustration was palpable and intense, and Trevor just felt bad for him.

“But unless you’ve got a sniffer dog, there’s not much more I can do for you.” Geoff sighed, passing Jeremy the box. “I’m sorry, Jeremy.”

He took the box, staring at it wordlessly. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he let out a huff as he shoved it away with the rest of his junk. “So that’s it?” He asked, lifting his gaze to meet Geoff’s eyes. “This is the end of the line? After all of that, after what I’ve been through, we’re just… Done?”

“There’s nothing else to be done, kid. You could ask one of the guards if they’d be willing to spare one of their dogs,” Geoff said, pausing and glancing at Trevor for a split second before his eyes were back on Jeremy’s. “But I don’t know if anyone would be willing.”

Jeremy balled up his fists at his side, closing his eyes and breathing hard. “Great. Just… Just great. Thanks for your help, Geoff. I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.”

“Happy to help,” he assured, waving the comment off before turning to leave. He paused next to Trevor, leaning in and whispering, “Don’t let him do anything stupid,” before walking out of the door.

It took Jeremy a few minutes to compose himself, but that didn’t happen before he punched the wall. “It’s not fair!” He shouted, oblivious to the way Trevor had backed away as the drywall dust clouded his vision. “We’ve been through so much! You put up with so much of my shit, we walked so far, and… And for what?” Shaking out his hand, he let out a frustrated huff. The outburst had helped, all of his anger fizzling away all at once into something heavier and harder to deal with. “Let’s just go home. Figure out what to do. Maybe find a dog.”

Trevor nodded, hesitating before stepping forward and offering Jeremy his hand. “Diamond City has a lot of strays,” he told him, giving his hand a squeeze when the other took it. He hated those sudden fits of anger, those moments where Jeremy lost his temper, but he didn’t know how to help other than being there for him. That was starting to get harder, though. “But going home sounds nice.”

They walked out of Kellogg’s house together, walking quickly away from the stands and back towards the market. The crowds had started to clear out, but there weren’t any less guards around. Diamond City took safety seriously, for some of its citizens at least. The rest were left to fend for themselves.

As Jeremy dug through his pockets for the key to the Home Plate, Trevor scanned the market. They’d have to stock up on supplies before they set up again, but who knew when that would be. Without being on the hunt for Jeremy’s husband, they didn’t have much reason to go out. As Trevor looked over the people, he locked eyes with someone through Takahashi’s stand. “Uh, Jeremy? Can you maybe… Find your keys a little bit faster?”

“I’m working on it, Trev, just… Give me a sec, I’ve got a lot of shit in my pockets.”

Trevor swallowed hard, not looking away from the man who was staring right back at him. He couldn’t. “Jeremy,” he said through gritted teeth, nudging him roughly with his elbow to get his attention.

“Trevor, what?” He snapped, whirling around to cut him a glare. But Trevor wasn’t looking at him. He followed the other’s gaze with a deep frown, letting out an, “oh fuck,” when he saw what had attracted his attention. “Shit. Okay, hang on.” He turned back to the door, pulling out his keys right as the man began to take steps towards them.

“‘Ey, Trevor! Jer’my!”

Jeremy rushed to unlock the door once he had his keys in hand, shoving Trevor inside. “You get anywhere within ten feet of his door, and I’ll blow your head off right where you stand!” He shouted, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at him for added effect.

“I just wan’ t’ talk!”

“Fuck you, Ian. You don’t deserve to even look at him, let alone talk to him,” he spat before slamming the door, locking it and shoving some furniture in front of it for good measure. “God, I wish I could set up turrets in here.”

Trevor was already sitting on his bed, pulling off his armor to tuck it away in the trunk at the foot of it. “You told me he was dead,” he stated simply, looking up at Jeremy before he got back to untying his boots. “Why did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie, I just… Didn’t know. I thought he was dead! I had hoped he was dead,” he confessed, sitting down on his own bed to start doing the same. He was quiet for a few moments, biting his lip in thought before he spoke again. “Do you want him to be?” He asked in a murmur.

Trevor paused, frowning. “I really can’t talk about this right now, Jeremy.”

“Right, right. Sorry. But the offer’s still there.” Maybe he should have some reservations about killing someone, but his time in the army had desensitized him to that, even two hundred years after the fact. Plus, in his eyes, it was worth it. It was only fair after what he’d done to Trevor.

“Maybe another time... You got anymore of those yao guai steaks? I’m starving.”

Jeremy chuckled and nodded, shucking off the last of his gear and throwing it into his trunk. “Yeah, lemme cook them up so you don’t get rad poisoning again.”

“It was one time! And you’re the one who didn’t tell me that it was pre-war food!” Trevor wrinkled his nose and grimaced. “That was the worst thing I’d ever eaten, though. I should’ve stopped after the first bite, but I was just so hungry.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not gonna happen again.”

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In the morning as he sat on the edge of his bed, halfway through putting his boots on, Jeremy realized that priorities had shifted. Finding his husband was still very important to him, that hadn’t changed, but keeping Trevor safe had bumped that down to second place. Trevor was his first priority now. It felt like the shift had happened overnight because of how sudden the realization was, though in reality it had slowly been happening over the course of their time together. The latest setback had just been the catalyst.

“Do you have any plans for that loft up there?” Trevor asked, nodding towards the staircase from his own bed. When he’d been laid up from his head injury, Jeremy had worked on furnishing the place and making repairs, but the second floor loft had remained empty. Right then it served as a stopping point on the way up to the third level’s bathroom, but it felt weird empty like that.

The question pulled Jeremy out of his thoughts, and he hummed softly. “No, not really. Maybe just storage? I dunno.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Why?”

“I wanna move some of my radio equipment here. That space is bigger than my trailer, probably. It’d be perfect. But I don’t wanna impose.”

Jeremy shook his head quickly, putting a hand up to stop him. “Trevor, I got this place for us. You can do whatever the hell you want with it, alright? It’s just as much your place as it is mine. I’ll even help you move the stuff.”

“Really?” Trevor asked, his face lighting up. “Thanks, Jer.”

“Of course, Trev. Anything for you.”

He knew that was just a thing that people say when the favor wasn’t a big inconvenience to them, but for some reason Trevor felt like Jeremy genuinely meant it when he said that. It made him smile despite the butterflies in his stomach.

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“Oh, this one’s a good one too! As soon as this song’s done, we have to listen to this one,” Trevor said, pulling a disc out of the filing cabinet and waving it around for Jeremy to see before setting it down on top of it. “Actually, fuck it, I’m putting it on now.”

Moving the equipment from the trailer to the Home Plate hadn’t really taken much time, but packing the discs away into boxes to bring them over too was taking forever. Each time he found a CD that had a track on it that he liked, Trevor had to stop and explain to him exactly why he liked it and all of the nuances of each lyric. As endearing as it was, Jeremy had really been hoping to get this done before sundown.

“Trev-” He’d started to speak, about to ask him to speed things up a little, but a knock on the door interrupted him. Both he and Trevor frowned, looking at each other in confusion, though the latter was frozen in place. He set down the box on the bed, shutting off the music and opening the door a little. “Oh, fuck no. No. Get the fuck out of here,” Jeremy spat, slamming the door shut, but a heavy boot jammed between it and the frame stopped it short.

Ian met his eyes with a wicked grin, and at the foot of the steps stood Mayor McDonough. The sight of Ian alone had made his blood boil, but realizing that the mayor was there with him had it running cold instead.

“Now now, Jeremy. We just want to talk,” the mayor said, his gaze going right through the man to look at Trevor who was peering out from behind him. “I thought I told you that Diamond City didn’t like troublemakers. But it seems like you’ve been causing more incidents than I originally thought.”

Ian shoved the door, making Jeremy stagger back. He used that opportunity to get the door open, letting himself and McDonough into the already cramped trailer. There had barely been enough room for himself and Trevor in there, but the space felt even smaller now. It made Jeremy’s breathing pick up, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Do you remember what I told you when you first showed up in my office, Mr. Dooley? I told you that you’d be escorted out of the city if you caused any more trouble. And what did you do? You went and hurt my favorite guard.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “Such a serious crime cannot go unpunished, Mr. Dooley. And Trevor, I thought you knew better than to make any waves.”

“It’s not his fault,” Jeremy said, balling up his fists as he began to calm down enough to speak. The walls were still closing in around him, but he couldn’t afford to stay silent. Trevor couldn’t, either. He really wished that he’d thought to bring a gun. “Look, McDonough, whatever you’re gonna do, don’t loop him into this.”

“But he’s the whole cause of it. You both are a pox on this city, and if you don’t decide to leave it quietly, I’ll be forced to put my foot down and have you forcibly removed.”

“Aw, c’mon Mayor. I think tha’ we should let Trevor stay,” Ian laughed, and the mayor seemed to be considering it.

Neither of the men were looking at Trevor, they were hardly even thinking about him, he was just a way to taunt and torture Jeremy. But behind them, he could see the radio host moving towards his desk, and he had to work hard to bite back a grin. Though he’d been convinced that Jeremy wasn’t a synth, he knew that keeping a gun around for extra protection was still a smart idea. And what neither Ian nor the mayor knew was that Trevor had become a hell of a shot during his time in the wastelands.

“Nuh uh. Where I go, he goes. Either we both stay, or we both go. And since we’re so much trouble, I think we’ll both be going,” he stated, turning around to pick up the box and start packing away Trevor’s CDs again. It almost seemed like they were going to let him continue, but he huffed when he felt cold metal against his temple.

“Those are Diamond Ci’y property, mate. I suggest you put the box down and go, ‘fore we have t’ do anything rash. And take your pet radroach with you.”

A gunshot rang out then, the foam on the walls muffling the sound to the world outside, but not doing nearly enough to stop it from making everyone’s ears inside ring. McDonough shouted out in surprise and covered his ears, and Jeremy dropped the box to do the same. As he looked down to see where it landed, his eyes widened in surprise. Although he knew that this was going to happen, he still wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

Ian was nothing more than a crumpled heap on the floor, his face completely unrecognizable now. Jeremy could look through it and see the cracked tile beneath his head, and if he had any weaker of a stomach he probably would have thrown up. Already he was pretty close. Blood and brains were splattered along the wall and cabinets, some of it getting onto Jeremy’s clothing, but the majority of it had landed on the mayor, staining his tan suit red.

“I am not a radroach,” Trevor spat, the barrel of his pistol still smoking as he aimed it towards the mayor. “And we aren’t leaving Diamond City.”

McDonough began to beg, but Trevor no longer had his focus on him. Instead, he looked past him to Jeremy, who only gave a small nod of approval and stepped out of the way so he wouldn’t get splattered again. Another shot rang out, and the mayor joined Ian on the floor, the pair of them a mess of blood and limp limbs.

Jeremy stepped over the bodies, gently pulling the gun from Trevor’s hands and setting it down on the desk. “Are you okay?” The other man nodded slowly, though he began to tremble. “Go home. I’ll get the rest of your stuff. Do you have the key?” Trevor nodded again, digging it out of his pocket and passing it to Jeremy.

“We’re so fucked,” he whispered, laughing and running a hand through his hair. “Jeremy, what the fuck did I do?”

“You protected yourself.” He’d done what Jeremy himself had been too much of a coward to do, he was righting a very long series of wrongs. “I’ll take care of this, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Trevor wasn’t so sure he agreed. Although at the same time, he didn’t feel like he’d done anything wrong. In fact, he was kind of happy about it. But the fear of getting caught and ending up like the pair on the floor was more overwhelming than anything else he was feeling, so he just nodded dumbly and walked carefully out of the trailer, trying hard not to step in any of the blood that was now pooling in the cracks of the tile.

Once the door was shut again, Jeremy pocketed the keys and hit play on the CD player, letting Roy Brown play in the background as he packed up the rest of the discs. The cabinets themselves would just have to wait there, he needed to get back to Trevor as soon as possible.

#ragehappy #rpf #treremy #doollins #jeremy/trevor #mavinsay #juggey #gavinsay #mavin #jerematt #fallout au #fallout 4 au #fic #fanfic #my writing #everamazingfe

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eryiss · 4 years ago

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Event: LGBTQA+ Month hosted by @ft-wwtdp

Ship: Gajeed ( Freed Justine x Gajeed Redfox)

Prompts: Traditions, Quiet, Amrbosia, Learning, Game

Verse: Modern AU

Alternate Places To Read: Fanfiction, Archive of our Own. Event master list here.

Here’s my forth group of one shots for the LGBTQA+ month. You can read rest in the master list linked above. I don’t think there’s anything to warn you about in this one. Hope you enjoy.

Day Sixteen – Traditions (Of a Kind)

Gajeel wasn't the most traditional man. He hadn't had a particularly normal life, starting life in a care home with multiple other kids and then being adopted by Metalicana, who also wasn't a traditional man. So often, in his later life, he'd realise that something that had never been important to him was a relatively big part of other people's lives.

One example was Freed's birthday.

He knew it was coming, but didn't think much of it. Birthdays had never been too big of a thing to him; his care home didn't have enough money for anything other than a cake shared between them all, after all. It was only when he ran into Bickslow, who was talking about the things that he intended to buy for Freed, that Gajeel realised that he should probably get the man something. Annoyingly, that happened the day before Freed's birthday, and Gajeel hadn't been paid in weeks. It wasn't a good situation.

What made it worse was Freed had lived in luxury compared to Gajeel, and he could only guess how grand Freed's birthdays had been. But Gajeel, his boyfriend, wouldn't be able get him anything. He had neither the time, nor the money.

All in all, the situation was shit.

But Gajeel wasn't going to just accept it. He loved Freed and wanted to make that know, and just because he couldn't afford to get him anything fancy or luxurious – no doubt like his friends would do – it didn't mean he couldn't do something good for the man he loved. With that in mind, he returned to his apartment as quickly as he could, removed his guitar from the wall, got some empty music sheets from a cupboard and started to strum.

The next day, he had woken up in Freed's bed, arms wrapped around the smaller man in a protective hold. Freed was still sleeping, and Gajeel absently nuzzled the top of his head before leaving the bed. He brewed coffee, and made a simple pastry-based breakfast. Well, he put pastries in the oven for a short while then onto a plate.

When Freed woke up, he seemed to appreciate it.

They ate together in the warmness of Freed's sheets, Gajeel delighted at the feeling of Freed's body gently leaning against him. He rested their heads together and smiled, he loved the moments of calm quiet with his boyfriend. Luckily for him, they came often.

"We should probably think about getting dressed soon," Freed suggested eventually. "Apparently Bickslow and Evergreen are intending to come here quite early."

"I suppose," Gajeel sighed. "Before we do, could I give you my gift. It ain't exactly… I mean you know I've been loosin' shifts because my boss is a dick, so I ain't got much money to spare-"

"I told you that you needn't worry about it," Freed assured him. "It's why I only mentioned it a few days ago. I don't really celebrate my birthday that much anyway. My friends are the ones who insist on doing something."

Gajeel could believe that, if Bickslow's excitement was reflective of them all.

"Well, I wanted to do something at least. Just give me a second."

After speaking, Gajeel stood up and walked to Freed's living room. He picked up his guitar case and removed the instrument from it, quietly checking it was in tune before entering the bedroom again. He couldn't help but smirk a little when he saw Freed eye the instrument warily before putting an enigmatic expression on his features. Freed seemed to be expecting the worst, Gajeel would be happy to prove him wrong.

"I, erm, I wrote it myself," Gajeel said, cheeks reddening as he sat at the end of the bed. "Hope you like it."

Then he began to play. It was a short instrumental piece, made with Freed in mind. It was dark, slow, smooth and rhythmic. He focused on the music, doing his best to instil the feelings he had for his boyfriend into the strumming of the strings.

When he glanced towards Freed, he saw that the man had closed his eyes. Gajeel smiled when he saw a gentle movement of his head in time with his music, it was clear that Freed was enjoying it. The feeling of warmth that flowed through Gajeel was amazing, and he was suddenly glad that he hadn't been able to buy Freed anything. He doubted getting him some trinket and a card would have gotten a reaction like this. This was better.

He played passionately, allowing himself to get as lost in the music as Freed seemed to be. The song soon ended though, and he allowed it to trail off. Freed's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Gajeel with such a soft expression that he felt like he might have melted.

"Wow," Freed said softly. "That was incredible."

"Could've been better," Gajeel mumbled, he'd never been good at getting compliments. "Honestly I only started working on it last night, so it ain't as good as it could've been."

"The fact you're able to make that a day is incredibly impressive," Freed assured him, before speaking slightly hesitantly. "I do have one question, though."

"Yeah?" Gajeel asked, grinning again. He had a feeling he knew what it would be.

"Well, you've taken me to a fair few open mic nights where you've played," Freed's voice was careful, and Gajeel had to stop himself from laughing. "And, compared to this, your… musical style has been," He thought of a word, and Gajeel bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from speaking. "Unique."

"Unique?" Gajeel said, a laugh in his voice. He'd let Freed stew for a little while longer. "What d'ya mean."

"Well, I'm not a musician so I'm not entirely sure what the, erm, technical terminology is," Freed began, and Gajeel was reaching his limit with how much laughter he could hold in. "But when you perform publicly, you're a little more-"

"Shit?" Gajeel completed with a cackle.

"I wouldn't say that," Freed said hurriedly, and Gajeel started to laugh hard.

"I lost a bet with salamander," Gajeel grinned. "At least once a month I need to go out in public, play some out of tune awful crap, do weird scat singing and make an ass out of myself."

"Oh," Freed said, blankly. His cheeks were red.

"Yeah," Gajeel grinned, crawling atop Freed and kissing him. "It's awful fun watching ya try and compliment me once I finished my set."

"Asshole," Freed muttered, leaning up and kissing Gajeel with a grin.

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Day Seventeen – Quiet (Time Together)

It didn't happen often, but sometimes both Freed and Gajeel wouldn't be able to sleep.

There was never a particular reason for it, but sometimes they both wouldn't be able to sleep. They would find themselves lying next to each other, unable to let the needed slumber overtake them. Sometimes they did nothing and hoped sleep would take them, sometimes they would distract themselves with each other's bodies, and other times they would do something a little more random. This was one such time.

"Neither of us are getting to sleep tonight," Gajeel eventually said, glancing at the clock. It was almost four in the morning. "So I've an idea, if you wanna hear it."

"Sure," Freed nodded as he shifted to look at his boyfriend.

"We call in sick tomorrow, or later today I guess, since we won't be able to concentrate if we go in," Gajeel began. "And since we won't have anything to do, we go to the beach," Gajeel saw Freed open his mouth to speak. He stopped him before he could say anything. "But we go right now."

"Its four in the morning, Gajeel," Freed said with a small laugh.

"Yeah it is," Gajeel nodded. "We take the bike out; the roads won't be busy so it should only take half an hour. It'll basically be empty; we could probably watch the sun rise."

"That actually rounds rather nice," Freed admitted.

They were moving a minute later and dressed themselves appropriately for the cold of early morning by the coast. Soon they climbed atop Gajeel's motorcycle and were rushing through the near empty streets of Magnolia, the rush of cold wind shaking away any tiredness that either man was feeling. Unbeknown to Gajeel, Freed was smiling slightly as he clung to him; he had grown to enjoy riding on Gajeel's bike, and something about the earliness of the morning made this experience feel a little different.

Throughout their relationship, many people had pointed out that Gajeel wasn't what they expected in a boyfriend for Freed. They had, sometimes rudely, suggested he should have dated someone more refined. Freed disagreed. Because Gajeel was rather perfect for him.

He was sweet, and artistic, and kind. Perhaps he had a lot of piercings and that might not be the conventional picture of niceness, but it didn't change who Gajeel was. He was a creative, heartfelt man with a charmingly impulsive side that had more than once gotten Freed to do something he wouldn't have considered doing when he was alone. He certainly wouldn't be going to the beach in the morning, he'd be fighting to fall asleep so he wouldn't be yawning at him meeting tomorrow.

Gajeel wasn't the perfect boyfriend for everyone, but he was as close as Freed felt was possible for him.

Once they arrived at the coast, it was still dark. They parked the bike at a nearby clearing, removed their leathers and walked towards the beach side by side. The stars and moon were the only thing illuminating their walk to the sand, and the tranquillity of the situation was perfect.

As they got closer, the sound of the sea could be heard. It was a relatively choppy ocean, with impressive waves crashing down illuminated by the starlight. Freed had always preferred when the ocean was chaotic and crashing than when it was calm; he always thought it gave it more character and grandeur. The sea was perhaps the most formidable thing on the planet, and he enjoyed seeing it in its destructive glory.

They decided to sit by each other in the dry sand, looking out over the ocean without speaking. It seemed to go on for ever, warping and whirling for miles until it reached the skyline. It really was beautiful.

"Thank you," Freed said quietly, and Gajeel looked down at him with a small frown. "For suggesting things like this. I sometimes wonder if I would do anything if you, and my friends I suppose, didn't push me into doing them."

Gajeel looked down at his boyfriend with a small expression of concern. Freed wasn't closed off as a person, but he didn't often get reflective in this way. He had always seemed to focus on the future instead of the past and seeing him thinking about his life in such a way wasn't something that happened often.

"You would have," Gajeel assured him.

"I'm not sure," Freed smiled, a little cynically. "When I was choosing my university, I had three options. I went to the one on the coast because I loved looking out at the ocean. I imagined going there multiple times a week, just watching the waves. But, after my first semester, I could count the times I even saw the sea on one hand," He sighed, a little downtrodden. "And now I work all the time, and it's my main priority, and I genuinely don't think I'd think of anything else if I didn't have you, Laxus, Bix and Ever."

"Course you would," Gajeel laughed a little. "You're only sayin' this because yer tired. And, well, I think everyone in their mid-twenties thinks that way. We all think we're gonna change the world or live in a sit-com or whatever. Nobody does, and that ain't a failure. It's just- just life, I guess."

"I suppose," Freed didn't sound convinced.

"Freed, yer doin' fine. I don't know what you'd be like if you didn't have any of us, but it doesn't matter. Because you've got us here, and we ain't going anywhere," He patted Freed on the back. "You've just had a stressful couple of weeks, that all."

"Perhaps," Freed nodded a little. He seemed to agree this time, at least.

"Y'know, I'm pretty fond of the coast as well," Gajeel continued, voice a little lighter now. "We could come here more often."

"That'd be nice," Freed agreed, looking over the ocean.

"What about this. We pick a random day each month, and on that day we call in sick and come here just like we did today," Gajeel suggested.

"I'd actually quite like that," Freed smiled.

Gajeel was glad to see the smile and wanted to increase it. At the start of their relationship, Freed had been hesitant to smile at times. He was now more generous, and Gajeel loved seeing it. Because of that, he got an idea on how to make it wider.

"How about, for fun, we make a bet. Since we'll be coming here in the morning, we'll both be tired," Gajeel continued, and Freed nodded. "So, first person to yawn loses. Loser gets dunked in the water."

"Really?" Freed laughed, and Gajeel nodded. "Fine, you've a deal."

"Good," Gajeel grinned. He then stood up, tucked his hands under Freed's legs and hoisted him up. Freed looked at him confused. "You yawned when we got off the bike. It counts."

"You wouldn't," Freed warned, but was grinning.

"I wouldn't get my boyfriend wet, so he has to take his clothes off to let them dry?" Gajeel quirked an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like me."

He cackled as he ran towards the ocean, Freed laughing, as the sun rose.

~~~

Day Eighteen – Ambrosia (In a Time of Need)

He should have guessed this would happen, but that didn't make the reality any better.

The day before, on his journey to his dorms from University, Freed had been forced to wait in the rain at the bus stop for nearly an hour. A mixture of poor planning on his part and unfortunate weather had meant he only had his relatively thin coat as protection, and the cold wind and relentless water beating down on him had clearly had an effect on him. The sniffling, sneezing, and coughing was a testament to that.

Freed never got sick, it was a point of pride with him. He had a strong immune system and made sure not to put himself in illness inducing situations when possible. So the fact that he was sick annoyed him, and it also meant he was not at all prepared to look after himself.

Which was unfortunate as, living in university dorms, he was essentially alone.

What was worse was that he had planned to have a date with his boyfriend, which now clearly couldn't happen. Gajeel hadn't complained about the cancellation, and had been sympathetic to what Freed was going through; although he had laughed and called him 'Phlegm Face' after being assured that it was nothing more than a few coughs and a headache. Freed had laughed at that, which made his head spin, which he confessed to Gajeel, who laughed even more. Freed smiled weakly through the teasing, and thanked him when Gajeel said he would come to his dorm when he was finished for the day.

But now he was alone. He had attempted to make himself some breakfast, but the idea of cereal made him gag, anything with sugar would make him vomit, and toast was too sickly with the butter he preferred. He'd settled on a glass of water and a plain cracker. It wasn't a good meal.

He pulled his laptop to his side, opening Netflix and finding a show that wouldn't be too thought provoking to watch. Ideally, he would have spent a day off reading something – he's purchased the first book in a horror series that he had wanted to begin soon – but when he had attempted to read his head had throbbed and the words on the pages melded together into a blurring mess of scribbles. So watching crap television on his laptop was all he was left to do.

The day had been a hazy mess, and he wasn't entirely sure what time it was when there was a soft but firm knocking on his dorm door. He climbed off his bed, a little slower than normal, and opened the door. Gajeel was there, smiling.

"You're dressed?" Gajeel deadpanned.

"You'd prefer me naked?" Freed commented, sniffling.

"Most of the time, yeah," Gajeel chuckled, stepping into Freed's room. "But what I meant was, you're wearing a button up shirt and dress pants, rather than sweats and a t-shirt. Most guys wouldn't wear that normally, let alone when they're sick."

"Most men are weak," Freed commented.

Watching his boyfriend, Freed realised that Gajeel hadn't come in empty handed. He had a plastic bag, and was pulling out small plastic boxes out of it. Freed looked over them with a small frown on his face, not sure what was in them. Gajeel looked over his shoulder, chuckling at the expression on the sick man's face. He was less in control of his features when ill, and was clearly trying to find out what filled the boxes without asking.

"Change into your sweats," Gajeel demanded. "And get in bed, shit-for-brains."

"Traditionally, you're meant to be kind when your boyfriend is sick," Freed mumbled, reaching for his nightwear as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"I brought you soup, didn't I?," Gajeel grinned.

Freed rolled his eyes, the room only shaking slightly as he did so. He smiled a little as he changed into his sleeping attire, much preferring Gajeel maintaining his teasing nature rather than becoming an annoyingly nice version of himself. Part of why Freed disliked being sick – other than the general feeling of crappiness – was the unneeded sympathy it garnered. He didn't somehow become a fragile glass version of himself, and didn't need people to treat him thusly. And if that meant Gajeel called him 'shit-for-brains' then he was fine with that.

After changing and getting into bed, which was a lot more comfortable than he expected, he watched his boyfriend. The man had boiled the kettle Freed kept in his room, and was slowly adding hot water into the plastic box. The smell of chicken stock and vegetable filled the stuffy room.

"Did you bring me chicken soup?" Freed asked, his mind catching up to him. "I wasn't aware people actually did that."

"Most people don't," Gajeel shrugged, stirring the soup as he slowly walked over to Freed. "Most people ain't got the best recipe for chicken soup, though."

"The best recipe? That's quite a claim," Freed chuckled weakly.

He shifted to the side so that Gajeel could climb in beside him. The other man carefully handed him the box of soup, and Freed felt his stomach growl for the first time that day. He slowly brought a spoonful of the soup to his lips, and let out a small hum in appreciation. Although he was biased, as all he had eaten in the day was a cracker and it had just turned seven in the evening – damn, it was later than he thought – but it genuinely did taste incredible.

"Good right?" Gajeel grinned, wrapping an arm around Freed's shoulders. "Dad taught me how to make it. Called it food of the gods."

"Ambrosia," Freed mused aloud, and Gajeel looked down at him with a frown. "It's what the Greeks used to call the food of the gods. Some people claimed that it was responsible for a long life, or even immortality," Freed rested his head against Gajeel's shoulder. "I also think it's a type of custard. I might be wrong about that, though."

"Even when you're sick, you can't help but be a smartass," Gajeel chuckled with a grin.

"I thought you enjoyed my little bits of trivia," Freed smiled, bringing another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

"I guess I do," Gajeel agreed, pulling Freed closer. The warmth radiating off his body was comforting the sick man, and he was glad for it. "I mainly like that your face relaxes when you're talking about the stuff that interests you. Ya always looks kinda wistful, it's cute."

"You think I'm cute now?" Freed laughed, sniffling and trying to hold back a cough.

"Cute as hell," Gajeel grinned, leaning over and pressing his lips against Freed's forehead.

"Thank you for coming," Freed mumbled, smiling softly as he cuddled closer to his boyfriend.

"I'm yer boyfriend, idiot. Course I'm here," Gajeel assured him.

They spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, talking about nothing in particular. Once the food was finished, they cuddled down, Freed wrapped tightly in Gajeel's grasp, with a tired smile. Even though he didn't enjoy being looked after, he could make an exception for Gajeel.

~~~

Day Nineteen – Learning (By The Roadside)

Being in a relationship, you're constantly learning about the other person. This was something that Freed had experienced with Gajeel multiple times. He had learned large things, like how he grew up in a care home and was adopted as a teenager. He learned small things, like he had originally shaved his eyebrows for a bet and liked the look. And he had learned things that were only relevant to him, such as how he needed keep far away from Gajeel and his alarm clock as the other man woke up.

Once, he had been between them for some reason, and Gajeel had absentmindedly slammed his fist out to turn it off, only to land a swift blow in Freed's groin. The asshole had laughed over an apology, and Freed had let out a series of cusses.

Today was a day they would both learn something knew about the other. Gajeel would learn that Freed didn't know anything about mechanics, and Freed would learn that Gajeel enjoyed gloating.

It had happened in some country road, where an unavoidable pothole had apparently burst one of the front tires of Freed's car, and he had been forced to stop where he was. The tire was beyond repair, with a large rip that nothing could seal, letting air out. He looked at the deflated rubber with a sigh, clicking his tongue absently as he decided what to do. Because, despite being a relatively practical man, he had never known how to change a tire. He had always lived in cities where potholes weren't an issue, and he didn't drive often, so the issue had never really arisen.

He had either two options. Either call his insurance and ask for help, which would be humiliating for such a prideful man, or call his boyfriend, who happened to be a mechanic.

Gajeel and him had only been dating for a few months, and they were still in what was often referred to as the honeymoon part of the relationship. Freed wasn't entirely sure if he had the right to call him in the middle of the day and ask him to leave his job to help him. But, the idea of being confronted with a tow-truck driver who would almost definitely complain about entitled youth was off-putting, so he had hoped his boyfriend would be amenable and called him.

It took Gajeel about forty minutes to find Freed's car, the revving of the mans motorbike alerting Freed to his presence. Freed had found the spare tire by that time, and had attempted to remove the ruined one without success.

"Hey handsome," Gajeel greeted with a grin, voice cheery. "Heard there was a damsel in distress."

"Call me a damsel again and I'll punch you in the face," Freed said, his tone equally cheerful. His was sarcastic, though.

"I can go if ya want," Gajeel taunted, though climbed off his bike and walked towards Freed's car. He hissed at the tire. "Did you slash the thing? It's fucking wrecked."

"Apparently country people don't fix their roads," Freed muttered, nodding to the pothole. Gajeel winced a little.

"Well, it shouldn't take long to change it," He grinned, pulling out the tools he needed from a small box attached to the back of his bike.

Freed watched the man as he leant down, holding a metal tool of some kind which he assumed would he used to undo the bolts that were keeping the tire in place; something Freed had attempted with a slightly too large wrench he happened to have in the back seat. He made sure to pay attention to what Gajeel was doing, so he could change a tire himself if the situation ever called for it.

On the final bolt, Gajeel attempted to remove it how he had before, but it wouldn't move. He readjusted his position slightly, and Freed saw his muscles bulging slightly more. With the added strength, the bolt began to turn.

"Why's that one tighter, Freed?" Gajeel asked, and the smile was evident in his tone. He knew.

"I had attempted to loosen it myself before you got here," Freed said, reddening slightly.

"You realised where you went wrong then?" Gajeel was grinning now. "If you wanna untighten it, you go anticlockwise. Sorta common knowledge really. Shocked you didn't figure it out."

"Shut up," Freed muttered, looking away.

"Anything else I should know about?" Gajeel grinned, taunting him further. "You didn't try and turn the AC on by setting fire to the engine? Open the trunk by welding it shut?"

"You're very funny," Freed deadpanned. Apparently Gajeel was more perceptive that Freed gave him credit for, as the questioning look he gave him showed that he knew Freed wasn't mentioning something. "I got annoyed and kicked it, if you must know."

Gajeel cackled out a laugh then, and Freed gave him an unimpressed look that only worsened the larger mans laughter. He stood up, wrapped his arms around Freed's waist and pulled him closer. The laughter turned into a quiet mixture of giggling and chuckling as he rested their foreheads together, and Freed seemed to have been calmed by the gesture, leaning in and pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss.

"It's not that funny, you know," Freed commented, and Gajeel smirked.

"It ain't," He agreed. "But you're always so fuckin'… capable, always have an answer and a solution; which I really fucking like about ya. I don't want some needy guy. But, it's kinda nice to know you have a flaw. I used to be, I don't know, kinda intimidated by ya. And the fact your flaw is what I do for a living… it's kinda funny."

Freed shook his head, but smiled. He hadn't known that he had been intimidating to Gajeel – it certainly hadn't been something he wanted to do – but he was glad that the feeling had lessened. Even at the death of his dignity.

"Well, I'm glad you're here and can help me," Freed admitted. "It's nice to know that you'd come if I needed you."

"Always," Gajeel promised.

They shared a short kiss again, and then Gajeel began to change the tire again. It didn't take long, and soon the new tire had been applied. Freed walked towards his car, and Gajeel noticed a small limp in his walk. He smirked, realising what had caused it.

"You hurt your foot when you kicked the car, didn't ya?" He asked, grinning.

"Shut up," Freed muttered, and Gajeel fell into loud and impassioned laughter. Despite himself, Freed joined in.

~~~

Day Twenty – Games (In the Snow)

Both Freed and Gajeel were competitive men, when the mood struck them. Games played together would often get heated as they tried to better the other, and it had become an established rule between their friends not to interrupt them when they were in the middle of playing something. The two men would focus only on winning, and it was best to leave them to their own devices when that was happening.

Anything could bring out their competitive side. Video games and board games were the worst, expect for the one time when they went mini golfing together. They still weren't allowed back.

They made sure never to let their competitive natures interfere with their relationship, though. If things started to get actually heated and arguments seemed as though they would form – rather than the playful teasing that was shared between them both – then they both knew that it was time to either take a break from the game, or end it all together. They both kept true to that rule, and their competitions had never gotten hurtful because of it. which was almost miraculous, given how often they found themselves competing.

Case in point, a competition had formed when they were walking home from work.

It had been snowing throughout the day, heavily so, and there was about three inches of it resting on the ground. The two men made their usual cut through the park to get to their shared apartment. Gajeel had been forced to stop to retie his shoelace, and saw an opportunity. When on his knee, he had packed a handful of snow into a ball and prepared himself.

The second he was standing, he threw the snowball directly at his boyfriend. It hit his face, spreading across his cheeks and nose and clinging to his skin. Freed seemed dumbstruck for a moment, and Gajeel grinned watching him trying to process what had just happened to him.

"You little bastard," Freed eventually said, and Gajeel grinned.

And thus, a new game had begun.

Freed had formed a snowball of his own within a moment, and threw it back at Gajeel's retreating figure, hitting the back of his head. Gajeel simply laughed, got to his knees to make another snowball, and threw it towards his boyfriend.

Neither man could be sure of how long the snowball fight had lasted. It had been intense, with the previously untouched snow being lifted, pressed into a ball and thrown at each other with vicious accuracy and strength. Both men were laughing throughout the entire situation though, quipping at each other and taunting the other to admit defeat at even the slightest sign of them faltering. After their respective long days at work, it had been exactly what they both needed.

When the fight ended, they were both covered in the snow, their clothes dripping wet from the melting water. They were both starting to get tired, but neither wanted to give up. That was when Gajeel had an idea.

He picked up a large clump of snow, larger than any snowball should be, and grinned. There was a large amount of distance between Gajeel and Freed, and Gajeel needed to be right next to his boyfriend to make his plan work. He ran towards him, using trees as cover when possible, and sometimes taking an oncoming snowball head on. He was grinning, knowing that he would soon have his revenge if this worked.

Freed didn't know what Gajeel was planning until it was too late. He had been pushed back against the wall of a building, and now Gajeel had essentially trapped him. With one arm blocking Freed's escape, Gajeel pushed their bodies together with a grin. Now that Freed was fully trapped, he could have a little fun.

"Now, what can I do with this?" He mused cockily, hefting the mass of snow in his hand.

"I could easily get out of this, you know," Freed rebutted, ignoring the vague threat.

"Nah, you couldn't," Gajeel dismissed. Freed probably could, but wouldn't. "See, there's a lot of choices, right? I mean, think of all the things I could do," He looked at the clump of snow. "I could shove it in your face. Down the back of your shirt. In yer boxers if I wanted to be mean."

"And you call me a sadist," Freed muttered. Gajeel was enjoying this too much.

"I might do all three," Gajeel continued, revelling in his victory. "Unless of course you wanna give up, and throw yourself on my mercy. Then I'd have ta be kind and let you go, right?"

Freed grunted, and looked around. Neither option was appealing, and he knew there was a way out of the situation somehow. But Gajeel had backed him into a corner, was pushing him against the wall, and had seemingly thought this through. Freed was proud of his strength, but in the awkward position he couldn't use it at all. He really was trapped, with Gajeel's options seemingly the only ones available for him.

One the one hand, the idea of giving up contrasted with his very soul. On the other, the cold numbness was already taking an effect, and Gajeel's threats would make it so much worse. With a bitter sigh, he spoke.

"You win."

"What was that?" Gajeel grinned. "Didn't quite hear ya. Maybe you should say it louder."

"I said you win," Freed snapped, louder this time.

"Maybe drop the attitude," Gajeel cackled at the glare he received. "Why don't you show me some respect. Say: I, Freed Justine, give up and admit my boyfriend Gajeel is the better man by far. And I'm sorry that I even thought about challenging him. Once you do that, I know yer serious."

If it weren't for the cold water dripping down his back, he wouldn't have done anything.

"I, Freed Justine," Freed spoke through gritted teeth. "Give up and admit my boyfriend Gajeel is the better man by far," He was glaring into his boyfriend's gaze poisonously, who just grinned. "And I'm sorry that I even thought about challenging him."

"That weren't so hard, was it?" Gajeel grinned.

Before Freed could say anything, Gajeel dropped the snow to the ground and lifted Freed up over his shoulder. He cackled as he heard Freed splutter, looking towards his boyfriend with an aghast expression on his face. Gajeel grinned wider as he started to walk towards their apartment, as if he wasn't holding his boyfriend as he did so.

"What?" Gajeel grinned at Freed. "I need a prize, right?"

#ftlgbtpride2020 #gajeed #freed justine #Gajeel Redfox #freed x Gajeel #fanfic #fairy tail #writing #one shot #event

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garethandjude · 6 years ago

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Day +27

School was once again a highlight. The stone age theme continues and today Sam made 2 cave paintings of animals from the stone age. Sam's teacher, Liz, has laminated them and they are now decorating the walls of our cave. A few Skype calls home and to North Wales also helped lift Sam's spirits on what was otherwise a quiet day with a lot of sleeping.

Sam has once again spiked a temperature and so unfortunately we're back on the antibiotics but hopefully it was a one off. He's also due platelets and red cells. Given his history with platelets and it's now the night shift the platelets are likely to be tomorrow morning. The reds should be transfused tonight.

The sores under Sam's armpits and on his fingers seem to be improving with the new creams and the dermatologist who saw him today was happy and will see him again later this week. Sam’s tummy doesn't seem to be hurting him anymore too, so hopefully we've seen the back of whatever was causing that, although he continues to have a few nauseous episodes. The Dr's are also trying to introduce some oral meds. When they appeared this morning, Sam shrewdly fell asleep. We did manage to coax him to take 1 of the 2 when he woke up but I can't see him taking any tonight if he needs to be woken up for them!

Being Tuesday, it’s 5 weeks to Christmas and a consultant day. Sam's white cell count is still not recovering even with the stimulating factor (GCSF). Our managed expectations are that the Whites sometimes take a bit longer than normal and may appear in the coming days.They can and may increase the dose of GCSF too. The consultants are also trying to book a contingency theatre slot for next Tuesday to conduct a bone marrow aspirate. This will be used to determine the % of host v graft in the bone marrow using the DNA records they have of Sam and Rhys. They will also check the bone marrow for levels of parvovirus too. None of this is routine. The next routine general anesthetic was meant to be when his wigglies are removed. Hopefully the aspirate will not be needed, but the knowledge that this is being considered and that the GCSF hasn't worked it's magic to date, only serves to heighten our anxiety and trigger a 101 questions and thoughts on why?

In parallel and on a more positive note, the consultants are also discussing what needs to happen to get Sam home in 2 to 3 weeks time. The biggest challenge is feeding and taking all his medication orally. Sam has no interest in either. NG tubes and PEG tubes are options. A transfer to Watford on TPN may be a possibility too, to be weened onto Solids there. A few weeks ago Sam was anti NG and PEG. We hoped his refusal to have either may coerce him into taking everything orally, but Today he told me he would have a PEG. A theatre slot is being booked for 2 weeks time just in case. Jude and I don't want to put him through more surgery and hope the PEG can be avoided but the reality is that for the next few months, Sam will have 25 or more doses of medicine to take a day, at all hours of the day, some of which are vile tasting. Without his cooperation, it is sure to be massive conflict area. A PEG would allow us to feed him medicine and nutrition without having to wake him up or taste anything. At 7 years old it will be Sam that will ultimately have the biggest say on what route we take.

20.11.18

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years ago

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Love Yourself (Chapter 17)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 6.8k story words: 132.6k (so far) chapter: 17/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: @auroraphilealis is a truly wonderful person and she continues to push me to be better and i love her for that. thanks, as always, for being a great beta and an even greater friend <3

The loud blaring of Dan’s phone alarm pulled him harshly from his sleep.

Jesus, he thought as he blindly fumbled around for his phone, the volume was never up that high.

With closed eyes, Dan ran his hands over the area around his body, under his pillow, above his head, feeling around for his phone in all of the usual places. The obnoxiously loud alarm just kept ringing though, he couldn’t find his fucking phone.

After what seemed like a bloody eternity, Dan’s hand landed on his phone. He cracked his eyes open just enough to hit the snooze button on the alarm, but was jolted further awake when he realized that he wasn’t in his bedroom — or even in his lounge for that matter.

Dan’s eyes flew all the way open so he could take in his surroundings. In his sleepy haze, it took him a moment to process that the colorful room he was in belonged to Phil.

That’s right.

Dan had fallen asleep while they were watching tv last night — on top of Phil, if Dan was remembering correctly. Even though Phil’s lap was rather bony, Phil was a wonderful pillow — better than any pillow Dan had ever slept on, anyway, as technology had yet to invent a pillow that could play with Dan’s hair. Phil must have rearranged them and decided to let Dan sleep on the sofa, rather than waking him up so he could go home. It was unfair of Dan to want Phil to sleep sitting up on the sofa, but he really did wish that he’d woken up with his head still in Phil’s lap and Phil’s hand still in his hair.

Unplugging his phone from the charger that had magically appeared sometime during the night, Dan looked back at the screen and saw that he had several unread messages from Louise.

Louise <3 [8:03AM]: Good morning :) I’m coming over early to pick you up for our meeting because I want to finalize your travel details for Germany.

Louise <3 [8:07AM]: I’m going to stop for coffee on my way there (perhaps at B&G hmmm). Do you want one?

Louise <3 [8:28AM]: You’re not answering, so I’m assuming you’re still asleep and that’s an automatic yes.

Dan had only just finished reading the messages when another text came through.

Louise <3 [8:32AM]: Your loverboy isn’t working :( Be there in 15. Get your ass out of bed.

Fuck, he really needed to beat Louise back to his flat, otherwise he was bound to be bombarded with questions about why he was rolling in at nearly nine in the morning, still in yesterday’s clothing.

The only merciful thing was that Dan knew for certain that Phil wasn’t working because he was asleep in the other room. He couldn’t believe that Louise had taken his silence as permission to go to B&G in hopes of meeting Phil.

Well, actually, he could believe it. It had been taking constant, persistent nagging on his part to stop Louise from stopping by thus far, he really shouldn’t be surprised. He would have to have words with her about it, though. A random, unexpected drop-by was not how he wanted Louise and Phil to meet.

For now, though, Dan opted to ignore her messages — it was better to have her think he was still asleep than admit that he wasn’t at home.

As quickly as he could make his sleepy body move, Dan tapped over to the Uber app, adjusted his location slightly, and —

The wait was only six minutes for a car, thank fuck.

Without hesitating, Dan threw the blanket off him. Distantly, it registered that he definitely had not fallen asleep with a blanket on, meaning that it had magically appeared sometime during the night, just like the phone charger. It didn’t surprise Dan to learn that Phil was an amazing host, given how truly amazing that boy was at everything.

Shaking the thought from his head, Dan climbed off the sofa. Frantically, he looked around himself, trying to figure out what he needed to do before he could leave.

Shoes. He needed shoes. Those were by the door? Maybe? And his coat. That must be by the door, too.

And —

Phil.

Fuck. Dan couldn’t have Phil thinking that he’d snuck out. But there wasn’t time to wake him, and besides, Dan didn’t want to disrupt Phil’s sleep.

A note would have to do.

Dan stumbled to the front door as quickly as he could manage. Clumsily, he tried to slip his shoes on and dig his ever-present lyric notebook and pen out of his coat pocket. He thumbed through the book, looking for a blank page, only to realize that it was getting full.

There wasn’t time to search for an empty sheet, so Dan flipped back to the beginning, ripping out an early page that had song lyrics scribbled on it from the first draft of a song he’d already released.

The page was nearly covered, both on the front and the back, but there was an empty space on the back of the page. That would have to do. Cramming his handwriting smaller than normal, Dan scribbled a quick note to Phil that would hopefully do an adequate job of explaining his disappearance.

I had an early meeting and had to rush out because Louise is apparently on her way to my flat. Thanks for letting me crash on your sofa and the blanket and charging my phone. Coffee tomorrow?

♥ Dan

A notification popped up on Dan’s phone, warning Dan his Uber was arriving in two minutes. He had just enough time to set the note out for Phil and head outside before the car would arrive.

Dan rushed back to the lounge and sat the note on his abandoned pillow, before hurrying back to the front door. He grabbed his coat and ran out the door, pausing briefly to make sure the automatic knob lock was set before he pulled the door shut behind him.

Not wanting to make his Uber wait — or, more importantly, waste any precious time — Dan opted for the stairs instead of the slow lift, and skipped putting his coat on.

He made it to the curb seconds before the car pulled up. Perfect timing.

Maybe he had a shot at beating Louise to his flat after all.

As the car made its way to Dan’s flat, he anxiously checked his phone to see if Louise had texted him again. Surely, surely, she would text him if she got to his flat and realized he wasn’t home.

Other than the Your Uber Has Arrived message, there were no notifications on Dan’s phone — no texts, no snapchats, nothing. Great.

The ride felt like it took years, even though Dan knew it couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes, tops. When the car finally pulled up in front of Dan’s building, there was still no word from Louise — hopefully that was a good sign.

However, Dan knew he’d been found out when his lift doors opened to reveal Louise standing with folded arms in his foyer.

“Daniel James Howell!” she scolded with a smile pulling at her lips and her eyes raking up and down his body as she appraised his appearance — Dan knew he probably looked a right mess. He was sure his clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them, and his hair was probably a wreck.

Dan reached up, trying to surreptitiously flatten it into submission. Clearly, that was the wrong move though, because it just seemed to further draw Louise’s attention to the disarray.

“Did you stay out all night?” she asked, sounding scandalized, but smiling nonetheless.

“Er… y-yes…” Dan stuttered, averting his eyes to the plant in the corner.

“Oh my god!” Louise exclaimed, clapping excitedly. Nervously, Dan shifted his eyes back to her and saw that her smile had twisted into a smirk. “Did you sleep with Phil?”

“No!” Dan denied quickly, his eye bugging out in alarm. “I told you — that’s not — I’m not — not yet!”

“Oh.” Her face fell, exuding disappointment. “I thought you weren’t going sleep with anyone before Phil.” Louise folded her arms again, but this time she looked stiffer, more genuinely annoyed. “Who was it then?”

Dan shook his head vigorously, embarrassed that Louise could even think that of him. The mere thought of sleeping with someone besides Phil made his stomach twist into an uncomfortable tight ball.

“It was Phil,” he rushed to reassure her. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he tried to figure out how to summarize last night. Dan could feel his cheeks heating up and he willed his body to calm down. He was feeling self-conscious enough without his stupid cheeks giving him away. “We just didn’t, like, fuck.”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up. “Forget travel planning, you’re giving me all the details while you get ready.”

Leading the way, Louise ushered Dan into his bedroom. Dan followed reluctantly — he knew that there was no way out of the interrogation he was about to endure.

He didn’t want to talk about Phil, he didn’t want to walk through the entire night with Louise. He was still reveling in the softness of it all, and he didn’t want to spoil it by analyzing every moment.

In the past, he’d never minded — had enjoyed, even — gossiping with Louise about his relationships. Now, though, he felt more exposed than he ever had when talking about a partner.

But then again, he’d never felt this way about anyone before.

By the time Dan got to his bedroom, Louise was already on his still-made bed, leaning against the headboard with her feet extended in front of her.

“Spill,” she ordered before he had the chance to say anything.

“We didn’t fuck,” Dan repeated, hovering at the end of the bed and nervously wringing his hands, shyly waiting for the impending barrage of questions.

“You said that already. What did you do?” Louise clapped once and stared at him imploringly.

“I fell asleep on the sofa while we were watching tv…Dan trailed off. When Louise raised her eyebrows skeptically, Dan continued. “It was innocent. Nothing happened.”

“Not even a kiss?” If anything, Louise sounded more suspicious now.

Dan should have known he wouldn’t get off that easily.

A high-pitched squeak of protest slipped out of Dan’s lips before he could stop it. He slapped his hands over his mouth, shaking his head again.

Well, that wasn’t really true, was it? Dan had kissed Phil on the cheek when he’d arrived. And then later — later, Phil had kissed Dan on the forehead.

Just thinking about it brought a deep flush to Dan’s cheeks. On instinct, Dan buried his face in his palms, hiding from Louise.

“Oh my gosh, you liar! You totally did!”

“Not on the lips,” Dan mumbled into his hands in defence.

“What what that, Daniel?” Louise prodded.

Reluctantly, Dan pulled his hands apart enough that he could peek out at Louise and speak without being too muffled. “I said not on the lips.”

Louise gasped, a wide smile on her face. “And where did you kiss, then?”

“Nope, nope.” Dan shut her down, mortified enough without having to explain it in any more detail. “That’s all you’re getting.” Dan defiantly turned around and walked into his closet, leaving the door open so he could still hear Louise. They needed to leave in forty-five minutes if they were going to make it to their meeting on time, meaning Dan had to get ready.

He definitely wasn’t planning to spend as long picking out an outfit as possible so that he could hide in his closet. Nope, of course not.

Dan pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into the laundry hamper.

“Cuddling?” Louise asked hopefully, speaking a little louder now that Dan was out of sight.

He riffled through his clothes, looking for something that looked posh enough for a meeting with the studio executives, but was comfortable enough that he wouldn’t die if he ended up putting in a few hours at the studio afterwards. “Wh-what about cuddling?” Dan stammered after a moment, playing stupid in a fruitless attempt to evade the topic.

“Was there cuddling?” Louise clarified cheekily, clearly seeing right through Dan’s diversion tactics. “I heard you two were very cuddly Friday night.” She sounded knowing — too knowing.

Dan was eternally grateful that Louise hadn’t followed him into the closet, because he was certain his rosy cheeks would have given away just how cuddly he’d been with Phil recently.

But wait.

How the fuck did Louise know that him and Phil had been cuddly Friday night?

Fucking hell, if Adaline fucking...

“Are you and Adaline talking about me behind my back?” he screeched, outraged and embarrassed, dropping the black shirt he’d been debating wearing.

“Of course,” Louise confirmed dismissively. “Your life is interesting and you’re not being very forthcoming with the details.”

Jesus christ, this was what he got for having a best friend that he’d known his whole life. He ended up with a best friend and a sister who got along as well as siblings.

“Now talk,” Louise demanded.

With a huff, Dan bent over and scooped the shirt off the floor, shrugging it on.

“Yes, there was cuddling,” Dan relented with a sigh, buttoning up his shirt as he walked out of the closet.

Louise let out a happy squeal, cupping her cheeks in her hands and smiling widely.

“Are you happy now?” Dan pleaded, wanting the humiliation to end already.

“No!” Louise reprimanded indignantly, a stark contrast to the smile on her face. “I want more details than that, and you know it!”

Dan shook his head in exasperation as he crossed the room to his dresser.

“Fine,” Dan grumbled, scooping out a dollop of pomade and shaping his hair into an acceptable mess. Not for the first time while talking about Phil, Dan felt like a small school child with their first crush. “I went over yesterday to watch his favorite show with him, but Addie and I had basically pulled an all-nighter the night before so I was exhausted.” Dan’s eyes shyly flickered to Louise in the mirror, and he could see that she had shifted to sit up straight, leaning forward eagerly. “At some point, I laid down with, um, my head in his lap, and he was playing with my hair and then, I don’t know. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Awww,” Louise cooed. “That’s so cute that he figured out that you like your hair played with.”

“I, um, might have encouraged him,” Dan confessed sheepishly, keeping his back firmly to Louise.

“Oh my gosh, that’s even cuter,” she gushed. “It’s sounds like you’re making some moves.”

If he felt like a school child before, he felt like a rather pathetic preteen now — desperate to explore physical affection but terrified to try too much.

“I mean, yes and no.” Dan shrugged, turning around to face Louise. “As nice as the flirting and the cuddling and the cheek kissing are, I don’t have plans of letting it go further anytime soon.”

Louise eyed him for a moment, looking contemplative. “Come sit, love.” She leaned back into the headboard, and patted the space on the bed next to her.

Obediently, Dan crossed the room and crawled up the bed, leaning against Louise. “What?”

“I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to think I’m judging you or take it in a bad way. I just want to understand.”

“Okay…” Dan said tentatively. He took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever Louise was about to ask.

“You said you wanted to take things slowly with Phil — which I totally support. But I’m having trouble understanding how the cuddling and everything fits in with that. Because it sounds like you’re dating, just without, you know, calling it that.”

Dan sighed, running an agitated hand through his hair. Truth be told, he barely understood his feelings himself, so he had no idea how to go about explaining them to Louise. Phil was different, everything about Phil felt different. And maybe… Dan just wasn’t sure if he was ready right this second for what was bound to be an intense relationship.

“I don’t know how to describe it, really. It just feels… different somehow? Sex was such a big part of my relationship with Izzy, and I want things with Phil to have a chance to develop in other ways first.”

Louise nodded, looking contemplative. “You know, you could still properly date him — maybe even kiss him—” Louise flashed him a teasing smirk, “ —without having sex with him.”

Dan let out a bark of laughter. “Right,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “When have you ever known me to be good at restraining myself from having sex with a partner? If I kiss him, then I’m definitely going to fuck him.”

“Fair enough,” Louise chuckled. “But what do you have against calling what you’re doing dating?”

“It’s dumb,” Dan mumbled, ducking his head down and fiddling with the last button on his shirt, pushing it in and out and in and out.

Louise wrapped an arm around Dan’s shoulder, pulling him into her embrace. “I’m sure it’s not dumb. If you feel it, it’s valid.”

Dan let his hands be jostled from his shirt and allowed his head to fall onto Louise. The soft, squishiness of Louise’s chest was comforting, but Dan could help but compare it to the firmer pillow of Phil’s lap.

“It was bad enough when I realized that Isabella was using me for fame and money, you know? Like, I realized that our whole relationship was based on something totally different than I thought it was. But then when I found out she was cheating on me — for god knows how long — that fucking crushed me. I’m not ready to be that vulnerable again.”

Louise hummed softly, in the way she always did when she was showing interest but didn’t want to interrupt. Dan fell silent for a moment as he tried to sift through his thoughts.

“Right now,” Dan continued when he’d figured out how to say it, “In this weird limbo with Phil, it’s okay if I’m a little emotionally unavailable or don’t do any of the boyfriendy stuff right because we aren’t actually anything. Like, it’s okay if I’m a little selfish or fuck up. I don’t have to feel guilty for being a shitty boyfriend. It’s just… safer, I guess.”

Louise nodded, her chin bumping into the top of Dan’s head. “And how does Phil feel about being in limbo?”

“He’s being so good, Lou,” Dan gushed. “Last night, he mentioned a few times that I was in charge, that whatever I wanted was okay.”

“And he knows what you want?” Louise brought a hand up to Dan’s head, gently twirling a single lock around her finger, careful not to mess it up too badly.

“I think so. We talked about, like, twitter and stuff.” With a sigh, Dan turned his face more fully into Louise. Hidden in Louise’s arms, he felt more comfortable being open about his night with Phil. “And us. We, like, properly acknowledged that we liked each other.”

“And how’d that go?” Louise asked quietly.

“I said that I needed time before I could give him more than what I am right now, and he said to take all the time I need.”

Louise hummed quietly, thinking for a moment before speaking. “Sounds like a good egg.”

“The best egg,” Dan corrected, pushing off of Louise’s chest and sitting up. He swung his legs off the bed and offered his hand to her. “But I’ve now had enough serious discussion about my love life for the next year, so let’s go.”

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

Bright sun shined in through the window, forcing Phil out of his sleep and into consciousness. With closed eyes, Phil took slow account of the world, trying to figure out what time it was and what he had on his schedule today. Oddly, he registered that he was wearing a shirt — something he never wore to bed. On the rare nights where it was too cold to sleep bare-chested, Phil opted to wear a hoodie, not a shirt.

So why had he —

Dan.

Phil had chosen to wear a shirt to bed last night because Dan was in his flat, and Phil didn’t want to make him uncomfortable if they ran into each other in the middle of the night.

Straining his ears, Phil tried to listen for noises — anything that would indicate that Dan might be up and moving about — but the flat was completely silent.

He must still be asleep, then.

Even though Dan was in a different room and probably asleep, there was still something wonderful about waking up under the same roof as Dan. Phil didn’t have any idea what time it was, but he hoped it was late enough that he could wake Dan up without feeling too bad about it.

Phil pushed himself into a seated position and reached for his phone, which he’d left charging on his nightstand, like always. Surprisingly, it was only quarter past nine. When left to his own devices, Phil normally slept much later than that — and he knew Dan did too.

Killing a little bit of time before waking Dan, Phil scrolled through his notifications, not replying to any, and checked his email. Nothing looked urgent enough to warrant a response right now, so Phil happily disregarded them all. After checking his calendar, Phil realized that he was completely free until his meeting at the BCC at three. Provided Dan didn’t have anything pressing to do, Phil hoped that they could spend some of today together.

Pancakes and coffee — that should entice Dan into staying for a while.

With much less difficulty and self discipline than it usually took, Phil pushed himself out of bed. Fleetingly, Phil wondered how much harder it would be to get out of bed if Dan was laying next to him, and not on his sofa.

Well fuck, that wasn’t the right thought to be having first thing in the morning.

Phil took a few calming breath, chasing away the implications of those thoughts.

When Phil felt like he had control over his mind — and his body — he tugged on a pair of socks and padded out into the hallway. Just as he’d suspected earlier, it was completely quiet in the flat. Phil headed towards the bathroom, stopping by the lounge to peek in at Dan first. Trying his best to stay quiet, Phil snuck his head around the lounge door and —

There was no Dan.

“Dan?” Phil called out, surprised and a little confused

No answer.

“Danielllll!” he called again, backtracking to the kitchen to see if he’d passed Dan on his way to the lounge.

No Dan.

That only left the toilet, but as Phil rounded the corner, he saw that the door was open and the light was off.

No Dan.

Phil’s stomach fell as he realized that Dan must have already left. Where the hell was he?

Pouting, Phil trudged back to his room to collect his phone. There was no message from Dan, something that prickled at Phil’s nerves more than he wanted it to, but he was struggling to accept the fact that Dan — the most considerate person Phil knew — had left without any sort of goodbye. Unless —

Unless Dan had woken up feeling differently. Unless he had changed his mind about Phil overnight and had snuck out to avoid facing Phil.

That was a crazy thought, though. They were great last night — somehow even better than they’d been Friday night at the bar. Whatever reason Dan had for being gone, it couldn’t be that.

Right?

Before Phil could overthink it, he opened his conversation with Dan and typed out a quick message, clicking send without rereading it.

Phil [9:21AM]: Your’e gone and didn’t tell me :(

Blankly, Phil stared at the phone for a moment, willing Dan to respond instantaneously.

But, of course, he didn’t.

With a defiant click of the home button, Phil dropped the phone back on his bed and pulled a hoodie on. Phil paused to make sure that the phone volume was all the way up before shoving his phone into the pouch of his hoodie — he couldn’t tell if he hated himself just a little bit for that.

Phil headed back to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Numbly, he stared at the water, simultaneously willing his overactive imagination to shut up and the water to boil. But no matter how hard he concentrated on the water, his mind kept drifting back to Dan, inventing more and more reasons why he might be gone.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long for a response from Dan; the kettle wasn’t even fully hot when Dan texted back.

Dan [9:27AM]: soz i’m having a busy morning. i barely even had time for the note :(

A note. A wave of relief crashed through Phil. So Dan hadn’t completely run off on him.

Phil’s eyes immediately flickered to the fridge, and then scanned the countertops — the most normal places to leave a note — but came up short.

He fumbled with his phone to reply to Dan.

Phil [9:28AM]: Where?

Dan [9:29AM]: sofa

Dan [9:29AM]: figured youd see it there

Seriously? Did Dan foolishly believe that Phil would straighten the lounge before he had any caffeine? That boy was just as much of an addict as him.

Abandoning the kettle and his efforts to make a coffee, Phil dashed back into the lounge.

Sure enough, there was a piece of paper laying on top of the pillow that Phil must have missed earlier. Eager to see what it said — especially since Dan’s messages hadn’t really given Phil much to go on — Phil crossed the room in three quick strides and picked up the note.

The page was clearly torn from a notebook, one side adorned with small, torn bits of paper from where it had been ripped out. It was also covered in words — there was far more writing than Dan’s short text message had made it seem like he’d written.

Anxiously, Phil read it over, starting from the top.

The words made absolutely no fucking sense.

Well, they did, Phil just had no idea why they were relevant at the moment.

From what Phil could tell, the words were lyrics — lyrics that sounded rather like the single Dan had released at the end of the year, but not quite.

Phil scanned the rest of the page, finding that there was smaller, more cramped writing at the bottom. His eyes caught on his own name, and he slowed down to carefully read each word.

I had an early meeting and had to rush out because Louise is apparently on her way to my flat. Thanks for letting me crash on your sofa and the blanket and charging my phone. Coffee tomorrow?

♥ Dan

So Dan had had to rush out, that’s why he hadn’t said goodbye. And he had a meeting and was with Louise, that probably explained why his texts were so short, too.

But what was most reassuring — what Phil couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from — was the small, lopsided heart that Dan had doodled next to his name.

There was no way that Dan had woken up feeling any different than he had last night, not if he’d signed his name with a damn heart.

When Phil finally, finally, ripped his eyes away from the heart, he texted Dan back.

Phil [9:34AM]: I found your note! Did you make it home before Louise got there?

Phil put the note down on the coffee table, and returned to the kitchen, his desperation for caffeine growing now that the adrenaline from his panic over Dan had dwindled. His stomach was finally unclenching and his heart rate was almost a normal pace again.

The kettle had come to a roaring boil while Phil was gone; he flicked it off and opened the cabinet that was dedicated almost entirely to just mugs.

Over the course of his life, Phil had collected al ot of mugs — arguably too many. He had special ones from family and friends, but he also had a wide assortment of random mugs he’d purchased himself over the years (usually during his dubious late night shopping sprees).

It was a bit ridiculous, how many mugs he owned considering the fact that he lived alone — and didn’t even have, well, anyone over in the mornings to share coffee with usually. But he liked them, and couldn’t bare to part with any of them, so he kept all of them.

He settled on a Jurassic World mug that he’d bought and meant to return, but forgotten. Phil spooned in some instant coffee and sugar. Carefully, he poured the water from the kettle into the mug, but the loud ding of his phone startled him and he spilled a large puddle of nearly-boiling water on the counter.

Shit.

Better the counter than his foot… or his shirt… or any of the numerous other things that Phil had spilt on over the years.

Before the water could spread, Phil swiped his phone out of danger and threw a dish towel over the water. While the rag soaked up the spill, Phil looked at the notification that had caused the whole problem.

Dan [9:39AM]: no she was waiting for me in the foyer i felt like a teenager again

A high pitched giggle escaped Phil’s mouth before he could stop it. He had a sudden image of Dan unlocking his apartment, only to find this sweet, motherly looking figure standing like a disappointed parent at the entrance to his flat.

Phil [9:41AM]: You poor thing! Was she super awkward?

After tucking his phone safely back in his hoodie pocket, Phil moved his mug to the opposite counter and mopped up the still-warm water. He was fully intending on taking care of the mess and being a proper adult, but then his phone dinged again, and Phil abandoned the towel in favor of his phone, deciding the counter was at least passably dry.

Phil pulled his phone back out of his pocket and opened the message, only for his heart to plummet.

Dan [9:43AM]: yup

Phil stared at his phone blankly. Dan’s messages were incredibly short this morning, and this one — well, this one was just one word. Phil kept staring at his conversation with Dan, but a second and third and forth message didn’t come through, like normal. He was having a hard time reconciling the abrupt, succinct tone of Dan’s messages with the cute note adorned with a little heart. Unsure what to do, Phil decided to push just a little bit more, to see if Dan would elaborate more if Phil asked something more specific.

Phil [9:25AM]: Uh oh! What did she say?

Slipping his phone back into his pocket and grabbing his coffee, Phil went back to the lounge, determined to clean up and get ready quickly so he could relax and watch a few episodes of something before he had to go to his meeting.

As embarrassing as it was, Phil checked his phone every few seconds for the next ten minutes as he straightened up the mess from the sofa, folding the blankets and rearranging the pillows.

But there was no response from Dan.

Every minute that ticked by without a message from Dan, Phil’s anxiety built bit by bit. Why wasn’t Dan responding? Was he annoyed that Phil was asking questions? Was the heart on the note more casual than Phil had thought? Had Phil done something wrong?

Overthinking the situation was going to help any, so Phil forced himself to put down his phone and carry on with his day. He tried his best to convince himself that there was no point in obsessing over Dan’s responses — or lack thereof, really. Eventually, Phil grew sick of his mind wandering back to his phone, and he put on a podcast to occupy his focus.

Phil drank his coffee and did a half-assed job of straightening the lounge. It wasn’t as clean as it had been before Dan came over, but it was good enough. Figuring it was better to get ready before relaxing, Phil jumped in the shower.

The warm water helped to soothe away some of his worries, so that when he got out and got dressed, Phil actually felt sort of relaxed. The rest of his anxiety melted when he picked up his phone and realized he had a message from Dan. Several messages, actually.

Dan [10:42AM]: she was VERY interested in why i didn’t come home

Dan [10:42AM]: turns out her and addie have been gossiping behind my back

Dan [10:42AM]: so apparently i need new friends lol

Dan [10:47AM]: my morning has been nothing but important conversations so far and i want to be back asleep on your couch

That was more like the Dan that Phil had come to know — no respect for society’s rules on sending a million texts in a row, not particularly suave, and just this side of clingy.

Phil loved it. He was glad to see that this version of Dan was back

Phil [10:52AM]: Oh wow, your sister and your best friend talking about you? That sounds awful. I’m suddenly very glad that Martyn doesn’t have any of my friends’ phone numbers

Dan [10:53AM]: you should be. i’m sure he’d tell them all kinds of terrible and embarrassing things

Dan [10:54AM]: actually, can i get his phone number real fast?

Phil [10:55AM]: Hilarious -.-

Phil [10:56AM]: By the way, do you have a few minutes to talk about some work stuff in the next hour or two?

Despite the fact that Phil had responded to Dan within a minute of Dan texting him, there wasn’t an immediate reply. This time, Phil felt less panicked by Dan’s radio silence, comforted by the abundance of messages he’d gotten from Dan in such a short period of time — perhaps Dan just had another meeting or something.

Phil was, however, a little anxious to talk to Dan. Later today, Phil had a meeting with his supervisors at the BBC, and Phil knew they would want to talk about a guest host again. Phil was hoping to have some semblance of a plan that he could pitch when it inevitably came up. A few days ago, Phil had drafted ideas for what a radio special with Dan could be like — and he was actually kind of excited about what he’d thought of — but he wanted to confirm with Dan that he was still serious about appearing on Phil’s show, and maybe even get a feel for Dan’s opinions on some of it.

As much as Phil would have liked to have spent the day with Dan, a few hours of productive time certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Phil made himself a fresh cup of coffee and settled into the sofa with his laptop, deciding to use his time to edit the video he’d filmed yesterday.

The footage was a complete wreck, really. Phil had had no idea how to make slime and had pretty much winged it. As a result, there were two completely useless takes where he’d fucked it up beyond repair and had been forced to start over. Piecing together a rough cut of good footage took nearly two hours — double the amount of time it normally took.

Just as he was getting frustrated by having to pick between two equally good, but different, takes, he was saved from editing by his phone ringing.

Phil glanced at the caller ID and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Dan. After the lack of response earlier, Phil had begun to suspect that Dan would be too busy to talk to him today, especially before Phil had to head out for his own meeting, but Dan must have found some time.

Not concerned about appearing too eager, Phil answered the call on the second ring.

“Hey, Dan!” Phil greeted with a smile.

“Hey, Philly!” Dan replied, sounding happier than Phil probably would be if he had had a day as busy as Dan’s sounded. “How are you?”

“Bored of working, you have great timing,” Phil chuckled. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t hear from you, though.”

“Sorry, yeah. I’ve been talking to people nonstop today and just managed to sneak away for lunch. I’m so over it.”

A rush of guilt hit Phil — Dan’s day had undoubtedly been filled with talking about work stuff, and here Phil was asking Dan to talk about yet another work project during his lunch break.

“That’s awful!” Phil sympathized. “We can talk later if you want so you can enjoy your lunch break!”

“I’m perfectly happy spending it talking to you, I promise,” Dan assured him. Phil felt a slow warmth spread through him at that, his heart beating a little faster and his cheeks flushing. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh!” Phil shook himself out of his fluster. “I have a meeting with my supervisors at the BBC today and wanted to talk to you about guest hosting before I brought it up to them.”

“Oh yeah, I’m excited!” Phil swore that he could hear a smile in Dan’s voice.

“So you definitely want to do it, then?” Phil asked, still not quite convinced that Dan wasn’t just doing him a massive favor. He bit his bottom lip as he waited for an answer.

“Of course, you spoon. It will be fun to work with you,” Dan reassured quickly, almost interrupting Phil.

Thank god. Phil released the lip he was chewing on, breaking out into a smile instead. He hadn’t been sure that Dan had been entirely serious when he’d agreed to the radio show.

“I agree,” Phil replied warmly “I’ve got a bunch of ideas, actually. If you have time I’d love to hear your thoughts, first?” Phil couldn’t keep the question out of his voice, still not entirely convinced Dan wanted to spend too long on the phone with Phil. Dan was quick to pacify his worries, though.

“Louise had to run home to take Darcy to daycare because her nanny got sick, I’ve got plenty of time.”

Just because Dan had time didn’t mean he had the brain power — Phil knew that better than anyone.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to just relax on your break?” Phil pushed one last time.

“Hit me with your ideas, Lester,” Dan said with a small laugh. Phil could practically hear Dan rolling his eyes.

He grinned, opening his google doc filled with notes for his potential show with Dan.

“Okay, okay, here we go.”

Phil walked Dan through his ideas for the show one by one. Even though Dan had no experience with radio, he had great instincts and proposed several great additions to Phil’s original plans. Together, they wove their ideas into an actual cohesive pitch for an episode.

By the time they’d talked about as many details of the show as possible, they’d been on the phone for nearly half an hour. The guilt that Phil had felt earlier gnawed at his conscious again when he realized that, sure, Dan might have been okay with talking to Phil on his lunch break, but there was no way that he’d wanted to spend his whole lunch break discussing work.

“Thanks for helping me. I’ll let you go enjoy your break now, though. You should probably actually eat something, you know.”

“Lou texted and said she’s bringing Greggs back, so I’ve got a bit more time to kill. If, um, you’re free, that is…” Dan trailed off, sounding suddenly unsure of himself.

“I’m always free to talk to you,” Phil assured him, speaking softly.

“Great,” Dan agreed, his voice just as soft as Phil’s. A slow smile spread across Phil’s face, his stomach filling with butterflies and his heart flipping over.

Normally, phone calls were terrible. Phil hated talking on the phone with PJ, his brother, even his mum. He’d always prefered to talk on facetime, or skype — or anything really. Something about not seeing the person, not knowing what they were doing and seeing their reactions made phone calls awkward and impersonal.

But not with Dan.

With Dan, Phil could hear the smile in his voice, and could perfectly imagine the way Dan was probably tapping his fingers on his thighs.

With Dan, phone calls were great.

But then again, with Dan, anything would probably be great.

[[next chapter]]

#phanfiction #phanfic #phan #mine #slow burn #singer!dan #barista!phil #phan au #coffee shop au #iminclinedtowriting #love yourself #ly

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steamishot · 3 years ago

Text

hurricane watch

updates about my current job: my director K reached out to me personally last thursday on a phone call to give me some updates about the work from home situation. this working from out of state has been my most extensive lie ever lol. K gave me the ok to work out of state for at least the next 6 months since there are still no details about it and i’ve been “waiting for a long time”. he mentioned that the return to work for our current employees may likely be extended to january 2022 due to the delta variant. so, everything continues to be up in the air. K was super supportive, as he usually is. they are working on doing an equity increase for me, to bring my base salary up so that it’s similar to the amount i’m getting with overtime. i don’t think it’s likely that they’ll bump my hourly pay up that much, so i want to continue receiving my overtime as long as possible. i’ll have to pretend to move over here even though it’s been almost a year! hahaha

i still have my linkedin on as “open to work”. it’s the best passive job hunting technique. i had a call with a recruiter today and will have a phone interview with another company on wednesday. even though i’m most likely not interested in the jobs, it’s good to practice talking about my professional experiences and build connections.

on saturday, i had a socially overwhelming day. L, S and i met up at the 99 ranch in jersey city around noon to purchase ingredients for hot pot. we then had homemade hot pot at S’s new condo. i’m definitely a hot pot snob, especially coming from LA where we have great and affordable hot pot, so i didn’t think the hot pot we had was all that great lol. i got home around 5:30pm and had dinner with matt, who had just woken up for his one night shift. after dinner, we both left the apartment. he went to work and i went to a board game party at A’s. there were warnings about storm henri, so i almost cancelled on going to A’s but i felt bad because i was the initial reason why she decided to host on that night anyway.

A’s board game night was the first party i’ve been to in a loooong time. i met three new people: L, L’s partner and H’s bf. i’m interested in L and L’s partner because i heard they live in a 6k manhattan apartment LOL. the last time they met up for board games, L hosted in her fancy manhattan lounge. we first played resistance, a social deduction game, which gave me a lot of anxiety lol. i hate bluffing, pitting people against each other, competing to talk in a group, and conflict in general so... exploding kittens and taboo afterwards were more fun. at around 10-11pm we started getting flood warnings on our phones that stated there were “life threatening and dangerous conditions” outside. some people chose to pool in an uber home. i ended up taking the subway home with H and her bf. my shoes got soaked but everything else was A-OK. the subway was also quite full. i also drank too much sake so i ended up puking after i got home. :(

my BS in accounting program officially begins on 9/1. i completed my orientation and will meet with my program mentor for the first time tomorrow. i’m excited to be a school girl again. i love being a student, but my problem is (like my brother) is that we’re bad at applying our degrees and education practically to the real world.

i’m so happy that for the most part, matt is done with his long long months of hard rotations. he’s been on an easy rotation for the last two weeks and it’s been so much nicer interacting with a rested matt. we actually sometimes go out and do stuff like normal people lol. recently, we walked into a brooklyn neighborhood that was new for us and was really amazed at all the cool restaurants in the area. we tried panzerotti for the first time and got greeted by a really nice italian man. contrast this to us delivering our food most of the time and never having to interact with local food spots. this weekend we have plans on going to flushing for a haircut and lunch. we usually never get to go to flushing (asian town) because it’s a two hour round trip commute so i’m excited~ i’m also happy that our schedules align for the next year. he’ll need to be extensively studying/job hunting for his third year of residency which begins 10/1, and i’ll need to be extensively studying for my accounting program as well.

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whereisvanderwood · 7 years ago

Text

The Tenth.

Yona of the Dawn | Akatsuki no Yona

Kija x Reader - Fluff

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In the middle of re-wrapping herself in her blanket after waking up to the sun shining in her eyes, Granny burst through the door and made her get dressed instantly for the day ahead, (Y/N) strongly bluntly protesting the entire time, saying 'this is so stupid' over and over again.

Once the perfectly white dress was zipped up, hair styled for a somewhat formal occasion, and some handcrafted jewellery put on, (Y/N) was ready to meet the nine other 'fortunately selected' girls in the village square. They all looked identical to (Y/N), and suddenly that split-second feeling that she stood out from everyone else was nothing.

(Y/N) heard the girls whispering amongst each other, seeming unable to containing their excitement. She just stood there blankly staring in front of her, not feeling the least bit of shared adrenaline as Granny was dragging her potential future-husband towards them. The girls shut themselves up and stood tall, shoulders back, some puffing out their chest that little bit more than the one next to her.

"I-is this really necessary, Granny? I don't think this is the best time for this...!" Kija struggled against the old lady's grip on his ear as she was carried along her pedestal.

"White Dragon, it was your twentieth birthday not so long ago. You could have had multiple wives by now! The time has come to choose a spouse!"

"But what if my master comes? What will I do then?"

"Leave your wife behind, of course! We will look serve her as the revered White Dragon's bride!"

Kija gave up. Once Granny was set on something, she could not be disobeyed or reckoned with. He sighed, and approached the host of brides that anxiously awaited his favor. He felt something akin to intimidation as the beautiful women stared intently like vultures waiting to feast. He gulped and stood in front of the first girl in line, bracing himself with a forced smile through the nervousness.

"White Dragon," she squeaked out, "I-I can be the greatest wife you'll ever have! I'll take care of you and stay by your side forever and ever and never betray you as my perfect husband-" she stopped when Kija very quickly moved onto the next one.

The second girl was much more level-headed, but in a prideful way like she was already the determined winner of this game. Feeling as though he would be the one serving her, he moved on again, skipping the third girl who had been muttering death threats the whole time.

All were similar to the first and second, except for the tenth girl, who didn't really jump at the chance to prove her worthiness to the White Dragon.

"If White Dragon doesn't want to do this, Granny, then why are we doing it in the first place?" she suddenly said, looking straight past Kija. He definitely wasn't expecting this kind of response.

"There's a time for everything, (Y/N), and as the White Dragon's caretaker it is within my power to say that it's time for him to choose a spouse."

"But why? So you can have grandchildren?"

"Because I said so!"

"But I don't want to get married!" the girl continued to retaliate.

Kija stood there uncomfortably as the bickering continued between the two, the other girls becoming impatient and frustrated with (Y/N) and joining the squabble. The tenth eventually walked away, leaving the White Dragon to stare after her, questioning why she wasn't as equally as keen for marriage as the other selected women.

After the fail of the first attempt in finding Kija's destined bride, the ceremony was put off for the next few days, or at least until Granny modified her choices. As Kija would stroll about, his eyes would always somehow find the tenth on a stroll at the same time as him, or sitting under the great tree, central in the village.

He couldn't help thinking about her and her difference from the other ladies on that day. Sure, her attitude may not have necessarily been polite, but she wasn't afraid to go against Granny and stand her ground. Kija admired that somehow.

"Granny, what part of those girls did you find 'suitable' for being my bride?" Kija asked when he and Granny were alone in his quarters having tea.

"Are you questioning my taste?"

"No. It's just that... some of them were a little too eager, and others were a bit scary. But there's one who didn't even want to be part of it. Why did you choose those girls specifically?"

"Tsk tsk, White Dragon." The old lady shook her head. "Sometimes it isn't about how you see them as at first glance, though it's part of who they are as a person." She took a sip of her tea, letting the dragon warrior ponder on her statement.

"What about the tenth? Why did you choose her if she didn't want to be part of it?"

Granny raised her eyebrows at mention of her. "(Y/N)? Are you rethinking that you finally want to get married?"

"N-No, Granny! I'm just curious. She's not like all of the other maidens who all desperately want to be in a relationship with me." His words drifted as the name rung around in his mind over and over again.

"Well, she's beautiful isn't she?" She said as she looked out the window with tea in hand.

Kija looked out as well, and saw that she was still sitting in the same place under the tree with her pencil and notebook. Her hair sat on her shoulders perfectly with a flower tucked behind her ear, and the sun through the leaves made an enchanting set of silhouettes looking like dozens of butterflies fluttering around her. She had a fitting name, emphasising her natural beauty.

"She is..."

"I knew it! You want to marry her!"

"Granny, please!" he whispered urgently, trying to keep Granny quiet before the whole village could hear.

"Tea time is over. You must go and see her this instant." The old woman placed her cup down gently in front of her, before being dashed out of the room on her pedestal with her carriers. Kija was left stunned, not sure why Granny just left out of the blue.

He turned his head back outside and saw (Y/N). He wasn't sure why her disinterest was so interesting to him. Maybe because they shared commonality in not looking for marriage right this moment? He wanted to get to know her more, and see what else was different about her from the others. The idea of marriage could wait, no matter how impatient Granny may get.

Throughout the day he watched her washing clothes in the river, farming crops for the whole village with other workers, squishing grapes for wine to be served at banquets, and then finally joining the village's protectors who were responsible for guarding the village entrance in the thick of the fog. He didn't see her again until later on when the moon had risen.

Most were asleep by this time, but both (Y/N) and Kija were still exploring the calm of the night. They had not noticed until they accidentally bumped into each other when turning a corner.

"S-Sorry, White Dragon, I didn't see you there."

"I-It's alright, I wasn't watching where I was going myself." They apologised as they rubbed their heads.

"What are you doing awake at this hour?"

"I sometimes walk around when the stars are out. How about yourself?"

"Just getting back from guard duty. There were a few trespassers but we took care of them."

"Thank you for protecting our village. I know the village elders are grateful, as am I." Kija noticed the flower managed to remain in her hair all the day long. He thought back to when he and Granny were looking at her from his quarters' window. He blushed, recalling his thinking at the time. "D-Did you get to write today?"

"Sadly, no. I was thinking of doing it now before the moon gets covered by the clouds, though. I might not have time tomorrow."

"You sound like you're often busy."

"I am. Now if you'll excuse me, White Dragon, I bid you a good night." (Y/N) swiftly walked around him with her book in hand, and disappeared from sight. Kija sighed, hoping she would have been willing to talk a little longer.

Returning to his room, he tried to spot her from his window, but could only see the faint glow of a candle from behind the tree. Maybe she knew I'd be able to see her, he thought. He tossed and turned that night, unable to escape the many thoughts in his head.

(Y/N) was already harvesting crops when Kija had woken up. Fixing his atrocious bed hair, he went into the village square and caught up to her as she was walking by with baskets of fresh produce. He offered to help carry one of hers, but one of the other working girls gave her basket to Kija in a hurry, wanting to be the one who Kija helped. (Y/N) sighed, a little bit frustrated that they kept seeing each other.

She was not amused by, what seemed to be, the dragon's wooing tactics. She thought she made it clear enough that she was not interested, and yet here he was, squishing grapes with her. But there was something about the laughter filling the air that made her feel light. After all, the more help she had the sooner she could write again.

The time came again for (Y/N)'s shift in guard duty. "I have to go now," she told the dragon warrior. "I'll see you later, White Dragon."

"Be careful out there, (Y/N)," he smiled to her, grape juice all over his face. She giggled at how dopey he looked, making Kija blush.

He watched after her as (Y/N) caught up with her group, and he noticed her pocket-sized notebook falling out from her pocket. She was gone too soon before he could stop her, and now he was suddenly left with (Y/N)'s book, not sure what to do with it. He quickly put it into his pocket.

The hours of the day had escaped him as he found many things to do around the village that was helpful. Hearing the clattering of weaponry as he was strolling in the nighttime yet again, he saw the guarding group returning from the shift. He closed the book and jogged outside to meet (Y/N).

"E-Excuse me, (Y/N)?" he called out to her. "You dropped this earlier," he said as he shyly took it from his pocket and handed it to (Y/N). "You were gone before I could give it back to you."

She blushed as she snatched it from his hand. "Did you read it?"

"N-No, I didn't." He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. "Were there any outsiders today?"

"There weren't. I was planning on reading my book to pass the time, but I couldn't find it in my pocket anywhere. Thank you for finding it."

"No thanks necessary." Now it was his turn to blush. The others had already entered their houses, and so it was (Y/N) and Kija alone again. "Will you be writing again tonight?"

"Yes... Why do you ask?"

"M-Might I be allowed to accompany you?"

(Y/N) hesitated. She enjoyed the solitude that came with writing, but a very small part of her was saying that she wouldn't mind his company. It may be small, but it was still part of her.

"If you would like, I suppose. You might get a little bored though."

They told each other they would meet at the tree; (Y/N)'s usual place. Kija thought it might be a good idea to bring a candle so that she could see her page better. They sat side by side against the great roots of the oak, listening to the nightscape. The white dragon noticed that she had not started writing after quite a bit of time passed.

"I can't think of anything," she complained.

"How about re-reading some of your old material? Would that help?"

She nodded. "I think I'll do just that."

"Could I... perhaps hear a little?"

"I-If you want. It's a little embarrassing, though. Just one page." She cleared her throat and breathed in and out a couple of times before reading out to him.

"My mind drifts to the sky in this moment of uneasiness I find myself in. It looks like burning paper. The rims of the pink and purple clouds are being singed away like a match to parchment. Me again. And yet, although the feeling is sad, it's so beautiful to watch. Behind the chaos I continue to watch unfold in the heavens, the blue sky stands back. So beautiful, clear, pure. I wish more people, including myself, were like this."

She continued to read, and she felt more at ease the longer she did. Kija leaned back against the tree and looked up at the stars as her words melted his heart. He smiled contently. He'd never heard anyone speak in such a manner before, and from such a different perspective as well. The pages of this tiny book were endless, full of her thoughts that revealed, to him, her beautiful mind.

"You're a really good writer, (Y/N)," he said eagerly with lit-up eyes once she had finished speaking. "You have such a beautiful way with words! I've never met anyone who thinks like you."

"You flatter me, White Dragon."

"I never flatter. I-It's the truth!. You should be proud of your work." he smiled. "A-And... You're... pretty, too..."

(Y/N) averted his gaze as her cheeks went hot. "Y-You know I'm still not interested, right? Complimenting me isn't going to get you anywhere." An awkward silence followed.

The wind began to blow and the leaves rustled, making the night air very cold all of a sudden. Kija draped his cloak over (Y/N)'s shoulders, a little surprised when she didn't protest at his gesture.

Her hand rested directly next to Kija's when she put her book down beside her. Whilst still looking ahead, her eyes watched their hands sitting next to each other. Empty. Before she knew it her hand was slowly shifting itself towards the white dragon's, whose hand was doing the same thing.

Once their fingertips touched, it was like their hearts were suddenly in synch. Their little fingers linked, then their ring fingers, followed by middle and index. (Y/N) dared not look at Kija when they were then holding hands.

"...So-"

"I still don't want to get married. But..."

"Start slow?"

"I'm still figuring out stuff, so... you know..."

"It's alright." Kija turned to face her, and she finally worked up the courage to look into his glittery blue eyes. "I can wait."

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ladywolfmd · 7 years ago

Text

Ars Longa Vita Brevis

Summary: "The Art is long. Life is Short." - Hippocrates Jon is a fresh board certified Trauma Surgeon, attending conventions and workshops in between looking for a hospitals and moonlighting to start on a real practice. On one convention hosted by The Emergency Medicine Department of Casterly Rock Metropolitan Hospital, he chances upon seeing Dr. Sansa Stark, a fifth year Neurosurgery Resident. The last time Jon saw Sansa, she was a first year med student while he was a third year and were both attending a summer suturing workshop in Highgarden.

(You can read this in AO3 too: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11545893

"Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking. We are just about to touch down at Lannisport Airport in about 10 minutes, and we are on time. The weather around Lannisport is clear and sunny and will remain throughout this summer solstice. Thank you for flying with us today."

Jon had just woken up with a start, the weight of sleepless nights after taking on extra shifts from two hospitals he was moonlighting in at Storm's End, still weighed heavy on his lids. Ever since he passed the oral boards - the final frontier before he could officially call himself a licensed Trauma Surgeon - five months ago, he's been busy scouting hospitals that would take him on so he could start his practice. So in between applications and waiting, and of course, after a well-deserved, long overdue vacation he took, (He went sandboarding in Dorne, with his co-residents, Ed and Ned. Namely, Edric Storm, and Edric Dayne), he was moonlighting in different ERs, joining medical missions, and of course, attending many conventions and workshops to keep sharp.

And this time, he would be going to a postgraduate course in Casterly Rock.

While waiting for the plane to land, he lazily looked out his window and marveled when he saw the outline of the famous Rock come to view even from still high up. The massive stone hill was the second tallest structure in Westeros, second only to the Hightower Castle in Oldtown, while The Wall rounded up the three as the third highest.

The unmistakeable rock indeed looked like a lion staring up the sun, and much as I wasn't a fan of the Lannisters in general (because frankly who is?), the Rock was indeed looking beautiful the closer we approach. Jon thought. Especially the ostentatious castle, which looked like a golden beacon on top of the hill - like an offering to the gods.

As the plane descended, Jon watched as even the waters of the Sunset Sea gleamed ochre, proving its namessake with the sun setting over it while red sails with golden lions dotting over the bay, signaling that they were now approaching the famous docks of Lannisport.

As more of the walled city showed itself, more reds, golds and lions as adorned by the uniforms of the men of the City Watch were everywhere, making Jon fight the urge to roll his eyes.

At least you had to hand it to the Lannisters. Spare no expense indeed and this will only get more grand and obnoxious in an in-your-face-you-are-in-Lannister-territory obnoxious, the closer we enter the lion's den.

Jon suddenly thought of his uncle Viserys and aunt Dany - and this time he didn't hold back from rolling his eyes.

Dragonstone wasn't better. He shook his head and chuckled, the view of the runway coming closer and closer as they approached.

Dragons and Lions and too bold colors. He shook his head again.

I prefer Direwolves.

This time he smiled more genuinely.

Once they landed in LanX, Jon was impressed with the service, for indeed, it was truly one of the world's best, never mind that Jon has never seen as many blondes in his life and he was just at the airport.

It only took Jon barely ten minutes through luggage and the checks when he was already on a shuttle to his hotel in Casterly.

The twenty minute ride went without issue. Jon was thanking the old gods that his cabbie wasn't chatty so he was able to enjoy the view of the Sunset Sea as it stretched out from up the skyway.

He took a moment to pull out the brochure and program souvenir they mailed him after he registered.

"The Emergency Medicine Department of Casterly Rock Metropolitan Hospital, welcomes you to its 78th Annual Postgraduate Course with this year's topic: "Breaking Brains and Bones" An Update on Head Traumas and Fractures, Approaches in the E.R."

Venue: The Lann Regency Hotel

July 12-13, 2012

The course was open to all specialties and even general practitioners and all allied health professionals but most of those who were going were, of course, Emergency Medicine specialists, General Surgeons, Trauma Surgeons - like me - Internists, and of course, with the topic, Neurologists, Neurosurgeons, and Orthopedic Surgeons.

Neurology was always a waterloo of Jon since medschool and since he won't be able to avoid head and spine traumas in the E.R., he quickly grabbed the opportunity to attend when Rhaenys, his older sister by his father, showed the ad for it when she visited him in Storm's End while she was attending an Obstetrics convention held there.

"Try and explore The Rock while you're there. For all the pride the Lannisters have, it's well founded there. It's honestly beautiful once you get past the sea of blondes," Rhaenys chuckled. "Anyway, you'll see Dr. Tyrion there and maybe Sarella."

Jon smiled. Dr. Tyrion Lannister was one of his favorite professors at Dragonstone University where he studied. He was a Neurophysiologist but was more famous for being a Bioethicists. He was also scheduled to do a lecture for the course and he'd be sure to attend.

Sarella Martell, however, was his sibling's cousins from their mother. She was an Anesthesiologist who specialized in Orthopedic cases as well as a Toxicologist like her father, Dr. Oberyn Maryell.

His thoughts were broken his phone rang. Dany. Daenerys Targaryen, Jon's aunt.

"Hello?"

"Jon! Are you in Casterly already?" came his aunt's cheerful voice.

"Almost. Still in the cab. How'd you know?"

"Drogo saw your name on the listings. He's asking if you're also staying at the Regency."

Drogo was Aunt Dany's husband. They met when she was assigned as a diplomat in Pentos. Drogo, in turn, was an Ortho jock there and it was no surprise that he would also be attending. Why didn't I think of this earlier?

"I'm staying at the Regency. Give me his number, I'll call and maybe we'll get drinks later," Jon always liked Drogo. Sure he could easily murder an army with his bare hands, but he was actually a decent guy - and putty in Dany's tiny hands. He smirked.

"Great! I'll send it. We've actually been there before so he could show you around. Tomorrow's the start of your thing, right?"

"Aye,"

"Perfect. I"ll tell him. Enjoy your time there - but not too much! Remember, dragons are better than puny lions," she giggled. "And you are still a dragon no matter what."

He snorted. "Okay." I changed my name, okay! Move on.

"The next responsible thing to do is to tell you to go meet a girl while you're there but I don't think I could stomach you bringing a Lannister to join our bloodline," she gagged. "Soooo... the compromise is to say, have fun and don't forget to use protection!"

Jon hung up, embarrassed, before he could hear her cackling on the other line.

Trust Dany to take a jab at my on-again, off-again relationship with Ygritte Ryder, an EMT I met in Skagos where she lived. Sure we weren't labeled or constant, but long-distance would do that to you. She's still my first love or infatuation or whatever worked and we talked and met up as we could, but we both knew that we were just each others 'in-betweens' until 'the one' comes along. I was nothing but fond of her and we did try more seriously but we both knew there was something that was amiss.

Before Jon could think further, the cabbie alerted him.

"We're here sir."

Jon stepped out the cab, grabbed his bags, and paid the driver before turning around and facing the entrance of the hotel.

The entrace of the Lann Regency was just as lavish as most everything was at Casterly. It was fronted by a giant fountain with the bottom filled with golden coins as part of the decoration, while the red tinted double glass doors were framed with a pair of pouncing lion statues made of gold of course.

Cars and shuttles and even limousines with flags came and went, with people, some in business suits, some in more casual travel ones, mostly went up looking to check in. Like Jon, most of the doctors opted to fly in a day or night earlier.

With one last look behind him, Jon started walking up.

"Here we go."

Day 1

After two of three sessions in the morning, they were given a fifteen minute coffee break. And breaks like these usually meant making the rounds on the different booths of the sponsors, set outside the plenary halls which included, for the majority, the different pharmaceutical and medical equipment companies, promoting and selling old and new products.

Jon was looking at one booth that sold surgical instruments from the brand he favored. While he was comparing the different pocket minor sets, Drogo came up behind him holding two black coffees.

Jon accepted one and thanked the hulking doctor with the long pony tail to match his long beard. "Thanks."

Drogo nodded. "Minor sets?" He looked at the table Jon was examining.

"Aye. Can't have enough of them," Jon half-smiled.

Drogo answered with a nod again, moving towards the drills and rods. Like Jon, he wasn't much of a talker - well, a sober Drogo anyway. Jon almost smirked at the memory of Drogo slurring along last night and drunk calling Dany. Almost because he also remembered his wake up call this morning with Dany telling him off for not keeping Drogo in check.

He looked him over and was impressed that there was not a trace of drinking on him. "So, Dany woke me up this morning."

Drogo leaned back as he laughed boomingly, his ponytail almost knocking out a guy behind him. He slapped Jon's back a little too hard then that if it weren't for all those long hours in basic army training he had, he'd have flown across the room.

Jon glared at him but Drogo just shrugged at him sheepishly. "The moon of my life is a woman of many words."

Just then we heard a girly voice. "Jon! Drogo!"

The two of them turned around and saw a short young woman with olive skin, dark curly hair and equally dark eyes. Sarella. She grinned when she finally reached them. "Hi."

"Hi Sarella."

Drogo, again, just nodded but at least he was smiling.

"Rhaenys told me you two would be here. I was just talking to Tyrion when his bitchy aunt Genna cut me off and shooed me away," she grumbled.

Dr. Genna Lannister was another famous Lannister, and like all Lannisters who were doctors, her field was neurologic as well. She was a Pediatric Neurologist and like most Pedia Neuros, she was a cutthroat bitch.

"Where are they now?"

Sarella's eyes brightened then. "Oh! I saw them going to the Research presentations from the Neurosurgery residents in Hall B." She eyed me then. "You should come, Jon. I saw your cousin's poster presentation, and she's one of the presenters - also the highly favored to win at that."

Cousin?

She noticed my confusion and exchanged a glance at Drogo who just shrugged at her. "Your cousin, Jon? Sansa Stark?"

Sansa - Sansa Stark...

She sighed impatiently. "You know. Tall. Very Pretty. Blue eyes. Red hair."

Oh.

"Seven hells, right, right. Of course. She's on her," Jon paused and did a mental math, "Fifth year?" How could I forget?

Sarella threw her hands up. "Finally! Yes. Honestly Jon, and to think that Rhaenys told me you were more Stark than Targaryen. You forgot your own cousin."

Jon felt a little guilty then. But among his Stark cousins, he wasn't particularly close to Sansa even though she was the only one who joined the medical field among them. He knew her as the pretty one or the doctor one. Between her attending boarding school at Highgarden and training at Oldtown, they really didn't get to meet each other often enough. Just a couple of times and mostly never went beyond polite greetings. Frankly, Jon didn't know how to talk to her.

"Come on, lets show our support!" Sarella all but linked one arm each with Jon and Drogo.

Drogo looked amused as Sarella, petite as she was, was leading two broody men to the hall.

Sansa.

Jon tried to remember the last time he saw her. And then he felt even more guilty when he remembered it was roughly nine years ago. But to his credit, he practically lived in the hospital ever since he started his residency and he was sure it was the same for Sansa. Residency meant missing family occasions, social gatherings - everything that entailed you have a life, basically.

He knew that, he swore he did. He knew she was on a neurosurgery residency at the Citadel Hospital. If there was one thing he remembered at the top of his head, it was this one because her entering the program drew attention. First because everyone assumed that she was going to Plastics with her delicate almost invisible stitching skills or maybe even Dermatologic Surgery for her natural beauty and genius-level IQ. But no. She wanted Neurosurgery. The "top of the totem pole" in the surgical elite - Jon rolled his eyes muttering 'god complexes' - but also the specialty that was sexist, continuing to be the most male-dominated field. Robb, her brother though, cleared that up after he told Jon that she was doing it for their brother Bran who was crippled at an early age after a freak accident near The Wall.

Nine years though.

July 2003

Jon was practicing his knot tying when he heard a frustrated huff from the table next to his on his right.

He looked to his side and saw a girl with red hair tied in one long braid, who was also practicing her knot tying - her brows were drawn together in concentration as she started undoing the knot she made - a clear indication that she did it wrong because a good knot was one that held but could easily be undone with one strategic pull or cut.

He looked around and he wasn't surprised that there were no other people who are practicing. After the morning session, most were still out for lunch. They were in a two-day basic suturing workshop at Ashford.

After another sigh, Jon worked up the courage to walk up to the girl who, from the looks of it, was definitely younger than him, but somehow was oddly familiar though he couldn't place her. He was lucky that he already mastered knot tying last year when he was still a second year medical student. But that took many frustrating moments such as what she was experiencing now. He was only able to master it because he looked for someone to teach him better and figured maybe that's what she needed too.

"Um, excuse me," he tried to smile through his nerves.

She looked up at him then and Jon saw the bluest eyes he's ever seen, rendering him mute for a moment.

Seven hells, a pretty girl. What am I doing?

But the girl blinked and looked at him as if she was trying to place him too but she didn't say anything and that was when he remembered that she was probably waiting for him to proceed.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck nervously and tried to smile. "Hi. I'm sorry. I - I, uh, doyouneedhelp?"

Her cheeks colored as she looked down, biting her lip, muttering an embarrassed and slightly defiant, "I'm good. Thanks."

Jon was tempted to go back to his seat but something pushed at him to keep talking to her. Struggling for words, he looked down instead to her knot tying kit and guessed where she was having trouble. On the dummy was one perfect square knot. His guess would be she was having problems with tying the second knot.

"One hand or two?" Jon tried again.

She reddened some more and sighed before looking up at him and admitting in a small voice. "Both actually."

Jon smiled kindly then. "The second knot is always the hardest. Especially if you have two left hands," he tried to joke. Cursing himself right after for how corny it was but her reaction encouraged him to continue.

A corner of her lips turned up and her eyes were warmer, never mind that there was a raised brow at that. "You know how to do it then?"

Jon nodded. "I know how to do it...I can teach you, if you want."

She smiled at him more genuinely then and motioned for the seat beside her.

Jon took his own set and placed it beside hers. "Okay, I'll show you how to do it first and then we'll do it together, sounds good?"

She nodded. "Sounds good."

"We'll start with one hand," he said as he started on tying the first knot. "Now for the second," he made the mistake of looking at her to see if she was watching and saw that indeed she was. She was watching alright, and watching very very closely, he could feel her breath on him.

Her eyes met his then and she frowned. "Why'd you stop? Go on."

Jon's neck turned pink and he swallowed before showing her how to do the second knot. "See? The trick is to know the position of the thumb. Wanna try it now?"

She nodded and quickly went to her own kit, while waiting for Jon to undo the knots. Step by step, Jon taught her while she mirrored perfectly on her own and after a couple of doing it on her own she beamed up at Jon.

"See? It wasn't that hard," Jon laughed nervously but felt some pride that he made her smile happily. She was a quick study, this student of his. He was right in thinking she just needed better instructions and to be honest - the instructions for this workshop was too complicated.

"Thank you," She grinned at him.

He blushed. "You're welcome. It's Jon by the way."

Her smile fell a little and Jon panicked.

She eyed him curiously before breaking into a smirk. "You don't remember me at all, do you? I mean, we met just once before but still."

Jon's eyes bulged and he wracked his brain but came up blank. He was sure he'd remember someone as beautiful as her.

She giggled then and arched a brow. "I'll give you a clue since you were kind enough to help me. My name is Sansa. Sansa...Stark." She grinned and Jon cursed.

"Fuck. Of course! Seven hells, you're one of Robb's little sisters." Red hair. Blue eyes. She could pass as Robb's twin and she looked like Aunt Catelyn. Was this really the prissy little girl in pigtails?

She giggled again. "Took you long enough. But to be fair to you, we never really 'met' met, did we?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I guess not, but still, I should've known. I'm sorry."

She chuckled. "It's okay. Between boarding school and starting right away at Citadel, I wasn't home much, more so with my parent's functions." She shrugged. "We're not allowed to have lives, remember?" She winked conspiratorially.

He laughed back and nodded. "We don't have lives so we can save yours, and all."

She blinked at him then and grinned. "I want that tattooed on my body!"

"Sorry, but I already got you beat on that," he winked.

She pouted.

"I'm kidding," Jon grinned.

"Then we'll get a matching set when we both pass the MLE. Do you promise?" She held up her pinky.

"That means I'd have to wait - When do you start med anyway?"

"I'll be a freshman come September," she said proudly.

His forehead crinkled. "Aren't you in college still?"

"I skipped two grades and I went for the straight program, just like you," she said smugly.

"Oh! So you're the Know-it-all-Stark!"

She smacked him then. "That's Bran but I'm pretty smart too."

He rubbed his arm. "Right. Sorry. First year huh? Isn't it too early to learn suturing?"

She raised a brow again and her smile fell. "Too early?"

Great, I insulted her. "I didn't mean it that way, I meant, I - they teach you that on your second year."

That seemed to placate her. "You're studying in Storm's End, right? So you're...a third year?"

"Incoming," I nodded.

"Any sage advice then?" she leaned closer.

Jon thought for a moment before answering with a smile. "Take as many vacations as you can. Better yet, don't waste anymore of this summer. After tomorrow, fly off somewhere - anywhere. Start medschool when you start medschool. Either way, no matter how hard you prepare, at the beginning, you know nothing."

Her forehead puckered. "Really?"

Jon regarded her, and remembered being as excited as she was when he was finally going to medschool but quickly got a dose of cold water over how very unglamorous it was. It was a sleep when you're dead situation every day. "Well...not to ruin your excitement and all but... I mean, I love it despite how hard it is but... I just - I would've appreciated it if someone told me how hard it really is, you know? Not put it up in a pedestal and such. Everywhere there is a hierarchy even in the smallest way. Fuck - I'm sorry. Don't listen to me, I'm just rambling," he tried to backpedal when he saw the light in her eyes dimming.

He stopped when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up and Sansa was smiling at him warmly. "It's okay...Jon. I kind of get what you're saying. I mean, I had an idea it's going to be tough but I had no idea it's like that. I mean, I was only worried about lack of sleep and missing out on family occasions but that's not all I'm in for, is it?"

He examined her. "You want the whole truth?"

She looked at him pleadingly and felt a squeeze on his arm - a reminder that she hadn't taken off her hand from him then. "Please. I...I'm not exactly from a family of doctors. Well...you're my only hope as my only medical relative, it falls to you then."

Shit. Right. Both of us would be the first Stark to be doctors. Well, more her than me anyway. "Okay. Why don't we get lunch first?"

She started beaming at him then. "Sounds great - so you know all these stuff already?"

Jon nodded uneasily. "Uh, somewhat. I want to be a surgeon."

"Yay! That means you are the best teacher! I want to be a surgeon too. Teach me when I get stuck again?" She asked looking up at him hopefully.

"I'll do my best," Jon agreed. As if anyone can say no to that look. Was this what Robb was telling me about? Bambi eyes? Or was that his youngest brother?

Once she was comfortable enough, Sansa talked Jon's ear off halfway through their lunch at a nearby diner they went to and he did his best to keep up and true to his promise, gave her all the tips he could think of to help Sansa adjust once she starts formal medschool while Sansa soaked it all up and asked many questions and hung on to his every word.

Jon thought her smart and witty, a fast learner, and of course, stubborn like the rest of the Starks, but she was also very passionate.

As he watched her wave goodbye at him before driving off the following day, Jon thought that Sansa would be fine.

As long as she holds on to that passion, she'll be a great doctor.

Jon blinked back at the memory of that one summer he got to know Sansa a little bit and wondered why that was the last they saw each other in person. Well, last that they actually interacted face to face anyway.

Sure he got the occasional messages - mostly her asking him about some subjects and topics and yes, he'd check in on her - he was, after all, her only relative in the field and he took that role seriously, well at first.

At first because, their medical lives really did get in the way. He couldn't check on her as much as he could - he could barely even take care of himself!

And he really believed that she was doing more than well and would only need him on her first year tops and barely even. At most, they'd message each other on holidays and occasions, asking if one was as stuck as the other - wishing each other a happy hospital/school holiday. But that stopped too by Sansa's third year - Jon's internship year. And from then on, nothing from both ends.

Robb always talked about her proudly, especially Uncle Ned. I only heard good things about her, surely she was doing fine - more than fine. I heard she graduated from Citadel at the top of her class and she did get into their Neurosurgery program - one of the toughest to get into.

Surely, she'd still be the bright-eyed go-getter girl she met that summer right?

Jon couldn't be any more wrong.

The Sansa that he saw was no longer the slow to warm, shy at first girl with her long red braids, curious blue eyes, and always with a ready smile girl he met that summer - filled with dreams and brimming with excitement for starting those dreams.

The first thing that he noticed was the hair.

Her long wavy hair that curled at the ends and shone with the prettiest shade of red he's ever seen (yes even better than Ygritte's and gods knew how much he liked hers too) was now cut so short, the back looked cropped - shaved even and though the tips still curled, they barely went past her ears.

Jon couldn't understand why but seeing Sansa's hair like that really took him back. But he shook that off and tried to see - hoped to see if that was the only thing that she'd have to change. But it wasn't.

Her hair only made her features sharper, her high cheek bones were more pronounced, and higher - her eyes - her eyes that were so warm and honest before, looked impassive, cold and firm just like the rest of her.

She was sitting with all the poise of a queen with ankles tucked into each other at the side instead of legs crossed, and her hands were primly set on top of her lap while she kept her chin slightly lifted as she watched the current presenter silently.

The only sign of hope for the girl he met was that underneath her long white coat - a requirement for some residents to wear to presentations like these so they could show their hospital logos - she was wearing a dress the same color as her eyes.

"Wow, Jon. Your cousin is gorgeous!" Sarella elbowed me. "But... oh her hair! She had such beautiful long hair then but she can pull this pixie cut too."

Jon nodded dumbly, unable to tear his eyes off of her. She was still beautiful. Even more to be honest. She'd be bald and still be beautiful. And Sarella noticed the change because she was three years Sansa's senior in Citadel U where she went too before going back to Dorne for her residency, he briefly remembered.

"Tough. She looks like she's ready to fight," Drogo added. "Fierce eyes."

I couldn't agree more. Jon nodded again. There was a toughness in her that screamed intimidation despite the cool and calm exterior.

And when she stood to take her turn at the stage, Jon started to understand quickly how the change came about.

A hush went over the crowd as she was introduced and remained while she walked towards the podium. She walked - no - almost floated so gracefully yet there was a confidence in her Jon hadn't seen before.

It was there that he heard the voices - all from guys while the moderator continued listing off Sansa's credentials.

"Oh she's up."

"Yes. The Ice Princess is next."

"More like frigid snob."

Jon's brow ticked and he was about to turn around and beat up whoever the voices belonged to when he felt a hand gripping his arm and saw Sarella shaking her head then giving the same look to Drogo whose jaw was clenched so tightly.

"I don't care how smart she is. I still don't think she's a good fit for the program," continued the airy voice. "There's only so far book-smart can get you. I mean, sure, she has skills yes, but if one has to work double time - give that much effort to do the job then maybe that extra effort would be better off in a...less critical field."

"He's only saying that because she was praised and he was scolded on one of Dr. Jaime Lannister's ORs they were both assisting in," the other voice pointed out.

A snort, probably from the arrogant one. "Please. Everyone knows he's only being sweet on her to get access to that ass."

Jon's jaw clenched while Sarella held back a disgusted sniff and Drogo was starting to get scarily silent more than usual.

"And now, he's just saying that because he tried and failed in tapping that ass too."

The assholes chuckled.

"I'm just saying that a woman is not cut out to belong in Neurosurgery."

"Shhhhhh!" Jon craned his neck at the direction of the angry shushing and saw a tall bearded guy with long red hair glaring at them. "Will you cunts shut up? We all came to listen to her not to you pricks gossiping like hens with cocks." A Northern accent. Jon smiled. Northern loyalty right there. He then glanced Jon's way and noted their tight expressions and glared back at the rude men. "Shut up, listen, and clap for your co-resident or get the fook out. Fooking cunts."

Who are you and can we shake your hand or give you a medal? Wait. Co-residents?

Jon looked behind then and saw that the seats two rows behind them were occupied by residents - Citadel Hospital Neurosurgery embroidered with the lighthouse logo on their coats. That only served to tick him off more.

Sansa was presenting for them! I mean, I knew neurosurgery was competitive as fuck but with each other and at home base at least! Not in fucking contests like these. Jon bristled.

Thanks to the redhead, they finally shut up and remained that way like good residents did when reprimanded by an attending and great timing too because Sansa was just about to start on her presentation. Still Jon couldn't get over it.

"Stop it," Sarella hissed. "It's just the jealousy talking - that and being threatened by a woman nonetheless," Sarella hissed in his ear. "Sexist pigs."

"Fine." Jon focused instead on the girl he thought to have a crush on that two-day summer they had and saw the woman she'd become the more he watched her speak.

"Good morning doctors. I'm here to present to you my research entitled: Invasive versus Non-invasive approach to treating CPSP or Central Post-stroke Pain, a Meta-analytic review..."

Jon couldn't believe the transformation. Sansa exuded a quiet confidence that was the right amount of pride and grace. Her presentation was clear, to the point, and though there were many technical stuff she discussed that he wasn't familiar with, she was able to present it in a way that anyone, no matter what specialty, could get unlike the first who didn't care about the audience as he kept dropping flashy jargons simply said to impress. Sansa didn't need any embellishments. Her topic alone was attention worthy. Neuropathic pain or nerve pain was the hardest pain to treat.

And this was also where Jon saw some of the old Sansa he met. When he realized that Sansa didn't just present a case to win, she was presenting a topic that she resonated with and something she wants to both educate and call more attention from for its importance and impact not just for her colleagues, but across the different specialties. It was the sincerity in her voice and the thorough research she put in that would win this for her and true enough, at the end of this event, she did.

As she received her certificate and the ten thousand dragon check for her department's choice of charity foundation, all three of them stood up and applauded her first before everyone else joined in.

Her eyes found Jon then and she grinned briefly before settling into a simpler and humbler close lipped smile.

She was still in there. Jon grinned in relief. They haven't transformed her truly yet.

He looked back to gloat at her less than supportive co-residents who were clapping either half-heartedly or just simply politely. Well, at least, half of them. Some were clapping more enthusiastically with actual pride in their eyes. There was hope for them too.

"She won. As if there was anyone else," Sarella said loudly while she nudged at me.

Jon puffed out his chest and agreed loudly too. "It was hardly a competition."

Drogo grinned wickedly directly at the residents.

"Now you see, you fooking greenboys. That's how it's done," came the redhead.

Drogo called him over and they grabbed each other's hands and pulled themselves together for the manliest hug Jon's ever seen. Somehow I'm not that surprised that they know each other.

"Drogo, you shite, how've you been? Heard you got yourself whipped by a woman," the redhead bellowed before taking note of Sarella. "So are you the woman who finally whipped the Khal's giant horse arse?"

Sarella only laughed and shook her head. "That's my aunt you're talking about and she does hold the whip for this one," she poked Drogo who didn't look one bit ashamed as he shrugged. Sarella offered her hand then. "Sarella Martell, by the way. Anes and Tox for Dorne." He shook her hand and introduced himself. "Tormund Giantsbane - don't ask. Trauma surg in Eastwatch Veterans." He leaned down then and whispered loudly while looking at Drogo. "And I'll only believe he's whipped when I see it," he winked, making her laugh and Drogo roll his eyes.

He then looked at Jon and offered his hand to him too. Jon took it and gave Tormund a firm shake. "Jon Snow. Trauma too, no affiliations yet."

"Ah. Fresh off the boards? Wanna consider taking it up North?"

Jon was about to say that he was in fact, looking to work in the Northern peninsula where he could be far away from being the political son in King's Landing - also, the same reasoning for changing his last name, when Sarella interrupted.

"He's also the cousin of the presenter you defended," she piped up.

Tormund grumbled then. "Couldn't let them get away with that. Where I'm from, women and men don't matter. As long as you can do the job, then by all means, do it. Besides, Northerners stick together and I wasn't about to let them badmouth a fellow redhead." He then punched Drogo and Jon. "Just as we bearded men need to stick together."

Jon winced a bit as Tormund belly laughed while Drogo raised his brows and crossed his arms before he looked at me. "Shouldn't you go to her?"

He reddened. "I - yes. Of course."

Sarella flashed a knowing smile at Jon that Tormund caught. "Why don't you go on ahead?" she suggested.

"Yeah, go try and steal her away from the horde," he grinned wickedly for someone Jon just met. "Little miss here needs to show me a picture of the woman whose got Drogo's balls in her hand."

Sarella's eyes lit up. "Ooh wait!"

Drogo gave Jon a knowing smirk before he whipped out his phone and showed Tormund pictures of Rhaego, his and Dany's two-year old son. "This is the Stallion that will mount the world," he said proudly.

"Good pecker on that one. Nice job, for Khal Drogo," Tormund looked up at Drogo impressed.

Shit, I didn't even ask about Rhaego and he's a cousin too. Wait - cousin. Right.

Jon scanned the hall and found her talking to his great-uncle Aemon who was a Neuropsychiatrist.

He gathered his courage and started walking over to them. It was his uncle who saw him first. "Ah, Sansa, have you met with my great-nephew, and if memory serves me correctly, your cousin?"

She turned around then and gave Jon a bright but shy smile. She's even prettier up close. "Jon," she said, his name a soft whisper on her lips.

Jon chuckled nervously. "Sansa, hey." Should I go for a hug? Wait, we haven't done that before, have we?

Sansa stepped closer but hesitated like Jon did before she finally went in for a brief hug. She smells great. Jon's first thought before remembering to hug her back. They pulled away quickly, looking at each other awkwardly with Sansa tucking her hair behind her ear twice and Jon rubbing at his neck.

Man up, Jon. "Congratulations, Sansa. You were great up there."

She smiled shyly. "Thank you Jon."

He cleared his throat. "You look great. I mean, how are you?" He cursed inwardly.

Sansa's corner lip quirked but she didn't call him out. "Thanks and oh you know. Alive and surviving," she lifted a shoulder yet Jon caught something briefly in her eyes but before he could say anything, she shifted the topic to him. "I however am unforgivably late with my congratulations. I saw you in the top ten for your specialty boards. Congratulations, Jon." She reached up and gave Jon a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling away and giving an apologetic smile. "Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," he immediately answered.

She pouted. "Well, forgive me for not keeping contact since - it's been too long and I've been rude."

He shook his head. "It's okay, for that I'm equally to blame. But how are you - really? You're almost at the finish line."

She blinked then and tried to give a too bright smile. "It won't be long now, yes."

We heard a cough behind us and to Jon's horror he forgot his great-uncle was still there and Sansa looked equally ashamed too. "So I take it you've met then."

"Of course. Jon helped me adjust for my first year in med school and he taught me how to stitch my first suture," she recovered quickly while Jon shifted uneasy with praise.

"I hardly helped. She would've done great with or without me," he shrugged.

Sansa was about to protest when we saw her co-residents approaching. Immediately, Sansa's demeanor shifted.

Her back stiffened and her face smoothened into her neutral mask.

There were five of them, all with closely cropped or completely shaven heads that was the signature of most neurosurgery residents across most programs - a sign of solidarity for their patients that they'd have to shave as part of the OR preparations as they say, but really it was just one more form of soft hazing. It didn't apply to female residents but Jon guessed Sansa parted with her long locks to prove a point. One of them was always flanked, moving ahead of their assembly like geese in the air - another show of hierarchy.

That one, had unfeeling violet eyes he trained at Sansa. "Congratulations, Dr. Stark," he managed but Jon couldn't see the sincerity and he also recognized that voice as being the arrogant one. Finally a face for the voice.

Sansa gave a nod and a small smile. "Thank you Dr. Dayne." Finally a name for the face.

She then turned to Jon and Dr. Aemon and introduced them. "Dr. Aemon, Jon, these are my seniors. This is Dr. Gerold Dayne, our chief resident," she motioned to the leader. "And this is Dr. Humfrey Hightower the deputy chief, Dr. Lyman Darry, and Dr. Horas Redwyne. Doctors, of course, you know Dr. Aemon. And this is Dr. Jon T-Jon Snow, Trauma Surgeon and my cousin." She almost slipped on Jon's name but it touched him all the same that even without communication, she was updated making him feel doubly guilty.

They of course, greeted Dr. Aemon readily and only politely regarded Jon who didn't really mind. Dr. Aemon excused himself and that was when Dr. Dayne started on Sansa.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything important, but I have need of you Dr. Stark," he raised a brow at her and Jon once again felt his brow twitching.

"Of course, Dr. Dayne," she nodded at him and shot me the subtlest apologetic look. "I - " she started.

Jon cut her off and smiled kindly. "Go. I'll see you around later or tomorrow. Sarella and Drogo said to say congratulations too but they're busy over there."

She looked where I pointed and for a moment Jon could see the look of longing in her eyes but was quickly gone when her seniors started leaving. With a final wave and a quick smile, she went and followed them. "Tell them thanks and I hope to see them too."

"I will." There wasn't much Jon could do. It was an unfair world but Sansa had to follow an order from her senior.

Groveling, kissing ass, humiliation, unfair hours, and underpaid work - that was residency.

There were stages and there were steps in medical hierarchy. It gets better eventually on the way up but the way up is often dark and full of terrors.

There was nothing to do but just stick it out because like all ladders, eventually you get to the top.

Jon found Sansa later that night at the rooftop.

The rooftop of the Regency as converted to a VIP rooftop bar which was open for the delegates these two nights though they closed the bar at exactly midnight. By quarter, the staff would lead the guests down the VIP lounge instead where it was open all day and night citing that it was unseemly to catch guests falling asleep or getting drunk at the rooftop - safety reasons as well as snobbish pursuits. But guests may still stay as long as they are not inebriated and remain awake.

Drogo, Tormund, and Sarella went ahead while Jon chose to stay and enjoyed the quiet.

It was half past one and he was leaning on a rail, puffing on a cigarette while he watched the view of the still lit docks of Lannisport they could still see from this high up the Rock.

He thought he was alone when he saw a flash of red from the shadows.

He snuffed out his stick and threw it before walking over to investigate and almost jumped when he saw it was Sansa.

She had her back to him while she sat on top of her coat on the floor, still in her dress with her legs pressed together and tucked to the side, typing away on her laptop while she leaned against the wall.

"Sansa?"

She jumped - almost dropping her laptop but she failed in catching the glasses she was wearing when she surged forward. She recovered quickly while I crouched down, picked up her glasses that I've never seen her wear before, and handed it to her.

"Jon!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm as surprised as you are," offering her glasses once more.

Even in the dark Jon could tell she was blushing. She took the glasses from him and wore it back but she didn't look up at him muttering an embarrassed thanks.

Jon thought she looked cute with her silver frames. He bet it made her eyes looked bigger, if only she'd look at him.

"Working late, I see," Jon said before sitting down next to her.

"Yes - but, oh Jon, you don't have to sit down. You'll get your pants dirty!" she frowned.

Jon chuckled. "Says the girl sitting on her white coat."

She pressed her palms to her forehead, dislodging her glasses a bit. "I know. It's gross but can I get a pass tonight?" she tried to say cheerfully but Jon could tell she was exhausted.

"Anytime. Why aren't you in your room?"

She frowned again. "My bosses are on the same floor and I need the peace and quiet or I'll never finish," she sighed.

"What floor is that?"

"45th."

"Mine is at the 50th. You're welcome to stay there."

Sansa gave him a wry smile. "At least buy me dinner first."

It was Jon's turn to flush not realizing how he sounded. "I didn't mean - I

Sansa waved him off and chuckled. "A joke, Jon. I am still capable of it."

Jon ran a hand down his face and shook his head. "You're mean and here I was doing a -

Sansa cut him off with a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry. Thanks for the offer Jon, but I'm good here. I'm actually just polishing the report I have to hand over bright and early today," she rolled her eyes.

"Sorry," Jon could only offer.

She shrugged. "S'not you're fault. It's whoever invented hierarchy," she shivered and that was when Jon noticed that she was just in a short sleeved dress that only came down to just a little below her knees. It was a little longer than what he usually saw women wear but it only made Sansa look even more lady-like which suited her just as well in Jon's opinion.

He didn't ask just took off his coat and handed it to her wordlessly.

When she tried to protest, he raised his brow in challenge while she shivered again, causing her to bite her lip and accept it graciously.

While she shrugged it on, he walked over to the bar area and took a table cloth - the cleanest one and when he went back, he draped it over her legs before settling back beside her.

Sansa looked at him gratefully then. "Thanks Jon." She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze - like she did years ago. He smiled at her fondly then.

She dropped her smile. "You should head back and sleep."

"So should you."

She sighed. "I want to but I really need to finish this."

"Anything I can help with?"

"Do you know anything about deep nerve electrostimulation for sheep versus monkeys?"

"Uh..."

Sansa quirked her lip. "Thought so. Go on, seriously, I'll be okay. I promise I won't tell Robb you left me alone if that's what you're concerned with."

"Didn't think about him. Though that is a good reason to keep staying with you, threat of your brother and the whole Northern army," he grinned.

She sighed. "Fine, suit yourself. I might take another hour."

"Go ahead, take your time. I don't mind. it's nice up here. 60th floor and all."

"I won't be chatty until I finish," she warned.

"Shutting up now," Jon made a show of zipping his lips causing Sansa to laugh once before shaking her head and retrieving her laptop.

Jon tried not to watch her as she worked, briefly contemplating if he should get her something warm to drink since she was going to be stubborn about this.

Eventually after ten minutes, he excused himself to do just that, only earning a half-committed nod.

He came back up after fifteen minutes with two styrofoam cups filled with hot water and a takeaway bag filled with tea packets, condiments, and lemon bars (they were the only ones good to go) he bought from the lounge.

Sansa looked up at him surprised and adorable looking in his too-large coat and those damn glasses.

Jon sat beside her and pushed the bag of lemon bars at her while he took out the tea stuff. "Are you an Earl Grey or a Chamomile person?"

Sansa still looked at him stunned and possibly close to tears that Jon almost panicked. He didn't know a thing about comforting a woman in tears. He coughed and repeated his question.

Sansa looked down and played with the lid of the bag she was still holding, blushing. "E-earl Grey."

"Ear Grey it is," He started making her tea and was about to ask if she took it with sugar or honey when he saw her looking inside the bag with tears silently pouring down her face.

"S-Sansa what - "

Sansa quickly wiped her face but failed to stop the tears. She tried to smile wanly. "Sorry Jon...I don't know what came over me - it's just... it's lemon bars. I love lemon bars."

She started wiping at her face more furiously then looking annoyed at herself. "Ugh. Sorry. I'm okay, I promise. I just - I'm fine - this is stupid."

Jon understood what she's going through. She was tired, she was overworked and likely faced one form of humiliation today despite her win and now someone was being nice to her. He's been there too. Any kindness, no matter how small felt like water in a desert.

So he stopped what he was doing and crouched in front of her, gently taking her glasses off, setting them safely, then he took her hands in his before bringing her to his chest slowly, wordlessly just holding her still. Experience taught him that rubbing the back or stroking the hair only brought more hysterical tears - more less words.

Sansa stiffened at first until finally she relaxed and crumpled into his chest, just the touch of her cheek to his collar and nothing else.

This kind of crying, he knew well. It was the frustrated and tired one. It didn't need the sobbing or the hiccupping - that'll only tire you out more.

Sometimes, you just needed a good cry - just the right amount of silent tears to release some of the tension. Just enough to calm down.

After a solid five minutes, Sansa raised her head, wiped her eyes one last time and took a deep breath.

Jon released her slowly and gently but kept close in case she needed another minute. "Better?" he risked.

She smiled at him then and nodded. "Yes," she laughed nervously. "Thanks Jon. I needed that. Sorry I ruined your shirt."

Jon just shrugged. "A small sacrifice you can make up to me once you become rich and famous. My small contribution to your future success."

She laughed again, for real this time. "I'll add that to the list."

"You do that," Jon smiled. "So, ready to get back to work?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Good," he reached out and placed her glasses on her. "So. Sugar? honey?"

Sansa blushed and Jon almost did too at her reaction but he managed a smirk. "For your tea."

"Oh. Just h-honey," he heard her utter a tiny fuck that he'll let slip now.

"Honey, it is," he teased while he added it to her tea.

"You're mean."

"Sorry. Tea for apology?" He handed her the cup.

"Thanks. Apology accepted. How'd you know about the lemon bars?"

"Honestly, they were the only ones I could get fast. A lucky move then," Jon admitted sheepishly.

"Well, according to the Alchemist, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it. It must be my lucky break," she grinned while taking a bite.

Or mine. Jon thought and was quickly embarrassed for even thinking it.

What followed was companionable silence as Sansa worked. Before Jon knew it, he had dozed off.

He woke an hour and a half after with a light shake from Sansa. For a moment he forgot where he was but then he quickly adjusted when he felt his back.

"Hey, sorry to wake you but I'm actually done," she was whispering and cradling her laptop, her coat was draped in one arm, while a hand stayed on hid shoulder and from this angle he was able to take her all in better.

Jon just blinked, too caught up in her eyes that looked midnight blue in the dark.

She bit her lip and looked apologetic. "Sorry to wake you from what I saw was a peaceful sleep but you'd probably be more comfortable in your bed than here."

Jon snapped out of it and rubbed his eyes while he stood up. "You're right. Are you really done?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yup. All done and I even cleaned up too."

Jon frowned as he took in everything. "You didn't have to do that."

She rolled her eyes. "Too late. Come on, let's get back."

They started walking back when Sansa stopped for a moment.

"What is it?"

She blinked and smiled again. "Nothing. You go back ahead. I think...I want to look at the port for a little while. I'll follow and sleep, I promise."

Jon eyed her then before holding out his hand.

Sansa looked at it and then his eyes confused.

He changed and offered his arm instead. "Come on. Let's look at the view for a moment."

Likely knowing Jon won't give up, she just smiled wider and held on to his offered arm and followed when he lead her to the view he was looking at earlier.

After watching the water break against the rocks below Sansa wrapped her arms around Jon. "Thanks for tonight, Jon. It's been a while since I've been treated like a human being."

Jon returned her hug. "Sure. Though you won't be thanking me for the many times I wanted to punch your chief today."

She looked up at him then and frowned. "You heard him and the others say nasty things about me."

"Sexist pigs," he spat Sarella's earlier comment.

Sansa chuckled then. "They're just threatened by me."

"The seven hells they should. You're brilliant and tough. Drogo thinks so too."

She grinned. "Yeah?"

"Fierce eyes, I quote."

She grinned.

"It's tough and unfair, but I have faith in you," Jon tucked a strand of her short hair, feeling mad again that she had to cut it just to prove a point.

Sansa noticed but let it slip, closing her eyes instead at the feel of Jon's fingers. "I know. I'm pretty tough too."

Jon chuckled. "I know. I was almost afraid that they've transformed you for good."

She tilted her head then. "Almost?"

"For one, you're still wearing the most lady-like dress ever, and another was your passion resonating with your research presentation," he ended with a shrug.

Sansa shook her head. "The passion, yes. I do love it - every little thing about this even the times I want to kill myself or murder them instead because why should I die when they should instead moments."

"You would've covered that up easy."

"But the dress? Really Jon?"

"Uh, I figured that was another way to prove a point. That they may take away your hair and call you mean things just because you're a woman in their sick man's world they've built up, but you showed them that you can do their jobs better in a skirt and heels too," he said proudly. "That and the fact that you're two years their junior to boot."

"Wow."

"Well, wow to you first. And I'm really glad you didn't transform into a heartless gunner," he said lightly but his eyes were sincere.

"Well the summer before freshman year of med, an incoming junior taught me more than just sewing sutures and tying knots. He told me that entering the medical world was going to be tough and unfair that I must be tougher but fairer and it stuck to me all these years," she eyed Jon impishly.

Jon couldn't hide an embarrassed grin. "Wise friend."

"Mhm," Sansa nodded. "But really, the true lesson was that, he showed me what truly made a difference between a good doctor from the rest."

"And what's that?"

Sansa took his hand and and squeezed. "Kindness," she said so softly.

Jon just looked at her with his mouth open, clearly not expecting that.

Sansa started tugging at his hand. "I'm beat. Come on."

Jon shook his head, and followed, with his heart impossibly full, and a smile he couldn't wipe off from the compliment.

Kindness.

He does know some things after all.

Day 2

When Jon woke up he decided to take a risk and ask her out when the opportunity comes within the day.

He felt that something that summer years ago but thought it was more on her adoring her excitement and zest for medicine. He figured this time, he won't wait nine years to realize it and give it a go.

But unfortunately for him, the opportunity never came.

Jon didn't see her all day and he finally found out where she was from Sarella when he met up with her in the afternoon sessions.

"Sorry Jon. I saw her earlier and she told me that she had to fly back to Oldtown right away according to the shithead boss of hers. No wonder the Daynes all but cut him off the family. Her boyfriend picked her up though and they rode his family's private jet. But before she left, she asked to give this to you," she pushed a small box at Jon's hands before he could process what she was saying.

He broke it down.

One, Sansa was on a flight back to Oldtown.

Two, she was flying with her boyfriend on her boyfriend's family's jet. How did he miss that?

And lastly, there was something in his hand.

"I don't - boyfriend?"

Sarella's eyes narrowed before widening with realization. "Oh shit."

Jon looked to her for answers.

She took his arm and sat him down. "Okay, calm down. Relax."

He didn't.

She rolled her eyes and gave up. "Apparently, it's still new. He works at Citadel Hospital too. He's Dr. Willas Tyrell, one of the Radiologists. I called my dad after I recognized him when Sansa introduced us quickly." Oberyn Martell was also an Anesthesiologist as well as an Acupuncturist among other things and he was friends with Garlan Tyrell, Willas's older brother. Jon tried to absorb as Sarella explained. "Dad said that Garlan was happy that his younger brother was finally dating."

Jon's heart dropped. "Is he...is he decent?" He didn't bother to ask about looks because he knew the Tyrells were generally good looking.

Sarella smiled sadly. "He's smart, charming, handsome, well-mannered, and kind."

Kind.

Jon felt crushed.

"But it's all still new like it's only been a month and they hardly go out with her schedule. They're probably still getting to know each other - "

But all Jon heard was kind. If he was truly kind, then it won't take long at all.

I was nine years too late.

Jon stood up then and sighed, before mustering up a smile and thanking Sarella.

"Wait! Before you go broody, she did leave you something," she pointed to the box I was still clutching.

Jon opened it then and inside was a note and something wrapped in a golden tissue-like paper.

He read the note first.

Jon,

I can't thank you enough for more than tonight. I won't forget it just as I never forgot the kind guy who took pity on me when I couldn't tie my knots. You taught me more than that though, if you recall. You told me that the sign of a good knot was for

1) how it held firmly and

2) how it could be undone by just one strategic pull only the surgeon who made it knows as well as the teacher who taught it

I didn't tell you but I kept the tie I used and stole yours when you weren't looking ;)

Now I'm giving it back attached to something that would always remind me of your knot pulling last night. (I used two handed knot tying!)

Good luck with your next step Jon! Sorry I had to go again.

Until the next time we meet then (Under better circumstances I hope)

Sansa

Jon unwrapped the other gift and held it up.

He smiled when he saw a golden replica keychain of the hotel with the blue practice tie, knotted in a perfect surgical knot twice on the chain.

"See? There's hope still. They're not married yet," Sarella grinned.

Jon rolled his eyes and shushed her when Dr. Tyrion Lannister started talking.

"Okay. Last session for this course, I hope you are still awake and alive. I shall try to make this as short and as entertaining as I can. In short, all my visual aids will be anatomically perfect for everyone and I've spiked the next batch of coffee," he grinned. "Alright, I have your attention now? Well if not at least even before I speak my topic I already have your money in my pocket so we're all good here."

Laughter.

"Let me start with a favorite anecdote especially since I see a lot of residents from all over here with eyebags darker than the balls of an elephant and I could pick out the fresh board passers from the crowd easy as pie. Okay, are you ready?"

Ars longa,

vita brevis,

occasio praceps,

experimentum periculosum,

lucidum difficile

"Hippocrates, our father of Medicine said, 'The art is long, life is short, opportunity fleeting, experiment dangerous, and judgment difficult.'" He paused. "It's a tough challenge, we chose to pursue for a living. And it never ends for we keep on learning. It's hard, and more often than not, as much as we want to save lives, we want to kill our fellow doctors just as much too," he paused again but this time from the laughter that erupted from the crowd.

He raised his hand for silence before he continued. "But in the end, it's still the life we chose and thus we have no choice but to keep on living it for as long as we can. We have failures, we have triumphs, but most of all we keep on trying. But also remember, not to forget the third line. 'Occasio praceps.'

"Some opportunities come once in a lifetime. In the occasion that you miss it once, and it presents itself again, don't be a dumbass and grab it by the balls, tie it up, and never let go."

Jon swallowed and clutched the keychain in his pocket.

"Now then, I can begin."

As Dr. Tyrion went on his lecture, Jon was only half-listening.

As much as he wants Sansa happy and he truly does even if it's with someone else, he'll still hold on and hope.

They were still young.

They still had time.

"Art is long, after all," he muttered as he glanced down at the knot Sansa gave him.

#jonsa #fanfiction #jon snow #Sansa Stark #jon snow x sansa stark #fanfic #doctors AU #modern westeros #ladymdfic

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neubauje · 7 years ago

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BEGT ch. 14

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 AO3

Five minutes in the basement of the apartment complex is all Yagi needs to swap the two loads from washing machine to dryer. It’s not as much time as he would like in order to compile his thoughts, but he’s not about to dawdle and leave Aizawa waiting upstairs any longer than necessary. Steeling his nerves, the weary host climbs his way back up the three and a half flights, and slips back into his apartment. “Aizawa... we should talk.” He glances around the small living room, not seeing the erasure hero there, and is about to duck into the bedroom, when he hears the other’s voice.

“I’m out here.”

Toshinori turns his head toward the voice, and is surprised to spy the balcony door cracked open, leaving the blinds rattling softly in the breeze. He lets himself out onto the balcony and slides the glass door shut all the way, turning apprehensively to join Aizawa in the night air. “Aren’t you cold out here with no shirt?” (more under the cut)

Aizawa lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug as he tips his head stiffly to the side, keeping his back to the apartment as he leans forward against the railing. His eyes sweep out across the orange and blue lights of the city’s skyline, which casts an odd glow to make the pink track pants almost seem like a dusky lavender instead. “So talk,” the gentle command is almost lost to the wind.

Yagi draws closer and steps in against Shouta’s back, fitting them back together again as neatly as they’d been on the subway the previous day. Reaching in with his right hand, he carefully works it in under the straps of fresh gauze acting as a sling, then gingerly curls his left arm around the shorter man’s stomach, keeping him close while framing his still-healing arms with stronger, whole ones. Aizawa starts to tilt his head back to look up at the taller hero, but Toshinori rests his pointed chin atop the other’s crown, just holding him against his chest for a few minutes while keeping his expression out of sight. The heat which seems to constantly radiate from Yagi’s body is enough to counteract the slight chill from the late night breeze, and Aizawa leans back against him to relish the embrace against his bare skin.

Eventually, Toshinori gathers the will to speak, his voice rumbling softly against the back of Shouta’s head. “Aizawa, this past week has been... I’m thankful for the opportunity to get to know you better, not only as a peer and co-worker, but as a close friend. When I heard you mention you’d been living alone, I recognized some of the same loneliness and isolation I’ve had since moving back here, and this time we’ve spent together has done a lot to help with that. At least, for me.” He gives a firm little squeeze around the shorter teacher’s shoulders and waist, trying to make his point clear, “But this... You and I?” He sighs softly into the black hair under his chin, “This can’t happen. Not like this, not now. It wouldn’t be right.”

The younger teacher seems to freeze in place, the muscles of his chest tensing up again beneath Toshinori’s grasp, “What do you mean.”

All Might grimaces to himself and slowly strokes his thumb over Aizawa’s shoulder, just the smallest of gestures to add a little reassurance, “Shouta... You’re not of sound mind right now... and not just because you’re full of painkillers, either. It would be unethical of me to let this develop while you’re in my care, when you’re healing and dependent on me for your very livelihood. The power imbalance alone makes my head swim with the ramifications...” He shakes his head a little, those long blond bangs flapping gently in the wind, and glances down at the man in his arms.

“You’re sending some very mixed messages,” Aizawa tensely shoves his shoulder blades against Toshinori’s chest, still careful not to strike him in his weak spot, but firmly cueing him to disentangle himself and back off. The taller hero reluctantly complies, and Shouta turns in place to lean back against the railing, letting the ends of his hair fly free over the edge. He fixes his glare on those heavily-shadowed eyes, trying to keep his mouth from forming a grimace or a scowl or a sneer or anything but the carefully-guarded neutral mask he’s spent so long training it into. “What was I supposed to think?”

Yagi averts his gaze, unable to meet that intense stare this time, and he folds his arms across his chest with a little shiver. “I’m... sorry. It’s just, it’s been so long... I clearly let myself get carried away, despite my best efforts to keep things professional between us. It can’t- I won’t let it happen again.” He glances back up resolutely, but Aizawa brushes past him and shoves a shoulder against the door handle, fighting not to break into a snarl when Yagi reaches to help him slide it open, and closed again once he’s followed back into the relative comfort of the apartment they’ve been sharing.

Aizawa stalks to the couch and attacks it with his knee, trying to pull the cushions off to get it back into the bed formation. He stands back in silence as Toshinori comes over to help, then falls back onto the thin frame, makes a grab for the edge of the blanket between cast and chest, and rolls across the width of the couch, cocooning himself in a make-shift semblance of his sleeping bag. Yagi watches all this with concern, knowing that between the plaster casts against skin, the awful couch mattress, and the pillows lumped unevenly into the fabric burrito, this can’t be comfortable. “Aizawa...”

“It sounds like you need some space,” the encumbered guest cuts him off brusquely, “I’ll ask Present Mic tomorrow if he’s still willing to put me up for the remainder.”

“Ah... I see.” All Might sighs and turns to let himself out the front door, dragging his feet down the hall to go wait out the rest of the drying time in the basement, with the clothes. With a sigh, he settles into a gangly squat, sitting on the last flight of stairs, the soft buzz and flicker of the basement’s fluorescents and the louder, thumping rattle of the dryers quickly lulling him into a shallow sleep, at least until the steady sound of the machines cuts off. Toshinori sits up blearily and takes the time to carefully fold and sort both loads into each respective carrier, then eventually bulks up and returns to the third floor. Ducking into his own door to set the duffel and hamper just inside, he glances at his watch and bites his lip, then knocks at the door across the hall. Thankfully, Mrs. Ogawa doesn’t seem to adhere to most stereotypes about going to bed at too early an hour, or at least, if he’d woken her, she doesn’t seem too phased by it. And sure enough, she replaces the coins from his cargo pockets with a handful of candies to tide him over.

The rest of the evening proves tense, as Toshinori manages to convince Aizawa to at least get into a pajama shirt and a slightly more comfortable position to sleep in, then collapses in bed with his phone, using the school’s messaging system to preemptively send Present Mic a heads-up about the request. Mic, were you okay with taking care of Aizawa while he finishes healing? I can bring his things with us to school tomorrow if so.

The reply awaits him by the time the alarm blares from next to Yagi’s ear, where he’d dropped the phone as he’d fallen asleep. Sure dude, no prob.With that confirmation settling things, Toshinori dutifully goes through the morning paces, this time adding Aizawa’s re-packed duffel slung over his shoulder again during their morning commute. He tucks it into the teacher’s lounge for safe-keeping while the two of them lead their respective classes.

Hizashi seems to be in good spirits that evening as he lugs Aizawa’s duffel to the trunk of his car. “Oh man, Shouta, it will be so much fun to have you over, I can’t wait to show you our new digs!” He slams the trunk lid and climbs in behind the wheel, glancing over with a quick grimace when he spies the other teacher lingering outside the passenger door. “Right.” Dashing around to get the door, he swings it shut as soon as Aizawa is seated, then slides across the hood to get back in place, revving the engine to life before tearing out from the school’s garage.

Aizawa tenses as the rough drive knocks him about, trying to brace against the floor and the glove box with his legs, in lieu of a seatbelt or grab-handle. He glances over at his old friend, catching on to a bit of the chatter, “Our?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, mine and Midnight! Between her paychecks and mine, we managed to get one of the classiest suites you can FIND in this town!” Yamada flashes a proud grin and tilts his sunglasses against the red glare of the setting sun. “You might not see her tonight, though, she usually gets in pretty late, unless her extracurricular schedule has a gap in it. She’s a harsh mistress when it comes to keeping up with household chores, but Worth. It. when it comes to bringing in the hot guys~”

Shouta chuckles softly and shakes his head, thankful for a commute which is less than half the time he’s been dealing with on the subway- any longer as Mic’s unwitting passenger, and he would surely have suffered a stress fracture to the knee keeping him in place against the dashboard.

The apartment suite in question is every bit as classy as Hizashi had described; the penthouse of a thirty-story building, it’s surrounded by exterior walls made of nearly nothing but windows, showing off a fantastic view of the downtown nightlife on every side. The furnishings are sleek and modern, the giant plasma TV surrounded by racks of movies and albums alike, the kitchen large enough to cater out of, and the two bedrooms decked out in tasteful decor with a king-sized bed in each- a four-poster canopy bed, in Midnight’s case. Even the bathroom puts others to shame, with a jacuzzi-jetted tub, an overly-lit mirror above a sink nearly covered in various beauty and grooming products, and a high-tech washlet which features far too many little fiddly buttons and options, a far cry from the basic one Aizawa had been able to use on his own in Toshinori’s modest apartment. “Sooooo, what do you think?” Present Mic flashes another grin and twirls his wrist playfully, indicating the whole suite in one gesture.

Aizawa humors him with one arched eyebrow, “It occurs to me that with as much as this place costs? For the same amount, you two could probably afford a proper house.”

“House schmouse,” Mic quickly dismisses the idea with a wave of the same hand, “That’s no fun at all. Come on, let’s get you settled in.” After a quick snack of red bean dango and a few leftover pieces of sushi, Hizashi digs a lightweight blanket out of the linen closet and throws it over Aizawa, stretched out on the big puffy sectional couch in the sprawling living room. The erasure hero sighs as he listens to his host wash the gel out of his hair for the night and then head to bed, eventually letting his tired eyes drift along the city lights visible through every window wall around him, illuminating the suite quite sufficiently even without the overhead light fixture.

Aizawa groans grumpily and tries to bury his head under the blanket for a bit of peace and darkness, halfway considering calling Mic back out from where he’s probably already gone to sleep. The couch, while seemingly plush and extravagant, is hardly better for sleeping on than the pull-out mattress he’d spent the previous two nights on, the light snack of starch is no dinner, and he’s still dressed in his work outfit without a shower. Shouta squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this is about the same as what he’d been living with for a long time now, but... a twist in his gut forces him to admit that at this point, he’d rather just swallow his pride and go home.

Eraserhead takes pause at that thought, suddenly wondering when ‘All Might’s apartment’ had somehow become home.

Chapter 15 (Rated X) - Chapter 16

#boku no hero academia #My Hero Academia #bnha fanfiction #Erasermight #my writing #Behind Every Great Teacher #BEGT

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