"The fuckin' irony of you asking me if I'm decent," Patrick mumbled. He answered by flushing, washing his hands, then walking out of the room. A moment later, Drew's clothes went flying through the air and crashed into the curtain. Well, his shirt and pants, at least. "You can pick up your nasty undies yourself," Patrick informed Drew as he marched away, moving into his kitchen. He'd been gifted some machine which he had to admit, was very nice, and required minimal effort for a drink. This morning it had the added benefit of only making one cup at a time. Patrick could debate on how generous he was feeling while his drink was poured.

"Needed to stretch my legs," Drew said, just to be a shit. Amused, he raised a curious eyebrow at Patrick. When the curtain was pulled closed, he lifted a hand up to rub at his eyes until they felt ready to open. Huh. So he was naked. That explained why his ass was so cold. Drew wasn’t entirely sure he’d been distinctly Drew-shaped when he made it into the slick tub. He was staring at something that looked a lot like bite or claw marks at the edge of Patrick's shower curtain. "Hurry up then, it's fucking brick in here." Pushing himself up to a crouch and then to near-standing, he scrabbled at the tiles, feeling woozy, feeling wobbly. He ended up leaning bodily against the wall of the shower, feeling a strong sense of deja-vu. Had he done the same thing last night? In reverse? Had he been a wolf when he fell into the tub and had to stay, too out of it to do much else? From experience, he knew it was a little difficult to get dressed without opposable thumbs. Ha. He snorted softly, entertained by himself. "Hey. Hey, man. You decent?" Drew reached out to rustle the curtain, not pulling it aside, just using it to make noise. And because he could never just behave, he began to whistle an off-key tune just to see what would happen.

"You're the best," he groaned. Normally he'd want to pull himself to his feet and at least join her in the kitchen or the living room. It was a testament to his headache that he stayed where he was, yawning as he reached for Macey's hand. She probably had a point about his age, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Wasn't being a demigod supposed to make him sturdier? "Saving my life yet again." Brent kissed her knuckles. "Don't take too long, please."

"Well, being sixteen might also have something to do with that." Macey joked, scrunching her nose in a smile before kissing his shoulder. "I'm making coffee and I stopped at the bakery for muffins, if you want some." After a weekend of commotion and sequins and loud children it felt really nice to be back in her own bed and curled up next to her favorite person. But she forced herself to sit up, "You don't even have to get up."

Malia placed her one free hand on Jesse's collarbone while he kissed her, and left it there when he lifted his head. She raised one eyebrow at his question. "Nooo," she assured him, smiling, "I only wanted to see you." Thankfully the bookstore was empty besides the two of them. Malia knew it wouldn't last forever, so she indulged while she could and returned his kiss with one of her own, on his mouth. Her fingers pinched the fabric of his shirt when she looked back up at him and smiled again. "Has it been this exciting all morning?" she asked, a hint of a tease in her voice.

The benefit of running a bookstore in a town where everyone knows everyone was that, when no one was around to watch the store for him, Jesse still felt comfortable enough to simply leave the door unlocked for the five minutes it took to grab a coffee from down the street. Of anyone he knew who was prone to thievery, books were ranked at the bottom of the list of things they would be interested in.

Finding the door cracked on his return, Jesse was ready to issue his apologies to whoever had come by while he was gone– just to come face to face with his girlfriend, a drink in each of her hands. "Oh, dear," he vocalized with a sigh, a smile lightening his expression as he set his own coffee down on the counter next to the spare so he could touch his hands to Malia's hips and lean down to press a kiss to her cheek. "Hi, love. I don't know how we didn't see each other. Are you just coming to say hi?" He paused, eyebrows pulling together after a second. "I didn't forget something, did I?"

When she stepped into the bookstore, two lattes in hand, Jesse was not behind the register like she expected. Malia paused, but quickly recovered and looked through the aisles, searching for her boyfriend getting lost in a book he was meant to be restocking. But he wasn't there, either. Maybe he caught up in something, too busy to talk to her? Malia brushed that thought aside as it came to her; Jesse always had time for her. Still, the coffee she had for him felt a little heavy in her hand. Malia was just about to walk into the back room like she belonged there, but paused again when something caught her eye. Entering the store, Jesse... a coffee in his hand. Malia half-laughed, half-sighed as she walked over to him. "We must have just missed each other," she said, placing his now-extra drink on the counter.

"The last time I saw you, you were passed out face-down on my couch." Patrick did not look the least bit amused as he pushed open the bathroom door. He'd barely been awake two minutes and this fool was starting up again, and Patrick didn't have the patience for a conversation before coffee. "Don't blame me that you dozed off after you puked your gu— dude!" He had fully opened the door to find Drew, in the tub as promised, and also completely naked. Patrick spun around. "What the fuck are you doing?" Before his question was answered, he stormed to his living room, where all of Drew's clothes were strewn along the floor like a haphazard trail. Of course, his act of kindness last night, saving a lost soul, had been extended to a stripper. Patrick stormed back to the bathroom and glared at the wall as he approached the tub. It was just a step until he could reach the shower curtain; he pulled it across, blocking Drew from sight. "Stay there. I have to fuckin' piss and I'm not waiting for you to see straight."

@hvlfwygod "—where the fuck?" Everything was so bright. Cracking his eyes open (just barely) provided a very limited view of his surroundings, but he needed a minute before he would be able to open them fully. The beams of light streaming in from a small (unfamiliar) window were too-bright as it was, and if the headache pounding behind said eyes was any indication, he'd had a Night. Drew groaned and pushed himself up into a semi-upright position. His fingers scrabbled for a moment on the slick (unfamiliar) porcelain of an (equally unfamiliar) tub. "Huh," Drew muttered, his voice sounding raw to his oversensitive ears. Sitting up turned out to be a spectacularly terrible idea; the world tilted around him. His stomach threatened to empty itself but unless the wolf had grabbed a snack or someone had force-fed him something, Drew knew he hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon.

Since he was no stranger to waking up in bathtubs (and since his headache was drumming through his skull like a beat he'd laid down on one of his band's— ex-band's?— tracks), Drew was in no rush to drag himself out of it. His eyes were still slits, taking in details of the room slowly as he lifted one hand to scrub what felt like long-since-dried drool off his cheek. The shift normally made him felt like he'd been chewed up and spat back out but this time was different. Maybe he'd finally overdone it or maybe—Nah. What the fuck do I have to worry about? Drew lazily scratched an itch on his neck, then another on his chest and blinked, realizing it was bare— of clothes, not ink. A puzzled expression flitted across his face before the creak of a (unfamiliar) floorboard jolted him into alertness. He schooled his expression into something closer to amused disinterest and called out, "Is it every day you let randos crash in your fucking tub?"

He noticed her perfume first: suddenly his dream smelled like musk and plums, and then he was back in the bed with the room much brighter than it was before. Macey, beside him and smiling. It was definitely the perfect sight to wake up to. But his hangover was threatening to end his life, so all he managed as a first response was an inelegant, "Mmghh." He half-laughed, half groaned, and rubbed his brow. Damn, he drank way too much. "I felt better the morning after I fought a Hydra," he grumbled.

The apartment was quiet when Macey finally came back in the morning. And with the way Ziggy was bolting around for attention, she doubted it was because Brent was already up and going. "Shh, yes, yes, I know, we'll go out soon, I promise." She shushed the dog after giving him a million hugs and kisses. Sure enough Brent was still passed out in bed, looking somewhat like a sickly, Victorian child. Holding in a giggle, Macey turned around and went to turn the coffee on. Because of course Brent used a regular coffee pot like an old man, and of course that meant Macey had learned how to use it too. Out of the sheer love in her heart, she might add. Tiptoeing around the dog, she climbed back onto the bed and curled up next to him. A moment later he started to stir, and Macey waited until she saw one, tired, little eye crack open to look at her before grinning like a fool, "Seems like the party was fun."

Ziggy’s head lifted as soon as Brent stumbled into the bedroom. He was curled in Macey’s empty spot and looked expectantly for her. But Brent was alone, and when he flopped on his bed the dog dropped his nose onto his paws again and sighed. “Hello to you, too,” Brent mumbled. He pulled Ziggy to him, the alcohol making his limbs a little clumsy. He was still drunk enough that just laying there was an experience, the room tilting and swaying ever so gently while he dozed on top of the covers. “Tomorrow morning,” he mumbled into Ziggy’s head. Brent drifted off for a few minutes, the memories of the night floating through his mind. Then Ziggy wriggled out of his arms and Brent forced himself to stand and strip. Everything else, though, he left for a Brent who was more sober. He crawled under the covers and passed out while Ziggy sprawled over the empty half of the bed.

When he returned to the land of the living, his body felt extra heavy, the mattress beneath him a soft, warm, black hole. His head was full of cotton, too. And when he lifted it, his neck was stiff and protested carrying the weight of his skull. Brent sighed and sank back down. It occurred to him a few minutes later to check the time, maybe Ziggy needed to go for a walk. But before he could think about it more, he was asleep again.

christmas fighting shopping | dex & ben

date: late november 2023 summary: the boys go christmas shopping and...discuss...the upcoming awards show dex has to attend

"Oh... wow," Ben laughed. Of course he knew his bribe would work, but Dex had played cool and he thought... maybe... but clearly his boyfriend had his priorities straight. "Watch out, one more and then I'll be in the lead," Ben warned teasingly. Now the grin went wide without hesitation, and a new sensation washed over his body, a mix of excitement and warm affection. They finished the game quickly after that, the thrill of competition no longer driving them forward but the promise of what would happen later. Ben won, of course. He wrapped his arms around Dex's neck once they stepped out into the night air afterwards. "Considering how the night started, I think you won no matter what," he said with a soft, genuine smile. Then he raised a brow and smirked. "But... my actual victory is nice, too."

Ben doing his best to be confident about this was so adorably endearing, and more than enough proof that he was serious. But Dex didn't drop his poker face just yet. "Hm." He nodded, then stepped back to let Ben take his shot. When it was his turn again, Dex strolled up to the ball and aimed as usual. He took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders...and made the most pathetic, half-assed shot he possibly could. "Aw, shucks," Dex sighed dramatically, watching the ball roll miserably down the green. He turned back to Ben with a look in his eyes that would've turned anyone's knees into jelly, intentions incredibly clear. But, he simply smiled, "How unfortunate."

"I'm not," Ben replied and tried not to break out into a slightly embarrassed grin. His lips twitched, his expression twisting a little to hold in his laugh. Why did he get so close to Dex for this? Ben could feel from the heat that his face was turning pink. But he spoke steadily enough, putting his hands on his hips. "Not that I won't beat you either way. But... it's up to you."

Dex stared at Ben for a moment, processing. Why would such a simple sentence require being almost whispered? What had they even talked abou—Oh. A flush began to creep along his cheeks at the thought. But, Dex squinted at Ben all the same, confidently skeptical as he looked him up and down. “You’re bluffing.”

"Hmmmm." Ben bit on this inside of his cheek as he went over his odds again. He still could win the regular, slightly more dignified way. Then he decided fuck it, he hadn't had a chance to be this ridiculous when he was younger, so he'd do it now. "Okay, well, I think that you're going to let me win, actually," Ben said, moving close to Dex once again. He actually glanced around to see if anyone was close by, then spoke so only his boyfriend could hear. "And when we get home, I'll do... what we talked about that one time," Ben looked at Dex intently, hoping he got the implication.

"An off switch?" Dex said innocently, batting his eyelashes, "For just being myself?" He aimed and took his first shot. Not amazing, but not terrible. "I love stupid thoughts," He grinned, stepping to the side and making a grand sweeping motion for Ben to take his shot, "Tell me."

For how much he genuinely, truly, did not care about winning, part of Ben really wanted to, all the same. He narrowed his eyes at Dex, hooking one finger around one of the belt loops in his jeans. "Just take your shot, cowboy." He kept Dex close, though, as an idea passed through his mind. Ben considered it for a beat longer before he sighed, smiled, and shook his head. "I can't believe you have me this worked up while we're playing mini-golf. Do you have an off-switch?" He started chuckling, slowly backing off. "I just had the stupidest thought, but I think I know how to win."

"It's called manifesting. baby." Dex tsked as Ben's ball landed. It seemed that the tides had indeed changed. While Ben had started out strong, the rest of the course had Dex slowly catching up. Which he pointed out continuously. And gleefully. Dex's heart was full and warm and vibrating with excitement. He loved teasing Ben and being teased in return. It was like pouring gas on a fire, equal parts competitive banter and sassy flirting as they continued to circle each other and bounce from hole to hole.

By the time they got to the 16th they had not only tied, but Dex had just barely squeaked ahead. Not enough to guarantee a victory, but enough for him to haughtily swing his club around as he strolled up to the tee. "I've decided what my prize for winning is gonna be." Dex grinned, "But I—" He drawled, laying on the accent thick, "A good, respectful, Southern boy—can't be repeatin' that kind of thing in public." He winked, "So you'll find out later."

Ben rolled his eyes. "You're very confident for someone who's losing," he replied back to Dex, pointing at the tally sheet in his hand. Then he lined up his next shot, squinting in focus. This course had a frustrating incline near the end, and Ben's ball missed the shortcut. It bounced around a bit and landed at the base of the hill. Ben made an annoyed sound but walked ahead like he totally meant to do that.

How could it be so simultaneously flirtatious and infuriating having Ben competitively tease him like this? He wanted to win just as much as he wanted to push Ben up against a wall and kiss him to shut him up. He was all riled up, and worse, Ben knew exactly what he was doing in doing so. "I can give you lots of things, baby," Dex drawled out, his words seductive but his stance casual and focused as he studied the next hole. "But, it still won't matter when I win."

As they walked, Jaime's voice became a soothing hum in his ear. Not that he wasn't paying attention, but it was a nice accompaniment to the forest around them. Eventually, the conversation turned back to him, though, an expectant silence following the question. "Mmm, yeah," he said, after a moment of contemplation. Patrick had kept his stories fairly vague so far, general summaries of a few weeks that he could recite easily. But it was Jaime, who he still sort of owed something to. "I... I did a lot, actually. Not really demigod related. But... yeah. Things happened." He glanced toward his friend. "Old friends of mine... we did a lot together. Kind of like going back to high school without the annoying parts."

"It was," Jaime agreed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He dropped his hands, shrugging one shoulder. "I think the carnival was your sister's doing. At least, I heard about it from her and Phoebe. And the shipwreck was quest-related," he nodded in confirmation. "A different quest than the one I meant. And A different shipwreck, actually." Jaime laughed, taking a moment to figure out how to explain. "I think you were here when that first quest returned? With a stranger in tow; he'd been shipwrecked. The details are lost on me. But the shipwreck I meant was very recently and it brought another curious stranger with it." He hopped onto a fallen log, holding his arms out for balance as he walked across it. "My brother, Xav— it was his quest that I meant. He left not too long ago. Less of a quest, more of an errand, if I understand correctly." Shrugging once more, Jaime watched Patrick pick his way over the path. "Was your summer as eventful?"

"Yeah, it's disgusting," Patrick said with a slight grin. He too felt a strange tug in his chest, a feeling that something was different now, but not in a bad way. His eyes scanned the room again and he nodded, gratefully slipping into a more comfortable subject. "Maybe there's a god out there trying to teach a lesson in fuckin'... small business." He scoffed. "Wouldn't be surprised. It's a good space, though. I can see it, a bunch of flowers there, a counter here..." He pointed to spots around them as he talked. "You could knock this down and make a big ass wall of windows. Damn, I guess I joined your design and project team."

Rae could tell Patrick had reached his capacity for now, so she didn't push any further questions, despite having many. "Ugh," She made a retching noise, "Look at us, growing and shit. Gross." But, she appreciated the easy willingness to help, and it all left a sickly, sweet, swelling feeling inside of her. Something that'd be too much to process if she tried to think about it too long. "But yes pleaseeee," She batted her eyelashes and motioned to the room, "I picked this place for the location, but damn, it needs some help. Which makes no sense because this town is like, five years old."

Despite Dex’s warning, Ben did get cocky. Had he always been so good at the game? They made it just under halfway through before they got a little close to another group and Ben decided to hang back. Mostly, to gloat. Their scores were nearly identical, but it didn’t matter because Ben felt like he unlocked some random, useless skill. He was smiling wide and had been teasing Dex nonstop, giving a running commentary on his boyfriend’s mini golf skills. They were fine, until he did better than Ben. But right now, Ben was in the lead by two. “Have you thought about what you’re getting me?” he asked instead of taking aim at the next course. Ben raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Dex stood there, slightly flabbergasted, mouth open, hands on his hips. Maybe he'd misjudged Ben's abilities a bit too soon. "Lucky first try." He scoffed (lovingly) and bumped Ben out of the way with his hip. Lining up, Dex stepped his stance a bit wider, shook out his hips and arms, and slowly, dramatically, purposefully bent over to place his ball down. The flirty, tight jeans were a good choice today. If he couldn't win, he could at least be a very sexy loser. Focusing his aim, Dex swung and—well, didn't get a hole in one, but it was easy enough he did it in two swings instead. He pointed a warning end of his club at Ben as they moved onto the next hole, "Don't be gettin' all cocky, that was just me warming up."

The smile on his face was another in a list of little victories Ben kept collecting that night. Turning his day around, surprising him, bringing out that fire in his eyes. Ben loved it. He turned toward their first hole, a simple line with a few dips and hills. Ben had done this exact course more times than he could count, and knew exactly where to aim, and got... a hole in one. Not the most impressive but still good for gloating. Ben smiled triumphantly at Dex as he spun around. "What did I say?"

Dex didn't know too much about astrology, but he did know it was at least cliché as hell for a competition to rile him up this easily. He was grinningly so stupidly, like a kid at recess who just got challenged to a race across the playground. "Very cute," Dex chided in response, stepping back to happily let Ben go first. "We'll see about that."