#Bobby shaking the Detective in the middle of the night with a smirk and a ''hey... you wanna... you wanna order cheese steaks?'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

galpalaven · 3 years

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liberosis

liberosis - the desire to care less about things

The Wayhaven Chronicles | F!Detective x Nate | 6.6k words | hurt/comfort | CW: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

a love to last eternities: You Are Here! | 2 | 3

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Kira’s had about enough of tonight, and that’s before Bobby shows his stupid face outside of her apartment in the middle of the fucking night.

It takes everything in her to keep her voice low as she sighs roughly, groaning, as she says, “I’m really not in the mood for this right now.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Kira,” he says, smiling that same sickly-sweet smile he’d had since she met him at freshman orientation 10 years ago. “You don’t even know why I’m here. It might just put you in the right mood.”

Her mind flashes back to finals week, junior year, right before he was supposed to be leaving for study abroad. The smell of cheap beer and cologne drifts through the hallway, conjured by the memory. Her stomach turns, and she just shakes her head, rubbing roughly at her face in response.

Holds her hands there. Counts backwards from five. Drops her hands back to her sides with a slap as they fall heavily against her thighs.

“Is this urgent? Or can it wait until I’m back at work and we can have a professional conversation about it?”

“Oh, it’s urgent.” He runs his gaze up and down the length of her, and she can feel it like a spark of uncomfortable static even in the dark hallway. “At least by Wayhaven standards.”

There are many things she wants to say, but she settles on a flat, “Really.”

His gaze finally snaps back to her eyes. “Oh, yeah. It’s been all over town already.”

That sparks her interest enough that she relaxes a little—does he know something more about the outbreak?

“Everyone has heard about your little foray into the carnival with… one of those agents.” His mood shifts, and the first spark of fear crackles to life in her chest. He grapples with his facade for a moment before he settles back into his casual slump, though he still looks sour. “The grapevine is rife with it.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Kira hisses, jamming her key into the lock, yanking the door open and stepping instead.

Bobby’s foot jams into the gap before she can close it behind her.

She glares, yanking the door back open a little in annoyance. “What is it that you want me to say, Marks?”

He laughs, reaching out to catch the door and push it open a little more, slipping a little further into her apartment. “Ohh, I’m Marks now, am I? Have I struck a nerve?”

Kira sets her jaw as she fixes her gaze steadfastly on his eyes. She will not let him see her crack—not after everything else going on right now.

“What. Do. You. Want.”

“I just want to talk, Kira,” he says pleadingly. “Come on. We used to be friends. Good friends. Let’s talk—let’s hang out. Off the record. Just you and me.”

Kira blinks.

“What on Earth makes you think I would want to hang out with you right now?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the door frame like they’re not currently grappling over control of the door. His smile is easy, meant to be charming, but all it does is make her head hurt.

“I think you remember how much fun we had together—and I think you’re in desperate need of a little relaxation in good company.”

She squints at him, opening the door fully just to have it out of his hands. She leans on it as she asks, “As if my date tonight was not enough relaxation in good company?”

Bobby shrugs, taking her opening of the door as an invitation as he breezes into her apartment like he owns the place. He shoves his hands into his pockets, taking in the living room and all its cozy, secondhand decor.

“Well, he’s not here, so it couldn’t have been that good, right?” He turns to smirk at her over his shoulder. “Whenever we hung out, we used to hang out even after the day’s activities ended.”

Kira rolls her eyes, shutting the door behind them both and trying not to think of how ominous the clunk of the door sounds right now. She goes to flick on a few lights, not bothering with the overhead because it gives her a headache even on her best days, and right now she’s exhausted.

Still, she doesn’t move away from the entranceway, anxious to get whatever is about to happen over with. She watches Bobby inspect her apartment for another moment, crossing her arms and trying not to kick herself for still being a pushover after all these years.

“How… quaint,” he says at last.

She leans against the wall by the door, unimpressed. “Thanks.”

“You misunderstand,” he coos, and alarm bells immediately start going off in her head as he saunters closer. “You always misunderstand me. I think it’s nice that you’re home enough to focus on comfort here.”

He stops just a breadth away, their chests nearly touching, and Kira visibly shrinks backwards as she mumbles, “Thanks.”

She knows he can see her cheeks going red with—what is this feeling? Humiliation?—because he smiles in a way that she knows all too well, looking almost like he’s about to reach for her.

Kira takes a full step back—straight into another wall.

Bobby stalks forward, looming over her now with her back against the wall. He props one arm up beside her head, grinning down at her, and all Kira can think about besides the familiar, nauseating, overwhelming stench of cologne is how very small she actually is compared to most men.

And then he does exactly what she’d feared he was going to do.

He grabs her by the coat collar and yanks her forward into a kiss.

Anxiety spikes so sharply within her that she feels it as a physical pain in her head, and it takes all of her strength to fight back against the natural response her body seems to have in these situations—freeze, don’t make it worse, if we just lie still it won’t be so bad—and braces her hands against his chest, shoving as hard as she can.

“Get off—what the fuck—”

“Still playing hard to get, Lin?” Bobby laughs, and her face is so hot now she’s dizzy with it. He doesn’t even move to give her space to breathe. “Come on. Relax. Let’s have a little fun like we used to.”

Kira makes a show of wiping her mouth, moving away from the wall so that he doesn’t have her cornered anymore. She doesn’t want him to see the tears burning at her eyes now, even as her vision blurs, so she stays facing away from him, scrubbing at her face with the sleeves of her cheeks. She feels so utterly helpless, and she doesn’t understand why—she’s a cop, for God's sake, she’s trained for this.

There’s just something about this—about him—

“Kira—”

He’s still laughing.

“Get out.”

Bobby chuckles, reaching for her shoulder. “What?”

“I said, get out! ” she snaps, shoving him away and making for the door. When she reaches it, she swings it open with a bang , glaring at him as she holds it open. “Get. Out.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of a little intimacy.”

“Bobby, I swear to fuck, I will call the cops. Get out of my fucking house.”

“Kira—”

“OUT!”

He rolls his eyes but, before she can start losing her shit for real, he throws his hands up in surrender and sees himself out. He starts to say something once he’s on the other side of the threshold, but she doesn’t care to listen, slamming the door as hard as she can in his face.

The pictures she has hung on the wall beside the door rattle with the force of it.

“Real mature,” she hears him grumble on the other side of the door. She waits, listening, until he sighs and she hears his footsteps disappear down the hall.

And then she collapses.

Kira’s back hits the door a little harder than she would have liked as she sucks in a ragged breath, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling the first tears fall, rolling in fat clumps down her cheeks and dropping heavily to the rug below.

“...shit.”

The curse leaves her lips in a hissing rush of air as she brings one hand up to cover her eyes. Her hands tremble as she struggles to lock the deadbolt before she slides down the door, slipping to the floor where she stays, bracing her elbows on bent knees as she buries her face in her hands. Shivers wash over her in waves, from the top of her scalp all the way down to her toes where they’re curled in her boots. Memories flash through her mind, unbidden—the smell of cigarette smoke and cologne, too hot hands under her blouse, humid breath on her neck, the crash of the lamp she’d knocked over in her haste to get away—

“Fuck,” she hisses, pulling at her hair, trying to force the memory away. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Her hands move before she realizes what she’s doing, pulling her phone from her coat pocket and scrolling, looking for someone specific…

The phone starts to ring, and she presses the top of it to her forehead, breath already building up to hyperventilation. It rings several times, and with each ring she comes a little closer to regaining her senses. What is she doing? They’re just going to—

The voicemail picks up, and she panics, stammering as she struggles to see well enough to end the call. She coughs on a sob as she hits the end button, and she curses again at the knowledge that that is going to be what Nate hears if he ever gets to his voicemail.

“Hey, what the fuck—who are you? How did you—AGH! ”

There’s a loud thump in the hallway that makes Kira’s stomach drop. She scrubs anxiously at the tears still flowing freely down her cheeks as she pushes herself back to her feet, fumbling with the deadbolt for a moment before she manages to open the door and peer out into the darkened hallway.

For a moment, all she can see is the shape of someone standing in the hallway. There’s a second where she thinks she’s looking at Bobby, and she almost calls out to him to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing—when she hears a groan coming from the floor of the hallway.

Through the little bit of light flooding out of her apartment door, she realizes that she can see the prone figure of Bobby lying on the ground. What little she can see of his skin is covered in that same blistering smear of blue and white, the figure who’d attacked him standing over him menacingly. They meet her eyes and neither of them move.

Shit.

The anxiety already pumping through her blood like white hot iron does nothing to make her escape smooth or quick, as she hurries drag Bobby bodily out of the middle of the hallway and into the safety of her apartment. Her mind screams at her to just leave him, especially as the stranger advances, but the detective part of her mind (quiet as she is right now) won’t let her just leave him.

Kira half kicks him the rest of the way into her apartment, hurrying to close the door behind her—but she’s too late.

The stranger catches the door before she can close it, and she stumbles backwards into the long table by the entryway, knocking the plant that usually sits on it off of the table and onto the floor. She continues to retreat as the glass of the big living room window begins to ripple like water, and more figures step through the glass, stepping onto the window seat as they enter.

Shit.

There’s a brief moment where she gets the chance to look a little more closely, and she realizes that they look exactly like the man in the mirror—paper white skin, dark eyes with a single circle of gold set on a black sclera. Unable to do anything else, she backs towards the kitchen, raising her hands in surrender and hating herself for how much she’s shaking.

“Please,” she rasps, and another tear slips down her cheeks. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I don’t want to fight you.”

The woman who had attacked Bobby eyes her companions, and then tilts her head thoughtfully. “You are… reasonable.”

Kira smiles hopefully, though she can feel how weak it is. “We don’t have to hurt each other. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The woman sneers, and Kira’s stomach drops. “We do not want,” she growls. “We do as told.”

Her stance tenses and Kira chokes on the urge to sob. Can she not catch a break? Just this once? What did she do to deserve this?

“Please, please,” she gasps, stumbling backward more. “I am not a threat to you. We don’t have to do this.”

Kira’s just darted behind her kitchen counter when a loud thud from the windows distracts her—a new figure has arrived. This one isn’t a stranger like the others. She recognizes him immediately.

The supernatural from the House of Mirrors.

Great.

She watches his hawk-like eyes take in her apartment, a strange sort of curiosity gleaming there, before his gaze finally lands on her where she is cowering behind her kitchen counter. He smirks as she grips onto the end of the countertop a little harder, until her knuckles start to turn white.

“You,” she sighs, wishing she could just lie down right here on the counter. “Why am I not surprised?”

He makes a noise that might have been the beginning of a laugh. “I see my messengers have done their job well.”

Kira laughs humorlessly, groaning as she rubs a hand over her face. “If you wanted to threaten me, you picked a great time to do it.”

When she looks back up at him, he looks confused, and a little bit curious as to what she means by that. She’s not about to explain, lest they decide to finish Bobby off before they go—as much as she dislikes him, she doesn’t want him dead, and with the whole Judgment thing that went on in the House of Mirrors…

Bobby stands even less of a chance if they really knew what he’d just done—or what he’d done to her before.

He’s just collateral right now, and he probably has a better chance at living through this if he stays that way.

In the middle of whatever this standoff is, Kira’s phone flares to life in her pocket, and she can feel her blood draining from her face as she meets the strange man’s eyes, horror sinking deep into her belly. His nostrils flare, and he turns back to his followers, mumbling something in a language that she can’t quite pick out but almost recognizes that sends them all heading back to the window.

She lets them go, watching them recede into the glass as her phone rings shrilly in her pocket. Before he can leave, the man in the mirror turns to look back at her, formal as ever.

“Accept the courtesy of our warning. We will not interfere in your affairs. Do not interfere in ours.”

And then he’s gone, and she’s left staring at the pathetic image of herself half hiding behind her kitchen counter in the window.

She almost wants to laugh, once it sinks in that she’s alone once again. Is that what they call not interfering? For all they knew, Bobby was her boyfriend or something. How is this not interfering in her affairs?

It makes her head throb as her eyes drift back over to Bobby where he’s laying halfway over the threshold of her apartment. With a quiet sigh, she wanders over to Bobby and finishes dragging him into the apartment, glancing up and down the hallway just to make sure no one else is out there before she shuts the door behind her.

Bobby’s breath is coming fast and hard, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain of his new skin condition. Some sick, twisted part of her doesn’t even want to call anyone just yet—he deserves this, at least a little—but she knows she can’t just leave him here. The hospital isn’t equipped for it, and having Bobby expire on her apartment floor surely won’t be good for… anything really.

Her phone rings again, more insistent this time somehow, and she raises it to her ear numbly. As she moves, all she can think is that her hands are still shaking.

“...Hello?”

“Kira!” Nate sounds like he’s out of breath. She can hear something rustling in the background. “Finally. Kira, are you alright? What’s wrong? You sounded...”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. Her eyes are stuck on Bobby, still lying on the floor. Another few tears drip down her cheeks.

“Nate—” her voice cracks, “—I need help.”

“Anything.” There’s no hesitation at all—none.

“Can you come over?” Her lip wobbles, threatening her composure. “Please?”

“Absolutely. Are you safe until I get there?”

Her eyes sting. She sniffles, leaning back against the wall. “Y-Yeah.”

“I will be but moments. Don’t move.”

Click.

The line goes dead.

Kira sits in one of her barstools by the kitchen counter and tries to calm her nerves before everyone else shows up.

She’s successfully managed, at least, to stop crying by the time her apartment door opens again and a familiar figure bursts through the door. His eyes land on the body on the ground first, and she watches Nate’s face pale before he realizes that it’s not her—and then he looks up, and his eyes find hers. She hasn’t moved from her spot on the barstool, and offers him half of a weak wave. She’s gone from being overly anxious to being downright numb now, though there’s still the dull ache in her bones that promises an even worse anxiety attack later tonight.

He crosses to her in two strides, closing the door behind him as he moves to cup her cheeks in his hands, thumbs stroking against the soft skin there. Warmth floods through her at the touch, putting a crack in the wall she’d put up in the few minutes it took him to race across town. She closes her eyes, unable to bear the concern in those lovely brown eyes of his as she clutches at his wrists, bowing her head until she bumps her forehead against his sternum.

“...what happened?”

She shrugs, inhaling the scent of him. The tension in her muscles ease with the smell of his cologne.

Safe...

“Supernatural from the carnival showed up,” is all she mumbles after a minute.

Nate tenses against her. His arms move from her hands to her back, wrapping his arms around her. “What did he want?”

“Told me to leave them alone.”

“And… what happened with…?” She can feel him turn to look back at Bobby on the floor.

Kira shrugs again, eyes burning. “Collateral, I guess?”

Nate doesn’t say anything to that, arms tightening around her when a few tears slip out and soak into his t-shirt. She wishes they could stay like that forever, but unfortunately there is a situation afoot, and Bobby is still withering away on her rug. When he groans again, she sighs and pulls away—though, only just—to look at him.

“We should get him to the facility,” she says flatly.

“Right…” Nate clears his throat. “I’ll carry him out.”

Kira can’t really remember what happened throughout the meeting they had about this whole thing. She is present enough to answer questions and pretend to be okay, but the second her mother tries to comfort her, something inside her snaps. Part of her is glad that her mother is finally—finally—here for her, but where was she the first time this happened? Where was she when she was 19 years old, sobbing in the bathroom of a stranger’s house, trying desperately to get a hold of her mother because she just wanted to go home and no one answered her?

Where was she and why wasn’t Kira ever good enough to keep her attention?

The only twinge of… something Kira feels is when her mother sneers at the sight of Bobby, as if she does have some recollection of who he was and what he did, asking what he was doing there.

There’s some more chatter about the ambush, but no one seems to notice how off Kira is—or maybe they write it off as her being tired—but by the time Bobby has been dealt with and her mother disappears again, the sky is already pale with the grey light of dawn, and Kira sighs heavily.

She’s so fucking tired.

She’s just standing there, staring out the window at the morning light, when she feels Nate come up behind her—and she knows it’s him because he slides his hand up her back, lightly rubbing circles in between her shoulder blades. It nearly makes her moan, leaning back into him and closing her eyes.

“Shall I take you home?” he asks. She can feel the rumble of his words in his chest.

“Please,” comes out as a sigh. “I’m so tired. I just want to go home.”

Kira can feel him laugh and, for the first time all night, she smiles, opening her eyes to look up at him.

“Let’s go, then.”

Kira is not surprised that Nate doesn’t drive, she realizes as they ride back to her place in the back of an unmarked Agency vehicle. Of all the things he cannot, for some reason, grasp about technology, it’s not surprising that cars would be on that list. Hell, she doesn’t even really like driving either, so even beyond that she can’t blame him for not learning.

Plus, as she buries her face in his leather jacket, sliding her hand into his with a sigh, she can’t help but be glad that they can have this moment to be together. The smell of whatever gentle cologne he wears and the worn leather of his jacket mingles into a heady aroma that has the deep-seated tension in her body melting away. It’s a short ride from the facility to her apartment—from anywhere in Wayhaven to her apartment, actually—but she’s pretty sure she actually falls asleep for part of it, because it seems like she blinks and suddenly Nate is thanking the driver and climbing out of the car.

Walking up the stairs to her apartment is a challenge that she hadn’t expected, though Nate keeps one gentle, steadying hand on her back as he walks her to her door.

When they reach her door, she goes to unlock it, exhaustion a heavy ache under her skin. All she can think about right now is changing into pajamas and collapsing into bed for the next 12 hours.

And then Nate speaks up again.

“Are you all right?” he asks, watching her unlock the door. “You’re incredibly quiet.”

“Hmm?” Kira can only find the coherence to hum for a moment, before she processes his question. “Oh. I’m fine. Just tired, I think. Very tired.”

He doesn’t seem to believe her, and though she feels like she’s about to start going cross-eyed, she can see his gaze darting around her face in concern. “Are you worried about your reporter friend?”

Who?

...oh.

Right. Bobby.

The memory of the incident comes rushing back at the mention of Bobby, and Kira can’t quite hold back the shuddering breath she takes, reaching up to rub at her jaw. Part of her wants to tell him everything—to cry in his arms until the stabbing pain in her chest has finally subsided back to a dull ache. The rest of her realizes that it’s not his problem and, after what he said to Adam, it will probably never be his problem.

“...Kira?”

She blinks, glancing up at him and silently cursing herself when a tear drips down her cheek. Realization seems to wash over his face, but she shakes her head, rubbing at her tired eyes with a hiss as she says, “No. It’s not—no. I couldn’t care less about Bobby.”

Nate brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Things didn’t end well with you two?”

Kira laughs—a short, hysterical burst of sound as she presses her hand to her eyes. “Ah, god—no. No, they fucking didn’t. He’s—he’s not my friend. He’s—” her voice cracks, something squeezes in her chest, her lip starts to tremble.

“Friends don’t do what he did,” she says after a moment. “Friends don’t do that.”

Half of a sob escapes her mouth before she slaps the hand that she’d had over her eyes over her lips. She looks up at Nate, horrified, to find him looking… angry.

Angry and concerned.

His hand drops from where he’d been touching her hair and returns to his side, though he doesn’t move away. She hates herself for even saying that—hates herself even more as the floodgates seem to open, and she fumbles with the door rather than look at him anymore, stumbling into her apartment with a shuddering gasp.

“Kira, do you want me to leave?”

That stops her in her tracks, though she’s sure whatever look on her face is borderline terrified as she turns to look at him, raking both of her hands through her hair.

It strikes her how he’s still standing in the hallway, rather than having followed her in. She knows that vampires don’t need permission to enter anyone’s house, but it’s such a stark difference compared to the others she’s dealt with tonight. Nate’s frame nearly fills her doorway, but everything about him radiates warmth, and she wants nothing more than for him to come in and never leave.

She shakes her head, and what breath she can catch through the hyperventilation she can feel building she uses to gasp, “Stay. Please. I don’t—I can’t—”

Kira breaks off in a sob, bending in two with the force of it, and Nate apparently needs no more permission than that. She barely hears the sound of the door closing behind him before his arms are around her—strong and warm and familiar—and they’re stumbling to the floor in her entryway as her legs give out entirely. Her fingers clutch desperately at the back of his shirt under his jacket, muffling her aching cries in his chest as 10 years of repressed trauma and another 28 years of loneliness all come pouring out of her. There are a few tense minutes where all she can feel is the pain in her chest and her head, all she can hear is her own voice and the rushing of her own pulse in her ears—but Nate doesn’t let go.

He doesn’t let go.

All he does is position himself more comfortably against the wall after a minute, so that he’s supported as he almost cradles her in his arms, holding her tight like he’s trying to hold all the pieces of her together. She’s gross and his shirt is getting damp with tears and snot, but when her panic attack starts to taper off into more hyperventilation than sobbing, she can hear him speaking to her, soft and warm.

You’re okay. It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m here. I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

It makes her already quick breaths start to come even faster, making her head spin and black bursts pop across her vision. He starts to speak a little louder, then, though his voice is still level and calm.

“Kira. You’re hyperventilating, love, please—slow down. It’s okay. Breathe with me, come on. In and out. Nice and slow, just like this. Everything is alright. Breathe.”

It takes her a few minutes to manage it, forehead pressed to his sternum as she struggles to turn her breathing back into something close to normal. She can feel his heart beating, steady and true, beneath is ribcage. Every swell of his chest as he takes a full, deep breath she does her best to match, until she can finally take a slow, shaky breath that doesn’t immediately dissolve into more hysterics.

As her breathing evens out and the exhaustion takes the place of the hysteria, she becomes aware of how they’re sitting. He’s propped up against the wall and she’s curled up against him, knees tucked up against his side as she has her head buried in the front of his t-shirt. Opening her eyes a bit reveals that the sun is fully up now, crisp spring sunlight flooding in through the big window in the living room. Another beat, and Nate’s arms loosen a little, and one of his hands starts to make absent figures into her back.

Kira sighs, closing her eyes again as a few more tears leak into his shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

The first words she’s spoken in a good long while and it comes out as barely more than a rasp. Her mind wanders to the fact that this isn’t the first time he’s seen her cry, and she wonders how he can even stand to be here now. She’s supposed to be a rock—sturdy and unyielding, but also something for others to lean on. This? This is…

This is just pathetic.

“Don’t be sorry.” His voice is quiet, a comforting rumble in his chest. “You shouldn’t apologize for having feelings—especially about… that.”

Kira readjusts her position a bit, settling her cheek more comfortably under his chin. Nate tilts his head and presses a kiss to the top of her hair.

“It’s not your problem,” she sighs, staring blankly at the wall across the room. “I keep unloading on you. I shouldn’t do that.”

“I want to be there for you,” he replies, so simply and plainly that something in her stomach flips. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here right now. You’re always taking on everyone else’s problems—you deserve someone to help you with yours.”

She snorts, though it’s more just a puff of air out of her nose. “It’s been a long time since I let myself lean on anyone.”

“I’m honored.” She can hear the grin in his voice. “I want to be that person for you. I want… I want you to trust me.”

She laughs a little, burying her face in his chest to help ease the throbbing headache behind her eyes. “I do trust you. We wouldn’t be sitting here like this if I didn’t.”

He kisses the top of her head again instead of saying anything in response, and she wonders how she even got here. How could a vampire—a literal vampire—who is also a very large man make her feel so safe? So protected? So…

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to keep you safe from him,” he says, interrupting her thoughts. “I should have been there. That’s the second time I’ve—”

“—Stop that.”

He tenses against her and she shifts so that she can smooth her hand over his chest. His heart races under her touch.

“Stop blaming yourself for everything that happens to me. It’s not your fault.”

Nate doesn’t say anything, but she can feel the urge to argue clawing at his throat. She shakes her head, sighing.

Stubborn.

“It wasn’t rape,” she says flatly a beat later. He coughs a little, shocked at her bluntness, but she just tightens her grip on him, fixing her gaze on a spot on the wall. “He just kissed me. It just reminded me—when we were in college, he and I almost dated. One time we got drunk and he almost…”

She trails off, somehow managing not to relive that moment again. “I got away from him but my clothes were already half off and I was messed up because—because I’d told him that I didn’t want to have sex with him repeatedly and he still tried it. He still got me drunk enough that I couldn’t drive and tried to talk me into it. And when I kept telling him that I didn’t want to, he thought he could change my mind for me.”

Her words sit heavily between them for long minute. She’s tired now, and so any ability to be nervous for his reaction has faded away with the anxiety.

“Thank you for telling me,” Nate settles on at last. “I’m so sorry.”

“Bobby has a problem taking no for an answer,” she says bluntly. “That’s why we’re not friends anymore.”

Nate nods. “That’s a good reason.”

They sit in companionable silence for a bit after that, and despite how uncomfortable the floor is, Kira’s exhaustion is starting to get the best of her—especially after that little episode she just had. Sleep begins to tug at her, here on the hardwood floor, and she’s ready to slip into dreamland with no thought to the consequence sleeping there would have on her aging body.

She stirs only when Nate moves, shifting until he can scoop her up bridal style and rising to his feet like she weighs the same as the average house cat.

Kira laughs, a little delirious and a lot delighted, as he carries her off towards her bedroom, hiding her smile in the soft skin on his neck. His scruff scratches at her nose, and it makes her giggle again, this time making him laugh, too. Rather than dump her on her bed, he bends when he reaches it, depositing her with the utmost gentleness on the still-made mattress. She lets her hands drag against his neck as he pulls away, wishing she could just pull him down for a kiss even though she’s still scared he’ll say no.

And then he’s standing up, sighing and looking over at the window like he’s nervous.

Nate clears his throat and says, “I should get going, then. Let you get some sleep.”

Her heart sinks.

“...would you stay?” she asks, focusing on sloppily kicking her shoes off to avoid looking him in the eye. “If I asked you to, would you stay?”

“I—of course. Of course, I would. Are you asking?”

She snorts a little, pushing herself up and going to find some pajamas. She’s so tired that she doesn’t think much of it as she starts to strip her clothes off to change, though she smirks when she catches a glimpse of him in the mirror whirling on the spot until he’s facing the wall, spluttering like mad.

“Do you think Adam would mind? I know we’re probably supposed to start researching today, but… I need to rest and I just…” she trails off as she pulls her pajamas on—just a t-shirt and some pants. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

He risks a glance at her when he hears her climbing into the bed, sighing heavily as she sinks into her mattress. She watches him watch her, sees the gears turning even through the sleep pulling at her eyelids. She can also still see the giant wet blotch on the front of his shirt from where he’s standing in the sunlight streaming in from her window.

“...could you at least get the curtains, then? I’ll set an alarm but I’m going to get my full 7 hours whether Adam likes it or not.”

Nate snorts, but does as she asks, pulling the curtains closed—and she groans as darkness falls over her room, soothing the throbbing headache that had taken up residence in her sinuses.

Too much crying, she thinks, letting out a breath that hitches in the middle, almost like a reminder.

“Should I—Should I take off my coat?” he asks, and she frowns, blinking blearily at him.

“Are you staying?”

“I… would like to, yes.”

Kira chuckles. “Then, yes. Get comfortable. Take off those layers and your shirt that I ruined—you can hang it up to dry if you want—and then you can come lay with me for a while. Until I fall asleep, at least. Then I don’t care what you do.”

He chuckles at that and she watches, half awake and half gone, as he sheds a few layers, draping them over her desk chair. Once he’s down to just his white undershirt and jeans, he unfastens his belt and slips off his shoes. She doesn’t have the wits to admire seeing him so stripped down, but she smiles regardless as he moves to lay on the other side of the bed.

...on top of the blankets.

Kira laughs at him, tossing her head back and slapping a hand to her forehead.

“Nate, oh my god, you poor sweet thing,” she chortles, snorting a little. “This isn’t a Jane Austen novel. Get under the blankets.”

He laughs a little at that, but doesn’t argue, and after a moment of adjusting, he’s in bed beside her, settling in under the blankets and sighing softly. She turns to face him, smiling at the sight of him in her bed. He’s such pretty sight—all warm brown skin and even warmer brown eyes.

Handsome.

There are many things she would like to do with him alone in her room like this, but unfortunately the only thing she will be doing for the foreseeable future will be sleeping. She turns back on her other side for comfort, wiggling until her back is fit up against his chest and he follows suit, curling around her until they’re both comfortable. His arm around her waist, one of his legs between hers, his face buried in her shoulder—she sighs as he kisses gently at the exposed skin there, nuzzling contentedly.

“Goodnight, Kira.”

“Night, Nate.”

When she wakes, it’s to an empty bed.

She lies still for a moment, partially adjusting to the rested feeling in her body, and partially reasoning with herself why he didn’t stay. She knows that Adam must have called him in—and she had told him she didn’t care what he did once she was asleep—but it still hurts, just a little bit, that she didn’t get to wake up in his arms.

As she pushes herself up into a sitting position, she notices something sitting on her desk.

The little stuffed rabbit she’d won Nate at the carnival is sat next to her desktop monitor, holding a little folded up piece of paper.

She smiles to herself as she pads over to it, footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath her feet. Kira picks up the rabbit and hugs him to her chest as she unfolds the note, burying her face in the fur and inhaling the lingering scent of Nate’s cologne.

Kira,

I’m so sorry to leave before you wake—Adam was insistent that I get back to the facility. I won’t tell him what happened, exactly, but I will make sure he lets you get as much sleep as you need. Call when you’re ready and you can come join us for the supernatural research you wanted to do.

Yours,

Nate

Kira smiles at the note, pressing a kiss to the rabbit’s little head. She’s glad that he wanted to stay, and she really appreciates that he got Adam to let her sleep. As she goes to get ready for the day, she makes sure to bring the rabbit with her.

He should go back to where he belongs, after all.

#detective x n #detective x nate #nathaniel sewell #n x detective #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #nate sewell #twc fanfiction #kira x nate #the wayhaven chronicles fanfiction #kira yi #my ocs #my writing

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thecluelessredhead · 3 years

Text

Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Legacy

Summary: Sunset Curve, the greatest new band of the ‘90s, was supposed to die. One fatal decision to change it all. One fatal decision was never made.

Put simply it’s an AU in which Luke, Alex, and Reggie never died.

Word Count: 2912

Chapter 1 of ???

Additional notes at the bottom.

Chapter One

“Okay, well, I’m thinking we fuel up before the show,” the lead singer was saying. “I’m thinking street dogs.” He looked at each of his bandmates in turn, and waited eagerly for their approval. The boys didn’t respond immediately, for their rhythm guitarist had caused a distraction by leaping off the stage and walking suavely up to a woman wiping down the table, who had been cheering moments earlier. “Hey, Bobby, where you going?” The other three band members exchanged a knowing glance, but gladly followed their friend down the stage stairs and to where the girl stood, a slight smirk on her face.

“I’m good,” the one walking away called back to the singer. Then, he turned to face the woman, and plastered a coy smile. “Vegetarian,” he said to her, placing his hands on the table she was wiping down. “I could never hurt an animal.”

The woman didn’t respond directly to him, but instead addressed his approaching bandmates. “You guys were really good,’ she gushed.

“Thank you.” Luke accepted the compliment with a shy but proud grin.

“I see a lot of bands,” the girl went on. “Been in a couple myself. I was really feeling it.” Something in her face told the boys that she didn’t say these things to just anyone.

“Yeah, that’s what we do this for,” the lead singer said, stepping into his confidence. “I’m Luke, by the way.” Luke was the shortest of the group, and his face seemed to hold a constant expression of flirtation beneath his chestnut hair, which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Hi, I’m Reggie.” It was the bass player who had spoken, and he was beaming. He had deep brown hair, a slender build, and a look of blissful oblivion. He put in his two cents quickly, and got out of the way.

“Alex,” was all the drummer said, for he wasn’t interested in the girl. He was the biggest of the group and his blond hair was hidden under a black backwards hat. When he had ceased speaking, he put his hands back into his pockets and resumed slouching next to Reggie.

“Bobby,” the self pronounced vegetarian announced, trying to draw attention back to himself. He had a deep, soothing voice, and hair parted perfectly down the middle. He may have been counted out of Sunset Curve’s value, but that would’ve been erroneous.

“Nice meeting you guys,” the waitress answered, and though her voice was kind, a hint of mockery and sarcasm could’ve been detected. If so, it only made the boys like her more. “I’m Rose.”

“Oh, uh, here’s our demo.” Reggie offered her a black CD, with a practiced smirk. “And a T-shirt, size beautiful.” Rose accepted both items with a simper that matched Reggie’s. Alex merely groaned at Reggie’s smarmy efforts.

Rose ignored him as she held the shirt up to her torso and examined it. It was a plain white garment, with the words Sunset Curve written in black across the front. “Thanks.” She beamed, and this time it was genuine. “I’ll make sure not to wipe the tables down with this one,” she joked, throwing the shirt over her shoulder.

“Oh, good call! Whenever they get wet, they just kinda… fall apart in your hands,” Alex informed her, making an awkward visual with his fingers. He trailed off, clearly feeling awkward about his addition to the conversation, though no one really noticed his discomfort. His hands returned to his pockets.

On that note, Bobby was eager to get rid of them. “Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?”

Hot dogs was something that the band members had yet to agree to. Luke turned and looked expectantly at his friends, who seemed to think.

Reggie was the one who spoke up. “Actually, my older sister Carla is in town for the show. I was going to go meet her.” Luke nodded, and turned to face Alex for his opinion.

Alex looked uncomfortable now that the spotlight was on him. He took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together nervously. “I was actually kinda hoping to get a little time to breathe before the show.” He didn’t like admitting this to anyone, especially not someone he had just met. His hands quickly returned to his pockets and he looked down at the ground.

“Oh, cool,” Luke said, turning in a quarter circle so that he faced Rose again, even though he didn’t plan on speaking to her again that night. Now that all three bandmates had abandoned him, what did that leave for him to do? Luke, now slightly upset at being left alone just before a life changing night, pushed Bobby aside and leaned toward Rose. “He had a hamburger for lunch.” Alex, Reggie, and Rose giggled as Luke walked away, basking in the light of a successful joke. Bobby groaned at being out done by Luke once again.

Luke, Alex, and Reggie all left together through a side door, leaving Bobby to pick up the pieces of his failed flirting practices.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Luke exclaimed happily as they strolled into the alley.

“The smell of Sunset Boulevard?” Alex asked, wrinkling his nose, and looked around, as if searching for the source of the constant odour.

Luke stopped walking to look into Alex’s green eyes. “No.” He laughed and gave Alex a playful shove. “It’s what that girl said in there tonight.” Luke kicked up puddles and spoke as if the event hadn’t just happened. “About our music, all right?” He turned to look at Alex again. “It’s like an energy. It connects us with people. They can feel us when we play.” He stopped walking again as the group reached the end of the alley. He pulled his bandmates into his arms. “I want that connection with everybody.”

“Then, we’re going to need more T-shirts,” Reggie said, taking the serious edge off of Luke's monologue. Luke laughed and looked back and forth between Alex and Reggie.

It came to a point where the three had to go their separate ways, and they said their goodbyes, despite the fact that what Luke had said held true and they would always be connected to one another.

Luke walked alone down the sidewalk, past crowds already lining up to come to see the show. While he walked, he thought. At first, his thoughts were directed toward Reggie, and he wondered how someone who had such a difficult time at home could be so happy and think so simply all the time. He wondered if Alex still thought about Luke in the way Luke thought about Alex. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that particular inquiry. Luke pondered about what Bobby thought about, for he was the one person Luke could never truly get to. Never really read.

Luke forced himself to push these thoughts aside, and think only of the show. This was to be the night of his life, and he decided to cherish his last few moments before his world was wound upside down. So, he dragged his mind to nothingness, and continued on his search for something to do.

Alex was having just as hard a time as Luke. He had yet to calm his nerves, and was getting discouraged, which always led nowhere good. The night was cooling off quickly and darkening at twice that rate. Alex stood on a street corner waiting as patiently as he could for the light to turn. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms and returned them to his pockets in a vain attempt to warm up. Traffic was bad. Cars roared across the boulevard, headlights blaring, and for one wild moment, Alex feared one would veer off the road and hit him. He would soon discover that that was the very least of his worries.

Alex felt ridiculous, being off on his own when the band’s biggest performance was rearing its head like a serpent before him. He sucked in a deep breath, and the air seemed to harden in his lungs.. He looked once more at the traffic as he turned to head back to the Orpheum, and wallow.

His final glance was one that saved a life.

A figure was flying too fast into the street on a skateboard. The being pushed off the asphalt with his right foot, and a grin was visible on his face as he pushed the limits of death. Cars blew their horns,and slammed on the brakes. Alex’s fears were almost realized as vehicles swerved to avoid the daredevil. The man giggled and turned on his skateboard to cross the boulevard again. Alex’s heart stopped in his chest, but the cars didn’t.

In one moment of complete insanity, the drummer lunged took two long strides and lunged across the street, snatching the skater in a flying tackle. The two of them hit the pavement and rolled, knocking people out of the way. Alex felt his back hit a wall, the boy still wrapped in his arms, and he opened his eyes. They were met by a mop of glossy, luxurious, brown hair. Alex didn’t have long to look however, because as soon as they stopped rolling, the figure fought to free himself from Alex’s clutches. Alex relinquished his hold wordlessly and allowed the man to wriggle away. The boy leapt to his feet and grabbed his skateboard from where it lay on the sidewalk a few feet away to examine it.

“Aww, you dinged my board!” he whined, without looking up at Alex.

Alex stood up, suddenly very heated. “Dinged your board? Dude, I saved your life!” The boy looked up at him, as if realizing for the first time that Alex had rescued him. Upon meeting his eyes, his head cocked to one side, and he studied Alex’s face carefully. The boy took in Alex’s handsome features, and made an unconscious decision to give the guy a chance. He smirked slightly at the scrunch in Alex’s eyebrows, and hitched up his skateboard in his left hand.

He reached up with his other hand to pull off his helmet while he spoke. “Yeah. yeah, thanks. I guess it’s about time that I learned-” He stopped speaked, and bent his neck to shake out his hair. He whipped his head back up, and Alex’s eyes caught each one of that man’s features as if his movements were in slow motion. “-skating in traffic is bad,” he finished, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ears. Alex made a frustrated mental note that the boy had the handsomest of ears. The boy’s brown eyes were scrutinizing him, and he realized his mouth was hanging open. The boy seemed to take his silence and flustered face to mean he was upset, and pursed his lips. “Hey,” he said gently. “Thanks.” Even if the words were weak, the sentiment was solid and powerful.

“Yeah.” Alex nodded, regaining his composure. “It was nothing.” He stuck out his hand.

“Sure, it was,” the boy said, lazily accepting Alex’s honesty, taking hand and shaking it.

“I’m, uh, Alex.” He grinned.

“Cool, I’m Willie.”

Willie. The name stuck in Alex’s brain, and it was as if at that moment, the six letters were being engraved in his head, so that he would never forget. They had stopped shaking hands, but had yet to let go. Alex’s hand was the first to fall.

“So, do you often make stupid choices?” Alex asked. Now that his initial shock of seeing the boy had gone, his miffed attitude was returning.

“Yes,” Willie answered, defensively. “Do you often save lives?”

“No,” Alex replied, melting again under the boy’s warm gaze.

“Who are you?” Willie looked around unexpectedly, as if searching for some mysterious answer. “Some sort of hero?”

Alex blushed hard, blood rushing to his cheeks and drawing his eyes toward his nose. Willie noticed, and reddened as well. “No. No, not a hero. Just a drummer.”

“Ahhh!” Willie smiled, and began to walk away, expecting Alex to follow. Alex, however, remained still, his head turned slightly as he watched Willie go, his feet seemingly glued to the concrete. It didn’t take Willie much time to realize his new acquaintance wasn’t with him, and he turned back. “You coming or what?”

Alex was certain that the blood rising in his face was becoming permanent. “Um, no. No, I don’t think I will.” He shuffled his feet nervously, and Willie attentive caught onto that fidget.

“Why not?” he asked, taking two uncommonly long strides back to Alex. He was close, and looked up into the taller boy’s large green eyes, with a curiosity and concern that was not to be expected from someone as reckless as him.

“I have a gig tonight. Yeah, my, uh, my band’s playing the Orpheum. Well it’s not my band. I’m in the band, but uh-“ Alex cut himself off. Willie was grinning.

“The Orpheum, huh?” He nodded slowly, as if coming up with a clever scheme. “So, why aren’t you there?”

Alex chewed on the inside of his cheek and thought about how to answer that question. He decided on the truth, in the hopes that Willie would be appreciative of it either way. “I wanted some air. This is kind of a big night for us. Like, life changing.”

Willie’s eyes crinkled like he was pondering these words. He seemed to understand what Alex was saying, despite never being in such a situation himself. “Can I stop by? Cheer you on?” he inquired, nudging Alex gently with his elbow, and biting his lip in a suppressed smile, which only made Alex blush again.

“You don’t have a ticket,” he pointed out.

Willie shrugged, as if the rules were just a formality. “Please. I’ll find a way in.”

Alex opened his mouth to protest, but Willie cut him off by holding up a single finger.

“I’ll see you there.” He grinned, slipped on his helmet, dropped his skateboard, and skated away, leaving Alex both nervous and flustered.

Reggie was standing patiently outside of the airport, waiting for Carla. Standing is a bit of a stretch. Reggie seemed to live in a constant state of movement, and right now, he was walking dreamily in circles and kicking up puddles just for the heck of it. He was beginning to get a few funny looks, being a seventeen year old boy, standing outside an airport, splashing through rainwater, but Reggie didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t like airport security, because taking off his shoes made him uncomfortable, and he always got lost. So, both he and Carla decided it was best for him to remain outside while she got all of her affairs in order.

“Reggie,” a voice asked, and he knew it was her. He whirled around, throwing water in a perfect ring around his legs. Reggie didn’t say anything as he approached his sister, only spread his arms and went into her welcoming ones. She then stepped away from him and held him at an arm's distance to look at him. She looked proud of him.

“Hey!” Reggie exclaimed finally. “How was your flight?”

Carla shrugged, mostly wanted to hear more from Reggie. “Fine.”

Reggie stooped down, and eagerly took one of her bags from the ground where she had set them to embrace him. “And how’s college?” he pressed.

“Oh, you know,” Carla said evasively. Reggie laughed and shook his head, and Carla had to give in to his boyish excitement. His joy was contagious. “Okay, well my classes are great,” she began as they started to walk. “I got this great internship working for one of the most incredible professors there. She thinks like me, and understands the changes we need to be making to the modern education system.” Reggie waited eagerly for more. “And I’ve been hanging out with this one girl, who I swear is the most brilliant and funny human being I’ve ever met. And you know how I feel about hyperboles.”

“They're useless. Say what you mean,” Reggie repeated what his sister had been drilling into his head since he had learned the meaning of the word.

“Exactly.” Carla beamed at him.

“Can I meet her?” Reggie pleaded. Carla elbowed him in the kidney, and he wasn’t entirely sure why, so he dropped the subject.

“No, tell me about you! How’s the band? How are the guys?” she asked.

“They’re great. Can’t wait to see you again. You’re coming to the show right?”

They had arrived at the Peters’ house.

“Of course!” Carla promised. Reggie grinned goofily. Neither went inside the house, and Carla asked the question both had been dancing around for the entirety of their short walk. “How are Mom and Dad?”

Reggie’s grin faded. “The same. Most nights, I don’t come home. But they don’t notice.”

“I’m sorry I left you with that,” Carla said, and she looked like she meant it.

Reggie avoided her gaze. “It’s okay. You had a chance to get out. And I’ve got the band.”

Carla nodded. “You should’ve had me.”

“Shall we go in?” Reggie asked, determined to change the subject.

“If we must,” Carla answered, throwing her head back in a regal way, linking arms with her brother and turning to face the house, which from the outside look peaceful.

Together, feeding off each other’s bravery, the pair approached the front door.

Notes: Thanks for making it this far. I’m not on Ao3 or any of that, so this is what you get. Next chapter will definitely be longer, I just really wanted to get this first one out in the open, so bear with me and be kind. Also, I felt like this was very heavy on Willex, but I hope you enjoyed the theory that I creaed with them. Also, sorry the first part is like, just the show. The title and summary make me cringe, too, feel free to disregard that. Reblogs are appreciated, and hope you enjoyed!

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