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offbrandmercyplates · 3 years

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An OBMP Holiday Fanfic Special

Me: I should do a thing, get back in the writing spirit and all that.

Time of Year: *Is a holiday*

Me: I think I know what I’m going to do today.

So, yep! It’s a OBMP fanfic holiday special! WHOOOP! This thing actually went through a few different versions before I finally settled on one. There were some weird versions, which reminds me: what would happen if you tried to bake cookies without proper ingredients? One of the versions involved trying to make chocolate chip cookies with powdered milk, egg protein, and no baking soda. I have no idea what would happen if you actually tried that. I can only assume the worst. Also, there was a salt rock. And an elaborate traipsing through the halls and down the stairs. Not the best setup.

Anyway, this one should be much better! Please enjoy!

…

Messy Gyftmas!

Emmibee’s cozy cocoon of warmth and hazy sleep was viciously torn open by a muffled buzzing sound. She quickly scrambled to shut off the old alarm clock she had buried in clothes and towels on her side table. She flopped back onto the bed. Just a few more seconds… a few more seconds…

…Kind of weird that Dr. Gaster hadn’t come into her bedroom to see what the alarm was about.

…Dr. Gaster?

Emmi snapped upright. That’s right; Dr. Gaster was taking his once-a-week night off and actually sleeping! (It was very, very slow progress in getting him to sleep more properly, but progress all the same.) She quickly threw off the covers and slipped on the fuzzy pink socks she had managed to find at the Snowdin Shop recently. She tiptoed out of her bed room and past Gaster’s room.

She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a gravelly snore that made her freeze. She turned towards the couch and spotted the skeleton doctor sprawled across the couch, glasses askew and a bunch of papers over his torso and lap. It seemed that he had fallen asleep while working instead of sleeping in his room like they agreed.

She shook her head. That stubborn old man…

Well, he was actually asleep, so that was good enough for today.

Emmi stepped into the kitchen and reached into the fridge. She had been meaning to ask why exactly Dr. Gaster kept so many bags of Popato Chisps in the fridge, of all places, but they hid Emmi’s personal purchases more than adequately, so it didn’t matter right now.

She retrieved the frozen waffles, bagels, and the two different kinds of spreads, and set them on the countertop. Two waffles were popped into the toaster, a few bagels were cut in half put in the oven to warm, and the two spreads— plain and strawberry flavored cream cheese— were opened and set out to soften a bit.

Emmi grinned and clapped her hands together quietly. A nice, warm, sort of-nutritious breakfast would hopefully give the doctor a reason to have more regular sleep schedule.

She pulled a large plate out of the cupboard and began to tastefully arrange the food (ha, puns). It was a shame she couldn’t find any maple syrup to put on the waffles, but maybe Gaster would appreciate being able to hold them in his hands and bite them like cookies. Once the plate was arranged to her taste (somebody stop her; she’s having a pun-derful morning!), she picked it up and began to carry it over to the coffee table by the couch.

At least, that’s what she intended to do, before a crunchy *thump* sounded from outside the house, followed by a strange, almost annoyed-sounding lowing. Emmi set the plate down and peeked out the window.

The snow wasn’t glittering with the warm, orange lights of the buildings in town, which meant that by all standards, it was still nighttime. Still, Emmi’s eyes quickly adjusted to see a strange, four-legged creature stumbling around in front of the house. Perhaps a fellow monster needed help?

She stuffed her snow boots on over her socks and grabbed her heavy coat. She opened the door to the house and stepped into the cold.

It was snowing, as it did every night in Snowdin. Emmi realized that the monster wasn’t stumbling; rather, it seemed to be bucking like a horse, a donkey, or a deer. The crunchy *thump* from earlier was likely caused by them tripping and smacking into a snowbank outside the house. They lowed again, more loudly, and shook their antlers. The movements were accompanied by tinkling bells, rustling paper, and other sounds.

A Gyftrot, Emmi realized with a quiet gasp. She had not yet met this particular monster, but the distressed noises it made were probably because of the decorations adorning it.“Hello?” Emmi called. Gyftrot snapped their attention to her, and she flinched.

Even when playing Undertale in her old life, Gyftrot was a funny looking creature. In person, though, they were almost terrifying. Their big, gaping eyes seemed both sunken and laser focused, and their sideways mouth steamed in angry sounding puffs and clicking teeth. They towered over her, their antlers almost doubling their height. They growled and backed away, dragging their hooves in the snow.

“W-wait!” She called. “I promise I’m not a child! I’m a perfectly grown-up adult!”

Gyftrot paused, then tilted their head in a way that seemed to say, “Oh, are you, now?”

“I am!” Emmi insisted. “Look, I’m not wearing a striped shirt.” She opened her coat enough to show off her pastel-colored nightgown, then closed it quickly. She was not built for cold weather.

Gyftrot rolled their eyes and huffed out another cloud of steam. “Okay, fine,” they seemed to be saying. “Now what?”

“You look like you could use some help. Would it be okay if I undecorated you? I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Gyftrot squinted at her for a good few seconds before folding their legs and resting in the snow, their antlers more at Emmi’s level.

“Thank you,” Emmi bowed politely and approached them. The tinkling bell sounds came from some thin plastic balls smacking together, looped over the prongs of Gyftrot’s antlers. The rustling paper was, in actuality, several strands of threadbare garland strands, wrapped around their neck and, again, their antlers. Following these were some of the strangest items Emmi could imagine: multiple stockings, tiny walking canes, boxes of raisins, a few car fresheners, and for some reason, a small, very confused dog. Emmi could have sworn the dog gave her a knowing wink before bounding into the forrest.

She looked over her handiwork and nodded. “Everything looks good.”

Gyftrot rose back to their hooves, and Emmi gave them some space. “Thank you, Miss,” they said in a deep voice. “I was asleep on the edge of the forest for the night, and when I awoke, I was covered in all manner of trinkets and nonsense. No doubt the work of some young punks. Oh, and pardon me for thinking you one of those children. You have a youthful demeanor about you, and you are very short.”

“Hey!” Emmi laughed with mock indignation. Gyftrot snorted a few times, a mischievous gleam in their eyes. Then their gaze dropped, and they went quiet. “Something wrong?” Emmi asked.

“It’s a bit silly, but… after all of that, I’m a bit hungry.”

Emmi thought for a second. “Well, I was making some breakfast for a friend when I heard you out here… Would you like me to bring you some?”

Gyftrot’s ears flattened a bit. “Well, I’d hate to take the meal you made for your friend…”

“No worries! I can make more. Wait right here; I’ll bring you a plate.” Before they could protest, Emmi sped-walked into the house, grabbed the plate of food, and brought it outside. “Here we are! Waffles and bagels. Do you like cream cheese—?”

As soon as Gyftrot spotted the plate, their eyes grew as big as saucers and they stuck their snout into the food. They were an enthusiastic and sloppy eater, but Emmi was too distracted by watching the way their jaws worked to notice the bits of cream cheese and crumbs spilling onto the front of her coat.

They grinned at her when they finished; a grin that, without context, would have seemed almost sinister. Emmi knew it was a smile of satisfaction. “Thank you again, Miss. Perhaps we’ll meet again, at a better time of the day. Good night.” Gyftrot trotted out of sight.

Emmi watched them go. Her socks were starting to become soaked through her boots, but the warmth in her SOUL distracted her from the cold.

The snow began to glitter orange in certain spots around her. “Emmibee?” She looked up to see a tired Gaster standing in the still open doorway of the house. Oops. “Why is the door open at this hour? You hate being cold.”

He stepped into the snow, not bothered by the weather, and stood over Emmi, looking her up and down with an analytical curiosity. She turned to face him, grinning just a little deliriously. Maybe she should have gone to bed earlier instead of reading all night…

“…What are you wearing?” Dr. Gaster asked.

She looked down at herself, seeing the crumbs and cream cheese smears from Gyftrot’s early breakfast, as well as a few of the decorations she had removed from Gyftrot’s person. Somehow, the garland had wrapped around her shoulders, a tiny walking cane hung around each of her ears like strange headphones, and a few stockings hung from the buttons on her coat. She blinked for a moment. Then, she smiled up at her housemate. “I’m the messiest Gyftmas tree. Hohoho, heeheehee.”

Gaster squinted at her, his bone brow furrowed as he tried to comprehend what she just said. “…You’re a very strange woman,” he finally stated.

“Actually, if you recall, I said I’m—”

“Yes, I heard you the first time. You are the messiest Gyftmas tree.”

“You have to say ‘hohoho, heeheehee’ after that part.”

“No.”

“Phooey.”

“Will you explain why you’re outside at this hour now?”

“After we go inside. I’ll make more breakfast.”

In the time it took Emmibee to remake Gaster��s breakfast plate and tell her story, she was barely standing on her feet. Before she could fall over, Gaster guided her to his spot on the couch, removed her coat, boots, and decorations, and tossed his lab coat over her sleeping form, since it was the closest thing to a blanket within arm’s reach.

He found himself glancing at her repeatedly and he ate the breakfast she made. Her curly brown hair was frizzy and tangled from the snowy winds, and her round little face was pink from the warmth of the house. It filled him with… nondescript contentment. It definitely didn’t make him feel nice. Most certainly not. Definitely not.

…So what other word could he use to explain these feelings?

…

A strange and messy Gyftmas, but satisfying all the same, I hope.

Gyftrot showing was one of the first things that came to mind for this story. Who could be more perfect for a holiday special? And, one of my favorite parts: it shows off Emmi’s integrity. Even a scary looking fellow like Gyftrot deserves a good breakfast and not being covered in weird decorations. (Seriously, though; look at Gyftrot’s battle sprite and tell me that wouldn’t be a little spooky in real life.)

There were some little tidbits in some of the earlier drafts that didn’t make it into the final story, like Emmibee spending her evenings in bed reading by candlelight, the exact spots that don’t squeak on the stairs, and little things like that. Now that I think about it, I don’t know if flashlights would be prevalent in the Underground, or if they’re a more limited resource. It can’t be that easy to find fresh batteries in the dump heap, but maybe the Underground is able to make batteries with the materials it has. For some reason, my mind was in a kind of archaic rut, so I think I imagined the Underground having more limited resources than it probably does; hence the earlier draft with the powdered milk cookies.

Gaster: What is this feeling? It couldn’t be… the warm fuzzies!? No! I’m too sophisticated and cool to have the warm fuzzies!

It has been said before, by many different sources, and it shall be said again: Emmibee is a smol.

Also, the “messiest Gyftmas tree” is a reference to the song “The Happiest Christmas Tree.” It’s… interesting.

Okay, I think that covers all the extra bits. With Ms. Emmibee’s permission, I’ll be posting this to my fanfiction and AO3 accounts at a later date. I hope everyone had a happy holiday! Let’s hope next year’s just a little bit better. Until then!

~~~

THE WARM FUZZIES!!

Apologies for posting this so late, but I truly truly appreciate and adore this fic. Gyftrot is one of the most interesting monsters, I think, and Emmi’s interaction with it is SO pure????? This is wonderful and I love it and THANK YOU!!!!

Please post it to FF and AO3 at your leisure!!

#OBMPfanfic #yours the author #submission #i usually try to comment more on these but im so exhausted #i read it when it was first submitted and it really cheered me up at a tumultuous time #so thank you for that

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copias-thrall · 4 years

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Growing Pains

Hey all! Here’s the next part of this Mary Goore fic I’ve apparently decided to flesh out.

When we last saw our intrepid heroes, they had just resolved their miscommunication re: what they were to each other. Alack the day, there are still some bumps ahead, so buckle up! Angst ahead …

(Part 1)

It starts with the “Manager’s Special” chicken. It’s one of those “budget weeks”—working remotely has done wonders for your mental health, but it comes at the price of consistent work—so you’re really only at the bargain market to pick up essentials.

The chicken though … it is discounted, and you don’t have to get fancy bagels (the bagged ones will do), so you add the thighs to your basket. You could even bake them tonight—and wouldn’t that be a nice surprise for Mary. You did promise you’d make an effort. You even pick up a can of store-brand asparagus.

Cooking it isn’t even hard—you’re a pro at rice now, and all you have to do to the asparagus is put a little breading on it and stick it in at the end of the chicken; the chicken just needs to be rotated every 20 minutes, and you get the added bonus of the oven heating your small space.

It finishes way before Mary graces you with his presence—his timing and constancy are spotty at best. It’s funny how he seemed to always be around when he annoyed you, and now that you’ve embraced being his girlfriend, he always seems to be MIA.

You almost eat your portion—and a few weeks ago before Mary’s declaration, you would have without a thought—but in the end decide it’d probably be a nice gesture to eat with him. So, both plates go into the oven to keep warm.

It’s hard to keep track of Mary’s schedule because, well, he doesn’t really have one. He works nights, but … his hours aren’t consistent and he seems to often take more hours at the last minute. And if he’s cut early, he just slips in and sleeps on your couch. How you never noticed that before is a testament to his previous criticism of you, even if you had gotten in the habit of keeping a portion of dinner around just for him.

Apparently it’s one of those nights he started early and got cut early, because he’s sneaking into your place a little after midnight. (“How do you keep getting in here?” “Um, with your key.” “My key?” “Yeah. Your key. You know, the one you gave to me because you got tired of getting up to let me in??” “Oh yeah …”)

When he sees you burritoed on the couch watching TNG reruns, however, he abandons all semblance of stealth.

“Oh hey.”

“Hey.”

He drops your keys back into an open pouch of his tattered backpack.

“Why are you still up?”

“I thought I’d wait up for you.”

He toes off his boots before coming to sprawl on the couch.

“Ok. But why?”

You sit up. “Uh … to see you?”

“Well, I’m not going to be much company. I’m exhausted.” Even as he says it, he’s reclining and pressing his hands into his eye sockets. "I don’t know why you’re not asleep if you have the option to be.”

Snorting, you shrug off your blanket so you can get up. “Why are you here if you thought you wouldn’t see me?”

He looks at you sheepishly. “I thought you might have some food left.” When you roll your eyes at him, he says, “And to see your reenactment of a mole person in the morning. Frankly you’re adorable when your toddling around the place and banging into walls before your coffee. Comedic gold.”

You retrieve the plates of food from the oven—no longer hot, but still warm enough to be passable. You transport them to your coffee table, where you’d already left out utensils.

“I’m no longer sure you deserve this, but here,” you say as you set the plates down. And then you get to work on your chicken. Frankly, you’re starving—the last time you ate was around noon. You take the skin off and begin to pull the meat off in strips. You could use your knife and fork, but you’re at home and it’s just Mary.

You look over at him surreptitiously and find he’s just staring at you.

“What? Is this skeeving you out?”

He looks down at his plate and back to you, eyebrows furrowed.

“The fuck is this?”

“Um,” you say, not entirely sure how to answer the obvious. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he sputters gesturing at his plate.

You lick the grease off your fingers. “It’s chicken?”

“No, shit. I know it’s chicken.”

You give him a full body eyeroll. “Do you hate chicken this week or something?”

He makes a couple of aborted movements with his arms. “It’s this whole … this whole thing. You here waiting up for me, and now we’re eating this … this prepared dinner together.”

“You’re pissed I’m eating with you?” you saw slowly.

“Yes! You’re usually asleep this late, and what’s with this production of your leftovers?”

“They’re not leftovers! I made us dinner. I thought I’d eat it with you, jeez.”

What’s his deal?

“But we don’t eat dinner together! And you never make it for me!”

What the hell. Does he really think you just always make too much? Like on accident?

“Oh, so it’s only ok for you to eat my food when you think you’re stealing it from me? Is that your reasoning? Did it ever occur to you that I always have leftovers because I know you eat them, dickface?”

He agitatedly runs his fingers through his hair. “I mean, not stealing. I just thought you were ok with me eating your leftovers.”

“Because they’re for you!”

Mary huffs. “That’s not that point.”

“So then what is the point? What’s the fucking problem?

“You!”

Your mouth actually drops open.

“Me? Me?! I stay up so we can eat dinner together, and I’m the problem.”

Mary throws his hands up. “Yes.”

You just stare at him.

“I see,” you say, even though you really don’t, his words making you feeling small.

He puts his head in his hands and screams in frustration.

“Christ. Not you you. The way you’re acting. This whole … performance,” he says, sweeping his hands at the plates of food. “You’re not little Susie homemaker. I don’t come here so you can meet me at the door with a cocktail and have supper on the table or some shit.”

You’re having a flames on the side of my face moment. All you wanted to do was be nice to your supposed boyfriend. Whether the white hot spikes coursing through you are from anxiety, anger, or hurt, you can feel the burning behind your eyes—but damned if you’re going to let Mary see you cry. So you go on the offensive.

“For fuck’s sake, Mary! I’m your girlfriend. Is it so fucking unreasonable that I’d want to fucking see you? That I’d want to do something nice for you?”

He glares at you, “Yes!”

“Yes,” you repeat back deadpan.

Mary makes a sound of irritation. “ ‘Yes’, since you never have before.”

And boy does that feel like a slap in the face.

He goes on, as if he hasn’t just flamed you.

“I liked things how they were! I liked you the way you were. I don’t want you changing for me. If I wanted someone to fawn over me and be nice I’d be fucking groupies. I know you’re better than that. Better than whatever reductive bullshit you tried serving me up tonight.”

You can feel the embarrassed flush rise to your face. He doesn’t think you’re nice? He wants you to continue to treat him as a booty call? That’s the girlfriend he wants? You guess it makes sense. Of course some guy would find that the epitome of a good relationship. So, ok. If that’s what he wants.

“Fine,” you hiss as you grab up the plates. You walk over to your trashcan, and Mary flinches forward when you dump both contents into the opening. “There! Problem solved!”

You toss the plates into the sink, and they make such a loud clatter that you’re sure you might have broken something, but you don’t bother to check. Instead, you grab up the half-finished bag of sour cream & onion chips nestled on your counter and toss them at Mary. He catches them reflexively.

“That’s what you wanted, right? My leftovers that aren’t for you?” He’s looking at you with wide eyes, bag still clutched to him. “Well, enjoy. I’m going to go to sleep now, because apparently it’s past my bedtime.”

You storm off to your bathroom and slam the door. Immediately you turn on the faucet so Mary can’t hear you as you try to take deep, calming breaths. You fill up the sink with cold water and dunk your face in as long as you can.

Fine, whatever, you think as you perform your nightly ablutions. You were ok with how things were too. You can just pretend nothing’s changed. Before you knew gravity existed, you were never in danger of falling.

You’re half expecting Mary to be gone when you exit the bathroom, but you can still see the back of his head sticking up from the couch. You don’t pursue anything further, opting to just close yourself in your room for the night.

Before, you always found it silly that Mary never snuck in to join you, but tonight you’re glad that that’s apparently The Way Things Are, since a few tears manage to escape and wet your pillow.

He’s gone when you wander out the next morning (though you note he’s cleaned your dishes and taken out your trash).

A few days go by, and you don’t hear from Mary at all. Not like you’re surprised—you hardly know where the two of you stand, why should he? You find yourself staring at his text thread in your phone, but what would you even say? You’re not sorry and you’re not going to beg—and even “Let’s just forget about it, come by tonight” feels suspiciously like begging.

The whole incident seems unfair, in your opinion. He asked you to be his girlfriend. All you did was make him dinner, and isn’t that what people in a relationship do? Care for each other? What a fine trick he played on you. Making you think it was ok to care for him and then berating you for it.

It’s nearly a week later—when you feel like you’re 2/3 of the way through making peace with the Relationship That Never Was—when you get a text from Mary.

Mary [4:35pm]: Ok 2 cum ovr?

Your face heats up, and you’re not sure if you’re going to tell him to fuck off or to come over until you’ve actually sent your reply.

Me [5:03pm]: Up to you. Mary [5:03pm]: K

If he was trying to fuck with you with his response, he succeeded. You decide your new philosophy when it comes to Mary is just to act the way you would have prior to The Girlfriend Event. So, even though every minute that ticks by is slicing paper cuts into your soul, you do everything as you would have. You make too much dinner and set aside the excess; you binge a few episodes on Netflix as you eat; you FaceTime with a friend who wants your opinion on which new dress to buy; you box up the now-cool leftovers in some Tupperware and place them in your fridge; you fuck around on the internet.

At nearly 11pm you call it a night. You’re brushing your teeth when you hear your front door open. On any day Before™️, you would have kept going, so that’s what you do. You finish brushing your teeth; you swoosh mouthwash; you scrub your face; you brush out your hair.

When you leave the bathroom, you find Mary leaning against the back of your couch, hands in pockets.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you say.

You wait, but if you expected him to say more, you’re disappointed.

“Well,” you start, “it’s my bedtime, so ….” You jerk your head toward your bedroom.

“Yes, of course.” He doesn’t say any more, nor does he move.

“Yes.” When he still doesn’t speak, you say, “Well, sleep well when you do, then. Good night.”

“I will. I mean—you too.”

You don’t invite him into your bed, and he doesn’t follow you.

He’s still gone when you wake up, but there’s evidence he slept on the couch, and your leftovers container is sitting in the drying rack.

The next encounter isn’t any less awkward.

You’re on a conference call when you hear the lock turn in your door. You usually try to work from a coffee shop—get the stink blown off you, get your step in and all—but you hate taking calls out in the wild. When he sees you—and hears the chatter coming from your laptop—Mary freezes.

You gesture him in. “I’m on mute.”

“Sorry—I thought …”

“It’s fine.”

“Ok.”

He sits stiffly in the other corner of your couch as you occasionally chime in on the call. When you finally disconnect, he turns and says,

“I didn’t realize you were working.”

You squint at him. “I’m usually working.”

“You’re usually not here.”

And ok. He only came by because he thought you were gone. Totally cool.

“Ah,” is what you say.

“I can go … ?” he says, gesturing with his thumb toward the door.

You check in with Before You™️; she gives you a Gallic shrug, so you say, “I don’t care either way.” You go back to typing away as Mary continues to sit there stiffly. After a few minutes, you sigh.

“What did you come here for, Mary?” you ask, and then mutter under your breath, “Not for me, apparently.”

“I …” he starts, but doesn’t continue. After a few more beats, he says, “I’ll go.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I wasn’t kicking you out. I legitimately want to know what you’re in my apartment for, if not for me.”

He picks at his cuticles. “Sometimes I take a nap. Your place is … midway between practice and the bar. But you’re working. ”

You look over at him. Before You™️ is warring with Girlfriend You, but ultimately you decide that Before You™️ would have merely been irritated. So you’re convenient, so what?

“It’s fine,” you say as you stand up to stretch. “I should be working at my desk, anyway. It’s hard on my back being crunched over. Have at,” you say, indicating the couch. You pick up your laptop and move into your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

A few hours later you hear the beep of an alarm and then the sounds of Mary moving about before the click of your apartment door closing.

You don’t really get much more done the rest of that day.

Mary doesn’t stop randomly showing up at your place, and you don’t really dissuade him, but … to say things are strained is an understatement. You’re torn between having told Mary you’d try harder and your determination to be Before You™️. You realize it’s been awhile since you fucked him (your vibrator seems to live by your pillow these days), and you’re nothing if not fastidious. Before You™️ would be fucking Mary like crazy, so that’s what you’re gonna do.

The next time he comes over, you sidle up to him, hands running up and down his sides and face pressed into his chest.

“Um,” he says as he just stands there. “What’s happening right now.”

You sigh. “Christ, Mary. Are you ever going to fuck me again?”

You’re still pressed into him—hands roving—when he says, “I don’t think I want to right now” and then extracts himself from your grasp.

And oh.

Oh, ok.

Your eyes immediately fill with tears at the rejection, and you’re mortified. You pull away from him and turn your gaze to the floor too hide your reaction.

“Right. Ok. Well, I don’t think I want you here right now.”

“Sue …”

Head bowed, you turn away from him and open your front door.

“Please leave,” you say to the wall behind the door.

“You’re not being fair,” Mary growls.

Your head snaps back to him, even as the tears threaten to spill.

“Fuck you. I’m not going to spend another night dancing around you. It’s fucking exhausting. Either you want to be here, or you don’t. If you want to be here, then you have to be here with me. I’m not a fucking hostel.”

“So it’s an ultimatum, then? Fuck you or fuck off?”

The tears make their escape, despite you willing them to stay put. You angrily scrub your eyes with the back of your sleeve, embarrassed. You’re usually better at holding back.

“Are you fucking crying? Seriously?”

You decide that you absolutely don’t have to deal with this. It was a good run, a worthwhile experiment, but it’s run its course. There are lots of boys to fuck in the sea. Thank you, drive through.

The tears continue to leak from your eyes—no use hiding them now—as you resignedly bob your head at him.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” You walk past him straight into your bedroom, closing the door behind you. You curl into a ball in your bed, biting your pillow until your hear your front door slam shut. Finally free, you let loose your wails of frustration. Ugly, racking sobs that clog your nose until you blow free the snot with the edge of your fitted sheet.

When the door to your room suddenly opens, it startles you into an aborted hiccup. Mary stands in the doorway, eyes wet and looking pale.

“Please stop that,” he says quietly.

“Why are you still here?!” you blubber at him.

He shrugs.

“Fuck,” you spit out around your congestion. You turn away from him, still actively trying not to lose it again. “I thought you left.”

“I didn’t.”

You can’t decide if you’re thrilled he didn’t leave or if you’re livid you can’t have the privacy to feel all your ugly feelings.

All you say is, “I’m tired, Mary.”

“Ok,” is all he says in return.

You hear the door to your room click shut, but you also hear Mary moving around. You’re still leaking and softly keening, but even so, you feel the covers lift and Mary climbs into your bed behind you. He presses up behind you, bare-chested and in his boxers, and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Is this ok?” he asks. It is, but you burst into tears anyway. He stiffens, and you’re afraid he’s going to pull away, so you grab his hand and clutch it to you.

You decide fuck it—he’ll leave or he won’t—and continue to grip his hand as you sob into your pillow. He awkwardly makes shushing noises at you as he pets your hair. You cry yourself into an exhausted sleep, and when you wake up, Mary is gone. Again.

There’s a finality to it, so you fumble for your phone and groggily email your manager that you’re taking a sick day. You sleep until way past noon, and even then your eyes are still crusty and half swollen shut. You have to get up to pee anyway, so you manage to stumble out of your room and retrieve your ice mask from the freezer. It’s the kind that blankets half your face, so you affix it around your head as you crawl back into bed.

When you wake up again it’s dark, and your eye mask is warm and sloshy. You can hear someone moving about in your apartment. There’s a little thrill that tells you Mary’s back, but another warns you that it could be nefarious, so you pull the hammer out from under your pillow.

You eke your bedroom door open to reveal that it is, in fact, Mary in your apartment. In your kitchen.

As if feeling a shift in the air, he turns.

“Oh. Hi. I’m making—why are you holding a hammer?”

"Thought you were a masher. What are you doing here?”

He furrows his brows at you.

“Dinner?”

“Dinner,” you repeat.

“Did you … get my note?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

He walks the 2 or so steps it takes to get to your coffee table and plucks up a piece of paper that you can now see was lying on your laptop. He extends it out to you. You toss the hammer onto your bed—where it bounces and clatters loudly to the floor—and take the proffered note from Mary’s reach.

Suey—had to go to practice. Be by later. Dinner on Me. – M. Goore

“Oh,” you echo.

He squints at you.

“Didn’t you work today?”

“I—” you start, then trail off, “no.”

“Fuck.” He rubs his face. “Can we start over?”

You scrunch your face. “Start over from where?”

“These last couple weeks. They’ve been fuck all. Can we just pretend we haven’t been horrible to each other and go from there?”

Your ire flares up and—before you can stop yourself from a knee-jerk response—you say, “How have I been horrible to you?”

Mary gapes at you. “Are you shitting me? I don’t even … you’re frosty on the best of days, but lately you’ve been a total fucking ice queen. But then the instant you decide you’re horny, you’re all over me. I’m getting fucking whiplash here. Do you even like me, Sue? Or am I like some kind of sexbot to you?”

“Oh that’s real rich! You love frosty. You’re happiest when I’m being a total bitch to you—you practically thrive on it. The instant I showed you an iota of warmth you accused me of … of, I don’t even know! Being ‘just like all those other clingy, codependent girls,' I have to assume is what you meant. You wanted things back the way they were, so that’s what I gave you.”

“So you’ve been spiting me this entire time, is that it? It’s been ‘Get back at Mary’ time?”

You cry out in frustration, crumpling the note and throwing it across the room.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!” you shout at him. “One minute you’re asking me to be your girlfriend—then I act like your girlfriend, and you tell me ‘no, not like that.’ So I stop, only to have you accuse me of being petty! WHICH IS IT?!”

“I don’t want you to be like anything ! I just want you to be yourself!”

“I was myself and you yelled at me!”

“No—you were changing yourself to fit some ideal that I accidentally gave you, and I don’t want that.”

“Christ, you don’t even know what what you want looks like, do you? I’m not ‘changing myself’ to suit you, asshole—I’m trying to be more open, more myself, with you. There’s a big fucking difference. And fuck you for thinking I’d just wake up one day and become a Stepford Wife just because you got all soft.”

Mary just sputters for a minute before saying, “Well, what did you expect me to think when you made me dinner out of nowhere?”

“I make you dinner all the time!”

“Not like that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry—I put it on a plate instead of in a Tupperware. Ok. Is that what you need? Do you need to feel like you’re taking it instead of being given it? Except—huh! That’s what I’ve been doing these last few weeks, and now I’m a frosty bitch. So what is it, Mary? What the fuck is it that you want, because I’m tired of guessing.”

You walk over to your fridge and yank the notepad off before slamming it down in front of him.

“Here, write it down. Let’s be on the same page.”

He glares at you. “You know what? I don’t need this fucking drama in my life.”

He stomps out of the kitchen and stormily gathers up his backpack. He angrily shoves his feet in his boots and laces them up violently. He yanks his leather jacket off its hook and grapples it on. He’s got the front door half open before he turns to acknowledge you.

“Fuck. You’re not even going to try and stop me, are you?”

You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience, like someone else is controlling your body, when you pick up the notepad, waggle it, and say, “You didn’t write that down as something you wanted.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. You know it’s the wrong thing to say. There’s a million other things that you could’ve said. But you didn’t, and now you’re waiting for Mary to storm off and out of your life.

Instead, he leans his forehead against the door and closes it.

“Shit,” he says.

He turns around and slides down the door until he’s sitting up against it. He curls into himself, head in arms on bent knees.

When he doesn’t move or say anything more, you sigh and pad over to joining him on the floor.

“I don’t know what being with you looks like,” he says into the fold of his arms eventually. He lifts his head up to look at you. “But I do want to be with you. I feel like I fucked it all up.”

You place a hand on his arm.

“You didn’t … you didn’t ‘fuck it all up.’ I mean—maybe a little? But I … but you know I’m not … I’m not the best at these things, either. I guess you could say it was a joint effort.”

“I guess,” he agrees. After a moment he says, “I don’t ‘thrive on bitchiness”—I just … like it when you don’t put up with my shit.”

“Ok,” you nod. “And like, just because I do something for you doesn’t mean I’m compromising my feminist integrity or whatever the fuck it is you think I’m doing. It’d be a pretty shitty relationship if neither of us wanted to make the other one happy, don’t you think?”

“I guess. It’s just … I like your autonomy. I don’t want you to think you have to compromise that to … I don’t know. Keep me ‘interested’ or whatever.”

“Can you trust me then? Trust that I’m not changing who I am to please you? That if I please you, I’m still being my … Christ, my authentic self?”

He grabs your hand and rubs his thumb in the web between your thumb and index finger.

“Yeah. Ok.”

After that, the two of you help each other off the floor. It’s an uneasy truce you have for the time being, and neither of you want to upset the equilibrium. Mary continues to make dinner—having to refill the pot again, the water having drastically boiled down. He makes you buttered pasta with buttered saltines as a side. (“I know it’s a ‘poor people meal,’ but it’s what my mom used to make me as comfort food. I guess my grandma used to make it for her.” “It’s great. Thank you, Mary.”)

He sighs when he has to leave for work, but you kiss his temple and tell him that he’s more than welcome to join you in bed if he comes by after the bar cuts him.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore, you know—you never did.”

And later when you wake up because you’ve flailed into something solid, all you do is rearrange the blankets and press your face into his neck.

⬅️Previous | Next ➡️

#mary goore #ofc #ficlet #gritty girls #gutter punk #feral cats fic #my writing

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baileesbff-2024 · 4 years

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Hey it’s been over 6 months since the last time I’ve updated tumblr sorry about that. I’ve been really busy. Here’s the rundown on everything that’s been going on lately.

I’m still at Panera. I’ve been there for 2 years and almost 2 months august 4th now. I’ve come a long way since beginning to work there. I know a lot of positions. I know cash, bakery opener which includes setting up the bakery and slicing breads (which I don’t do anymore) it was only temporarily until they found another opener, dining room, carhop (curbside), barista, dish, some prep and some line (salads, sandwiches, soups etc.) I love working there for the most part. Sometimes my anxiety gets bad along with my stress but I ask to go in the back and calm down. I get along with almost everyone there and have hung out with a few co workers there. They’re my friends and family. I love the management. There’s not a bad thing to say about working there. I want to be a trainer someday there and learn more prep and line. I have a crush on one of my co workers. Hey I can’t help it. Overall it’s the best job I’ve ever had so far. Potbelly the job I worked at before there closed the one I worked at. Oh well there’s still plenty I can get to by bus. I still have the same phone the purple 128 GB IPHONE 11. I love it a lot so far I have 18 cases for it and I have 4 more cases coming in the mail. All Ariana Grande themed. One I customized on Casetify. I also got a acer laptop that my co worker helped me get, my iPod touch I’ve already had, my new Apple Watch and my new iPad Air with Apple Pencil. I gave my iPad that was almost 2 years old to Bailee. And I got heather a Fitbit. I still have sassy and babe. They’re great cats and I love them. Sassy is 2 and babe is 17 years old. Oh I almost forgot I just got a new canon digital camera I threw the old one from my ex away. I also got a new cordless vacuum and microwave. I went grocery shopping today and got a lot of things I needed and healthy food as well with Dr Pepper. I got cleaning stuff and toilet paper and toiletries. Also shampoo. I’m getting 2 pairs of new glasses in 2 weeks one is pink and one is purple. I got a eyeglass cleaning kit and then some essential oil stuff. My birthday was great. I turned 33 last Saturday 2 days ago. Bailee came over for the whole weekend. Friday we ate dinner, colored, took snap chat pictures, watched lady and the tramp live action, ate a snack, she took a shower, we relaxed and went to bed despite the storm. Saturday morning I opened my present from her, her mom and roommates. I got 2 cards, a ice pack from them, chocolate from Bailee and a self care kit with a bracelet from her mom. We got up and got dressed. We went to Panera for breakfast and had chocolate chip bagels with strawberry cream cheese. I got a gift of a rose decoration from my co worker. Then we went into the mall and first went to Spencer’s and she got 2 hats and a pin, we went to a photo booth and too pictures, we went to caribou and Sephora and got my free gifts there then we went to Claire’s and she got me stuff and I of course had to get a phone case and pop socket. She got me a eye sleep mask, half of a sharing best friends necklace and a cable buddy. Then we went home. We watched some sailor moon and then ordered dominos pizza for dinner with wings. We ate that with milk and garlic dipping sauce. Then more sailor moon. Then we played on our iPads after getting our pjs on. We went into my bedroom and turned on my fan and went to bed after 1. Then yesterday morning I got up at 7:45 and did my laundry and other cleaning while Bailee slept in. Then we did more cleaning and Bailee Marie condo’d my apartment especially my clothes. I am donating 2 bags of stuff to goodwill. All of my clothes are in my dresser and the only things hanging in my closet are my hoodies, work clothes and dresses. The drawers are for memories and pictures and relaxation stuff and one drawer has my laptop in it and my cds are organized and also my slippers. We did a good job. My mom came over and dropped of a gift for my birthday I got some cards and waiting for more in the mail. Then me and Bailee had Mac and cheese while watching more sailor moon and also made jello. Then she went home.

And then I relaxed and I watched YouTube. Nothing else is new really. Saving money really well. Spoiled myself a lot and still have money saved. Paying bills and getting stuff done. I’ve paid my medical bill and 2 out of 3 credit bills off going to pay the third off when I get it in the mail. Keeping to myself. I have a few friends in the building that I trust. And I have way more outside of here and all my co workers are my friends too. I hope to have a bf soon too. I’ll update soon or in 6 more months lol

Lisa

Here’s a Ariana Grande GIF JUST BECAUSE I LOVE HER AND SHES THE BEST❤️❤️❤️ also my favorite pictures of me and Bailee 😊

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jessiewre · 4 years

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Day 56

Sat 29th Feb

🧅🧅🧅 Leap Year & Day before the Run 🏃🏻‍♂️🏃🏻‍♂️🏃🏻‍♂️

The room was very, VERY hot. We were sleeping on single beds in different corners of the room and the ceiling rotating fan was only reaching the edges of our beds. I got up early to escape & headed to the roof terrace - and immediately spotted the main attraction! The clouds had cleared for a moment and there was a beautiful view of Kilimanjaro peak. So cool!

I ran down to tell Phil to get up immediately and come see it. He grunted and reluctantly agreed to, so I ran back up where I’d left my stuff...and saw that the cloud had covered it up again. Uh oh...

LUCKILY when Phil appeared 5 minutes later, it popped its lovely head out of the clouds again and Phil was suitably impressed. We sat on the rooftop and ordered breakfast enjoying the view as the sun rose, but there was a problem developing. The heat was increasing very fast and the rooftop was getting really hot. There was a large roof cover so we weren’t getting direct heat, but it felt like the roof was absorbing all the sun and heating up the area into some sort of giant oven. Phil began to sweat profusely and ended up having to leave to shower and cool down before he lost his cool completely. He came back 20 minutes later feeling much better, much cooler, but after 15 minutes he was sweating again.

I was ok though and felt quite happy chilling on the rooftop, so Phil said he’d go for a walk. He wanted to do something, so went to get some bottles of water (literally water and not beer this time wtf right) then came back.

Wasn’t enough to satisfy him though, and he decided to go to an ATM to get our cash sorted. Fine by me! We agreed that we’d go together for the run registration half hour later, once he’d returned, as I wanted to go together plus was going to potentially sign up for the 5km fun run.  Well, half an hour came and went, and I began to wonder where he’d got to. I hoped he wasn’t stressed looking for a cash point.

Then, an hour later, a very sweaty flappy Phil burst into the room.

‘Am I in deep shit? Are you fuming?!? Oh my god, that was SO annoying!’

I felt sorry for him straight away, but then noticed - he had his race number in his hand.

‘Phil...have you been to register for the race? Why did you go and register without me??’

Phil huffed and puffed a bit before launching into it.

‘Jess, just listen, that was SO annoying cos I walked to find a cash point and then realised I was really close to registration, like 0.8km...’

At which point I interrupted to let him know that 0.8km is not ‘really close’.

‘Jess, shut up, you don’t understand, I tried to go there and there was loads of traffic...’

‘Traffic? So you had to get a tuc tuc there? Makes sense I suppose, considering it wasn’t very close’

‘Jess shut UP it was really stressful, I tried to get online to let you know where I was cos I thought you’d be fuming I’d taken so long, and I couldn’t get online and so rushed back here, and I didn’t even pick up my tshirt’.

I was baffled as to his decision making.

‘Phil. Firstly, WHY did you go to register after we agreed to go together and I specifically said I wanted to go with you to register?? Secondly, why are you talking to me like I’VE done something wrong??’

But by this point, he’d got himself in such a state that we were not able to have a sensible conversation about it. Phil’s way of dealing with how annoyed he was with himself for making shite decisions was to shout at me, a lot (at one point he actually said ‘All you want to do is your blog’ which was a low blow I thought).

So I retreated to the safety of the rooftop where I could hurl abuse of my own at him from a safe distance via WhatsApp. Ahh, you gotta love a whatsapp argument. Phil is typing... oh IS he now.

Well it worked a treat and Phil went all Gary Barlow on me, messaging me along the lines of Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn’t mean it. After admitting he’d been a grade A twat, he skulked up to the rooftop to apologise and started to laugh (the audacity of it), and we agreed to try again and head to the registration TOGETHER. I showed him the definition of the word on dictionary.com to avoid any further confusion.

We walked the (long and not close by) distance to the Keys hotel and oh thank goodness, there were still places available, so I signed up for the 5km ‘fun’ run. I had prepared my happy speech in advance ‘Oh yay, there are spots left, fantastic news, I’m so relieved, I thought they might all be gone by now and that would have been terrible’.

Fun run eh? We’ll see. Other suitable names for it could be the ‘5km Why Try’ or the ‘5km Pain Train’. Look, I KNOW its only 5km but I hadn’t run for ages so felt a little unsure as to how it was going to go.

Phil walked me over to a counter where he had seen a running hat for sale on his first trip there and he wanted to try it on. I managed to convince him that this red monstrosity of a hat looked super duper cool, was not a crime against fashion on every level and was the PERFECT match to accompany his wonderful & sexy running waistcoat. I wasn’t the only one thinking it, the guy selling them couldn’t get rid them quick enough and practically gave it to Phil, offering a 5000Tsh discount for no apparent reason. I know the reason. We all know the reason.*

While Phil was chatting to this guy about running and other boring things to do with running, we were approached by a guy with a camera woman asking if he could do an interview with Phil. I think it was the hat that did it. They obviously thought Wow look at those gullible fools, they’ll do anything. And they were right of course. I lolled while Phil answered a few questions and told them something about London being cold. Then the tables turned and they asked me to answer some question too. I was like No no no, I’m only doing the 5km, I’m not a runner runner like.

But they didn’t seem bothered, asking me too to say my name, how far I was running and how I’d prepared. ‘Well I haven’t prepared’ I said ‘But I’m only doing the 5km so I think I’ll survive!’.

I then could not for the life of me get ‘I Will Survive’ by Gloria Estefan out of my head.

Enos the interviewer took our number and said he’d send us a link when it went live. Sure mate, course you will - I fully expected to never hear from him again.

We left to go find some lunch and asked our tuc tuc driver to take us to the Kilimanjaro Coffee Lounge. But he was utterly clueless and we pulled up outside a completely different cafe called Union Cafe. Handily though, it was really close to our hotel so we thought Screw it, Union cafe it is then. It was pretty good, had a nice bagel with cheese, tomato and avocado plus a Mediterranean platter - houmous, pitta and two minuscule bowls of other dips.

My ice coffee shake was like pure syrup though and despite the first sip tasting delicious, by the end of it, it was positively nauseating. It was all a bit expensive too.

Back to the hotel where we watched the Crown with a Safari beer (so many great beer names here) and tried to take it easy ahead of tomorrow’s race. Loads of last minute sponsors came flying it which was really nice and gave us a much appreciated boost of support. They’d probably heard the news about my 5km run and thought I was a legend.

Out of pure laziness, we wandered round the corner back to Union Cafe to grab a takeaway pizza but decided to sit there instead when we saw there were tables available. As we sat there, Phil suddenly looked behind me and said ‘Jess...is that...is that a cricket on that mans shoulder??’.

Sure enough a huge locust was just sat on this guys shoulder, like it was his pet, joining him for dinner. I was fairly certain it was not his pet and it looked hilarious sat there like his pal. I got the mans attention and said ‘Excuse me, you have a cricket on your shoulder’. He stared at me with confusion and when he eventually realised what I was saying, he started to do a shimmy shake with his shoulders leaning over his table in a panic to try and get his mate to flick the cricket off him 😂😂😂. His mate finally got it and the man tried to look all calm as he casually turned to us and said ‘Thank you’ through a forced smile.

We enjoyed this incident very much.

The chips and Greek salad were ok but the pizza was rubbisssshhhh. The pizza looked like it had been sat for ages, like it had been cooked twice. Being the feminist that I am (aren’t we all?) I used a ring of onion to mock propose to Phil (ITS A LEAP YEAR Y’ALL) and he said yes! But please, don’t get excited guys, it was a piece of onion yeah 🧅. We took the carbs and headed back our crazy hotttt room. We got all our running gear ready, though I had my doubts about wearing running leggings in the heat, then did a bit of bed shifting to catch the fan breeze a bit more. We’d learnt from the night before and both put ear plugs in to drown out the crazy loud road noises before attempting sleep.

*Look Phil, I was kidding about the hat. I thought it would be funny to diss it on the blog and I actually think its a wonderful and very fantastic practical addition to your running kit. Please wear it with pride and enjoy the shade it gives you. I certainly will.

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everlarkchristmasgifts · 5 years

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Thanks to all the mods putting this Holiday prompt page together! Thank you for all your hard work and contributions to the Tumblr everlark family now and in the past.

A/N: This is part one of a hasty, four-day attempt to multi-part a drabble set for @everlarkchristmasgifts ‘s prompts. It may not get done on time, but they say it’s good to believe in miracles at Christmas, lol.

This part rated G

Thanks to @alliswell21 for giving it a beta read on quick notice.

And… *deep inhale, because why on earth am I trying to butcher one of my favorite stand alone drabbles with a sequel???**… this follows on the events of Pasty White Raisin.

________________________________________________

“Shopping…”

It was twelve days to Christmas. They’d missed Christmas last year. It could’ve been their first Christmas, but Peeta had been too stubborn to let a woman “waste her life” on a washed-up baker twelve years older than her.

She’d won, by the end of the Winter thaw. He’d already been in love, but he’d finally let himself love, and everything that had seemed to mean to him.

Well, everything within the parameters of being a gentleman.

He’d insisted on her making him work for her good favor, and at first it had been a funny game, his insistence that he court her, a delicious, slow romance of soft kisses and interwoven fingers and getting to know each other over conversations, dinners, or during walks. But the game had given him time to reconsider what he might be getting in to.

Which was robbing her of a future she deserved.

So ultimately, he’d come to use the game as a way to buy time to fortify the barriers so strongly she’d be forced to admit she should cut her losses.

And when she’d still refused, he’d cut her losses for her, before the summer heat had waned, with an “I’m sorry, Katniss, this isn’t working for me,” followed instantly by firing her from doing the bakery’s books, which she’d been doing part-time for the low cost wage of a half-dozen cheese buns a week, and refusing to respond to her texts or voicemails.

At Thanksgiving, she’d shown up at his door, asking if they could spend the evening together, talk. Consider reconsidering.

He’d shaken his head and closed the door on her, but not before his face had presented a few moments of unmasked regret and longing.

She’d almost gone to a hardware store for an ax to chop his door off its hinges.

When she’d called her uncle Haymitch in tears from her car, still sitting in the bakery’s parking lot, he’d agreed chopping down Peeta’s door was an acceptable strategy, except there wouldn’t be a hardware store open on Thanksgiving Day.

So this Christmas season— the Christmas that could have been their second Christmas, or at least their first— just a year after she’d chosen him, the rejection had left its mark on her. She couldn’t face flying out west to spend Christmas with her sister and mother. Would not be able to muster the emotional energy necessary to pretend she was okay for a whole evening spent with her friends, despite their invites.

No, she and Haymitch were going to spend it getting drunk on vodka, eating crock-pot roast and microwaved mashed potatoes, and watching either a marathon of The Profit, or Rocky, depending on which one of them won the coin toss.

So with twelve days to Christmas, Katniss Everdeen decided it was time to say goodbye once and for all.

Well, twelve times, for all.

Twelve ways to say she loved him.

Twelve ways to say goodbye.

Twelve ways to say both at the same time.

Twelve days, twelve gifts.

And it was going to start with a Thursday, lunch hour shopping trip.

“Kat, where you going?”

Odair was the afternoon manager for the restaurant side of the brewery operation where she was a bookeeper. He’d stepped so quickly in her way she almost couldn’t stop before walking into him.

His hands here clasped behind his back and he was grinning. His up-to-something look.

“Lunch,” she said, guarded.

“Right. It’s treason to buy lunch from somewhere other than here. And anyway, you eat lunch from a brown bag. Every day. You’re so frugal, you probably even reuse the same bag until it’s toast. No, Katniss Everdeen looks like a woman on a mission.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Then it would make sense to get out of my way.”

He studied her as though he could read her secrets if he looked hard enough.

“You off to see that baker guy of yours? Because I would love one of his everything bagels, and Annie likes the peanut butter chip cookies.”

Katniss swallowed and fought off a wave of pain.

“No, I’m going to the mall to do some Christmas shopping.”

“Oh, perfect then,” like magic, his hand was suddenly in front of her face, waving a hundred dollar bill, as though he already knew where she was heading and was just enjoying teasing her about the other, “I need something pretty for Annie. I was thinking a necklace.”

Katniss felt an urge to punch him, but started to step around him instead. He stepped in her way again, grin back on his face.

“Come on, help a guy out. The last time I picked out jewelry for her, it was a total flop, and you remember it.”

“Finnick, the only reason it flopped, was because you thought it’d be funny to give her a used pendant with someone else’s initials on it.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. That thing was an antique. And it was beautiful, and I knew the emeralds would set off her eyes. And anyway, the first initial matched.”

Katniss just shook her head; his problems were his, thankfully.

“Have to go, bye.”

He snagged her hand, yanking her momentum to a stop and then slapping the bill into her palm.

“Just in case something jumps out at you.”

“You realize how terrible it is to ask another woman to shop for your girlfriend.”

Finnick shrugged. “You’re not another woman, you’re basically family. And anyway, I already have her other gifts bought. I just want a wildcard.”

Katniss scowled.

“Fine, but I’m taking two hours for lunch, without losing the extra hour of pay, and you have to cover in case someone needs a bank run.”

Odair winked, then walked off with a, “Thanks, Katniss. You’re the second-best.”

Katniss shoved the bill into her jean’s pocket, so it could help her debit card burn a hole into the denim.

___

She knew what the first gift for Peeta would be, so she parked near the entrance closest to the woolen shop. Unfortunately, that entrance was the least used, and its parking more like the back forty. With Winter being stubborn about providing snow for Christmas, and the mall neglecting to plow that section, by the time she was inside, her feet were wet and freezing from slogging through patches of standing slush. There was a small hunting shop just inside the entrance, one of her favorite stores, and the moment she saw a pair of boots she’d been drooling over for six months on sale for forty percent off, she decided that if she was going to loosen up on the financial reigns enough that week to buy herself a sense of closure about Peeta, she might as well give herself that one treat.

Fifteen minutes later, she was stalking to the sweater shop in knee-high, front lace brown leather boots with reinforced heels and toes, all weather tread, and Gortex lined. And to make it better, her toes were swaddled in thick, high-tech, sweat-wicking winter socks.

She was even smiling by the time she got to her intended destination.

But then as soon as she was inside, her heart sank.

Peeta’s first present was a sweater she’d been eying for him for almost a month, folded on a center display table just inside the entrance. Imported from Ireland, it was a heavy, rough-finish wool sweater, that had a faded quality to its blue. The first time she’d seen it, she’d wanted him in it. Wanted to see how it contrasted with his light hair, complimented his blue eyes, hugged his shoulders, and layered over the waist of his jeans. Back then, she had still be holding hope he’d snap out of it, that maybe Christmas morning they’d be opening presents together and she’d get to see him in it, run her hands along down his arms to sense the feel of it, rest her palms against the scratchy texture of the wool, but feel the warmth and firmness of his shoulders and chest beneath.

But now, she wouldn’t get that pleasure. He would have the sweater. Hopefully, he would wear it. But regardless, she’d never get to see it.

If things went according to plan, someone else would.

She looked through the stack, finding his size and then laying it out, unfolded, over the rest. Her fingers stroked along the back and inside of the collar, where a beautiful, muted orange line of silky fabric had been sewn in to help prevent the roughness of the wool from rubbing against the sensitive flesh of his neck. It was even almost Peeta’s favorite shade of orange.

A friendly young clerk came up, asking if she could be of help. Her bubbling mood was a knife-stab to Katniss’ heart, so Katniss told her she had other shopping to do and was in a hurry. The girl agreed to wrap it and have it waiting for Katniss to pay for and pick up on her way back out of the mall.

The next stop was Eddie Bauer, where she had a clerk box a wheat-colored Henley on a bed of black tissue, hand it over long enough for Katniss to finger press a dog ear into the collar where the top button would normally be, and then finish with the full-on Christmas wrapping treatment. Her first hour was almost up.

Neiman Marcus covered two more gifts, six depending on how one counted, and fortune favored her in a special find that saved her a side trip to Hot Topic. Plus, the clerks there were fast wrappers. She had thirty minutes left for this trip, and, for this trip, only two more items to go.

The most expensive.

A boutique, ultra-high end men’s store cost her savings account exactly eight hundred, forty-seven dollars and sixteen cents. The gift wrapping took absolutely forever. But everything about the work, from the paper, to the simple ribbon, to the ridiculously expensive, and large, carry out bag, was immaculate. It almost made her cry.

It did make her cry, actually. Because signing her name to a payment slip that size made it crystal clear just what she had committed herself to do, and that she would not be the one to see the end result.

But she made a quick stop at Zales, saw what she instantly knew was the right call. It was just shy of two hundred and fifty after tax, but today was her day to spend on others, and Annie and Finnick were good friends, so she pocketed the hundred for her piggy bank, and paid for it out of her checking.

_____

“You’re late. Nice boots.”

“What?”

Finnick rooted around in the Zales bag she handed him for the necklace box.

“You’re late. You said two hours. It’s been a hundred and twenty-seven minutes. Did you stop at the bakery and bring us the bagels?”

“I didn’t have time.” Thankfully.

“Then I’m docking you the seven minutes,” he said without missing a beat, and when he finally got the red velvet box open, his teasing fell away into a look of confusion, and then a threat of real emotion. “Katniss, how did you…” He shook his head and the red headed prankster looked like he might actually hug her.

“Call it fate,” she said, and then started walking back to her office. “And if you dock me those seven minutes, our next limited run is going to be called Odair Pale, ‘cause that’ll be the vat you’d drown in.”

_____

Katniss was out the brewery doors at 5:00pm sharp. She managed to stop by the barber shop and the youth initiative before they closed by six, and that left only one purchase to go.

First, a stop at the bank.

Then, her final stop at the pawn shop.

The old man who owned the shop had held the item for her, and all that remained was for her to bring in the cash for it.

He was sitting at the counter like he was waiting for her— a sale like that, she was probably the one single person he was waiting for that day— and produced the item immediately, including the silky box that went with it, dull and stained by time. She carefully counted out the money, and he carefully wrote her out a receipt in his shaky handwriting.

Pawn shops didn’t gift wrap, but since it was raining, he found a used plastic bag from the back and gave her that to carry it away in.

It felt heavy, the plastic in her fingers as she walked back to her car.

Heavy like an ending.

Heavy like time moving on without her.

_____

By seven, the drizzle was threatening to turn to sleet with the evening’s cooling temperature. Katniss shivered a little, trying to shrink further into her jacket, and was even more glad for her new boots, because the slush in the alley behind the bakery was even worse than it had been at the mall. The windows above her, on the bakery’s second floor were lit; Peeta was at home, no surprise. He’d be watching television, maybe. Or even finishing dinner. Within an hour, he’d start thinking about bed.

For the six or seven months he’d let her into his life, she’d learned his habits fast. They’d never shared a bed and never spent a night together, because he wouldn’t allow it— because he was going to ‘do things right’— but they’d spent plenty of time together. By the Summer, they’d been seeing each other every day. And she’d found so much joy in the not rushing it. It had given them time to fully appreciate the excitement of almost innocent kisses and the silly, mutual attempts to find opportunities for them to be less than strictly innocent, the almost stolen thrill of sitting just close enough knees might touch, or arms might press. The silences and times where they were just around each other, without having to feel pressure that being out on a date, or on a walk, or going to the bookstore together was somehow really only posturing for a race they were supposed to complete by end of the day.

She knew his hours.

Knew not to text him after seven thirty.

Knew he didn’t actually like texting at all, and preferred a phone call, if a personal visit wasn’t possible.

Knew which corner of his couch he liked to lean into when watching television. Knew where his mugs were, and his glasses. Knew which drawer had the silverware, which hall closet had the extra hand towels for the bathroom. Knew he recycled cans, but often forgot to recycle plastic. Knew which episodes of Big Bang Theory were his favorites.

Each step up the steel-grate steps up to Peeta’s second-floor entry, brought another ‘knew’ to her mind, digging the knife a little deeper.

But she kept going, careful to duck a little near the top in case he happened to be at the kitchen sink window, and then leaning the box with the wool sweater against his door, with a note taped to it.

—Don’t open until six on Christmas Eve—

Just as carefully, she crept back down and then took up a position in the blackness behind the dumpster. A pocketful of little garden stones served as her ammunition, and she chucked three at his door with perfect aim.

From the shadows, she watched Peeta’s face appear at the window, and then a moment later, light came flooding out from his doorway. He saw the present right away, but looked around first to see who was there.

He called her name out and for a second she thought maybe he was able to see her after all, but after a few seconds of him leaning out over the rail and looking both ways down the alley, it was clear he didn’t. He came back to the present, gave it a look over, and then went back inside.

She didn’t know whether to feel honored or sad that after a gift appeared for him, the only person he thought to call out in question to was her.

#everlark #everlarkchristmasgifts #day one: christmas shopping #by dandeliononfire #fan fic #2018 #submission

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ceealaina · 6 years

Text

Everything You Do Convinces Me More

Title: Everything You Do Convinces Me More Pairing: Steve Rogers x Tony Stark Link: AO3 Rating: T Summary: Steve likes to prank people. And then he and Tony hook up. There’s some kind of connection to the two events in there somewhere. Word Count: 5,222 A/N: Loosely based on this tumblr post about Steve being a total troll. My brain read it and ran with it.

It started during Steve’s “reintegration process,” shortly after he’d been thawed from the ice, when SHIELD hadn’t quite figured out what to do with him yet, but didn’t want to risk leaving him to his own devices, and had kept him on lockdown instead. They hadn’t called it that, of course, but Steve wasn’t stupid.

And the thing was? Reintegration was really damn boring. Steve missed the 40s, of course he did. He missed his friends, missed Peggy and the commandos (and Bucky, always Bucky, like a hole in his chest). And of course it was a culture shock sometimes; he didn’t think he’d ever get over the price of a cup of coffee. But it didn’t take him nearly as long to adjust as everyone seemed to expect, and the Recent American History books got real dry real fast. And well, ask anyone who really knew him, and Steve had always been a bit of a punk.

So he started fucking with people.

It was just harmless stuff, really, nothing more than a mild irritant. He’d taken to computers and the internet like a duck to water, and one day, three hours deep into YouTube videos, he ended up watching a 47-second video on how to flip a desktop screen. And so the next day, when he passed Agent Endright’s unoccupied desk (the same agent who, three days earlier had explained how to use a damn microwave in the most condescending tone that Steve had ever heard), he hadn’t been able to resist. And when he heard the frustrated cries coming from Agent Endright - who apparently hadn’t watched the same video as Steve - something warm blossomed in his heart.

It turned out there were all kinds of fun tricks you could pull with desktops, so a few days later he slipped into Agent Alvarez’s office, quickly took a screenshot of her screen, and set it as the background, hiding the taskbar at the same time. He couldn’t help snickering himself later that day, when he walked down the hall to hear her grumbling about it to another agent, promising to report them once she found out who had done it. (Agent Alvarez, though very nice, was a stickler for rules. Personally, Steve didn’t think it hurt to approach them with a slightly more laissez-faire attitude.) When she pulled him into the conversation, asking if he had noticed anything, he managed to hide his smile, pulling up his best “aw shucks ma’am” expression as he assured her that he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, but he’d be sure to keep an eye out for any potential culprits.

The next week he brought in a bag of raisin bagels, concealed in a chocolate chip bagel bag. Chocolate chip bagels were a weakness of Agent Lennox, and Steve made sure to position himself in the staff kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and reading from the newspaper (a real paper one and everything!) when they took a bite, which was promptly spit out with a horrified noise. It was a close thing, but Steve managed to smother his laugh before blinking guilelessly up at Lennox, asking if everything was alright.

He kept going like this for the next couple of weeks. Everyone was talking about the string of pranks that was suddenly plaguing the department, and even though Steve was the only factor that had changed, no one had even the slightest inkling that he might have been behind it. It was kind of great.

Then, of course, Loki arrived and suddenly Steve’s reintegration period was over and without so much as a chance to change his underwear, he was thrown into the thick of things. It was chaos and destruction, and nothing that Steve had ever imagined was even possible. But suddenly he was part of a team again. They’d all gone their own ways at first, but slowly, gradually they’d all made their back to New York, back to Stark - sorry, Avenger - Tower. And it was good.

They weren’t the Commandos, nowhere near that level of camaraderie, but there was something comforting in the familiarity of having the same people around him every day, and Steve had absolute faith that they would get to the point of real friendship eventually. He just… might… do something to help things along. Like putting purple koolaid in Clint’s shower head (the internet was seriously a wealth of amazing ideas. Steve was a huge fan). Or managing to convince Tony for three hours that he couldn’t figure out how the television remote worked and needed it explained to him. Repeatedly. And that may or may not have turned into a full out prank war among all the avengers that lasted a solid three months, right up until Bruce booby trapped the three hole punch to spray hot sauce, except the person who ended up using it was a high brow client, and Pepper put a stop to the whole thing.

And through it all, not one person, not even Natasha (he was pretty sure) suspected Steve. They all figured he was some old 1940s fuddy duddy (Clint’s words, not his) who had been born before pranks had been invented, apparently. And Steve was happy to let them keep thinking that, maybe even play it up a little, if it meant he could continue to get away with doing what he was doing.

The thing was, Steve was kind of a dick. Not an asshole - he felt that was an important distinction. He wasn’t a republican, he firmly believed in equal rights, and he would never hurt someone (unless they were a bad guy, obviously, or otherwise had it coming). But there was some little part of him that liked messing with people in harmless ways. Bucky had known that about him, had always given him suspicious looks, then laughed and called him a punk, ruffling his hair while Steve squawked at him to fuck off. But here no one suspected him, and when he was Captain America, couldn’t quite believe it even while seeing it happen in front of them. So sometimes, when he was exhausted from a long battle, or feeling like Steve Rogers had been replaced by Captain America, or when he was just tired of the pressure of constantly having everyone’s eyes on him, he would do things like steal french fries from strangers in McDonald’s, or shooting past people on bikes when he was out for a run, or cursing up a blue streak in front of teenagers in the park only to stop with a wink the second they pulled their phones out to catch it on camera, or lift cars when there were small children watching (that one was actually super fun. He loved the way their eyes would light up in amazement).

It just made him feel a little bit better about the crazy turns his life had taken.

If you’d asked him three months ago - hell, if you’d asked him three hours ago - Tony would have never, ever pegged Steve as the pranking mastermind. If he’d had to rank the avengers in order of Most Likely to Prank, Steve would be at the very bottom of the list, somewhere below Jarvis. He loved the guy - they’d grown much closer after their initial meeting, and Steve had rapidly grown to be one of Tony’s favourite people. They spent a lot of their free time together, playing long games of chess when neither of them could sleep, or Steve coming down to keep Tony company in the lab, spending hours sketching and talking while Tony got lost in his work. They shared meals, and a love of ice cream, and talked a lot, long conversations that ranged from deep and meaningful to so funny they were on the floor laughing and could barely remember why. Tony adored Steve. He was genuinely kind, smart in a wildly different way from Tony, had a wickedly dry sense of humour that always took Tony off guard, and if Tony was totally honest with himself, he was rapidly developing a pretty strong crush on the man. He’d just never pictured Steve as the pranking type.

Or at least, that had been the case, right up until the end of the last mission. It had been a long one, though thankfully they’d come out of it relatively unharmed. Tony had banged up his shoulder and ended up hovering near the Quinjet while he made sure it wasn’t anything critical. SHIELD was onsite by then, prepping for cleanup and debriefing, and Tony was only half paying attention to what was going on around him. He could hear people talking close by, and it took a few minutes before he placed Steve’s voice. He sounded confused, and Tony looked up, eyes tracking him down to where he was standing a few feet away, talking to a junior SHIELD agent with a piece of paper in his hand.

“Son,” he was saying, voice endearing and pleading in a way that only Steve could pull off. “I really need your help with this. Director Fury asked me to fill out this paperwork, and paperwork’s just not my forte. This is form…” He looked down at the paper in his hand. “One-two-seven-niner Delta? And I guess I need form Bravo Bravo One-oh-seven? Do you think you can find the form for me? Fury’s on his way back, and I think he’ll lose it if he has to explain it to me one more time.”

“I, um.” The agent swallowed, looking confused and more than a little intimidated. “I- yes sir, Captain Rogers. Of course.” He took off at a sprint, and as Tony watched, Steve’s lips twitched, curling up into a smug smile that Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen on Steve’s face before.

Intrigued now, Tony started fiddling with the side of the Quinjet, turning himself so that he could keep an eye on Steve and his pleased smile while having an excuse at the ready if anyone asked what he was doing. It only took a couple minutes for the agent to return, papers in hand and a perplexed look on his face.

“Um, Captain Rogers, sir?”

Steve turned around, that endearing look back on his face, and Tony’s frown deepened because that look was far soppier than anything he’d ever seen on Steve’s face before.

“Did you find the form, Agent?”

“Uh, well. I think maybe there might have been a mixup? I checked the databases, and I can’t find any record of the form you’re looking for?” He cleared his throat, fluttering the paper in his hand toward Steve. “I did find a form Bravo Bravo one-oh-four. But sir - this is an authorization form requesting permission to host an inner-office bake sale. I-I don’t think that’s the form you were looking for?”

Tony couldn’t help snorting outloud, and Steve made an awkward choking sound before constructing his facial expression into something even more confused. “Oh,” he said, eyebrows knitting into a frown. “No, I don’t… That can’t be right, can it?” He stared down at the form in the agent’s hand. “Are you sure there isn’t a One-oh-seven?”

“I’m pretty sure, sir.” He was obviously trying to be assertive, but he looked pained at the look on Steve’s face. “I can check again?”

“Would you?” Steve asked, face lighting up. “I’d really appreciate it.” He frowned at the paper again. “I’m sure Fury doesn’t want me to host a bake sale, but I just can’t wrap my head around searching these databases.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers sir. I’ll… be back as soon as possible.”

Tony watched him run off again, narrowing his eyes as he watched the exchange. Flipping up his faceplate, he moved over to Steve, who was watching the agent go with the same smile as before.

“Okay, what gives Rogers?” He asked in an undertone. “There’s no such thing as form Bravo Bravo One-oh-seven.”

Apparently he’d actually managed to sneak up on Steve, because the other man jumped with a hilarious squawking sound. “Tony! Were you - I didn’t see you there, sorry.” He blinked, face going carefully blank. “What were you saying?”

“That form you keep sending Agent Two Shoes after? That’s not what we use. It doesn’t even exist. “

“Oh, um. Are you sure? I could have sworn… Oh! You know what? You’re gonna make fun of me, Tony. That’s a form we used during the war. You know, with the ice and everything, sometimes I still get odd things mixed up.”

“Riiiiight.” Tony frowned at him, puzzling out the detail that had been niggling at him since he first heard Steve talking. “Wasn’t 107 your unit? You know, back in the good old war days?”

Steve shrugged, and there was something slightly panicked in his eyes. “Coincidence. We have a form 70295, and that’s your birthday. It happens.”

Tony blinked, that stopping him. “You know my birthday? You know those numbers make my birthday?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not exactly a state secret, Tony, of course I know your birthday. Come on, I’m exhausted, and we still have to debrief. I’ll, um. Leave a note for Agent Hicks. Let’s go back to the tower.”

“Yeah, alright,” Tony said, still giving Steve a suspicious look. “Let’s go.”

Steve laid low after that, partially because he wasn’t sure how long Tony had been standing there and didn’t know how much he had put together, and partially because Tony was like a dog with a bone, kept watching Steve speculatively, and so Steve couldn’t have gotten away with something if he’d tried. Still, as previously established, Steve was a dick at heart, and eventually it seemed as though something else caught Tony’s attention, because he stopped eyeing him every time he walked into a room, or sneaking up on him at random moments. He had never called Steve out either, or questioned him further, so Steve figured it was safe.

He started out slow, little things like moving Clint’s pizza box to the other side of the room when he ran to grab a drink, just enough to confuse him. When nobody jumped out to accuse Steve of being the catalyst for every prank war that had ever occurred, he started stepping things up again, and before long he had (in his own mind, since no one else could know) once again regained the title of Steve Rogers King of Pranks.

It hadn’t taken Tony long to realize that watching Steve the way he was, he was never going to have another chance to catch him and confirm his suspicions. So he’d stopped. Or at least, he stopped actively watching him. Contrary to popular belief, Tony actually did know how to be subtle. It’s just that subtlety didn’t usually serve him that well, so he never bothered with it. Outing Steve as a secret evil mastermind would definitely serve him though, so subtlety it was.

It took some time - obviously he’d spooked Steve with all his questions after the paperwork incident - but gradually he noticed Steve relaxing around him again, and not watching Tony in turn. And finally, nearly three months later, Tony’s patience paid off.

It was after another mission and when Tony noticed Steve off by himself, helping with clean up. He made his way over, finding something to fiddle with just out of Steve’s eyeline. At first he was legitimately just doing his thing, cowl off and face exposed as he muscled some debris out of the street and into a somewhat neat pile. But then, as Tony watched, he paused to brush the hair out of his face and his eyes lighted on a group of little kids, around seven or eight, hovering unsupervised at the edge of the barricades, now that the danger had passed. They were watching in awe, whispering to each other and pointing at Steve in excitement, and while Tony had the brief thought of wondering where on earth their guardians were, they seemed pretty safe. Apparently Steve thought so too, because he stopped his cleanup efforts, grinning over at them and waving, laughing when that made them shriek in excitement and duck out of sight. It was sweet, and while wholesome was everything that you were supposed to expect from Captain America, something about it made Tony go all warm and tingly inside.

But then, Steve looked around furtively to see if anyone was paying attention to him, and when he didn’t spot anyone, he winked at the kids and then picked up a fucking motorcycle and lifted it over his head. The kids all started hollering in excitement, and Tony didn’t miss the smile that spread across Steve’s face. Half impressed and half wanting to roll his eyes on principle, Tony watched Steve do a few overhead presses with the bike before setting it back down with a heavy clang. He held up a finger to his lips, indicating they should keep it to themselves, a secret between them and Captain America, and the kids all took off screeching in excitement. Steve laughed a little before turning back to what he was doing, the pleased grin on his face softening into something that Tony couldn’t quite place.

When Tony had imagined finally catching Steve out, he had imagined making a big show of it. Maybe recording proof that he could play in lieu of their next movie night, so that ribbing Steve could be a team bonding experience, maybe just jumping out at Steve so he could hold the fact that he had caught him over his head for the rest of time. But something about the pleased look on Steve’s face, the truly happy smile, stopped him, made him want to do something to keep that smile on his face for always, and so Tony said nothing to anyone.

Now that he knew, Tony couldn’t believe that none of them had picked up on it before. It seemed so obvious, in retrospect. Half the tower pranks happened when Steve was the only one who was even around to do it, and somehow they’d never once suspected him. It was a little disgusting, honestly, like Steve was so sweet and innocent he couldn’t pull a prank - even though they’d all witnessed him cursing out Nazis and Republicans and the Yankees on a regular basis? Tony was a little ashamed of the whole team (and himself, if he was really being honest.)

More and more he noticed that all the pranks (with the exception of when things escalated to a full-on war) could be traced back to Steve, Steve who always looked just a touch too innocent, now that Tony was looking for it. And he’d had every intention of eventually calling him out, had started out just plotting the best way to do so, what the best reveal would be, how to most effectively show the team that he had figured it out first. Except the longer he went without saying anything, the less he wanted to. He kind of liked the secret of it, liked catching Steve’s small smile after he pulled something off, figuring out how he’d pulled his latest prank. It was like a secret the two of them shared, even if Steve didn’t actually know about it.

And, truthfully, he was falling in love with this new side of Steve. That little crush had grown into something wildly out of control. Tony had known from the get go that Steve was his exact physical type; he’d jerked off to his pictures more times than he’d care to admit during his formative years, and that inclination hadn’t exactly gone away when he’d met him in person. But he’d gotten to learn Steve’s quirks, to realize he was more than just his father’s most successful experiment, and somewhere in there he’d just accepted that he was more than a little in love with the man. Realizing that Steve was a secret prankster, that he was capable of applying his tactical skills to the kind of pranks that took Tony back to his days with Rhodey at MIT? It was like Steve was made for him.

They probably would have kept on like this forever, never actually going further than that, if it wasn’t for Clint - or, more specifically, if it wasn’t for Clint almost catching Steve. Tony had stepped off the elevator into the common area to find Clint sprawled across the couch, watching some made-for-tv movie, Steve sitting in a chair close by. Steve looked over at the sound of the elevator, giving Tony a warm smile, before glancing back over at Clint with a subtle look that Tony recognized, which meant something hilarious would be happening soon.

Sure enough, just as Tony had finished filling his mug with coffee, Clint’s phone started ringing. Clint jumped, because he was a terrible spy, and dug it out from where it was buried in the couch cushions, frowning at the caller ID.

“Nat?” A second later Clint was wincing, and Tony thought he heard faint sounds of Russian coming down the line. “What? No… I don’t… What? What coffee? No, I… I didn’t stand you up! I never messaged you! Why would I meet you for coffee in Bed-Stuy?”

Tony couldn’t help wincing a little in sympathy, because he’d probably be terrified if he’d stood up Nat too. But also, watching Clint flail around, and the way he kept ducking like he was expecting Nat to come flying through the window at him, was a little hilarious. And the way Steve was carefully trying to not pay attention, chewing at his lower lip in a fight to keep from smiling as he looked out towards the window and pretended he wasn’t listening in on Clint’s conversation, made it hard for Tony to really feel that bad about it.

Five minutes of Clint frantically trying to explain later, and Clint was hanging up the phone, looking decidedly frazzled. “What the fuck,” he breathed, in the tone of voice of a man who had just survived a near death experience. He started scrolling through his phone, frowning down at the screen.

“Uh… What was that about?” Tony asked, because it looked like Steve was dying to.

“Nat’s pissed at me for standing her up, but I didn’t even know we were meeting for coffee?” It came out as a frantic question, Clint looking perplexed. “She said I texted her for a coffee date, and that we were supposed to meet at two, but I haven’t talked to her since yesterday.” He shook his head, still staring at his phone. “There’s not even a message here.”

“Huh,” Steve said, still acting like he was only half interested. “Weird.”

Clint nodded. “It’s like…” He trailed off, eyes widening in realization. “It’s a prank! I think someone hacked my phone!”

Tony couldn’t help snorting a little. “Using the regular applications on your phone isn’t exactly what you would call hacking,” he pointed out, getting a glare in return.

“Fine,” Clint retorted snottily. “Someone used my phone without my permission. I forgot it here for a couple hours, and…” His eyes grew even wider, and he pointed across the room at Steve. “You! It was you!”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?” he choked out. “Why would it be me?”

“You were here! You were here when I left, and you were here when I got back this afternoon,” Clint was insisting, voice cracking a little in excitement. “Oh my god, has it been you this entire time??”

“Uhhh.”

“Relax, Legolas,” Tony cut in before Steve could give himself away based solely on the guilty expression he was wearing. “It wasn’t Steve. I mean, it’s Steve,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes when Steve looked a little affronted at that. “Come on. And anyway, he was with me most of the afternoon. I had some ideas for a new stealth suit we were trying out.”

Clint blinked at him, visibly deflating. “Really?”

“Really,” Tony confirmed, finally chancing a glance over at Steve, who was nodding in agreement.

“Sorry, Clint,” he offered. “I left right after you did.”

“Aww, pranks,” Clint mumbled, staring down at his phone.

“Here.” Tony clapped his hands, and Clint him his phone on instinct. “Let me take a look.” He fiddled with the phone for a few minutes, mostly entertaining himself by going through Clint’s browser history. “Yeah, looks like you have some deleted texts. Sent between 3:02 and 3:18.”

Clint’s eyes narrowed again as Tony tossed him the phone back. “That’s when Sam gets back from the gym,” he breathed, looking like he was already thinking up ways to get him back. “That fucker.”

Tony smirked to himself. “And on that note, gentlemen, I’ve got some highly volatile experimental stuff to get back to. If I leave it too long there could be chaos… explosions… All the fun stuff. I’ll see you around.”

He’d half expected Steve to just pretend the entire thing hadn’t happened. Still, he wasn’t exactly surprised when he’d barely made it down the hall before he was jogging after him.

“Hey Tony! Tony, wait up. I, uh… Wanted to ask you something?”

“Oh yeah?” Tony turned, arching an eyebrow at him. “What about?”

Steve met his gaze steadily. “The new stealth suit. I had a few more thoughts.”

Tony gestured lazily down the hall. “Well then, walk with me Cap.”

Steve didn’t actually speak until they were safely down in the workshop, fiddling with some of Tony’s spare machinery by the door while Tony made his way over to his latest project. When Steve still hadn’t spoken, Tony looked over to find Steve watching him like Tony was a puzzle for him to figure out. It made Tony shiver a little.

“You know, don’t you?”

Tony blinked. “Know what?” he asked, smiling sweetly back at him.

Steve half laughed and half groaned, sinking into one of the couches and covering his face with his hand. He squinted over at Tony, wry smile in place. “How long?”

“How long what?” Tony asked, unable to resist teasing Steve when he was getting that adorable, half-embarrassed response. “Oh, how long have I known that you’ve been the menace trolling the entire tower?” He shrugged. “You know, not long. Just a few… months.”

Steve groaned again, flopping back against the couch with a sigh. “It was the paperwork, wasn’t?”

Tony couldn’t help laughing. “Form BB-107, Rogers? Really? You’re not exactly subtle.”

Steve was laughing too. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Tony shrugged, feeling suddenly flustered, and turned back to the table, bringing up holograms and avoiding Steve’s eye. “Well, you know. It was kind of fun knowing something that no one else had picked up on. And I don’t know. it brightened up my day, sometimes, watching you mess with people. And, uh… It seemed to make you happy, so…” He trailed off awkwardly.

There was silence for a long minute, Steve not saying anything at all, and Tony could only take it for so long. He chanced a glance back over at Steve to find him watching him with a speculative look, a slow smile crossing his lips.

“You didn’t say anything because it made me happy?” he asked quietly.

“Well sure, when you say it like that I sound creepy,” Tony grumbled.

“No,” Steve said quickly. “No, not creepy. Not creepy at all.” He got up, moving toward him until he was leaning against the table beside Tony, elbows and forearms touching. “That’s… Really nice, actually. Thank you.”

Tony snorted at that, trying not to smile at the table. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Steve. I know how rough it was for you, with the whole ice capades interlude.” He looked back up at Steve with a wink. “I hereby give you permission to do whatever you need to to make yourself happy.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that, but he looked pleased at the same time, and, feeling pretty pleased himself, Tony turned back to his work again, Steve a steady, reassuring presence at his side.

“I, uh…”

Steve sounded hesitant, and Tony looked over at him, finding Steve chewing nervously at his lower lip but with a determined look on his face.

“I noticed you looking at me sometimes,” Steve admitted. “I thought…”

“Thought what?” Tony’s eyes caught Steve’s, the two of them staring at each other for a minute too long before Steve shook his head, blowing out a soft breath.

“God, tell me if I’m reading this wrong,”he breathed, and before Tony could say anything else, Steve’s big hand was curling around the back of his neck. Tony blinked at him, shocked silent, but when Steve leaned in, Tony didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them. It was probably a little too fast, considering the way their lips bumped together, but Steve just made a surprised, happy sound and then they were kissing, and it was even better than Tony had imagined kissing Steve would be. He couldn’t stop his hands from sliding around his back, digging into thick muscles as Steve’s grip tightened on his neck.

“Fuck,” Tony breathed when they broke apart for air. He pressed his forehead to Steve’s shoulder, body feeling weak and giddy. “Definitely not reading that wrong, Steve, oh my god.”

Steve laughed, sounding as giddy as Tony felt. His thumb was rubbing distractingly at the back of Tony’s neck. “Good,” he said, voice just a little rough. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Tony grinned, absurdly pleased at that, and lifted his head to meet Steve’s gaze again. He traced his finger along Steve’s lower lip, shivering when Steve’s tongue flicked out against the pad. “Does this mean you want to go out with me?”

He earned an eyeroll with that, but Steve was grinning widely, no trace of exasperation. “Tony, I’ve been daydreaming about going out with your ages. Yes, I definitely want to go out with you.”

Tony laughed, delighted, and then Steve was kissing him again, tightening his grip on Tony to pull him in close until he was practically sitting in Steve’s lap. Tony wasn’t complaining in the slightest; Steve was an incredible kisser, and being as close as possible sounded like a very good thing - especially with Steve’s fingers pressing bruises into his skin.

They kissed until they both had to breathe again and pulled back, panting slightly. Steve ginned at him, flicking teasingly at one of the curls falling over Tony’s forehead. “Hi Shellhead,” he said softly, and Tony beamed back at him.

“Hey yourself, Winghead,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s lip. He sighed softly. “You know, the one downside here… We’re going have to tell the rest of the team, and they will be absolutely impossible to live with.”

Steve chucked ruefully, and then stopped just as abruptly, a glint that Tony recognized all to well coming into his eyes. “I mean, we could tell the rest of the team…”

He trailed off and Tony found himself grinning because God, he loved this giant, childish troll. “Or…?”

Steve beamed at him, trailing his fingers up and down Tony’s spine. “How do you feel about becoming my partner in crime?”

#my fic #steve x tony #steve/tony #steve rogers #tony stark #steve rogers is a troll #pure fluff #stony

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squishysvt · 7 years

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If I’m Lucky - Ch.2`You

Member: Ten (NCT) Word Count: 1,459 Genre: ????? A/N im in me mum’s car beep beep -Admin Ay Warnings: profanity

Ch.1`Ten ~ Ch.2`You ~ Ch.3`Ten ~ Ch.4`You ~ Ch.5`Ten

“Is everything alright?”

A policeman asked as he stood next to a tall boy who seemed to be out of breath from running. The two boys nodded to each other, it seeming as if they knew each other.

You hummed indifferently, all of your attention on the boy that saved you. He had many piercings in his ears, and his frame was petite, opposite of his taller friend. Judging from how he last reacted to being called little though, he didn’t like it being pointed out.

“Yeah, they didn’t put up much of a fight, thank God. I was a little scared.” The boy chuckled as he addressed both his friend and the officer. He held a charismatic front, but his smile and the way he was before contradicted, intriguing you. Sure, people could act fake, but the way this boy did it was so well crafted that it made him seem genuine.

The officer nodded, strolling back to wherever he was dragged from.

“So, what’s your name?” The tall friend asked, eyebrow quirked.

“Y/N,” you answered, “And you?” You reflected his facial expression back to him.

“I’m Johnny.”

Johnny smiled as he extended his arm towards you. Half-heartedly, you grabbed his hand and shook it. Johnny seemed really nice, but the shorter guy next to you was taking most of your attention.

“Who are you?” You quickly turned towards the man in question.

He smirked, “My name is Ten.” Unlike Johnny, Ten had made no movement to try and greet you. His hands were shoved into his pockets, only deciding to nod towards you. This was probably the second time his personality had changed in front of you. The viciousness towards the two thugs, the charm towards the officer, and the aloofness towards you were subtly different. You would have to squint in order to see it.

It was sort of hot.

You could feel Johnny’s judging eyes digging into your soul, making you feel very self-conscious about they way you were looking Ten up and down. Now was not the time to check out the mysterious stranger that saved you from a couple of thugs, anyway. You pulled your phone out of your pocket to check the time.

“Shit, I’m gonna be late for my lecture. Thanks for the help, Ten, Johnny.”

“Ah, so are you a student at NCT University? We were actually on our way to our classes too.”

You tilted your head slightly. You don’t remember seeing the two boys around campus before. NCT University was fairly big though, so it didn’t really surprise you that you have not crossed paths.

“Oh, cool. But I’m like...really late so I’m gonna have to hurry. See you guys around, bye!”

As much as you would have liked to casually stroll to campus with Ten and Johnny, you also skipped your past two classes and you didn’t really want to get behind. The teacher was also one of those asses that actually checked attendance and took points for not being there. Before you could break down on the spot about the inevitable failure of your classes and life in result, you pivoted from the two boys towards the direction of your university and power-walked away.

“Dude, how much you wanna bet she was into you?”

“Shut up.”

You nearly choked when you caught wind of what Johnny had said, probably thinking that you were too far out of range to hear him. You could only imagine the aggressive way Johnny nudged Ten as he wiggled his eyebrows in your direction. God, were you that obvious?

You had managed to make it to your first class, and the rest of your day had been pretty uneventful besides the few times you had spotted Ten’s familiar frame around campus. Most of your classes were usually bland, but something about today’s had you restless. Sitting down had started to become severely unappealing as time went on. Rather than staying in your shared apartment and being surrounded by your loud roommates and becoming more irritated than you already were, you decided to go on a walk.

The sun had well set and the area was unusually quiet for a college neighborhood. On any other night the streets would be littered with drunken students with the sounds of screaming and loud-enough-to-turn-you-deaf music pulsing in the background. Instead, trashbags blew in the wind accompanied with the occasional passing of a car. Any other person would be unsettled by the change in scenery but you couldn’t help but sigh in contentment with it all. It felt good to take a break from the predictable and stress-inducing lifestyle that school brought on.

You started to get tired of walking and spotted a convenience store across the street. You looked both ways before crossing, and thought you had seen Ten round the corner. It was strange how much he occupied your thoughts now. Had it been the day before, he probably would have just been categorized as another blurred face in your brain, insignificant in your everyday life.

As you walked out of the store with a bottle of soda and a bag of chips (which you thought was overpriced considering that you felt the chips only filled up about a third of the bag) in hand, you decided to sit on a nearby bench as you ate. Nothing really went through your head as you munched on your snacks. You observed your reflection in the window of an antique shop opposite of you since there wasn’t much else to look at.

You quickly finished your bag of chips and soda, leaving you with no other reason to stay. You groaned as you picked yourself up from the bench. It took a lot to keep from just curling up and closing your eyes on the side of the street to bask in the sweet solitude of the night. However, you knew better than to stay defenseless in the dark remembering what had happened earlier in the morning.

While trudging back to your flat you ran over the events of your day. The day started off with you positively sleeping through five of your alarms after your good night’s two hour sleep, causing you to skip out on your usual large breakfast of a hot cup of black tea and half of a bagel. On top of your healthy amount of sleep and food intake that would definitely have lasted you throughout your lectures, you were cornered by two large men that just would not leave you alone. The only positive events that had happened in the course of 24 hours were the start of a new season of your favorite show, Ten, treating yourself to a milkshake from McDonalds, Ten, and having a relatively light amount of work being assigned to you for the day. Oh, and meeting Ten.

“Ow, jeez.”

You were knocked, literally, out of your thoughts as you bumped into a man’s figure rounding the corner. It took a moment for you to ground yourself and for your eyes to focus, but when you did, it didn’t take you long to realize who it was you ran into.

“Shit, Johnny? I’m sorry!”

“Y/N? Hey! Why are you out so late?”

You smiled at Johnny’s familiar face, thankful that you hadn’t managed to run into trouble once again today.

“Didn’t feel like staying inside. I just got back from the convenience store. How about you? Not getting into anything illegal are we?” You smirked as you nudged Johnny in the ribs.

“Nah, I was about to go to the store too,” Johnny chuckled.

“Ah, well go ahead. I’m on my way back to my apartment.”

“I’ll walk you back.”

“It’s literally a block away, chill. I know I’m pretty but don’t get obsessed.”

Johnny laughed again. Johnny humored your teasing and appeared to be a pretty nice guy. So this was the type of people Ten surrounded himself with.

“Fine, but if you get snatched off the streets it isn’t my fault. Let’s exchange numbers just in case something happens.” Johnny poked back at you, dragging out the “just” for emphasis.

“Haha, sure bud,” you unlocked your phone and handed it to Johnny to put his number in, “I trust you enough to not fuck with anything.” After taking longer than expected to enter his contact information in, he handed it back, winking.

“I also put Ten’s number in there just in case you need it,” Johnny said, once again dragging out the “just”. Wiggling his fingers in some form of a wave, Johnny skipped away, uselessly long legs and all.

You huffed.

“Trust revoked, bitch!”

All you could hear was the wheezing of the brunette as you stomped back home.

#nct u scenarios #nct u #nct ten #ten #ten au #nct au #ten scenarios #nct scenarios #gang au #nct ten fanfiction #Admin Ay

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kailpizzas · 6 years

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Radical Honesty

Well, if I’m going to do the whole radical honesty thing rather than slowly fade away from logging my actions to get the whole picture, the past 48 hours is a great example of that. (tw for disordered eating, vomiting)

[I’m gonna take a moment here to analyze and add some perspective/introspection to what I wrote below. What’s in the brackets here is written AFTER my 48 hour hellfest. First, as I write these things down and really think about it, it’s not “that” much. My Mcdonald was probably less than 800 calories and the dunkin sandwich is less than 600 (because I don’t eat the egg) (also just learned they have a wake up wrap version that’s only 250 calories!!). But it’s the feelings behind it. It’s the way I’m taking my stress out on myself and putting myself further down than I already put myself down. It’s about feeling even more like I’m spinning out of control so I might as well keep spinning. I don’t know. I hate how I can’t get a handle on it. I know how desperately I need to eat healthy and lose weight (for my liver, not for societal beauty standards), but I have no self control. I have no will to not do this to myself. I think once the insurance at my new job kicks in I’ll look to see if there’s any sort of outpatient stuff I can do but... In the mean time, if anyone has struggled with this and has any tips/resources, please reach out to me. And along with that, if anyone has advice on how their partner might be able to be supportive, let me know too. But more on that at another point.]

Up until Wednesday I was doing just fine. Tuesday night was rough. I finally went to a dermatologist and was diagnosed with psoriasis, tried to pick up the medicine they prescribed and was told that my health insurance was expired. I was really upset and flipping out, pulled into a Dunkin Donuts about to buy food and managed to stop myself from going in, and pulled out and went home. Victory! Avacado toast for everyone.

It didn’t last long. By the next morning, I had a very disheartening email about health insurance stuff, bought a sandwich at dunkin, and promptly puked it up upon arrival at work. Managed to stick to my lunch that I brought from home for lunch, but as we got into the afternoon I got reamed out by the director of an organization I’m on and lost a lot of work time talking to them. I felt like shit, so naturally I got mcdonalds, scarfed most of it down on my ride home, and puked it up. Went to my meeting, had a nice brownie, and my partner had Chinese food for us for dinner when I got back (she did not know about the McD’s). Managed to not eat a lot of it (and the chicken was breaded which I didn’t expect and was able to be like “nope, not what I wanted, not gonna eat it) and had a few beef sticks and a bit less than a cup of rice.

Today I had to pick up my taxes, which takes me past my favorite bagel place that is otherwise out of the way so intentionally was going to let myself go. I even filled my thermos with water so I wouldn’t get juice or milk or coffee #nailedit. Work started out ok, but our nonprofit is connected to a food shelter and when the food for it is about to expire, they offer it to us (because they can no longer give it out). It’s only my 3rd week, so I didn’t know this and was unprepared. So half a chocolate croissant and two girl scout cookies later...

After work I had to head to a volunteer thing I do, so naturally scarfed down a dunkin sandwich (DO YOU SEE A THEME PEOPLE? THE THEME IS BROWN SUGAR CHIPOTLE BACON AND CHEESE ON A CROISSANT) (sidenote: since I don’t like the egg, many time I manage to fold everything into just half the croissant.) and a chai. Managed to not puke that up.

After, one of the people I volunteered with was going to go to the gym with me, but ME being ME I stop at quick chek on the way, get a sub and chips, eat half of it all, and hate myself for the entire 45 minutes we spend at the gym. Tried puking it up, only got a bit. On the way home, stopped at another quick chek, tried to puke a bit more, and then got a vitamin water zero and a small pack of sour patch watermelons.

So yeah, not been great.

#tw ed #tw binge eating #tw bulemia #kailpizzassays

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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Nuts.com Fills the Snack-Shaped Hole in My Heart

Background: Foxys Graphic/Shutterstock

An ode to the hilariously simple website that never judges my snacking habits

On my first visit to Eater’s New York office, where I was interviewing for this job, I made a point of trying to find the kitchen as I wandered the halls looking for the conference room I’d been told to wait in. I needed to know what kinds of snacks my potential employer offered. If I got the job, would I have access to unlimited granola bars? A coffee machine that whipped up lattes and cortados? Those terrible CBD-spiked seltzers with the good branding? Or would it be more along the lines of stale banana chips, single-serving bags of peanuts?

I never did find Eater’s snack trove. By the time I’d come on as a writer, the country was in the grips of a pandemic, we were all working remotely, and I was back in California to weather the storm.

At my previous job we’d place our snack order about once a month. Over Slack, our office manager would send the message I looked forward to more than pretty much any other: “SNACK TIME!” Our entire office descended on the group chat with the intensity of kindergarteners released at recess. Everyone in the office had their favorite (and least favorite) snack, and a curious soul always added some unfamiliar and unpromising new addition to our growing shopping list. These missteps didn’t cost us much, though, because we ordered this bounty from Nuts.com, a plain, practical website, where one can stock up on an ungodly amount of trail mix, beef jerky, and chocolate-covered almonds without breaking the bank or being weighed down with nutritional claims and shiny packaging. Once the order came, all the snacks packed in the same Nuts.com-branded zipper bags, we’d crowd around the dedicated snacking table and plunge our hands into the bags like hungry children.

It’s nice to taste some of these flavors again, to crunch down on the weird airy green beans that remind me of an office full of people.

Following the Great Unboxing was at least a week of back-and-forth berating of each other’s snack choices. Who in their right mind could — and actually would — choke down an entire jumbo case of Fig Newtons? What would possibly compel someone to house a family-size bag of salt and vinegar chips, so defeatingly salty that the eater’s lips crack and wrinkle like dehydrating plums? We hated each other’s snacking tastes with a passion. These moments of lovingly hurled disgust and indignation punctuated and enlivened even the most monotonous of work days.

Some days I miss this constant snacking even more than I miss dining out or going to a bar. It’s not that any one snack is unavailable to me now, or that the snacks in our monthly order were that special. But standing around a table piled high with bags of this and that, pecking at them like New York pigeons feels like a pleasure of the past now; it just isn’t something I see happening again for a long, long time. Especially not with the fear that grips me at the very thought of sharing a bag of popcorn, or the reality that it will be months before many of us make our way back into offices. Even seeing scenes of office life on TV and in movies makes me squirm in discomfort.

Spurred by nostalgia and a truly unexplainable craving for the same banana chips I’ve turned my nose up at on many occasions, I recently made my first visit to Nuts.com since joining the ranks of the nation’s WFH employees. The site’s design is as bare as ever, though my browsing did lead me to the company’s founding story, that of Poppy Sol, who sold dried nuts and fruit in a New Jersey open air market beginning in the late 1920s. (Thanks for everything, Poppy.)

Beyond this little look behind the curtains of the trusty snack provider, all was as I remembered: There’s no glitzy branding obscuring my search for new nibbles. Though the need for party-size snacks is low right now, one can still find a bargain on 30 pounds of raisins, or score a 10-pound bag of garlic bagel chips. I scrolled past all the items I’d unsuccessfully lobbied coworkers not to add to our cart — chocolate covered cherries (sweet like cough syrup, no good), organic fruit juice-flavored gummy bears (truly what is the point), and caramel coated popcorn (ordinarily perfect, terrible from this purveyor) — and went for the few snacks that colored my pre-pandemic work life: weird little nubs of half-popped popcorn that always cut the roof of my mouth, a huge bag of sticky-sweet medjool dates, fried green bean chips as brittle and snappy as kindling.

The familiar box showed up at my door a week later, my assortment of snacks rattling around inside. With the plastic bags laid out on my counter, I reignited a before-times ritual, going back and forth with regularity between desk (my dining room table) and snack counter (the only counter in my home). It’s nice to taste some of these flavors again, to crunch down on the weird airy green beans that remind me of an office full of people.

But clicking back to Nuts.com — now prominently bookmarked on my computer — I don’t gravitate to the snacks that I like. I scroll mindlessly through the many chips, candies, and dried fruits that I remain convinced no reasonable human would buy. The technicolor jumble of gummy candies shaped like slices of orange and lemon. The twisting cheddar cheese sticks one of my coworkers consumed in bulk. Rye bagel chips, dusted with a seasoning that is at first perfect, and moments later disturbing as the taste clings to every corner of your mouth. I’m not sentimental enough to really believe that if I just eat the office snacks of yesteryear, I’ll suddenly be transported back to the good ol’ days like Anton Ego tasting a nostalgia-inducing dish in Ratatouille. I don’t even know if I’ll put in another snack order, since a corner store down the street sells most of my favorites. Mostly, I’m content just strolling the undecorated virtual walls of Nuts.com, taking stock of all the snacks I’ll be sure to avoid once more when a coworker eventually — someday — passes them to me.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/33AwBDi https://ift.tt/2Rwjptv

Background: Foxys Graphic/Shutterstock

An ode to the hilariously simple website that never judges my snacking habits

It’s nice to taste some of these flavors again, to crunch down on the weird airy green beans that remind me of an office full of people.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/33AwBDi via Blogger https://ift.tt/32AnTG6

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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topfygad · 5 years

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The Best Foods To Eat In Montreal In 2019 (And The Best Montreal Restaurants To Eat Them At)

From bagels fresh from the oven, to warming pho and poutine with a twist, find out the best foods to eat in Montreal, and the restaurants to add to your hit list.

Oh look – I’ve been eating my way around another destination. It’s become quite the habit of mine! It’s all in the name of research though, so I can pass on some top tips to you guys, and encourage you to go on your own culinary adventures.

When it comes to food, Montreal has a reputation for being one of the best cities in Canada. There’s the fabulous mix of French and Canadian cuisine, plus plenty of multicultural dynamics, with Vietnamese, Mexican and Middle Eastern restaurants all making their mark.

There are stylish Montreal restaurants with Instagrammable décor, food markets to buy Quebecois ingredients, plus places deserving of several Michelin stars, if the rating system was present in Canada.

Old Montreal

Montreal is a city that takes eating out seriously. In fact, after New York, it has more restaurants per capita than any other city in North America. It’s a city I’d 100% recommend you eat your way around, sampling a little bit of everything along your journey. So, take a look at the video, then scroll down to see a few of the best foods to eat in Montreal right now!

The Best Bagels In Montreal – Fairmount Bagel At Crew Collective

Firstly, Crew Collective is an incredible place to stop for a coffee and a bite to eat. Housed in an old bank, you’ll find the counter area located where the tellers once were. The building is full of opulence, with high ceilings and grand staircases. It’s part café / part workspace too (hello dream freelance office!)

Crew Collective, Montreal

Secondly, Crew Collective serves up great coffee and bagels. I went for the Fairmount bagel, which was served with smoked sockeye salmon, cream cheese, capers, pickled shallots and fresh herbs. Photogenic and tasty, Crew Collective was a great place to soak up the relaxed Montreal vibes too.

Fairmount Bagel at Crew Collective, Montreal

The Best Pho In Montreal – I Am Pho

There’s a huge Vietnamese population in Montreal. In fact, a lot of the restaurants in Chinatown are actually run by Vietnamese people. It’s a cuisine I absolutely adore. It’s so fresh and flavoursome, with its mix of raw and cooked ingredients, and kicks of chilli and lime.

After a day of snowy adventures on Mount Royal, we headed back to downtown in search of a warming bowl of pho. I Am Pho had excellent reviews, and we couldn’t wait to try it out. After some tasty summer rolls, we both enjoyed a huge bowl of beef pho, which came with all the extras, including lime, beansprouts and fresh lime and basil. It was more than either of us could manage, but it certainly revived us after our busy morning playing in the snow.

Pho at I Am Pho, Montreal

The Best Wine Bar In Montreal – Pullman

A few locals recommended we check out Pullman – a Montreal wine bar, which takes its food just as seriously. It’s a cosy spot, lit by a few flickering candles. There’s an enormous wine list, which at first was overwhelming to flick through, but thankfully the staff were happy to guide us to a bottle that suited our mood and palette.

The food was great too. They serve a menu of small plates, perfect for sharing, with local ingredients like Quebec cheese, and tasty combinations like beets with buttermilk and herbs. Our favourite dishes were the tuna tiradito, venison tartare, and the local cheese board.

Top Tip: If you’d love to try some great wines but often feel restricted by budgets, visit Pullman on a Sunday. The entire wine list is half price, so you can try some bottles that might otherwise have been out of your price range.

Walking by the clock tower in Montreal

The Best Smoked Meat Sandwich In Montreal – Main Deli

Did you even go to Montreal if you didn’t try a smoked meat sandwich?! This is one of the city’s most iconic foods, and one you should definitely try on your first trip to the city. Montreal smoked meat is made from brisket, then layered up and stuffed between two slices of rye bread with a squirt of yellow mustard for extra flavour.

While everyone will tell you to go to Schwartz’s Deli on Saint-Laurent Boulevard (sometimes there’s a queue out of the door!) we’d had it on good authority that the sandwich at Main Deli opposite was better. It’s not a refined or pretty dish, but that meat sure is tasty.

Smoked meat sandwich at Main Deli, Montreal

The Best Peruvian Food In Montreal – Tiradito

Located close to Place d’Armes, Tiradito is a great spot for times when you fancy a cocktail and a bite to eat in a buzzy environment. It’s a trendy spot, with red neon lights and a young professional clientele.

The passion fruit sour (a twist on the Peruvian pisco sour) was absolutely delicious – sweet, tangy and oh so boozy! Meanwhile, the food was colourful and elegantly presented too. The tuna tiradito was a huge triumph, along with the crab tostadas. I could have happily eaten my way through the entire menu!

Toastadas at Tiradito, Montreal

Cocktails at Tiradito, Montreal

The Best Restaurant With A View Of Montreal – Les Enfants Terribles

We visited Les Enfants Terribles on our final evening in Montreal, and it felt like the perfect spot to reflect on our time in the city. They have a few restaurants around the city, but the star of the show is their 44th floor venue in Place Ville Marie. It’s one of the tallest buildings in the city, and THE place to enjoy lunch or dinner with a view of the city.

In London, restaurants with views as good as this one would come with an enormous price tag. However, the food and drinks at Les Enfants Terribles are surprisingly reasonable, for example mains are between £10-£15. Food was good, although I think this is somewhere you come more to enjoy the experience and the twinkly city lights than anything else!

Dinner at Les Enfants Terribles, Montreal

The Best Value Steak Frites In Montreal – Brasserie T

Have you heard of Toque! – one of the best restaurants in Montreal? Well, Brasserie T is its less formal sister restaurant. The ethos is the same though, so expect great ingredients and chefs who know how to really work some magic in the kitchen.

We enjoyed salmon tartare and steak frites, washed down with some delicious red wine. I thought the steak was excellent; juicy, medium rare as requested and served alongside a mountain of perfectly cooked chips. The restaurant was a nice weekend spot, with the buzz of a Parisian brasserie!

Brasserie T, Montreal

Steak frites at Brasserie T, Montreal

The Best Trendy Bar In Montreal – Bar Furco

After dinner one night we were looking for somewhere to go for a drink. Someone recommend we check out Bar Furco, a local bar, housed in a former fur factory. Along with all the usual drinks, Furco has an interesting cocktail list, plus craft beers and organic wines.

We visited on a Saturday night, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the eclectic crowd, which included students in their early 20s, couples in their 50s, and a few big groups of girls in their 30s. There was also a DJ spinning some tunes, creating a bit of a party vibe to welcome in the weekend.

Bar Furco, Montreal

READ MORE: Top Things To Do In Montreal In Winter

The Best Vegan Food In Montreal – LOV

If you’re vegan or vegetarian, this is one of the best places to eat in Montreal! While most restaurants in Montreal cater for both, LOV was the only place we visited that was dedicated to the cuisine.

We visited the branch in Golden Square Mile, which is beautifully stylish with giant lampshades hanging from the ceiling and plush booths in green and white stripes. The ladies toilets even had a mini urban garden, with a plant growing out of an unused toilet!

The menu at LOV is great fun too, with lots of choice including pasta, tacos, pho, salads, burgers, banh mi and even a vegan poutine. Is it the best poutine in Montreal? Nope, but it’s not far off! Well, when in Quebec…!

Vegan poutine at LOV, Montreal

LOV, Montreal

The Best Poke In Montreal – Le Poke Bar

We rocked up at Le Poke Bar after an intense travel day. Long haul flight + 5 hour time difference + a packed day in the city… we were tired, had eaten lots of carbs and were craving something healthy and delicious.

We were so happy to stumble upon Le Poke Bar. They have several poke bowls on the menu, or you can build your own (as we did). We enjoyed a salmon, kale, edamame and rice creation, which was super fresh and tasty. It was massive too, so if you’re visiting as a couple, I’d recommend ordering one to share.

Le Poke Bar

The Best Coffee In Montreal – Nous Sommes Café

This is a tough category to judge based on my experiences in the city, as other than a watery Tim Hortons when we were in a hurry, we had a lot of excellent coffee in Montreal.

My favourites were at Pigeon, L’Editeur and Nous Sommes Café. The latter is run by a lovely guy from South Korea, and located in the colourful Plateau neighbourhood. The coffee was great, décor was simple and the metallic cups were next level cool – just check out those reflections!

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A post shared by NOUS SOMMES CAFE (@noussommes.cafe) on Nov 16, 2018 at 5:17pm PST

The Best Burger In Montreal – Verses Bistro

After a morning at Bota Bota (Montreal’s spa boat) we were ravenous and in need of big feed! Verses Bistro is a charming spot in Old Montreal, serving up a reasonably priced and varied menu.

The burgers were excellent, stuffed with bacon, brie, pickles and salad. Plus the portion was enormous – I mean, I actually had to admit defeat (which is very rare!)

Burger at Verses Bistro, Montreal

The Best Restaurants In Montreal… to be continued!

And finally – while I feel like I ate my way around Montreal, there are plenty of restaurants I’d book a flight back to try! It’s a city made for food lovers, so if you get the chance, try these and let me know how they are…

Pastel – Innovative tasting menus from top chef Jason Morris.

Europea – A Theatrical culinary odyssey that you’ll never forget (think Heston Blumenthal, but Canadian!)

Monarque – Seasonal ingredients, interesting menus and a great space, complete with a view of the kitchen.

Un Po’ di Più – Exceptional Italian food in a relaxed setting in Montreal’s old town.

Toque! – No.2 on Canada’s 100 Best Restaurants 2018, Toque! takes fine dining to the next level.

Elena – Sleek Italian serving some of the best pizzas in Montreal.

Dinette Triple Crown – Authentic Southern BBQ. They’ll even pack your food into a picnic basket so you can take it to the park!

Macro – One of the best seafood restaurants in Montreal.

Le Blueboy – Playful ice creams for the biggest kid you know.

Finally, if you want to learn more about the city’s cuisine, I’d recommend taking a Montreal food tour. We really enjoyed the one we did with Local Montreal Food Tours, which introduced us to some great restaurants in Montreal Old Town.

I hope you’ve enjoyed eating your way (virtually) around Montreal with me! Big thanks to Destination Canada, Quebec Original and Tourisme Montreal for inviting us to explore this beautiful city. Lots of great info on their sites if you want to find out more. As always, all opinions are my own.

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The post The Best Foods To Eat In Montreal In 2019 (And The Best Montreal Restaurants To Eat Them At) appeared first on Wanderlust Chloe.

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theolivechickken · 5 years

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Spring Break pt. 1

March 8

Bussed to Salzburg airport, snatched the window seat even though my assigned one was an aisle, and flew EasyJet Airlines out to London Gatwick Airport! When we arrived, we spent a lot of time trying to contact Michaela to see if she wanted to ride the train with us into town. While we were waiting, we stopped inside the convenience store at the airport and picked up some salt and vinegar chips (crisps?) to snack on. She made it to the airport not long after we did, but got caught up in customs and passport check so we wished her luck and hopped on the train to head into the city. Helloooo expensive transportation (and everything else in general). We checked into Safestay at Elephant and Castle and unpacked our bags in our purple room.

Afterwards, we had a late lunch/ early dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant next door. We all ordered chicken pho and drank mango black tea with passionfruit boba. Super cozy for this rainy day. We explored the Asian market connected to the restaurant and I fangirled at any food that I recognized. There was still some light out, so we walked down the street of our hostel to see what was nearby. We ended up turning down East Street Market which was nestled in a black community. Several individuals were closing up their street shops, but a few were still opened for business. Aubree went in to see if she could find some natural hair products for her curly hair. Patrick and I continued down the street and eventually made our way back to the crew. He went on to visit Sharon across the river, so Raine and I stayed with Aubree as she excitedly went in to get her eyebrows threaded for a cheap price. Turns out the lady nearly ripped a chunk of her eyebrow hair out but hopefully it grows back quickly.

It was lightly drizzling outside, but the wind really made the rain fly at all directions. We went back to the hostel to rest and try to decide what we wanted to do for the rest of the night. It was a hoot and a half to find a place that sold oyster cards for public transportation. Finally, we hopped on a double-decker bus and rode it to the CLF Art Cafe. Raine discovered the place via google and was expecting live music/ a DJ with some good night life. But it was pretty dead in the area and the art club was located in a multiple story building tucked in an alley behind scaffolding. I guess we showed up too early but got free admission (??) to the art club lounge/bar area downstairs. We told Patrick to come through and waited around for him to show up. It was cool and lively in the room, and then people started moving furniture around to create a dance floor.

Definitely an interesting scene. I kinda liked that everyone was being weird and dancing to some off-brand 80s inspired synth music, but it wasn’t really the scene we were looking for tonight. Patrick eventually made it, but he couldn’t find the entrance to the place. Aubree went out to look for him and they both got stuck outdoors since you needed a wristband at this point for entry. Raine and I went upstairs to try and hear the kind of music the DJ would be playing, and we ran into two girls coming down the stairs telling us “IT’S SO DEAD DON’T GO but you should totally go in with us.” We had a quick conversation with these fellow Americans and then dipped to find our friends.

Chicken Soup McDonald's for the starving soul. We were on another level of being starving, delusional, and overall confused from the whole night, which lead to us dying of laughter in the McDonald’s and back out on the streets to the bus station. Don’t know why everything was especially funny, but I swear I nearly peed my pants from laughing so hard.

March 9

Why do our roommates hate us? They’re so loud in the morning :(( One guy was trying to pack his bag, and the other was blowdrying his hair IN THE ROOM while we were still trying to sleep. Oh well, I guess it got us to wake up and start our day. Hopped on the tube from Elephant and Castle and took it to Borough. Super excited to stroll through Borough Market for some free samples and street food! I love the hustle and bustle of this big city, and I absolutely love markets. Patrick and I got some hot tea with ginger, and Raine and I got prawn wraps. They did not hold back on the shrimp either. It wasn’t one of those sad seafood wraps where they throw in two pieces of shrimp and call it seafood. NAH. Oodles and oodles of shrimp (with lettuce and sweet-spicy Thai sauce) piled into this warm tortilla heaven. Also got some fresh cherries to share (which reminded me of home and the cherries that my Lola always puts out on the table).

Next, we rode the tube to Buckingham Palace. Our stop was right at Green Park, so we made ourselves comfy on the muddy grass (rip my jeans but I managed to save them by rubbing out the mud with saliva) before walking to the Palace to meet up with Amy and her roommate Victoria. We shared the cherries and sat in the company of some good ol’ Beatles tunes.

AMYYYY wow I missed you. We had fun walking around with our new additions to the squad. At the park, we squared up with a GIANT goose and also saw a majestic swan in the river. We made our way over to Westminster Abbey and Big Ben (but rip Ben since he's under construction till 2021). Aubree and Raine went back towards the hostel to meet up with Ollie and Tom (the Londoners we met in Prague). Meanwhile, Patrick, Amy, Victoria, and I spotted a telephone booth, a guard on horseback, and a police squad investigating a suspicious car. We paused by the London Eye and ventured out to the London Tower and London Bridge. The bridge was really neat! The floor had a section made out of glass, so you could see the traffic driving through underneath. Trippy.

We made our way back to Borough and had dinner at Honest Burger - honestly one of the best burgers and rosemary fries I've ever eaten. We all went back to our own hostels to rest for a bit before going back out to meet Aubree, Raine, Tom, and Ollie at Spoons. Later, Pat and I walked through Chinatown and joined Sharon, birthday girl Madison, and Michaela and her Redlands volleyball friends at O’Neills. Perks of being small at the club: no perks. Just elbows to your face or drinks nearly spilled on you, and you're too short to see anything half the time. All in all though it was a fun night, and then Sharon lost her phone so the mood turned sour. BUT then the girls found her phone since someone turned it in! It was a wild rollercoaster ride. We all walked to the tube and went our separate ways. Our connecting metro was closed, so Pat and I ended up walking the rest of the way to our hostel through the light rain and a quiet neighborhood.

March 10

Aubree and Raine came back to the room at 4am to discover Christmas music being blasted on Pat's phone and me drowning out the sound with my snore. Morning came with a hot mess and a crime scene: we think Pat's phone was stolen by the girl who slept in the bunk above Aubree and checked out early that morning. She also managed to leave her red panties in place of Pat’s phone. Weird flex, but okay. Pat was bummed, but he also handled the situation really well. We still went out to brunch at Spoons with Sharon and tried an English Breakfast. Unpopular opinion but it was kinda bland and sad.

Holy wind batman. Almost Vienna status but not as cold. Pat and I went to the British Museum and literally traveled through time and history. People are amazing and crazy and how did we manage to come so far in such a quick span of time? We viewed so many arts and artifacts in the 3 hours that we were stuck in a time machine. My feet are feeling it man but I'm still out here having a good time.

Took the Tube to Camden Market to meet Aubree, Raine, Matt, Cousin Sam, Jack, Will, and Milky. We went to a bar that had a DOG! And tried the somewhat citrusy Punk IPA. We also went to the Blues Bar for burgers and live music. Had a great time hanging out with this jolly group of guys. At one point, Milky was telling us the story of how he saved his fish that was swimming upside-down. The trick? "I feed my fish peas. But not a whole pea cause that’s too much.” Someone please test this out and let me know if this is true.

March 11

Checked out of Safestay Elephant and Castle and went down the street to Bagel King for breakfast. It’s definitely not not what we thought it would be. The bagels were weirdly fluffy and the cream cheese just didn’t seem right.. But the mango-guava juice was pretty tasty. Patrick and I said our goodbyes to Aubree and Raine, and headed to to the train station. We managed to pool our our coins together for one ticket (how was it exact??? AMAZING luck) and then paid for another with a card. Yay for getting rid of the pounds in my pocket.

Things seemed to be working out, but the train we needed to be on was delayed. Actually, all the trains are delayed??? We rushed to find a platform with a train that would take us towards Gatwick. Hopped on one train which detoured to East Croydon and hoped for the best. The cards were in our favor and the time was too since we had plenty to check in, get through security, and even eat lunch at Nando’s.

Barcelona we're coming for you :)))

So we arrived in the evening and waited around for Pat's bag to finally roll out to baggage claim. Managed to catch the sun setting as we rode the bus into the city. Barcelona makes me feel like I'm back home in LA. Maybe because of the smog, traffic, and large open freeways, or the desert scenery, trees, and beach?

Walked from La Plaza de Catalunya to HelloBCN Hostel. Hello major tourist street with people trying to sell you random souvenirs. Poor Pat has reached his limit. Apparently our hostel reservation never went through. Luckily the reception guy was really cool and they still had two beds open for us to stay for our planned days.

Stressed, but he still had the spirit to go out into the city for some food. We found a casual restaurant nearby that had tapas. Not the dinner I was really expecting, but it was still fun to try some tapas. We had Patatas Bravas (basically french fries with a creamy spicy dipping sauce), chips and guacamole, and Moroccan chicken skewers to share.

#Studying Abroad #Spring Break #London #Salzburg Semester

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pendesvoyage · 5 years

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iTrackBites Update (04 Feb 19)

This lifestyle diet is testing me...

I completely understand the point of this plan. It is changing the way my mind thinks about food. Instead of just saying I can eat 2,000 calories of burgers and still lose weight, this plan is teaching me that fruits, vegetables, and legumes are the foundation of a healthy diet.

But that’s so hard! I want McDonald’s and Snickers and Dairy Queen. Even though I feel like actual poop afterwards. Changing my lifestyle is way harder than just limiting the amount of junk food I eat.

That’s why I believe this plan is actually going to work for me. I want to change the way I eat, not just manage it. If this is going to do that, then I’m on the right track.

I’ve also solidified that I’m not the type to be consistent, so my tracking has become minimal and possibly not as accurate as I wish it were. I’ve stopped putting fruits and veggies in because they’re zero. I wish I would because I like to know how many I eat. I don’t put in drinks; 90% of time I drink water so I never need to, but I’m not putting in any soda or tea. I also don’t really track sauces because...ugh, come on it’s like 2 tbsp of ranch get over it.

Last week, I feel like I was more conscious. I did make a few mistakes but they held a bigger consequence for me than they used to.

*Reminder: my daily allowance is 34 bites, and my weekly is 41.

Sunday: 35 bites

Breakfast - 0 bites

eggs

grapes

Lunch - 13 bites

boneless buffalo wings (SONIC)

Dinner - 22 bites

fries (Red Robin)

grilled chicken sandwich w/ bacon and provolone cheese (Red Robin)

Monday: 31 bites

Breakfast - 3 bites

pepperoni (8 slices)

banana

Lunch - 11 bites

beef and broccoli

macaroni and cheese (great value, thick and creamy, 1/2 box)

Dinner - 17 bites

macaroni and cheese (great value, thick and creamy, 1/2 box)

2 chicken tacos (brown rice, lettuce, tomato, corn salsa)

Tuesday: 36 bites

Breakfast - 11 bites

chicken biscuit (Chick Fil A)

Lunch - 6 bites

celery and peanut butter

cheddar cheese squares

animal crackers (Stauffer’s)

Dinner - 11 bites

burger (1/2 piece whole wheat toast, lettuce, tomato, grilled onion, mayo, ketchup)

fries

Wednesday: 34 bites

Breakfast - 3 bites

turkey sausage patty

eggs

banana

Lunch - N/A

Dinner - 31 bites

pepperoni pizza (Pizza Hut, 3 slices, medium)

alfredo pasta (Pizza Hut, 1/3 tin)

Thursday: 28 bites

Breakfast - 5 bites

Cheeze-Its

Lunch - 1 bite

lightly sauced steamed chicken vegetable stir-fry (Healthy Choice Steamers)

Dinner - 18 bites

chicken strips (Zaxby’s, 3 strips)

fries (Zaxby’s)

Snack - 4 bites

oven-baked sour cream & onion chips (Lay’s)

Friday (my reset day): 64 bites

Breakfast - 5 bites

bagel (w/ butter)

Lunch - N/A

Dinner - 39 bites

chicken sandwich (Chick Fil A)

chicken nuggets (Chick Fil A)

fries (McDonalds)

McNuggets (McDonalds, 10 piece)

(The McDonalds was a late night choice that I instantly regretted.)

Snack - 20 bites

double doozie (Great American Cookie)

glazed donut (Krispy Kreme)

Saturday: 40 bites

Breakfast - 9 bites

pancakes (3 medium)

turkey sausage patty

Lunch - 2 bites

string cheese (Cheese Heads)

Dinner - 5 bites

turkey burger sliders (half bun, lettuce, tomato, cheddar cheese, onion, ketchup, mayo)

Snack - 24 bites

glazed donut (Krispy Kreme)

blueberry ol’ fashioned donut (Krispy Kreme)

popcorn (light butter, microwave)

I just realized I had a lot of burgers this week. I’m a fan of them, and I can customize them (half bun, whole grain bun, lots of veggies, add bacon) according to my point bank.

Man I wish I hadn’t had the McDonald’s. Ugh, I felt so gross. It also ruined what could’ve been a decent week. Even the donuts felt less yucky. I love a good sweet, though.

Here’s to next week.

Lost in dictation,

Jess

#fitness friday #itrackbites #fitness #diet #weight watchers alternative #healthy eating #health #jess pende

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quatschmachen · 7 years

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Fresh Cut Grass

2020 Arc continues

XXXX

It was one of those irritating sounds that slowly bring you to consciousness. Repetitive, droning in the background before it comes to the forefront and you lay there, the sound increasing until it is all you can think about. Grumbling, Étienne reached to the side table, and answered his phone.

“Mlo?”

“Where are you, fucker? I’m standing in your bedroom with bagels and coffee, and you don’t even have the decency to be home to greet me?” Emma’s voice rang loud and clear, “And then I have to spend a half hour trying to get you to answer the phone!? Are you sleeping in someone else’s bed?”

“Hnnn,” Étienne responded, his brain slowly catching up with her words, he rolled onto his back and lazily stretched, the sun beams sneaking past the heavy floral curtain. “Yeahh…”

“Are they there? I want to yell at them too!”

“Emma, no… I am not sleeping with someone, but I am in another’s bed?” Étienne realized he was not making much sense, but he was still waking up. He was sore from the hard labour of yesterday.

“Étienne, where are you?” Emma’s voice was at the end of patience. “Am I standing here in your apartment like an idiot for no real reason?”

“Mmm… well… yes? I’m still in Edmonton.”

“…Why are you still in Edmonton? Weren’t you supposed to get back yesterday?”

“Missed my flight…”

“You still could have caught a different flight back Étienne… wait…” Emma’s voice got softer, “Did you and Ed? Y’know? Make up?”

How she said it, Étienne knew she meant ‘make up’ as in ‘have sex.’

“Yes and no…” Étienne was lazily lolling on the comfortable bed, idly wondering what time it was, and whether breakfast had been made.

He heard movement, which indicated Emma was moving somewhere, and then he heard a soft flompf. “Are you in my living room?”

“Well you aren’t here, so I’m going to eat the food and drink the coffee I so thoughtfully brought you, while you tell me what is going on. Don’t try to fool me Étienne.”

Giving a sigh, Étienne responded, “Yes we have made up, but… Ed is still clearly wrapped up with Calvin. I don’t think we will ever be what we were… not in that way.” He knew that if he tried to fool Emma she would know immediately what he wasn’t saying, and… saying it out loud hurt. It was necessary though…

“Oh,” her voice had softened, “Are you going to be alright?”

“I…” he frowned, reflecting over the past few days, was he going to be alright in this new form of his relationship with Ed? Clearly the other man still cared about him – his thoughts turned to all the food stuffed into his suitcase – and wanted Étienne to still be in his life. Plus… if he were to be honest with himself, talking to Edward again, being able to laugh and joke with him… he had been happier than he had been for a long while. What was sex, really? A different form of intimacy, expressing different feelings, that clearly, Edward did not need from him anymore. Plus it was not like he was going to be living the life of a eunuch anyways, there was a whole world available to him for that need. Edward was able to fulfill other intimate needs that very few people ever could.

“Étienne?” Emma’s voice sounded a little muffled as if she was eating a bagel, reminding him that he had not finished replying.

“Honestly, at this point I will take him anyway he wants to give himself to me, even if it’s communicating through a pager,” he responded, “Thankfully he has decided to communicate with me by constantly feeding me.”

He heard her swallow, “You’re getting three square meals a day at his place?”

“Yup, he even makes me lunch, it’s really adorable-“”

“Holy hell, I need to visit, is his food any good?”

“Oh my god Emma, his cooking is divine!” he gushed, “He made this brownie the other night and me and Calvin ended up duelling to finish it, I am dying of jealousy over the fact he has constant access to this food. Edward has a giant garden, and he is making his own apple chips and jam. If he opened up a store, I would be first in line to buy his food.”

“…would you be mad if I flew right over to eat this food?”

“Emma, you can’t just appear on his doorstep,” Étienne chided. “Look, maybe if you’re real good I’ll share some apple chips with you. He ended up packing a bunch of food in my bag since he thought I was going home.”

“Awww that’s real sweet, are you sure he doesn’t still care about you, Étienne?”

“Emma, people can still care about people without being in love…” he responded in an exasperated manner, hating that her question made his heartbeat pick up in false hope. There was no way that Edward would still harbour such feelings for him… right? He had clearly moved on, built up an entire life without him. A better life without him, anyways, Étienne as well had managed to build a life… build a life around the gaping wound Ed had inflicted when he had left. The wound still had the bad habit of bleeding, but he was getting better at managing to ignore it. It was one of the odd wounds, where Étienne logically could function perfectly well. He had his own life, with many opportunities, many partners. Staying here however… the wound was gushing and he was not sure how to stop it. Leaving, logically, but even then he was unsure if he could staunch the flow.

There was a knock on his door, startling Étienne from his dismal thoughts, and without any further warning, the object of his torment poked his head in, “You awa—oh sorry, I didn’t know you were on the phone.” Ed’s eyes had averted away from Étienne, his cheeks flushing a bright red, and Étienne realized that due to how tired he had been last night he had not bothered to put his pyjamas on… so he was lolling around naked, the blanket twisted between his legs revealing a tan thigh.

Lazily giving Ed a smile, and making no attempt to cover himself (he was finding that fact that Ed kept blushing very intriguing and honestly a major turn on), he waved his hand indicating that Edward could enter the room. Awkwardly Ed shuffled in, but stood close to the door as if he was about to bolt.

“I’m talking to Emma,” he announced.

“Is someone there, Étienne?” Emma asked.

“Ed’s just come in to wake me up,” Étienne explained, “Do you want to say hello?”

This open ended question had Edward and Emma chorusing an awkward hello.

“Just announcing… breakfast is soon…” Ed added, “Uhm I will leave you to your call.”

“Ah no we were just finishing up,” Étienne added to Emma, “I gotta go now, call you back later?”

“Alright, enjoy the breakfast,” Emma grumbled, “Not that I’m jealous or anything.”

“Now, now Emma.” Étienne chided, “Goodbye.” With that he clicked off the phone, and attentively looked towards Edward. “What is for breakfast?”

Edward had been edging back towards the door, “Uh Calvin is making us a hearty farmer’s breakfast… y’know eggs, sausage…” his eyes widened as Étienne tossed the cover off and stood up, fully stretching his body like a lazy cat, his arms above his head, leaving nothing to the imagination. Licking his lips, Ed added, “I’ll let you get dressed.”

Étienne, who was sneaking peeks at Edward, enjoyed the discomfort of the other man, revelling in the fact that he still managed to have some sort of effect, “No need to be shy, it isn’t anything you haven’t seen before, Edward,” he responded as he walked over to his luggage, and dug around for some underwear; finally, he pulled some out triumphantly. Standing up, he looked to Ed – who for some reason, was still lingering at the door watching him, the hungry yet embarrassed expression upon his face. “Oh, I never did thank you,” Étienne was walking towards him, underwear lazily bunched in his hand, not bothering even to put it on at this point.

“T-thank me?” Ed’s voice rasped out, his eyes taking on the expression of a hunted animal, one that regretted not having fled yet.

“Yes…” Étienne stood in front of him, and with his non-underwear hand, he reached out, and gently with the back of his hand, brushed Edward’s cheek as he leant in, their faces an inch apart, eyes finally meeting, “Thank you for the food in my bag, it was very thoughtful.”

Edward looked down, by this point even his nose had joined in turning red, “Oh uh, it- it was nothing…”

“Please don’t call your delicious jam nothing,” Étienne responded, “Anyways, thank you…” and as he said this he gently cupped Edward’s face, turning it up, in order to placidly place a kiss on each cheek. Which was probably a mistake, Étienne realized the second after he had done it. He had simply meant it as a casual thank you kiss on the cheek action, he had done this numerous times before, in many different situations. Firstly, as his lips touched Ed’s cheek, the scent of the other man, one he had known so well, filled his senses, the warm skin sending soft shocks through his lips, and straight down to his toes. Secondly, his action had shocked Edward, who had not been expecting it, gave this small sound which Étienne thought was one of the cutest sounds he had heard in a long time. Thirdly, Edward had worked to turn his face away from the kiss, not realizing that Étienne was aiming for the second cheek, the colliding of these two actions, resulted on the second kiss… not landing on the other cheek, but at that awkward juncture between cheek on mouth, where it’s not exactly upon the cheek, not exactly upon the mouth. Instead his lips pressed against the corner of Ed’s slightly open mouth. When Edward turned his head to ask what Étienne was doing, Étienne in his embarrassment had not moved, meaning that Edward accidentally brushed his lips against Étienne’s, his question of “What are you doing?” resulting in an awkward brushing kiss between them.

Edward jolted away, banging his head on the edge of the door, and his natural reaction pulled his head forward as he smacked his forward against Étienne’s bare shoulder.

“God,” Ed grumbled, his ears tinting red in his embarrassment, but he made no attempt to move his head from Étienne’s shoulder, “Just forget that last awkward... whatever didn’t happen, ok?”

Heart pounding, Étienne feared that his careless teasing might have screwed things up between him and Edward. “Right. Uh, I’ll get dressed now…”

Giving a huff, Ed pulled away, warily eyeing the door, “See you… in five minutes.” Once more he was studiously looking anywhere but Étienne, and he quickly fled the room, firmly closing the door behind him.

“Merde,” Étienne grumbled, as he quickly dressed himself. Being here in Edward’s house had sort of felt like old times, where half of their communication was in harmless flirtation. Had he overstepped a boundary? Edward had been looking very uncomfortable at the end there. Taking in a big breath, Étienne slowly let it out. Just when things seemed to be going fine, he somehow managed to find the secret landmine and explode it on purpose.

XXXX

Calvin was looking way too happy, Étienne decided as he sat down at the kitchen table, taking in the feast laid out before him. No one should look this happy in the morning, he thought, as he pulled the sausages towards himself. Edward was in deep conversation with Calvin, his cheeks still slightly pink. Throughout the meal, Étienne got the sense that Ed was consciously avoiding conversation with him, his attention entirely focused on Calvin. Had he overstepped this morning? Perhaps what he viewed as harmless teasing… was viewed differently by Edward.

It was a relief when Calvin stood up and happily informed Étienne that they were going to clean out the chicken coop. Étienne found himself presented with grungy gardening clothing, which he changed into, someone’s old rain boots, and a large floppy hat, with rubber gloves that went up to his elbow. He found himself standing outside the chicken coop, holding a bucket full of implements, while he watched Calvin gently shepherd the three chickens out into the chicken run.

“Place the bucket down,” Calvin instructed as he locked them away from their coop, and handed Étienne a shovel. “After I take the roosts out, you shovel everything out into that wheelbarrow.”

Due to the time of the morning, the cool of the evening lingered, the sun not yet having reached its zenith. With some interest he watched as Calvin took out the three roosts one by one, and carefully lined them up in the sun.

With a small hand flourish, Calvin waved Étienne into the coop, and with determination not to fuck this up at least, he entered. It had a mixed smell of hay, shit, and something that could only be described as distinctly chicken.

Étienne was no stranger to hard work. While in the current day and age those who did not know him well may assume all he did was have sex and eat bagels, that simply was not the case. A little chicken shit did not scare him, and as he shoveled the hay and dirt into the wheelbarrow he found himself relaxing into the exercise. The task was finished surprisingly quick, and when Calvin asked if he wanted to wipe down the coop, Étienne found himself saying he wouldn’t mind. The mixture was white vinegar and water; with some elbow grease, it took him about ten minutes to properly clean it to his satisfaction. When Calvin poked his head in (after presumably sticking the chicken dirt into the compost), he let out a low whistle.

“Hell, you’re hired, you clean this better than I do.” He smiled over to Étienne, a warm sunny smile that made him feel as if he had achieved something.

“Careful what you say, Calvin,” he responded lightly, as he exited the coop, and place the spray bottle into the bucket, “I might take you up on that.”

Calvin had taken out a different spray and entered the coop. “And here I thought your city was doing better nowadays that you didn’t have to scrimp and save,” his voiced drifted out of the coop as he began to spray it.

“Haha,” Étienne responded, “What are you spraying?”

“Some Poultry Protector, keeps them safe from mites and lice,” he responded. “I got the rest if you want to clean up.”

“I don’t mind finishing the job,” Étienne responded. “Isn’t there some shavings I need to gather?”

“Oh I put them over there,” Calvin had stepped out and was spraying the roosts. “But we need to let everything thoroughly dry out first.” Setting the spray down, Calvin looked over to Étienne, his brow pulled down in thought. “Hey, you seem a little down this morning, did you not have a good sleep?”

“I…” this was the irritating thing about Calvin, Étienne thought, he was too observant for his own good. What was he going to say? Oh well I teased your boyfriend and may have kissed him, and guess what apparently all those feelings I thought were extinct are still alive and well and I desperately miss him? “I had a good sleep, I am fine, maybe not so chipper about cleaning out chicken shit?”

Giving a slightly forced laugh, Calvin responded, “Right, I suppose that makes sense. Look, why don’t you go check in on Ed, he should be finishing up in the kitchen now, I think he’s going to rope us into some gardening…”

Étienne knew that if he said no, that would only raise more questions, so he removed his rubber gloves and placed them in the bucket, and walked back towards the house, having to dodge the chickens who were eagerly waiting for their coop to be prepared for them. Reaching the back door, he was nearly hit by it as Edward swung it open, wearing his own gardening outfit, his hat somehow larger and brimmier than Étienne’s.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Edward asked, as he held out a pair of gardening gloves, “It’s time to be weeding.”

“I was looking for you,” Étienne responded as he took the gloves, making sure to avoid any skin contact with Edward.

“Oh?” Edward was still not meeting his eyes, and somehow, this avoidance twisted the wound inside Étienne. All he could think of was all the times before, where after such a teasing encounter, Edward would be challenging him back, teasing him, driving him insane.

“Calvin sent me.” The conversation felt forced, and he stepped back, pulling the gloves onto his hands.

“Right.” Edward stepped out, and walked towards the garden, holding a pail with various garden implements.

Étienne followed, taking in the scruffy plaid shirt, carefully patched up at the elbows, the jeans more patch than pant, the worn-out sneakers.

“So fortunately for you, things are big enough to easily distinguish between weed and plant,” Edward was explaining, as he indicated the difference anyway, “This should maybe take an hour at most with the three of us. If there are any questions, feel free to ask.”

“Sure. What do I do with the weeds I pull up?”

“Hmn… grab that bucket from over there?” Edward pointed, “Stick it there. We will just add it to the compost after anyway.”

When Étienne returned to the garden, he noticed that Edward had sequestered himself in the corner farthest from him. Probably on purpose, he thought, his heart twisting sadly. Yesterday everything had felt fine, they had been talking… Settling down, he began to pull the weeds, the smell of the earth still fresh from the morning dew. His fingers easily dug into it, tugging the weeds out, the work rhythmic and soothing, unfortunately allowing him too much time with his thoughts. The stalks of corn brushed against his hair, their leaves curling and rough. He was slowly and methodically working forwards, shuffling forward a little after he had successfully pulled out some weeds and placed them in his bucket. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he took a steadying breath. Perhaps he should book a flight out of here, he thought. While the food was delicious, Edward avoiding him… he might as well not even be here. He reached out to pull out a weed, lost in his thoughts, and was startled when someone’s hand clamped on top of his. He looked up, and made a grimace as he realized that Edward was weeding in the row over, and somehow, this one weed was set in the exact spot where they would reach for it.

Edward was looking surprised to even see Étienne there, his eyes slightly glazed as if he had been rudely awoken from a trance.

“Étienne?” he slowly asked, the word slightly thick, however he did not move his hand.

“Right here,” he responded looking through the stalks of corn to the other man’s face.

“Sorry, I didn’t even know…” Edward sighed, a dreamy look as he trailed off, the green leaves partially obscuring him. After a brief moment, he seemed to come to, and turned to look more fully at Étienne, almost searchingly, before saying, “Jeez you’re a slow as fuck weeder. You’re still on the first row?”

“Apparently so,” Étienne cautiously replied. This morning was eating him up, and, conscious that Edward had still not removed his hand, he added in a low tone, “I’m sorry about this morning.”

Edward frowned, this response not at all what he was expecting, “This morning? Oh right. Well you were just thanking me… so? Or do you mean teasing me?”

“…Both?” Confusion was probably the best way to describe him.

A soft smile appeared on Edward’s face, and he gave Étienne’s hand a small squeeze, “Why are you getting worried about that stuff now? A little flirtation never hurt anybody… you’re overthinking things.”

“But you seemed uncomfortable,” Étienne argued.

“Étienne, it’s fine. Trust me. Honestly if you weren’t teasing me a little I would be more worried about you-”

“More?” the word slipped out, and Étienne wished he hadn’t repeated it.

“When am I not?” Edward gave a soft laugh, and pulled his hand away, “Anyways, we should finish this up, we’re going out this afternoon.”

Étienne wanted to know more, what did Edward mean that he constantly worried about him? Did he think so little of him, just imagine him being unable to fend for himself? Or did he mean something else? These thoughts consumed him as he continued to weed, the process speeding up once Calvin had joined them. The clock was half past eleven when they finished, and after a long cool drink of water, Edward told Étienne to clean himself up so that they could go out.

XXX

“Edward, do you remember the last time you went without the truck?” Calvin was patiently asking. They were standing in the garage, and Edward was under the impression that they could just take the car.

(Étienne was baffled as to why two men needed a garage, two trucks, a car, motorcycles, bicycles, kayaks and canoes… he was surprised there wasn’t a camper stuffed in here as well.)

“Yes…” Edward shot a furtive look to Étienne. “You’re right.”

Calvin looked over to Étienne, “Last time-”

“Calvin, he doesn’t have to know!” Edward sounded painfully embarrassed, but Calvin continued.

“Edward went to the Enjoy Centre with the car, I ended up getting a phone call from him to bring the truck, because he found the perfect lattice work for the front garden for the creeping vines.” Calvin smiled, “Well he was right of course, but I told him, just bring the truck.” He jingled the keys.

“I wasn’t planning to get something so big, they were on sale,” Edward defended himself, as he approached the passenger side of the truck, he frowned, and looked towards Étienne. “Where do you want to sit?”

“…In the truck, presumably?”

“No, do you want shotgun? Or in the back?” Edward elaborated.

“I really don’t care?”

Calvin had rolled down the windows on the truck, to bark “Hurry up I’m starving!”

In the confusion, Edward ended up in the back, with Étienne riding shotgun next to Calvin.

The ride was relatively short, and Étienne was surprised that they had reached the place so quickly since it was not in the city.

It was a sprawling structure, and as they walked down to the entrance, he was not sure what to expect. Inside was like some sort of eclectic store, with various items he never knew existed, such as pickled cattail hearts. As they walked further in, he noticed on the right hand side the store in fact turned into sprawling greenhouses, with rows upon rows of plants. On the left was a large window, and in front of that was a café, and what looked to be a restaurant.

When he turned to look towards the two men, he found Calvin standing beside him, looking towards Ed with a rather fond if bemused expression upon his face, in his hands was an empty reusable bag, full of other reusable bags. Edward had moved on ahead, and was critically looking at one of their specialty jars of food, before setting it down and almost sprinting towards specialty gardening tools.

“…Does he always do this?”

“Yup.” Calvin responded, “He kept hinting in 2018 about how much he wanted a Hydroponic garden for the winter… and then when I got it him for Christmas... he yelled at me… honestly I keep getting mixed signals from him.”

“Hydroponic garden?” They were slowly strolling behind Edward, who was placing various items in his shopping basket.

“Yes, I got him the tower version… basically it’s a self contained garden so in the winter you can continue having fresh food. I think he loves it more than he loves me some days,” Calvin joked, “After yelling at me for spending so much on him, he immediately put it together despite it being the dead of winter-”

“But? You said it works in winter?”

“Yes, but you need to get the seedlings started when there is still sufficient sun, it’s not as efficient otherwise… but Edward of course cheated a little by using his greenhouse to get them started.”

“That small glass structure in front of the garage?”

“Eyup.”

Edward had stopped inside what looked to be a small shop and was critically looking at various cookware.

“There’s so much here…”

“And Edward knows the place like the back of his hand,” Calvin responded with some pride, “He was once asked to give a gardening talk here… they know him well enough.”

Sure enough, Edward had run into one of the staff and was chatting with them intensely about the merits of the magnetic Reenberg kitchen rail, and if it actually did help with organization.

“Do you… understand what he is debating about?” Étienne asked Calvin after a good five minutes had passed in fierce debate.

“Oh my god, Étienne, don’t look at me as if I understand. I’m just the guy who brings the bags in, all I know is he looks around to see what’s new, he buys stuff, and then our house gets better somehow.”

Edward ended up passing on the rail, and just bought some dish cloths from the small store, before he moved on towards the various plants, tutting at some of the sad looking ones, before finally, returning to the main till and purchasing the items.

“Are we done?”

Calvin let out a hollow laugh, “No. There’s still downstairs.”

“…There’s a downstairs?” Étienne was getting hungry and he had been hoping that they would be hitting the restaurant soon.

“Yes…” Calvin somehow was holding some of the full shopping bags, “Do me a favour and hold these empty bags? I’ll just drop these off into the truck.” Without waiting, Calvin handed Étienne the bags, and disappeared, leaving him alone with Edward, who was heading towards an escalator.

Not knowing what else to do, Étienne followed Edward downstairs, his eyes turning round as he realized just exactly was downstairs. It was a grocery store with all sorts of food.

“I see you like the place,” Edward stated, “This place has so much interesting food…”

“Wow,” Étienne had gravitated toward the extensive cheese section, trying to take in the various items.

“Feel free to choose whatever, my treat,” Edward casually said.

“What if I want all the cheese?” Étienne half joked.

“Well, so long as I can share, it’s good?”

“You might regret this,” Étienne warned as he began to pick up various cheeses, trying to decide which ones he wanted to try the most.

“Doubt it, you have excellent taste, Étienne. Hell, even if you choose a failure, it would still be an experience. I trust you.”

“Those feel like fatal last words somehow…” but Étienne was secretly pleased, and he placed five different cheeses into Edwards basket. They slowly wandered gazing at the various food, and at some point, Étienne had acquired his own basket, when Calvin joined up with them.

“Edward, I am not sure if we have enough room in the fridge for that…” he warned.

“Who needs room when we plan to eat it all?” he responded.

“I thought we were having a late lunch at the restaurant?”

“There is always second lunch? Dinner?” Edward looked up at Calvin playfully, “Why? Jealous you don’t have your own basket to fill?”

Sticking his tongue out at Edward, Calvin said, “Not at all. I just have the suspicion my credit card is going to take another hit.”

Playfully Edward swatted him on the arm, “Oh you, you complain but you love it when I feed you.”

Calvin shot a pained expression towards Étienne who had been watching the exchange with some interest. In response Étienne lifted his eyebrows as if to say ‘better you than me’.

(In all honesty however, if spending a ton of money meant he could have Edward cook for him on a daily basis, Étienne would do so in a heartbeat, but they didn’t need to know that).

After a good hour, they purchased a careful selection of food, and as they ascended the escalator, Edward said, “Let’s eat.”

“What we just bought?”

“No, they have a restaurant here,” he pointed to it and with his bags in hand tromped towards it. It was the place with large glass windows and as they were seated at their light wood table, there were a few other people happily chattering over their food.

The food as Étienne had expected was delicious, and as he sipped his coffee and gazed out at the lake, he felt content. Edward was sitting across from him talking animatedly about his hydroponic garden (Calvin had accidentally mentioned it, and Edward had decided to inform Étienne all about it). Calvin was sat beside him, not paying any attention to Edward’s chatter, instead he was looking towards the passing waitress with thinly veiled interest. An action with somewhat surprised Étienne, but he thought, Edward didn’t seem to mind so… the awkwardness of this morning had passed and as they headed back towards the truck, loaded with their food goods Étienne wondered what else this place had in store for him.

XXXXX

Dinner was held outside, under the birch tree. The neighbour was cutting their lawn, the earthy moist smell of fresh cut grass drifting over to them on the light breeze.

Between them sat an opened bottled of homemade rhubarb wine, their glasses in various states of consumption, as they lolled about on a picnic cloth. A tightly shut container, containing carefully cut cheese, meat and crackers protected by their bodies from the hungry chickens. Their shoes lay to the side, and Étienne was currently having a small standoff with Esther, who was busy trying to steal the Red Leicester from his plate (which he had shifted to hold protectively against his chest.)

“Why is she only attacking me?” Étienne asked, his voice slightly slurred, because the homemade rhubarb wine was rather strong.

Calvin was lazily tossing pieces of a cracker towards Henrietta, responded, “Just give in, you happen to be holding one of her favourite cheeses.”

“No! Chickens shouldn’t eat cheese! Right Edward?” Étienne beseechingly looked towards Edward, who was holding out a piece of sharp cheddar towards Mary-Anne, who happily plucked it from his fingers and quickly gobbled it down.

“Chickens can eat cheese, they just shouldn’t over indulge,” he responded grinning as Esther, in her impatience, gave the offending hand which was holding the Red Leicester out of reach a sharp peck. “If you want to keep your fingers I would suggest you give in a little and share… sharing is caring isn’t it?”

“You don’t sound so certain on that motto,” Étienne responded as he begrudgingly broke off a tiny piece of cheese and hesitantly held it out to Esther. After giving the piece of cheese an once over, she grabbed it in her beak, her action sharply nipping at Étienne’s fingers as she gobbled it down, and then turned her attention to Calvin, apparently desiring some crackers. “Ow jeez!”

“Are you alright?” Edward shifted over, putting his empty plate on top of the container, as he grasped Étienne’s hand to inspect the wound. “Aaah she did get you, you’re bleeding. We should wash this before it gets infected.” Glancing towards Calvin, who had three attentive chickens, Edward said, “We’re just gonna get this wound cleaned up.”

He looked up towards Edward, a fatal move, as Esther moved in and knocked his plate to the ground scattering the remaining of his mixed contents of crackers and cheese upon the ground, the three chickens giving loud clucks of victory as they swooped in to feast. Calvin had given a nod, before his attentions returned to the chickens, his protests loud and clear.

Grabbing Étienne by the wrist, Edward stood up, almost dragging the other man (who was still protectively holding his plate) towards the house.

“Why do you keep such vicious birds, Edward?” Étienne was grumbling.

“Maybe I like a challenge?” he responded as he opened the back door. “They have a proud dinosaur ancestry; they are just living up to their nature.”

“You are a fool then,” Étienne grumbled as Edward led him to the kitchen sink. Placing his plate safely down on the counter, Étienne was surprised when Edward squirted some soap onto his hand, and began to gently wash around the wound. With some amusement he said, “I do know how to wash my own hands, Edward.”

“Shh let me take care of you,” came the response, as Edward carefully towel dried the area and gave it another inspection, his attention entirely focused upon the wound, frowning as some blood continued to seep out. “Ahh… come on, we need some polysporin.” His hand moved back to Étienne’s wrist, and he guided him to the bathroom. Opening the mirrored cabinet, Edward pulled some of the stuff out, and popped it open. Without any warning, he spread some of the ointment onto the wound, the stinging making Étienne let out a small whimper.

“Warn me next time,” he hissed out in surprise.

Giving him a small smile, and finally, looking at his face, Edward winked, “Where’s the fun in that? If anyone states a clear intention of bandaging up your wounds, you run the other way. Remember that time when?”

“I thought you promised never to mention that again?” Étienne sharply interjected, lightly flushing at the embarrassing memory.

“Well…. It does serve as the perfect example of you being an idiot,” giving a slight shrug, Ed released Étienne’s hand, placed the polysporin back, and then rather deliberately produced a band-aid. He opened it, not letting Étienne even take it. “Hold still,” he ordered, as he gently wrapped the wound up, carefully smoothing down the edges. “There, you big baby, all better now. Do you need me to kiss it better?”

“Maybe I do,” Étienne said in a sulky tone, his eyes widening, when Edward brought the wounded hand up to his mouth, and placed a small, gentle kiss upon the bandage. “I – I was joking.”

“Mmhmm,” Releasing his hand, Edward rolled his eyes at Étienne, “C’mon let’s go save Calvin from the chickens.”

#quatschfic #pc: edmonton #pc: calgary #pc: montreal #pc: ottawa #2020 #chick3

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Make You Believe (Ravjila) - Juniper

Summary: Manila works too many hours in an old diner, but it’s worth it when a customer catches her interest. That is, until she becomes involved with someone from Manila’s past. 10K.

Saturday mornings weren’t complete without at least three coffee stains and a vow to never look at another egg again.

It was nauseating and exhausting, but Manila wouldn’t trade the breakfast rush for the world. Or so she made the customers believe, with an artificial twinkle in her eye. The clank of metal spoons against porcelain cups, mixed with the grumbles of insufferable elderlies hidden behind newspapers, was a surefire way to light a flame under her ass and remind her that this was all a way to fund her dreams.

As miserable as it got, there were things she enjoyed, too. There were the regulars who always commented on how nice she looked, even when her mascara was smudged and her hair stuck up in six different directions. She liked seeing the lit up faces of little kids when she snuck them the last chocolate chip cookie when her manager wasn’t looking.

Royale’s was one of the oldest places to eat in town, and even through many renovations, it kept its’ charm. The bar was lined with red leather stools, matching the jukebox next to the front door. It was usually playing some old soulful hit, and Manila danced to the music during closing time as she mopped the black and white tiled floors. Classic metal Coca Cola signs adorned the walls, beside framed photos of the diner hitting milestones throughout the years. The kitchen was in the back, and Manila pinned orders to clotheslines, picking up prepared plates through a small window.

Even though half the time it was covered in syrup, she loved her uniform. She and the other girls all sported the same dress, each in a different color. Manila’s was mint with pale, yellow accents and it suited her well, in her humble opinion. It was part of what had drawn her to apply two years prior, and she still felt a little giddy when she saw them all in a line, like a pretty, vintage rainbow.

Carmen always stayed at the register, in burnt orange, blowing bubbles and batting her eyelashes. Her pretty face was supposed to be the first and last thing the customers saw, as to coax them into returning. A girl like Carmen was one that you didn’t forget.

Shangie was a vision in red, but you always heard her about five minutes before you saw her. She and a purple-clad Juju always kept the customers engaged and entertained. They had big laughs, and even bigger personalities. They kept Manila’s spirits up when she was in the tail-end of a nine hour shift, dirty mouths getting them in trouble on more than one occasion.

Their senior manager was named George, and more often than not, he treated the girls rottenly. If he did have a soft spot for them, he had a funny way of showing it.

Pancakes and sausages turned into burgers and fries as the time on the clock drilled on, and sometimes she didn’t even notice she had sat on an open mustard packet until she got home. But despite the headaches, Royale’s was like a second home to Manila.

They’d have to start getting ready for lunch soon, Manila thought, as she restocked sugar packets. Juju nudged her in the side, and put her mouth right up to her ear, much too close for comfort.

“Hottie alert,” she whispered. “Check out the girl in Shangela’s section.”

She was in a booth across the diner, with a menu blocking out her face. Manila could make out a long, silvery ponytail. The girl was wearing black leather shorts, and dark legs shot out, seeming to extend for miles. She was clearly a stranger to Royale’s.

This was a mystery, and Manila was interested in getting a closer look to see if Juju was onto something.

“Just take her,” her coworker urged. “Shangela is off giving her hourly halleloo to some undeserving victim.”

Manila nodded and straightened out her apron before emerging from behind the bar. She strolled over, white tennis shoes still retaining some squeak.

“Hi, I’m Manila, and I’ll be your server today,” she said, always finding a way to make it sound overly-chipper. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

The girl closed her menu and smiled up at her. If it wasn’t a process forever programmed into the depths of Manila’s brain, she may have faltered.

She had big, brown eyes and a pretty smile. Manila was a little jealous of how the light hit her face, her cheekbones glittering excellently. The fluorescent lighting always made her look a little tired, yet the girl in front of her made her feel wide awake.

“Hey! How’s the coffee?”

Her voice was intriguingly deep, and when she talked her head quirked slightly to the left, causing her earrings to swing.

“Fresh, if that’s what you’re asking,” Manila replied. “But I’m supposed to say it’s delicious.”

The girl giggled into her palm, and while her eyes were shut, Manila snuck a glance back at Juju, who was shooting her an unsubtle thumbs-up. Manila made a mental note to smack her with a menu later.

“I’ll take your word for it, then. Do you guys have like a bagel or something?”

“Well, breakfast is over, but there’s one of my blueberry muffins in the back. If you want it, it’s yours.”

The girl smiled again, and Manila had to resist the urge to audibly thank her lucky stars that her curls were looking right today, and that her new coconut perfume was still lingering.

“You’re an angel.”

When she brought out her order, the girl looked at her with wide eyes as she was chewing on the muffin. Manila laughed as she poured the steaming beverage into her cup.

“You really made this? You’re amazing.”

“I’m alright,” Manila said. “It’s just a hobby of mine, and my manager lets me sell some of my creations. Baking is a good way to relieve stress, you know.”

“For you, maybe,” she replied, tearing open a sugar packet, letting the white granules trickle out. “The kitchen is the last place you’ll find me. I’d burn the whole place down.”

Manila didn’t believe her, but the thought was amusing.

Her name was Raja, she later found out from Carmen, who had snuck a glance at her debit card. Say what you want about the pretty ones; Carmen had an eye for detail.

After she’d gone, and Manila went to collect her tip, she noticed a napkin stuck under the salt shaker. It had been drawn on, in pen. An impressive illustration of the Gemini symbol, guarded by twin pairs of eyes. She folded the napkin and stuck it in her apron pocket.

Raja came back almost a week later, this time around mid-afternoon. Shangie begrudgingly handed Juju a dollar.

“I saw the way she looked at you,” she gloated, sticking the bill in her bra. “I knew she’d be back.”

After Raja had placed her order, Manila was pretending to wipe down the counters as she watched her aggressively type things into her phone. Every few minutes she’d let out a hefty sigh, and eventually, she gave up in favor of staring out the window.

“Waiting for someone, honey?”

Raja looked slightly relieved to see her, but the remaining pout was adorable. Her thin frame was swallowed by a very large denim jacket, littered with buttons and patches, and her hair was only half up. Manila felt like a kitten drawn to a particularly attractive bundle of yarn; she had to resist the urge to reach out and play with it.

“Not hardly. I’m trying to draw these lilies,” she sighed, gesturing to the sketchbook on the table in front of her. “But they look like shit, and I can’t figure out why.”

Manila looked at the page for a moment, humming in thought. She took the pencil stuck behind her ear and vigorously erased.

“You need to shade the edges a bit more here, and curve these lines. It would look a lot better if the petals weren’t so straight. Not even flowers are perfect.”

When she didn’t get a response, she looked up. Raja was wearing a curious smile.

The visits became more frequent, and on the sixth, she showed up during Manila’s lunch break. She spent her time off the clock in the booth with her, and they doodled on the back of the kid menus with crayons. Every now and then, Manila looked to the clock, and spotted Carmen watching them with a sweet smile.

“So how come I’ve never seen you around until recently?”

“I just moved to town,” Raja said, working a red Crayola over the paper. “I wanted a change of pace. This place is really charming.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Manila snorted. “There’s absolutely nothing to do here. Everything about this town is so boring.”

“I wouldn’t say everything.”

Manila smiled.

–

Raja rarely came in empty handed. First, it was the sketch pads, then the books of poetry, and the fashion magazines. She was incredibly stylish, and Manila could swear that Raja modeled all the latest trends three weeks before they hit the stores.

They giggled and gossiped, flirted and fawned. If Manila conveniently forgot to add something to Raja’s bill, Carmen didn’t bring it up. When Manila found her tip folded into an origami heart, she held it close to her own.

“She’s got it bad, ladies,” Shangela announced. “Look at her! A total love fool.”

The girls were closing up, with Manila mopping the checkered floor, a cheesy grin on her face.

“Don’t be jealous, honey. Green’s not your color.”

“Listen to this shit,” Juju laughed, nudging Carmen. “It’s just a game of chase! It’s been months and you guys haven’t fucked once.”

“Jujubee! What have I told you about the language?”

Their manager pushed through the swinging door, looking cross. Carmen tried to hide her laughter from behind the dollar bills she was counting.

“Sorry, George,” she sheepishly mumbled.

He sighed heavily, placing his hands on his hips. The air conditioning blew the few hairs in his combover up and down lightly. His eyes looked tired, fatigued by too many years of working too many underappreciated shifts. The girls often wondered how his wife dealt with his hot temper and gloomy outlook. If there was a time when he could keep up an act of happiness out of customer company, it was long gone.

“What am I gonna do with you girls? Always too busy talking to get anything done. Luzon!”

Manila squeaked in acknowledgement.

“Hurry up, you should be done with those floors by now. Especially considering that the dinner rush was pretty slow,” he grunted. “Make sure you clock out on time. If I catch you trying to sneak in overtime again, you’re on suspension.”

“Yes, sir.”

Manila stuck her tongue out at his back as he returned to his office. Juju groaned loudly once he was out of sight.

“God, what a dick,” she huffed, sending the other three into a laughing fit.

–

“But, Carmen,” Manila whined. “We’re never both off on Friday nights!”

Carmen was focused on the roll of quarters she was unwrapping.

“Girl, I love you, but I love my man, too. I can’t bail. Next time, I promise.”

Juju and Shangela had just come back from break, and were failing to pretend to look busy. It was pitifully slow, only a matter of time before George sent at least one of them home for the day.

“How about you spend your time off with someone else,” Shangie hinted.

Manila bit her lip and glanced over to Raja, who just happened to look up at the same time. She waved happily, and Manila beamed.

Juju tossed her a small towel to dry off the clean dishes with.

“Bitch, if you don’t ask her out in the next five minutes, I’m stealing her away.”

“Good luck with that,” Manila snorted.

“Damn! That was so shady, did you two hear that?”

“Seriously,” Carmen interjected. “The girl is obviously crazy about you, Manila. You need to make a move before she finds someone else.”

“Okay, okay!” She exclaimed, holding her hands up in defense. “I’ll…I’ll do it today. I’ll ask her out, alright? I just have to figure out what to say.”

It was then that the bell chimed, and a customer walked through the door.

“Welcome to Royale’s!” Shangela greeted. “Feel free to seat yourself.”

The girl stayed by the door, on the phone, but offered a polite nod.

“Oh, shit.”

“No way.”

“What?” Shangela turned to see her coworkers with sour expressions. Manila looked particularly disturbed.

“What the hell is she doing here? She hasn’t come in once since I got hired.”

“You got beef with that girl, Manila?”

She had bleached beachy waves, hitting just below her chin. Her makeup was exquisite, and it reminded Manila of something you’d see with a million likes on Instagram. Her manicured fingers clung onto the strap of her designer bag. Even from behind the counter, she could see her piercing eyes, matching her intense aura so well.

Raven was even more beautiful than she remembered.

“Leave it to Manila to be exes with the bitchiest girl from high school,” Carmen whispered harshly.

They were huddled now, trying not to stare. Despite the music from the jukebox, Manila could make out the faint sound of her laughter. She tapped her foot in annoyance, trying not to squeeze the glass in her hand too hard.

“Come on, she’s not that bad,” Juju protested, causing Carmen to roll her eyes. “She can actually be really sweet. Sorry, ‘Nila.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure she has to have at least one face that’s lovely.”

The forgotten girl coughed to get their attention.

“Okay, will someone please fill Shangie in on what’s happening, y’all?”

“Basically,” Carmen started, spitting her gum into a scrap piece of receipt paper. “That girl, Raven, was Manila’s BFF. For, like, ever. Hormones and shit happen, and our girl here falls for her, or whatever. Everything works out, and they start moving in the direction of a relationship. Then, at my Halloween party senior year, they finally hook up. Suddenly, that was the end of it. Raven dropped her, both as a girlfriend and a best friend. Never even gave an explanation.”

“Oh,” Shangela replied awkwardly.

Manila flushed, the memories rushing back to her. People moved to the pounding bass in Carmen’s living room, beer sloshing in plastic cups. The night was cool, but the mood was heated. She was dressed as Audrey Hepburn, classic Breakfast at Tiffany’s get-up, and Raven made a stellar Catwoman. They couldn’t get their hands off each other all night, before finally sneaking off.

She’d never been with a girl before, much less her best friend. Carmen had given her plenty of advice, but Manila was still incredibly nervous. Everything was sweet, tasting like smoke and illegal alcohol. Her hands trembled as she touched Raven’s body, feeling shaken by the purr she released into her ear.

The costumes came off, and the clouds parted, allowing moonlight to creep in through the window. With Raven’s naked, sweaty body on top of her, she began to panic. It was the part she never told Carmen or Juju, or anyone.

Her breathing became irregular, and she began to cry, burying her face in her hands. Her best friend immediately pulled off of her, and brought her close, hugging her gently. She soothed her, whispering sweet affirmations into her hair.

It was the realizations. That yes, this was really it. She was a lesbian, and she’d have to tell her parents and face that the world would feel like it deserved some explanation, as if it were entitled to her heart. This was her virginity, and she was losing it to her best friend. If she messed this up, she’d be losing the person most important to her.

Raven promised that it was okay, she wasn’t angry. Swore that she hadn’t ruined anything. They fell asleep together, covered in nothing but a sheet.

When Manila woke up with a ringing in her ears, she stretched, noting that the bed felt extremely spacious. She pried her eyes open; she was alone.

That was the last she ever heard from Raven. Texts went ignored, and she was avoided in the halls. It was a heartbreak like no other, to lose your best friend and the person you harbored feelings for in the same night. She spent many nights crying, watching the seconds tick by on the clocks in class, every minute dragging by so slowly. Her heart was so heavy, and she felt so alone.

Now, Manila shook her head, attempting to leave the dark period behind her. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why Raven would randomly show up at Royale’s four years after graduation. Was she finally ready to make amends? Did Manila even want that?

“So, you mean to tell me you kissed those lips?” Shangela inquired.

“About five sets of injections ago,” she laughed ostentatiously. Bitterness was easier than sadness.

Carmen joked that there was nothing wrong with a little enhancement, “and really, the bitch could stand a heart transplant”.

“Come on, Car, it was years ago,” Juju groaned. “Can’t we all put it behind us?”

“I take it you’re still buddies with her,” Shangie said. Jujubee looked at the floor.

“You bet,” Carmen said. “Way to be a support system, J.”

“We’re 22 years old. I’m not going to pick teams over something that happened in high school. She didn’t break up with me.”

Finally, Raven hung up her cell, and moved towards a booth, right past the four observing waitresses.

When she slid into Raja’s booth, Juju grabbed Manila’s wrist so fast that she almost dropped the glass.

“Oh, my God. What the hell?”

There was a collective gasp as the four saw Raja and Raven exchange pleasantries, smiles on both faces. Manila felt dizzy.

“What the fuck? What are the odds?” Carmen asked, clearly stunned.

Six different forms of jealousy were taking hold of Manila’s mind, and she could barely see straight. Not only was it unnerving to see her ex-best friend turned ex-lover, but here she was, on a date with the girl Manila had been crazy about for months.

As soon as Raja excused herself to go to the restroom, Manila sped over. She never mustered up the courage to confront Raven during high school, but all of the anger was finally bubbling to the surface, pushing her closer and closer to that booth.

She set down a glass of lemonade rather roughly, causing the ice to loudly shuffle.

Raven looked up, and her face showed a flicker of shock before regaining composure.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Manila spat.

“Nice to see you, too,” she replied evenly.

“Save it, Raven. You don’t come here. You never come here. What’s the deal?”

“There’s no agenda, Manila. I didn’t even know you still worked here,” she sighed.

“Why did you come with Raja?”

“Raja? I wasn’t aware you knew each other. She asked me out, and mentioned this was her favorite place…” her voice trailed off, realization sneaking in. Something ignited in Raven’s eye as she placed her elbow on the table, chin resting in palm. “You like her.”

“No, I don’t,” Manila quickly argued. Her vision honed in on the mole right beneath Raven’s eye, and she was bombarded by confusing feelings and the scent of the same perfume from years past. She gripped the skirt of her dress, knuckles white.

“You do!” She laughed. “How cute. Sorry, Luzon. What do they say, all’s fair in love and war?”

Manila spun on her heel to refrain from saying something that would surely warrant a complaint to management.

When Raja returned, Shangela came to take their order.

“Um, ma’am, what happened to our other waitress?” She frowned. Raven said nothing, stirring her straw.

“She was moved to another section. It happens. Don’t worry, I’ll help you out for the rest of your visit!”

Raja spent half the meal looking distracted, absent-mindedly poking at her salad with her fork. Raven was growing slightly annoyed, as she could tell where the other girl’s gaze kept drifting off to.

“Earth to Raja.”

She looked up and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry! God, I’m being rude,” she said. “How’s the lemonade? I’ve never tried it.”

Raven faltered for a moment, looking down at her glass. She’d been sipping on it the whole time, never realizing that she hadn’t even ordered it.

“Um, it’s my favorite,” she said softly. Raja sighed.

“I was just thinking about our waitress. Why she switched, I mean.”

While she adored her, Raven was growing increasingly curious about the strange love triangle she’d managed to wind up in. Over the past few weeks since they’d met, they learned so much about each other, but she’d never once mentioned Manila. She suspected the lack of communication was a bigger problem than Raja thought.

“Well, I for one enjoy Miss Shangela,” she said, lifting a fry to her mouth. “I think she’s fun. Halleloo!”

“Lord knows you’re hard to impress,” Raja joked. “It’s just…the other girl, she’s always my waitress. We’re pretty good friends…we have so many things in common. I wonder if I pissed her off or something.”

If Raven hadn’t spent years perfecting her poker face, her distaste would be apparent. It would be her luck to find a beautiful girl to catch her attention, only to discover that she was tangled up with Manila Luzon, of all people.

“Maybe she’s jealous.”

Raja seemed to consider the thought for a moment.

“I don’t know, probably not. I used to think she liked me…but she never said anything. God, this is horrible date talk. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re right, you are horrible. I think you owe me a milkshake for all this grief.”

Raja exhaled and took her hand. So, there was something unspoken between the two. Typically, she wouldn’t tangle herself up in these kinds of messes.

But something about Raja’s glittering eyes told her to stay. If she played her cards right, nothing ever had to come of their little crushes.

–

Manila let the cool water run over her hands as she scratched at the goopy spots of syrup, always managing to catch rogue fuzz and dust bunnies. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and scrunched her nose. The good concealer was getting its use today, paired with several coats of mascara to make her look semi-alert.

Her Friday night was spent getting wine drunk on the couch, cursing at Titanic on her television screen. She sobbed loudly, pounding her pillow. It was essential emotional release, she told herself, ignoring the fact that she would have to open the next morning.

She had spent half of the morning rush with her apron turned inside out, moving from table to table in a groggy daze, only delivering their breakfasts by the sheer force of muscle memory.

When George swept by, telling her to smile, she flashed her teeth with dead eyes. He’d be back in five minutes for his coffee, and she seriously considered spitting in it.

Manila peered through the circular window in the swinging door. Since her very first visit, Raja had not missed a Saturday morning at Royale’s, yet now, her booth remained unoccupied. Manila had braced herself, but still felt disappointment. She had something else, now. Someone else.

Drying her hands on her apron, she bumped the door open with her hip. Carmen was catching up with the regulars, handing them individually wrapped toothpicks. All the men always hung around the register a little too long, unable to get enough of her.

A set of nails tapped on the counter, and Manila turned her attention to them with a smile.

“Um, hi.”

It was Raja, perched on one of the stools, looking nervous. Her cheeks were pink, and she had a small package in front of her. There was one of her little doodles on the side, a cartoonish pineapple with a smiling face.

When Shangela bussed their table, Manila asked for the drawing left under the salt shaker, but all the napkins had was excess lipstick and grease spots.

“I’m not much of a chef, but I tried my hand at baking last night,” she offered. “They’re brownies. For your break.”

Manila didn’t know what to say. What was this? A peace offering? A “sorry I led you on and ended up with your ex” gift? She could practically hear Raven’s gloating laughter.

“Thanks,” was her awkward response.

They looked at each other for a few moments, neither wanting to be the first to say something.

“Um, so,” Manila started.

“I’ll cut right to it. I hate conflict, Manila. What did I do to make you ditch me yesterday?”

“What?” Manila blinked. “Um, nothing. Nothing, you’re fine. George just comes in and rezones us every so often, to make sure we’re not stealing tables from the other girls.”

She was lying, and prayed it wasn’t obvious. Truthfully, Manila had never even bothered to ask Raja to move out of Shangela’s section, and George hadn’t noticed yet.

The fact was that she couldn’t bear to look at Raven a second longer. This was not the reunion she had spent so many years daydreaming about. She was supposed to show up with flowers, grovel at Manila’s feet for forgiveness. Not show up with the same icy attitude and steal her crush away. Rejection from Raja would have been miserable enough, but she could have survived. However, she refused to torture herself by bringing burgers to the happy couple, sharing everything she’d always wanted.

She was feeling nostalgic in the worst of ways, and it sent her into a vicious cycle of emotion, alternating between feeling pissed off and devastated. She had spent the rest of their date spritzing the windows with glass cleaner, wiping aggressive circles into the panes to try and wash away the reflection.

Raja seemed to buy it, judging by the smile on her face.

“Oh, good. I was worried that you were mad at me.”

Manila felt a tug on her heart. Her misery wasn’t Raja’s fault. She hadn’t acted quick enough, and as far as she knew, Raven hadn’t revealed their past. She still cared for Raja, and even if it would take some getting used to, she wasn’t ready to let go of that pretty face.

“I couldn’t be mad at you if I tried,” she admitted.

“Good, because I’d miss you too much,” Raja said. “You make me believe that all of my artistic whims are worth something.” All she could do was smile.

“Go on, try one,” she urged, and Manila unboxed the treats with a giggle. Lifting one of the brownies to her lips, she noticed Raja intensely watching her bite into the chocolate.

“A little dry,” she admitted after a minute. Raja faked offense, grabbing her heart dramatically.

“Maybe you could instruct me sometime, Master Chef Manila.”

Some of the pressure was alleviated from her chest. They spoke easily, like nothing had changed. Maybe it hadn’t. The little devil on Manila’s shoulder brought its’ razor-sharp teeth up to her ear.

One little date didn’t mean anything. She could still have Raja.

–

A few days later, Manila was brushing her teeth when she received a text from Shangela.

Be prepared. They’re here. – Shangie

It sounded overly ominous, but Manila knew her friends were taking this just as seriously as she was. She had to remember to thank them later.

If Manila was going to win Raja’s affection, she needed to commit and pull out all the stops. She dug through her drawers, and pulled out her fanciest push-up bra, the red one with the black lace. Caught around one of the hooks were the matching underwear, and she opted for them as well.

She’d never gotten around to trashing the old uniform that had shrunk a bit in the wash. She pulled the green dress over her head, and felt satisfied when she saw how short the skirt had become.

When she clocked in, Shangie hurriedly fastened a few more buttons on her collar.

“Okay, Miss Thing, you’ve been hanging out with Carmen too much. We’re going for sexy, not desperate.”

Manila still felt a slight tickle in her throat from the fumes of the hairspray she’d worked over her curls. They were thick and bouncy, and her plan seemed to be coming to fruition.

Not only would she be piquing Raja’s interest, but she’d be showing Raven just what she had walked out on. She looked good, and refused to go ignored.

“I got their drinks, but they haven’t ordered yet,” Shangie whispered. They were spying from behind the counter, and for a moment, Manila had her doubts.

Raja looked extremely happy. She was speaking animatedly, using her hands to help her tell the story, and Raven watched her intently, a real smile tugging on the edges of her lips. They never seemed to run out of things to talk about. It took a lot for Raven to open up, Manila knew that better than anyone. From the looks of it, they were getting to know each other well.

“Maybe this is a mistake,” she pouted. “I mean, what if she has a real connection with Raven?”

“So did you,” Carmen snapped, and Manila flinched at her words. “If you care about Raja, are you really going to stand by and let her get hurt like you did?”

Taking a deep breath, she strutted over to their table, swinging her hips. When Raja spotted her, she stopped mid-sentence.

“Hey, ladies. Have we decided?”

Manila was talking to Raja, of course, who looked up with those sparkly eyes.

“I finally managed to get through the brownies you baked for me,” she said, with a slight edge.

“Made with love.” Her heart skipped a beat.

“We both want the special,” Raven interrupted. Manila coolly looked at her, though Raja’s gaze did not move. Raven’s eyes were narrowed, and Manila felt a rush of adrenaline rip through her chest. There was an electricity present, a challenge. She definitely knew what Manila was up to.

“Right,” she said, jotting it down on her pad. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Raven’s appetite was quickly diminishing as she saw Raja continue to sneak glances at Manila.

George emerged from the back and had to do a double take when he passed Manila.

“Luzon? Your uniform is looking a bit on the snug side,” he started. “If you’re getting bigger, you need to let me know so I can put in an order for some new ones.”

“What an awful thing to say, Georgie,” Carmen mewled. She was distracting him, and Manila was grateful. She couldn’t let him shake her focus. “I think she looks beautiful. I wish I had Manila’s figure…”

He relented, a goofy smile creeping up on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Manila could see Shangela gagging. No one was safe from the Carmen Carrera charm.

“Oh, come on, Carmen,” he said. “You have such a nice little body.” She flashed her teeth, twirling a caramel strand around her tanned finger. Manila cleared her throat, causing George to jump.

“Just a little laundry mishap, sir,” she said, smile strained. “Won’t happen again.”

Shangie grunted in disapproval once he’d gone. “He’s getting to you,” she said to Manila. “I’m too tiny to hold you back if you go berserk on him.”

“Whatever, he’s an asshole. That doesn’t matter now.”

“We have a development, ladies,” Carmen called, nodding over to the jukebox, where Raven was sliding several quarters into the slot. They could only see the back of her head, and Manila thought back to when that hair was long and dark. She didn’t even know her anymore.

The machine whirred as it filtered through the disks, before finally settling on the track she’d picked. As the opening chords played over the speakers, Manila saw her blow a kiss over to Raja. She was clutching her heart and smiling wide. As she walked back to her, Raven shot Manila a wink, and Shangie had to pinch her to keep her from cursing.

“That’s the song that was playing when they first met,” Juju said as she joined the others, wiping leftover crumbs from her lips.

“What? How do you know that?”

Carmen rolled her eyes and licked a napkin before scrubbing Juju’s cheek. “You could at least check yourself in the mirror before coming back from break,” she scolded. “And I told you guys, she’s a rat. Raven told her.”

Manila enveloped the tiny girl in a hug, much to the surprise of the others.

“J, this is perfect,” she grinned diabolically. “You have to tell us everything you know.”

“I’m not going to be your mole, Manila,” she protested, but with three sets of expectant eyes on her, she sighed uncomfortably.

They’d met at the gym, in the evening Zumba class they both attended twice a week. Raven watched her long, gray ponytail bounce, and tried desperately to listen to the instructor. It was hard to follow directions, when a beautiful girl was squatting in front of her in sinfully tight yoga pants. She never noticed Raven, until one day she did. And every day after that.

She’d accidentally mopped Raven’s water bottle, chugging its’ contents before realizing it wasn’t hers. Under normal circumstances, she would have gone off on anyone who dared to touch her things, but the girl’s genuine nature left her speechless. She apologized profusely, grabbing Raven’s hand. Their fingers sparked an electric shock, and she nearly pulled away.

As the other girls all moved back into place, they stood there, staring at each other. Sweat was dripping down Raven’s back, and the upbeat song was in time with her heartbeat.

“My name is Raja,” she panted. “My water is in my bag, still. I can grab it.”

Raven simply shook her head, trying so hard to keep from smiling that it made her cheeks ache.

“Raven,” she said softly. “No need. We’re almost done, anyway. You can owe me something later.”

The next class, Raja stood next to Raven, who was stretching while she waited for the instructor to pick out a playlist. They giggled as the got tripped up on steps, and Raja’s long limbs almost knocked her out several times. Somehow, they wound up parked next door each other, and stood talking by their cars for an hour afterwards, letting the breeze cool their heated skin.

A week later, Raven was sitting on the ground, trying to touch her toes. She always needed to stretch a bit after class was over, or she felt a bit worse the next day. Raja was kneeling beside her, tying her shoe, when she lost balance and toppled over on top of her.

Raja had one arm pinned over her side, still reeling. Their faces were just inches apart, and the tension was palpable. If Raven didn’t crack a joke now, she might lose her composure.

“If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask,” she smirked. Raja’s face was flushed, but whether it was from the workout or their position was unclear.

“Maybe I do,” she whispered huskily, dark eyes glancing down at Raven’s lips.

Overcome, Raven pulled herself out from under her and stood up, pulling down her tank top. She cleared her throat. The thought that Raja actually wanted her was surprising enough, but something stirred in her tiny, black heart when she realized that it didn’t matter that she was a bare-faced, sweaty mess. Raja’s eyes were true.

“Come on, get up,” she urged, voice on the verge of cracking. “At least take a girl out to dinner first.”

“And that’s how they ended up coming here,” Juju finished.

“What did she say about me working here?” Manila pondered.

“She didn’t even mention you.”

“What a bitch.”

Carmen clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. The song had ended since Jujubee had started the story, but Raven and Raja were still laughing loudly at their table.

“That’s like, a story to tell the grandkids,” Carmen pouted. “Okay, we have to move past playing it safe. If you really wanna get her attention, we need a plan of attack.”

Manila had to admit that Raven had gotten way farther than she had in just a few, short weeks.

She knew Raja, though. Knew things that you could only learn over the course of several months, with gained trust. They both had an artistic mentality, both knew how it was to grow up a Euro-Asian mix. What those family reunions were like, too much of this, not enough of that. They were both dreamers and doers. Creative creators.

They had shared laughter and tales of heartache, and Manila cursed herself for not being confident enough to just say something. There was something between them, she was positive.

A crash pulled Manila from her thoughts, and she saw the metal straw dispenser on the floor, plastic straws spread all over the tile.

“Jesus, Carmen, what the hell?”

“Wow, I’m such a klutz,” she responded, a little louder than necessary. “Manila, could you pick those up?”

The spark in her eyes allowed Manila to realize that Raven and Raja were watching her. If the only thing separating her and Raven was physical attraction, she’d turn it up a notch.

She came out from behind the counter and kneeled in front of the mess, acting oblivious. Luckily, they were the only ones in Shangie’s section, the target audience for the show.

Raven’s back was burning as she watched, twisting her body to the sight happening behind her. Manila was on all fours, gathering the straws. Instead of crawling toward it, she reached for a rogue one, her skirt riding up just enough to give them a peek at her panties. She parted her knees, sticking her ass higher in the air as she extended her arm, and there wasn’t much left for Raven to imagine.

Except for the way it might feel to pull that skirt all the way up and grab hold of those dark curls. To have Manila as her own little servant, kneeling by her feet, waiting patiently for a command. Obeying when she was ordered to make Raja feel good while she sat back and watched the two girls sigh into each other’s mouths…

Raven shook her head, and turned around. She couldn’t think this way about Manila, not anymore.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only effected party, as Raja was chewing on her lip, subconsciously squirming in her seat as she watched Manila.

She rose, throwing the contaminated plastic in the garbage, and placing the dispenser up on the counter. She moved to check on them, and the tension was palpable.

“Anything I can help you ladies with?”

Suddenly, the spell was broken, and Raven realized this was all intentional. She looked to Juju who quickly pretended to be working on the nozzles on the soda fountains.

So, Manila wanted a war. She wasn’t the only one who could play dirty.

From underneath the table, Raven placed a hand on Raja’s bare knee, tantalizing the skin with her nails. Raja jumped slightly, clearly unnerved.

“I’m suddenly very hungry for something else,” Raven growled, causing her date to swallow hard. “Come over to my place for desert?”

“Luzon!”

Manila felt her eyes roll to the back of her skull, but forced a faux smile as she turned around.

“Yes, George?”

“I’ve gotten several complaints that my customers do not want to see your ass when they are trying to eat. What has gotten into you?”

Her nerves were on fire. His voice was a harsh whisper, and she could feel curious eyes on them.

“It was just a problem with the washer, really-“

“Save it, Luzon. I’m not paying you to walk around acting like a slut,” he hissed. Manila’s face fell.

Her mouth was dry, and tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Carmen spoke up, trying to control the scene. “I think she gets it, George. Look, Nila, I have a spare dress in my car. You can put it on when my boyfriend brings it by, okay?” Manila nodded, arms crossed over her chest. George sighed heavily.

“Alright, fine. But if I hear any more complaints, it’s not gonna be good news.”

Carmen hugged her, Manila sniveling into her shoulder. They were startled by the sound of the register jutting open, and looked up to see Shangela handing Raja two Styrofoam containers. Raven walked over to them, grabbing a mint from the glass jar.

“Psst, sorry to see the show shut down,” Raven whispered. She tore the plastic, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “But nice try, Luzon.”

“Fuck off,” she spat back, trying to hide her watery eyes.

“Leave her alone, Raven. Haven’t you done enough?”

Her eyes narrowed, still working the spiraled candy between her fingers. “I don’t believe anyone asked for your input, Carmen.” She leaned forward, and before Manila knew it, Raven was slipping the mint between her lips. It was cool on her tongue, and Raven’s finger lingered a bit too long. “It seems to be the trend around here to meddle in other people’s business. Right, Juju?”

“I’m not entertaining this,” Jujubee huffed. “You’re both idiots.” It was then that Raja came over with the to-go boxes in hand.

“Ready to take off?” Raven asked, affectionately kissing her cheek.

“You’d know all about taking,” Manila muttered. Her eyes were strong now.

They were staring again, and Raja looked to the other waitresses for answers. Juju smiled awkwardly, but Carmen stood defensively by Manila’s side, looking ready to pounce.

“Um,” Raja cleared her throat. “Am I missing something?”

They all responded at once, with a resounding “no”.

–

Tomorrow was Manila’s day off, and it couldn’t have come any sooner. She was the last one left to close, and her aching feet were begging her to hurry and lock up.

For some, it was eerie to be alone in the diner late at night, but Manila relished the opportunity to work at her own pace. No one to distract her or dictate her actions, just her and the sound of the music.

She gave the counters a once-over, making sure every surface had been disinfected and everything had been put away in the back for the openers. The clock said that it was almost eleven, and she didn’t have much of a reason left to stay. She closed her eyes, letting the song fill her ears, lifting her to some far-away place, where things made sense. Where she was happy.

She felt hopeless. Why had she allowed herself to parade around as some fool, acting pathetic? Manila was engaged in a game of cat and mouse that no one else was playing. Was it really to make Raja like her? This wasn’t who she was, feeling more self-conscious as the day went by, receiving lingering gawks from men that didn’t even know her. She wasn’t a display piece, and when she realized that Raja was not an object either, she felt sick to her stomach for trying to steal her away.

It was deeper than that, and repressed hurt crept into her heart every time she thought about Raja leaving, going home to kisses and soft hands.

The same touch that was once everything to her.

Manila was on the outside looking in, and she reached out into the nothingness. No one could hear her. She was withering away.

She wondered just how much more Raven could take from her before she would wilt completely.

Her phone buzzed from her apron pocket, and she unlocked it to see Shangela saying goodnight to their group chat. Their display picture stood out at the top of her screen, the four girls all laughing, drinks in hand. If Manila was lonely, at least she wasn’t alone.

A knock startled Manila, and she squinted. The door was locked, thankfully, but her heart started to slow when she saw a familiar face crouch down and wave.

–

Raja leaned up against the fridge in Manila’s kitchen, head pressed to the cool steel.

This was Manila’s zone, and she watched her move swiftly, completely focused. The hour was late, but her eyes held determination as her hands worked expertly. It was the same kind of groove that they shared, a process taking over their body, using them as a vessel for creation.

Several dirtied dishes lined the countertops, and Raja couldn’t help but feel amused that she was doing much more observing than anything else.

“Let me help,” she said, taking the big bowl from Manila’s arm, prying her fingers off the wooden spoon. She continued working it through the mixture, watching the younger girl blink slowly, batting away exhaustion.

Raja should probably feel bad for suggesting a midnight baking lesson, but she was content with standing in the lowly-lit apartment, the shorter girl’s feet pattering on the floor as she maneuvered through the room. She was in a large t-shirt and jogging pants, with a lopsided ponytail on the top of her head. She placed a hand over Raja’s, and they stirred together.

“I’m going to put them in the oven,” she said a few minutes later. “Then go to the bathroom. You can wait in my room. You remember which door?”

Raja nodded, reluctantly leaving Manila to her own devices. She knew that once she’d gone, Manila would smooth out any wrinkles she had left in her routine. Her perfectionist attitude was as sweet as the sugar she used in her confections.

A single lamp illuminated Manila’s gray bedroom walls and purple bedding. There was a painting of lilacs hanging over the headboard, and Raja made note of the loopy signature in the corner of the canvas.

Her closet was open, and she admired the clothes. Being so used to seeing her in a uniform, it was surprising to see Manila’s style on display in front of her. There was definite taste.

At the bottom, amongst several pairs of shoes, was a fabric box holding a variety of art supplies. Raja reached down, pulling out a black leather-bound journal. She flipped through, but there were no pictures, only words.

It was an old diary.

Raja peered out into the hallway, making sure Manila wasn’t coming. What she was about to do was wrong, but she couldn’t squash her curiosity. She cracked the journal open to an entry around the center, and the top of the page was dated from over four years prior.

Sept. 17 –

We’re in the swing of things! Homecoming is right around the corner, and Juju and I are leading the committee. I’m pretty sure Carmen is going to be crowned queen. She says she doesn’t think so, but she’s probably lying. Her dress is super pretty. It’s totally revealing, typical Carmen.

Raja sighed. She still felt guilty, but at least she hadn’t uncovered anything too deep. This was a standard account of high school life. She recognized the names of the other waitresses, and felt it was lovely that the girls were still friends. She flipped through a few more pages.

Oct. 12 –

Who do you turn to when you need to reveal the biggest secret of your life, but it turns out that it’s about your best friend? Carmen can’t keep a secret, and Juju is just too close to her. I guess that’s why I have this diary. I can’t feel my hands when she’s around, and all of a sudden I can’t joke like I used to. I even skipped English yesterday because I was too nervous to see her. I thought this would pass, but it feels like every time we’re together it gets stronger. It’s eating me alive. Should I tell her? What if I ruin everything?

Oct. 30 –

Carmen’s party is tonight! Of course, her parents are out of town, and some guys with fakes bought us a bunch of booze. I’m pretty pleased with my costume, but I’m more excited to spend the night with my girlfriend. Can you believe I just wrote that? Girlfriend! I think it’s gonna be a special night.

P.S. – I think my sister knows I’m seeing someone, but if I tell her, she’ll rat me out to Mom. I mean, what would they say if they knew it was Raven?

The toilet flushed, and she barely managed to shove the journal back in its box and stand up before Manila came walking in, a sleepy smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said. “We can go check on them in a few minutes. I’ll even let you stick the toothpicks in.”

Raja acted as calmly as she could, but her heart was racing. Manila was talking about some video she’d seen on Facebook, but she couldn’t focus on anything except what she’d just read.

Raven? And Manila?

Honestly, she’d had her suspicions, but to actually see it in writing was a shock. How could neither of them say anything?

“Raja?”

She blinked, and looked over to Manila, who was sitting on the bed with a concerned expression.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted to stay the night,” she said shyly. “I mean, it’s pretty late.”

She needed time to think, to figure out what to do. As if she wasn’t already confused enough, there was now a whole new layer to the situation. But she couldn’t exactly get mad at Manila without exposing herself.

“Sure.”

They ate cookies and sipped on wine, and before Raja knew it, she had completely forgotten about Manila’s diary. Somehow, she’d ended up nestled against Raja’s side, laughing about a story from work. It was comfortable, being under the covers together.

Manila was desperately fighting sleep, and she wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Raj?”

“Mmm.”

“Will you still be here when I wake up?”

Raja shifted to look down at the smaller girl. Her sad eyes looked heavy, and she was tracing circles into Raja’s sleeve. She took her hand and kissed it.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

As her eyes flittered shut, Raja wondered just what the hell she had gotten herself into.

–

The sound of chewing through the speaker of Raven’s phone was irritating enough to give an aspirin a headache. Still, she pressed on.

“I could pretend to get food poisoning,” she mused, admiring her manicure. “Bonus points if it’s Luzon’s cooking. Then I could convince Raja to never go back.”

“Are you sure you’re that convincing of an actress?”

She frowned. From her bedroom window, she could see a pair of black butterflies dancing around the flowers in her garden, scaling the trellis, careful not to wake the dormant morning glories. Raven wondered if it was a sign. Probably not.

“Maybe I won’t have to act. Is there anything you can use to, like, spike our food?”

“Jesus, Rave! Listen to yourself,” Juju groaned over the line. “You two are acting like children. Have you considered just asking Raja which one of you she wants?”

Truthfully, she had contemplated it, but she was afraid of the answer. When Raja wasn’t answering her phone, Raven knew exactly where she was. They were in too deep.

“I didn’t start this,” she sneered, deflecting the question. Jujubee sighed. Never once had she asked her to choose sides when she split up with Manila, but now she was wishing she had someone unapologetically in her corner.

“Then finish it. Just say what you feel for once, Raven. You may have lost Manila, but you still have a chance with this one. I love you, but please, stop being a coward.”

The words hurt, like a blow to the gut, and she felt the air leave her lungs. As if it wasn’t hard enough to be reminded of her choices every time she saw her face, somehow hearing it was even more gruesome.

After a few beats of silence, Juju began to speak, but Raven quickly ended the call, holding a shaking hand over her mouth.

–

Manila was puttering around the diner like a songbird, whistling and humming, blinding everyone she saw with a smile. She danced on the tips of her toes, ponytail swaying as she wiped down tables.

“What’s got you in such a cheery mood?” Carmen asked, though she knew the answer. As she moved behind the counter, she swatted her thigh with the rag.

“Mind your own business, Carrera!” She giggled. The pink in her cheeks was a telling sign, she knew, but she was much too elated to care.

“Your business is my business,” she argued good-naturedly. “If we’re on the winning team, I have a right to know.”

“There is no winning or losing,” she sang. “I’m letting go of all of that. If Raja wants me, then she’ll choose me.”

“Something in your tone makes me believe you’re hiding some details.”

“Um, Nila?” Juju chirped, emerging from the back. “George just called and asked if you could check on the restroom.”

Manila scrunched her nose. “I just did it, not even a half hour ago.”

“I’m just the messenger, girl.”

Carmen shrugged. With a sigh, Manila grabbed a broom and dustpan, pushing herself into the women’s restroom. Eyes out for any mess on the tile, she spun around when she heard a click, the door locking. She pushed against it to no avail.

“Jujubee? Let me out, this isn’t funny.”

“Not until we talk this out,” a soft voice came from behind her, and she saw Raven and Raja leaning up against two of the Pepto Bismol colored stall doors. The taller of the two had her eyes darting in every direction, nerves apparent.

“What is this? Some kind of intervention?” Manila pressed. “Raja, you and your friend are kind of freaking me out.”

Raven pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Give it up, Luzon. She knows.”

She deflated, dropping the broom to the floor. “You told her?” She whispered.

“She didn’t have to tell me,” Raja shrugged sheepishly. “I had a hunch. And I may have gone through your things?”

Manila didn’t have time to be mad. A million thoughts were circulating through her mind, and she felt dizzy. There was no backing out now; she’d have to confront Raven, and risk losing Raja.

“Look, I’m not exactly thrilled either,” Raven muttered. She took a step forward, and Manila backed up against the sink. “I know this is a lot to take in-“

“What do you know?” Manila spat, feeling her chest tighten. “You don’t know anything.”

“Manila, come on,” Raja begged. The pained expression on her face wasn’t unnoticed. Raven’s eyes narrowed, and she backed Manila into a corner.

“What do I know?” She whispered harshly. “I know exactly where you hide your snacks in your bedroom. I know where you have the scar that you got from bike riding when you were six. I know that you say that you hate yellow, but secretly love the way you look in it. I know that you’re a lactose intolerant idiot who would do anything for a chocolate shake.”

“God, you almost make it sound like you cared about me,” Manila was bitter, and hoped it reached the other two. Damn Raven, damn Raja, and damn Jujubee for making her endure this.

“You fucking moron,” Raven croaked. Manila’s eyes softened at the wavering in her voice. “I loved you.”

Raja cooed, the sound a dull echo in Manila’s ears. She shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“No. No, you left me. You abandoned me, and it made me hate myself for tearing our friendship apart!”

“I was scared,” Raven sighed, eyes defeated. “I loved you so much, but you weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to come out, for sex, to be in a serious relationship, and I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to the way we were. Manila, I couldn’t just be your friend after being with you so intimately. It would have killed me. So…I distanced myself. It was just easier that way.”

“For who?!” Manila yelled, uncaring if the whole damn building heard. “Don’t you dare act like the martyr here.”

“You’re right, I guess. I’ve regretted it ever since. Having to walk past you, pretending I wasn’t reliving my biggest mistake was torture. What was I supposed to say?”

“The truth, maybe?” The waitress said incredulously.

“I just…maybe we can move past this,” Raven dared, though her voice still trembled. “I miss my best friend.”

“I can never forgive you for this,” Manila cried. Her cheeks were hot and she wanted nothing more than to smack her across the face. “I’ve dreamed about this moment forever, and now that it’s here, I wish it had never come.” She was sputtering and red faced, stomping her foot like a child.

With a shaky breath, Raven enveloped her, despite her thrashing. Raja looked on, a strange mixture of misery and relief twisting in her stomach, as Manila relaxed in Raven’s arms, sobbing loudly.

–

Manila was sipping on her coffee, mostly to give her an excuse to sit in silence.

Raja’s long coat was draped over her shoulders, and her eyes were still slightly puffy.

“So,” Raja urged, nudging the girl in the seat next to her. She sighed and cleared her throat, a pout on her full lips.

“So,” Raven mocked. “I was thinking. Maybe we could start over. No more secrets.”

“And no more snooping,” Raja pledged. “Or silly games.”

“Like…our friendship?” Manila pondered. She saw the glances that Raja and Raven shared, and the looked like they belonged. Two puzzle pieces, and she was the rogue obstacle, wedging herself between them. If this was the sort of feeling Raven had wanted to back away from, then maybe she could begin to understand. “I’m not sure I can pretend like you’re a stranger anymore, Rave.”

“No, I mean, like, our relationship. I don’t expect forgiveness in a day, but I’m willing to try if you are,” she replied, blonde waves rustling as she failed to make eye contact. “Can I take you out?”

Manila blinked. Something flipped inside of her, a switch, like the first warm day after a long winter. Even if she wanted to refuse, she wasn’t sure it was in her power to do so.

Suddenly, she looked to Raja, fiddling with the stray hairs that framed her face.

“But…what about…”

Raja laughed airily, grabbing Manila’s hand. “I’m here, as long as you’ll have me,” she squeezed. She looked to Raven, kissing her temple. “For both of you.”

“I’m not sure how I went from being totally alone, to having the two of you,” Manila mumbled. “How would that even work? What if things get messy?”

“Maybe,” Raven started, looking between them. “We should just let things run their own course for once.”

The door chimed, a group of schoolchildren running into Royale’s with hungry stomachs and money burning a hole through their pockets. Shangela greeted them, a gaggle of laughter as she tried to help them hoist themselves up on the barstools. The clock ticked up on the wall, in time with the beat of the music, a new track that Manila had yet to hear. The tin signs and gag license plates hung above Juju as she listened to orders, reaching for the pencil she kept nestled in her hair. A man took a crisp bill from a pretty hand, and Manila dared to look up just in time to see Carmen shoot her an approving wink.

“Maybe you’re right.”

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