so, with the confirm here in 3.13 that Saskia is very committed to blowing up the Vault, it is time to raise a question I've LONG had and now feels relevant: what happens if you kill one of the Saskias?

personally, I imagine it'll suck like HELL, but she won't like... die. but, like, seriously, what happens.

February 2, 2021: Pretty Woman (1990)

ALL RISE FOR THE KING AND QUEEN OF ROMANCIA!

First, we bow to the Actor King of Romancia, Richard Gere. Gere is a DYNAMO of romantic movies, having starred in The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, American Gigolo, An Officer and a Gentleman, Sommersby, Autumn in New York, Chicago, Shall We Dance?, Runaway Bride, and of course, Pretty Woman. He was crowned king of this fictionation both because of his film prowess, and because DUDE HAS DATED A LOT OF FAMOUS PEOPLE GODDAMN

Second, we bow to the Actress Queen of Romancia, Julia Roberts.

Roberts’ resume is equally romantic, including films such as Notting Hill, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Eat Pray Love, Steel Magnolias, Mystic Pizza, Runaway Bride, and of course, Pretty Woman. She was crowned queen of this fictionation because, I mean...it’s Julia Roberts, man. Who else was gonna be queen, Meg Ryan? She’s too busy ruling the Holy Romance Empire.

Yes. Yes, I will be visiting the Holy Romance Empire soon.

Anyway, one of the advisors to this great land was the now sadly passed Garry Marshall, a seasoned romantic movie director, responsible for The Princess Diaries (and its terrible sequel), Beaches, Runaway Bride (shit, should I watch this one?), and those bad holiday romance movies from the late 2000′s. You know, Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve, Mother’s Day? Yeah, that’s the guy.

Marshall was appointed an advisor of Romancia because of his role as director of the film...you know.

Enough navel-gazing; let’s get into Pretty Woman, shall we? I, for one, am looking forward to venturing further into the land of Romancia! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

We start at a party where...George Costanza?

Huh! Phil Stuckey (Jason Alexander), a lawyer and kind of an asshole, is romancing women at a party, held on the behalf of Edward Lewis (Richard Gere), a businessman from New York. However, he’s currently in California away from his unhappy girlfriend back east, who’s feeling a tad neglected by the constantly busy Edward.

Meanwhile, on a less-than-great side of town lives Vivian Ward (Julia Roberts), a prostitute working the mean streets of Hollywood. Making her way to the red-light district, she enters the Blue Banana Club (which is...a name, that’s for sure), where she finds her roommate Kit De Luca (Laura San Giacomo). Laura’s unfortunately spent their rent on drugs, during the height of the cocaine epidemic in Hollywood.

The two meet each other on the street, where Edward’s lost, and struggling with Phil’s stick-shift Lotus Espirit. She offers to give him directions for money, and he reluctantly accepts. She gets in, and guides him back to his hotel. As he struggles to drive, she displays her knowledge of cars from back home. He then offers to drive the car for him, and also shows her prowess as a driver. Which...is pretty neat.

He asks how much she makes in her profession, as the two roll up to his hotel. As they begin to part ways, he asks her instead to accompany him into the hotel. She’s about as charmed and gawky as I would be going into a sick-ass hotel like that. The elevator in it has a FUCKING SOFA INSIDE, YES PLEASE

Edward’s a little embarrassed by her gawking, but they quickly get past it. Edward’s graveyard-still complacency is contrasted by her manic pixie energy. Not that she’s a manic pixie dream girl...I think. It’s more of a “rock-and-balloon” relationship deal. When Vivian busts out the condoms (she’s a “safety-girl”), Edward instead says he wants to “talk.”

During this talk, it’s revealed that his girlfriend has officially broken up with him, leaving him conspicuously single. He asks if she can stay the entire night, and she agrees for a price, to which he gladly agrees. They spend the night getting to know each other, although Edward is doing business during much of it. And she’s watching TV, and it gives off these kinda weird daddy-daughter vibes (not kink-shaming, mind you), and it’s...mildly uncomfortable.

This quickly progresses into her beginning to seduce him, and the two presumably have sex. We cut away just before anything happens, though. Afterwards, Edward takes a shower, as Vivian falls asleep, taking her wig off for the first time.

The next morning, Edward talks to Phil about an upcoming business purchase, when Vivian walks into the room. He’s ordered breakfast for them. ALL OF THE BREAKFAST. Seriously, everything on the menu. Motherfucker, do you KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE ROOM SERVICE IS? WE GET IT YOU’RE RICH

He reveals just how rich he is, noting that he buys companies on the brink of failure, and then sells pieces of the companies he buys. Vivian equates this to a chop-shop, which seems extremely accurate. On another call, Phil tells him that it would be better if he had a date. And it looks like...he already has one.

Yeah, Phil “hires” Vivian to be his girlfriend for a week. For $3000, she accepts, and I feel just a little icky. And yet...I dunno, we’ll see. He’s doing this purely to avoid romantic attachment, which is a little weird, but understandable? Maybe?

At this point, we get one of the most iconic scenes in the film, as the uptight women at a Rodeo Drive store tell her to leave, like assholes. They’ll get their comeuppance, though. OHHHHHH, THEY’LL get it. This compounds when the hotel manager, Barnard “Barney” Thompson (Héctor Elizondo), questions her presence there. And while it seems that he’s going to kick her out, he actually helps her out with an outfit.

Meanwhile, Edward’s business deal begins to go somewhat south, until Edward takes advantage of GOVERNMENT CORRUPTION. Anyway, Vivian goes to a local department store, where Barney’s friend Bridget (Elinor Donahue) helps her out with a cocktail dress. When she heads back, Barney acts like a bro once again and teaches her proper etiquette, Emily Post style.

Edward heads back to the hotel, where Vivian is waiting for him. And she looks cuuuuuuuuuuute. Edward thinks so, too, and they head to the corporate dinner. There waitselderly businessman James Morse (Ralph Bellamy), and his grandson David (Alex Hyde-White). We get a taste of just how vicious of a businessman Edward is, and Vivian makes a much better impression on the Morses than Edward does. Also, Eddie’s kind of a sociopath, huh? Or, at least, he has some sociopathic tendencies. I dunno his pure emotionlessness is rubbing me a weird way.

After the dinner goes VIOLENTLY south, the two begin to relate to each other a bit more. He notes that he prefers not to bring emotion into business, although he apparently does like Mr. Morse. He also notes that his father died a month ago, but it doesn’t appear to affect him much. Still he heads downstairs to get some air. Later, Vivian gets the bellhop, Dennis (Patrick Richwood) to help her find him, and she does. He’s playing piano like a GODDAMN MANIAC HOLY SHIT! Just like, “Don’t mind me, I’m just playing an operetta to PUT THE KNIFE FEELINGS TO SLEEP IAMTHEZODIACKILLER.” This manic performance is followed by the two just...fuckin’ on the piano. They just FUCK IN THE LOUNGE RIGHT ON THAT PIANO JESUS CHRIST GUYS

The next morning, post-musex, they go to get outfits together, in which Gere buys a massive set of outfits, and we get the first makeover montage this month! He also flashes even more sociopathic flair with a clothing store owner, goddamn. And that’s...when we get the song.

I mean, we had to get this song in here at some point, right? She also engages in the most iconically HUGE moment of the film. You know what I’m talking about, and it’s beautifully cathartic, my Lord.

Meanwhile, at work, Edward’s starting to...lose it, I guess? As Phil’s encouraging him to close in on Morse for the kill, Edward’s beginning to grow a heart. And may I note that he’s been in this relationship for TWO DAYS. Jesus, buddy, you’ve really never had a meaningful relationship, huh? They eventually go to a polo match for business reasons, here Phil finally meets Vivian. Vivian also notices that none of the high-society people here seem like, well...friends.

Turns out that David Morse is one of the polo players, and Vivian starts to speak with him. Phil, meanwhile, notices this, and suspects her of being a corporate spy. And Edward, like an ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE, tells her that Vivian’s a prostitute. Phil LITERALLY IMMEDIATELY GOES AFTER HER, and solicits her like a fucking CREEP.

This obviously very much upsets her, and she chews Edward out back at the hotel. And the argument that follows IMMEDIATELY puts me on Vivian’s side, because Edward’s being a sociopathic douchenozzle. Goddamn. She rightfully wants to leave, and he just lets her. And here’s the real kicker; she doesn’t take the money.

And that’s when Edward sincerely apologizes to her, as best as he can. And yeah, he’s a little sociopathic, but I can see that the dude is trying? The two make up, and once again open up to each other. Edward starts to realize, in turn, that he legitimately has feelings for her. And we head into the third act of the film.

The next day, Edward leaves work early to go on a date with Vivian, and Phil asks if the date is with “the hooker.” And Edwards flashes him a look that’s just...knifey. I’m still not convinced he isn’t the Zodiac Killer. He takes her to an opera in San Francisco, before which we get this scene.

Adorable. God, I love Vivian. Also Dennis and Barney are the best, and they’re super fucking invested, and I am HERE for it. Their date to the opera is...sublime. Understand, my girlfriend and I watched this entire film together, and we’re both in love with Vivian and the opera after it. Imma take her to the opera on a date one of these days, I swear it.

That night, they play chess together, and Edward actually takes the following day off. He also actually sleeps in a bed for once, instead of going to work. And this is when my girlfriend the following phrase:

Is he sculpting her, or is she sculpting him?

OK, that fantastic question is one of the reasons we’re together, but also a very interesting point. Lemme explain here. This is very much a Pygmalion story in a few ways. While not a straight adaptation by any means, this film is definitely taking a few ideas from the Pygmalion trope. See, if you don’t know, Pygmalion’s a Greek myth about a sculptor who falls in love with his statue. It’s been adapted multiple times throughout the history of the arts, but the most prominent version of this was the stage musical My Fair Lady, famously adapted into a film starring Audrey Hepburn in 1964.

And again, a lot of adaptations of that, too. While Pretty Woman isn’t explicitly an adaptation of either work, the themes are still present in the work. So, yeah, it’s a good point. In this version, she’s changing him as much as he’s changing her. The sculpture is sculpting the sculptor. Which is cool.

And then, as we had that cute little revelation, Vivian tells Edward that she loves him. And OH FUCK. It’s the last day. And when he says he doesn’t want this to be the last of them together, she takes it as romantic. But when he essentially proposes making her a beck-and-call girl, putting her up in an apartment and hooking her up with dresses...she’s understandably not interested. She says that, as a little girl, she dreamed of a white knight that would sweep her off her feet and take her away. But Edward isn’t that knight.

Have I mentioned how much I love Vivian? Because Vivian’s fuckin’ fantastic, Jesus Christ.

Edward decides to leave, and says that he’s done all he can at this point. He leaves, and she’s shattered. Kit, meanwhile, comes to visit her at the hotel, and she admits that she’s fallen in love with him. While Kit’s initially worried about it, she says that they could maybe settle down and buy some diamonds and a horse. I also love Kit.

Meanwhile, at the meeting with Mr. Morse, Edward turns the tables on Phil and his yes-men, and asks to speak with Mr. Morse alone. Phil’s gobsmacked by this, but agrees. Once they’re alone, Edward admits that he no longer wishes to buy his company and destroy it. Instead, he wants to help him rebuild his company. And Morse agrees, telling Edward that he’s proud of him.

Phil, EXTREMELY irritated by this, and decided to make his way to talk to Edward at the hotel. And that’s when he finds Vivian. FUUUUUUUUCK. As expected, Phil tries to r*pe her, and that’s when Edward shows up, and BEATS THE FUCK OUT OF HIM.

Edward tells Phil off, calling him an EVEN BIGGER sociopath than he is, and kicks him out. Friendship ended with Phil. Now Vivian is his best friend. But despite this, Vivian still realizes that their relationship, at least the one she wants, seems impossible. Conceding, and on his way back to New York now, Edward pays her, and tells her to call him if she ever needs anything. 

But he asks her to stay one more night with him, not because of money...BUT BECAUSE OF LOVE. And she replies that she can’t...and they part ways. Vivian goes to say goodbye to Barney, who still rules. He calls a cab for her, and says that she can visit them anytime. My girlfriend says that she would leave me for Barney, and I agree. I agree so much, because she deserves the best, and the best is Barney, and I could never BE Barney. 

I could never be Barney.

It’s over now, as the song in the background says, and Edward laments his lost relationship as the thunder rolls in. Vivian decides to finally go to San Francisco, and finish high school, inspired by Edward’s love and faith for her. She passes that faith onto Kit as she says goodbye. Fuuuuuuck, man, this goodbye hurts as well.

Edward goes to the lobby, and talks to Barney one last time. AND BARNEY TELLS EDWARD WHERE VIVIAN WENT, LIKE A GODDAMN CHAMPION. WHY CAN’T I BE AS PERFECT AS BARNEY????

He makes his way to her apartment, and buys flowers from a woman with a Cockney accent, WHICH IS A MY FAIR LADY REFERNCE! HOLY SHIT! He arrives in a white limo at her place, overcomes his fear of heights and climbs a fire escape in a metaphorical tower to rescue his princess. 

THAT’S HOLLYWOOD, BABY! And it’s Pretty Woman as well. That was a very heartwarming film, and I’m very glad that I watched it! Is it perfect? Ehhhhhhhh, see you at the Review.

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter five

[ao3]

cannot believe the malum is going somewhere now this is truly scenes...only 50k into the fic and all...would you believe that i don’t read fics over 8k long because i’m too impatient i’m literally the worlds biggest hypocrite i HATE slow burn look at me. i literally write everything i hate 

@tirednotflirting my lovely basically-co-writer i love you thank you for dealing with this shit i changed like half of it i cannot believe you had to read it in the state it was in...truly vile...also this chapter actually owes its life to @kaleidoscopeminds i wasn’t going to post today bc the laptop i have to use rn is doing my nut and bc i thought nobody cares but meg cares and so this is for her <3 

Noel gets back the next afternoon. 

He’s dishevelled, he’s sleep-deprived, he’s stone-cold sober and in a right fucking mood, but he’s there. Calum sees him at breakfast, sat at a table chatting to Alan - he’s just got off his flight, still hasn’t taken his suitcase back up to his room, looks like he hasn’t got changed in the four days he’s been gone - and when Noel spots him, he just stares for a minute, wavering, like he’s not sure how Calum’s going to react. It makes Calum falter too, because Noel’s always so certain about these things, always scoffs and says c’mon, then, don’t be a dick, all business-like, so it’s an unexpected reaction. It feels almost like a shift, feels like maybe something’s irrevocably changed, now, and he’s not really sure what to make of it, not sure whether the way his stomach flips is because of that or Noel or the comedown he’s currently pushing through. 

He heads to the table, though, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do - skip a free meal? No fucking chance - and Noel’s eyes follow him the whole way, a slight edge of trepidation leaking into the edges as Calum gets closer and closer until he’s hovering at the table. He’s not going to speak first, Calum realises. He’s going to let Calum take the lead, and that’s unusual too, nothing like the Noel that had left all of four days ago. Jesus, what the fuck do they do to the water in San Diego? Whatever it is, he hopes Noel’s brought some back for Liam to drink.

Alan’s watching the two of them, that managerial instinct telling him that something’s not quite right here, like he can see the way Calum’s skin is crawling with this strange, unknown hesitancy around Noel, and Calum doesn’t want to make a scene in front of him, so he just cocks his head and looks down at Noel.

“You’re a prick,” he says. Noel blinks, and for a brief moment Calum’s stomach drops, like maybe even that has changed, now, like maybe that’s not the right way to say I love you, you massive cunt anymore, and then Noel grins tiredly. 

“Aye,” he says simply, and Calum grins back, relief flooding his veins, and sits down opposite Noel.

It goes pretty much the same with Tony and Bonehead, although Bonehead does cuff Noel upside the head a little harder than strictly necessary. Liam doesn’t come down for food, even though he’s always the first up, and when he realises that the waiters are clearing away the chafing dishes without an indignant Mancunian telling them oi, I’ve only had six hash browns, Calum exchanges a look with Bonehead. Liam’s going to make Noel go to him, isn’t going to let them have a chance meeting. He’s going to make Noel go to him, which for Noel is the same as crawling through broken glass on his hands and knees. 

Noel does it, though, swallows his pride and heads up to Liam’s room when everybody else is chatting animatedly, relief powering the conversation. Calum doesn’t even notice he’s gone until he turns to ask Noel to back him up on Help! being better than Rubber Soul, which is probably what Noel wanted. He’d hate to make a big show of it, for everyone to know that the roles are reversed, that Noel’s going to Liam rather than Liam going to Noel. Still, though, Calum thinks, turning back to the rest of the group and launching into his impassioned defence of Help!, it’s not like Noel. Something’s changed, and Calum’s not entirely sure what, and he doesn’t fucking like it. 

The rest of them don’t see Liam and Noel all day, but when Calum passes by Liam’s room he hears two low voices talking calmly, quietly, rationally, and catches what sounds like look, you love me, I love you, so let’s make this work, and ...for mam’s sake, if nowt else. They emerge again at dinner, and don’t speak about it, and nobody dares to ask, not even Calum. It’s not like anyone else would understand, anyway; the two of them live on another fucking planet where the normal rules of brotherhood and family and basic fucking decency don’t apply. 

Once Noel and Liam have made up, though - or, at least, started calling each other cunts a little less venomously - the rest of the American leg of the tour goes off without a hitch. 

They’re there until late October, and despite an edge of tension in the band, a little uncertainty as they all try to find their feet in their new, post-Whiskey-a-Go-Go-disaster relationships, the tour goes well. Noel and Liam don’t escalate past their usual arguments, only ignore each other for a few hours at a time, and all their dates are sold out. On top of all that, the album’s hitting heights none of them had even dreamed of. 

(Well, maybe Liam had dreamed of them. In fact, Liam had laid it out plainly for them on the first day of recording, pointing accusingly first at Noel, then Bonehead, then Calum, then back to Noel, skipping Tony completely: it’s going to be number fucking one, you hear me, and it’s going to go fucking platinum, and whatever the fuck comes after platinum. It’s going to be fucking mega. ) 

Noel had written some songs while he was in San Diego, one candid acoustic ballad that makes Calum and Bonehead share a slightly alarmed glance when they hear it, and Alan insists that they’re masterpieces, so they head to a studio in Texas to record them. Calum stands with Liam behind the thick glass that separates the live room from the control room, watches as Noel blinks down at his acoustic guitar and sings I wanna talk tonight ‘bout how you saved my life and then looks up at either Calum or Liam, Calum can’t tell, and sings you and me see how we are. It sends a shiver down his spine, the sheer fucking openness of it, and for the first time makes him think shit, what was going through Noel’s head when he was gone? He’s been so preoccupied with their side of it, with Bonehead’s drinking and Tony and Maggie’s conversations and Liam shutting himself in his room that he hadn’t stopped to think about what Noel might have been feeling, about just how literally Noel means you saved my life. 

When the rest of them get back into the studio to record the other songs, though, it feels like something slotting back into place. It reminds them all who they are, what they are, and smooths over the discordance, evens out the dissonance. The five of them come out of it grinning, laughing, shaking their heads at some ridiculous tale Liam’s spinning, and it feels good. For the first time in weeks, giddy with nothing but adrenaline and love, Calum feels good. The music’s what makes them, and the music’s what fixes them. It’s an important lesson, that they can go through something like that and stitch up the wounds with a few guitar strings, and it makes them all feel a little more grounded, a little more confident that they’re back on their feet. 

The day of their flight back to the UK, when they’re all still nursing their incredible hangovers from the celebrations of finishing the North American leg of the tour the night before, Calum goes down for breakfast to find Noel and Liam already sat at the table, deep in what looks like a heated conversation. He hesitates for a moment - any conversation with the brothers whispering fiercely like that is likely a conversation he wants no part in - but it’s too late, because Noel’s seen him, and he’s beckoning him over, brows knitted together. 

“What?” Calum says warily, about three feet from the table, far enough away that he can still make a break for it if it devolves into a shouting match. 

“D’you know where we were this morning?” Noel says. Calum shrugs. He doesn’t even know where they are now, let alone where Noel and Liam might have disappeared to before he was awake. 

“We had a radio interview,” Liam says. Calum’s not sure why he’s supposed to care about that. 

“With Blur,” Noel adds, and Calum’s stomach drops. 

What the fuck? 

“What the fuck?” Calum says, trying his best to school his features into something neutral, feeling the two identical sets of blue eyes scrutinising him, watching for a reaction. “Why- what? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“We didn’t know,” Liam says, a little coolly, and takes a sip of his tea, eyes still on Calum to see how he reacts. 

“What happened?” 

“What the fuck was s’posed to happen?” Noel says, raising an eyebrow. “We did the fucking interview.” 

“Without calling them cunts?” 

“‘Course,” Liam says, pulling a cigarette out of the packet lying between himself and Noel on the table. “We’re fucking professionals, we are.” Calum snorts. The most professional thing either of them have done is turn up to a bus call only twenty minutes late. 

“You did call Damon a prick,” Noel says mildly to Liam, who waves the hand that isn’t flicking his lighter dismissively. 

“Cal asked about cunt, though, didn’t he?” he mumbles around his cigarette, and Calum and Noel both roll their eyes, Calum huffing out a laugh and Noel tutting, both edged with fondness. 

“The Sun’s going to have a fucking field day,” Calum says, deciding it’s safe enough to sit down. The two of them don’t seem in too bad of a mood; in fact, they seem a little too calm, both of them looking at Calum with almost blank expressions, heads tilted one way. “What?” Calum adds, a little defensively, and Liam leans forwards, taking the cigarette out of his mouth just so he can speak properly. 

“Mike was there,” he says, like he’s revealing a big secret that he’s been bursting to tell. Calum’s heart skips a beat, but he keeps his face straight, and just blinks at Liam. So that’s what this is about. He should’ve known, really; it would have been too much to ask for the Gallagher brothers to forget about that part of Calum’s sexual history for, like, two fucking minutes. 

“Well, he’s part of Blur, isn’t he?” Calum says. 

“He asked after you,” Noel says, far too nonchalantly, stirring his tea. Calum swallows, feeling the all-too-familiar guilt surge up in his lungs. He shouldn’t be talking to Michael. He shouldn’t have taken Michael’s number, shouldn’t have learnt it off by heart, shouldn’t have sat in Noel’s empty hotel room and turned to Michael on one of the worst days of his life. And he definitely shouldn’t have done all of that without telling Liam or Noel. 

“Oh,” Calum says. “Well.” He’s not sure what else to say, what else the guilt will even let him say. “What did you say?” Liam throws him a slightly indignant look. 

“Told him to fuck off, obviously,” he says, like he’s a little offended Calum’s even asked. “Not telling him fuck all about you, am I?” God. If it were anyone else they were talking about, Calum would feel a pure rush of love for Liam, at the fact he’s so unquestioningly and unnecessarily protective of Calum, but because it’s Michael, a huge surge of guilt washes over the love that rises in him, lapping at his veins before the love can get there. 

“Oh,” Calum says again, and Liam just turns back to his tea, clearly thinking the conversation’s over, that what needed to be said has been said and satisfied with Calum’s response. Noel, though, is still looking at Calum, something too perceptive in his cool blue eyes. 

“Why would he ask?” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice, something cold and challenging. 

“What d’you mean?” Calum says, holding his gaze, trying to push all the panic rising in his chest back before it reaches his eyes. Shit, what the fuck had Michael said? Did he mention anything about the phone call? Does Noel know?

“Seems a bit friendly.” Noel’s eyes are carefully blank, expression guarded, not giving anything away, cards held close to his chest. 

“He’s a friendly guy,” Calum says, relieved at how even his voice comes out. “Just because you two are cunts.” At that, Liam looks up again, frowning. 

“Who’s a cunt?” he says, incensed. Calum almost lets out a sigh of relief - if Liam’s back in the conversation, Noel won’t say anything else. At least, not now, he won’t. Calum’s just buying himself time, really; Noel’s going to stew on it, mull it over on late-night bus calls and midday hangovers, and come back to Calum when he thinks he’s got something infallible to slash at Calum’s defences with.

“You are,” Noel tells Liam. 

“You are too,” Calum reminds him, and Noel shrugs. 

“Could be worse,” he says. “Could be Damon Albarn.” Liam snorts, and even Calum has to roll his eyes and shake his head, reaching over for Noel’s tea and pulling it towards him, wanting something to do with his jittery fingers. Noel lets him, even pushes a packet of sugar in his direction because he knows Calum can’t stand drinking tea unless it’s immediately going to give him diabetes, and Calum smiles, watching as something a little disarmed crosses Noel’s face for a split second before he schools his features back into that half-irritated, half-challenging expression that’s so Noel he might as well patent it. 

Strange, Calum thinks, as he empties the entire packet of sugar into what’s now his tea. Noel doesn’t have chinks in his armour, not really. At least, not when it comes to anyone whose name doesn’t start with an ‘L’ and end with an ‘iam’, and last time Calum checked, he wasn’t a loud-mouthed twat from Manchester that Noel’s been exasperatedly hauling out of trouble for the past two decades. He doesn’t really have time to wonder what it’s about, though, because then Liam’s sighing loudly, raising his hand to catch the nearest waiter’s attention, and saying: “Alright, mate, don’t happen to know where the best place to score coke around here is, do you?” 

“Liam,” Noel says warningly, the well-worn older-brother irritation already lacing his tone, and Liam just shoots him a what? sort of look, as the waiter stares back at them. 

“Coke?” he asks, a little hesitantly, like he’s sure he’s misunderstanding what Liam’s asking. 

“Yeah, mate, y’know, the old Colombian marching powder,” Liam says, nodding his head, like this is a perfectly normal conversation to have with a waiter at ten in the morning. 

“I- uh, sir, I’m not sure-” the waiter starts, a little nervously, and Liam leans forwards. 

“Cocaine, mate,” he says slowly, clearly thinking the waiter’s not caught on, like that’s the only possible explanation for why he’s not immediately gone oh, yeah, ‘course, hang on, let me my local dealer on the line.

“Piss off, Liam,” Noel says, a definite note of annoyance in his voice now, and Liam’s like a shark to blood, turns away from the waiter, all thoughts of getting whatever white powder he can procure up his nose forgotten as he spots a new drug of choice; arguing with Noel. It’s something Calum’s seen a hundred times, the way Liam will find a gap in Noel’s defences and worm his way in, make a home under Noel’s skin just for a few minutes of his attention, and it’s not something he fancies sticking around to watch, knowing it’ll end with fists flying with no regard for who might be caught in the crossfire.

“I’m going back up,” he says, even though he hasn’t eaten yet, but neither Noel or Liam are listening anymore, already caught in a half-hissed, half-yelled conversation about whether it’s inappropriate or street-smart to ask a random local guy for coke plugs at his job, Liam, at his fucking job, and do you know how many fucking hotels we’ve been kicked out of because of you so far this year? Liam’s raising his voice as Calum walks out of the room, shouting something about me? It’s not just me, you prick, you were in fucking Sweden as well, right, and you’re the one who took off to fucking San Diego, what the fuck else was I going to do while we all waited for you to stop being such a pathetic little cunt? , and Calum knows he’s left just in time when he hears the sound of crockery shattering in the distance as he jogs back up the stairs to his room. He doesn’t really mind, though, doesn’t care if they get kicked out of this hotel too, because all he can think, heart pounding, is why the fuck did Michael ask after me, when the last thing he might have heard is me calling him ‘no one’?

He doesn’t even get time to think about that, though, because Bonehead’s on his way down as Calum’s on his way up, and he blocks Calum’s path and insists Calum join him on a walk to the supermarket because the amount of beer he’s going to have to drink to deal with the brothers on an eight hour flight back home needs two people to carry it. Calum thinks shit, he’s right, so they fetch Tony to carry all the alcohol Calum’s going to need to drink too, and then spend the walk to the shop and the entire time traipsing around it arguing about whether or not Tony should get any of the alcohol they’re loading into their arms. Calum weighs in for the first ten minutes, but it becomes clear Bonehead and Tony are just looking to fight about something, so Calum draws back and lets them have at each other, walks next to them and lets the sound of their rowing wash over him as his thoughts turn back to Michael.

Did Michael really want to know? Or was it a power play, him saying something to Liam and Noel knowing it would get back to Calum? No, surely not, Calum thinks, as Tony and Bonehead bicker about whether or not Tony deserves at least one of the six-packs Bonehead’s picked up. Michael wouldn’t do that. He’s not that kind of person. 

Maybe Michael isn’t, a little voice in his head says, but maybe Mike is. You don’t know Mike, do you? 

(Calum thrusts one of his six-packs at Tony, suddenly feeling a little too sick to drink.)

  -------

  They head back to Europe in November, first to the UK to record Whatever, and then straight off to France. Noel even manages to make a joke about the Amsterdam ferry incident as they’re waiting to board in Dover, which is as close to saying I forgive you to Liam for the episode as he’s going to get. 

Calum doesn’t speak to Michael for almost two months. He doesn’t want to call first, after the way the last call ended and still uncertain about the whole Michael-Liam-Noel situation, and Michael doesn’t call him. Calum tries not to dwell on it, to think too hard about the sound of the dial tone and the way he’d called Michael no one, but Blur are fucking everywhere. It seems like they’re playing all the same places as Oasis but a few weeks earlier, because every time Calum walks down a French street he’s accosted by blown up images of Michael’s face, moody and pretty, staring down at him from billboards and bus stops and fucking lampposts. 

It’s one of those posters stuck haphazardly onto a lamppost in Berlin that Calum sees, a few hours before they’re due to play a show, that reminds him, with a jolt, what the date is. 

The twentieth of November. 

Michael’s birthday. 

Calum’s almost taken aback that he remembers. He’d forgotten for the past three or four years - the date had passed him by without so much as a second glance - and the thought makes him feel a little guilty, a little sick, like he’s broken a promise to himself that he never even knew he made. 

There’s a little phone booth next to the lamppost that looks like it might not even be working, and Calum finds himself striding in that direction, fumbling in his pocket for the few German coins he’d been given. It’s nothing, he tells himself, as he starts dialling Michael’s number. It’s just polite to wish someone a happy birthday. It doesn’t mean anything. 

It only takes two rings for someone to pick up, a soft click and a moment of silence at the other end of the line.

“Hello?” It’s not Michael; it’s a woman. Maybe Michael has a house-sitter? Calum’s pretty sure Michael must be loaded now, right, if he’s in Blur? He’s probably not pissing all his royalties away on drink and drugs. They probably have a group accountant to manage everything for them, rather than Noel cuffing them all upside the head and going eeyar, yous need to start buying cheaper coke.  

“Oh,” Calum says. “Uh. I’m looking for Michael?” 

“He’s in Japan at the moment,” the woman says. Her voice is sweet and warm, almost comforting, and oddly familiar. It’s probably just the Australian accent, Calum thinks. Anyone with an Australian accent has sounded familiar to him since he left.

“Oh,” Calum says again. He should’ve guessed, really. Of course Michael’s not at home. He’s in a fucking band. In Blur, no less. Of course he’s on tour. 

“May I ask who’s calling?” the woman says. Calum hesitates. 

“Just a friend,” he says, a little evasively. “Just- uh. Wanted to wish him a happy birthday, is all.” 

“Oh, that’s lovely,” the woman says, and she sounds like she’s smiling. “I can give you the number of his hotel room in Japan, if you’d like.” 

“I-” Calum’s not sure what to say to that. He might be sending a message he’s not entirely sure he wants to send if Michael finds out Calum had called his house first, and then got the number for his hotel in Japan. 

“Or I can pass along a message?” the woman offers. “What’s the name?” Calum bites his lip. It can’t hurt, he thinks. It’s not like Michael will have spoken about Calum to anyone who’s known him in the past few years, if he hadn’t told his own bandmates. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Yeah, that’d be good, thanks. It’s Calum.” The woman lets out a little gasp. 

“Calum Hood?” she says, and Calum’s stomach drops. "I should have recognised your voice! You've lost your accent, haven't you?"

“Uh,” he says intelligently, but she’s already started talking again. 

“It’s Karen,” she says. 

Oh, fucking hell. 

“Oh,” Calum says. Fuck. Jesus Christ. Of course it’s Michael’s mum. Of course Michael wouldn’t get a fucking house-sitter, rich and in Blur or not. It’s oddly steadying, though, that in this instance at least Michael’s Michael and not Mike, makes something electric shoot through Calum as he thinks maybe I still know enough of him. “Uh. Hi?” 

“I didn’t know you and Michael were still in contact,” she says, and he can hear the grin in her voice, how happy she sounds about it. It makes his stomach twist in guilt, heavy and leaden. 

“Yeah,” Calum says weakly. “Well. Not really. But- y’know. It’s his birthday.” He cringes at his own words, stilted and uncomfortable, but Karen doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I’m sure he’ll want to hear from you himself,” she says jovially. “I’ll give you his number, hang on a minute.”

“Actually, I-”

“Yes, here it is. Have you got a pen and paper?”

“I don’t-” Calum breaks off, looking wildly around him, and picks up the pen on the top of the telephone keypad, scratching it against the sign that tells him how much of his money he’s pissing away on this phone call. He’s roped into this, now, isn’t he? Karen will tell Michael Calum called, and if Calum doesn’t call Michael after telling Karen he would, it’ll look suspicious. Or it’ll look like he doesn’t care enough, which, with their fragile balance and Calum not knowing where Michael’s head’s at, is the last thing he wants. 

“Okay. It’s oh-one-two,” Karen begins, and Calum nods along as she reels off the number for him, phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder as he forces the last of the ink from the pen onto his hand. “Oh, and the country code is zero-zero-eight-one.” Great. Now he can’t even use that as an excuse. 

“Thanks,” Calum says, hoping it comes out genuine and not sarcastic. “I’ll, uh. I’ll call him, then.” 

“Do,” Karen says, and Calum can tell she’s positively beaming. God, he’s a terrible person. “I’m so happy you called, Calum. I should have known you two would have stayed in contact and not let any of this Blur versus Oasis nonsense get in the way of your friendship.” 

“Yeah,” Calum says feebly, feeling guilt tap insistently at his lungs, waiting to be let in. “Well. It was nice talking to you?” He’s not sure how to end a phone call that isn’t either a polite speak to you soon or an exasperated Liam, you cunt, don’t you fucking hang up on m- 

“Of course!” Karen says brightly. “I’m very proud of you, Calum. Y’know, I remember you getting your first ever guitar, and look at you now. I’m glad you kept your head screwed on straight.” Calum thinks of the three thin white lines Liam had cut for him earlier that are probably still in his bloodstream, and winces. 

“Yeah,” he says, trying for grateful. “I, uh, I try. Thank you.” 

“I’m sure I’ll speak to you soon,” Karen says. “I hope you manage to catch Michael!” 

“Thanks,” Calum says again, and hopes he doesn’t sound like he wants to gouge his own eyes out. Karen doesn’t seem to notice, though, just chirps a happy goodbye! and leaves Calum to stare at the telephone keypad, holding the receiver loosely in his hand, like he can’t really believe what’s just happened. 

Well, fuck. Now he’s got to call fucking Japan. 

Calum sighs and starts dialling the number, sending out prayers that Noel’s got some really big fucking tunes up his sleeve for the next album to pay for this call. It rings three times, and then there’s a click as someone picks up. 

“Hello?” It’s not Michael. Jesus Christ. Why the fuck is wishing someone a happy birthday this much of an ordeal?

“Is Michael there?” he asks. There’s a short pause. 

“Who’s calling?”

“A friend,” Calum says. “Who’s this?”

“Graham.” Which one was that? The one with glasses, right? The other guitarist? 

“Right. Is Michael around?” 

“Depends on who’s calling.” Calum sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Wishing someone a happy birthday really shouldn’t be this fucking hard.

“It’s Calum,” he mumbles. “From Oasis,” he adds, in case Michael happens to have met a few more Calums in the past couple of years. 

“What the hell are you calling for?” 

“Why the hell d’you think?” Calum knows he sounds hostile, but he doesn’t care, not when the nervousness that had been contained in his stomach is starting to seep out into his bloodstream.

There’s another pause. 

“Alright,” Graham says, but he still sounds suspicious. There’s a rustling sound, and then Calum hears him yell Mike! Calum’s on the phone for you. Yes, Oasis Calum, d’you know any other Calums? Well, okay, yeah, but you haven’t spoken to him since last Chri-

Every second feels like an eternity - although that’s probably at least slightly to do with the fact that he’s spending his entire month’s pay on this call - but eventually there’s more rustling, some fierce muttering that Calum can’t understand beyond - in the bathroom, you dick, and then the sound of a phone being lifted to someone’s ear. 

“Calum?” Michael says, and there are footsteps, like he’s walking as far away from the handset as possible. 

“Happy birthday,” Calum says lamely. All of this for those two words. It feels incredibly anticlimactic. 

“Oh,” Michael says, and he sounds surprised. “I mean. Thanks. I didn’t think you’d remember.” Neither did Calum. 

“Well,” Calum says, because he doesn’t want to say that. “Just wanted to call and- uh, say happy birthday, I guess.” 

“How’d you get this number?” Michael asks, sounding curious. Calum bites his lip. 

“Your mum gave it to me,” he says. 

“You rang my house?” 

“Well, it’s the only number I have for you, isn’t it?” 

“Did you tell her it was you?” 

“Yeah.” Michael exhales heavily. 

“I haven’t told her,” he admits. “That we’re talking again. Or- y’know. I just haven’t mentioned.” 

“I know,” Calum says. “She was surprised that I called.”

“What did she say?” Michael asks. Calum swallows. 

“Just, y’know, nice to hear from me, she’s glad I called, all that,” he says vaguely. Michael hums, like he’s mulling it over, and Calum’s stomach flips. Maybe he shouldn’t have called at all. Maybe Michael wants Calum to be his dirty little secret just as much as Calum wants Michael to be his. After all, Calum’s own mum doesn't know either, does she? It’d be hypocritical of Calum to hold it against Michael if he wanted to keep it under wraps too. 

(It still kind of stings, though.)

“I’m going to get a fucking Spanish Inquisition when I get home,” Michael says eventually, and Calum huffs out a laugh, stomach untangling itself a little from the tight knot it’s been in for the past five minutes. 

“Yeah, probably,” he says, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face as he thinks back to being grilled and reprimanded by Karen any time she got so much as a whiff of a secret from either of them. “D’you remember that time she thought we-”

“Remember when she thought we’d been out smoking weed?” Michael blurts at the same time, and Calum can’t help but smile properly this time, heart somersaulting at the fact that Michael remembers too. 

“She was so angry,” Calum says, through a grin. “Kept saying she could smell it on you.”

“Fucking crazy woman,” Michael says, but Calum can hear that he’s grinning too. “We couldn’t afford weed, what was she on about? We hadn’t even been drinking, just been-” he cuts himself off abruptly, and the smile drops off Calum’s face. 

They’d been fucking, is what they’d been doing.

“Good thing she didn’t smell that on us,” Calum tries, and Michael huffs out a small laugh, but it’s tight and uncomfortable. Neither of them speak again for a moment, the silence awkward and palpable, until Michael sighs. 

“What are we doing?” he mumbles, sounding a little pained. 

“I’m wishing you a happy birthday,” Calum says, because he doesn’t want to follow the road that Michael’s words are beckoning him down.

“You know what I mean,” Michael says. “We need to talk.” Calum’s stomach twists. Those words are never followed by any good conversations. 

“Do we?” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound as apprehensive to Michael as it does to him. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to have that conversation, to hear Michael say you fucked up, and this is it, doesn’t want to have to go all the way to see him just to hear him say I don’t want you anymore.  

“When are you back in the UK?” 

“December,” Calum says. “Late December. Near Christmas, I think. I’ll have to ask Maggie.” 

“Maggie?”

“Our tour manager.” 

“Oh.” There’s a moment of silence. “Well. Call me when you’re back?” 

“Look,” Calum says, a little desperately, clutching the receiver to his ear. “I- if you want to, like, end whatever this is, not talk to me anymore, I’d rather you just do it now. I don’t want to travel all the way to London for you to tell me you never want to speak to me again.” Michael inhales, and doesn’t exhale. 

“I didn’t say that,” he says carefully, after a minute. “But we need to talk.” Calum blinks at the telephone keypad. He’s not sure what to make of that. 

“Okay,” he says. “I- uh, yeah. Okay. I’ll call you when I’m back home?” 

“Yeah,” Michael says. He pauses, and then adds: “I should go. I locked Graham in the bathroom to take this call.” Calum can’t help the snort that escapes him. 

“I should try that on Liam,” he says. 

“I think it’d take more than a bathroom door to contain Liam Gallagher,” Michael says. He’s got a point. 

“You’ve got a point,” Calum concedes, and he hears Michael huff out a small laugh at the other end of the line, crackled and tinny but genuine and soft. “I should probably go too. I’ve got a show in a few hours.” 

“Where?” 

“Berlin.” Michael hums. 

“We played there a few weeks ago,” he says. 

“I know,” Calum says, without thinking. “Uh. I mean. The posters are all still up.” 

“Surprised Liam and Noel haven’t gone around tearing them all down,” Michael says, and Calum can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I think they’re planning on pasting posters of us over you.” 

“Hope they have a lot of them.” Calum grins, eyeing the three Blur posters he can see in his line of vision. 

“That’ll be my entire share of the royalties gone,” he says, and Michael snorts. 

“I really should go,” he says, sounding a little regretful. “I’ve got to spend at least half an hour convincing Graham not to tell Damon I locked him in a bathroom to talk to you.” 

“Why?” Calum’s not sure why he asks, because he’s fairly certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer. Because I don’t want anyone to know we’re talking. Because I want to keep you a secret. Because I’m ashamed of you. It’s even worse because he can’t blame Michael for it.

“If I do anything to Graham, Damon takes it as a personal attack.” Oh. Well. That probably shouldn’t make something warm blossom in Calum’s stomach, the fact that it’s not because of him, but it does. 

“Damon doesn’t seem particularly intimidating,” Calum says. 

“You fucking wait,” Michael says, and there’s a fondness to his tone that makes Calum’s heart ache, because Michael used to talk about him like that. “Call me when you’re back in the UK, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Bye, Michael.” He’s expecting a click, the thin sound of the dial tone, but it doesn’t come. 

“I’m glad you called,” Michael says after a moment, all in a rush, like he’s had to build up the nerve to say it. 

“I’m glad I did, too,” Calum says, and he can’t help the small smile playing at his lips. Michael’s glad he called. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Michael says. 

“Yeah,” Calum says, smile slipping off his face as his stomach flips unpleasantly thinking of the inevitable conversation. “Soon.” 

The dial tone rings loud and harsh, and Calum listens to it for a good few moments before putting the phone down and stepping out of the booth. Three Michaels stare at him from different angles as he heads back for the hotel, declaring something in German that he can’t read, eyes seeming to follow Calum as he turns the corner. They seem almost disapproving, like they know Calum doesn’t want to talk. Or maybe that’s Calum’s guilt-ridden imagination. 

Well, Calum thinks, stomach flipping as his eyes find another picture of Michael plastered to a lamppost. At least they aren’t posters of Noel and Liam, in that case. 

  -------

  December comes far too soon. 

The album goes platinum while they’re in Southampton, or maybe Sheffield, and Calum joins the rest of the band at some grimy nightclub, drunk and high and full of adrenaline because shit, that’s their fucking album. Number one and platinum, fucking hell. It doesn’t feel fucking real.

They film a video for Whatever somewhere in London, and Noel turns up late to the filming, still dressed in his clothes from the night before, so drunk that he can barely play his guitar. Liam’s fucking furious, probably because this is the first time Noel’s ever been drunker than him, and Calum has to spend the rest of the day making sure Liam doesn’t go into the same room as Noel, because they still have a few weeks worth of dates in the UK and they could do with having both the lead guitarist and singer alive for them. 

The UK dates pass so fast in blurs of games of Frustration on the tour bus as green and grey whip past the window that Calum barely notices that it’s their week off until he sees a river that looks suspiciously like the Mersey and asks Noel where they are. 

(“Liverpool,” Noel says, throwing him a strange look. 

“We’re going home tomorrow,” Liam adds.

“Too right you’re fucking going home,” Noel says. “Not fucking kipping at mine again.” Liam scowls, opens his mouth with an indignant expression, and Calum decides now’s a great time to find Alan and ask him about the re-stringing of Calum’s bass he’d said he’d sort out before the gig.) 

He’s so exhausted after their last show, having his first proper comedown in weeks, that he can’t do anything but crash through the front door and stumble to his bed at six in the morning. He sleeps like the fucking dead, and by the time he gets up and showers, feeling a bit more alive than he has done the past few days, it’s nearly dark outside. 

“Good morning,” his mum says pointedly, when he wanders into the kitchen, yawning, and pulls open the fridge. 

“Morning,” Calum says, pulling out a beer and some leftover pasta. “Where’s Dad?” 

“Gone fishing,” his mum says. Calum grunts to let her know he’s acknowledged it, and heads to the microwave. 

“Liam called earlier,” his mum says, as he presses some random buttons - he really should figure out how this microwave works - and then sets it off. 

“Oh?” Calum says. 

“He was asking if you wanted to come round tonight,” his mum says. Calum hums, frowning a little. Liam’s not very good at being on his own, no one to take his endless energy out on now that both Paul and Noel have moved out, but he can usually take at least a day or two. 

“Might do,” he says, because there might be something more to it if Liam’s already itching to see him again after less than twenty-four hours, and then sees the disappointed look on his mum’s face. “After dinner?” Her face clears, and she nods. 

“We’ll be eating around seven,” she says. “Oh, and another bit of wall’s fallen in. Could you take a look?” Calum groans, and tips his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, drawing out the first syllable. His mum tuts, and the microwave dings. “Yeah, alright.” He opens his eyes and reaches for the microwave. 

“Michael called, too,” his mum says, and Calum swears again as the plate drops out of his hand and crashes to the floor, smashing to pieces and dropping hot, steaming pasta everywhere. His mum jumps out of the way, swears loudly, and says: “Bloody hell, Calum.”

“Sorry,” Calum says, scrambling to his knees to try and pick up as many pieces of plate as he can. “It was hot.” His cheeks are burning, partially from embarrassment and partially from whatever’s making his heart race like it is, and he stares steadfastly at the floor as he shuffles around. 

“What did he want?” Calum asks, as casually as he can, speaking to the floor. 

“He didn’t say,” his mum says. She hesitates, and then adds: “What’s going on with you two?” Fuck if Calum knows. 

“I don’t know,” Calum says, still not looking at her. He doesn’t want to see the inevitable disapproving look on her face, the motherly instinct to stop him doing something that’s probably just going to get him hurt etched on her features.  

“When did you start speaking again?” Calum hesitates, hand hovering over a shard of ceramic. He’s not really sure himself. Would it be the awards show? Or Glastonbury? Or that first phone call a few weeks later? It’d be Glastonbury, he supposes, because Michael hadn’t even acknowledged his existence at the awards show, couldn’t even look Calum in the eye. Glastonbury had been the first time Michael had admitted to the both of them that he still remembered Calum. 

“Glastonbury,” he says, and his mum inhales sharply. 

“Why didn’t you say?” she asks. Calum sits back on his heels, looking up at her, and shrugs. 

“I didn’t know how,” he says, which is sort of the truth. He leaves out the fact that he hadn’t really wanted to tell her, had wanted to squirrel it away, the last little piece of Michael that he could have to himself. 

Her expression softens, and she purses her lips, a little sadly. 

“Be careful with him,” she says, and Calum’s not sure whether she means Calum should protect himself or protect Michael. After all, she’d seen all the unopened letters Michael had sent.

“Yeah,” he says, looking back down at the pasta still spread across the floor. It feels sort of fitting, somehow. “I’ll try.” His mum sighs, and pushes herself off the kitchen counter she’s been leaning against. 

“Go,” she says. “I’ll clean this up.” 

“No, it’s alright, I-”

“Go,” she says, a little more sternly, and Calum gets to his knees, wiping his hands and dusting his knees off. 

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll just-” 

“Call him,” she says. He hates that she knows him so well. 

Calum heads out for the phone in the hallway, not wanting to take the call in the living room or kitchen where his mum might eavesdrop, and dials Michael’s number. He twirls the cord around his finger while it rings three times, until there’s a click and someone picks up.

“Hello?” 

“Hi.”

“Oh,” Michael says. “Hi. Your mum said you were asleep.” 

“Yeah,” Calum says, a little apologetically. “I didn’t get up until, like, half an hour ago. We played our last show for a while yesterday.” 

“Oh,” Michael says again, a note of recognition in his voice. Of course, Calum thinks; Michael’ll know what last shows - particularly home shows - are like. “Well. I just wanted to see if you were home, really.” He doesn’t say why, but they both know. 

“I am ‘til the twenty-seventh,” Calum says. Michael hums. 

“When can you come down?” Calum exhales heavily. He could go down any day, really. Tomorrow, if Michael wanted. He’s not sure whether he should just get it over with, or whether he should make the most of the last few days that he might have with the secret feeling of maybe there’s still hope. It’s been six months; he can probably stand a few more days of anticipation. But then again, it’ll be better to get it out of the way now, to have as long before Christmas as he can to gather himself after whatever Michael will throw his way so that it’s not overshadowing the few days his parents will get with him before he’s off again. 

“Tomorrow?” he offers, a little tentatively. He’s not sure whether it seems a bit too keen. 

“Yeah, tomorrow’s good,” Michael says. 

“I can be in London for twelve?” He winces, thinking about how early he’s going to have to get up for that. 

“Twelve works. Where d’you come in?” 

“Euston.” 

“Can you get to Camden?” Michael asks. “Or d’you want me to pick you up?” 

“No, I can get there,” Calum says, even though he’s not entirely sure he can. 

“Alright. I’ll give you my address, hang on-” there’s scrambling at the other end of the line. 

“D’you not know your own address?” 

“I- well, sort of, but-” Calum can’t help but laugh. “Fuck you,” Michael says, but Calum can hear he’s smiling too. “You got a pen and paper?” 

“Yeah,” Calum says. Michael reels off an address, postcode and all, and Calum dutifully jots it down, only stopping him once to ask whether he’d said D or E. 

“Alright,” Calum says, re-capping the pen and tearing the sheet of paper off the pad next to the phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

“See you tomorrow,” Michael echoes, and Calum only hesitates for a moment before hanging up. It feels strange, he thinks, not to hear the dial tone ringing in his ear, one last reminder of Michael even after he’s gone.

(He wonders whether Michael lingered like he always does.) 

  -------

  Liam ends up coming round for dinner, sounding relieved and grateful when Calum calls him and offers, making Calum frown and file the information away to quiz him on later. Calum’s mum rolls her eyes and makes exasperated noises when Calum tells her he’s coming, because now I have to make dinner for four people, Calum, couldn’t you have told me a bit earlier? but Calum knows she doesn’t really mind. Brash and corrosive though Liam can be, he’s got a childlike charm to him that captivates anybody who meets him, Calum’s parents included. They spend dinner laughing at stories Liam tells about tour, exaggerated and carefully skipping over all the drug use, and Calum’s mum even waves them away when they go to help wash up, tells them with a smile to head to the pub, go on, enjoy yourselves, you deserve it. 

“I fucking love your mam,” Liam says, practically skipping as they walk down the dark street to the pub. He’s not even wearing a coat, the fucking madman. Calum huddles further into his own, nosing into the collar of it as the cold wind whips at him. 

“You’re just saying that because she made your favourite pasta,” Calum says, and Liam turns back to him and grins. 

“Didn’t hurt,” he says. “C’mon, it’s cold.” 

“Why the fuck didn’t you bring a coat?” Liam shrugs, hopping from foot to foot. Calum’s not sure whether it’s because he’s cold, or because he’s Liam. 

“Nearly there, anyway,” Liam says, as they round the corner to the street the pub’s on. “Mam gave me a tenner for drinks.” Calum snorts. 

“Why’s your mum giving you money for drinks?” he says. “You’ve got a fucking number one album.” Liam grins. 

“Still the youngest kid, though, aren’t I?” he says, eyes twinkling. He’s got a point. Peggy would never give Noel a tenner for the pub. 

“Y’know, I can see why Noel hates you,” Calum comments, and Liam’s grin widens as he pushes open the door of the pub. 

It’s warm inside, and Calum says he’ll get them a table if Liam gets the drinks, which Liam doesn’t want to do until he sees a pretty girl tending the bar, and then he’s off like a shot. Calum squeezes between a bunch of tipsy men laughing far too loudly into a table in the back corner, wrinkling his nose as he steadies himself on the table and comes into contact with something sticky. Gross. 

Liam, inevitably, takes a good twenty minutes to come back with the drinks and a phone number tucked into his shirt pocket, grinning and eyes twinkling as he sets Calum’s pint down opposite him. 

“Took your fucking time,” Calum says, raising an eyebrow, and lifts the pint to his lips. 

“Did you fucking see her?” Liam says. “‘Course I took my bloody time.” He takes a sip from his own pint, and then nods at Calum’s. “You owe me for that.” 

“No I don’t,” Calum says. Liam scowls at him.

“That’s your fucking Christmas present then,” he says, and Calum rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling into his beer.

They drink in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Calum’s enjoying the warmth of the pub, the familiarity, the way it feels a little like home. He wonders whether Sydney would feel foreign to him now, whether he’d still love the feeling of the warm sand under his feet at Christmas. 

“We used to go to the beach at Christmas,” he says, without thinking. Liam shoots him a strange look, before his face clears. 

“Oh, ‘s all the wrong way round down there, innit?” he says, like he’s just remembered. “Must be weird for you, Christmas being cold.” Calum shrugs. 

“It was at first,” he says. “I’m used to it now.” 

“Oh aye?” Liam sounds genuinely interested, so Calum carries on. 

“Yeah,” he says, with another shrug. “I never saw snow until I moved here.” 

“Did it freak you out?” Liam asks. “Seeing things all white, and that.” Calum blinks at him. 

“What?” 

“Well, if you’d never seen snow, what’d you think all the white stuff was?”

“I knew what snow was, you fucking idiot,” Calum says incredulously. “Fucking hell.” 

“Well, how the fuck am I meant to know that?” Liam says defensively. 

“You ever seen a camel? You think camels don’t exist?” 

“ Yeah, but-”

“You thought I didn’t know what snow was?” 

“How the fuck am I meant to know what they do and don’t teach you in Australia?” Liam demands, and Calum snorts and shakes his head. 

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” Calum says, even though Liam thinking Calum didn’t know what snow was until he moved to the UK is entirely believable. Liam scowls, but it’s good-natured. 

“Fuck you,” he says. “You wait, I’m going to fucking leave you in Australia when we tour there.” 

“You wouldn’t last a minute without me,” Calum says confidently. “Who’ll save you from the bities?” 

“The fucking what? Bikeys?” 

“Or the freshies and salties?” 

“What? Those aren’t words. You’re fucking making this up, you are.” Calum laughs, and Liam folds his arms, resting his elbows on the table.

“Watch it,” Calum says, nodding at his elbows. “Table’s sticky.” Liam looks down, and grimaces, unsticking himself from the table. 

“Couldn’t’ve told me that before, could you, you prick?” he grumbles, dusting off his elbows, like it’s going to get rid of the stale beer. 

“Didn’t know you were going to put your fucking elbows down, did I?” Calum says, and Liam just sticks two fingers up at him as he reaches for his drink again, making Calum grin in response and wink at him over the rim of his own glass. 

They drink in silence for a while, listening to the chatter in the pub as they let the cosy atmosphere and the drinks warm them from the inside out. It’s nice, Calum thinks, downing the last of his pint. He hasn’t been alone with Liam in God knows how long, been stuck on tour buses and in planes with him and at least five other people for far too long, and he realises just how much he’s really missed his one-on-one time with Liam, the easy comfort of a friendship that both of them fall into without even thinking about it, the security of knowing their lives are irrevocably intertwined now. It’s nice that they don’t have to speak, that they can just sit here and drink each other in, just exist alongside each other in quiet peace.

Liam’s not usually this quiet for long, though, usually can’t contain his incessant energy for more than three minute bursts at a time, but Calum knows better than to push. There’s something there, but Liam will say it when he’s ready to say it, and not a moment sooner. Calum’s been burnt one too many times by his own good intentions in that area, so he just sits back, pushes his glass away from himself and waits. It only takes another few minutes of Liam staring down at the bottom of his glass, brows furrowed and deep in thought, until he suddenly says:

“Noel’s moving to London.” The penny drops. 

Ah. 

“Is he?” Calum says, although really, he’s not that surprised. They’re getting somewhere, and Manchester’s not exactly the place for an up-and-coming musician to be based. It’s been at the back of his own mind, but he’s been pushing it aside, preoccupied with too many other more pressing issues to worry about the logistics of moving that far out. 

“Yeah,” Liam says, still staring at the bottom of his glass. 

“You knew he would,” Calum says, trying to make it as gentle as possible. 

“I know,” Liam says. He doesn’t sound as upset about it as Calum had expected, actually. “He’s going to look at houses tomorrow.” Shit. London’s big, though, isn’t it? What are the odds that he’ll bump into Noel? 

“Did he say where?” Calum asks, hoping it comes out casual. He wishes he had another pint in front of him, wanting something to do with his hands and feeling just how sober he is all of a sudden, so used to either being on a high or a comedown. 

“Yeah, but fuck if I remember,” Liam says, with a shrug. “I’m going with him. Cunt’s making me get up at eight to catch the train.” Oh, fucking brilliant. Two Gallaghers to avoid in London, not just one. Is it too late to call Michael and reschedule? Probably; his mum’ll be listening if he makes a phone call when he gets back from the pub, and he doesn’t want to deal with all those questions. It does explain, though, why Liam doesn’t seem all too torn up about Noel moving so far away; Noel allowing Liam to come and look around with him is a silent acknowledgement that he knows Liam’ll be spending more time there than he will at home, most likely, so it’s got to be a place he likes too. 

“You’re a fucking scrounger,” Calum tells him, knowing Liam will know what he’s talking aout, and the ghost of a smile crosses Liam’s lips, but doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he plays with the rim of his glass. Calum frowns. He’s missing something.

“What?” he asks, and Liam shrugs, a little uncomfortably. He’s feeling something he’s not sure how to articulate, then, something he can’t channel into punches or barbed words. It’s something to do with Noel, because that’s the only topic he never knows how to approach while knowing exactly how to navigate it with his eyes shut and his hands tied behind his back, but it’s not something that Noel’s done, or Calum would be fucking hearing about it, and it’s not something that Liam’s done, or Calum would also be fucking hearing about it, but from Noel. It’s got to be something else, something that Noel doesn’t know about yet, something internal for Liam. Something about him moving to London, maybe, since he’s managed to bring that part up. Something that Liam feels about Noel moving to London, something that’s making him hesitant about accepting that he’s going to be spending a lot of time at Noel’s new place-

Oh. 

“He’s not doing it to get away from you, Liam,” Calum says, and Liam swallows, finger stilling on the rim of his glass for a split second, and Calum watches a little apprehensively as two conflicting emotions flash across Liam’s face; anger, irritated and embarrassed at the fact that Calum’s just called him out on it, and vulnerability, afraid and wanting Calum’s reassurance. Calum knows Liam better than almost anyone, and even he can’t ever tell which way it’s going to go. Luckily for him, though, Liam seems to struggle with himself for a moment before he exhales heavily, and slumps back in his chair.

“You don’t know that,” he says.

“I do,” Calum says. “He’s your brother, Liam.” Liam looks pained at that. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “But- y’know. After LA.” He doesn’t say anything else - probably doesn’t know how or what to say - but Calum gets it. Everything had changed after Whiskey-a-Go-Go, shifted a few centimetres to the left, and even though everything’s okay again, it’s a different kind of okay to before. 

“That wasn’t your fault,” Calum says, because it wasn’t. 

“Wasn’t it? I was a right cunt.” 

“You’re always a right cunt,” Calum says, but he doesn’t mean it unkindly, or even teasingly. He means that’s just how you are, and we’re all still here, aren’t we? “And anyway, so was Noel.” Liam has to concede there, tilts his head to indicate yeah, I s’pose.  

“I dunno,” he says, still staring steadfastly at his empty glass. “Maybe he just needs a break from me.” 

“He always needs a break from you,” Calum says. “But he never takes one.” 

“Took one in LA.” 

“Yeah, and then he came back,” Calum says. Liam seems to mull the words over, let them roll around in his mind, see how they feel, but Calum can see from the look on his face that they aren’t quite enough. 

“Maybe you should get your own place in London,” Calum suggests. Liam looks up for the first time, brow furrowed. “Then you could be close, but not too close.” Liam’s brow stays furrowed, but he hums thoughtfully. 

“You think?” he says, sounding a little uncertain. Liam moving out of Manchester is quite a big step, the city etched into his veins like none of the rest of them, but it makes sense. And, Calum thinks, they’ll probably all have to move to London, eventually. It might be better to get it done at the same time as Noel, to have someone who knows how to navigate Liam’s inevitable misplaced temper tantrums at the fucking movers or traffic or furniture shops when he’s really just stressed about the change.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “It’d do you good, anyway, being on your own. Probably do you and Noel a world of good too, not living on top of each other all the time.” Liam scrunches his face up, looking ten years younger than he is, like the annoying little kid that Noel must see him as, and then sighs heavily and nods. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you’re right. Yeah. Might have a look myself tomorrow, then.” Calum swallows. Not in Camden, he thinks as loudly as possible, in case Liam’s psychic. 

“Yeah, do that,” he says out loud. Liam nods again, a little more decisively this time, clearly not listening to Calum’s thoughts, and then grins at Calum, bright and easy, like the past five minutes hadn’t happened at all. 

“You’re getting the next round,” he says, and Calum sighs, all long-suffering, but heaves himself out of his seat, forgetting that the table’s sticky and squawking when he puts his hands down on it to support himself. Liam laughs delightedly, like there’s nothing in the fucking world that brings him more joy than Calum’s misfortune, and Calum scowls good-naturedly and flips him off as he heads in the direction of the bar. 

Well, he thinks, as he jogs down the steps leading up to their seating area and weaves through tables of increasingly tipsy old men laughing far too loudly. At least Liam’s sorted. And London really is big, right? Must be twice the size of Manchester, at least. And he’ll be in Michael’s house, anyway, won’t he? There’s no way he’ll see Noel and Liam there. 

Yeah, he thinks, flagging down the bartender. It’ll be fucking fine. 

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chapter six

What We Lost and What We Have

Chapter 9:   Wookies, warnings and homophobic grandpas

In which Jack’s sneak stat is a 2, Sam has a weird story about a wookie encounter, and everybody needs a pep talk.

TW’s for this chapter: Talk about past sibling death (not of a main character)

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

AU somewhat inspired by Episode 2x20 - What Is and What Should Never Be, and the season 14 storyline concerning Jack’s illness.

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AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

Complete Tumblr Chapter List

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Jack spent almost the whole two hours or so Castiel was gone on his phone and part of Sam was elated.

He’d drafted the same email about corporate responsibility (for the proliferation of inaccurate information on rechargeable batteries) six times now. It was incredibly dull technical writing and he hadn’t been able to focus at all.

Every line of legal jargon he managed to type was interspersed with his mind screaming.

“Say something!”

Sam had come back to the hospital with a purpose, to be helpful to hold out the olive branch to Castiel and BE there for Jack.

-

But ‘there’ was all he was…

-

He had no idea what to say to Jack. The day before had been easy enough, everything had been one long train wreck fed by the intrinsic emotions that came with serious illness. But now that things had calmed down and everyone especially Jack was not on the verge of emotional collapse? He had no idea what Jack needed from him.

And outside of what Jack explicitly needed or wanted it wasn’t like Sam had a deep well of topics to draw upon for small talk..

-

‘What the hell did Sam have in common with a kid literally half his age?’

“What do you say to your estranged baby brother when at his age one of your main goals was keeping the hell away from him?”

-

It didn’t help that Jack himself seemed to suddenly become incredibly shy, only occasionally peeking at Sam sheepishly when he thought the man wasn’t looking…

“So you like… Star Wars?” Sam finally blurted after twenty long minutes of silence.

Jack blinked at Sam in confusion at the out of the blue question before glancing at the back of his themed phone case and flushing slightly.

“I… Yes?” Jack looked a little unsure.

Sam grabbed onto the subject, “Who’s your favorite character?”

Jack’s phone buzzed in his hand and the kid glanced between Sam and the screen nervously before setting it gingerly aside.

“I think… I think Finn is pretty cool?”

Sam suddenly realized his mistake, he knew absolutely nothing about the new movies, he’d been too busy to get around to watching any of them

“Oh that’s… cool… I used to have a Chewbacca plush when I was a little kid,” Sam tried instead.

There was a long moment with no noise but the passive whirring of one of the machines and a soft cough from Jack.

“Oh?” the teenager said politely.

“Yeah it was pretty cool, original too, apparently those things are worth a few hundred dollars now…”

-

‘What are you babbling about now Sam?’

-

Jack smiled and that made it seem worth it though.

“So do you collect stuff like that or something?” he asked curiously.

“Well no, it was kind of… destroyed?” Sam huffed a little sheepish.

“Destroyed?”

“Yeah… Like I said, I got it when I was a little kid, I chewed on the fabric weapons belt until it tore off and one day I left it outside and it rained so it got all mildew-y,“ Sam quickly explained fumbling for purchase with the Jack’s interest.

Jack pulled a face, "that’s too bad…”

“The final straw though was when Dean called it a moldy sloth and I hit him with it, he tried to take it away from me and it tore raining the carpet with mildew-y stuffing…” Sam chuckled to himself.

“That’s pretty destroyed,” Jack looked mildly grossed out.

Sam missed his cue to let it go.

“Thing was though even after all that I still didn’t want to throw the thing out, I was too attached, So at six I thought it was a great idea to  put this damp mildewed furry thing in a pillowcase, tie the pillowcase shut and hide it in my bed’s box spring…”

Jack’s only response was to stifle another cough in his elbow.

“We didn’t find it again until my bed started smelling like mildew, somehow it spread into the wood of the box spring and the bottom of my mattress, and the wookie… well it was some other kind of furry when my dad finally pulled it out.”

Things were dead quiet and when Sam glanced back up at Jack, he looked uncomfortable, “O-oh?” Jack said diplomatically.

-

‘You… really overshare Sam, for fu-…’

-

“Yeah… it was… nasty, sorry, that was a long time ago.”

Jack’s eyebrows drew down a little and he looked rejected for a moment. Sam wondered if it was something that he’d said.

There was another few minutes of awkward silence before Jack’s phone buzzed again and he glanced nervously between it and Sam.

“Just… go ahead I’ll… “ Sam awkwardly tapped the side of his laptop and just like that they both went back to their designated devices as if nothing had been said.

Sam didn’t know how to talk to Jack, every happy childhood memory he had was from before Jack was born and didn’t include him, and even outside of that, he didn’t really know Jack’s personality, what made him smile, what bothered him… what he loved.

Jack seemed to be cautiously trying to connect too and somehow that made things worse, like they were both going for a high five and Sam kept awkwardly missing.

-

‘Trying to meet in a middle that might not even exist…’

-

Sam quickly went back to his emails and stayed with his head buried there until Castiel got back a while later.

———————————-

“I’m so, so sorry I fell asleep in the parking lot, Where’s Jack?” Castiel asked anxiously before the door even swung closed behind him..

He looked a lot better, his hair still damp but neatly combed and finally dressed down a little bit in a fresh shirt and no jacket.

“He’s fine,” Sam quickly placated, “the nurse just… took him for an X-ray of his arm. I think they wanted to put on a cast or something.”

The man relaxed a little and sighed going back to his spot beside the bed, “right… yes, they… mentioned they might do that today if the swelling was down… I…” He brushed back his hair wearily, “was everything alright while I was gone?”

Sam shrugged, “it was just like I said, nothing bad happened because you stepped away for a few minutes…”

Castiel shot him a look and for a moment Sam worried if he’d crossed a line but the man quickly relaxed again.

“I know you probably think I’m being… paranoid, and I don’t know, maybe I am, or maybe you just can’t understand this, but Jack…” Castiel’s eyes were far away, “I don’t want to take any chances with him…”

Sam felt the same mild discomfort he had for days now, seeing Castiel vulnerable just… felt wrong. The time away had done him good but for every bit less manic he looked now he looked ten times more exhausted.

“You’re right I really don’t get it…” Sam huffed. “I mean the way I see it he’s already in the safest place he could be.”

Castiel snorted sounding unconvinced.

“I but then again I’ve never been a parent so, guess I wouldn’t…” Sam paused, he was coming off all wrong, “I don’t know… what this is like for you.”

Castiel eyed him a little amused, “I didn’t know you even thought of me that way… I… I don’t want you to think I’m some nut but who doesn’t trust modern medicine…”

“I don’t, I’m sure your not…” Sam said quickly.

“It’s just…” Castiel rubbed at his face. “The doctors were doing the best they could when my sister died, sometimes it feels like “the best” still doesn’t mean much …”

Sam paused trying to figure out whether his next words would be welcome or get him another dirty look.

“I mean, I don’t really think things are that bad…”

-

‘Dirty look, it definitely got him a dirty look.’

-

Sam quickly switched gears, “what I mean is, Jack seems better today so maybe the doctors are on the right track. Or better yet this thing, whatever it is, is just sorting itself out…”

“You didn’t hear what the doctor said last night, you don't…” Castiel sighed and rubbed at his forehead.

“Don’t you have a job to get back to… in California?” Castiel muttered wearily.

For a moment, Sam felt affronted and maybe a little hurt, but there was no real malice in Castiel’s words and the message became clear.

-

'Change the subject…’

-

“I asked for some time off…” Sam shrugged, “most of our case prep work is done over the internet nowadays anyway…”

Some of the senior partners hadn’t been too happy about it if Mr. Roman’s rather passive aggressive “I hope your family matter clears up soon,” was anything to go by.

But none of the other junior partners seemed to mind at all…

-

'Probably glad to have a chance to get ahead and prove themselves…’

'Part of Sam wished he still cared, but lately…’

-

Castiel just nodded noncommittally.

“What about you… the high school?” Sam tried, “you’re a teacher right?, how’s that going without you?”

“There’s a substitute…” Cas said simply.

“Oh…” Sam screamed internally, he thought the man wanted a distraction but now it just felt like trying to keep up a conversation with a brick wall.

“I… already had the last few weeks of lessons planned out and review worksheets written up, so while I can’t be there right now,  my classes should be… prepared.” Castiel muttered suddenly, seeming lost in thought, “That’s… one thing I’ve always prided myself on… being prepared…”

Sam caught the implication but decided not to feed into it.

“it’ll be okay…” Sam said simply.

Castiel blinked at him in confusion, “I know they will, Mr. Wyatt is an excellent substitute teacher.”

-

‘Okay maybe Sam was lost…’

-

He snorted further confusing Castiel.

“What?”

“Nothing…” Sam shook his head, “Jack… he… he told me he misses school.

Castiel blinked in surprise, he opened his mouth to ask something but before he could get the words out there was a knock at the door.

"Delivery,” a voice called.

Jack appeared in the doorway being wheeled in by the nurse Meg with a new violently blue cast on his arm and a sheepish look on his face.

“Jack,” Castiel smiled relieved earning him a nervous smile back from Jack.

He seemed much more stable on his feet than the day before when he climbed gingerly out of the wheelchair as the nurse re-hung the IV bags.

“They’re taking him off the oxygen for now,” the nurse said, her tone seemed considerably nicer now that Jack was awake.

-

'She probably had infinitely more patience for sick kids, than antagonistic asshole family members who just act like children…’

-

“It’s getting easier to breathe now,” Jack said brightly, even though his pronouncement was almost immediately broken up by wheezy coughing.

“That’s um… that’s great Jack,” Castiel said gently eyes still distracted back on the nurse.

'With a pang of amusement, Sam caught Jack carefully peeking at his phone beneath his blanket when he thought his uncle wasn’t watching.’

“So um… was everything alright?” Castiel asked the nurse, trying to keep his voice chipper and upbeat.

She blinked at him sardonically, “Nope, his wrist is definitely fractured.”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed, “That’s not what I…”

She interrupted, “I know, but that’s all I really have to tell you, everything else is above my pay grade, you’ll have to wait on the doctor for any more papa bear.”

Castiel gave a frustrated huff glancing back at Jack who quickly dropped the covers back down over his phone and glanced around sheepishly.

-

'If Castiel noticed he didn’t say anything.’

-

“You wanna know my professional opinion on this?” the nurse quickly re-drew both men’s attention.

“I don’t know but I feel like you’re going to give it to me either way…” Castiel sighed.

“I can’t guess at what’s going on with your kid, or whether he’ll keep getting better or worse, I could get the hospital sued and lose my job and all that,” Meg shrugged, glancing back over at Jack who was sitting up in bed and playing with his phone “sneakily” under the covers again.

“But…” her voice softened, “he seems to be having a good day… so I’d say try to take today for what it is… and enjoy it.”

Sam wished her saying that did anything to calm the ripples of anxiousness in his stomach, a feeling that must be like waves breaking on the beach in Castiel…

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Dean wished he could say he changed his mind as soon as Sam walked out of the shop, but it took another day and a half…

He’d finished rebuilding the Cuevas’s Jeep’s engine block, changed a fuel filter on some Uni Kid’s car and an engine coil on another’s before he even looked back at his phone again.

No missed calls, no texts. Either everything was fine or Sam also didn’t want to talk to him.

-

'What else was new.’

-

Either way Dean refused to be the first one to call back. He’d meant what he said and if Sam wanted to act all pissy about it that was his business.

But by the next morning his familiar routine tasted like a Kahlua hangover in the back of his throat.

He was already in a bad mood at eight am when Jesse came to pick up his Jeep from the shop.

“I thought you were going to pick up this hunk of junk yesterday…” Dean scowled hands tucked in his pockets a little defensively.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed…” Jesse sounded bemused waving briefly over his shoulder at his husband waiting with the truck running.

“It would have been nice not to be in a time crunch, yeah…” Dean snorted, pulling out a beer from the mini fridge in the garage’s work area.

“Sorry man,” Jesse shrugged guiltily, “I got a call I couldn’t miss. I thought you said you weren’t busy anyway. Something come up?”

“Brother’s in town,” Dean could feel the man eyeing him concerned as he sipped his morning beer.

“You want one?” Dean offered half sarcastically.

“It’s eight Winchester,” Jesse said flatly.

Dean shrugged.

Jesse sighed pulling out his wallet and fishing out an envelope of cash to pay for the repair, “seriously man what’s eating you, 'cause I’ve met Sam and he doesn’t normally get under your skin like this.”

Dean said nothing just took the money and headed towards the office..

Jesse shook his head looking half amused half irritated following him, “look, me and Cesar are meeting with a few friends at Gabe’s to celebrate tonight, maybe come by if you’re feeling less pissy past nine…”

Dean snorted handing over the cash to the teenager behind the desk, “what are you a fourteen-year-old girl? I’m not 'pissy’.”

“You’re one of the pissiest person I’ve ever met Dean Winchester,” Jesse said with a good-natured smile.

“He’s right, you’re like, super pissy…” Claire remarked flatly counting the cash out into the drawer and not meeting her boss’s glare.

Dean snorted tossing Jesse the Jeep keys, “just try the damn engine already…”

Jesse laughed and Dean followed him out to the car, wanting to remain annoyed but significantly distracted.

“What are you celebrating anyway?” Dean finally asked unable to suppress his admittedly childish curiosity.

“Retirement,” Jesse said simply.

Dean blinked in mild confusion, “dude you’re like 36…”

Jesse grinned infuriatingly and climbed into the Jeep cab, “I know right?”

He let the curiosity eat away at Dean as he revved the engine.

It purred like it was fresh off the line and Dean couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at the pleased look on the other man’s face.

“Beautiful, man,” Jesse said patting the side of the door.

Before Dean could ask Jesse if he’d won the lottery or something he pointed to Dean and said simply.

“Nine-Thirty, Gabe’s.”

Dean shook his head, “fine, fine.”

The man smiled, gave a brief thumbs up to his husband in the other vehicle and they both drove off leaving Dean to sit with his extremely mild curiosity and confusion.

Dean rolled his eyes and tried to get back to work.

“Pissy my ass…”

He hated feeling like this.

He had his mother who was doing better then she had been in years teaching mythology at the University and his standoffish little brother who came for Christmas. That was his family.

A house that was payed off in full and the shop he inherited from John that he kept running like a well oiled machine. That was his life.

Dean had made mistakes in the past, lost people in the past

-

Who hadn’t?

-

He’d made his peace with that and moved on.

He’d decided long ago that Jack and Castiel had their own sad chapter in the Winchester’s life but it was long over. Their lives were two completely separate stories now…

-

'Dean was sure the kid couldn’t want the fact he was born because some guy made a mistake, got drunk, and cheated on his wife following him around his whole life… Or at least… he’d get that was a bad thing when he was older.’

-

As far as Dean was concerned they were better off forgetting that shitty night ever happened, and he knew forgetting was the right thing to do but people constantly questioning his every decision wasn’t helping.

Sam’s self-righteous huffing and puffing.

Jesse’s… amusement.

Castiel’s confusion over the phone.

-

'Don’t act like you care all of a sudden…’

Things were so much simpler when there was just vague dislike and mistrust between the two of them…

-

Why was he even worried about this? Castiel said the kid was doing better, that should be the end of it.

If Dean saw someone hit by a car he’d try to help, call 911, stay by their side and keep them calm until the ambulance came.

-

'He was a decent man, despite what Sam might think.’

-

What Dean wouldn’t do was follow them around the accident victim for the next six months and bludgeon and prod their family for information and acknowledgment.

-

Jack and Castiel weren’t family.

Not really.

-

Jack was blood sure, but he was blood like a great aunt who lived six states away who nobody talked to for some stupid reason no one remembered, why bring up old shit?

There was too much baggage and bitterness.

Better to leave the great dam of 2000’s infidelity up between Kansas and Indiana as a monument to the shitty past rather than go picking at it and have all the crap pour out.

-

‘Dean felt dangerously close to drowning in that bitterness already.’

-

If Sam wanted to swing an ax at that himself (like the lumberjack in business casual he looked like) Sam could deal with the resulting flood himself.

He repeated the last thought to himself until he finished up for the day, leaving Claire to lock up the building.

He was of half a mind to ignore Jesse’s offer and just head home, but…

-

He didn’t think the empty house would do anything to calm his mind and drinking alone was just sad.

-

“Screw it,” He turned at the first red light and headed towards Gabe’s.

He set his phone to silent and decided to act as if that corner of his life didn’t exist for the evening.

He was spotted as soon as he entered the Gabe’s, Cesar grinning at him and gesturing him over to the little group at the bar.

“Hey Dean, sit, first round’s on us,” Jesse called from around his husband.

It was a little bit to Cheers-y for comfort but Dean didn’t fight it sighing and sidling up to the bar.

“Whiskey, neat…” Dean ordered gruffly.

Gabe poured the whiskey one eyebrow slightly raised, “well you’re awful chipper today Deano.”

“Yeah well I don’t even know what we’re supposed to be celebrating yet so…” Dean toasted in Jesse’s general direction smile not reaching his eyes “What’s the party for?”

“New beginnings,” Jesse smiled lifting up his own glass. “Finally bought the property of our dreams.”

Dean blinked, “yeah? How’d you swing that?”

“Finally sold the old shop…” Cesar said smiling at Jesse proudly.

Dean blinked, feeling a slightly bitter pang of nostalgia. He could remember long summers going out with friends and dates to rent kayaks and buy ice cream from Jesse’s family’s old rental shack by Clinton lake.

“Business finally get that bad?” Dean felt how rude the words were in his mouth and cringed internally, but Jesse just snorted and smiled.

“Just the opposite actually, it’s shaping up to be one of the biggest tourist seasons yet…”

“So… going out on a high then?” Dean took another swig of his whiskey.

“Something like that,” Jesse shrugged.

“The Gallager kid turned 25 and he’s been working there since he was 16, we figured he was probably ready to take over,” Cesar explained.

“Wait time out,“ Gabe cut into the conversation brandishing his bar rag. "Dude hasn’t your family been running that place since most of the people in the old folks home were in diapers the first time?”

“That’s the thing though, it’s always been my family’s thing,” Jesse said diplomatically, “I only actually took over because my brother was gone, my grandpa in fact had some strong opinions on ‘people like me’.” Jesse snorted, “honestly I think I only stayed so long out of spite, that and I promised mom… I always meant to let the place go when I found someone to take care of it. It was never what I dreamed about doing…”

“Sam was the same way, never wanted to work at the shop…" Dean huffed a laugh, “He never could get along with dad… so it would have been fucking weird if he stayed.”

-

John had been angry; not so much at Sam wanting to go his own way but just… how vehemently against staying Sam had been. “You just can’t wait to leave your family behind can you?”

“Don’t you dare, you don’t get to say that to me, not you!” Sam spat back.

-

“Why wallow in the shitty past when you can just move on…” Dean muttered coming back to himself in the bar.

Jesse turned his glass in his hands looking pensive, “Sometimes it felt like that… but no that’s not really it.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose.

Jesse quickly explained, “I mean yeah there was a lot of shit there, but I grew up around that old shack, me and my brother worked there pretty much every summer after we were old enough to see over the counter…”

Dean whiskey tasted ashy in his mouth, he remembered Jesse’s big brother, he’d always been the cool older teen who’d give you an extra half scoop of ice cream when “the boss” wasn’t looking.

-

He’d drowned on a fishing trip with his younger brother when Dean was in junior high…

-

Jesse shrugged continuing where he left off, “why would I let one shithead ruin all of that?”

Dean hummed vaguely still feeling a little lost, “but you’re still giving it up now?”

Jesse nodded glancing toward Cesar, “Don’t get me wrong, if my brother was still alive… if I still had family interested in running the place maybe I wouldn’t've… For a long time I thought that was going to be my whole life.”

Cesar gently squeezed his husband’s hand and Dean felt a pang of emotion he pushed away before he could identify it.

Jesse continued, “But I have a family now and I… I just… can’t live in the past anymore.”

Dean felt more lost than ever, “Makes sense I guess, why literally live in all the painful bullshit when you have something better…”

Cesar blinked at Dean, “seriously dude why so dark?”

Dean bit back the need to find a smarmy way to tell his friends it was none of their damn business, “Just shitty family stuff…”

“Your brother?” Jesse asked.

Dean snorted, “you could say that…” he knocked back the rest of his glass. “I just don’t get that kid anymore…”

“He do something stupid?” Jesse asked.

“He’s an adult, he can do what he wants,” Dean snorted and tried to get Gabe’s attention for a second whiskey, “It’s not like we really even talk much anymore, who am I to keep him from shoving his foot up his own ass…”

“Yeah, that’s real convincing…” Jesse shook his head bemused.

Dean hurumphed and muttered a thanks to Gabe who finally came over.

“Are you two still on the same crap from a few days ago?” Gabe asked pouring the second glass.

Jesse and Cesar’s ears perked up and even Gabe’s weird brother Gadreel was watching him from across the room. Dean wondered darkly if there was any privacy left in this town.

“Yeah my own, personal, crap,” Dean said pointedly.

Gabe held up his hands in mock surrender, “okay, okay, fine, don’t talk about it, it’s just seems like whatever "it” is seems to be eating you an awful lot…"

“Yeah well Sam has that effect, he does dumb shit and you worry about him, over and over until it’s just too much and…” Dean wrapped his knuckles on the table, “maybe you have it right and it’s time to cut him loose, move on…”

Jesse pulled a face, “that’s not what I meant at all…”

“Yeah well then what do you mean, because I’m getting tired of guessing,” Dean barked.

Jesse had the courtesy not to smirk at him.

“My point is… I don’t really know Sammy haven’t seen him since he was sixteen but… make sure shutting him out is what you really want, and not just some petty shit.”

It dug like a knife in Dean’s gut, “You’re right you don’t know shit…” Dean muttered taking a swig from his glass…

Jesse smiled more than a little forlornly, “all I do know is, having lost him, if I had a second chance with my brother…” he trailed off, “Make absolutely sure you’re ready to give up your chances at this future, when you’re planning on leaving behind your past…”

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Oof, sorry it took me so long to get back, it’s been a crazy few months and it’s been a struggle to get back to my usual writing routine with everything going on. Hopefully, things will be better now.

Spn Meant To Be Masterlist - 2016

Here is the roundup from the last spn_meanttobe challenge! The entries were wonderful and stay tuned for details regrading a brand new challenge coming this way soon!

RPS

Title: Butterfly in a Glass case Author: all_the_damned Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 5K+ Warnings: dollification, spanking, rimming, indentured servitude, prostitution, BDSM, dubious consent/non-con, hurt/comfort, mental atrophy, body modification, control collars Prompt: "Captured": Lifelong best friends James Laird and Lola Caraway are reunited when Lola moves to LA after college. Lola is starting her new life, new job, and a new romance with a successful lawyer--a relationship which forces James to question the nature of his feelings for Lola.James has always been a master at pleasuring women, so it was an easy transition to play a Master on-screen in a series of BDSM videos which have brought him fame and the promise of a lucrative career. The films have also brought him the attention of hardcore producer Eva Satana, who wants James to be a ruthless Dominant -for real- in her brutal and extreme BDSM scenes.James soon finds himself caught in a contract he cannot break and compelled by threats to the woman who's stood by him through everything.Summary: When you’re a doll, there’s not much to do other than dream. Jared can barely remember a time when he wasn’t a doll. On the best and worst days, he gets to be with Jensen. Link to fic: Ao3 (Must be logged in to read) Title: Can a Girl Ever Have Too Many Cowboys? Artist: beelikej Pairing: Danneel/Jeff/Jensen/Jared Rating: PG-13 Medium: Photoshop Warnings: Polymory Prompt: 33. The Trouble With Texas CowboysNo sooner does pint-sized spitfire Jill Cleary set foot on Fiddle Creek Ranch than she finds herself in the middle of a hundred-year-old feud. Quaid Brennan and Tyrell Gallagher are both tall, handsome, and rich...and both are courting Jill to within an inch of her life. She's doing her best to give these feuding ranchers equal time-too bad it's dark-eyed Sawyer O'Donnell who makes her blood boil and her hormones hum.Link to art: LiveJournal Title: Home of the present Author: crimsonepitaph Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: R Word Count: 32K Warnings: language, mentions of depression Prompt: A man in need of a comeback…A woman in need of love. Off the court, tennis star Jason Cartwright's playboy image is taking a public beating. On the court, he's down forty-love. A comeback is in order, but the makeover he needs is in the hands of the woman he loved and left fifteen years ago. While single-mom, Izzy Connors, sees people for who they really are through the lens of her camera, even without it, she knows Jason isn't the star he appears to be. All she sees is his wasted talent and playboy lifestyle. Will the click of her camera shatter his world as well as his heart? Summary: Jared Padalecki is a failing tennis legend striving for a comeback. Jensen Ackles is the unwitting photographer co-opted in the makeover project, a biography meant to change the game. Single dad, definitely not a fan of Padalecki's, and a cynical human being in general, Jensen takes the job out of necessity, and gears for a year long charade. But what happens when Jensen discovers more than he signed up for - not just about Padalecki, but about himself?Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: Jensen's Choice Author: zara_zee Artist: amberdreams Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 44K Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, torture, minor character deaths, dubious consent*, rough sex, light kink (bondage, spanking, edging/orgasm delay,cock cage, slight D/s), crime, discussions of child abuse, smoking, drug use, addict in recovery, bad language and homophobic insults.*For the purposes of a dark romance, I’ll say dubious consent, however it should be noted that in the beginning, Jared has all the power and Jensen’s consent is definitely coerced. In the real world, I would classify that as rape. On the whole many unhealthy attitudes to consent are conveyed here.Prompt: An ex-pool hustler must fight her attraction to a sinful, sexy biker when she's kidnapped by the Dragons MC and sold to the club's Vice-President. Summary: Seven years ago talented pool hustler Jensen Ackles fled LA for his home state of Texas—with a price on his head and HellSpawn MC on his tail. Now, Jensen’s past has finally caught up with him. His debt has been bought out by the Vice-President of HellSpawn, Jared Padalecki, who expects Jensen to satisfy his dark sexual appetites. But even worse than life as the VP’s beck-and-call boy is the very real possibility that Jensen just might be falling for the sinfully sexy biker. Link to fic: on LiveJournal Link to art: on LiveJournal Title: Pranking the Padalecki Author: whiskygalore Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 9K Warnings: younger Jensen, older Jared, spanking, bad language, schmoop with a happy ending Prompt: The Brat Next Door Tessa Randall has loved playing practical jokes on her brother's best friend, Trace Samuels, for as long as she can remember. But when she pushes him too far one day, she finds herself getting her long-overdue comeuppance over his lap. When Trace follows this treatment with a kiss, Tessa's confused emotions take an unexpected twist. Has she been menacing the boy next door her whole life, just to get closer to him? Has it been her motive all along to simply get his attention? And if so, where does she go now that she unquestionably has it? Summary: Jensen Ackles has loved pranking his brother’s best friend, Jared Padalecki, for almost as long as he can remember. But when he pushes Jared too far one day and finds himself on the wrong end of a spanking, Jensen lets slip a secret that might change things forever.Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: Up Against Your Will Author: amypond45 Pairing: Jared/Jensen, past Jared/Genevieve, past Jensen/others Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 17K Warnings: reference to past rape/abuse (not graphic or specific) Prompt: Blind Wolf: Julia has never been on a date in her life. She's a curvy girl with no money, no education, and no way out of the town she works in as a library assistant... until Damien shows up. He's just like the prince charming Julia always imagined would sweep her off of her feet. There are just a few things standing in the way of true happiness: he's blind, he's dating someone, and he's WAY out of her league. Oh, and he's a werewolf. Damien lost his eyes two years ago in a wolf battle. Ever since then, the straggler pack of disabled wolves he leads has been searching for a place to call home. One house seems like the perfect choice, but Damien realizes too late that the person who lives there is the girl he met at the library. The human girl. Damien is torn between loyalty to his pack and raw lusting desire for the girl who haunts his dreams day and night. She's a human. How could she be his true mate? Summary: Jensen wasn’t planning to rent out the apartment in his basement. But when a tall, handsome stranger offers him a deal he can’t refuse, Jensen puts aside his natural shyness and lets Jared move into his home. Now Jensen’s having intense dreams, hearing strange sounds in the night, and one day he sees a wolf in his backyard. Can Jensen regain his carefully ordered life (and his sanity) before it completely unravels? Or will he give in to his passion for the beautiful blind man with all the wildness in his heart? Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: Dead men do tell tales Author: siriala Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 18K Warnings: mildly creepy and supernatural stuff surrounding death (which is not made into a major issue in this fic), shady but friendly Chad, voyeurism, judgmental and mean people Prompt: Her Ladyship's CompanionIn the Scottish countryside of Selkirk, Lady Isabella Stirling resides at Bowhill Park, serving penance for a sin that nearly ruined her family. For five years she has been condemned to a loveless marriage and confined to the estate where she does little more than tend her rose garden. With her husband absent for months at a time and few visitors, Bella lives a lonely existence, denying the passions that burn within her very soul.Then her cousin comes for a visit and makes an outrageous suggestion: what Bella needs is a lover. A hired lover. Despite her need, Bella says no. But soon Mr. Gideon Rosedale arrives-and he is at her service for two weeks. Indulging in what she intends to be a harmless flirtation, Bella is overcome by Gideon's intoxicating presence. And when she at last permits him to satisfy her desires, she discovers she's done the unthinkable-she's fallen in love.Summary: Jared has been alone most of his life. Good thing dead people can't be picky when he talks to them. Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: The Roommate Author: ashtraythief Artist: beelikej Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 for fic, PG-13 for art Word Count: 12.6K Warnings: ummm… there’s porn? And description of unhygienic storage of clothes? Unhealthy amounts of cereal consumption? Idk, this is just really schmoopy and floofy. Prompt: One Night With Her RoommateEver since her former roommates deserted her, Meg has had to share an apartment with a lazy, obnoxious ass. He won’t pick up after himself, and he refuses to get a good job. Plus, he doesn’t always wear enough clothes—which is really a problem, because he’s hot. Maybe he’s occasionally funny. And every now and then he can be sweet. But mostly he’s just annoying. It doesn’t matter how much he’s starting to flirt with her—Meg is going to resist. She’s way too smart to fall for a guy who never takes anything seriously. But then everything changes in only one night.Summary: When Jared moves in with Jensen, Jensen’s life is turned upside down. Jared is a terrible roommate; messy, loud and entirely obnoxious. Unfortunately, he’s also pretty hot and even kinda nice when his socks aren’t clogging up the sink. Not that Jensen would ever do anything about that, because Jared is straight and a giant slob. Or so Jensen thinks. Link to fic: on Ao3 Link to art: on LiveJournal Title: My Wicked Pirate Artist: kinkajou Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: G Warnings: none Prompt: Azure-eyed Alanis was by far the most exquisite treasure ever claimed by the black pirate known as the Viper, but his motives went deeper than his silken promise to ravish the feisty Yorkshire heiress. Commanding the waters of the Caribbean was his means to an end: reclaiming his birthright—and his blood debt against those who had betrayed him.Then he gave her nights of wicked pleasure...Comfortably betrothed to a nobleman, Alanis never imagined the heady emotions involved in the true games of seduction—games this blackguard seemed to thoroughly enjoy playing with her. Swept up into an adventure that soon revealed a gentleman and kindred spirit beneath the ruthless veneer of a privateer, Alanis began to soften towards her enigmatic captor, as her pride and her heart fell under his erotic spell.Link to art: on Ao3 Title: After All This Time Author: safiyabat Artist: vilabelle Pairing: Jared/Jensen, Gen/Danneel, Jared/Stephen, J2DG Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 7K Warnings: Internalized homophobia, het sex, Chad Prompt: Kinky Neighbors: The Mitchells and the Harts have been next door neighbors and friends for the past year. They have loads in common; double incomes, professional careers, no kids...and a kinky streak. Now they're about to become very good friends...with kinky benefits. The sex between them all is hot, naughty, and unbearably exciting. It isn't merely swapping partners and moving to another room; it's true foursome sex, same room, same bed, all four involved. For Drew and Cat Mitchell and Logan and Alexis Hart, it's about barreling through boundaries none of them have ever crossed before, doing kinky things they've only fantasized about. But when they begin to exchange not just sex but emotional connection, the problems start; a little jealousy, feeling left out, wanting more from the wrong partner. Can two couples really share everything without losing it all? Summary: Jensen's a pretty happy guy. He's happily married to his hometown sweetheart, Danneel, and he's got a thriving law practice in Austin. He lives next door to his lifelong best friend, Jared, who is married to his and Danneel's girlfriend, Gen. When Danneel and Gen suggest bringing Jared into the bedroom, though, things get weird. Jensen thought Jared had gotten over his schoolboy crush on Jensen, but it turns out that Jared isn't the only one with lingering feelings.Link to fic: on LiveJournal Link to art: on LiveJournal Title: The Lost Author: phoenix1966 Artist: amberdreams Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 93K Warnings: swearing, murder (off-screen), violence, m/m, top!Jensen, bottom!Jared, bottom!Misha (offscreen) Prompt: Al King is a rock singer and selfish stud extraordinaire. His brother and manager, Paul King, gets Al whatever he wants and boy does he want a lot. Dallas is a former hooker gone beauty queen/actress. Everyone wants a piece of her and she plays hardball like the best of them. What happens when the plane they are on crashes in the middle of the Amazon jungle? Summary: Big screen star Jensen Ackles was on his way to Brazil to continue filming his latest project. He was glad to lose himself in the role and bury the pain of his broken heart by slipping on a stranger’s skin. Because of his manager’s twisted attempt to help, he found himself on a private jet with a high-class rent boy. Before he could figure out what to do with that, a bolt of lightning sent them tumbling into the rainforest. Link to fic: on Ao3 Link to art: on LiveJournal Title: The Other Wesson Author: firesign10 Artist: milly_gal Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 8K Warnings: none Prompt: Beth Bradley has a problem. Everyone is expecting her successful music executive boyfriend, Charlie, to be her date for her best friend’s wedding. There’s one hitch: Charlie doesn’t exist. Unless she can think of something fast, she’s headed for the most humiliating weekend of her life. Alex Tanner has a problem. The former Navy SEAL's search for a double agent lands him at the Kensington Hotel, and he needs a cover to finish the job. When the sexy maid of honor blackmails him into pretending to be her lover, he thinks he's been handed the solution. Except Beth has a way of stumbling into trouble, and when the man Alex is hunting starts targeting Beth, Alex has to decide between solving the mystery or protecting the woman who has stolen his heart. Summary: Jensen Ackles has a problem. Everyone is expecting his successful accountant boyfriend, Sam Wesson, to be his date for his best friend’s wedding. And Jensen is the wedding planner! There’s one hitch: Sam doesn’t exist. Unless he can think of something fast, Jensen is headed for the biggest humiliation of his life. Jared Padalecki has a problem. The government agent's search for a possible sex trafficking ring lands him at the Isla Grande Resort on the Gulf of Mexico, and he needs a cover to finish the job. When he meets the sexy wedding planner while planting a bug in his room, Jensen blackmails him into pretending to be his boyfriend. Jared doesn't mind--he thinks he's been handed the ideal cover. Except Jensen stumbles into trouble, and Jared has to decide if this resort romance is just play-acting—or the real thing! Link to fic: on Ao3 (art embedded in fic) Title: These Violent Delights Author: dimpled_sammy Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 82K Warnings: Violence, gangsters, minor character death Prompt: Romancing the Mob Boss. Trina Hathaway is a waitress in a Las Vegas strip joint who spends a romantic evening with a good looking hunk she met at the club. Hoping to see him again, but not disappointed when she doesn’t, she goes on with her life. But a week later, when she interviews for a job at the renowned PaLargio Hotel and Casino on the Vegas Strip, and discovers that the owner of the hotel is the man she had slept with, a man who very much wishes to rekindle what they had captured that passionate night, her entire life spirals into a new and dramatic world where family ties and ever-increasing violence ropes them in. Summary: Jared Padalecki has only ever wanted to get out of Sin City. Trapped by extenuating circumstances, he works as a waiter in a Las Vegas strip joint, doing what he can to get by, including spending a romantic evening with a handsome stranger who wanders into the club one night. Hoping to see the stranger again, but not disappointed when he doesn’t, Jared moves on with his life. A month later, Jared interviews for a job as a financial consultant at one of the largest and newly made over Hotels on the Vegas strip. Jared gets the job, only to discover that his new boss is the same man he slept with: Jensen Ackles, the enigmatic and ice cold business man. Jensen Ackles, the city's biggest mob boss. Torn between his longing to get out of the city and his yearning to be closer to Jensen, Jared finds himself being sucked into a new and dangerous world where loyalty is everything, passion exists on a knife-edge, and the ever-increasing violence makes it impossible to escape. Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: Heartstrings Author: madebyme_x Artist: quickreaver Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 7.5K Warnings: Language and references to drug and alcohol abuse Prompt: Heartstrings. As Julia prepares to settle in for another typical 12-hour shift in the ER, she's ready to handle anything...That's before Slade Hale rolls into her life...on a stretcher surrounded by 15 doctors and nurses. To her he's just another patient, and a cocky asshole Rock Star with an ego. Or at least that's what she thinks. When she's assigned to be his personal nurse, Julia suddenly feels out of her comfort zone. Slade is the most beautiful man she's ever seen in person and even in his vulnerable condition he seethes of raw sex appeal. When he starts to wake up, that's when the real trouble begins...Julia desperately attempts to fight his charm and wit, to stay professional, to keep the upper hand. Summary: Washed-up rock star Jared is rushed to hospital, and it's up to uptight nurse Jensen to fix more than broken bones. But what is it that they say? Opposites attract, or something like that... Link to fic: on LiveJournal Link to art: on LiveJournal

Supernatural

Title: Behind Glass Author: museaway Pairing: Dean/Castiel Rating: Teen Word Count: 21.3K Warnings: Temporary Character Death Prompt: Life as he has known it is over for Adan when his mother tells him she has bought a mansion in an exclusive community high in the redwood mountains. There are no other young people living there except one, a girl named Chrystal who has never been outside the community before or known anyone her own age. But Adan can only admire Chrystal from afar, she is beautiful and he is covered in scars. Summary: Castiel has spent his life secluded in the woods. At his father’s warning, he’s never left the property. He has no memory of his mother, and his father doesn’t come above twice a year with supplies now that Castiel is grown. But when he befriends a boy named Sam who trespasses on his land, and Sam's older brother, whose face and arm were maimed in an accident, he begins to doubt everything his father has told him. Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: The Trouble with Benny Author: angelus2hot Pairing: Dean/Benny Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2K Warnings: none Prompt: Can a girl ever have too many cowboys?No sooner does pint-sized spitfire Jill Cleary set foot on Fiddle Creek Ranch than she finds herself in the middle of a hundred-year-old feud. Quaid Brennan and Tyrell Gallagher are both tall, handsome, and rich...and both are courting Jill to within an inch of her life. She's doing her best to give these feuding ranchers equal time-too bad it's dark-eyed Sawyer O'Donnell who makes her blood boil and her hormones hum.Summary: It took awhile for Sam to realize even though Dean could have almost anyone he wanted, his brother only wanted Benny. But when he did he and Garth devised a plan to get Dean to finally go after what he wanted. Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: Happenstance Author: stonenumberone Pairing: Sam/Dean Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 18K Warnings: Pre-series AU, underage sex, underage drinking, complete lack of listening to the concept of Stranger Danger, swearing and just a little bit of angst and sibling incest. Prompt: Colin Hartman can now add college to his list of failures. On the coast-to-coast trek home from California, Colin stops at a gas station in the Nevada desert, and can’t help noticing the guy in tight jeans looking like he just stepped off a catwalk. When he realizes Catwalk is stranded, Colin offers a ride. Riley only intended to take a short ride in Colin’s Jeep to the Grand Canyon. But one detour leads to another until they finally find themselves tumbling into bed together. However there are shadows in Riley’s eyes that hide a troubled past. And when those shadows threaten to bury the man whom Colin has fallen in love with, he vows to get Riley the help he needs. For once in his life, quitting isn’t an option… Summary: Dean’s never been really good at that whole “accomplishment” thing. Drifting is the one thing he really knows how to do, and a trip after his latest failure—college—with just him, his car, and the wide open road is exactly what he needs. Running into a boy with legs longer than the California coastline was definitely not on the agenda, but hey, it’s not like Dean has anywhere else to be. When the trip becomes more of a series of detours, Dean finds himself more and more drawn to the young Sam, who seems to be carrying more baggage than Dean originally thought. A secret revealed threatens to shatter everything they’ve built together in this short time; will they make it through or crash and burn like every other thing Dean has ever touched? Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: Sunrise Cove Obsession Author: smalltrolven Pairing: Sam/Dean Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 9K Warnings: Beyond Awful!John Winchester Prompt: Naomi Bowes lost her innocence the night she followed her father into the woods. In freeing the girl trapped in the root cellar, Naomi revealed the horrible extent of her father’s crimes and made him infamous. No matter how close she gets to happiness, she can’t outrun the sins of Thomas David Bowes. Now a successful photographer living under the name Naomi Carson, she has found a place that calls to her, a rambling old house in need of repair, thousands of miles away from everything she’s ever known. Naomi wants to embrace the solitude, but the kindly residents of Sunrise Cove keep forcing her to open up—especially the determined Xander Keaton. Naomi can feel her defenses failing, and knows that the connection her new life offers is something she’s always secretly craved. But the sins of her father can become an obsession, and, as she’s learned time and again, her past is never more than a nightmare away. Summary: When the boys are forcibly separated at twelve and eight by a father gone mad their lives take very different turns. When they are then reunited fifteen years later, they don’t recognize each other. Dean’s promise to stay away from Sam even though unwittingly broken brings a danger back that may kill them both. Link to fic: on Ao3 Title: Indelible Author: dare_darcy Pairing: Dean/Sam Rating: M Word Count: 25K Warnings: Light BDSM Prompt: Leni Brewster should have been disappointed when her twin sister had to bail on holding her hand during her first tattoo, but going to her appointment solo means time alone with the sexy-as-hell tattoo artist who falls into the Do Not Touch category. Only Jamie Rodriguez isn't as off-limits as Leni thinks. Privately single for months, Jamie finds himself more than looking forward to having the hot little librarian in his chair. And when she accidentally reveals a naughty secret about herself, he can't get his hands on her fast enough-he has to know what else she's hiding under that buttoned-up exterior. What he discovers sets his blood to boiling, igniting a burning determination to test every single one of the boundaries, both personal and physical, that she's set for herself. Summary: Dean Singer is a tattoo artist, single and unhappily so. Sam Winchester is the sexy librarian who has been feeding his secret book habit. When Sam walks into Dean's shop, will Sam break through Dean's walls and see the man beneath? (Summary to be fixed when I'm not sleep deprived.) Link to fic: on Ao3

Family Dinners

@rvbficwars

This one is for the RVB Fluff Week! This lovely prompt came from @the-original-bad-boy, thank you so much for the Mercs Prompt, you gave me the opportunity to write a story that was referenced in an angst war prompt. :) Prompt:  Mercs for Fluff week!! Siris invites Issac and Sam home to meet his other family! (Extra fluff Mason introduces them as Uncle Sam and Isaac and Megan calls them Mason's Brothers.)

Warnings: None, all fluff again ^.^

Summary: Sam and Isaac are invited to the Wu’s house for dinner, questions are asked, and Sam shows a side he rarely acknowledges.

Word Count: 1,264

Enjoy!

Saudade Masterlist

Part 3

-------------------

"No."

"Sam, come on! It'll be fun!"

"Felix, I said no!"

Isaac glared at Sam as the broad mercenary took a seat on the worm couch, beginning to disassemble his sniper rifle for cleaning.

"Sam. We haven't met Mason's kids yet and we haven't seen Megan in literal years," he stood in front of his partner. "All I'm saying is that it would mean a lot to Wu if we both showed up."

Sam heaved a sigh, the kind that Isaac knew meant he'd given up. "What time?"

"He said some time around six. He also said Megan will be thrilled to see us again." Isaac grinned triumphantly, sagging comfortably into the arm chair across from Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Just don’t embarrass yourself, Felix."

"Me? Never." Isaac drew his knife from his boot, carefully admiring the edges as they began their two hour wait before departure.

----------------------

"Sam! Isaac! I'm so glad you could join us!" Mason's broad smile lit up the moment he opened the door, ushering his partners into the threshold and towards the dining room.

"Megan! Sam and Isaac are here!" He called before turning to face them. "Make yourselves at home, I'll go get the kids."

As Mason scurried off to retrieve his children, an unnatural spring in his step, the duo's attention sass redirected to the doorway where Megan Wu had just appeared.

She smiled warmly, stepping closer to engulf each mercenary in a firm embrace, "Welcome home, boys."

Home. It's such a foreign word, a concept he wasn't sure he'd ever understand. He'd never known anything resembling home in the past--so this is what it feels like.

Megan stepped back, drawing Isaac from his thoughts, smoothing wayward strands of hair back, "Mason's been so excited for you two to visit, it's all he's talked about for the last couple months."

"Well, we're glad we're able to visit." Isaac returned with his usual charismatic grin.

Sam merely nodded, cautious eyes flickering around the room until the thundering footsteps redirected his attention to the approaching children.

Mason's oldest daughter Melody exploded into the dining room, coming to a screeching halt as her emerald eyes fell on the tall, broad mercenary standin awkwardly near the doorway. Her younger sister, Mikayla nearly collided with her sister's back, thoroughly prepared to start yelling until, she too, saw Sam watching them anxiously.

Megan smiled, stepping beside her daughters and kneeling down, "Girls, this is your Uncle Sam and your Uncle Isaac. They're your daddy's brothers."

"B-but they don't look like Daddy." Melody pointed out.

"No, but they're the closest thing I have to brothers." Mason assured them, hoisting the girls up into their seats before tickling their sides with a smile, "they're family too, Mel."

"Can Uncle Sam sit by me?" Melody asked with a shy smile, emerald gaze flickering between her parents and the dumbstruck mercenary.

"If he wants to--" Megan looked to Sam for confirmation.

He merely offered a quiet nod, caution etched into his features.

Melody's questioning stare morphed into a thrilled smile as she climbed out of her chair, her three-year-old fingers wrapping around Sam's large, scarred hand and dragged him over to the seat beside her.

"I-Isaac--" Mikayla cooed, two-year-old hands waving desperately towards Isaac. "I think Miki wants you to sit by her." Megan laughed quietly, watching the slim mercenary stare blankly at the child for a moment.

"Guess so," Isaac took his seat, the little girl's fingers already pulling at his arm to play with his hand. He hesitated, but reluctantly surrendered his hand to the child while Megan retrieved the food from the kitchen. ---------------------- The group made it most of the way through the meal, Mikayla having relinquished her grip on Isaac's hand twenty minutes ago in favor of consuming as much food as she could. For the duration of the meal, Sam had remained silent, gaze drifting from Mason, back to his food and, on a rare occasion, to the wide eyes sitting beside him, staring at him in wonder.

Isaac smirked to himself, thoroughly amused by the little girl's newfound obsession with Sam, an obsession that only made the guarded mercenary nervous and uncomfortable. As for Isaac, his gaze mostly switched between Mason and his wife, as the two exchanged comments, most of which were directed at either mercenary.

This carried on until Melody interrupted the adult's conversation with a bold question directed at a very stoic Sam, "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Melody!" Megan chided, disapproval etched into her features as she scolded the girl, "we don't ask guests--"

"It's all right." Sam lifted his hand slowly, gathering his wits before he glanced to Mason for his approval.

Mason merely nodded, mildly displeased that his oldest would bring such a topic up at dinner, but, as a mercenary himself, he couldn't help but be anything but surprised.

Sam met the girl's curious gaze, offering a single word of confirmation, "Yes." Her eyes widened, a broad grin spreading across her face as all attention to food was abandoned in favor of drilling the war-torn soldier beside her. She shifted in her chair, fully facing Sam, "How many?"

"A lot." Sam looked back at his food, slowly continuing to eat.

"Do you have a family?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because of the War." Sam kept a stoic expression, but Isaac could see the agony bleeding from his eyes as he kept them trained on the plate before him.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any friends?"

Mason jumped in, "Melody, sweetheart, that's why he and Isaac are here. They're close friends of mine. They're family."

"But--”

"Family doesn't end with blood." Sam supplied, glancing at the girl, "your father and Isaac are the brothers I never truly had. They're family now."

Melody seemed to mull this over for a moment before opening her mouth to speak, only for her mother to jump in, "That's enough, Mel. Let the man eat."

Melody nodded, turning back to her plate, "Yes, ma'am."

------------------ Dinner had come to an uneventful close, allowing the group to relocate to the family room. Mason had taken up a spot on the couch with Megan sitting close by, the girls playing with toys on the floor in the middle of the room. Isaac and Sam had chosen individual arm chairs across from the Wu's, Isaac chattering endlessly with the couple while Sam silently watched the children.

"So, Mace mentioned that you're pregnant again, huh?" Isaac asked, swirling the beer bottle's contents with a smile.

"Yep, kid number three is on the way...soon we'll be outnumbered." Melody laid a hand on Mason's forearm.

Mason smirked, "Don't worry, we'll manage, Meg."

Isaac chuckled, "Pretty soon you'll need a babysitter with how many kids'll be running around this place."

"We'll probably need to find a bigger place for that very reason." Megan smiled warmly, hand drifting to rest on her stomach.

The adults' attention was drawn to Sam as Melody scampered across the floor, climbing into the mercenary's lap. He looked at her questioningly, only to have her point to his hair, silently asking permission to play with it.

He picked her up, standing and setting the girl on the seat behind him before taking a seat on the floor, pulling the ponytail out. Melody giggled, fingers already tangling in his long hair, separating it for the braid.

Sam shot a pointed glare at Isaac, "If you ever mention this to anyone--" Isaac laughed, "Not to worry, Sam, this one will be our family secret."

----------------------------

Part 3

A Five Letter Problem- Prologue (part 2)

Summary: One week ago you found out the possible identity of your father. Now you’ve had one of the most stressful weeks of your life, and you’re having trouble coming to terms with the fact that you might need to leave home.

A/N: Alright, part two! I rlly don’t have anything else to say lol...

Warnings: None in particular

Words: 2.9k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

You flop down face first on your best friend’s soft bed, letting out a loud groan of contempt. You had had a long week. One of the longest of your life. “So, what’s the latest and greatest in Y/N’s messed up family chronicles?” Alice asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice, picture it on her face. “How’d you know?” Alice had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. Alice had been your family for as long as you could remember. And her family had been just as much yours as it was hers. “Bed flop, frustrated groan, and you just got pulled out of class today to talk with guidance and that guy from CPS, what's his name? Jonah? Jonathan?” Alice guesses a few more names before you cut her off. “Joshua,” you correct her, “you ready?” “I don’t know, am I?” “So, they’ve been in touch with Stark-” “Your possible father.” “Yes, my possible father, thank you. Anyways, they said he's coming to meet me and take a paternal DNA test, which I’m sure will come back negative-” “I don’t know, I can… Vaguely… see the resemblance.” “Yeah, well, I can’t. As I was saying,” you shove as much indignation as you can into your words, “In three days he's coming to visit, and in the unlikely case that it does come back positive, I will be moving back to New York with him. CPS has already taken a look around his house- or, well, tower- and confirmed that it’s a fit place to raise a child.” “Wow, New York City, huh.” “Yeah… It’s a long way from Boston.” “It is…” “God, I wish none of this had happened. Sure, maybe my life with my mom and her, uh, situation wasn’t exactly ideal, but we had it worked out, you know. Alimony checks paid the rent and sure that only would have lasted another year, but we’d figure something out. We had a system, I took care of her, she got up and went to work every day, and I would sell psychic readings online to help make up for the money she would blow. It was okay, but now, I might be forced to leave my home, and you guys and go to New York City to live with a bunch of strangers.” “Y/N, I’m sorry.” The conversation lulled, leaving you and Alice to sit in sullen silence, and with silence came contemplation. Your life was changing, rapidly and you couldn’t stop it. Could you? No, you couldn’t. Not this. You couldn’t give up, had to do something, anything, you needed to be in control of one aspect of your life right now. And it clicks. “Alice, I have an idea.” ----- Tony’s POV: “And that’s where we are right now. Questions?” Tony finished catching up the rest of the Avengers. “Hang on,” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose before moving his hand to rub his forehead and finishing his question, “You have a daughter?” “Banner, buddy, did you hear anything I just said?” “Oh no I did, I just think that for a genius you must be pretty damn dumb to have not used protection.” “Thank you, for your astute observation, Banner. Anyone else?” “Yeah, when did you find out about this, and why are you only telling us now?” Steve chimed in. “I only found out about her when Child Services called me a week ago, and I’m telling you now because I need your help.” “With what?” asked Nat. “I want to know what to expect when I head up there to meet her, I want one of you to go into her school posing as a student teacher, or state inspector, or something, and take a look around.” Nat coughs, “You want us to spy on your daughter?” “Well, on the school in general, just to get a feel about what her education may have been like, how kids treat each other, that kind of thing, but yes, I do, a little bit.” “Tony, this is crazy” Banner said, looking confused and mildly horrified. “And?” A long sigh issued from Natasha, “I’ll do it. I could use a little light espionage work to stretch my muscles. Besides, I’d like to get a look at the Starkling myself.” “You have got to be kidding me, this is a horrible idea,” Banner argues, desperately trying to keep his colleagues from going through with this, “Steve, come on, help me out here.” “I would, but Stark’s a lost cause,” the man responds, causing Bruce to grumble in frustration. “I’ll call Happy to get the plane ready, meet me back here in an hour, alright, Romanov? We’re going to Boston.” ----- Your POV: You rinse your hair out one last time before turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. Grabbing the towel off the rack next to you, you pat your hair down, so it’s somewhat dry before letting it fall from your head and taking in your appearance in the mirror. Alice’s mom had helped you cut your hair into a short bob, leaving the curtain of hair sitting about an inch above your shoulders, and thanks to a quick trip down the street to CVS, as well as a small loan from Alice, your formerly Y/H/C hair was now a shining shade of Y/F/C. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you just couldn’t help, but giggle. It was so perfect, you couldn’t change anything significant in your life at the moment, but you could damn well change how you presented yourself. You could look how you wanted, and you loved it. Goddamnit, you loved it, you were you, and the rest of the world could judge you from afar because you felt new, excited. You were ready for whatever the world threw at you because you had people that would stand with you no matter what. So you looked at your face and your hair in the mirror, and you smiled. You were ready. ----- Tony’s POV: The sun was just setting over the Boston skyline as the wheels of the plane finally touched down, and Tony couldn’t tell if the lurch in his stomach was from the plane or nerves. No. That was a lie. He knew it was nerves. He was going to meet his daughter. He and Nat sit in silence until the plane stops and the pilot announces they can collect their stuff and get off. Tony sits for a second more, preparing himself, Nat sees this and promptly puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be alright, Tony. Trust me, this is going to be really good for you, ok?” “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.” So he stands up. He gets his stuff. He walks off the plane, right behind his friend. And he faces the day with a brave face. ----- Your POV: Bring bring bring. You stir at the sound of Alice’s alarm. Bring bring bring. It takes a moment for you to compose yourself, staying at Alice’s is so new, it’s actually pleasant. Bring bring bring. Alice turns the alarm off and the light on. Time to get up. “Morning,” you mutter. “Morning.” “Tuesday, right?” “Tuesday.” You sit up and feel the cold air of Alice’s room wash over you. You feel rested, more rested than you have in a long, long, time. Usually, you end up going to sleep until 10 or 11, depending on how many people ordered card readings that day, and how much homework you were assigned. Then anywhere from 4 AM-6 AM you’d hear your mother walk, or rather crash, through the door and then you’d spend half an hour helping your mother before you would try to get an hour more sleep. At Alice’s, though… At Alice’s, you could sleep all night and wake up in the morning without having to worry about anything. You hated to admit it, but it felt good. “Well, are you going to get up or sit there and stare into space for the rest of the day?” Alice prompts you. “Shut up, you haven’t moved either.” “Go away.” “No.” “Ok, up, both of us.” “Deal.” An hour later you two are dressed, groomed, packed, fed, and walking to school. You look around at the familiar streets of your city and think about how you might have to leave soon. It’s sad, the city had been there, whenever you were in need of a pick me up you could take a train to the aquarium, sit on the roof and listen to the city, or head over to the park nearby. Boston was your home, you didn’t think you could actually leave it behind, you didn’t want to. You and Alice take the familiar route into the back door of the school and through the halls until you make it to the cafeteria, where the rest of your friends sit around- and on- your usual table. You hug each of them quickly before sitting down. Alice, Caitlin, Meg, Ari, and Taylor, your family. The six of you had been through hell and back together, when rumors that Alice and Ari were dating (stories that were true, but could not get out for numerous reasons), you stuck together, when they found out about your mother, you stuck together, and when Caitlin’s mental health took a turn for the worse, you stuck together. Everyone knows the saying “blood is thicker than water,” but no one knows the full version: “blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” You share everything, tangible and intangible. If one of you was sick, all of you are sick, because you share food, you share drinks, you share clothes, and you cuddle all the time. If one of you hated someone, you all did because you tell each other everything. Living life without them… God, the thought is hard for you to bear. “I love you guys,” you say, your voice cracking in between the words. “I know,” Taylor says, shuffling closer to you and pulling you into a hug, she whispers, “we love you too, so much. It’ll be ok.” ----- Natasha’s POV: Nat walks into the office at Oak Ridge Middle School, five minutes before she was due. She had done espionage gigs before, including ones that involved going undercover, but never in a situation that was particularly safe, so this should be a walk in the park in her mind. Her phone starts ringing, and she sighs, knowing Tony’s name would be on the screen. “Tony, I told you not to worry about it.” “I know you did, but I’m worried.” “Good for you, now go take a nap or something.” “Rude-” She hangs up, cutting him off mid-word. “Excuse me, Marybeth Stuart?” the office secretary says from behind her desk. “Mary will do just fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” “Oh, I’m Lisa Hess. Principal Cooke is ready to see you.” “Thank you, Lisa, or would you prefer Ms. Hess?” “Lisa is perfect, thank you. Mrs. Cooke is just down that hall, first door on the left.” “Thank you.” Nat makes her way towards the office, taking note of the newspaper clippings about the staff, students, and the school as a whole, hanging proudly on the wall. She, of course, had done her own recon, and already knew most of the information, but the fact that they were hanging up in the school was telling. It meant that they were proud, and took notice when people did well. As she walked in the door she was greeted by a warm, yet professional office. The principal had pictures of her family on the walls, a soft couch with throw pillows on it in the corner, and one wall completely covered in a bookshelf that was overflowing with books. “Hello, you must be the new substitute teacher,” Mrs. Cooke said kindly. “Yes, that’s me, my name is Marybeth Stuart, but I prefer to go by Mary.” “Excellent, please sit, Mary.” “That’s a nice picture there, is that your daughter?” she asks, referring to a framed photograph of Mrs. Cooke with a woman and a little girl, all smiling happily. “Yes, that’s my wife and me with our adopted daughter.” “How sweet!” Natasha cooed, and there was an unusual sweetness creeping into her voice. “Thank you. Now, most schools don’t do this, but we always have substitute teachers go through a day like a student before they start, just to give you a feel for things.” “That’s what the email I got said,” Nat began, “I think it’s an excellent idea, us subs need to know what classrooms around here look like when the teachers are present, so students don’t mess with us.” “Thank you, I agree,” said the woman, “anyways, here’s a schedule for you today. First, you’re going to Gym, then English, Math, lunch, History, Science, and finally Spanish.” Natasha knew this already, she had hacked into the school’s database the day before and made her schedule an exact copy of Y/N’s. “Sounds good, thank you. Is there anything else I need to know?” “No, I think that’s all. You can head to your first class if you’d like, or the teacher's lounge is up the hall to the right.” “Perfect,” Nat stood up, and walked to the door, but paused halfway there, “Actually, an old friend of mine who I haven’t spoken with in a while has a daughter that I think goes here. Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N.” “Oh, yes, Ms. Y/L/N,” Mrs. Cooke paused, thinking about how to say her next words “Y/N is a highly intelligent, outspoken, and distinguished student. Unfortunately, her home life has been a little rough. Her mother got divorced when she was nine and then started to, well, abuse a few substances to try and cope. She was taken away by Child Services the other day.” “Oh dear, that’s horrible.” “Yes, well the guidance department is working with Child Services to try and reconnect with her father. I just ask that if you see her around today, don’t bring it up, the poor girl has been through enough.” “Of course. Thank you, Principal Cooke.” “Not a problem, I’ll see you this afternoon to sign off on your paperwork.” “See you then.” And with that, Nat slipped out of the office and down the hall to the teacher’s lounge, to do some more digging. ---- Your POV: When the first bell rang, you said quick goodbyes with your friends before you and Ari slipped off to your first-period gym class. “How you feeling?” Ari questioned softly. “Like shit.” “I can only imagine.” The two of you sat on the bleachers, shoulder to shoulder. Ari pulled out her phone and started scrolling. You sighed and pulled out your earbuds, handing one to Ari and putting one in your own ear before shuffling your playlist. You sit like that for a while, waiting for the gym teachers to start class. “Hey, who’s that woman?” Ari says to you, snapping you out of a quite pleasant daydream. You look where she’s looking and see a redhead shaking hands with the teacher- Mr. Cochran. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen her around.” “It can’t be his wife, can it?” “No. There’s a picture in his office, and that is most certainly not her.” “Huh.” Just then Mr. Cochran steps forward and begins taking attendance, bringing your conversation to a pause. ----- Natasha’s POV: Nat’s eyes scan the gym, looking for Stark’s mini-me. She’s just thinking that no one there looks like a potential candidate when the gym teacher approaches her and introduces himself. He explains briefly how he runs the class and says he’s going to start attendance before stepping away. This is her chance. She waits, listening intently until Mr. Cochran calls the name she’s been waiting to hear. “Y/N Y/L/N.” Her eyes scan the room, but she isn’t fast enough to spot the girl. Mr. Cochran finishes and tells the kids they can either play dodgeball or walk around the track. Once he’s sure the kids are all set, he heads back in her direction, and they make idle small talk for a few minutes. During a small rest in the conversation, she scans the room and notices two girls walking around the track and sharing earbuds. She mostly passes over the first girl but the second girl catches her attention, and as the teen walks Nat knows. The second girl is Y/N, and she is most certainly Stark’s daughter. Sure, Y/N may have Y/F/C hair, and her face may not resemble her friend’s, but Nat can see it in the way the girl carries herself. In her confident strides, in the tilt of her head, and in the way she interacts with her friend. She is Tony’s, and they’re going to be damn lucky to have each other. ----- Tony’s POV: “So, Nat, how’d it go.” “It was good, she’s a good kid. Has an affinity for the arts and English, pretty good in Spanish and History, decent in Math and Science. She has a really tight-knit group of friends, and all the teachers gush over how outspoken and accomplished she is.” “Do you think shes… You know?” “Yeah Tony, she’s yours.”

LTA Prompt: I think it'd be really cute if Megs paints Roxanne's nails! Can it be a blue color, like her dress at the end of the movie?

Loving The Alien: Part 18: “Nails”

(Ao3 Link)

She giggles when his pinkie finger brushes against the underside of her foot.

Megamind’s hands are truly lovely. Long and skilled elegant fingers. He holds her heel with all the gentleness in the world, a severe contrast to this morning. With her, he’s tender. With others, he’s awkward and troublesome and rough. She knew he was clueless when it came to most social interactions; while she didn’t know if it was because of humans in general, or the socializing part, Roxanne did know it was an educational experience to go shopping with him.

He tolerated the girls who wanted to take their picture with her; but when it came to the checkout she couldn’t quite keep him in check. He was overly blunt in his open observations, and could not carry on a conversation without terrifying, or being terrified of, the poor clerk who was simply trying to do his job. He seemed to use fear as a weapon when it effected him, too. She’s certain that in his early battles with Wayne, his goal was primarily on beating his nemesis. As for owning Metro City, it was the title and the place, not the people. He could barely stand the company of strangers.

…But back to his hands. Ahh, are they exquisite! How did she get so lucky to have him all to herself?

“You are very ticklish,” he notes aloud, jamming the brush back into the little glass bottle. He pulls it back out and gently lifts her foot again. She sighs as he paints on another coat of deep navy. “If I had known that years ago, I would have drawn out plenty more reactions from you!”

“That would be cheating,” she says coyly, flexing her toes.

He’s sitting in front her on the floor, as she sits back against one of the pillows they’ve taken from her bed, leaning against the foot of the couch. The television plays behind him, on some documentary about turtles, but she could care less about it right now. Her feet at in his lap, and he’s bent over her toes as he pretties her up. Beside her is a bowl of half melted watermelon sorbet, and another bowl of triple chocolate made from cashew milk. It’s dark out, and the only light besides her TV is the kitchen light, casting shadows on his sharp face, pinched in focus over her feet. She smiles, ridiculously happy in the moment.

“Precisely,” he purrs. “Cheating is in my veins. I’m a supervillain, Miss Ritchi! I don’t play nice!”

“Oh, stop it you,” Roxanne snipes playfully, nudging his face with her other foot, all dark navy toes against his clear blue skin. He smirks, turning his head to press a kiss against the side of her foot. She pulls back, gasping, because she doesn’t want to give him more reason to poke fun at her ticklishness. But of course he catches it, and smirks at her again.

As the last coat of polish is applied to her left pinkie toe, Megamind straightens his back and looks down at her feet, his canvas. “Voila!”

She carefully flexes her toes and wiggles them, admiring his handiwork. “You could make a living as a pedicurist,” she teases.

“Petty-cure,” he echos, tilting his head as his expression twists up. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

“What you just did,” she says, and carefully stands up off the floor. She huffs as she drops onto the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “A manicurist does hands,” she wiggles her painted fingers, “but plenty of people do both.” Megamind chirps in response as he screws the brush top back onto the bottle, placing it carefully on the table before dropping down beside her.

They returned home a little after lunch time; she managed to rope him into helping her cook a quick meal, but he was more helpful than she imagined. She’d almost forgotten he said he liked to bake and cook, when the desire arose. But cooking with Megamind was fun; a little silliness in the kitchen that resulted in a smudge of mayonnaise on her cheek and on his nose and peas all over the floor, but together they put together a tuna casserole—her grandmother’s star recipe. While that was in the oven, she turned around to find him hovering by her shoulder, his eyes smoldering with want.

Roxanne found herself being pressed against the counter, gently, with his hands on her waist. His lips chased hers, whispering pleas and inaudible desires. Her tongue sought his, making the alien gasp in mild shock, but doubling his efforts to mirror her.

He was a quick learner.

Their first kiss was unlike this one; while this one left her shaking and drooling with a desire for him to take her then and there on the kitchen floor, it did not make the first kiss pale in comparison. She still remembers as if it was just moments ago the way he froze up in alarm at her placing her lips over his. Like he could not believe what was happening. Yet, slowly, as she pressed her body against his ever so slightly, her hands cupping his face, he steadily began to reciprocate. He pressed his own mouth to hers, unsure and stiff and awkward—all elbows and fluttering hands, until he slowly placed them on her waist.

Now, he pressed against her with a new sense of urgency. A lustful urgency that burned in his eyes, demanding and needy. His mouth, hot and panting, at her neck and clavicle, made her moan aloud and crash into the stove, the knobs digging into her lower back. She hardly noticed until Megamind pulled away sheepishly. As far as mood swings go, he was the king of it. Perhaps it was simply because of his inexperience.

To her mild disappointment, they calmed themselves down and made their way to the couch. They turned the TV on but neither was particularly interested. Instead, he rummaged around their bought goods until he came upon the nail polish. Of all the things he could ask of her, his request to paint her nails was the last thing she could possibly imagine.

And so, having dug into the ice cream before they had their late lunch/early dinner, Roxanne found themselves sitting close together on the couch, with her admiring his handiwork.

“Megamind, did you ever paint your nails before?” She asks, tilting her head to lean against his. He grunted in response, gingerly taking ahold of her left hand, spreading her fingers out.

“I painted them what you call black as an adolescent. I painted them a second time with—well, I call it star dust. But Warden said it was a shade of violet. I didn’t really bother with my nails afterwords,” he explained, looking at his own fingers once he set her hand down. “Painting them is not really all that fun, at least for me, now that I’m an adult. Besides, I wear gloves most of the time.” Megamind glance at said gloves, which were limply hung over her television stand. She’s so used to seeing them on him that it was almost bizarre to see them without hands inside! A sillier part of her wanted to try them on for size. She didn’t because firstly, his hands were a bit larger, and secondly, he had two whole extra fingers.

“But painting yours was quite enjoyable,” he admits sheepishly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “…I’d like to do it again, if you’ll let me?”

She smiled softly, taking pity on his hesitance. “Of course. It’s more of a luxury for me, I’d imagine.”

He tutted, but didn’t respond.

At that moment, the timer to the oven went off, alerting them that the casserole was done. Megamind hummed happily, standing up with her as she went to get it. He liked her cooking, which she was pleased by. Of course, feeding people her own cooking was gratifying, but for him, it gave her a new sense of satisfaction that was alien to her, though not unwelcome.

She watched him leap ahead of her, reaching for the oven with a cocksure smile as if he’d won a race. Shaking her head, Roxanne let him do it, still shaken to see him able to pull out a hot, glass pan out of the oven with ease using his bare hands.

As she watched him meddle in her kitchen, placing the pan on the counter and making a mild fuss about needing things not being in his immediate reach, she thought over the things that had transpired in the past weeks.

Three weeks… had it really been that long?

This connection between them, if it was forced to be pinpointed on a specific date, was set off the day of his contact fell out during the failed kidnapping. The day after, Megamind showed up here, shaking in his boots, and practically begged on his knees to never tell what she saw. Which was confusing then, but understandable now. He saw himself ugly. Roxanne frowned, disagreeing with all of her heart. Megamind, so alien and strange, could not fathom being accepted by the human population on the principle that because was so different, he would be ridiculed more than he already was. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons he became a villain. To be hated, feared, so that people had a lawful reason to.

Roxanne could not, much to her anger, make people accept the unusual. The strange. The unique. Megamind knew that, and shut himself away so far he could barely socialize with others now. Would that ever change?

When she blatantly told him she did not mind his alienness, his bright green reptilian eyes or the long blue tail, the extra fingers or the sharp, shark like teeth, Megamind took a leap of faith. He began to… trust her. And so, he started coming over early in the morning or late at night, simply to talk with her. He always had an excuse—he never showed up without reason, but Roxanne knew he was there to see her. For whatever reason, she’s mildly certain it wasn’t because he was in love with her yet. He was there to test a theory. To see if she truly didn’t mind the non-humanness of him.

One thing led to another, and he suddenly decided it was too obvious he was getting close to her. Which led him to say he wanted to change their relationship.

The rest was history, like any other couple just starting out; the kisses, the long talks, the gentle touches, the shared dinner, the moment his tail dropped itself and he was forced to stay with her as it grew back.

He was fine now. But it was clear he wan’t exactly going anywhere any time soon.

Roxanne couldn’t help but think: how long would this thing between them last? She’d been head over heels before, but never like this. She’d had boyfriends, a few girlfriends, and was content to live out in a mutually beneficial relationship that would wind down someday. Typically that happened when they got sick of each other, or things just didn’t work out. Other factors got in the way, her heart was mended, tears dried up, life went on.

But she’s known Megamind for nearly seven years. It feels like she’s known him all of her life, yet this thing is so new. So… strong. Her heart leaped into her throat and her chest tightened at the thought of him approaching her one day and simply saying, I think we should see other people.

She doesn’t think she could ever get over that heartbreak. Yet, one day, he would have to go. This blissful domestic-ness between them would find an end. They had two very different visions in life, two very different paths to lead, and…

“I can hear you thinking, treasure,” Megamind says, startling her out of her sudden moroseness. He moved so quietly, and she so deep in though, that Roxanne didn’t hear him abandon his kitchen work to come up to her. He tilts his head, almost touching hers, eyes bright and cautious, searching. “Tick tick tick.” He waggles his fingers. “What’s gotten you so mel-on-cholly?”

“What?”

“Sad.”

“Oh. Nothing.” He frowns, and opens his mouth to insist, but she shakes her head. “Really, it’s nothing. Let’s eat?”

Megamind won’t let it go, she knows. He looks too determined now, but he’s still so tender with her he won’t press her for the truth. Upset that she’s ruined the mood, she tries to soothe it by a kiss to his cheek. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s been a long day.”

The blue alien eyes her warily, tail curling a bit to brush against her ankle, but he complies and follows her into the kitchen.

~.~.~.~

Supper was relatively quiet, and with her sudden terrifying thoughts of him leaving, she tells him she’s turning in early. Megamind, not having exactly done anything alone in her apartment before (besides when he left for a bit yesterday morning), declines her offer of having full rein of the television. Instead, he follows her upstairs and turns the covers down with her, sliding beneath the bedclothes before she could ask if he was even tired.

Wordlessly, she gets in beside him. As she turns the bedside lamp off, and they’re bathed in darkness, he asks, in the protection of the night, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Megamind.”

“… B—”

“I’m fine. Really.” Roxanne then turns over and pretends to go to sleep. It’s weird though, knowing her bedfellow was aware of her alertness, and feeling his buzzing, half-manic energy. He’s watching her, she thinks, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. How good was his night vision? Could he see her in this pitch black? Could he see the way she wanted to turn in on herself?

They stay in that state until she falls asleep, restlessly.

~.~.~.~

Roxanne wakes up to the sound of beeping. Instinctually, after a seven year routine, she reaches out to put the alarm clock on snooze. However, her alarm was never set, and as she slaps the clock the sound doesn’t turn off. Her eyes open, alert, to see the sun barely peaking over the city’s horizon through her window.

She feels Megamind shift and sit up in the bed, and the beeping stops. She turns over to face him, askance. He’s holding his wrist up, watch up in the air. “What, Minion?” He asks with a huff. There are dark marks under his eyes. Did he sleep?

“Sir,” comes the static shrill voice of his fishy companion through the watch’s speakers.

“What?” Snaps the alien.

“There’s—been an incident.”

“Elaborate.”

“Um. Is Miss Ritchi there?” Minion seems to say her name like it’s a curse. God. Did he really dislike her that much, or was he just jealous for ‘stealing’ his boss/friend?

“Yes.”

“You may want to bring her to the Lair, too, Sir.”

Megamind looks to her in surprise, as if she has any idea why Minion was asking for both of them. She shrugs, as clueless as he. The alien squirms around until he can slide off his side of the bed. She props herself up on her elbow, throat still parched from her sleep. “What happened?”

“I—um, there’s—“

“Speak!”

“Someone took a picture.”

“What?”

“A picture of you and Miss Ritchi. Together. It’s all over the Internet.“