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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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daddy issues - chapter xv

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N for this chapter: this is 3.2k of unedited drama and I am so fucking proud of it. I wrote this entire thing today, and it’s easily one of the pieces I’m most proud of. So I haven’t been able to fit a proper conversation between the reader and Harlan - I couldn’t make the scene justified if his presence was there, since he does seem to be the one thing that keeps the family on the line - but that means I had some ideas of how I can make up for it in the future! Extra chapter? Perhaps. We are approaching the end though. I only have two more chapter planned for this fic and an epilogue. We’ll see how that goes!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Hey!” I got into the car excited to see him again, but I tried to reason with myself that it was all because of his visit to his grandfather’s publishing company, of course. I wanted to know how that went and I was curious as to what Harlan’s plans were, that was mostly it.

The fact that I had genuinely missed the man by my side after spending just four hours away from him had very little to do with it, or so I tried to tell myself. I didn’t know how to deal with depending so much on someone yet.

But I was trying to.

Ransom’s silence alerted me that something was different. I stopped trying to fix myself to look to the side and find him staring out the window, face expressionless and eyes void of any sentiment.

“Ransom, what’s wrong?” Reaching over, I squeezed his thigh to get his attention, and he jerked as if he was genuinely surprise by my presence in the small vehicle. “You look stressed,” I clarified, eyebrows furrowed in worry as I reached over to push away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place.

He just stared at me for a while and still I couldn’t read what he was thinking. Was he mad at me? Had I done something wrong? After what felt like eternity, he sighed, gripping the steering wheel as he looked on his lap and admitted, “I’m gonna have to go to this family dinner on Friday.”

Immediately, I breathed deeply in relief, suddenly realizing just how worried I actually was that his mood had something to do with me. But then I was reminded of the little that Ransom had told me about this family - even that little felt like too much.

I could only imagine the anxiety he was feeling, and my heart ached to soothe him as best as I could. “Do you want me to go with you?” I asked, running my digits over his nape calmly, keeping my voice as soft as possible to help him relax.

Still, his head snapped up so he could meet my eyes, his wide as two saucers as he struggled to process what I’d said. “… You’d do that?” He sounded so surprised, so genuinely shocked by my offer, that I couldn’t stop myself from giggling, taking both of his hands on mine and squeezing them gently.

“Of course I would, honey.” Ransom’s eyes were so soft as they stared into mine, even as my heart doubled its size in its effort to reach out for his, I found myself justifying, “You went with me to see my parents!”

The way his smile dropped at my explanation had me feeling cold and empty, desperate to see him look at me the same way he was doing only seconds ago.

“Besides,” I forced myself to admit it, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt while I opened my heart to him. “I-I don’t want you to go through that alone. I wanna be there for you, like you were for me.”

Immediately, I felt rewarded on my effort to open up by the smile he gave me. “Thank you, baby.” He squeezed my hand this time, and when he leaned over and connected our lips on a quick peck, my heart skipped a beat.

I was in love with this man.

Ransom��s P.O.V.

I sighed as we stood in front of my grandfather’s front door, trying to adjust my sweater that suddenly felt uncomfortable. Beside me, she seemed to be doing the exact same thing, fingers pulling on the end of the dress she was wearing, making me smile.

The dress highlighted her bump - it was now undeniable that she was pregnant and even if I’d never been particularly attracted to women in this stage of life, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her now.

It was like she shined from within. Her beauty amazed me, and so when she noticed me staring and stopped fiddling with her clothes, straightening herself up to ask, “Do I look okay?” I had to stop myself from laughing.

“Yes.” More than okay. “But are you sure you won’t be cold?” We’d gone through this argument before leaving the house, so I was prepared to see her rolling her eyes as she reached out to take my hand in hers.

“Unless your family has the habit of dining outdoors regardless of the weather, I think we’ll be alright.” I chuckled, rubbing my thumb on the back of her hand, but it sounded nervous even to my own ears. It didn’t surprise me that she noticed it. “Are you ready?” She questioned, voice in that soothing tone she used whenever she noticed my stress.

“Not at all,” I admitted, but in all honesty, the prospect of joining my family for dinner didn’t seem as bad as it usually did. Not with her by my side.

“I’m here for you.” Hearing her say those words meant more to me than I was able to properly express at that moment so I just stared at her, taking in the fact that this incredible person actually cared about me.

“Just… don’t leave me alone, okay?” Her immediate nod had me smiling. It prompted me to once again lean over and connect our lips, only this time, when I tried to pull away, she kept me close with her hand on the back of my neck.

Who knows where this kiss might have led us if the door hadn’t open right at that moment, revealing my lousy uncle who stared from me to her with wide eyes?

“… She’s pregnant? With your baby?” A groan was all I could muster as a response, tugging her into the house with me. “When were you going to tell your family?”

“For fuck’s sake,” I cursed, looking around the living room for the bar. “Where’s the goddamn alcohol?” There was no way I’d be able to survive this night without it, as much as I wanted to be supportive of Y/N.

“I think that’s a bottle of scotch,” I heard her whispering next to me, pointing towards a corner of the room, and I sighed in relief at her understanding.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

An hour into the evening and I had already understood why Ransom was the way that he was - and why he liked his grandfather so much, despite how he felt about the rest of the family.

Harlan was gentle where all of his children were… prickly. In fact, he was the only one who addressed me at all, but I found myself feeling grateful for it, since when the dinner actually started, I wanted the rest of the family to forget about me completely.

“I am so sorry,” Harlan apologized, rubbing his hands nervously as he stared at the rest of the family who was walking towards the dining room. “I sleep early, everyone knows that, but this is the only time they could all gather and since they didn’t know you were coming…”

I waved away his apologies, offering him a hug as I wished him good night. “Just as long as you’ve had your dinner, Harlan. Thanks for welcoming me into your home.”

He accepted my embrace easily, taking advantage of the proximity to whisper in my ear, “Just hang on to him, dear. I promise it’ll be worth it.” I smiled when we parted, nodding in confirmation to his words.

“It already is,” I assured him, but he only sighed.

“Make sure to remember that during dinner…” Now I understood why. It started with a simple question, one of the maids offered me some meat, and when I hesitated to answer…

“God, are you daft, girl? Have you never eaten lamb?” My eyes widened in surprise, but before Ransom could have the chance to throw himself at his mother, I just squeezed his thigh.

“I was going to ask her if there was any oregano in the sauce. It’s been making me feel sick.” I didn’t need to add why - the reminder of my situation, of what led me to be there with them in this dining room was very clear in me.

And still, that didn’t stop them.

“That’s a pretty necklace…” Ransom’s father commented before we could even grab a bite. I chuckled to myself, immediately catching onto what he wasn’t saying.

“Thanks, I got it at a little boutique back home. It was a gift for myself after I got my first paycheck.” I could feel Ransom’s gaze on me, the waves of pride rolling from him in waves. It made me smile, but it was just the calm before the storm.

“Ransom, have you contacted a lawyer?” This question came from his uncle’s wife, Donna - I think that’s what she was called. Not that she tried to introduce herself to me or anything, but Harlan made sure I knew everyone’s name as soon as I stepped inside the house.

“Why?” Ransom’s tone was vicious and his squinted eyes alerted everyone that he was prepared for a strike, but the fact that he still hadn’t anticipated what was coming almost made me laugh.

Even Donna herself hesitated, unbelieving that he was going to make her say it. “There’s no way you’re that stupid.” And just like that, the doors to hell were opened up.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but then again, was I really surprised?

“You should make sure to draw a prenup,” Donna insisted, while the rest of the family pretended not to hear, undoubtedly coming up with their own ways to insult Y/N. “Something that will assure only your kid has access to your money.”

I could hear Y/N quietly laughing to herself next to me, but while she was able to find the irony in the situation amusing, all I felt was blinding rage.

“God, do you even hear the shit you say? I never asked for your input, this, right here, is precisely why I didn’t tell any of you all about my baby.” I saw Y/N flinch from the corner of my eyes before I heard my mother’s fork drop against the precious porcelain dish she was pretending to eat from. I knew this was the sorest topic of discussion for her. I knew this was why she had been pretending Y/N wasn’t even there, hadn’t even been invited to dinner with me.

“Fair enough,” she spoke, lying back against her chair as she finally raised her eyes to meet mine. “I don’t know if we even should learn anything about this child, considering it most likely isn’t even yours.”

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice over me. Y/N was oddly quiet now, seemingly as frozen as me - and when I realized that, my anger returned with twice its power.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I warned, just as my mother retorted, “Don’t you talk like that to me.” I didn’t even have the chance to talk back when she stroke again. “You fuck so many ransom desperate chicks, I’m surprised this is the first you knocked up.”

This was as insulting to her as it was to me, and it also struck a chord in me because of how I feared this was just reinforcing Y/N’s views of me. “Don’t say shit like that,” I threatened, to no avail. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Ransom…” Her sweet voice tried to intervene, but I was too far gone to hold myself back now. I couldn’t stand the thought that I was hurting her because I was the reason she was here in the first place.

“You know nothing about her, and yet you feel comfortable judging her,” I continued, ignoring her completely. “She’s a lawyer, actually. You would know it if you had even bothered to talk to her. If there was ever the need for a prenup, I’d have her draw it.”

Maybe they thought I’d stop at that - I thought so myself, until I realized there was still so much I wanted to get out, and I was going to do that now.

“And you know what? I trust her more than I trust you, and I came out of you. So maybe you should consider that before you attack the one person I try to introduce to my family.” I hated everything about this. I hated how they still managed to get to me, how the fact that my own mother, who I didn’t even respect, still managed to make me feel inadequate about the one thing in my life that made me excited.

I knew I’d always lose with them. They just had this way of inciting the beast in me - they brought out the worst in me, and I felt helpless to fight it.

“Okay, so she’s not some random skank,” my uncle oh-so-helplessly interrupted, immediately making me want to punch him in his stupid face. “But this just means she’s the one playing you.”

“Oh, shut up!” I threw my hands up, pushing my chair away from the table, fully intended to storm out of the room until Meg was the one who stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Did you even get a paternity test, Ransom?” She seemed almost uncomfortable to voice it, eyes darting from me to Y/N, but I could read her apologetic smile perfectly.

She just didn’t want someone else to get Harlan’s attention and interest because that would potentially mean less money to each and everyone of the people in this room, as he’d add one more person to his aid list.

My father took advantage of what Meg said, waving in her direction. “Don’t you know how important this family is? How quickly she could rise in any job because of a connection to us?”

My mother scoffed, finally ready to interfere again. “Knowing she’s actually smart leaves me even more surprised that you’ve relented and decided to become someone’s little plaything until this baby pops out. I’m assuming a few months with a screaming kid and you’re just gonna abandon her anyway. Which is fine by me, I won’t have to pretend to be a grandmother for long.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

All I could think was how grateful I was that I had accompanied him to this dinner tonight. As I watched his chest heaving with fury, I could not imagine how he would have felt having to deal with all of this on his own.

“Ransom,” I tried to catch his attention, pulling him back to his seat. “Ransom, it’s okay,” I tried to appease him, but he was too fucking gone to care.

“No, it’s not okay, he pushed my hand away, getting up from his chair to lean over the table, both hands on top of it as he stared at his mother. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelled, making me flinch, although Linda hardly seemed bothered by it.

Then, much to my surprise, Ransom straightened up, running a hand through his hair as an emotionless chuckle escaped him. “No, you know what? You’re right. You’re not gonna be a grandmother. I’m gonna be a father, Harlan’s gonna be a great-grandfather, but that’s it. I’m not gonna keep taking your shit anymore, Linda, you know why? Even if this child wasn’t mine, I’d still want her and this kid.”

My heartbeat pumped out of control as he continued, “She’s not just someone who’s carrying my child. I care about her. And if you can’t respect her, than I guess I was right in keeping this pregnancy from you.”

I held my breath as Ransom apparently caught his, my head swirling with the different emotions running through me - my infatuation for this man, who had so fiercely defended me from his entire family, the adrenaline from witnessing such a vicious argument.

I truly believed this would be the end of it. I didn’t know where they could go from here - that was, of course, until Linda decided to attack him.

“Oh, and you think you’re going to be so great with it?” My blood boiled when her words turned against her own son so easily. Attack me and my dignity? That was okay, these people didn’t know me.

But seeing her attack Ransom was just too much for me.

“Do you think she’ll want to keep you around once she realizes she’ll be raising two children with you to weigh her down?” Ransom visibly faltered, like she had slapped him, and that’s when I had enough. “You’ll never be able to give her the emotional support that she needs and you know that.”

I rose to my feet at that, holding onto my lower back as I softly slapped Ransom’s back in an attempt to calm him down. “I got this, babe.” He was so surprised - and still so hurt by his mother’s statements - that he didn’t even try to stop me. In fact, I think he didn’t even realize what was going on until I turned to Linda and started talking.

“Do you really think that poorly of your son that you can’t believe he has anything to offer in a relationship?” Now she was the one who looked up at me with an expression that looked like I had physically hurt her.

“Is it that unbelievable to you, that someone would be able to like him for him?” She didn’t seem to be able to find anything to answer to me, and when I turned to Richard, I was also met with silence.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

“Well, I do,” she announced, like it was the single most obvious thing, the simplest fact to deduce in the world, while I stood back watching her with my mouth hanging open. “I like him enough to be willing to open up to him even if one day he might leave me because to me, he is worth any possibility of future pain.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d never had anyone defend me like this, not even Harlan - not even my parents, when I was a kid and the bigger children decided to bully me.

No, back then all I got was a talk about how “real men don’t cry” and if my father ever caught me cowering from someone else again he’d give me a real reason to be afraid.

“And I do say possibility,” she continued, not having raised her voice for even a second and still to effortlessly able to catch the attention of everyone in the room, assure herself the ground to speak her mind without the fear of interruptions. “Because Ransom’s actions have never given me any reason to think that outcome is even remotely probable.”

“So maybe you think about your own opinions of your son’s character and see if they don’t reflect your own more than they reflect his actions.” She turned around after that, tiny hand encircling my wrist as she began to yank me in the direction of the front door.

“Let’s go.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale reader #my series #ransom drysdale reader insert #ransom drysdale reader inserts #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale series #ransom drysdale writings

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claudiasjeancregg · 3 years

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we can find each other this way, i believe

for the tww flowershop au, created here!!

for ariel and bianca, and everyone who’s helped create this lovely universe<3

title from Come and Find Me by Josh Ritters, a song @aerielz introduced me to that we both now think should be this au’s anthem. seriously, listen to it.

Toby opens every morning, bright and early. Comes with the job of owning the shop, he supposes. But still, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for Sam to relieve him of the duty for once.

He hears a shuffle at the door, keys jingling, and looks up without a word.

“Morning, Toby!” Donna breezes in, all sunshine and cheerfulness even at 6 AM— she’s exactly who people expect to work at a flower shop. He is decidedly not.

“Hey, Donna,” he mutters, lost in thought. Something’s happening this morning, something big that’s lying in the back of his mind, almost close enough to remember but just out of reach.

“Is there- do we have a big order we’re doing today?”

She frowns. “No, not that I know of, at least. Why, do you want me to do something?”

He shakes his head, giving her a sideways look. “Aren’t you busy enough?”

“Yeah, I really am,” she sighs, dropping her keys on the counter and jumping onto it, like his remark had been some invitation to vent. It had not been, as a matter of fact.

“I love my job, don’t get me wrong. But Josh doesn’t let me do anything! I’m stuck working on bacon in the back-“

“Bacon? Is that some tattoo shop slang I'm not aware of? Or— Donna, please don’t tell me it’s a sex thing.”

Donna gives him a petulant look, eerily similar to how his older sisters looked as kids when they hadn’t given what they wanted. “You’d think so, but it’s actual bacon. They seem to think I’m training to be a butcher, not a tattoo artist.”

Toby lets out an uncharacteristic laugh and sits next to her, mind filled with images of a future Donna with dyed hair and full tattoo sleeves.

She shoves him off the counter. “What?”

“Come on, it’s funny! You’re Donna Moss, you really want to work at a tattoo parlor?”

She turns her head firmly, staring straight at him. “Yeah! Yeah, I do. I want to work everywhere and learn everything and not just be Donna Moss, the blonde ditzy girl who can’t stick to a major.”

Well, he can understand that. Donnatella Moss is an interesting girl, the opposite of what he had expected to find in someone as— well, as blonde and sweet and young as her. But ever since she had walked in, incessantly asking questions about his shop and practically begging for a job, Donna hasn't stopped surprising him. She’s eager to learn everything about everything, flower meanings and proper bouquet arranging and the ins and outs of running a small business. She’s a business major— well, sort of. He said that tentatively because Donna had changed majors over and over again through the years he had known her. But this one seems like it’ll stick. She has a knack for business, enough of a knack that she had been able to talk herself into jobs at two stores on the same block.

As much as Toby judged her at first, he has to admit that she knew what she was doing. And he doesn’t want to lose one of his best employees— not that he would ever tell her that— but he isn’t about to hold her back from something that for some reason, she seems very interested in.

“Okay. Then I say do it. If that’s what you want, the shop can operate without you.”

“Uh, you know I’ve already been working there, right? I don’t need your permission for everything, you ass.”

The combination of Donna’s snark and the ridiculously big grin on her face almost makes Toby laugh.

“Hey, I’m still your boss. I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance,” he groans.

“I mean, I already have a job lined up! It’s been like two weeks, I’m sure they’d take me full time if I asked—“

“Shut it, Blondie.”

“Don’t call me that.” She rolls her eyes, but the whisper of a smile on her face gives her away. “Speaking of working at a tattoo parlor—“

A smile grows on her face as Toby shifts uncomfortably in his spot.

“Donna, I swear—“

“Oh, don’t even try and deny it, just tell me how you're going to woo her.”

“Woo her? What is this, one of your Cary Grant movies? This isn’t the 1930s.”

“Um, Cary Grant was the 1940s. Well, and 50s. And I know what year it is, the year doesn’t matter,” she says with a bright smile, pushing herself off the counter and landing solidly on the tile. “Every girl wants to be wooed, Tobias. You work at a flower shop, she’s upstairs, give her a rose or something!”

“God, it’s like I haven’t taught you anything. A rose is nowhere near the most romantic flower, it’s too cliche,” he mutters. He’s barely listening to her response, though, too busy imagining what would happen if CJ knew the full truth behind the bouquets he gives her every morning. His gift for her every single day, love and adoration and strength, placed delicately in a vase and arranged to perfection. And she still thinks it is just a decoration for her shop, a way to brighten up the waiting room in between the burly guys and terrifying girls who frequented the tattoo parlor. CJ had no idea what the flowers really meant.

Donna grabs a handful of blood red roses, camellias and carnations from the shelf— a handful that had probably been painstakingly put together and shelved by him, or Sam, or Ginger, or even Donna herself two days prior— and threads one through her hair with a concentration and precision Toby envies. She holds the rest out to him with a knowing look.

“Sometimes cliches are cliche for a reason.”

A retort dances on the tip of his tongue, a retort that will surely remind Donna he isn’t about to take romantic advice from a woman whose only experience is with douchey ex-boyfriends and her new boss— the boss she had pined after for years, long before she had been given a job.

But he doesn’t get a chance to answer before the old bell rings on the door, pulling him out of his thoughts. Toby looks up— and in less than a minute, he’s finding the customer the exact right flower to give to a new neighbor (forsythia, for anticipation of good things to come, apple blossoms, for good fortune, and peppermint, for cordiality).

It reminds him of the flowers he gave to CJ when she first moved in, after they met for the first time. He still remembers the way she looked, walking into the shop, her ever-present grace and fire shaking him to his core. The customer leaves and he’s left to stare at his wall of flowers, nothing to focus on but Ginger and Bonnie’s quiet whispers in the storeroom and the pounding rhythm from the deafening music upstairs. He only sits for a minute before his mind drifts back to thoughts of CJ.

And in a second, like someone had whispered it into his ear, he remembers exactly why today was a big day. Six months ago, she had started her tattoo shop. Five months and three weeks ago, he’d seen her face through a glass door and his heart had practically stopped. She said she likes surprises— a small detail that’s managed to stay in his memory for all these months, like a diamond buried in sand waiting for someone to come along and lift it out. And if his father had been able to charm her with flowers, so can he. He’s a hell of a lot more likable than his father. But that isn’t the point, Toby reminds himself. The point is to celebrate his friend’s victory. If there was ever an occasion for flowers, this is it.

He decides to create a bouquet that reminds him of her— daffodils and dahlias and daisies, gladiolus and ivy and yellow jasmine and kennedia. He doesn’t dwell on what they mean for too long, the sentiment behind the flowers obvious to him but hopefully not to anyone else. His plan fails in a remarkably short time.

“Hey, boss— well, that’s a very romantic bouquet,” Ginger points out with a curious glance, poking her head out of the back room.

“Boyfriend or crush?” Bonnie adds on as she hugs her girlfriend from behind.

Toby doesn’t answer. He’s too busy trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation— apparently, the sentiment was obvious to everyone. The downside of working in a flower shop was that the romantic flowers never went unnoticed. They all know the bestsellers, of course, the red roses and tulips and orchids, typically bought by a regretful boyfriend who they all knew was going to be dumped in 2 to 6 business days. But a bouquet like this either means a customer had done a hell of a lot of research, or someone in the shop had picked the flowers themself. So, in a few seconds, Toby’s private, meaningful bouquet is about to become everyone’s business.

“I don't know,” he mutters. He can’t even think of a feasible lie— he’s too busy trying to calm his heartbeat that’s pounding in his chest, faster than the most enthusiastic drummer in a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.

“Uh, I think it’s a crush,” Ginger notes. “Gladiolus and daffodils? Seriously—“ She shakes her head, the amused reaction of someone in a happy, stable relationship who had forgotten what it was like to be one of the lonely hearts. “—It screams unrequited love.”

Toby’s head snaps up at that. “Love?” he sputters. “That’s just- I don't know. I think it’s just a crush.”

He’s showing all his cards, now, and one of the girls is bound to figure out who put together the bouquet in a minute or two. But he doesn’t care. He turns around, about to walk to the cashier and hoping no one stops in.

“So,” Donna steps into his path with a knowing glance, the glance of someone who’s very obviously been listening this whole time. “You made the bouquet, right?”

“Donna—“

“Oh!” She lets out an excited squeal and throws her arms around him, before realizing exactly what she was doing.

“Donna,” he sighs.

“Right. Sorry. But is this-“ she lowers her voice. “This is you wooing, right?”

Toby lets out an exasperated groan. But she’s right, of course. This is, in some twisted way, his idea of wooing. Donna spends the rest of her shift giving him tips on what to say to CJ while simultaneously filling orders in the storeroom, a combination that leads to more than a few mistakes on her part.

But eventually, she leaves, and he’s left with a too-long lunch break to contemplate how to give CJ the gift. They’re just flowers, he reminds himself. Don’t make it weird, Ziegler. But his gift is more than just flowers, it’s a reminder that there’s someone rooting for her. A reminder that he’s proud of all she’s done in this past six months. Well, that’s what he hopes it’ll be.

Toby hears the bell ring and looks up— for once, he’s not expecting to be CJ. But it is. She stands outside and meets his eye with a careful glance, more anxious than usual. This is the moment he’s been waiting for, he thinks as she comes in.

“I got you coffee,” she says without a greeting.

He can’t stop staring at her. God, she’s beautiful. Tattoos dance down her back like battle scars, tangible reminders of her strength every time she walks into a room.

“Thanks, CJ.” Donna swoops in with an easy smile and gives Toby a nudge, silently telling him to stop staring like a pervert and to say something. Or maybe her look said none of that, and he was just projecting.

“You’re- uh, thanks for the coffee,” he says abruptly, turning back to the task at hand.

“It wasn’t for you.” She smirks as she says it, eyes dragging over his body in a way that made Toby feel like a live wire. He can feel her eyes sparking with electricity as she watched him stock the new shipment of flowers.

God, she makes him act like such an idiot.

Toby can't imagine what CJ must think of him, the owner of the shop downstairs who has a huge crush on her and couldn’t form more than a few sentences when she was in his line of sight. She’s just so strong, so pretty— not that beauty is all that mattered to him, but it’s practically impossible not to notice her deep brown eyes and hair that flowed down her back like a cascading waterfall. And her grace, the way she commands all the attention when she walks into the room, how she is sharp but never cold, never mean. And her genius amazes him— he isn’t one to be overly complimentary of another person, but she’s taken a part of the building that hadn’t had customers in years, and turned it into a lively, successful tattoo parlor. He knows they’ve only talked a few times in the months since she had started her shop, but her very presence brightens up his store.

She is like a sunflower, light following wherever she goes.

And maybe she has no idea who he is, beyond someone she talked to occasionally who brought her flowers for her shop. But for some reason, he still finds himself desperately wanting to know more about this woman with a million tattoos adorning her arms, this woman who knew his father and loves Donna as much as he does and has turned a lifeless corner into a booming business. He wants her, and it feels inevitable, a predestined fate that was sealed the moment he first saw her.

CJ leans her arms on the counter and lets her head fall. He isn’t sure what to do. So he doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t press, just pulls out a chair and motions for her to come sit in it. That lifts the awkwardness out of the room, thankfully, as she collapses into the chair next to where he’s working. They sit there for a while, just like that. And then he feels her breath on his shoulder and suddenly can’t think of anything but how good she smells, and how easy it would be to turn around and pull her closer. She’s like a magnet, this woman. It drives him crazy.

“Toby?” Her voice is soft, delicate, nothing like the steely way she usually speaks.

“Yeah,” he swallows, preparing to answer a question about why he acts so weird whenever she’s there.

“What’s the bouquet for?”

He turns around and follows her eyes to the bright bouquet of flowers still on the counter— the bouquet he made for her less than 20 minutes ago.

“You,” he manages to say. Her eyes widen, a delighted smile growing on her face. “I mean, it’s your sixth month here. I figured you deserved a gift for the shop’s anniversary. I know it’s not much, but—

“No.” She stops him, hands over her heart like he’s touched her deep inside, in a place behind her walls and behind her cool facade, the place where her strength lives. It pulls on his heartstrings, the thought of her choosing to trust him with that. It lights him up inside— the thought that he made her happy, even for a minute, hits him in a place he didn’t know was able to feel so deeply.

“I- really? I mean, thank you, it’s beautiful.”

“So are you.” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Who said stuff like that? He isn’t some cheap hack trying to pick her up at a bar, he’s her friend.

CJ’s eyes are wide as she tries to pick out the meaning of his words. He worries he stepped over the line, ventured into the unknown territory they have yet to allow inside their newly-forged friendship.

“Well, you certainly are a gentleman,” she laughs a little bit. It didn’t feel like a joke. The air between them is taut, filled with more tension than a magnetic field. CJ leans in, just a little bit. And suddenly Toby wants nothing more than to lean into her, to pull her close and show her how much he had meant his words. But instead, he pulls away. She was like the sun, and he knows that if he leans in, they will collide. They will burn bright and flame out in an instant. She matters too much to him for it to be a fling, and right now, that was all they would have. Toby grabs the bouquet and holds it in between them.

“Here,” he breathes, hoping she’ll stay for a while longer but also knowing that if she does, his resolve will crumble in a second. “Congratulations.”

CJ gives him a cautious, slightly confused, smile— “Thanks.”

She takes it from his hands, fingers brushing as he lets go. She blushes, the pink on her cheeks complimenting her black camisole. He watches her go, the bell ringing as the door slams shut. He hears it again a few minutes later, a few customers filing in to fill the stretch of emptiness that happens in the hours when he’s the only one in the shop.

He doesn’t love CJ. He barely even knows enough to like her, but that is something that happened without him even noticing. Like a wave crashing against the shore, he didn’t realize until he was drowning in it. CJ Cregg is an enigma, a woman who can make anything happen and does, a woman who makes him feel like he’s breathing in electricity.

Life’s a funny thing, Toby thinks. No one ever sees the big things coming, until suddenly your estranged father is dead and you’re the sole owner of his flower shop.

It’s startling, how much the last year has changed him. The thing he always was ashamed of growing up, something he never quite understood as a kid, has somehow become his solace. It’s grasped onto his heart, this lively little corner of DC, and refuses to let go. He even finds he’s minding the shrill bell above the door less as the months go by, and the silence more than more. A customer walks in, and Toby rises to help him. He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind— his unnecessarily morose self-reflection can wait. He has a job to do.

#ahhhh i did it!!!#i’m sure there are many mistakes but. here you go. this is obviously for the #tww flowershop au #tww #tww fic #my fic #fic tag #cj x toby #aleena writes #okay guess i’m doing this!!

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billxharry · 4 years

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The Day Before You Came should have been Harry’s song, not Donna’s: A Rant

You know, I very much wish they hadn’t included The Day Before You Came on the HWGA soundtrack. Not that Meryl’s version isn’t lovely, it absolutely is, and I listen to it often, savouring the much too minimal amount of Meryl’s Donna we got for this film, but knowing they never wrote any sort of context for her singing it, and never even had a plan to do so, because it was always just going to be on the soundtrack is a let down, especially when there was a certain character who could have benefited from being given the song.

If a song is included on the soundtrack, especially for a musical, where every song tells the story, I like to think it should fit somewhere in the film, but I just don’t think it works contextually for Donna in this film, and even more importantly, I personally don’t feel it fits Donna’s character in general. This movie is focused on young Donna particularly. Exuberant, passionate, bold and living her life with only the occasional and fleeting doubt. This song certainly doesn’t fit her at all at this stage of her life, before Sam. Her heartbreak over him, while justified, is at least somewhat eased in this movie by the arrival of Tanya and Rosie, then by Bill showing up and whisking her away, (I like to believe Harry arrived later as well, as I refuse to believe they were just that lazy as to not get the order from the journal correct, so Harry arrived at the island after Bill, they just didn’t show it, end of story. That would also help bridge where I feel HWGA! went terribly wrong in portraying young Harry and Donna’s encounter, as I have the hardest time believing the fondness shown in the first movie would exist between them based on that singular encounter alone, especially on Donna’s part. Perhaps another ramble about that at another time.) The most impactful of anything though, for Donna, was giving birth to Sophie.

Emotionally, for me, this song would have only have had a chance to fit in the first movie when we actually see the emotional hurt Donna has struggled with the years after Sam left, not in prequel sense, when what we see is Donna moving on as best she can, and knowing in the future her and Sam later wed and were happy. (For much too short of time. I will never stop being mad at this.) Even if they had put this song in the musical/first film, it still wouldn’t have fit, character wise for me, though. The Winner Takes It All was a much more fitting choice to convey those emotions.

What Sam put her through affected her greatly, and continues to do so, we do see that in the first movie, but both movies also make it a point to make it clear Donna pushes on, somewhat because she has no choice when she finds out she’s pregnant, but also because she’s Donna. She’s strong and independent, she doesn’t conform to the things others would think to do, and even when we see how these events have weighed on her as the years progressed, we also see at heart she will always remain Donna Sheridan, life and soul of the party, and how that spirit has always remained. What fight and determination she always had, she devoted use for raising Sophie, to giving her everything she needed in absence of a father, and I would certainly not label that a listless and aimless life of routine. In fact, with raising a child on her own, while also managing the inn by herself, we see the opposite is in fact true. She’s overworked and her life is a crazy rush of every possible job and ever changing responsibilities.

(An aside, I am aware that there’s a long standing thought that in the original ABBA song, the you the song is directed to may actually be Death, and yes Donna (unfortunately) did die (WHY.) So technically, it could be looked at that way as to why Donna would be singing it in the second film. That works even less, though, since the type of life that is sung about is especially not the type of life Donna would be telling Death she was living after the first movie where she got her (much too short lived 😡) happy ending. If Sam wasn’t the you Donna was singing to, and it was indeed a deathly entity, that’s an absurd notion to me. She would literally be saying her life was lonely and dull and without aim before she died? And had been for a very long time? Despite the first film showing us was that was never true? We’d also have to be ignoring the prominence that was placed on Sophie and Donna’s bond, her bond with Tanya and Rosie, the fact that Sam and Donna wed and we can assume were happy during the time before she got ill and passed away... No, be it if the the “you” is referring to Sam or Death, neither scenario works for Donna in my opinion.)

The Day Before You Came describes a life that runs on almost a precise schedule, without anything unexpected happening. Always being able to follow an exact schedule, always being able to have time to watch tv, read, get to bed for a lot of rest... It’s painful in how excruciatingly bland the existence of the life of the singer is. Unchanged, day in, day out. The singer is going through the motions of life, but not living it. They are lonely, alone. As I mentioned, Donna’s work life is anything but on an exact schedule, but even more importantly, emotionally that’s not life for Donna raising her daughter. Sophie means everything to her. While the romance with Sam coming to fruition at the end of the first movie is extremely fulfilling and what you want for Donna, the movie also makes it a point to show the true heart of the movie is the relationship between Donna and her best friends, but even more than that the most pivotal relationship Donna will ever have is the one she has with Sophie. She was not romantically fulfilled, that’s unarguably true, and she was absolutely overworked and overwhelmed, but she had Sophie and that meant everything to her, made everything worth it. The second movie, with My Love, My Life once again hammered that point home. Donna’s life was never what The Day Before You Came describes, and the biggest reason why was Sophie. I mentioned the Winner Takes It All being a much more apt choice, and it is. It’s very easy to see the romantic and emotional context to that song, and it’s definitely a song sung to a lover who you were hurt by. The Day Before You Came is... about a lot more than just the romantic side of things.

Give Donna/Meryl material, absolutely YES, but couldn’t it have been relevant? And seeing as we had to suffer through the terribly unnecessary death story-line, I would have loved had she got some truly joyous material, as we see her at the end of the first film, the type of material she deserved...

Ol Parker talking about this song, saying it was never going to be in the film, just on the album because “It’s so specific and I couldn’t find a way to make it work.” is incredibly disappointing for me, because no, you couldn’t find a way to make it work for Donna because it didn’t fit her, her character, or the life she had lead. However, there absolutely was one character who absolutely could have sung that song and it absolutely would have worked. Hmmmm, who could it be, who could it be, this is such an impossible connection to make apparently... a rather seemingly by the book character, who is living an unfulfilling life, alone, going to dull job, going home to an empty house and repeating it every day... hmmm. HMMM.

Honestly though, go and listen to the song or read the lyrics, and tell me that song would not have absolutely have been perfect for Harry. I can’t understand having a character it fits so incredibly well, but saying “it’s too specific, can’t possibly put it in the film.” Especially when you created two characters for the *sole* purpose of making Cher being able to sing Fernando work, but you can’t make a song work that fits a pre-existing character like a glove. Granted, Ol made it apparent he didn’t actually understand or care all that much about the “older dads” (the older cast in general was treated very poorly in this film as I have said 1000 times.) They absolutely should have had more to do acting wise, but singing wise as well. The first movie was successful because of the cast it had. Yes. Some of the singing was panned by people. A lot of people. But the success of the film was still indisputable, so I see absolutely no reason for including so little of what made it work to begin with. Colin especially could have pulled this song off vocally. They had a chance to really enhance the source material, expand on the characters we loved, and instead we got regressions of the the worst sort.

I obviously would want this song to be about Bill from Harry’s perspective, because Bill absolutely had every means to remedy all of this for Harry. Who better to give him adventures, spontaneity, love, ... and how easy it would have been. (Heck, it could have even have been sung about Sophie changing his life so thoroughly. I would of course prefer it be about Bill, because like Donna, Sophie means the world to Harry, but also like Donna, Harry deserves romantic fulfillment as well. I just want just Harry to have someone who has the ability to help him out of that life... The first film knew where the faults were in Harry’s life, and by the end of the movie they were on the path of trying to remedy that. No, I will never say Petros was the answer, but at least they tried, and more than that he unarguably had Sophie at the end. A daughter he so wanted. Harry’s life should have changed, at least in some way. By no means should we have ended up with him right back where he was, being unhappy and unfulfilled. This song, had it been given to Harry, would have felt like they were acknowledging this character, this life, and I would hope the “you” in the song would be enough to show that his life was able to move beyond that.

In all this, I don’t mean to say this is a happy song, of course not. There’s a sadness in the lyrics, a melancholia, especially with the slowed tempo and beautiful accompaniment by Benny that they gave the song for the HWGA soundtrack. That particular version really amps up that feeling, and that is why, as much as I dislike the fact that Harry is right back to being miserable, this song still could have worked with that story line. Take for example- In Bill, Harry had found someone who really made him evaluate the life he had been living, seeing it for what it really was and just how unhappy he had been, but now he has been given the potential to change that. Traveling with Bill has changed everything. For him. However, perhaps as far as he is aware, that feeling of finding someone who could change your life so thoroughly was one-sided, that this particular love was unrequited, and the things that they did together that meant everything to him, didn’t have the same impact on Bill, at least to his knowledge. Cue The Day Before You Came, a quiet but impactful reveal of the depth of Harry’s feelings, and the push Bill needs to work up his own courage to show Harry has changed his life just as much. Ideally, Bill would sing a short reprise of the song with lyrics written to convey what was missing in his life before Harry came into it, and finally they would both be in total understanding. Is this absolutely cliche and fanfic worthy? Oh, no doubt. It’s not the most deep or profound working of the song, I am aware. However, it is Mamma Mia! and I feel that’s allowed.

Having Harry sing this song would have been acknowledgement of a sort, that yes, this is back where this beloved character is at, and this is why, but there is something, someone, in his life that can help him out of it, and he can have his happy ending. I just feel that is a lot more meaningful than what we got, which is just... nonchalance about the whole thing. “Yep, there was supposed to be an awakening of sorts for Harry at the end of the first movie, but that doesn’t really matter, he’s miserable and unhappy, alone, still, right back in that lifestyle he was so unhappy in, five years later. It’s not actually worth the time to acknowledge any of this or try to remedy it, though, it’s not important. He’s going to end the movie in the same unhappy and lonely fashion, but hey, Fernando!” And we are stuck with a song, though absolutely beautifully sung, by a character it doesn’t fit, as a throw away soundtrack inclusion, nothing more, and a missed and extremely easy to see opportunity to give it to a character who really could have used it...

#Harry Bright #Donna Sheridan #Mamma Mia!#Mamma Mia! Here we go again!#I haven't posted a rambling rant in so long #so this feels good #I have actually been sitting on this one for a little bit though #It's so long #I would say I am sorry but i am not #I have a lot of Mamma Mia! feelings #whoops didn't tag #Bill Anderson/Harry Bright #but of course it is #typos abound I am sure #I am actually sorry about that though

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kazosa · 5 years

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A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement - Part 8

Summary: All you wanted was to use your skills in automotive engineering and design to open your own custom car shop. When the rug gets yanked out from under you, one of your regular customers offers you a job that you just can’t resist. Will it stay a mutually beneficial arrangement, or will something unexpected bloom?

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Appearances by: Sam, Jess, John, Chuck, Garth, Adam, Donna, Jack, Harry

Chapter Synopsis: Reader tells Chuck her plan. Harsh realities of taking over Family Business come to light. John will not go quietly. Reader is experiencing some anxiety about how much of Dean’s time is for her.

Word count: 11420

Warnings: Bad language. Alcohol consumption. Fluff. Anxiety triggers.

A/N: Girl code does not apply here, because the reader said it was okay, so don’t get mad at me.

Masterlist

Tags: @31shadesofbrown @xhannahbananax03 @closetspngirl @adoptdontshoppets @parinarain @babykalika2001 @docharleythegeekqueen @22sarah08 @flamencodiva @deans-baby-momma @collette04 @maralisa124 @mml232 @sympathyforluci @superthingsilike @collinsstanharbour @jxnnxbrxwn @winchest09 @sandlee44 @screechingartisancashbailiff @theconfusedcat @perpetualabsurdity @spnhollis @squirrelnotsam @cosicas-cuquis @coffee-obsessed-writer @sorenmarie87 @his-paradox @geeksareunique

On the morning of January 1st, you woke far too early for your liking. You weren’t completely hungover, but you were definitely not enjoying the bright sunlight shining on the new snowfall.

“Next time we decide to get trashed, let’s crash at my place,” you suggested.

“Don’t like the floor to ceiling windows?” Dean was already lying on his stomach, head turned away from the offending light.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you pulled the pillow over your head to shield your eyes and look at your phone for the time. Nine a.m. You had an appointment with Chuck at one p.m. and you needed to get your head right for it.

“It’s a gift,” he said.

You ran your hand down his shoulder, back, and over the curve of his ass. His skin rippled with goosebumps at your touch.

“Mmm, don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he warned. “You gonna go do the thing?”

“Yeah,” you groaned. Staying in bed with Dean seemed like a much better day than seeing Chuck. You needed to deal with your cousin and his duplicitous ultimatum. There were things you needed to say and the prick was going to listen, whether he liked it or not.

“I’m going to go over to my place, get cleaned up, kick his ass,” you said.

“That’s my girl. Give ‘em hell,” his voice was muffled. “I’ll be by later.”

“OK,” you said. “I’m taking Harry with me.” Harry perked up at the sound of his name. He’d taken to sleeping on the floor… on Dean’s side.

Dean reached his arm over the edge of the bed to scratch Harry’s ears.

“Harry,” he got the dog’s attention. “Scare the shit outta Chuck. Keep her safe,” he instructed. “Got it?”

You’d gotten out of bed and witnessed the whole exchange. Harry laid his head on the bed, giving Dean a lick in answer. After that moment, Harry was at your feet and stayed with you.

“Good boy,” you heard Dean say just before the sounds of soft snoring drifted to your ears.

You and Harry drove home in your Altima hybrid. Dean had insisted that when you drove it to his place, you had to park in the garage. You gave him shit about being ashamed of you and he said it was because you needed a proper car. Of course, you had other cars, but you weren’t quite ready to show him everything.

Parking in your usual spot outside your garage, you and Harry took the outside stairs up to your apartment. If Dean knew what you were keeping in the garage, he would be so proud, but you were saving that for a special occasion.

At precisely one p.m., you walked into the office. Chuck was sitting at your desk and had his feet kicked up on the corner, hands clasped in his lap, waiting for you. It may have, technically, been his office, but it was your desk, and you didn’t like the look of him there.

“I almost had to wait,” he said as you walked in.

Harry stood in front of you. His ears were back and a low, continuous growl began in his chest.

“Why did you bring that dog? He hates me,” Chuck whined.

“Because he hates you,” your answer was simple.

“I don’t understand this vitriol you feel the need to lash upon me. I’m offering you a job and this is what I get in return?” Chuck didn’t understand.

“I’m just shocked you know the meaning of ‘vitriol’,” you continued to stand across from him with your hands behind your back.

“I know you like to think you’re so much smarter than me. You have a job, a place to live, and are paid well because of me. I helped you let’s not forget that.” Chuck always tried to make himself seem more than what he was.

It was hard to believe that Chuck was actually as clueless as he seemed. You never could tell if he was just playing you or if he really was that oblivious.

“I have a contract here,” he went on, “that is similar to your previous one. Take a look over it and sign and I’ll try to forget how rude you are.”

You glossed over the year-long contract, not terribly interested in what he put in there.

“I’ll give you six months from today. June 30th is it. You’ll give me a 10% raise and I will hire my replacement,” you countered.

“You’re in no position to be negotiating with me. I let you live upstairs for free and you want a raise?!” Chuck’s voice was changing pitch, bordering on shrill.

“Chuck, you are a dimwitted asshole. I’m here only because my mom asked me to help you. Your garage was so deep in the toilet, I didn’t know if I could save it. For years, I made ends meet with the pittance you paid me, took care of everything and worked after hours. You’ve been able to take vacations because of me. I don’t think six months is unfair. I’m not signing a contract and if you continue to be a dick to me and my employees, I walk.”

“Your employees?!”

“Yes. I hired them all. With any luck, they’ll take my lead and follow, because I’m a leader, Chuck. You’re just the colossal douche that signs their paychecks. Six months. Take it or leave it,” you were only giving the notice because you cared about the people that worked for you.

Chuck considered his options and you knew you had him. Coming to the same conclusion, Chuck stood and reached over the desk to extend his hand to you. Harry voiced his opinion on Chuck trying to touch you and didn’t stop him barking, making Chuck jump back half a step.

If you hadn’t closed the office door, you might have noticed the man lurking outside. Instead, the door burst open and a tall, handsome Scotsman entered the office, effectively filling the space with both his size and voice.

“What the hell is goin’ on in ‘ere?!” Jack bellowed.

With Harry’s continued barking, the office door clanging, and Jack’s voice, your ears were beginning to ring.

“Harry! Down!” you yelled over the noise, and Harry stopped barking, but the growl returned.

“You need anything, lass?” Jack asked you, but was glaring at Chuck.

“I can take care of myself, Jack,” you stood between the two men. Chuck looked like a scared child, but his jaw was set in defiance. You turned quickly to Jack, putting your hands on his chest, gently pushing him back.

“I know ye can, lass, but I owe ye one,” he said for your ears only. When you shook your head, his volume increased for the benefit of Chuck’s ears. “Maybe me ‘n the lads can take care of the wee prick once ‘n for all!”

You were going to start laughing if you didn’t get Jack out of there soon. Behind you, you could hear Chuck making small squeaking noises and was beginning to sputter with mock rage.

“I am an important man in this town!” Chuck’s voice had reached full-shrill.

“You’re not even an important man in this room! Even Harry has more balls and he ain’t got any, ye fuckin’ twat,” Jack went on.

You pushed your former lover out of the office. He didn’t resist you but he would have killed Chuck if you let it escalate.

“Get that...that….that ruffian out of my office!” Chuck was suddenly braver now that you were removing the threat for him.

You patted Jack’s chest to move him back through the door. Your face felt hot from trying not to laugh out loud. With Jack safely outside the office and out of sight, you went back in to collect your other boy, still standing guard.

Chuck had finally found the ability to move again. He looked like he might cry and a sheen of sweat had formed on his brow. He staggered the 3 feet back to the chair and flopped down.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. He had his arm on the arm rest, holding his head.

You let Chuck have a moment to catch his breath.

“Harry, out. Go to Jack,” you told your good boy and Harry did as you asked but let out a muffled bark first.

“Oh!” Chuck’s hand went to his chest. “God!”

“Stop it. You’re not dying,” you groaned.

Chuck sat forward, reached in the bottom drawer and pulled himself three fingers of rotgut.

“Why do people hate me?” he asked after a gulp. “Even you hate me. People love you though. How do you do it?”

You had made it to the door and stopped to answer him.

“I’m a nice person, Chuck, that’s it. So if I’m a dick to you, you need to ask yourself what you did to deserve it.”

You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Without another word, you stepped out and slammed the office door behind you.

Jack wasn’t too far away. When he saw you coming, he held out his arm to you and you put your arm around his waist. He slung his arm over your shoulders while you watched Harry play in the snow and Jack smoked.

There was no way you were going to work that day and hadn’t bothered to put on your work clothes. Jack was wearing the quilted flannel and wool coat you’d bought him. He’d complained once about your down-filled coat being too bulky and you’d reminded him he didn’t need to hold onto you like something to possess, and he’d never done it again. Instead, he draped his hand over your shoulder and you held his hand there.

“That was fun, lass,” he commented. “Miss stirrin’ shit up wi’ ye.”

The ‘shit’ found you more than it was ever stirred up by you. In your time with Jack, you found out what you were made of. You could easily have walked that path with him if not for a promise you’d made to your dad. That was part of why you would stay behind when Jack was out with the club. It had killed you not to be with him but your promise, and Jack’s wanting to keep you safe, had kept you away.

“Chuck’s in there shitting his pants,” you both chuckled.

A few moments passed before the thing that had been weighing on Jack’s mind needed to be asked.

“Is he good to ya, yer new lad?” he needed to know. “Does he make you happy?”

The oddness of the situation was not lost on you.

“He really is a good man, Jack. He makes me happy. We’re going to be going back and forth to Kansas, so Harry will need to be with you more or stay with me.” You already felt bad for handing Harry off to him again and so soon after he got back from Scotland.

“Whatever you need, lass,” he said.

“Thank you,” you were relieved he wasn’t pressing further about you and Dean.

He let go of your hand and turned you to him.

“No, I mean it, (Y|N),” his voice sounded strange saying your name. “You need anything at all, you call me. Got it?”

His serious tone concerned you but you nodded. He took your face in his hands and pulled your forehead to his lips before a quick hug.

“I’m happy for ye, lass,” he smiled.

“Really?”

He nodded, “Aye.”

“Tell me about this woman you’re seeing,” you were dying to know. He’d dropped that nugget on you just before Dean had asked you to make the mutually beneficial arrangement.

“‘Nother time, luv,” he said.

“Am I interrupting something?” Dean had snuck up on the two of you.

Jack took half a step back from you, “Jus’ havin’ a chat wi’ the lady. You must be the dandy new boyfriend.”

“Fiance,” you and Dean said at the same time.

Dean continued, “Who the hell are you?”

Dean was holding a box of donuts from Donna’s. He must have walked up from her shop. The donuts were fresh from the oven with little tendrils of steam escaping the box.

“Dean,” you stepped to his side, “This is Jack. Jack, this is my fiance, Dean. Be nice.”

“Ach, don’t let her bust yer balls too bad, laddie,” Jack teased.

“Oh, she only busts my balls in the good way,” Dean returned.

“Okay. Give me the donuts. You two can measure without me. Just… don’t kill each other,” you took the donuts and walked them back to Donna’s.

“Ex-squeeze me?! You did what now?!” Donna leaned forward on the counter to hear you better.

“I...walked away?” you repeated. You were sitting at the counter directly across from where Donna stood. You were eating donuts from the box Dean had bought from one of your best friends. He’d gotten you four of your favorite and the rest were for him. He would probably eat them all in one day and not gain a pound, the jerk.

“I don’t care who you are, you got two cavemen beating their chests over you, you stay and watch that,” Donna said.

You sat back in your seat and eyed Donna Hanscum, former cop, terrible liar.

“I thought Jack was a filthy criminal,” you kept an eye on her reaction. Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “Oh...my...god… Donna!” you gasped, not holding back your grin. “Jack?! He’s the one who lit you up like a Christmas tree?!”

“Shh!! Keep your voice down!” Donna pleaded. “First of all, how the H-E-double toothpicks did you put that together? And second… are you mad?”

“Jack said he was with someone before he went to visit his mom,” you answered.

“He toldja that, huh?”

“We’re friends, Donna, we talk,” you responded. “No, I’m not mad. What happened to your thing about criminals?”

“Still the same, but a girl has needs,” she said demurely.

You knew, quite well, the appeal of Jack Sullivan.

“Are you two serious?” you wondered.

Donna scoffed, “Oh, no way. I kinda can’t stand him, but he’s got that bad boy thing going for him, so…”

Donna was looking at you like you were a bomb counting down to detonation.

“Say something,” she pleaded.

“I’m just… shocked,” you said, still taken aback. “I did not expect my straight laced friend to go for a booty-call.” You thought a moment. “Did you or he leave before morning?”

Donna nodded, “Told him I’d turn his ass in, in a heartbeat if I caught him doing anything illegal and he was gone.” She chuckled, “Plus, the smokin’.” She fake gagged, “No can do.”

“Donna, Donna, Donna.” You’d told your friends before that you were okay with them dating your exes (and you used that term loosely), you just hadn’t thought that Donna would be the one to test the waters. “No broken hearts, please, but you get those needs met.”

You knew Jack, he wouldn’t be with Donna long. He’d had a wandering eye, even with you. And there was no way would Donna tolerate any of the “activities” Jack and the club took part in. You raised your mug of hot chocolate to her and she clinked her coffee to yours.

The door jingled behind you and a moment later, Dean swooped in beside you, bringing the chill of outside with him. You and Donna both looked him over finding him no worse for wear.

“What?” he noticed you both staring.

“Everything go okay?” You weren’t sure if Dean and Jack would get along. You hoped they would, of course, but… they could both be very opinionated hot heads and Dean was only just finishing healing from the Christmas ordeal.

“Yeah,” he grabbed a donut from the box, “he seems like an alright guy.”

Dean chomped on the donut, seemingly downing half of it in one bite. Donna snickered at the powdered sugar on his lip and nose.

“Is Jack okay?” you asked, wiping his nose.

“What’d you think we were going to do? Duke it out out there in the parking lot?” he joked.

You shrugged, “Maybe.”

“C’mon, I coulda taken him. Guy is at least ten years older than me,” he took another bite.

“Oh honey,” you patted Deans knee. “Jack could give you a run for your money.”

“Yeah?” Dean was not concerned.

“Busted him for fighting once,” Donna said. “He sent a guy to the hospital.”

“But, like… a long time ago, right?”

Donna shook her head then looked at you, “When was that?”

You didn’t have to think too hard, “About five an a half years ago. I met Donna when I picked him up from him spending a night in jail.”

“Yeah,” Donna agreed. “But don’t let little sis fool ya, she can throw down with the best of ‘em. Used to spar with her, but not anymore.”

“Shady.” Dean turned to you, “You look so innocent…”

“Okay, I think we should go now,” you said and got up from your seat.

Your cell phone chimed and you looked at the display. Jack had text you.

“Give the laddie m’cell.”

“You two besties now?”

“Yes. Now help out, will ye? FFS.”

“What about Donna?”

“She has m’number.”

“I’m certain of that.”

“Who was that?” Dean asked. He had the box of donuts in his hands and was ready to leave.

“I’m supposed to give you Jack’s cell phone number,” you answered. “So are you planning a sleepover? Do your nails, play with each other’s hair?”

“Yeah, and no girls allowed,” he teased back.

“I’m glad you guys got along so well,” you were still shocked. You were also dying to know what happened and kicked yourself for not staying. “What did you boys talk about?”

Dean pushed open the door, the small bell above the door jingling. The air outside seemed to have gotten colder and the wind had picked up. Dean led you down the alley to his car at a quickened pace and you both got into his car out of the wind.

For the time being, you had no space in your garage for Baby. Even if you didn’t have your own special baby in there, you doubted Baby would have even fit in the old garage. Parked just outside the door, you and Dean rushed up the stairs to your apartment.

“What happens next?” you keyed into your apartment.

Dean followed you inside, “We turn up the heat and find a good movie to watch.”

“Or we could lie in bed under the blankets and just… I don’t know, be bumps in bed. I just need a day or two to recover from this… vacation,” you suggested. You wondered why it was that vacations were always so exhausting.

“Now that sounds like a great idea,” Dean agreed.

Settling on “Raiders,” you both got into your bed and talked about how you were going to work out the logistics of this change in leadership and ownership of the family business. It would take a lot of work and Dean would need to hire a lawyer, thankfully, he knew a couple.

“I texted Sam when we were leaving Kansas to call me later. I told him I wanted him to comb through everything, ‘cause I don’t believe for a second that my dad isn’t hiding something,” Dean began laying it out.

It wasn’t, in your mind, a good thing that Dean couldn’t trust his dad to broker a straight deal. It spoke of John’s character, or lack thereof, and Dean was understandably wary.

“What did Sam say?” you prompted.

“He agreed that Dad is a shady piece of shit and would get all of the records requested and start going through them,” he answered.

“And you told Sam about your plan for him to be a silent partner and Benny would run the brewery?” And you and me as King and Queen over it all, you left off.

Dean nodded, “He was a little miffed about not having a bigger share, but it’s money for nothing for him.”

“Speaking of money,” you hesitated. “I suppose Sam won’t do this out of the goodness of his heart?”

Dean chuckled, “No. It’s going to cost a pretty penny, too. Sam and I agreed we need to hit Dad hard and fast...and that means staff and money.”

“I can help with that,” you said, getting out of the warm confines of your bed.

“You don’t have to…” Dean tried to let you off the hook.

You pulled out the jewelry box that held your emerald earrings and held it out to him. You knew the earrings would barely buy a day of Sam’s time.

“Sell these to me,” you sat on the edge of the bed, “for a wildly inflated price.”

“Wait, what? No? No. Those were a gift for you. You don’t give back gifts,” he said.

You set the box aside on the nightstand.

“Dean,” you took his hands, “This whole thing with us started because we both wanted our dreams to come true and now they are. I have pinched pennies for years. Let me help.”

For a moment, you thought he might break down. His face got a little pink and his eyes welled up a little. He took a few calming breaths and you both wiped your eyes.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I guess this is our dream now. Out of curiosity, how many pennies?”

You weren’t sure, exactly, but you have him the ballpark, “Millions.” Dean stared back at you, silent. “Millions of pennies… It costs a lot to start a business… say something, you’re freaking me out.”

“Yeah, but most people don’t pay in cash,” Dean finally spoke.

“I’m not most people,” you defended.

“No, you definitely are not,” he smiled. “You’re awesome, you know that?”

“Damn right I am. You lucky bastard.”

He pulled you to him, the movie forgotten.

Over the next several months, you barely got to see Dean and it left you feeling hollow inside. When he wasn’t working at the brewery, he was in Kansas. He’d worked it out with his boss to get his hours in how he wanted. Monday through Wednesday, he worked 12 hours, Thursday was 4 hours then he would head to Kansas. Friday was spent with Sam and at the family business. If you were lucky, Dean would drive back on Friday night, but usually it was Saturday when he would get back, leaving only Sundays for you.

The poor guy was so worn out, he would sleep for much of the time you got to have him on Saturdays. By the time May rolled in, you had been spending the majority of your time at his place and decided to just forget trying to live at your apartment. You sold off a lot of your things and moved your precious items into Dean’s place.

May had also brought your 3rd replacement for your position at Heaven on Wheels. Becky Rosen was holding up better than the other two and didn’t take any of the bullshit that came with being around Chuck on a regular basis. She almost seemed to thrive on the stress. She was a little weird and didn’t know much about cars, but she appeared to be capable of running the office. For Becky, having the apartment above the garage was icing on the cake. Thought, there was one thing that both worried and amused you, Becky had taken a shine to Chuck.

You’d been sitting in the office at your desk when you caught movement near the floor. Leaning to the side so you could see around your computer, you spotted Chuck. He was almost crawling on the floor. He skittered inside and closed the door, ever so gently, then, as stealthily as he could, closed all of the blinds.

“What the hell are you doing?” you loudly asked.

“Shh!!” he waved you down, “She might hear you!”

Taking a hot second to think, “Who? Becky?” There were only a few women in the shop to choose from.

When Chuck turned around and flopped down in the old green vinyl couch, you noticed his hair was a mess, pink on his lips, shirt partially untucked. Chuck slouched down like he was hiding from the law. His eyes darted to the windows looking for the petite blonde.

“Yes, Becky!” he hissed.

“I thought you were doing inventory,” you kept your expression blank.

“That evil temptress ambushed me in there!” he looked bereft.

It was odd to be on the opposite side of this type of situation.

“She won’t leave me alone, (Y|N), I’m sore in places…”

“STOP!” you might be sick. “I don’t want to know the details, for God’s sake. I thought you’d love a stage 5 clinger like Becky?”

“Not when we’re working!”

“Set your boundaries with her. If she can’t respect that, then you can fire her, but I’m still leaving June 30th,” you advised.

“No. God. Please! Stay. I’ll give you anything you want…” he was desperate.

“Not a chance. I’ve already got everything I’ve ever wanted all lined up,” you waved your hand in a straight line.

“You know, I looked into Winchester Auto,” he had finally caught his breath. “Good place.”

You waited to see where this was going.

“Got a call from a guy in Michigan wanting to open a franchise of Heaven on Wheels in Hell, of all places. He said you should look into the brewery a little closer.”

Your brain was spinning. There was a lot to process from that little bit of information Chuck had given you.

You held up your hands, “What? What? What? A franchise of Heaven on Wheels?”

“Yeah, it was cool. The guy seemed like a fan,” Chuck looked super pleased. “Must have been impressed by our work and numbers.”

The man’s ego knew no limits. Of course, he wouldn’t think it strange to get a call about franchising, all he could see were the dollar signs. He completely disregarded that the caller had even mentioned Winchester Auto and the brewery. Whomever it was knew what to do to ensure that the message got passed along.

“What was his name? Did you get a call back number? Did you talk to him on the office phone?” you needed more information.

“Geeze. I wasn’t writing a book, (Y|N),” he grumbled.

“How the hell are we related? I swear it’s like someone dropped you on the doorstep,” you were going to get a headache just talking to him. “How were you supposed to get a new franchise going without getting more information, Chuck?”

You started pushing buttons on the digital office phone. It had a record of incoming and outgoing calls and you stopped on one that you didn’t recognize to write it down.

The look on Chuck’s face to you he hadn’t even thought about it since the call ended. It worried you for your employees, but if Becky stayed on, you knew she would keep a tight rein on things.

“What else did he say, Chuck,” you asked.

“He said his name was… Adam.”

“Adam?”

“Yes! Will you let me get a word in?” he balked. “And he wanted me to make sure I told you about the brewery.” He looked annoyed like it finally hit him that the call had never been about him or the franchise.

“I hate my life,” he whined and left the office.

You sat back in the chair and thought things over for a few minutes before coming to a decision. You pulled out a tablet of paper, a fresh pen and pulled the phone closer. You wrote down the phone number in the tablet and some questions. Taking a breath, you hit redial on the oddball number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Adam?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d get my message…”

Dean had gotten to know all of the back roads to take on the way to and from Kansas where he could drive like a bat out of hell and not get caught. He made the run back to Bemidji in record time. He needed to see (Y|N) and not just because he missed her like crazy when he was away. He needed to talk to her, pick her brain. There was something he and Sam were missing and they couldn’t quite nail it down. (Y|N) had called him as he was leaving and he let it go to voicemail. When he stopped to eat, he listened to the message.

“Babe, I got something you have to see. It might be what you were looking for. I think your dad… well, I’ll tell you when you get here.”

It had been driving him crazy for the last three hours. What could she have possibly found out while he was away? Of course, he’d told her about the issues Sam’s team was having. Like he’d hoped, he’d planted a seed in her brain and she’d been working on it while he was away.

He loved that she had moved into his apartment. It was nice to have someone to come home to, even if half the time it was Harry. It helped Jack was cool. He’d been game to help Dean with his special plan, too, and it was all coming together nicely. Dean had a lot on his plate and he knew it. The grind had been an exhausting one. Sleeping four hours at a time had become his normal and was mostly functional. He’d had a good night’s rest and was anticipating getting home to burn off some energy with his future bride.

He knew it was going to be a good night before he even opened the door. One of the many perks of (Y|N) living with him was that she brought her stereo and record collection. She was blasting Led Zeppelin, Mothership and the last strains of “Houses of the Holy” faded away before “Kashmir” began.

He opened the door as quietly as he could, hoping to catch her singing or dancing to the music. She hated him watching her ‘perform’ but he loved it. Dean thought she was already the most awesome chick he’d ever known, her performances were just a bonus. He slipped off his boots letting them clunk on the floor.

He found her in the kitchen making that healthy crap she liked to force on him. It was actually pretty good, but he had an image to maintain. Plus, he wasn’t going to completely give up his favorite foods. It helped (Y|N) liked them, too.

He said her name a few times, trying to get her attention. She was chopping onions and still couldn’t hear him. He opened the fridge door, grabbing a beer and letting the door shut on it’s own.

“Baby!” he called out as he cracked the beer.

She let out a little yelp, turned on him and if he’d been a little further to the right, she would have nailed him with the knife she’d been using to cut the onions. It whizzed past his head and clanged against the wall behind him.

“Whoa! It’s me!”

“Dean?” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Jesus fucking christ, you scared the shit out of me! Don’t sneak up on me like that! Oh my god, are you okay? I could have killed you!”

“Damn, sweetheart, you about pierced my ear,” he joked moving closer.

“What are you doing here? You left Lawrence at 8. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour. Oh god, I’m a mess. I was going to make this and get cleaned up before you got home.”

It didn’t matter what she looked like, he would always think (Y|N) was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He’d seen her covered in grease and dirt working on someone’s old piece of shit car, and he’d seen her in gowns for fancy parties. Always the most beautiful woman in the room.

“You’re so…” he moved closer, “...incredibly beautiful.”

“Dean, I do believe you are a romantic,” she said. “Only you would see this mess that way.”

He pulled her to him. There wasn’t much to what she was wearing. Cotton shorts. Tank top. By the feel of her body against his, not much else.

“I know we need to talk…” he said.

“Let me finish up, I’ll be right there,” she looked up at him, her hand snaking under his t-shirt, nails lightly raking his back. Her free hand holding his face before kissing him. Her lips and tongue demanding of his. He debated taking her right there in the kitchen.

“I’ll be there in three minutes,” she was breathless.

He wasn’t going to be anywhere he couldn’t see her for the next 36 hours. He stayed in the kitchen with her, close to her side, touching her as often as he could.

It only took them a few moments and Dean was impatient for her. The last of the items put away, he backed her into the counter corner picking her up. She wrapped her legs around him as he walked her out of the kitchen and over to his bed. He moaned every time she wrapped her legs around him and not because of her weight like she thought. It was because he was in love with his wife and she loved him back just as much.

Never in his life did he ever think he would have this kind of love for one person and have it continue to grow. He smiled at her as she continued to cling to him as he laid her on the bed.

“I missed you so much,” she said.

He still had trouble saying the words… he was getting better though. He loved her more than anything and he did his best to make sure she knew it.

An hour later, you were both satisfied, for the time being, and were eating dinner, in comfy clothes, in front of the TV. It was cute how Dean protested eating “rabbit food” but ate almost the entire batch on his own. His cheeks would be stuffed from the last bite and would add more to his plate.

“Thought you didn’t like the ‘healthy crap’?” you observed with a grin.

“I’m a man,” he grunted. “Man’s gotta eat.”

“Mmm…” you played along. “Gotta fuel up the sex machine,” you used a deeper voice.

“I’m glad you understand,” he leaned back, finally acting like he wasn’t starved for three days. “What’d you find?”

You knew what he was talking about, the message you had left him that morning. You’d worked on it for a few days and had gotten surprising cooperation from the people and businesses you called. To give Dean the proper context, you explained your conversation with Chuck and his phone call from the mysterious investor.

“So, I called back and it was Adam,” you waited to see what Dean’s reaction would be. “Adam Mulligan… your brot…”

“What was he doing calling you?” he cut you off. “What did he want?”

You knew the icy tone you were getting wasn’t for you, but it still set you on edge and you hadn’t even gotten to the juicy bits yet.

“I’m trying to tell you, mouthy,” you iced him back. “He said he called me because, his words, his ‘asshole brothers’ probably wouldn’t hear him out,” you glared. “Wonder why he thought that? Anyway, he said he went to the Christmas thing this year for a reason.”

“Oh really? Looking to weasel in with Dad?”

“Dean, stop it. Like it or not, he’s your brother and he wants to help you.” That time, he stayed quiet, though he sighed in resignation. “He went to snoop around because something was fishy...and to steal shit, but that’s not the point.”

“The point isn’t his stealing?” he growled.

“No, damnit. Not his stealing, your dad’s,” you let that nugget of information settle in. “When Adam was snooping, he found a bank statement and some bills on the computer.”

“Just what did he think he saw?”

“He gave me a what he found to see what I could make of it. He just knew something was off with the amounts,” you continued. “It was invoices and bank records. I didn’t understand what I was looking at right away. It looks like John was being invoiced for...whatever...and let’s say it was $500. John then pays $600. Only, there’s no record of the overpayment coming back. Most of the time, it’s not that obvious, but it’s been happening, maybe for years.”

Dean sat in silence thinking things over. It explained why earnings were lower than he’d expected. Sam knew something was wrong with the books. Neither of them knew what it was.

“There are people for this, right?” he asked, grabbing his phone.

You nodded, “Forensic Accountants.”

He pushed the ‘send’ button on his phone and waited.

“Sammy. (Y|N) thinks she knows what’s going on… something about overpaying bills…” Den sighed, “Embezzle, that’s the word, alright… Yeah, get a forensic accountant. Make ‘em dig. I have a feeling it goes deep… Yep, you too, goodnight.” Dean disconnected the call.

He sat on the bed with a stunned look on his face. Of course, neither he, nor his brother, wanted to believe their father was capable of a felony. They had no proof they could present. The evidence they had, had been illegally obtained and inadmissible, should they decide to press charges.

“Jesus,” Dean rubbed both of his hands over his face and head.

“What are you going to do?” you asked quietly. Dean and Sam needed to know what Adam found, but it didn’t make anything easier.

Dean could still remember a time when he had looked up to his father. He had even wanted to be like him when he grew up. That idolatry had fated by the time Dean was in middle school. Sam didn’t have those fond memories and had mentioned how he would like to nail their father to the wall. Only now, it looked like Sam would get his wish.

“Sam is going to see if he can get a forensic accountant. He’ll get back to us with what he finds,” his tone was solemn.

You supposed he didn’t want to think his father was capable of embezzlement, but it wasn’t being denied, either. He pushed his bowl toward you, had a drink of his beer and excused himself. You knew he wanted to be alone to process and think about what to do next. His life had been very stressful the last few months and he needed to have his Saturday nights to decompress.

The sun was still up and the sky was cloudless. Dean finally caved and had massive retractable doors installed for your sake. He was the one who could sleep anywhere, anytime, so when he pulled the shutters closed, it told deeply of his mood.

“You coming?” his voice carried across the space as you cleared the dishes away.

“I’m not ready to sleep yet. You get your rest so we can have a good day tomorrow,” you told him. “I’ll be in later.”

Dean didn’t argue, he just waved a hand and dropped into the bed. It had almost become a Saturday routine that if Dean was home for dinner, he would eat, then go to bed, usually an hour later. You’d even bought wireless headphones so you could watch TV and not feel guilty like you were keeping him awake.

“Don’t watch Lucifer without me,” he said just as you put on Netflix.

You rolled your eyes, “Go to sleep!”

A couple hours later, you’d watched two episodes of a different show, not Lucifer, and were finally feeling tired enough to sleep. When you crawled into bed, Dean was having a fitful sleep. He’d rolled away, his back to you. He was dreaming, still, unable to get into the deep sleep he so desperately needed.

You moved under the covers to get closer to him. You put your hand on his shoulder, sliding it down his back and under his arm, leaving no space between the two of you. Nuzzling into his shoulders, you could hear his heart beating at a rapid pace, even if you couldn’t feel it pounding away under your hand.

“It’s okay, Dean,” you patted and rubbed his chest. His body jerked, startling awake. He took your hand in his, dipping his head down to kiss your palm. Rolling slightly, you moved so he could lie on his back. When he settled, he raised one arm and patted his chest with the other. Taking his cue, you laid in the crook of his arm and chest. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you close. You hadn’t realized the tension he’d been holding in his body until he began to relax into the deep sleep he’d been trying to find. When his arm around your shoulders began to go slack, you drifted off with him.

Two weeks later, you went with Dean to Kansas. Sam had found an accounting group to go over the books for the Family Business. They weren’t done going through everything, but they had found enough discrepancies to confront John.

You’d invited yourself along for the trip back though, it wasn’t as if Dean would tell you ‘no’. There wasn’t a thing in the world that was going to keep you from seeing the look on John’s face when his sons brought him their findings.

Sam had suggested an informal meeting at the farm. Surprisingly, John had agreed to meet with them. What John hadn’t known was that Sam and Jessica had it all planned out, while you and Dean had known and been in town for a few days, Sam had only asked John the morning of for the meeting. When you and Dean had arrived with Sam and Jess, the look of surprise was clearly displayed on his face, as well as the knowing that he had been set up.

“What the hell is going on here?” John said as he opened the door wide for you all to pass through.

You were the last of the four to enter and closed the door behind you. The house appeared quite different from your last visit. The air conditioner had the house feeling like an ice box and had a reeking smell of smoke and… dirty dishes. You suspected a mound of dirty dishes filled the sink and covered the counters… possible overflowing trash.

John went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff drink. When he turned around, drink in hand, he said, “Anybody else want one?” He noticed the somber looks on everyone’s faces. “Wait,” he took a drink, “is this an intervention?” He smirked at what he thought was a funny joke.

“No, Dad,” Sam scoffed.

“Not for booze, anyway,” you heard Dean say.

John took his drink to his favorite chair and plopped down, not spilling a drop. Everyone took their respective places in the living-room. Sam and Dean took the couch where they sat across from John in his recliner, and could lay out their papers on the coffee table. You took the last space on the couch next to Dean. Jess was in the armchair closest to John sitting with her purse on her lap, looking like she was ready for a fight.

You sat back and listened as Sam presented his case to John. While his evidence wasn’t complete, it was compelling. John, of course, had been aware of the warrant for his bank records, and he, for a while, had felt surprisingly confident. Then his boys showed up and despite his best efforts, they’d found his little secret.

“You already owned the company,” Sam said. “Why did you even do it?”

“Taxes,” John said simply.

“You’re not denying it,” Dean said dryly.

“What do you want from me?” John asked. He couldn’t believe they’d even found it with how quickly they had been moving. He’d underestimated them.

“This could go the easy way,” Sam began.

“...or the hard way,” Dean finished.

John took a drink. This whole situation was like something out of a bad script. “Did you two plan that?” He pointed between Dean and Sam. For John, there was no easy way. It came down to which choice was the least painful.

“You can either repay what you’ve embezzled and we keep everything low-key,” Sam explained the easy way.

“And if you choose to be a dick, let’s face it, you might choose this route,” Dean loved laying out ‘the hard way’, “we’ll press charges and all your dirty laundry gets aired out for everyone to see.”

John looked at the four faces waiting for a response. He wondered how deep they had dug, if they knew how far back it went. Had they found everything? His eyes fell upon (Y|N), sitting back on the couch, watching him like he was an animal on some kind of display.

“And what do you get out of this, darlin’?” John asked you. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who figured it out.”

“No,” you shook your head. You didn’t think he would call you out. You hadn’t even reacted to anything that was being said. Quickly, you exchanged a look with Jess. She gave you the tiniest of nods. “All of us knew there was something wrong. You hid things pretty well, but it was Adam who gave me the key. All I did was unlock it.”

“What’s your number?” John asked you.

“Excuse me?” you didn’t understand. You thought this hooker bullshit was done.

John was still staring at you. His creepy gaze traveled from your face, down your body and back up again.

“I wasn’t talking to you, darlin’,” John still didn’t look away. “Was talkin’ to my boys.”

Special kind of pig, you thought.

John knew then that his boys didn’t know how deep it went yet. Sam wouldn’t stop looking until he knew everything. He was great at research and it was part of what made him an amazing lawyer. Dean might not have been book smart like his brother, but he had instincts that were unparalleled. He could sniff out a lie in a heartbeat and would surround himself with experts if he needed help. His oldest was smart in other ways. Together, they were a force of nature.

“I’m keeping 10% of it to keep me happy. You don’t have to like it, but that’s what’s happening. Ten percent and I’ll cooperate,” John negotiated.

“All of it or we go public,” Dean’s voice was icy.

“You two think you’re so damned clever. You’ll never be able to get it all back.”

“Why’s that?” Sam wanted to know.

“You think that I can do this all on my own?” John was mad now.

“What do you mean?” Dean was confused.

“What’s the matter, Dean? Your brother hasn’t figured it out for you yet?” John was deliberately provoking him.

Dean was so tense, it was like sitting next to an over-wound watch. You didn’t dare touch him in fear of setting him off.

“Who was helping you?” Dean’s mind worked wickedly fast.

John chuckled. He knew he wouldn’t get out clean.

“Your supposed best friend who got everything you should have had, including the girl,” John sneered.

“You’re talking about Benny Lafitte?” Sam asked.

“Hell, Benny came up with some of the ideas!” John was done.

Your eyes flashed to Jessica and though you couldn’t see but half of her face, you could tell she got what she needed. Her expression changed so subtly, you might not have noticed the tightening of muscles around her mouth.

“Who helped you hide the money?” Sam kept pushing.

“Get out,” John’s voice was miserable.

“I thought you were cooperating?” Dean questioned.

“I said, get out,” John repeated.

“I think we got enough, Dean. Jess?” Sam stood from the couch, collecting his things.

“Yeah, we’re good,” she had pulled out a digital voice recorder she used for depositions and had checked the playback. “Just a little insurance,” she said to John. It wasn’t admissible in court, but if it accidentally leaked to the press. It was an amazing leverage tool.

“Sounds like I should talk to my lawyer,” John mused.

You and Dean had gotten up and were heading toward the door when Dean stopped to say, “You could, but I would get someone other than Art Charles if I were you.” Dean smirked at his father’s expression, “He’s just as guilty as you.”

“This doesn’t have to be ugly if you don’t make it that way,” Sam reasoned. “You’re the one in the wrong here.”

“It seems pretty wrong to me that my own family is trying to burry me,” John seethed.

“You’re the one that dug the grave,” Dean growled back.

You put your hand on Dean’s arm. No one else could make Dean as angry, or as quickly, as John. Dean needed to get out of there before he did or said something he couldn’t take back. You loved Dean so much and didn’t want to see him go to jail. They’d gotten into an actual punch-throwing fight the last time they were together and it looked like it was going in that direction again.

“Dean, lets go. We said what needed to be said,” you tried to calm him, though you easily understood how he would be angry.

“That’s right, son. Let her lead you around by your dick. I assume she has your balls locked up at home,” John taunted.

Sam stepped in to hold Dean back as he struggled to get at their father. If looks could kill…

“I dropped you once, you piece of shit,” you warned John. “Don’t think I can’t do it again.”

Jess and Sam maneuvered you and Dean out of the house and onto the porch. You were fine with everything until John started running his mouth. It was as though every time he got called out, or backed into a corner, he had to verbally attack the person who made him feel uncomfortable. You wanted to kick yourself for getting angry, so you left the porch to walk it off and headed toward the car barn. It became suddenly clear why Dean would go out there to bang out the dents. Having to live with that insufferable man was enough to drive anyone insane.

You kicked a few rocks along the way and it surprised you, as you walked up the ramp, when the big bay door to the barn began to open. A tall, slender man appeared in the sunlight as he pushed open the heavy door. You were just reaching the door as it came to a rest. The man shielded his eyes from the light to get a better look at you.

“Well hey there! You must be Dean’s girl,” he greeted you like the sunshine he was shielding from his eyes.

“And you must be Garth,” Dean’s description of his friend had been spot on.

“You look like you could use some automotive therapy,” he smiled bringing you inside to the shade with him.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked.

“Dean gets the same look on his face when he ‘talks’ with his daddy,” he said.

Once inside the barn and your eyes adjusted to the much dimmer light, you could see the dust covers had all been taken off all the cars. You swore you had never seen anything so beautiful in all your life.

“Sure is a sight, ain’t it?” Garth smiled.

You looked around wide-eyed. Every classic car you had ever dreamed of owning was in the barn. Walking down the line of cars, there was one unusual car that stood out from the others, a ‘56 Chrysler Imperial. You’d never seen one in person, but it sure was pretty to look at now that you had.

“Whose car is this?” you stopped to ask Garth.

Garth strolled over to where you both could admire the car.

“Oh, that’s Dean’s grand-daddy’s car,” his tone was solemn.

“Grandpa Winchester?” you mused. You looked at the gleaming car. It was in near-perfect condition. “Did he ever drive it, or did he just wipe it down with a chamois?” you joked.

“He never got much chance to drive it. Henry disappeared when John was a little guy. Disappeared without a trace,” he explained without a hint of humor. “It’s the big family mystery. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this…” he looked around the barn before stepping closer. “Rumor has it, Henry was part of some super secret society, or government agency, and what he was working on was what got him.”

You took a moment to think on what Garth had said. It wasn’t something that had come up in your full-disclosure part of the mutually beneficial arrangement, but how does one begin to talk about a grandpa that disappeared?

“What’s the official story?” you asked.

Garth shrugged, “Missing, presumed dead.”

“Wow,” you said, more to yourself than Garth, but he nodded anyway. You continued down the line of cars and stopped at Dean’s Packard Caribbean. The pretty lady stood out with her island beauty, turquoise and cream, colors.

“Can I sit in it?” you asked Garth.

He nodded, “Dean said, ‘the lady has free reign’ over any of his cars.” He waved his arm wide.

You looked at the expanse of the barn. There were a lot of cars in there. They couldn’t all belong to Dean.

“Which one’s are his?” you were curious from what you could pick.

Garth pointed out a few. One was a Trans-Am painted just like the Bandit’s. Another was a Mustang that you swore you were going to try at some point, but you really just wanted to drive the Caribbean. She had been on your mind since December. Once you were in the gorgeous car, you quickly rolled down the window.

“She’s a beauty,” you grinned at him.

“Pretty car for a pretty lady,” Garth returned your smile.

“Garth, you’re a flirt,” you teased.

“Just call ‘em like I see ‘em,” he blushed. “Keys are in the visor. If you pull out, I can help with putting the top down. It’s too nice a day not to…”

How could you argue with that logic? Grinning with anticipation at driving a new car, you flipped the visor down and the keys fell into your lap. Putting the key in the ignition, the Caribbean gave a throaty purr as she came to life.

“Ride the brake, she likes to go,” Garth warned.

You remembered that from your brief ride with Dean six months ago. You put the car in gear and gently eased off the brake, pulling the car into the center lane of the barn and parked again. With Garth’s help, you had the car’s top down in a few moments and were back in the driver’s seat.

“Be safe out there. Don’t pick up any monsters!” Garth said with a wave as you left the barn.

You waved backward at him as the car breached the barn opening. The car rolled quickly down the ramp and out onto the dirt road. Garth was right, it was a pretty day. The full heat of summer hadn’t fully kicked in yet and there was enough of a breeze to keep the temperature down. When your eyes adjusted to the bright light, you continued down the road and spotted Dean walking toward you.

Dean stuck out his thumb acting like he wanted to hitch a ride.

“Hey there handsome,” you stopped next to him and leaned on top of the door. “You want a ride?”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Into town,” you said coyly.

Dean grinned and got in with you. As you let off the brake, you asked him, “Cash, grass, or ass?”

“What?” he laughed.

“No one rides for free, handsome. Cash, grass, or ass?” you teased.

If anyone had said there was someone better for Dean than (Y|N), he would fight ‘em.

“Sam has all my cash,” he reached for the glovebox to root around inside. Not finding what he was looking for he looked at you and shrugged.

“Looks like I’m gettin’ luckyyyyy,” you said.

“I’m not that kind of guy,” he tried to sound offended, playing along.

“You are today, sexy,” you teased.

Dean directed you to some of the places he’d liked to visit while he was in town and a few from when he was a kid. If you were going to move to Kansas, there was no way in hell you were going to live at the farm, so you needed to find a place to live. Dean had done some scouting on his visits and had you head west to a town called Lebanon.

There were a few places that Dean liked. You had all the time in the world to spend with Dean. You were almost finished working for Chuck. Becky had a solid handle on things and in a few weeks, you would be done for good. You had made it your job to find a place to live. You knew you would never find the perfect place, and, honestly, you preferred Dean’s taste in things. He had you drive up to what looked like an empty field. A rutted access road led up to the ‘property’ and you made sure you parked the Caribbean at the gate. If that beast of a car got stuck, you’d need a tow truck. You walked up the road expecting to see a house somewhere, but there was nothing. The road continued on and curved around a swell in the hill.

“I thought there would be a house up here,” you said. “What are you showing me, the land? Do you want to build out here?”

He had the biggest grin on his face, “No. It’s right here.” He was pointing at a door so weathered with time, it blended in with the background.

“What’s right here?”

“They call it The Bunker,” he was so excited.

“You didn’t already sign papers on a hole in the ground, did you?” you were only slightly worried.

“No, but you gotta see this,” he wrenched the door open. The steel creaked and clunked as it swung wide. “It’s so cool in here!”

You had to admit, he was right. It was about the coolest building you’d ever been in. Everything was Art Deco and completely original.

“Some of this stuff still works, too,” he switched on a table that had a big map on it.

“Whoa,” you breathed.

“I know, right? Wait ‘til you see the rest of it,” he looked like a little kid and took you through the deceptively large, underground structure.

You didn’t know how long it had taken to get through the building, but by the time you were done, you were hungry and ready to go back to the hotel. On the way back, you’d let Dean drive and he picked up some takeout from a local greasy spoon and brought you back to the hotel.

“You haven’t said much since we left the bunker,” Dean tried to get you to talk in your hotel room. “Something bothering you, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t deny it, something was bothering you. “It’s all becoming very real. Six months flew by. My run with Chuck is nearly done. Our ducks are almost completely lined up.”

She was freaking out. “I know it seems like it’s fast, but that’s how things go sometimes. Life moves fast, and if you don’t stop and look around sometimes, you might miss something.”

You rolled your eyes, but you loved him so much. “Quite right, Ferris. We haven’t been taking time to slow down, though.”

“I promise,” he grasped your shoulders, “when we get the business switched over to me, we’ll get married and go on a two week honeymoon. Just you and me, no distractions. We’ll move into the Bunker and we can have all the time in the world together. Sleep in the same bed, together, every night.”

“That sounds great, but it seems like we have to get married to get any time together,” you were still worried. Dean just pulled you into his reassuring arms.

“Sweetheart, I can’t wait to drive you crazy with how much I’ll be around,” he grinned.

“You want the Bunker, don’t you?” you asked.

You felt him shrug, “I want it if you want it.”

He really hoped she wanted the Bunker. It was cool as all hell and they could make it their own. There was so much space in there and the garage was amazing. (Y|N) could have a state-of-the-art set up in there for her business and… well, it was just too cool to pass up.

“When is it available?” you thought of the potential nightmare moving could be. Dean was keeping his loft, but there were your things… You didn’t have a lot and that meant shopping... You went to the hotel bathroom to look for your pain relievers.

“Beginning of August,” you heard him say. Finding your pills, you tapped 3 into your palm and downed them with some tap water from the bathroom. If things kept moving so quickly, August would arrive in the blink of an eye. You could make it. You had to. You felt like you were running on empty, but you had to keep going. It was not a good time to break down. It just seemed like a lot.

Back in the main room, you went to your bag, got out a notebook and your planner to start making notes and to-do lists. It was the only way that you could manage the anxiety. Having a solid plan and checklists made monumental tasks more manageable.

“You good?” he asked as his phone started ringing. When you nodded he stood up, “I need to take this. Be right back.” He made sure he had his key and left the hotel room.

You assumed it was a work call, or the real estate agent, and he didn’t want to stress you more. How he’d gotten through the last six months was beyond your comprehension. You had much less to deal with and you were about to break. Watching Dean was like watching a machine.

The end of June brought the end of your tenure at Heaven on Wheels and you were glad that was the last time you’d ever have to say that stupid name. Chuck looked like he might cry on your last day, not because he was going to miss you, but because Becky wouldn’t let him get away with anything. Chuck had liked her attention, at first, but he looked miserable as you had your last walk out. You couldn’t help but snicker.

At the beginning of July, you and Dean were invited to Ryan and Christina’s annual Fourth of July Fireworks Bonanza. Steve and Tab did attend, as Ryan thought, but this time, all of the rules were followed and no damage was done to person or property. You and Ryan both considered that a win.

For what remained of the month of July, you spent time making your lists and packing things you would need to take to Kansas. Oddly, or luckily, both homes, Dean’s loft and the Bunker, were almost fully furnished. It was the deciding of what stayed and what could go that got difficult. Dean, of course, seemed completely unphased by the whole process. You supposed it was his confidence in you to handle it that allowed him to focus on the business more than what was going on in his ‘house’.

There was just too much free time on your hands. You couldn’t move to Kansas yet, Dean was gone all the time, and that just left you way too much time to worry. It was a good excuse to browse websites for furniture stores that weren’t terribly far from Lebanon. When Dean came home after your second week of no real work to speak of, he had concerns.

“Babe,” he walked into the living room area. She hadn’t moved since he last saw her, “Have you been sitting here all day?” He looked at the magazines and clippings scattered around her on the couch and coffee table. Her computer was on the coffee table and open to a home decorating and improvement web page.

Looking around, it finally hit you, you needed to have a job.

“Dean, I have to get out of here. I’m going crazy. I’m going to turn into my mother if I keep going like this,” you got up to greet him, carefully stepping over your mess.

After a quick kiss, he knew the answer to his question. “How ‘bout I call the realtor and see if we can move stuff into the garage at the bunker? We could load up my Baby and your car… If the realtor says no, then I know a guy who has a storage place. If we’re good, you can come down with me on my next run. I can take you over to the dealership and you and Bobby can get started.”

Of course, he knew a guy. Dean knew everyone, it seemed. He made it all sound so simple. In a couple of phone calls, you cleaned up your mess and stowed it away. By the time you were both finished, you’d gotten yourself cleaned up and Dean had talked to the realtor and worked out the storage problem.

“Easy peasy,” he said, putting his phone on the now cleared off coffee table.

You looked at him and hoped you weren’t glaring.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you weren’t sure what it was that was annoying you. Maybe it was the simple fact that things always worked out for him. Not that it was a bad thing. What was irritating was how much you struggled and the solution always seemed so simple for him.

“I’ll start loading boxes tomorrow,” Dean’s next trip down was on Sunday.

He turned to you, not believing for a second that her “nothing” was actually nothing.

“Am I missing something? You still look pissed,” he said.

“This is just my face,” you quipped.

Dean’s phone was buzzing on the coffee table. He already ignored one call. Things at the brewery were moving along for him. His boss was getting refreshed on Dean’s job so he could do it until a replacement was found. The boss was a nice guy who let Dean, basically do as he pleased with his remaining time, but had a lot of questions about what he did and frequently called. Since Dean had given his resignation for his Bemidji job, it also meant his transition to the Family Business was moving along.

“No. That’s your ‘I’m pissed’ face.”

He ought to know. He’d been seeing that face a lot, lately. He was always on his phone and you’d let him know it bothered you. Of course, you knew he was in high demand at both jobs and was home with you more often because of the changes. You just wished his home time was exclusively your time with him. You hated yourself for being jealous of his busy life.

“It just seems like you don’t have any time for me. You’re gone all the time and when you are here, your phone is always in your hand,” you indicated the phone he’d picked up to silence. “I get you’re busy, but… With how secretive you are, it makes a girl wonder.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. He’d heard the jealous tone in your voice, too.

“Babe, even if I had the energy, and I do not, I have eyes only for you. I’ve already got the perfect woman,” he said, trying to ignore his again ringing phone. “Just let me deal with this and I’m yours the rest of the night, okay?”

When she nodded, she still looked upset, but he left the couch to take the call out on the deck.

“You’re not supposed to call me after seven… It’s twice now and she’s starting to suspect something… If she figures us out… okay, fine, later. Bye.”

#au dean x reader #au dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #a mutually beneficial arrangement #kazosa #amba part 8

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talktoten · 4 years

Text

@donnanxble:

He’s caught her.

She thought she’d been smart about it, that she’d hidden her tracks. Of course, it had been a long shot, especially with all her preaching about no longer keeping secrets. Still, it had been worth a shot, she couldn’t help but keep at it.

Nights where she had snuck into the console, and let her fingers roam the many levers. Levers that she used to know exactly what they did, knew which ones would send a push or pull, knew the precise force needed to go one, two, three decades. And the best thing was she hadn’t been alone, for those moments there had been that soft purr in the forefront, helping her sort it all out.

God, she missed it so much.

The TARDIS was still working on snuggling into that niche of her mind, to give her more than translation, to give back the cushion of all that knowledge. Those nights were spent squeezing out bit by bit, just enough to not overload her fragile mind. Murmurs from just her would mix in with the murmur of the central column, a melody that spoke of intimate kindness. Even as odd as it would seem to an outsider— but the Doctor was not.

“Sometimes things take time.”

His voice startles her, breaks her concentration and her hands snap back to her sides. The central column lights up, the engine seeming to start up, but they all know it’s simply the TARDIS making known what she thinks of the interruption. Donna pets the column, shushing as if it were a baby she were coddling, and tries to not look at the the Doctor in the corner of her eye. Tries to ignore the sensation of being seen so clearly, by the one person that understands her now best of all.

“I know,” comes her whisper. She lets her fingers trace along the buttons as she rounds the console, putting him behind her. Putting him out of sight. Out of mind. “But I just– I wish—“

Her throat is closing up, and her hands clench on a lever for lack of better outlet. “I knew it all, Doctor. What’s in your head was in mine. And so was the old girl. And-and-and I miss it. So much.”

This ship - the TARDIS - was something he had chosen again and again and again, above anything else, for the whole of his life. There was something familiar in the way her wide ceilings yawned above them and the echoey melancholy of her opinions and her - her presence, she stayed, the TARDIS was as familiar and as wild as anything and everything he could imagine. She was his home, through and through, and welcomed him back when he returned, and she looked after him in a way that nobody else in the entire universe ever would, or could, have done. This ship, the Doctor thought, with a hand moving idly across the console - he pressed his palm, flat, against this metallic part, here, so that he could feel the hum of her - this ship, the TARDIS, was his everything. She welcomed him back to the controls even though she was cranky he’d snuck up on Donna, and he smiled, this brilliant smile reserved only for his ship. It wasn’t at all unlike the Doctor - he often smiled so wholly, anyone looking could see, viscerally, how he settled into the happy, how he made himself at home in the emotion - but there was a fondness, too, a familiarity that just could not be afforded to anything else in his life. This ship was his. He understood, deeply, on some inherent level, the fact that - if Donna had ever had any hint of any part of the Doctor in her - he understood, deeply, that she would miss the TARDIS. Human emotions sometimes got a little squicky (that’s often when he called on his friends - because they were so human, they knew how to reach the others), but he could understand this one. She missed the TARDIS. He could not imagine that, at all. Felt some dread, considering it. She would have had the TARDIS, one day, with all that familiarity and fondness and love and the knowledge of what all the different dings and dongs meant, and then all of a sudden that was taken from her, and even thinking about it left a knot of something cold in his stomach. “Give me your hand.” He reached across the way, there, for Donna’s hand - took her wrist, when she passed it over, at last. “Keep it flat,” he warned. The little hand-holds about the dashboard, specifically for this purpose (’stroking’, Donna had called it once, but that’s what it was), had preferences on how to be touched. He placed her palm, carefully, in the same place his had been a second ago, where the hum of the TARDIS could greet her, so she could feel the warmth of that place there just because the ship was saying hello. That must have felt so empty, for her. This gap between what was physically happening, the hello she was receiving, and the familiarity and love and relief and want that should have - would have - been there for her, a second ago. If nothing else, Donna Noble knew how much he loved his ship. She was now missing the ability to love something that much, and that hard.

The Doctor watched her, with this strange almost-smile. He crossed his arms and legs; leant against the dashboard; let her seek out the other ways to say hello to his ship. His friends always sort of learnt a way to say hello - they all knew a couple of places, at least - but he let her figure out all of them, for a while.

It was strange, to be so seen - she understood what this ship was for him - and to ... see so much, in return.

“I love this ship,” the Doctor told her, plainly. Maybe that would help her - the Doctor never proclaimed to love anything, not with that amount of dedication, not with the commitment that this was. But he loved the TARDIS, he loved her, more than anything else in the universe. And maybe it hurt that Donna thought that love had gone somewhere - that somehow it had been lost - but it was still here. Very quietly, in the Doctor, the adoration for his ship was as strong and as fluid as ever. “The feeling’s still out there. It’s not lost. It’s mine.”

#ic #donnanxble #doctor who rp #doctor who #tenth doctor #UGH

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donnanxblearchive · 4 years

Note

warm suggestions meme | accepting!

He’s caught her.

God, she missed it so much.

“Sometimes things take time.”

“I know,” comes her whisper. She lets her fingers trace along the buttons as she rounds the console, putting him behind her. Putting him out of sight. Out of mind. “But I just– I wish—“

#talktoten #[ ask ]

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darveyfics · 6 years

Note

COuld you please write a 7.12 fic related please plaease im sorry for bothering you

So this is the scene of the two of them drinking together and listening to his father’s records. The one piece of context somebody might not know is that during a flashback to Harvey’s childhood in this episode Gordon’s band is playing a song called “Boppin’ with Donna”.

Sometimes I like to write a fic that starts on nothing and goes nowhere, you know, like the show. I hope it’s not too bad - Maria

Reticent

“Rememberwhen-”

“Ido.”

“Youdidn’t let me finish.”

Shechuckles, looks over at him with an eyebrow raised cockily “Really?”

Hersmugness stirs something beneath his chest, a warmth, a momentum only she canprovoke. It makes him feel guilty, the intimacy and precision in the way sheaffects him, dangerous. He swallows it down, dry and thick. Feigns indifferencehe figures she sees right through.

He rollshis eyes, “Sure, what was I saying?”

“Youwere going to ask if I remember another time we heard this song,” there’s notease in it but perhaps a little nostalgia, she understands his resistance tospar, she always understands.

Henods unspoken gratitude even though their agreements are supposed to beentirely elusive. A tired sighs pours out of him feeling the weight of theirrecent misunderstandings then, like fifty pounds sitting on his chest, stealinghis breath. He forces himself to shake it off “With my dad,” he meant todistract from the choking way he thinks about her now, in these increasinglyrare moments, like the two of them, as a unit, are fading, but it outs in awhisper like it is holy. In some ways, he figures it is.

“Withyour dad,” She agrees quietly, lovingly, a reflection of the sanctity in hisvoice refracted and divided like light into purer, more colorful sentiment.

Shehas always been better at this than he, better at feeling his feelings.

Therecord gasps and stops, saddling them with imperfect silence, the hum of thecity, ghosts and blurred edges. Harvey reaches over and lifts the needle beforeit can sing again.

Heleans back into the cushions, rolls his wrist until the amber in his tumblerspirals like a drain. His mind swirls and sinks with it, struck by a memory.

“Firsttime you heard it, right?” He asks almost sweetly; halting the swirl by rollingthe glass the other way he turns to her slowly.

Pastblends into present, he blames the scotch for seeing two of her overlapped. Oneexists minus ten years with longer hair and brighter clothes, bangs and a lotless complication; the other has been wearing black for the last week andhasn’t made him coffee in a year.

Hewonders who he would pick, fleetingly; knows without a doubt he would chooseher now, whenever now is. The most important thing has always been that she stays.

Donnasmiles, “Yeah, and he had the brass to say it was for me,” She reminisces,leaning forward. She pours herself another dose. The crystalline sound of thebottle touching the edge of glass ricochets across empty space prettily; theirtheme song.

“Itis your name in the title,” Harvey argues with faux gravity, still seeingdouble. In his mind’s eye, her dress is purple and his father’s voice ischarming, he never missed a beat with her.

“Itjust happens to precede my arrival by a couple of decades,” She counters.

Harveyscoffs, “Your arrival?”

Shenods “Yes, the amazing, life changing day, you met me,” she declares grandly.

He agreesbut cannot agree, “Seriously?”

Sheputs one hand on her chest, mouth agape, the picture of over-dramatic outrage“Oh, I’m sorry, we just established I was prophesied.”

“Inever said that.”

“Ithink you did.”

“No,I didn’t.”

Donnastraightens herself, crossing her legs and resting her hands on top of eachother on her knee, she stares him down seriously “Your honor, I think thedefendant is aiming for a perjury indictment.”

Harveysnorts a laugh, surprised as she sparks to life the old routine, there’sdelight but also an ache to it as they flex muscles they haven’t used forlonger than he had realized, “I believe the prosecution is distorting theevents,” he rebuttals setting down his glass to focus.

Donna narrows hereyes, pretends to look down at imaginary papers and push up glasses she doesn’tneed, “Mr. Specter, do you deny the day you met me was life changing?”

Harvey rolls hiseyes, “Really?” He whines.

“Plead the fifth?”She offers defiantly.

“Coward’s move andyou know it,” he chastises.

“If the shoe fits,”she says, reaching for her glass and taking a sip that does not break eyecontact. He watches the glimmer of humor in her hazel eyes and only marginallyremembers this is exactly what he was supposed to be avoiding.

“Whether you did ordidn’t is not the point, the point is I never said it,” he argues smugly.

“Well, well,” Donnastarts, leaning back with poise and pride, resting her forearms on the arms ofthe chair and drumming her fingers on the edges reflexively, “I see we havelowered ourselves to technicalities. Cheap.”

Harvey smiles, “Aslong as it gets results.”

“No honor,” she nods disapprovingly,though a laugh is edging behind her lips.

It is something elsehe has not seen in a while, this specific expression, he wonders if they reallyhave been fading or if he just hasn’t been paying attention. Which reminds him.

“My father did writea song for you,” he blurts out.

Donna lets the laughfly, he has heard it plenty but it is still welcoming warm familiarity, “No, hedidn’t,” She tells him like it is sure and obvious, like he has had too much todrink.

“He did,” Harveyinsists, wondering how he could forget, though maybe he is stretching thetruth, “He kinda did,” He corrects himself.

Donna raises aneyebrow, sustaining her suspicion “Kinda?”

“He never recorded it.It was a draft,” he reveals, “He said he got inspired out of the blue one day,”Harvey sinks into the memory, he himself only heard it once.

It was at his father’sapartment during a damp New York summer afternoon and they had run out of otherthings to talk about. Gordon hesitated to play him the song, kept explaining himself.Harvey mostly thought it was funny, “He asked me not to tell you,” He hadn’tand then it had never come up again, “I’m sorry, I forgot,” he apologizes and turnsto find her eyes, they’re glossed over with unshed tears. He blinks andrealizes so were his when wet warmth rolls down his cheeks.

“Did he write itdown?” It moves the very ground he stands on that that is the first thing sheasks, that she misses his father too.

It hurts all the moreto have to answer, “If he did, I never found it.”

She sighs, “If you do,it’s mine,” assertive but kind.

He sees the purple dressagain and bright red hair cascading over it as she throws her head back tolaugh at Gordon’s blunt flirting, “Of course,” he whispers so gravely it feelsmore binding than any contract. He could not deny her most things, much lessthis.

Donna nods, takes adeep breath and lets it out slowly, “You really killed the casual mood,” shejabs.

Harvey smiles, shakeshis head, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I wantedto know, I just wish you hadn’t done the job halfway,” she says it between asmile, it is a joke, an absolution, but he can see the edge of disappointmentin her eyes. He cannot read them as perfectly but that is a look he has alwaysbeen afraid of and paradoxically only grown more familiar with. He needs to dissolveher ache.

“Hey,” he whispers,reaching for one of her hands and stopping short of touching, they have kissedand hugged but he doesn’t know where they draw this new line, if meaning it toomuch violates its borders, “I am sorry,” he tells it from his core and watchesher drink it into hers.

“It’s okay,” sheanswers, her fingers tremble, itching to bridge the gap between them, insteadshe recoils not wanting the blame for breaking them again just for trying toinch closer, “It’s okay.”

They are too tangled,metaphorically, sometimes he wonders if he can even shake her off withouthollowing himself out, wonders if she feels the same. He is selfish enough towish she does, it would mean some kind of barrier from the searing pain ofbeing left. He is selfless enough to also wish she doesn’t for a chance tonever hurt her again with his careless needs.

He should not be thinkingabout any of that, “We finished the bottle,” he points out flatly, stealing aglance at the half inch of scotch left inside the glass.

She follows his gaze,“We almost did,” Donna says andreaches for the neck, downs the rest in one gulp, “There, now it’s done,” Hewatches with bemused surprise as she sets the empty Macallan back on his centretable, turns it between her fingers to ponder the label, “At least it was justa 12 year.”

“You say that like itmakes us less drunk,” he remarks, covering her hand on the bottle with hiswithout thinking, without pretense, just to turn it to him so he can also read.Hers falls away a second later, he wonders if it means she is afraid to touchhim now, hopes not.

“It doesn’t,” sheagrees, “I think I’m tired,” she says and points it with a yawn.

“You think?” Harveysmiles affectionately, “Are you brewing a hangover?” He asks, mildly worried.He knows scotch can upset her stomach and that she hates to vomit, he alsoknows she has some secret hangover cure she never told him about because itwould ‘encourage his bad habits’. How the tables have turned; he is barelydizzy.

“Are you asking thatas my boss or my friend?” She interrogates, side eyeing him suspiciously.

“Both,” because he isboth, needs her there tomorrow morning but also cares if she will be miserablethe entire night.

“I’ll be late, butI’ll be fine,” she bargains.

His eyebrows knighttogether, “You don’t have to come in,” the complacency is immediate, so muchfor thinking he can accept her misery.

One corner of herlips pulls up, she wants to say that is not the business-wise decision “I’ll behere,” she reassures him instead. She is a little disappointed in herself forbeing so averse to letting him down even in small ways.

Donna smoothes outthe skirt of her dress and stands on surer legs than the half bottle she drank wouldhave anyone guess.

“Already?Lightweight,” He teases, sneaking a glance at his watch, a quarter to midnight.

“I thought you had tobe home an hour ago,” She bites back, the implication is a double-edged sword,reminds him he has someone waiting; reminds her that she does not.

Harvey presses hislips together and watches his hands intently. She sighs, taking pity on him,like always.

“Sorry, I need Advil,”she breathes out tiredly.

He nods, “You’reright,” he says without meeting her eyes, “Good night.”

Donna considers him,them. She is tired and dizzy and has a headache brewing behind her eyes; it isnot her job to heal him, it never really was, “You know, I was wondering,” Shestarts and waits until he looks at her again, “Would I make a good lawyer?” ahand outstretched, it isn’t her job,she volunteers to save him.

Harvey allows himselfa small smile, “Thinking about going to law school?”

She scoffs, “God no.”

His eyebrows shootup,”Excuse me?”

She rolls her eyes,“You know what I mean.”

He does. He takes apause to think on it “You wouldn’t,” he answers earnestly.

She is mildlysurprised; Donna narrows her eyes at him, “Not smart enough?” As if, she isfishing and he knows it, she wants him to know it.

Harvey snorts alaugh, “You’d overachieve I’m sure,” it is what she wanted to hear, theexpected, but he isn’t done “Too good,” He adds, “You’re… too good,” headmits softly, with candid admiration.

Her breath hitches,he can do that sometimes, when it’s almost midnight and he knows she will dohim the courtesy of not bringing it up in the morning.

“You’re a goodperson, Harvey,” their lives might be easier if she could not read him sofluently.

He presses his lipstogether and shifts his eyes to the floor, index anxiously thrumming the glassstill in his hand, “Not always,” he made a lot of mistakes, can’t tell whichone is knocking on his conscience the loudest right now, “Not like you.”

“Well,” she startsgood-naturedly, “Nobody is like me,” Donna brags jokingly.

Harvey smiles andshakes his head “I’ll drink to that,” he announces and empties his tumbler.

She watches and sighs,feeling the prickle of the headache intensify, “Now it’s good night.”

He nods, “It is,” heagrees without looking.

She can feel histhoughts, his regrets, makes it hard to detach, “Are you okay enough toremember your address?” She teases, hanging back, a subtle way to ask if he isokay.

He snorts, “Sharp asa razor, I just…” he lingers, deciding if he wants to keep her “I think I’lllisten to a few more,” He admits, “Since nobody else will from now on.”

He hardly ever makesit easy on her.

Donna sighs, crossinghis office to pour herself a glass of water. She takes a pill from her bag nextto it and swallows it down with one sip, then moves to the window where therecords are stacked and lifts two of her favorites, “Which one?”

Harvey almost offersher an out, but there is no point in pretending he does not still need herthere, that he didn’t choose the words to make her stay “Left,” he picks andshifts on his seat, reaching for it.

She pulls the vinyloff the sleeve and hands it to him, waits until he gently trades the one on therecord player for it before going back to her seat. Once she’s settled Harveylets the needle drop and his office fills with his father’s music.

“I miss him,” hewhispers like he is trying to hide the confession in between the notes.

Donna closes hereyes, leans her head back until she’s facing the ceiling and breathes it in, “Iknow,” she answers.

They don’t speakagain except to mumble simple goodbyes an hour later, giving life permission togo on unhinged at dawn.

Being understood isenough.

#darvey #suits usa #dailydarvey #donna x harvey #darvey fic #author: Maria #can ya'll believe im not dead #reply would ya #i need fuel to finish a fic about their dance and one about his mom

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leepacefansnetwork · 7 years

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New interview with Lee Pace for eCartelera: "Only Time Can Change Relationships"

As Halt and Catch Fire S4 starts tomorrow on AMC Spain, Lee Pace gave an interview to eCartelera, published Aug 30th. aided by Google and one of our admins with Spanish skills, we tried our hand at translating it. It’s another generous and insightful interview like we’ve come to expect from Lee, hope you enjoy!

Lee Pace ('Halt and Catch Fire'): " Only Time Can Change Relationships "

Pedro J. García Miércoles

'Halt and Catch Fire' returns to give its final goodbye, and as always, does so whilst looking into the future. The final season of the series created by Christopher Cantwell and Christopher C. Rogers opens Thursday, August 31 at AMC Spain. So far, 'Halt and Catch Fire' has shown us the ins and outs of the computer industry throughout the 80s, and for this latest batch of episodes (ten in total), the series jumps forward by placing us straight in the 90s, to show us their characters living in the first days of the Internet, and how technological evolution forces them to "reset" their lives and relationships.

On the occasion of the premiere, we had the privilege of interviewing Lee Pace, an actor known among other things for his participation in blockbusters such as 'The Hobbit' or 'Guardians of the Galaxy', and for his role in one of the most beloved of cult series, 'Pushing Daisies'. Pace, who gives life to Joe MacMillan in the AMC drama, was so kind as to answer our questions and tell us how it has been to interpret this complex character over four seasons, as well as what awaits us in the last chapters of the series. And don’t worry, of course we asked if he would also like to see a revival of 'Pushing Daisies'. Without further delay, we leave you with the interview.

eCartelera: In the last season of 'Halt and Catch Fire', the story skips several years into the future. As an actor, is it difficult to adapt to a new context from time to time?

Lee Pace: No, in fact it seems to me a very interesting circumstance. Time is the only thing that can change relationships. You can see this clearly in the relationship between Joe and Cameron (Mackenzie Davis). There is nothing that could happen or that could be said to repair the damage between them, only time can do it. The passage of time is what they needed to mature a bit and connect the way they do at this point in their lives.

eCartelera: Your character has always been dark and mysterious, a code difficult to decipher. Will we meet the real Joe MacMillan in this final season?

Lee Pace: Joe is a hard code to decipher, and I think he's still trying to figure it out. He is still trying to understand who he is and what he wants. Although he now understands it better than when we first met him. The most surprising thing about Joe this season is his relationship with technology. He wants to have Gordon (Scoot McNairy) and Cameron in his life, he prefers this personal connection with them to everything else, and that's totally opposite the Joe we saw in season one, who was determined to build that computer without any care for the people in his life. He is now a person who values the connection, who values others, and it’s incredible, because he has spent a lot of time alone, especially after Ryan's death (Manish Dayal), which plunged him into a deep depression. That's the most surprising thing about Joe this season, and the reason I find it so interesting to interpret him. After all that has happened to him I thought he succeeded in learning his lesson and discovering that nothing matters more than the people you share your life with.

eCartelera: You've come a little ahead of my next question. Joe is visibly happier this season. What is more interesting for you, playing the dark Joe or the more optimistic and proactive Joe?

Lee Pace: Each has its place. Joe is still mysterious. Even when he is content, he cannot help being a danger to others. Joe MacMillan’s story has become the story of failure, and not what he expected, nor what I expected when I began to play the character. Joe was someone who wanted to win at all costs, who triumphed in what he did, regardless of the price. It's been ten years since we saw him for the first time in the pilot, and I find it very interesting to see what he has done right, and what went wrong. Regardless of how much he tried, and sacrificed, everything has gone wrong. That is something odd and unusual.

eCartelera: At the beginning of the final season, Joe and Cameron spend a whole episode talking on the phone. Was it difficult to connect on such a deep level with her without physically sharing the scene? How was it captured on camera?

Lee Pace: In fact, we shot those scenes in two adjacent sets connected with a telephone line, so there was a camera recording each one at all times. It was a great way to work. Mackenzie and I were talking on the phone for real, while each stayed in their own space, not knowing what the other was doing. I did not see her movements. That was the idea behind the conversation, connecting to such an intimate level, being in separate places. There is a privacy component, and that allows them to be honest like they have never been able to while in the same room. The call starts because Joe is playing the video game she has created. Cameron is the definitive video game player and Joe goes out of his way to keep her on the other end of the line playing the game that she created, which I found very interesting.

eCartelera: Joe and Gordon work in a basement while Donna (Kerry Bishé) and Cameron succeed in "the outside world." What do you think about the emphasis on women’s empowerment throughout the four seasons of Halt and Catch Fire?

Lee Pace: I think it's great. That is precisely the story that reflects the time we are covering. But I am so involved in the intricate details that make up these characters, that I don’t see it that way. Donna and Cameron are beautiful women, very intelligent and interesting, but I don’t think of them as women, but as people who I work with. I've never seen that as a major component that defines what those characters are. But I understand that other people see it that way.

eCartelera: Now that 'Halt and Catch Fire' is approaching its end, how would you like the audience to remember the series?

Lee Pace: The show has become a very intimate and personal experience for me. I know these characters so well, I have lived their failures, their triumphs, their amorous disappointments...The audience reactions to the characters at the end of the season will be different, because the show has always been contradictory. There are no right answers, just the right idea at the wrong time. I would like the audience to have their own impression of the series, to draw their own conclusions from what we did with it.

eCartelera: Have you learned a lot about computer science working on this show?

Lee Pace: When we started, I knew a little, but the show has given me the opportunity to learn a lot about computers. It is one of the advantages of working on something like this, studying a new subject. In the five years that I have worked on this show I have learned a lot, and I am very grateful for it.

ECartelera: What would you tell viewers who haven’t watched 'Halt and Catch Fire', to encourage them?

Lee Pace: I don’t know, I think the show is not for everyone. But of course I would love as many people as possible to watch it. I like to watch it, the people I know like it. To the others I would say that it’s a good show, an intimate and honest experience. We recreate a world in which everything moves very fast, technology advances fast and this creates a very strong stimulus. It’s a privilege to be able to observe this moment of the past, before everything became as complicated as it is now.

eCartelera: You have participated in cinematic sagas like 'The Hobbit', 'Twilight' and the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Is there any other major franchise you would like to work in?

Lee Pace: I’m very grateful for the roles I have achieved so far. I have met great friends and I have forged great relationships for life. I keep working (laughs), and I'll be happy to continue to do so in the future.

eCartelera: We live in the age of revivals and 'Pushing Daisies' is one of the shows that most viewers want to see return. Would you be willing?

Lee Pace: Absolutely. I would love to return to work on 'Pushing Daisies' if we were lucky enough to return. Interpreting that character was one of the most fun experiences of my life. Working with Anna Friel, Kristin Chenoweth, Chi McBride and Bryan Fuller was an incredible experience and I would go back without a second thought.

#halt and catch fire #lee pace #mackenzie davis #interview #lpfn

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mubal4 · 4 years

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Wrestling – Life Lessons

When our oldest daughter was in 7th grade, Colonial Middle School, back in Plymouth Meeting, PA, she had a teacher by the name of Jason Taylor. Jason was the 7th & 8th grade gifted teacher. Well, that was his title I guess, but he was much, much more. Isabella would come home from school and talk about Mr. Taylor. “Dad, you guys sound so much alike. I keep telling him, ‘that is what my dad says,’ & ‘you sound like my dad.’” This happened over a course of several weeks and I had asked my wife about Jason. She had given me a bit of his background; was a teacher, left to become a financial advisor, and then left that to come back to this new role. Needless to say, my daughter and I were fortunate to have this opportunity. I first met Jason at Isabella’s parent/teacher conference and we immediately hit it off. At this point, I was well into my journey of change and transformation and Jason, well, he was way further along. He was incredibly wise, nurturing, patient, and willing to share; he was vulnerable, and this was with Bella too!! We met and spoke several times over Bella’s 7th grade year and collaborated on a few things. He made me feel safe and gave me courage to open up. He was very instrumental in my growth over those two years and I know for a fact, Isabella too. A couple of years ago, God called Jason after fighting brain cancer for a number of years. Isabella and I went to the services and the celebration of his life was powerful. He impacted so many people during his life and, he continues to do that today. Jason was gracious enough to leave so many, Isabella and I included, with many lessons; some of those are via memory and some, in writing. In my journal, I have a piece he wrote that I review every other month or so. You can see it in the picture above. Jason was a baseball player when he was younger and continued as a coach, volunteer, and supporter of areas organizations. His playing & coaching experience relates well to life, as you will read in the attached piece. I’ve been reading this several times each year and last month, I got the urge to share with you what wrestling has done for me in life. Although it will not be as eloquent and tightly written as Jason’s 😊, it is from the heart and with him in mind. I am grateful to have spent some time with him and Jason, I thank you for the impact you’ve had on my daughter, me, and my family. Also, thank you for giving me the guidance and courage to share my story.

Inspired by Jason Taylor:

Like many of my blog entries, I am going to attack this the same and just hit it head on, write from the heart, and see where this takes us 😊. I spent approximately 15-16 years wrestling and the most impactful, memorable, and where I feel I learned the most where from 7th grade through my senior year of high school. This all took place in Northeastern PA. When I was growing up and during these years, the wrestling community was a family. I am truly grateful for the opportunity I had wrestling Division 1 in college but the time, and the people in Abington Heights community were extremely poignant in who I am today. I do have to state that I am thankful to Mr. Pratico from Valley View. He was my first wrestling coach and got me, kept me involved during those younger days of t-shirts under my singlet and Keds Sneakers on my feet 😊. By the way, as I am writing this, I am working to find a picture of me wrestling and have engaged the help of my mother in the process. Hopefully by the time I post it we will have one, or, hopefully we don’t (lol)!! When I was in 5th grade, my family moved from Jessup, PA to Clarks Summit, PA. As I think back to that time, I was really clueless and don’t remember thinking much. I am sure my mom and dad can share stories of our adjustment and, having recently made a big move with my family, I am sure it was difficult for me at that age, as well as for my older siblings. But again, I don’t recall that. What I do remember is wrestling those earlier years and, maybe I am wrong, but as a 45-year-old man thinking back to this time 35 years ago, I remember feeling welcomed, embraced, and supported as the new kid. At this time, I had graduated from Keds to actual wrestling shoes…...I think 😊. Those first few years are sort of a blur and don’t remember details until 7th-8th grade. What I do remember though from 5th is meeting and become friends with the Cook family. They lived less than a mile from us and helped us out of a jam during our first winter in Chinchilla (look it up 😊). Our car stalled and Mr. Cook was there to toe us up the hill, with his 3 boys, Bob, Jimmy, and Kenny – all wrestlers. Bob was the oldest and Jimmy and Kenny a couple of years younger. Hell, I can go into pages and pages of stories about the four of us through the years and I know our parents can tell you some “real good stories too.” The actual truthful ones 😊. We met in a tow truck on Shady Lane Rd during a snowstorm and became brothers on the wrestling mat over the course of the next several years. What is crazy, when we are fortunate enough to get to see each other every so often, we pick up where we left off. These friendships grew and as we continued to become more involved in wrestling over the years, our “team” morphed and grew to family. My time over those 6-7 years were with the Cook’s, Evans’, Petty’s, Kresage’s, Pentasuglio’s, Tench’s, and a few years later the Shane’s. We had our coaches, John Diven was critical, not only as a coach but as a person. He helped me understand how to transition things I was learning on the mat to life. These relationships were not just in the wrestling room with us boys; our parents connected, our siblings new and supported us and each other. There were many nights out at the “team’s” homes after matches, at John K’s Pub, and on road trips being together. This is my perspective, we all have them, but as I look back, I am so very grateful for that time in my life. The sport of wrestling is special for what it has taught me and for how it has shaped me. But the people that I was blessed to have influence me during those years, because of my involvement in the sport, those Abington Heights folks, well THANK YOU! Some of those relationships are intact today, a few of them incredibly strong too! These aren’t folks that I met when was an adult. These are folks and families that I met when I was 10, 11 years old. I have known these people for the vast majority of my life and, when I am fortunate enough to see them, not as often as I would like, there is still a hug, a kiss, an embrace, and a welcoming in; just like it was so many years ago.

Today I see glimpses of it with my daughters being involved in gymnastics and soccer, respectfully. When we moved out to AZ is a prime example, they, and we, Robin and I, have been accepted as part of the team, the group if you will. And, I am starting to feel a semblance of that “family” atmosphere. It is good and I am sure over time that will grow. But, and maybe it is the wrestling community; hell, being a wrestler, you all want to say it, we aren’t all right in the head you know! 😊. Seriously though, there was something extraordinarily special about that time in my life, that community at Abington Heights, THE ENTIRE COMMUNITY TOO, the people and the support we had as a team. The support we gave each other. I was privileged to be part of such a special group of people and am grateful for the impact you have all had on my life. There are so many within that wrestling community but also within the community as a whole. Let’s face it, if those moments and people didn’t have an influence in my life, I wouldn’t be writing about it here. So, thank you, all of you!

As it relates to the sport of wrestling and what I learned, well, from above – support, love, acceptance. Welcome those from the outside with open arms; you never know the impact you will have on them or the impact they will have on you. Work your ass off and when you are spent, tired, and don’t feel like you can take one more step, take one more; then rest. Be kind and respectful. Respect your competition but be fearless when engaged in combat. Shake hands and pay homage to the person on the other side. He worked his ass off too. Be honorable in victory and humble in defeat. Learn from your mistakes and listen to your mentors. We may not want to admit it but there are sometimes we are scared to fail, and you know what, we will fail. But your team will be there to support you. Your coaches will be there to support you. Your family will be there to support you. Your entire “community” will be there to support you. Sometimes it is going to suck, it will be hard, and you won’t want to go out onto the mat. It is common and it is okay. But, go out onto the mat and don’t fear the outcome. Be the best you can, that day, where you are. Whatever the outcome, you will be better off for jumping in with both feet even when you are scared shitless. That is courage. Keep fighting and keep moving forward. DFQ!! You will lose and you will fail. YOU ARE NOT A LOSER AND YOU ARE NOT A FAILURE. When push comes to shove, you have a team behind you, a community behind you, a “family” behind you. They will support you and help you. However, when that light shines bright, the time will come when it is only you out there and where you go will all come down to the choices and decisions you make in that precise moment.

Photo cred of us, I believe in 8th grade to either Chad Reese, Shawn O’Malley, Bob Cook or Donna Cook 😊!!

#AHwrestlingfamily NEPA thankstothe”team” AHcommunity

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timelxrd-victorious · 6 years

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The Vortex Diaries || Lives Among the Dead

“Reminder: The Library has been breached. Others are coming,” the node said in a male voice as the Doctor and xir companion Donna Noble eyed the doorway to the room they were currently in. “Reminder: The Library has been breached. Others are coming.”

The door burst open (or blew up) in a flash of white light. The Doctor’s eyes could pick up more details about the six newcomers that stepped through than Donna’s: Gallifreyan eyes were incredibly precise and could see into the ultraviolet spectrum. Xe could see that all six of them were wearing spacesuits, the hoods tinted dark. But beyond that…

One of the spacesuited intruders—presumably the leader—strode ahead of the others and walked right up to the Doctor and Donna. Seconds later the polarizing filter was adjusted, allowing the two of them to see her face. Middle-aged, Caucasian, female. Presumably human or humanoid.

She smiled, her gaze fixed only on the Doctor. “Hello, sweetie.”

Xe frowned, reached out with xir time senses. The Doctor knew xe had never seen her before in any previous incarnation and… odd. There was something off about her, something… Ah, well, it didn’t matter.

“Get out,” the Doctor snapped.

“Doctor,” Donna protested quietly.

Xe ignored her and eyed the other members of the strange woman’s team. “All of you. Turn around, get back in your rocket and fly away. Tell your grandchildren you came to the Library and lived. They won’t believe you.”

“Pop your helmets, everyone. We've got breathers,” the woman said instead. For the next few seconds there were hisses as the team released the latches that kept their helmets in place and took them off.

“How do you know they're not androids?” a dark-skinned woman asked.

“Because I’ve dated androids. They’re rubbish.”

“Who is this?” a balding man in what appeared to be his late forties demanded once he caught sight of the Doctor and Donna. He turned to the bushy-haired team leader. “You said we were the only expedition. I paid for exclusives.”

“I lied,” she said, “I’m always lying. Bound to be others.”

“Miss Evangelista, I want to see the contracts,” the older human said.

The bushy-haired woman’s attention was still on the Doctor and Donna. “You came through the north door, yeah? How was that, much damage?”

“Please, just leave,” xe said. “I'm asking you seriously and properly, just leave.” Xe paused as something suddenly clicked. “Hang on. Did you say expedition?”

“My expedition,” said the middle-aged man. “I funded it.”

Xe frowned. “Oh, you're not, are you? Tell me you're not archaeologists.”

“Got a problem with archaeologists?”

Xe looked at the female leader in exasperation. “I'm a time traveler. I point and laugh at archaeologists.” Xe wasn’t just a time traveler, of course, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Ah.” She smiled and held out her hand. “Professor River Song, archaeologist.”

Xe shook her offered hand, just to be polite. “River Song, lovely name.” Good, now try to get her to leave. “As you're leaving, and you're leaving now, you need to set up a quarantine beacon. Code wall the planet, the whole planet. Nobody comes here, not ever again. Not one living thing, not here, not ever. Stop right there. What's your name?”

“Anita,” a confused darker-skinned woman replied.

“Anita, stay out of the shadows. Not a foot, not a finger in the shadows till you're safely back in your ship. Goes for all of you. Stay in the light. Find a nice, bright spot and just stand. If you understand me, look very, very scared.”

None of them looked very frightened.

“No, bit more scared than that.”

That just got xem a pout and puppy-dog eyes from Miss Evangelista, the presumably pretty brunette with makeup. To be sure, xe brushed lightly against their minds and then withdrew. “Okay, do for now.” Xir gaze shifted to another male on the team. “You. Who are you?”

“Er, Dave.”

“Okay, Dave.”

“Oh, well, Other Dave,” he quickly explained, rambling, “because that’s Proper Dave the pilot, he was the first Dave, so when we—”

The Doctor ignored his babbling and, gripping his arm, led him over to the hallway. “Other Dave, the way you came, does it look the same as before?”

“Yeah. Oh, it's a bit darker.”

“How much darker?”

“Oh, like I could see where we came through just like a moment ago. I can’t now.”

“Seal up this door,” the Doctor ordered. “We'll find another way out.”

Xe turned to join the rest of the team. A few minutes later, during which both xe and Donna had torn up contracts and xe talked about the Vashta Nerada and formed a plan, xe heard River barking out orders.

“Pretty boy, you’re with me. Step into my office.”

Xe ignored her, intent on studying the shadows —and making sure xir own was able to pass for humanoid. Satisfied, xe went over to help Dave with the terminal console.

“Pretty boy. With me, I said.” River sounded slightly irritated now, but xe couldn’t figure out why.

Then it clicked. “Ooh.” Xe turned, pointing a finger at xir chest. “I’m pretty boy?”

“Yes!” Donna caught herself, looked surprised at what she’d just admitted. “Ooh, that came out a bit quick.”

“Pretty?”

Donna shrugged. “Meh.”

The Doctor copied her motion and walked over to River Song. As xe neared her, xe noticed she was taking out what looked like a battered blue diary from her backpack. The cover had eight squares on it, and the shade of blue reminded xem of the TARDIS. “Thanks,” she said.

Xe frowned, confused. “What for?”

“The usual. For coming when I call.”

“Oh, that was you?”

“You’re doing a very good job, acting like you don’t know me. I’m assuming there’s a reason.”

“A fairly good one, actually.”

“Okay, shall we do diaries, then?” River asked, reaching for the book and beginning to flip through its pages. “Where are we this time? Er, going by your face, I'd say it's early days for you, yeah? So, er, crash of the Byzantium. Have we done that yet?” At xir blank look, she added, “Obviously ringing no bells. Right. Oh, picnic at Asgard. Have we done Asgard yet?” Another blank look. “Obviously not. Blimey, very early days, then. Whoo, life with a time traveller. Never knew it could be such hard work.”

She stopped suddenly, looked deep into xir eyes, xir face. “Look at you. Oh, you're young.”

Annoyance glinted in xir eyes. “I’m really not, you know.” I’m over 6,500 years old.

“No, but you are,” River insisted. “Your eyes. You’re younger than I’ve ever seen you.”

At last, she’d let something slip. Even so, xir eyebrows narrowed. “You've seen me before, then?”

River placed a hand on xir cheek. Xe was still fuzzy at reading human facial expressions, but she seemed… sad, upset. “Doctor, please tell me you know who I am.”

Xe couldn’t. Cool, questioning brown eyes looked into hers. “Who are you?”

Their conversation was broken by what sounded like a ringing phone, and the Doctor pushed the mystery of River Song to the back of xir mind.

“That was, that was horrible,” Donna said, her voice shaking as she stared at what remained of Miss Evangelista’s body—a skeleton inside a suit. “That was the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen.”

The Doctor knew xe should comfort xir companion, but Professor River Song spoke first: “No. It’s just a freak of technology. But whatever did this to her, whatever killed her, I’d a word with that.”

Xe said nothing, then: “I’ll introduce you.”

Back in the main room, xe crouched down in front of a cluster of shadows. “I’m going to need a packed lunch.”

“Hang on,” River said, moving over to her bag and starting to rummage through it. Xe stood, and xir gaze followed her.

“What’s in that book?” the Doctor asked.

“Spoilers.”

“Who are you?”

“Professor River Song. University of—” She definitely seemed cagey now.

“To me,” xe finished, cutting her off. “Who are you to me?”

“Again, spoilers.” Irritation flashed through xem, but xe shoved it aside as she handed xem a tin box. “Chicken and a bit of salad. Knock yourself out.”

Xe took the box in one hand and a torch in the other. “Right, you lot.” Xe tossed the flashlight into the air, caught it as it spun without looking. “Let’s all meet the Vashta Nerada.”

While the Doctor was searching the shadows for Vashta Nerada, his redheaded companion went over to River.

“You travel with him, don’t you?” the bushy-haired archaeologist asked. “The Doctor, you travel with him.”

“What of it?”

River paused, heard the Doctor asking Proper Dave to move over by the water cooler before answering.

“You know him, don’t you?” Donna fired off another question before River could answer her first.

“Oh God, do I know that man.” River couldn’t keep the wistful note from her voice. “We go way back, that man and me. Just not this far back.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“He hasn't met me yet. I sent him a message, but it went wrong. It arrived too early. This is the Doctor in the days before he knew me. And he looks at me, he looks right through me and it shouldn’t kill me, but it does.”

“What are you talking about? Are you just talking rubbish?” Donna hissed. “Do you know him, or don’t you?”

Then her gaze flicked over to the Doctor, and she stiffened. “He said to count the shadows, yeah?”

River frowned slightly. “Yes. Why?”

Donna tilted her head in the direction of the Doctor’s shadow. “Did you ever notice that when you traveled with him?”

River’s frown deepened in confusion, but she turned her gaze on the Doctor’s shadow… and blinked in surprise. For a moment it looked as though there was something else in his shadow—not another shadow altogether, but another arm… or maybe a tentacle? Another tentacle shadow joined the first.

Both women blinked, and the extra limbs were gone.

“What the hell?” River muttered.

Donna glanced at her. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Donna! Quiet!” the Doctor snapped. “I’m working.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Something clicked in River’s brain. “Donna. You’re Donna. Donna Noble.”

“Yeah.” Donna suddenly sounded suspicious. “Why?”

River decided to tell her the truth—or part of the truth, anyway. “I do know the Doctor, but in the future. His personal future.”

“So why don’t you know me? Where am I in the future?”

It was a reasonable question and one River would have asked herself if she’d been in Donna’s position.

“Okay, got a live one!” The Doctor’s voice cut into River and Donna’s conversation, and River forced herself to focus on the Vashta Nerada… and what was up with the Doctor’s shadow.

She’d never noticed the invisible extra limbs when she’d traveled with his future incarnation. Right now, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know if they’d always been there—and if her Doctor had been keeping far too many secrets from her.

The Doctor’s keen sense of hearing—far better than that of humans—had easily been able to pick up Donna and River’s conversation about xem. Xe bit back the familiar flash of irritation that occurred whenever someone referred to xem as a man or with male pronouns. I’m not a man! xe wanted to snap. I’m not even human. How long does it take to get that through your thick skulls?

Xe allowed xemself a short hiss of annoyance, felt timelines shimmer and possibilities shift. Then xe made a quick note to take better care of xir appearance—xe had to appear fully humanoid—and not long after xe was explaining to the remaining crew and Donna about the Vashta Nerada after tossing the chicken leg into the live swarm and seeing it reduced to bone within milliseconds.

“So what do we do?” River asked.

The Doctor tilted xir head as xe considered her question. “Daleks, aim for the eyestalk. Sontarans, back of the neck. Vashta Nerada…” Xe turned, looked up at her. “Run. Just run.”

“Run? Run where?”

Xe said something about exit teleports, Donna mentioned the little shop, and Proper Dave started to head towards the little shop when the Doctor noticed something off and said something that made everyone else’s blood in the room run cold:

“I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry—but you’ve got two shadows.”

“So, what’s the plan?” River asked. “Do we have a plan?”

“Your screwdriver looks exactly like mine.” Xe eyed her with suspicion.

“Yeah. You gave it to me.”

“I don’t give my screwdriver to anyone.”

“I’m not anyone.”

“Who are you?”

River didn’t respond.

“Donna Noble has left the library. Donna Noble has been saved.”

River cut a square hole in the wall with her gun and nearly fell through the hole with the Doctor close behind her. “OK, we've got a clear spot. In, in, in! Right in the centre. In the middle of the light, quickly. Don't let your shadows cross. Doctor.”

“I’m doing it.” Xe couldn’t help it if xe sounded testy. Xir annoyance and frustration was beginning to boil over—if this expedition team hadn’t stepped foot in the Library, it would have just been xem and Donna and there would have been far less casualties.

“There's no lights here. Sunset's coming. We can’t stay long. Have you found a live one?”

“Maybe. It's getting harder to tell. What’s wrong with you?” xe asked xir sonic screwdriver.

“We’re going to need a chicken leg. Who’s got a chicken leg?” The remaining Dave handed the professor a chicken leg. “Thanks, Dave.”

She tossed the chicken into the shadows; like before, it became bone before it hit the ground.

“Okay. Okay, we’ve got a hot one. Watch your feet.” River began moving in a slow semi-circle.

“They won’t attack until there’s enough of them. But they've got our scent now. They’re coming,” the Doctor informed what was left of the team.

“Oh, yeah,” Other Dave said sarcastically. Then, in an undertone to River: “Who is he? You haven’t even told us. You just expect us to trust him?”

“He’s the Doctor,” River replied.

“And who is the Doctor?” Lux demanded.

“The only story you’ll ever tell, if you survive him.”

“You say he’s your friend,” Anita said, “but he doesn’t even know who you are.”

“Listen, all you need to know is this: I’d trust that man to the end of the universe. And actually, we’ve been.”

“He doesn’t act as though he trusts you,” Anita muttered to River.

“Yeah, there’s a tiny problem,” the archaeologist hissed in an undertone. “He hasn’t met me yet.”

The Doctor paused in scanning the shadows, whipped xir head around to face the small group. “I’m not a man,” xe snapped, xir gaze focusing on River. “And I’ve been to the end of the universe. You weren’t there.”

Even though River had admitted that their timelines were out-of-sync, she still looked shocked—or so the Doctor thought, anyway. Even now, after all this time, xe still had trouble determining human expressions—sight was a secondary sense for xem; humans’ telepathic abilities were practically non-existent.

Lux, Anita, and Other Dave blinked. “So… are you a woman, then?” Lux asked.

“No,” the Doctor said coolly and turned away, focusing again on scanning the shadows for Vashta Nerada.

River stepped up next to xem. “What’s wrong with it?”

“There’s a signal coming from somewhere, interfering with it.” Xe adjusted the settings on xir screwdriver, couldn’t help but extend xir time senses and seek out all the possible outcomes of this conversation.

“Then use the red settings,” River suggested.

Xe looked at her with a mixture of incredulity and what are you talking about? “It doesn’t have a red setting.”

“Well, use the dampers.”

“It doesn’t have dampers.”

She held up a bronze-colored sonic screwdriver. “It will do one day.”

Xe stared at her screwdriver before taking it and eyeing her suspiciously. “So, sometime in the future, I just give you my screwdriver.”

“Yeah.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I didn’t pluck it from your cold, dead hands if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“And I know that because?”

“Listen to me,” River insisted. “You’ve lost your friend. You’re angry. I understand. But you need to be less emotional, Doctor, right now.”

Xe stared at her in bewilderment. “Less emotional? I’m not emotional! And I’m not angry, I’m annoyed.”

River ignored that. “There are five people in this room still alive. Focus on that. Dear God, you’re hard work young.”

Xir annoyance spilled over in an irritated snarl that reverberated throughout time. “Young? Who are you?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Lux snapped. “Look at the pair of you. We're all going to die right here, and you're just squabbling like an old married couple.”

The Doctor looked at River in surprise, then back at Lux. Annoyance was beginning to spill over into anger—and xe was at the edge of xir limit with maintaining xir humanoid appearance. “Married? I don’t even know her!”

Xir multidimensional limbs—tentacles—twitched, stirred; xir shadow morphed, became less humanoid and bipedal. Xe was distantly aware of horrified gasps as the team noticed the changes to xir shadow, but the Doctor didn’t care.

“Doctor,” River said, “one day I’m going to be someone that you trust completely, but I can’t wait for you to find that out. So I’m going to prove it to you. And I’m sorry. I’m really very sorry.”

“So am I.” Not really. Xir voice and eyes were cold as xe brought xir hands up to her temples. Before River could react or comprehend what xe was doing, xe pushed inside her mind.

Xir mind was a howling, gaping void—too much, too vast, alien. River winced, gasped in pain as xe stripped her very flimsy mental defenses bare.

“Y-you’re in my mind,” she gasped out. “Doctor, it-it hurts.”

“Good.” Xe was beyond caring if xe hurt her or not. All that mattered was finding out the information xe wanted.

When xe finally broke the connection, River stared at xem with wide, frightened eyes. “What are you? You’re—you’re not—”

“No. I’m not. You’d do well to remember it.” Xe stepped away from her, turned to face the rest of the team even as River snatched back her sonic screwdriver from xem.

“What the hell was that?!” Lux demanded.

The Doctor didn’t respond. Instead xe went on about xir screwdriver and how it was very difficult to interfere with it. Somewhere between the resulting conversation and catching a glimpse of Donna, Anita informed them she had two shadows.

Then zombie Dave caught up to them, and what remained of the group ran for it.

While attempting to talk to the swarm, Other Dave became a zombie as well.

Just as well, really.

The Vashta Nerada were doing the Doctor’s job for xem.

Night had fallen, and River and what remained of her team were in yet another round reading room. Professor Song was busy checking the shadows with her sonic.

“You know,” she said almost to herself, “it’s funny. I keep wishing the Doctor was here.”

“The Doctor is here, isn’t he?” Anita asked. “He is coming back, right?”

River swallowed before looking over at Anita, still shaken by the experience of having the Doctor rummaging around inside her head without consent. He’d said he wasn’t a man but she didn’t know what else to call him—it. Whatever. But what had been inside her mind… She suppressed a shudder.

The Doctor wasn’t human, had never been human—she’d known that, but somehow she hadn’t realized just how inhuman he actually was. His mind—and she still couldn’t stop thinking about him in male pronouns—had been so dark, ancient… a howling void that she could have lost herself in if she’d had any desire to step inside (which she hadn’t). Then there was the Doctor’s shadow shifting shape… becoming less bipedal before rearranging itself back into a human form…

“You know when you see a photograph of someone you know, but it's from years before you knew them. and it’s like they’re not quite finished,” River said to Anita. It was the closest analogy she could think of to what she was feeling. “They’re not done yet. Well, yes, the Doctor’s here. He came when I called, just like he always does. But not my Doctor. Now my Doctor, I’ve seen whole armies turn and run away. And he’d just swagger off back to his TARDIS and open the doors with a snap of his fingers. The Doctor in the TARDIS. Next stop, everywhere.”

“Spoilers.” The Doctor’s hard tone ringing out in the silence had both River and Anita jumping in surprise.

The Time Lord slid down the short staircase and hopped over a desk to stand in front of River. “Nobody can open a TARDIS by snapping their fingers. It doesn't work like that.”

“It does for the Doctor.”

Xe had walked past her and turned back as xe snarled, “I am the Doctor.”

River avoided xir gaze. “Yeah. Someday.”

Xe only scoffed and moved on.

“Mister Lux, with me. Anita, if he dies, I'll kill him!”

“What about the Vashta Nerada?” Anita asked once River and Mr. Lux had left.

“These are their forests. I’m going to seal Charlotte inside her little world, take everybody else away. The shadows can swarm to their hearts’ content.”

“So you think they’re just going to let us go?”

“Best offer they're going to get.”

“You’re going to make ’em an offer?”

“They’d better take it, because right now, I’m finding it very hard to make any kind of offer at all. You know what? I really liked Anita. She was brave, even when she was crying. And she never gave in. And you ate her.”

Xe cleared her visor, revealed the skull that had slumped against the clear material.

“But I’m going to let that pass, just as long as you let them pass.”

“How long have you known?”

“I counted the shadows. You only have one now. She’s nearly gone. Be kind.”

“These are our forests. We are not kind.”

“I’m giving you back your forests, but you are giving me them. You are letting them go.”

“These are our forests. They are our meat.”

Shadows stretched out from Vashta Nerada Anita towards the Doctor.

Xe whirled around, xir voice a low growl: “Don’t play games with me. You just killed someone I liked. That is not a safe place to stand. I’m the Doctor, and you’re in the biggest library in the universe.” Xe paused. “Look me up.”

Xir hold over xir third-dimensional form loosened, let xir other traits—that of xir true appearance—come free. Xe was tired of being and acting human, and now there were no other humans around.

Xir form rippled, shifted—a glitch in reality. Tentacles and things that should not be on a human body became visible only for a moment, then disappeared.

The shadows withdrew rapidly, stayed long enough to deliver the message (“You have one day.”) and then vanished.

River Song died less than an hour later.

Donna Noble returned, but it made no difference—the Doctor could see that xe would have to make her forget within months.

It wasn’t really xir fault.

Even if the Vashta Nerada hadn’t been there, xe would have had no other choice.

#time traveling archaeologist ( River Song )#the most important woman in all of creation ( Donna Noble )#The Vortex Diaries ( Writing. )

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