#and the number of people who would be mindful of travel logistics and everyones comfort is. surprisingly high! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hillnerd · 4 years

Text

Waking Up - Chapter 3

Rating M A03 ff.net [previous chapter] [start at the beginning] chapter length: 14,438 Huge thanks to @abradystrix @amysthefardareismai for wonderful beta-ing- truly y’all are the best. And thank you to the people who have read this, and especially those who reviewed- I appreciate you so very much.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: NSFW scene, cursing, depresssed/anxious thinking, talk about eating & weight gain/loss, PTSD, brief mentions of substance abuse

CHAPTER 3- logistics

A breeze was gently rustling the trees and the dappled midmorning light shone merrily through the bedroom window. Hermione inwardly cursed. There was something appalling about a lovely day when her mood was bleak and her whole body felt stiff. Hermione rubbed at her neck and cringed as a beam of sunlight hit her right in the eye.

She’d put off planning to retrieve her parents for three weeks, but she couldn’t in good conscience keep it up. She had to accomplish something, even if it was only a tiny milestone. She’d set herself up in her camp bed, a number of papers around her as she scribbled maths and tried to mark out a plan.

Portkey. Taxi. Hotel. Food. Yellow pages. Government records. Private investigator.

Before the hunt for Horcruxes she’d envisioned immediately flying to her parents and undoing the memory modifications she’d placed on them. The three of them would fall into a heap crying over each other and all would be well.

Now she could no longer fool herself into believing such idealistic outcomes. The reality was too grim.

She’d purposefully made it difficult for anyone magical to find her parents, but now she had no clue where in Australia they’d gone or how she’d retrieve them. At the time she didn’t want to know their location; what she didn’t know couldn’t be tortured out of her, but this left the task of hunting them down as daunting as the Horcrux hunt. She’d made her parents untraceable by owl, ‘Point Me’ and a variety of other locating spells and potions.

She’d need to use Muggle means: searching travel documents and yellow pages for dentist offices, possibly making inquiries with the government to find them. She might need to use a private eye. None of that would be easy to access, especially all the way in Australia.

What’s more - it would cost money; money that Hermione did not have. Her parents had loads of money put aside for her education, but all of it was in her parents’ name — so it was all somewhere in Australia with them.

She only had fifty pounds and a pile of books to her name, not enough to buy proper groceries for the Weasley family, let alone fly herself across the world to search for her parents. Portkey fare, hotel, food… It was all going to cost so much. How would she possibly manage this? Get a job to save up the money to travel there? Who would hire someone who didn’t even have N.E.W.T.s, or a diploma (Muggle or otherwise.) She could forge a Muggle one, but it felt wrong somehow to pretend she had an education she hadn’t earned. Perhaps she could camp instead of stay in a hotel? The thought of camping again made her hands begin to shake. No. She’d have to save for a hotel.

The only equity she had was their family home. There was no way she could liquidate that asset and turn it into cash. She could perhaps rent the house out, now that the war was over— but that would waste precious time to try to find a trustworthy tenant. And who would want a suburban house for only a few weeks? The more she thought on it, the more outlandish her ideas became:

Sell all the things she owned? Ask Harry for a loan? Sell her story to the Prophet for money?

Her mind trickled like treacle. All her pointed motivation and smarts she’d had in spades before the war felt scooped clean out of her, as sure as Ron’s splinched shoulder. She’d become blightedly useless.

Others were working to re-establish the government, or rebuild Hogwarts, or volunteering to help orphans. Ron was stepping in to take care of his mother and the household. Everyone else was able to find a way to be of use, with perhaps the exception of George — but he had a real excuse didn’t he? He was in deep mourning.

What was Hermione mourning? Sure, she’d lost friends and people she cared about, but that wasn’t the same. She had no excuse to be so tired all the time, her brain so sluggish and unresponsive. Even with the locket around her neck she’d been brighter than this, had more fight and more solutions than this. Her presence at the Burrow was so pointless.

She only had a few months to find her parents, and was wasting what time she had left.

McGonagall, now headmistress of Hogwarts, had written to say she and the boys were welcome to finish their final year there. For a moment she had been pleased. She’d be able to have a full and proper education after all! She had something she could work on! But it wasn’t for months, and now it narrowed her timeline.

She had a proverbial ticking clock, and what was she doing? She was contributing nothing, comforting no one, napping multiple times a day, leeching off the Weasleys, burdening them with her despondent moods; all when she should already be in Australia fixing the problems she’d caused!

In disgust, she shoved the papers to the ground, put a silencing spell on herself and laid down to nap. She’d almost nodded off when she was awoken with a knock and the sound of someone saying her name.

She gave a start to see Harry standing in the doorway looking at her expectantly.

“Sorry,” he said with a forced smile. “I knocked, but you didn’t respond.”

Hermione moved her lips to answer him but no sound came out. Damn, she’d forgotten about her silencing charms. With a wave of her wand the spell was broken.

“I’m fine, thank you. Is breakfast ready?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her and carefully sat himself on Ginny’s bed. He was looking pink-cheeked and his hair was even more of a mess than usual, no doubt Ginny’s doing. The carefree appearance was a stark contrast to the look of concern on his face.

“Why did you have a silencing spell on yourself?”

“It’s nothing, Harry,” she primly answered, leaning down to gather the parchment from the ground. She tapped the sides of the parchment against her thigh to evenly align them. The last thing she wanted was him seeing how disparate her notes were.

Harry continued to stare at her, discernment wrinkling his brow. “Does Ron know about this?”

“About what?” she snapped, holding the papers close to her chest.

“That you’re putting silencing spells on yourself when you sleep.”

“It’s only temporary.” She stopped her tidying. “No one else needs to know about it.”

Harry made a face at that and his gaze became even more grim.

“You shouldn’t keep this from him. He’ll find out eventually.” She gave a deep huff at his presumption. “Why are you doing it anyways?”

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” Hermione bit out, putting her papers on the bedside table and making her bed, spending far more time than necessary giving it hospital corners so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye.

“So are you… yelling from nightmares or something?”

Hermione looked at her hands spread across the corner of the bed. “Yes, something like that…”

“Have you tried dreamless sleep potion?”

“You can get addicted to it far too easily.”

“Yeah, well… it works doesn’t it?”

Hermione turned to look Harry over. He didn’t have the deep bags under his eyes that she or Ron had, and was refusing to look her in the eye.

“You’re not taking it every night are you? You’re not supposed to take it for more than three days in a row!” she admonished. “After three days you’re supposed to stop taking it or there’s a rebound effect and your dreams could become even more vivid, but you also have trouble falling asleep without it! That’s how you get addicted. You can take the potion again, but you have to—”

“Skip it for five days between. Yeah I know. I take cold medicine on the other nights.”

“Harry, you shouldn’t be self medicating like that.”

He gave one of his piercing glowers and rose from the bed. Now she’d done it. When he was feeling harangued and defensive he always obstinately lowered his head and glared from under his eyebrows. He had no idea how very intimidating that look could be.

“You really think it’s better to suffer through? To use a silencing charm so no one hears you?”

She ignored his jab and forged ahead. “Different potions combined could be dangerous.”

“I keep seeing all of you dead,” Harry quietly snarled. “Every single one of you. Or the snake attacking us, or Voldemort killing me, or you at the Manor getting tortured to madness, or Ginny getting killed by Bellatrix, or Ron splinched and bleeding to death.”

Hermione’s chin began to wobble.

“It doesn’t do any good to see it again and again!” he continued, voice suddenly escalating in volume. “It’s hard enough to ignore it all when I’m awake. There’s no fucking way I’m going to willfully think about the bleeding war when I’m sleeping! I’m tired of waking up feeling like I just survived a battle, or lost someone again! I- I just need to sleep... We went months without sleeping proper, and I’m fucking tired of it.”

Hermione felt tell-tale stinging in her eyes and she blinked furiously at them.

“I’m following the instructions for the potions! I don’t mix it with alcohol or other potions. I’m not stupid!”

“I never said you were!” she gasped.

“Well then maybe try not talking to me like I am. Should I be putting a silencing charm on myself like you do? Nap all day, scream all night? How’s that working out, Hermione?”

Hermione shook her head and the tears finally fell down her cheeks. She hated it when he talked to her like that. She’d never done well when people gave her a dressing down, especially when she was just trying to help. He was right, though. Nothing was working out. She didn’t know what she was doing. Everything was so impossible now that she’d never sort it out. She swiped at her lashes.

Harry gave a sigh; one she’d heard from him use thousands of times.

“Look,” he said in a much more gentle tone. “I’ll be extra careful. And— and I’ll try to wean myself off it all over the next month or so, okay?”

Hermione gave a stiff nod.

“I just came to let you know breakfast is on soon. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said putting a tentative hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she said roughly wiping at her eyes, shrugging off his hand. She didn’t care how upset he was, there was no call for him to jump on her like that. “But Harry… I meant it. I’d rather you not tell Ron about the silencing charm.”

Harry’s look of gentle concern seemed to harden.

“I don’t like lying to him.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, I’m just asking you not to go and tell him about this one thing.”

“If he asks, I’m telling him,” he stubbornly answered, a defiant tilt to his head making her want to smack him.

“I know you prefer Ron to me, but are you really incapable of keeping ONE secret for me?”

Harry gave a hurt look. “That’s not fair.”

“Well it’s not fair how your first concern wasn’t how I was doing, but rather if I’d told RON about this!” Hermione bit out, all patience gone. “For you he’ll always come first, and I understand that. I really do. I know I’m not the ‘fun friend’ or the one that makes you feel good. I know I’m the nag—”

“You’re not,” he feebly replied. They both knew that wasn’t true.

“I am. I know I am sometimes, but I was trying to help and you leapt down my throat for it!”

“I’m sorry for that...” he said, a look of true contrition on his face.

“It’s fine,” she sighed, though she didn’t feel it. She didn’t have it in her to try and keep up a fight with Harry. He had very few coping skills for his anger and trauma and they’d never gotten on very well when she was concerned about his well being. “But please — don’t say anything about the silencing charms to Ron? I didn’t want anyone to know, Harry, but I especially don’t want Ron getting worried about this. He has so much on his plate, and I just… Please.”

Harry quietly looked away, seemingly wrestling with it, before he finally nodded. Hermione’s whole body sagged with relief. She looked longingly to the camp bed she’d just made. How easy it would be to curl up on it and nap the rest of the day.

“What’s all this?” Harry asked, picking up her parchments from the side table.

“Nothing! It’s just scribblings!” she cried out, clawing the parchment right out of his hand.

He looked unconvinced. It was a pathetic excuse. She wasn’t even sure why she didn’t want anyone to know about her flimsy Australia plans. Perhaps it was because she didn’t have a clue on how to undo all the wrongs she had done.

If Ron had seen the papers he’d keep pushing her to tell him what was on the parchment, but Harry was never very relentless when it came to Hermione’s personal life. He never inquired about her mad schedules in third year, S.P.E.W., who she wrote to, or anything much about her life outside of Hogwarts.

Harry cared about her of course — the two of them loved one another very deeply and would do anything to protect one another — but there often was a lack of curiosity about her life from him. At times this would sting — she invested so much time and energy fretting over Harry and he put in a tenth the effort for her — but it also could prove rather convenient to have a friend who let you have your privacy. She could go about her business and not be questioned or stopped. It was much like with her parents. She had so much freedom to do what she liked without any interference, and definitely took advantage of it at every turn.

That was what was different about Ron. He was the one person who had absolute interest in her — not her brain, not her achievements, and not what she could do for him— her.

Ron knew just about everything about her, and paid her so much attention. It was like that even in their first year. Ron she could gab with for hours about everything in the world, and he’d avidly listen to her like no one ever had before. He genuinely cared about every little thing in her life. She’d go off about something, but instead of tuning her out how everyone else did, Ron sat and listened, engaged, argued, asked questions, added his thoughts on it, would have a real conversation with her.

When she was secretive he’d interfere with her plans, grill her to know what she was up to, and try to get into her head to follow her line of thinking. She’d never had anyone show her that much personal attention. It was so refreshing, was it any wonder she housed a soft spot for the lanky redhead?

As much as Harry ignored Hermione at times, he loved a good mystery. He stood frowning down at her papers a moment too long.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” said Hermione, hoping to distract Harry. Food didn’t work. He was starting to riffle through the papers! “Did Ron cook it this morning?”

She knew Ron was one topic that could thoroughly distract Harry.

“No, he didn’t,” said Harry looking at her, lowering the papers to his side. Yep, mentioning Ron worked every time. “Mrs Weasley cooked everything so I’m sure it’s a particularly good meal.”

“I’m sure that’ll be a relief for Ron,” said Hermione, going into the hallway. She could just sprinkle Ron’s name around like catnip for Crookshanks, coaxing him towards her and away from the papers. “Though I’m surprised he didn’t help her. He’s been doing that every morning.”

She had to suppress a triumphant grin when he set the papers down and followed her into the hallway.

“He’s not up yet.”

She looked at him with surprise. Ron had been up before everyone for weeks, always helping with breakfast and other chores around the house. Why would he suddenly be sleeping in? Even at Shell Cottage he’d been up before most of them. Had something happened in the night to exhaust him? Had he taken a potion to force himself to sleep? Was he avoiding her and her dark moods?

“He’s still sleeping?” she asked, hands nervously clutching her middle. It was a testament to how close they’d grown over the last year, because Harry eyed her hands and expression before giving a sympathetic smile.

“Hermione, it’s a good thing he’s sleeping in.”

She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, unconvinced.

“You know as well as I how little he’s been sleeping,” he continued. “He hasn’t slept in like this for almost a year.”

“Exactly! Why would that suddenly change?” She cringed at the hysterical edge already in her voice.

“Maybe some things are getting back to normal,” he said, giving her a small pat on the shoulder.

Hermione bit her lip and glanced up the stairs. Nothing had just ‘gone back to normal’ recently, and she didn’t see how Harry could be so nonchalant about it.

“Maybe I should wake him…”

“His mum asked me and Ginny not to. He’ll be grateful for the kip,” he said, poking her down the stairs.

“I should just check on him.”

“I already did. He was tucked up and snoring away minutes ago. He’s fine.”

Knowing he wouldn’t appreciate her continued worrying over something so trivial, she went to the living room to feed Crookshanks. The moment the cat’s kibble hit the bowl he padded over from behind a couch and wound his way around her legs.

She’d missed her wonderful cat when they’d been on the Horcrux Hunt, and he seemed to have missed her just as vehemently when they were finally reunited. That day he’d yowled and thrown himself at her stomach so hard she would have fallen over if Ron hadn’t caught her from behind. Pig had similarly cheeped and hooted for Ron, excitedly flying around his head until Ron snatched him from the air and petted the owl’s little puffed up chest. Harry’s face had fallen ever so slightly as he watched their reunions and looked away. Ron had caught her eye and the two of them did their best to keep the affection with their pets away from Harry a bit. He’d been devastated upon losing Hedwig. It wasn’t the same as all the people they’d lost, of course, but neither of them wanted to rub it in.

Crookshanks’s joy upon her return was short lived. After an hour or so of meowing and purring the cat’s resentment at being left for months came to the surface. He ignored Hermione, not deigning to so much as look at her for three days. He’d thankfully forgiven her since then.

“Well, at least one of my ginger boys is up.” She laughed as the large cat continued to purr and nearly tripped her with his vehement headbutts to her ankles. She gave his head a scratch before returning to the kitchen, feeling somewhat calmer.

Harry was putting glasses out on the table, Mrs Weasley was slicing tomatoes and tending to the streaky bacon, and Ginny stood at the stove looking a touch cross. She was flipping over eggs and cursing as yolk after yolk broke in the pan.

“I can do that,” Harry murmured, but Mrs Weasley answered for Ginny.

“She has to learn some time. She can’t keep leaving all the cooking to me or you boys.”

Ginny gave a crow of triumph as one egg’s yolk stayed intact, giving Hermione a grin.

“Ron coming down?” Ginny asked as she plated the deflated eggs.

“He’s still having a lie in, it seems…”

“And I don’t want you waking him,” said Mrs Weasley, giving a wave of her wand that filled the pitcher with pumpkin juice. “He’s barely sleeping, poor thing, and I’m glad for him to finally get some real rest!”

Wishing to help, but knowing she would be just as hopeless as Ginny at flipping eggs, Hermione began distractedly putting out plates and silverware for the table, as Harry took platters to the table.

Mr Weasley had already gone to work early that morning, and without Ron breakfast was a rather quiet affair.

Hermione half heartedly picked at her food. Her persistently tiny appetite hadn’t waxed over the weeks at the Burrow, much to Ron’s chagrin. She’d narrow her eyes in resentment every time he prodded her to eat a few more bites. He wasn’t here now, though. She had to admit she missed his prodding as she silently stared at her plate. Everyone had finished their eating well ahead of her, but she was still wrestling with her first egg and piece of toast.

“I was thinking,” said Ginny as she leaned across the table to a third helping of streaky bacon. “We should go out today.”

Hermione shuddered at the thought of leaving the Burrow.

“Go out?” Harry repeated, taking his and Ginny’s plates to the sink, where Mrs Weasley was doing the washing.

“Yes, out!” Ginny cried, giving a large grin.

“But we were just at Hogwarts yesterday…” Harry had a perplexed look on his face.

“I mean doing something that isn’t rebuilding after the war or chores. Anything. The village. Luna’s place. Quidditch. Diagon Alley— “

“You are not going to Diagon Alley, young lady!” Mrs Weasley interjected as she scrubbed a pan. Ginny bristled and flushed. “They’ve yet to round up all the criminals from this war, and not weeks ago Diagon Alley was a den of destruction and desperate destitutes.”

“Say that three times fast,” Ginny murmured under her breath, too low for her mum to hear. Harry and Hermione barely hid their smiles.

“Plus, you’re not seventeen yet!”

“Fine, Mum. No Diagon Alley,” she said in a congenial tone, belied by the angry set of her jaw. Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“So, besides the ‘din of D’s,’” she said with an agitated look towards her mother’s back, “where would you like to go?”

“I dunno… Whatever you like is fine,” Harry said with an aimless shrug. He looked as keen to go out as Hermione did.

“I say Luna’s then,” she said with an excited grin. “What about you Hermione?”

Hermione forced herself to smile and feign excitement. “Maybe the village? I’ve never been before. Ron mentioned the pub he’d call me from and a paper shop as well.”

“Well, they don’t have much as far as quills go, but you might find something you like there!” Ginny said, looking positively jovial.

“Maybe we should wait and see what Ron wants to do,” said Hermione, giving a look up the stairs.

“I won’t be surprised if he chooses to stay close to home,” said Ginny before adding sotto voce, “I think he worries about leaving Mum alone in the house for long. He’s not left the house except to check on George, and he’s been doing a lot around here, hasn’t he?”

“He has, yeah…” said Harry looking at his hands. “We’ll leave it to him then.”

Harry’s mouth tightened further and guilt was working its way onto his face. Ginny put a hand over his and gave it a squeeze. A loving look passed between them and Harry leaned in to kiss Ginny’s temple, prompting Hermione to look away.

She and Ron hadn’t quite figured out how to have little moments like that in front of others. After the ‘getting caught snogging by his mother’ debacle they’d been less inclined to touch one another, even innocently, around others. She couldn’t figure out why it was so hard; After all, the first time she snogged Ron they’d done it right in front of Harry! There was no reason they couldn’t be just as demonstrably in love with one another as Harry and Ginny! Well… maybe that was the problem.

Hermione certainly loved Ron, but wasn’t as certain he felt the same way. In every action she felt cherished… but he hadn’t said he loved her. Not truly. He’d said ‘I love you’ once in passing their sixth year while he was still dating Lavender. She’d replayed the moment in her mind for weeks, but there had been no repeat performance in real life.

She’d nearly said ‘I love you’ to him a few times, but always caught herself at the last moment.

The previous week his Mum had been crying because George had patently refused to come home. As his mother cried, Ron took over the half made meal. He’d overcooked the chicken a bit, and the gravy he’d attempted was watery, but he’d somehow managed to finish the meal in time for the family who came for dinner— all of them save George.

Afterwards they’d gone to the apple orchard and he sat beside Hermione stroking her hair, fretting about the meal and his mother. She looked at him from under her lashes, and a bit of sun hit his hair so perfectly it almost seemed to glow as if he were the source of the light, and not the setting sun behind him. He squinted with worry, and the words ‘I love you’ rang in her head so loudly she could barely keep them from spilling forth.

She wasn’t entirely certain what kept her from saying it. It was hard to imagine Ron rejecting her or reacting strangely to the revelation. He was so loving and patient with her, prodding her to eat food and checking in with her if she looked the least bit upset… But then Ron did that with everyone. That was just his way. He doted on Harry, his mother, and his siblings just as much as he did Hermione.

The passionate kisses they’d shared a few times left her breathless and in no doubt that he was attracted to her, but attraction was a very far distance from romantic love, was it not? He’d been able to snog Lavender for months while not showing particular regard for her romantically.

There were so many passionate and loving moments between them that seemed they HAD to be based in love. But a war, and all those adrenaline filled flashes of tension… Maybe it was just shared trauma they were mistaking for something more. Perhaps he was just mixing up the deep platonic love he felt for Hermione for romantic love, and hormones were making up the rest of the difference.

Everything felt so dissonant and uncertain, she didn’t want to deny herself the comfort of Ron by throwing in a declaration of love before she knew he felt the same way. There didn’t seem to be a mature rational way of discussing it with him to collect more intel, not that she could think of anyway. It felt every bit as daunting as breaking into the Ministry or Gringotts.

It was like one of those trust fall exercises her parents had to do at a work retreat. You had to fall backwards with your eyes closed and have faith everyone would catch you. She trusted Ron with her life, but wasn’t sure she could trust she’d fall back into his arms shouting ‘I love you’ and come out unscathed.

Hermione pushed her plate away, feeling too wane to eat more. The three of them helped Mrs Weasley clean up the kitchen, after which the matron claimed she had a headache and went to rest in her bedroom. They then shuffled about waiting for Ron, playing uninteresting games of chess, throwing a marble around for Crookshanks, and generally feeling a malaise only a Ronless few hours could create. When he still hadn’t made an appearance Hermione finally broke.

“I’m going to go get him.”

“How about I see if he’s still sleeping,” said Harry in an annoyingly calm tone. The glare she was about to give him lost its potency when she saw he looked every bit as impatient to get Ron as she.

“You two are a real mess when he’s gone,” Ginny commented fondly, finding a brush and sitting down with Crookshanks.

Harry and Hermione shared a glance that was more loaded than Ginny could know. They’d never told her about the time Ron had left the Horcrux hunt. In fact they’d never even discussed it with one another or Ron.

“Right, well, he’s just upstairs,” said Harry with a pointed look at Hermione before ascending the stairs. Ron hadn’t left them again. He was just sleeping in! The sudden feeling of panic and abandonment were completely unfounded. How ridiculous she was.

Ginny gave her a consoling look. Hermione managed a halfhearted shrug and sat with a groan beside her. She would brush her cat and try to suppress the growing unease.

A few minutes passed before Harry made his way downstairs, a tired looking Ron in tow. It took everything in her to not launch herself at him, whether to kiss him or demand answers she wasn’t sure.

“Ron says we should do quidditch today,” said Harry, sitting beside Ginny.

“I told him you were too lazy to walk over to Luna’s or the village!” said Ginny with a teasing smile, pushing a covered plate towards him that housed some breakfast.

Ron made a face and stiffly took a seat at the table, barely sparing Hermione a glance. Had she done something? Why wouldn’t he look at her?

“I’m never going to go to that house,” said Ron, tearing into the plate of food.

“But we’d get to see Luna!”

“Luna’s great,” he said before pointing a fork at Ginny, “but I’m not going to go over there.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not having glumpy tea with her lousy dad skulking about,” he said with a snort. “Don’t forget, the man tried to hand us over to Death Eaters.”

“Well he was in an impossible situation…” Hermione offered. Ron rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t impossible. You don’t turn people over to Death Eaters,” Ron said simply, taking a bite of sausage. Hermione wanted to argue the finer points of it, and could see the other two didn’t agree with Ron’s assessment either. Ron looked between them all before giving a sigh. “Look, if that old bleeder ever shows a whiff of remorse for it, I’ll be happy to let bygones be… but he could have gotten us all killed, so I’m not going to go over there and play polite waiting for an apology.”

“Fair enough,” Harry cut in before anyone could argue the point further. Ginny began to describe the progress made on the Lovegood’s home repairs, but Hermione only half listened. Instead she concentrated on Ron. Despite the extra sleep he was excessively pale, his freckles standing out like cinnamon on top of cream. The shadows under his eyes were pronounced, and he was unshaved.

Ron swallowed a mouthful of eggs before finally speaking to Hermione.

“Did you get enough to eat at breakfast?” he asked in an undertone.

Her stomach felt very full after her egg and toast, but she knew that wouldn’t be considered ‘eating enough’ for Ron. She hesitated to answer. He didn’t look her way, instead he sawed a piece of toast in two and began to spread egg on it, before cutting up some sausage and making a nice little half sandwich. She assumed he was back to ignoring her, and gave a start when he spoke again.

“Try and eat this?”

The half sandwich had been wrapped in a napkin and slid across the table to her. She took it, though she had no intention of eating it. If it weren’t a sandwich she’d press it in a journal, chalking it up to another sign that he cared about her, even when he was looking poorly.

“Well, let’s play some quidditch!” Ginny said with a broad smile. Hermione shook her head at how the girl could be so lighthearted after everything. She envied her, really. Harry was brooding and hurting after the war, and there was Ginny being light and warm for him, prompting smiles out of him, making him go out and do something fun. Hermione didn’t know how to do the same for Ron. She didn’t want to go out. She didn’t know how to tempt him into something that would lighten the load.

“Where’s Mum at? Does she need us to do anything before we go?” Ron asked, looking about.

“She went up to take a nap,” said Ginny, her tone gentler than it had been the whole morning. Ron quietly nodded and a sort of understanding seemed to pass between them because he suddenly put on a grin almost as broad as Ginny’s. Hermione could tell it was forced. His eyes didn’t crinkle up in that inviting way they did when he was genuinely happy, and his smile was always slightly lopsided when he was in genuine amusement, a hint of a dimple creasing his right cheek.

“Alright, get ready for me to kick your arse, Gin,” he crowed, throwing his sister wildly off balance with a hip check, before darting out the door.

“Fat chance! I’m going to throw a quaffle right through your teeth!” she cackled, chasing after him.

Harry smiled at Hermione before chasing after the two siblings. He had a spring in his step she hadn’t seen in well over a year, really. Weasleys had that effect on people. Even Ron’s forced smile could make Hermione feel lighter. She knew something was off with him, but with the sun shining across his hair as he laughed, she could pretend he was alright for the time being. She was a bit irked, though, that he’d barely interacted with her except to criticize how little she’d eaten.

Having no urge to be on a broomstick, she darted up the stairs to get her notes regarding her parents, as well as some books she’d pretend she was reading, should someone wonder what she was doing. When she approached the quidditch field the other three were in the air tossing the quaffle about, large grins on all of their flushed faces. It was rare she wished she was good at flying, but when she saw how carefree they all looked she couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy prickle at her. How could they all be so filled with happiness and able to just enjoy things again? She transfigured a clump of dead leaves into a blanket and sat herself next to an apple tree, taking her books and parchment out from her book bag.

As they played, darting through the air with practiced ease, she scribbled away at her papers trying to come up with a cohesive plan to get her parents back. After well over an hour the best she could manage was ‘find a Muggle library to do some research.’ She’d listed off a number of topics to research when she got there, as well as possible contacts she could use when a shadow fell over her.

She looked up to see Ron, ruddy from exertion and the sun on his ginger complexion. There was a good bit of sweat staining its way through his thin t-shirt. Him all sweaty and panting should have been mildly disgusting, but her mind was more agreeably occupied by how the shirt clung to him, and emphasized how much broader his chest and shoulders had become. She let out a sharp breath as he lifted the shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. Did he have any idea what he did to her? She was on edge enough! She didn’t need him enticing her to jump him and snog his face off in front of Harry and Ginny.

“We’re packing it in,” he said with a guileless smile at her. No, she was fairly certain he had no idea she wanted to tear his shirt off of him. He inspected the ground below him for pebbles and twigs before he placed his broom then sat to her left with a groan. This gave her just enough time to quickly stow her parchment in a book.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked, eyes trailing over the wet hair at the nape of his neck, just teasing the top of his collar.

“Probably would have if Ginny wasn’t flying like a bloody Hungarian horntail. She was going all out. My fingers are still numb from it!” he laughed holding up one of his large long-fingered hands. “I don’t think I have the same callouses as I did last time we scrimmaged either.”

“Hmmm…” said Hermione putting her much smaller hand in his. She loved his hands. They were always so expressive, warm and strong. She took her other hand and gently inspected his fingers. There still remained a few swirling silvery scars from when the brains had attacked him in fifth year, and a few short scars on his hands he’d picked up over the years. She hoped none of them were from the time she’d attacked him with birds in a jealous rage. Her fingers ghosted over the ruddy knuckles, down the long digits, to his too-short fingernails, finally stopping at his calloused thumb and finger tips. “They’re definitely rougher than mine.”

“Ah, well let’s take a look,” he said, bringing her hand under his nose for a closer inspection. She felt a thrill building within her as he glided a finger down a line on her palm, and hoped he didn’t mind the ink stains. “Hmm… According to my deep knowledge of palmistry this line right here indicates that you read and write too much for your own good…”

His finger went further down her hand trailing along the inside of her wrist so gently a pleasurable shudder passed through her. “And this line means you’re highly passionate about house elves.”

“Oh it does not!” she laughed in mock indignation.

“Excuuuse me. Between the two of us, who dropped out of divination, and who took it for three years?”

“You failed to get an O in it, if I recall.”

“That was due to the bias of the geezer testing me, and not because of my excellent palmistry skills,” he said with a sardonic twinkle in his eyes. “Do you want me to continue?”

She nodded her acquiescence, and his finger went back to her palm.

“Let’s see now… strong double head-line means you’re highly intelligent and kind. But it’s straight so you’re stubborn as all hell…”

A snort escaped her mouth.

“These short little lines on your lifeline show you’ve had some times of danger, but it seems to be nice and trouble free further down and these little lines along your wrist mean you’re gonna be prosperous— Looks like you can retire well then! And then your love line…” His voice tapered off.

“What about my love line?” She didn’t look at her palm as his finger caressed her. She studied his freckled face, which was quickly turning a deep shade of crimson.

“Erm, it’s… it’s good,” he stammered. “It’s— the little swoopy bit here ends on the mount of… Neptune? No, Jupiter! That means you’re honest and- and love deeply…”

“Does it say anything about if I’ll be loved as well?”

“You’re loved,” he said with certainty. He nodded his head and poked the side of her hand. “Got a strong marriage line and everything! I remember all the girls giggling over that one in divination.”

“Oh…” Disappointment bloomed within her. For a bit she thought he’d been trying to tell her something. He’d just been remembering old divination rubbish.

“To sum up, you’ve got a case of reader’s hands,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips for a short kiss. “All except your thumb and index finger, that are calloused from gripping quills too tight.”

“Hmm…”

“So what were you up to while I got my arse kicked round the pitch?” he said with a nod at the book beside her.

“Looking at some of the rune translations I did on the Horcrux hunt,” she lied, quickly pushing her book with the Australia plans away from her.

“Why would you be doing that?”

She should have known better than to bring them out with Ron around. He’d winkle the truth out of her rather quickly if she let him.

“Well…” she scrambled, “I wanted to see if I did them right, now that I have a clear head and time.”

“I guess…” he said, looking at her sceptically. “You doing alright?”

“I have a bit of a headache,” she lied again. Well it wasn’t a complete lie, but once you’d had a headache for two months straight you stopped counting it as something significant.

“I can get you some potion for that, if you like,” he said, searching her face. “Or maybe some water? How about I get you some water and a good size lunch. You didn’t eat much at breakfast and— ”

“Yes, you’ve said,” she snapped, before grabbing the rest of her items, haphazardly holding them in her arms. To avoid his eye she stared down at the blanket. She hadn’t done the best job transfiguring it, for it was already losing its shape along the edges and turning a mottled brown color. From the corner of her eyes she could see him rising from the ground. Shoulders tense, his body squared itself at her. That stance always portended an argument, but was cut off by Ginny calling to him.

“I’m going to make lunch! Can you help Harry put away the brooms?”

“Sorted!” he called back, before looking at Hermione. He lowered his head, blue eyes piercing her like a hot iron. “What’s going on? You’re acting off.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to be bothered about food and treated like a child!”

His coppery eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Oh don’t look so surprised! You’ve been on me every day about food and I’m quite sick of it.”

“That’s only because you’re so thin! You’ve probably lost two stone or more over the last year, and you weren’t carrying around much extra to begin with.”

“You think I don’t know that? I don’t need you badgering and prodding me about it constantly, Ron!”

“Well that’s a bit hypocritical,” he said with a churlish look. “You’ve badgered and nagged about plenty of things over the years, many a lot less important than—” His words halted and he let out a deep sigh.

“You know what? I don’t have the energy for all this,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Sleeping in all morning and playing games really took it out of you, did it?” she bit out. She knew she sounded petulant. She knew she had aimed an unfair dig, but she didn’t much care in the moment.

His jaw clenched and he loomed over her, tall as an oak tree. Hermione stood her ground, lifting her chin to glare back at him. He looked as if he had a retort, but bit it back. He took a deep breath before saying anything.

“I know something’s off with you, and when you’re ready to tell me what it is, I’ll listen,” he said, his voice so low it was barely a breath, “but I won’t take shit I don’t deserve. And I don’t care if it drives you mad, I’m going to nag and poke and make you eat some goddamned food. If I have to get a funnel and force feed you like a sick chicken every day, I will.”

She gasped as his audacity. “How dare you talk to —”

“No! I’m done with, with whatever this was!” he said with a dismissive gesture at her before grabbing his broom and storming towards the broom shed. She couldn’t help the bit of panic skittering up her spine as he walked away from her, but calmed as she saw him make a beeline for Harry, broom in hand. He wasn’t apparating away. There weren’t wards keeping him from her. He wasn’t captured and there wasn’t a locket. It was just her he wanted to be rid of...

Books and papers held tightly to her chest, she marched towards the house. She let out a frustrated yell and tried to kick a stick in anger. She spectacularly missed and ended up dropping everything in her hands, the breeze blowing her few notes away from her.

“Oh bloody brilliant!” she cursed under breath, chasing them down. Far too late in the pursuit she realized she’d dropped her wand by her books, and going back to get it might make her lose her notes for good. One piece of paper was thankfully stopped by a bit of overgrown grass, but the other kept blowing away, just out of reach every time she stooped to pick it up. The parchment finally hooked itself on the bottommost branch of an overgrown shrub. She was crawling on her stomach to get the errant paper when she heard Harry and Ron nearby. Not wanting to see Ron as she was still quite peeved, she stayed low in the shrubbery.

“ — right? I really think she could go professional,” Harry was saying as they put away the brooms.

“Yeah. If we could get Gin on the Cannons then they might do well next year.”

“Given the Harpies poster in her room, I’d say that’s an uphill battle.”

“Yeah, well, most things are an uphill battle with the women in my life,” Ron said with a rueful chuckle.

Hermione rolled her eyes, stretching her arm out towards her parchment. Fingers almost touched the edge of the paper. She finally yanked it towards her and scooted out from the shrub when there was a gust of wind. The shed door shut with a great slam making her jump.

In seconds an ear splitting explosion thrashed her eardrums. Dust and wood flew in every direction. Her ears rang as she struggled to make sense of what had happened.

Where the door to the shed used to be there was now a splintered mass of wood falling to the ground. Wood dust and particles of debris were still settling in the air. Ron was coughing and turned away from the mess while Harry stood stock still, wand pointed at the shed. His eyes were wide and fearsome, focusing on where the door stood, holding on by one lone warped hinge. She’d only seen Harry look this way during a battle.

“Harry? You alright?” Ron wheezed, giving a cough and waving at the cloud of dust around his face.

Harry didn’t respond. His look was wild and senseless, not acknowledging Ron’s presence at all. If she had her wand she would have frozen Harry in place. Why had she left her wand behind the one time she needed it? She wanted to cry out to Ron to step away from him, but her voice caught in her throat. All that came out was a squeek.

“Mate?”

Harry’s blank eyes finally turned to Ron, and if she thought the feral look on his face was bad, she was ill prepared for the sight of his face beginning to crumple. He looked so close to tears she could barely stand it.

“You’re - you’re alright,” Ron murmured, slowly standing beside Harry, approaching him like a wounded animal. He didn’t touch Harry, but stood rather close.

Harry shook his head and just stood, trying to calm his breathing, hands shaking and wand gripped so hard it looked as if he’d snap it.

Ron finally put a hand on their friend’s arm, but Harry flinched away.

“I just… I - I need a moment… I just… I need…” he looks hopelessly about, taking deep gulps of air.

Ron nodded, backing away only a few paces. Harry removed his glasses to shakily wipe at his eyes while Ron checked on the shed. She could see him keeping an eye on Harry the whole time, even as he secured the brooms and repaired the door. It looked nearly as it had before, though the middle section of the wood now had a subtle warp to it.

“It’s all fixed, Harry.”

That seemed to snap Harry’s attention to the present. He looked away from Ron for one final wipe of his eyes.

“The fuck… the fuck is wrong with me… What the hell?” he said, not allowing himself to fully cry. Ron winced.

“We’re all a bit jumpy after everything.”

“No… not like that… I… I could have hurt you!” Harry almost wailed.

“I’d’ve blocked you just fine,’ Ron said with a reassuring smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Hermione didn’t like that one bit. Could Ron honestly stand much of a chance against Harry’s fast reflexes? The thought of Harry inflicting that spell on Ron instead of the shed made her want to cry as badly as Harry’s tear filled gaze. “You weren’t really aiming at me, though, were you? Just the door that slammed, right?”

“I just… I just did it on instinct… I didn’t even hesitate…” Harry shook his head. “God, what if someone had been there? Ginny or Hermione...”

Ron’s appeared torn. She could tell he was just as concerned as Harry about it. How could he not be?

“But no one was there,” Ron said reassuringly. “After the last year, it’d be weird if you weren’t fast on the draw now.”

“I could’ve killed you.” Harry’s hand shakily threaded through his hair. “I’m not safe to be around…”

“Well, what’s new? Undesirable Number One and all that,” Ron snorted. Harry looked pained and Ron quickly sobbered his expression. “‘Ok, so… Not your best moment, this, but we can work on it, can’t we? Maybe try next time to just... not do a spell first thing. If you have to point your wand, do it. I do it too— but no spells until you have a chance to give it a proper look, eh?”

Harry mutely nodded and gave a great sniff.

“Want some tea?”

Harry gave a noncommittal shrug, which meant he’d accept the tea and company without complaint. The two went to the house and she saw Ron put an arm around his mate, giving him one of those manly one armed squeezes she’d seen them do. Harry didn’t shrug it off.

Hermione sat on the ground, clutching the papers to her chest, for how long she didn’t know. She felt thoroughly ashamed for how terse she’d been with him. Earlier he’d called her a hypocrite, and he’d been very right about it.

The way she’d been so combative with Ron when he was just trying to help her was exactly what she’d censured Harry for earlier that morning. He was so kind and thoughtful and she threw it back in his face. Her vicious words made it that much worse when she knew very well what all Ron was dealing with… It was a wonder he put up with her at all. How long would he be able to? Would any of them?

Her hands fumbled as she wiped the dirt off her clothes. She slowly ambled to the rest of her things, a terrible numbness leaking into her limbs and mind with every movement. Book bag properly packed, she made her way to the house.

Harry was sitting outside with some tea and, slouched low in the wooden chair with long legs fully extended in front of him, was Ron. To anyone that didn’t know Ron well, they’d say he was just a nonchalant teenager, the way he almost lazily drooped off the chair. He even had a bit of a smirk as he chatted at Harry. But she could see the little things that gave away how very tense he was. The set of his mouth was thinner than usual, his shoulders were tensed, his wand was right at his fingertips, and his eyes were worriedly tracing over Harry, studying him like a chess board.

He’d always had the ability to unflinchingly offer friendship, irreverence and comfort, and it never failed to warm her all over. It was probably what most made her love him. She loved everything about him, truth be told. She imagined she always had. It was hard to keep from shouting it across the garden.

As she approached Harry stared down at his tea, but looked markedly better than he had. Ron glanced up at her with a questioning look on his face, smirk fading to something more serious.

“Ron… Could I talk with you a moment?”

He gave a glance to Harry who waved him off. “‘M fine.”

“Yeah, we can talk,” Ron said with a wary nod, putting aside his cup by the chair. He silently followed Hermione across the yard to behind the back of his father’s shed. It was cool and shaded by a few trees and bushes, affording them privacy. She put up most of the charms she had during the horcrux hunt and dropped her book bag to the ground.

With little warning she pounced upon him, her arms around his neck, bringing him low enough for their lips to meet. At first he was so stunned he did little but stand there, arms hovering over her waist, but after her tongue worked its way into his mouth he suddenly pulled away.

“What’s going on? You were yelling at me not ten minutes ago and—”

“And now I’m kissing you,” she said before impatiently pulling him down to her lips.

“But why—?”

“Because you’re you,” she murmured impatiently, nipping his bottom lip to encourage him to continue.

Whatever doubts he had seemed quashed, for he promptly took control of their kiss. An arm swept around her, embracing her tightly against his strong form. His other hand traced its way through her hair. For a moment she worried at how frizzy it must have been, but as his touch lowered to her neck making her body buzz she found she didn’t care about her hair in the least.

A raw heat coursed through her as the kisses grew in intensity. The smell of fresh grass, sweat, and his hair was filling her senses. Her legs felt wobbly as his hands brushed against her flesh. The hand on her back drifted a bit up her top, making her let out a gasp.

Forcing herself to take a breath, she gently pushed him back from her. His hold on her quickly went slack, and his brows wrinkled with concern.

“Too much? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I just was thinking we should get more comfortable. Maybe - maybe lying down?” she said, struggling to add a notion of calmness into her tone. Flushed and lips slightly swollen he blinked at her.

“Er, yeah,” he hoarsely responded after a few moments. “Yeah, sure."

With a few quick spells her book bag had turned into a blanket on the ground and began to seat herself. Yes, this looked like a comfortable enough spot to lie down. They’d never lain together as they kissed, and her stomach was anxiously flipping over it. She wasn’t worried about their intimacy increasing — no, she was really rather excited for that — she wasn’t sure her skills would be up to the task. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, how to position herself, and certainly didn’t know how Ron wanted to be touched and caressed.

She knew about the machinations of coitus from books and a rather prolonged talk with her mother, complete with charts, but what about everything else leading up to that? Almost everything surrounding romantic physical intimacy she picked up from erroneous sources. Movies, tawdry romance novels of her mothers that she had scanned through, and random comments from other students made up the majority of her knowledge, if it could even be called that. There didn’t seem to be researched text books that taught you how to touch and kiss properly. If there were such a book, she was fairly certain Ron had read it.

The way Ron kissed and touched her… He seemed to know exactly what to do every time. Was it from all his practice with Lavender? That thought was rather souring. Well, practice made perfect then, because it all felt perfect to her.

Ron lowered himself to the ground, a bit more awkwardly than she as he was all long limbs. Nerves shot through her as she tried to decide how to approach him now that they were both on the blanket. Should she just lie down immediately? Pounce him again? All she knew was if they didn’t continue soon she might go mad.

She was jarred from her fretting by Ron playfully bumping his shoulder against hers. He gave her a boyish smile that calmed her a bit. His hand rested beside hers, but he made no move to touch her. He just stared at her with that easy crooked smile. His slight dimple in his right cheek twitched, and she quickly put a hand to cup it. She grazed her fingers across the rough copper hairs on his face. Dappled light hit across his stubble, highlighting different shades of amber and saffron. She was suddenly acutely aware of how he was very much becoming a man.

She leaned in and the passion of earlier was immediately ignited, making all her worries vanish. He bent his head to kiss her, and it seared through her. The kiss went on for a long while, her palms slowly moved down his chest, and his hands similarly wandered. Somehow she ended up on her side, leg twining around his. His hand that had been at her back slid down until it rested on her buttocks giving them a firm squeeze and they both moaned in unison. Puffs of laughter began to break their kiss, and they both giddily smiled at one another.

“Well, I guess we both liked that, then” she breathlessly panted.

“Fuck yeah,” he grinned, pulling her close again, briefly seizing an earlobe between his teeth. His mouth travelled down her neck finding the spot that always made her turn boneless, gasping and frantic for more touches.

“And...” he said, punctuating each move down the column of her neck with a kiss, “I guess...” Kiss. “You like…” Kiss. “That?”

She nodded her head and muffled a moan, pulling her leaping curls aside so he could thoroughly kiss and suck along her neck.

Her hips rolled against his, and he grunted into her ear, hips automatically mimicking her motion. She was shocked to feel the hardness between his legs pressing into her thigh. He seemed to realize this too because he turned his face away just a bit and gave an unintelligible swear. He began to let go of her, apologizing.

Hermione pulled him tightly against her again, her hips twitching against his. “I like it.”

He let out a deep hoarse “fuuuck” that rumbled through her chest. Their kisses became frantic, and she let out a pleased whimper as his hand went up her shirt, cupped her breast and thumbed the nipple. One of her hands weaved its way through his ginger locks, the other danced down the front of his chest to the edge of his shirt, feeling the wiry hairs just disappearing down his waistband.

She’d never been drunk before, but she now knew what intoxication felt like. Her mind was buzzing yet full at the same time. There was nothing but the blaring thoughts of Ron’s hands pressing solidly into her curves. His mouth perfectly molded against hers. His tongue made wicked thoughts and flames flow down her body.

“Fuck… ‘Mione…” He gave a hiss and thrust against her, hand delightfully clasping her breast.

Their movements seemed to be hurtling towards something Hermione couldn’t quite place, and her thighs squeezed around his as her center found an even more pleasurable angle to grind against him.

“Yesss,” she choked out. She pushed her hips more forcefully against him, seam of her jeans rubbing up and down his hardness with complete abandon.

She was dancing closer and closer to the edge, his solid form overwhelming her, the different sensations filling her with a hot lust she’d never experienced before. The jolts fired between her legs built higher and higher. She arched tightly against him, hardly able to breath.

And then she was cuming, suddenly and so forcefully she let out a loud wailing cry.

Her muscles twitched and trembled as she stilled against him, feeling awfully close to fainting. Ron gave a few last thrusts of his hips, giving a deep lust-filled moan before similarly seizing, clutching her close to him. They both went boneless, collapsing into each other, left as nothing but a panting tumble of limbs.

They spent a few hazy minutes holding one another, her head nuzzled into his chest. After a time one of Ron’s hands caressed her hair, attempting to smooth the curls back behind her ear. Wild and a bit sticky with sweat, it clung around his fingers. He made several failed attempts to disentangle himself, without also smothering Hermione’s face in curls.

“It’s like bloody Devil’s Snare,” he chuckled. “Should I light a fire?”

Hermione normally would have blushed pink over a tease about her wild hair, but her mind felt blissfully warm and blank for the first time in weeks.

“I’ve got it,” she lazily smiled back, pushing back all her hair behind her head.

He kissed her sticky forehead and broadly grinned before squinting down their bodies and showing a look of mild distaste. “Ah... where’s my wand?”

She looked down and saw a spreading dark patch on his jeans and one a bit further down his leg. Hermione felt her face crimson as she realized the second stain on his jeans was from her. They sheepishly rolled apart and sat up to get their wands and say a few spells, before turning back to look at one another.

“That was...” he said with a breathless grin.

“Really nice,” Hermione finished. She knew she must have a foolishly besotted look on her face.

“Really fucking hot.” Ron nodded, ducking his head to kiss her lips as she furrowed her brows at his language. She couldn’t keep her scowl up, and pulled back grinning.

“It was, wasn’t it?” she laughed. He smiled down at her and one of his hands stroked up and down her upper arm.

Had she ever felt so care free?

A sudden pop of nearby Apparition startled them from their reverie, immediately popping the elation she’d felt bubbling through her. It burnt away like morning mist.

Ron was on his feet, a furrowed scowl on his face, turning him from affable lover to menacing warrior in seconds. Hermione quickly joined him, tightly gripping her wand at her side. Whoever it was did not take any care to tread softly. The sound of heavy footfalls came their way, and Hermione exhaled a breath when she saw who was walking towards the house.

“Oh! It’s George!” she said in relief, letting her wand arm go lax at her side. She turned to Ron, expecting to see relief flooding his face. His wayward brother had finally returned home!

She never expected to see a brooding worried expression.

Ron silently paced forward before he remembered himself, looking back at her.

“Can you conjure a mirror or something for us? We need to get sorted and back to the house,” he said, brows crinkling even further as he squinted at brother. George had slowed his pace and stood stock still, watching the house.

Hermione silently conjured a mirror for them. Preoccupied by the sudden shift in Ron’s mood she barely took the time to glance at herself as he quickly straightened his clothes and made sure to spell away the telltale signs of a heated snogging session. She finally took the time to sort her own appearance out when she realized she had stubble burns along her face and neck, along with a love bite at her jugular. She quickly covered those up with some glamours, willing herself to remember to use a tincture for them once she got in the house.

Her hair was a lost cause of snarled knots, so she put it into a large bun at the top of her head. The mirror faded out of existence just as she put the final touch on her hair. Ron undid the security spells around them, while Hermione transfigured the blanket back into a book bag.

“Do I look alright?” she asked, wanting to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything that could give away their previous activities.

“Sure,” he said with a cursory glance before striding towards George, shoulders tense.

Nothing could account for his sober response to his brother returning, at least as far as Hermione could figure.

“Oi! George,” Ron called out.

George gave a start and turned around. Hermione gasped at his appearance. He was unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes, and his skin, normally a bit ruddy, was a sickly pale. He looked as if he’d been hunting Horcruxes.

“Where’d you two come from?” George asked, voice sounding a touch hoarse. Both Ron and Hermione began to color. He squinted at them before his mouth twitched. “Oh I see!”

“We were just at the broom shed,” Hermione protested.

“Yeah, our brooms are notorious for leaving love bites,” George teased, pointing to where Hermione’s neck met her shoulder.

“Ron! I asked you if I looked alright!” she squealed, conjuring another mirror.

“Don’t worry. If he’s leaving marks like that on your neck, he probably thinks you look alright,” George said with a low laugh. Hermione glanced at Ron and expected to see him churlishly bristling at his brother’s tease.

Instead he looked at the house and bit his lip. “Hermione, could you go on to the house?”

George’s expression quickly turned grim.

“I… ” she hesitated, unsurely looking between them. Ron looked down at her, for no more than a second, but his intense blue gaze immediately convinced her to comply. “Of course. Should I tell them George is here?”

“Not yet,” Ron answered for the pair of them, crossing his arms to regard his brother. Silence stretched between them, barbed and filled with import Hermione had no access to. She was terribly curious to know what was happening in this hidden exchange, but quickly realized nothing would be said as long as she stood there.

With some nonsensical excuse she trotted to the house. Inside the kitchen she found Ginny at the counter, letting out a laugh and leaning her head backwards to look at Harry whose arms were wrapped around her waist. A half sliced tomato lay forgotten on the cutting board.

She gave an awkward throat clearing to alert them to her presence. They didn’t immediately leap apart, but Harry rather slowly extricated himself from Ginny. Hermione shuffled through the door up to the loo to properly get rid of the love bites and stubble burn Ron had left her with. When she was sure there were no marks left untended, she scampered into Ginny’s room to peer down into the Weasley’s back yard. She could just make out George and Ron’s red hair through the branches of a tree, but frustratingly that’s all she could see. She felt a touch guilty for trying to spy on them, but that was only because Ron was acting so cagey! Something was going on between the two brothers, and she was determined to find out what.

Returning to the kitchen she found Ginny and Harry had finished slicing produce and set out ingredients for everyone to assemble their own sandwiches.

Ron stumped into the room a moment later, but George was nowhere to be seen. Hermione shot him a questioning look. He shook his head before ushering her into the living room and leaning into her, his mouth almost touching her ear.

“He’s still dithering outside.”

“What did you two talk about?”

“Nothing much,” he said with a shrug. “Mostly checking that he was alright…”

Somehow that didn’t seem like the whole truth. She searched his face, the way he tried to school it to a calm expression, the small downturn of his mouth, and the slight flush across his freckles. He must have caught the argument in her eyes, because he quickly cut her off.

“I can’t force him to come in, and I don’t want to set up Mum and Ginny for disappointment if he bails, so I’m not saying anything, and neither are you.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she assured him, trying not to prickle at his commanding tone.

“Ron, Hermione, we have owls!” Harry called out to them.

“Be right there,” Ron answered, his serious expression robotically flickering into a smile before he entered the kitchen. “Fare looks good. Thanks, Gin.”

Hermione felt a chill settle around her. When had he become so good at putting on smiles that didn’t meet his eyes?

A handsome horned owl with a Ministry of Magic crest around its neck sat perched on the kitchen windowsill, looking about the room in a terribly imperious way. Harry and Ginny stood next to the bird.

“Aren’t you a proud one,” said Ginny, stroking the bird on its feathered chest before feeding it an owl treat.

Hermione primly seated herself at the worn kitchen table, expecting Ron to take a seat beside her. Instead he took a moment to get her a glass of water and an apple. He placed them in front of her with a pointed look. She ignored his gaze and fixed her sights on the owl at the window.

“You should wait until you’ve taken the letter before you fatten them up,” said Harry, though he seemed just as eager to pet the pretty thing, looking at the bird in a longing sort of way. Moments like this made Hermione’s heart clench at how he’d lost his Hedwig. “Don’t want it flying off before we take the letters.”

The owl gave Harry a sharp peck on the finger, as if offended he’d impugn its honor in such a way.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean it,” Harry said with a bowed head before removing three indentically sealed letters and bringing them to the table and handing one each to Ron and Hermione. With the owl gone, Ginny went to retrieve Mrs Weasley for lunch.

Harry had a grim look on his face, but quickly cracked his letter open, hesitating in reading it as he waited for Ron and Hermione to open theirs as well. Ron pursed his lips at his unopened letter and tapped it on the table, glancing to Hermione then back to the parchment.

A wild thought rushed through Hermione’s head. What if the Ministry was going to bring them before the Wizengamot for crimes during the war? They’d broken into the Ministry, Gringotts... Harry even did an Unforgivable there!

Hermione’s hands shook as she inspected the crisp envelope, and for an awful moment she thought she might faint. The parchment was of the finest quality Hermione had ever seen, thick and flecked with little pieces of silvery material woven into the paper. The seal on it was dark purple and had the Ministry of Magic crest pressed into it, making for an intimidating sight.

“Real official, innit?” Ron said into her ear. Hermione nodded back, hesitating before breaking the seal. They each turned to their letters.

To Miss Hermione Granger,

In the name of the Ministry of Magic, the Minister of Magic takes pleasure in presenting the Order of Merlin, First Class to you.

“What?” Hermione gave a yelp, knocking over her glass of water that pooled across the table.

“What is it?” asked Mrs Weasley from the stairs, Ginny rushing past her to Harry’s side and reading the letter with wide eyes.

“Does yours say this too?” Hermione asked Ron, shoving her letter at him. He scanned over it and nodded.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, cheeks flushed, handing her letter over to him. Harry nodded as well. She grabbed it back and voraciously continued reading.

This is to award your extraordinary heroism in the Battle of Hogwarts, and other aid you rendered to the war effort. You have distinguished yourself with conspicuous bravery, valor and intrepidity, at great risk to your own life, going above and beyond any wizard or witch’s duty during the last war. Your actions reflect the highest traditions and tenets of wizardom, and for all this we thank you.

We will be holding a ceremony in August to formally present you with your Order of Merlin, should you choose to accept it.

The Ministry also wants to extend an opportunity for someone of your caliber to continue such works as we rebuild our community. We are offering you the position of Deputy Auror, to begin as soon as you are able. After our abbreviated training of several months, you would be promoted to full Auror. Attached are forms detailing this position, and a meeting must be scheduled for the final papers to be signed, should you agree to accept the position.

The Ministry commends you for all your service, and waits for your reply,

Thank you,

Kingsley Shacklebolt Minister of Magic

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” asked Mrs Weasley, marching over to them arms akimbo.

“They’ve been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class,” Ginny said, breathlessly looking between them all, just as flabbergasted as they were.

“What?” Mrs Weasley cried out, grabbing for a letter to read as well. As her eyes got to the bottom of the page she gave a horrid yowl before hugging Ron and crying. “Ohh Ron… I can’t believe— I mean... We all knew Harry would, but… Oh Ronnie!”

Ron silently patted his mother’s shoulder, still in his place staring at the paper with wide eyes.

“Let me see it?” Mrs Weasley asked her son, and he dazedly handed it over. “Order of Merlin! And… Kingsley wants you to become an Auror? But you haven’t even graduated from Hogwarts yet!”

Ron, uncharacteristically quiet, gave a shrug and looked to Hermione and Harry.

“And we didn’t even have to take our NEWTs,” Harry replied, giving Ron a conspiratorial grin.

“Makes it pretty clear how desperate the Ministry must be for recruits to ask me to join them,” Ron said in a low voice, barely audible as he shook his head. Hermione knew this was a perfect moment to intervene and stop him from his self deprecation, but found herself unable to form the words needed to boost him. Luckily his mother stepped in.

“Oh of course they’d want you, Ron! You’ve an Order of Merlin!” Mrs Weasley proclaimed, clutching Ron to her breast again, great fat tears forming in her eyes. “You all were so brave… ”

“Is everything alright?” they heard from the kitchen door.

There stood George. His shadowed and sunken eyes darted around his childhood home with a strange caginess. He hadn’t set foot at the Burrow since well before the war ended, and didn’t particularly look like he wanted to be there now.

Mrs Weasley, thoroughly overwhelmed by the sight of him on top of all the Ministry news, broke into wet sobs that were even louder than before. She bustled across the room to give George a crushing hug he perfunctorily returned.

“These three just got Order of Merlin, First Class, and have been invited to join the Aurors, no NEWTs required,” Ginny reported as she went up to hug George as well.

“Oh is that all? Nothing impressive like landing yourselves on the Chocolate Frog cards?” George said with a dry smile, slowly extracting himself from his mother’s grasp. “Got any food?”

“Ginny set out some sandwich fixings. Here, I’ll make you one” Ron said, getting up from the table.

“See, Ickle Ronniekins making me a sandwich— definitely a more impressive feat than medals and dream careers,” George said, slumping to the kitchen table and sitting beside Hermione. He smelled a bit of sweat and stale drink. She had to wonder how he’d been spending the past weeks.

“I’m so happy to have you home! I was beginning to think you’d never come back,” Mrs Weasley bemoaned, bustling the kitchen to get some tea going.

“Well… I’m back,” George said, resting his elbows on the table, looking every inch as weary as Hermione felt. “At least for a bit… Might need to take this lot out to celebrate Ron’s sandwich skills later tonight. Big deal, that.”

“It’s nice to have something to celebrate, for once,” Harry said with a nod. “What are you thinking?”

“I dunno, maybe hit the pub in the village,” George said with a shrug.

“No, not the village,” Ron said with a strange amount of firmness, thrusting a full plate of sandwiches in front of George, then another in front of Hermione. His expression had turned grim, and his mouth had become a firm straight line. Hermione stared at him as George, Ginny and Harry speculated over where to spend their evening. Where everyone else was happy to come up with ideas, Ron had grown completely silent. No one else seemed to have noticed the change in Ron’s demeanor, though.

“I’m a bit nervous about Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade— we wouldn’t have much privacy,” Harry noted.

“Harry’d probably be swarmed with people,” said Ginny.

“I know a Muggle club we could hit up,” said George lowly, so his mother couldn’t hear over her ministrations with the kettle. “We’d need to make you all some Muggle I.D.s, but I can manage that easy enough.”

“I’ve never been to a Muggle club! Do I have to dress up?” asked Ginny, eyes bright.

“A bit, yeah— I bet Hermione can help you with that.”

“I’ve never been to a club either!” Hermione let out, feeling nervous at the prospect of it. The most she'd seen of clubs was quickly and nervously walking by them in London. It didn’t seem a good fit for her.

“Well then Angelina can help,” George said, making sure his mother wasn’t able to hear. “How ‘bout we meet at my hotel after dinner here. Round eight thirty? Gives the girls a chance to dress up a bit, and us lads a chance to pre-drink a bit before we leave.”

Ron had little enthusiasm on his face, but seeing George, Ginny and Harry’s attitude about it, gave a nod. Hermione nodded along, standing from the table. She went to the kitchen door and gave Ron a tilt of her head so he’d follow. He quickly took up with her, but not before grabbing a few sandwiches in a clean dish cloth.

“You don’t look too keen on going to a club,” said Hermione as they went out.

“I’m not. You don’t seem too keen on it either, though.”

“No… It sounds exhausting. We wouldn’t even leave properly until nine or later. Plus who wants to be scantily clad in an ill-lit place with banging music and alcohol?”

A small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Scantily clad?”

“The ‘dress code’ for women is a bit underdressed in clubs for my liking. Always something low cut, or short and strappy. Lots of skin.”

“Hmmm if you’re there, I think a Muggle club might not be so bad,” he said, eyeing her body up and down.

“Well, Muggle clubs are very different from any of the pubs or parties you’ve been to, unless you’ve secretly gone to, I don’t know, a Wizard rave of some sort.”

“I’ve seen lots of wizards raving about lots of things the past few years. No idea what that has to do with Muggle clubs.”

“A ‘rave’ is a wild sort of dance party,” she explained. “Politicians were even speaking out against them a few years ago. It’s just not a natural fit for someone like me.”

“We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to, but at the same time,” said Ron, taking her hand to draw her close, chuckling a bit. “I wouldn’t mind getting to see you adhering to the Muggle club dress code.”

She smiled at his cheek, a blush warming her face as his hands encircled her waist.

“Well… it might be fun to celebrate a bit. We’ve not had much chance to celebrate this year.”

“Order of Merlin! Blimey… It feels a bit unreal… You don’t suppose George is pranking me?”

“Of course not!” she laughed.

“Awfully coincidental timing… We get the letters, seconds later there’s George... This is the kind of shit prank I can see him pulling for his big debut back at the Burrow.”

Hermione’s face sobered a bit.

“I don’t think we’ll see him debuting any pranks soon… He looked so tired, and —” she bit her lip, not wanting to alarm him, but also knowing it was best to talk honestly about it. “Ron, I think he has been drinking today. I could smell it on him…”

Ron nodded and his hold on her slackened by a margin. “The last time I visited him he was deep in a bottle… We didn’t get too deep into it. I don’t want to push him too hard about it right now.”

“Well won’t a club be a rather bad environment for him?”

“I’d rather he be drunk with company than without.”

“I suppose… Well, maybe we should do this, if not to have fun, then just to watch out for George.”

Ron kissed the top of her head. “Always a thoughtful one, you.”

She hummed at his attention.

“So… The Aurors…” Ron said with a nervous swallow.

“Oh that!” Hermione said with a snort.

“Yeah… What are your thoughts on it?” he said, gently pulling himself from her grasp.

“A few years ago I might have been flattered at being asked, but I think they have a lot of nerve asking us to go straight into anything like that, given the year we’ve had! And we haven’t even finished our education!”

“So you don’t want to be an Auror?”

“Of course not! I’d rather, I don’t know, scrape barnacles off of dragons. Plus they must know our whole class has been invited back to Hogwarts,” she said with a small scoff. “Honestly, I don’t know how they can expect anyone in their right mind to take such an offer.”

Ron grimaced as he scratched at his jaw, hairs rasping against his fingers with every movement.

“Yeah, probably have to be rather mental…” he said, going a bit pale as his mouth turned down.

“Oh no…” Hermione said with a sudden realization. “You don’t think Harry will take that offer, do you?”

His eyebrows rose. “Yeah, he will.”

“Of course he would! He’s just the sort of brave stubborn person to do it, isn’t he? We’ll just have to convince him not to!” she said, about to march back into the house, but Ron caught her arm.

“Hermione… He’s going to join the Aurors. There’s nothing that’ll stop him.”

“Well not with that attitude!”

“You saw him in there, he was smiling and happy about it.”

“I don’t care if he’s over the moon about it! It’s dangerous, and we’ve been through enough! He can’t just go and throw his life away—”

“How would being an Auror be throwing his life away?” Ron asked, giving a penetrating look. Nerves fluttered in her stomach. “It’s a good career.”

“Of course it is, but it’s dangerous! He could get hurt! Especially without all the training!”

“Well… Let’s look at what training he’s already gotten,” he hoarsely began. “He’s quick on his feet. He’s fairly athletic. He’s trained for years for this really… Giant spiders, tons of duels, battles and snatchers. Was on the quidditch team—”

“Oh what does that have to do with it!” she irritatedly asked.

“There are missions that require flying skills, and it shows he can work with a team,” Ron rattled off in a low voice. “Plus he doesn’t have slow reflexes and has the ability to keep his head about him in battles ok enough… Yeah he could be an alright Auror, even without a seventh year under his belt. He wouldn’t be throwing his life away. And Kingsley says he’s good enough. He’d know that, wouldn’t he?”

“I think you’re painting an overly rosy picture.”

“Well, he’s signing up no matter if he’d be shit or not,” Ron growled in protest, looking oddly heated about it. “So it’s best to just support him. It’s his choice, after all.”

Hermione crossed her arms and shook her head, thinking of Harry’s rattled response just earlier that day. He was in no fit condition to see action again. She would have argued this to Ron, but he didn’t know she’d seen it, and didn’t feel like confessing she’d been spying on them.

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it… But you’ll have to accept it,” Ron said evenly, though his eyes looked anguished. “You will, won’t you?”

She let out a huff. “I… I will once he’s in the Aurors, but until then, I make no promises.”

“It’s something he has to do,” he said, staring right through her. She’d never seen him so adamant about anything for Harry before. His eyes traced over her face, searching for something. “You can understand that, right?”

“Fine, Ron, I can understand it!” she said with a small eye roll before smiling at him. “Harry’s lucky to have you defend his ridiculous choices.”

He gave a shrug, staring at the ground, looking rather glum.

“Ron, Hermione, dears, come and get some lunch!” Mrs Weasley called from the house.

“No escaping food in the Weasley house,” Hermione murmured, putting a hand into Ron’s that seemed to startle him from his reverie.

“Er right… Better get inside and down a few sandwiches… Need the energy for later tonight,” he said, still looking every inch of him miserable.

“You alright?”

“Just hungry,” he said with a smile. This one didn’t reach his eyes either.

_____________________________________________________ Author’s note: Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it please reblog or review! :D I can’t emphasize how much they motivate me to write more! :D

#Romione #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #ron weasley #hermione granger #post war #my fics #waking up #chapter 3

63 notes · View notes

iliketoreadstuf · 4 years

Text

newbie (spencer reidxOC!) part 2

a/n: i’m just going to post everything i have written rn which is a lot so hopefully none of y’all get mad at me for spamming the tag bahaha

warnings: sexual assault mention, violence and injury

part one

chapter two:

Delaney woke with puffy eyes to her alarm at her bedside table. Shooting up from her sleeping position, she turned the loud alarm off and slipped out of the covers. She dug through her duffel bag to find her toiletries and she got in the shower, washing her hair and body with her soaps she brought from home.

She inhaled the relaxing scents of her floral soaps and stepped out when she was satisfied. Delaney looked in the mirror to find that her eyes were still slightly puffy and bloodshot. God, she looked like shit. Hurriedly, she combed and dried her hair, curling the ends. She put on minimal makeup, but enough to cover her heavy eyes.

Delaney stepped into a periwinkle pencil skirt and a fuzzy white sweater. She slipped into white heels and tied her hair back with a ribbon. Feeling like herself again, she let out a determined sigh and packed her things in her bag. Right as she was getting ready to leave, she heard a knock on her door. She opened it and found Spencer standing there.

He gave her a nervous smile and held out a travel cup. It smelled like coffee, which made Delaney smile. He had on a brown sweater with a burgundy tie and a white button-up. His hair was endearingly messy and curly and his eyes were bleary with sleep. She took the cup and closed her door behind her.

“Hey, thank you.” She smiled at him, taking a sip.

“Y-yeah. Of course.” He replied, twiddling with his fingers nervously.

“Reid, I’m sorry about last night. I wasn’t in a good state of mind and it was sweet of you to come to check on me. I-I’m not used to people, um, caring enough to check on me. So, thank you.” Delaney said, looking deep into his hazel eyes.

Spencer didn’t even process what was happening until Delaney’s arms were around his middle and her head was resting on his chest. She smelled like flowers and seemed to fit so perfectly against him. He wrapped his arms around her and set his chin on top of her head. He waited for her to let go of him first. She didn’t for at least a minute.

When Delaney pulled away, she had a small smile on her face as she wrapped her arm around his. Spencer was a good guy. She didn’t want to push him away as she did to a lot of people. Like she had the night before.

“You’re a good friend.” She smiled up at him, pulling him towards the elevators.

Spencer just let her pull him with a dazed expression. He wanted to ask her about the night before but decided that she should be the one to tell him. They stood in silence as they rode down to the lobby.

“So, what are we going to be doing today? Figuring out a geographical profile? I can help you with that.” Delaney said, her demeanor changing as she shifted into work mode.

“Yeah, Hotch will probably have us working on the geographical profile and everyone else will be trying to figure out the unsub’s identity,” Spencer said as the elevator door opened.

Delaney let go of his arm and walked over to the gathered members of their team. She looked back and gestures for Spencer to come faster. He grinned and picked up his pace, standing beside her as Hotch came over to the group.

“Okay, everyone. We’re all going to the station now. Wilmer, Reid, I want you two working on the geographical profile. Morgan, Rossi, I want you two to check out the other bars the victims were found at, maybe try to get some more information on the unsub. Prentiss, JJ, and I will interview the families of the victims. Everyone clear on their assignments?” Hotch said, looking around at the group.

Everyone nodded and piled into the SUV’s. Delaney was squished between Prentiss and Spencer, Hotch and Rossi in the front.

“How was your night, Wilmer?” Emily asked from beside her.

“Pretty good. I was exhausted and fell asleep quickly. How was yours?” Delaney asked her politely.

“Oh, you know. JJ snores and was up talking to Henry until midnight. The usual.” Emily grinned playfully.

Delaney realized that everyone else probably had a roommate. Delaney was simultaneously glad that she didn’t have one but sad that she didn’t have one. She looked over at Spencer curiously.

“Who are you rooming with, Reid?” She asked curiously.

“Morgan.” He said, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

“Oh, that must be fun. Does Morgan snore, too?” Delaney asked with a smile.

“From past experience of rooming with Morgan, yes, Wilmer, he does snore,” Rossi said from the passenger seat.

Delaney laughed lightheartedly. Spencer looked over at her with a wide grin on his face. Her laugh was extremely contagious and, soon enough, everyone in the car was laughing at Morgan’s expense. Spencer enjoyed how easily Delaney seemed to be fitting in with the team. Even Hotch was cracking a smile as Delaney laughed.

“So, how are you enjoying your first case, Wilmer?” Emily asked once their laughter died down.

“I like it. I’m excited to get to work with the genius today in his element.” Delaney bumped her shoulder into Spencer’s.

Spencer just rolled his eyes as his cheeks turned pink. Prentiss didn’t miss his reaction to Delaney. She met eyes with him over Delaney’s head and smirked knowingly at him. His eyes widened as he shook his head at her. She stifled a laugh and put her hands up, vowing not to say anything to embarrass him. Rossi met her eyes in the rearview mirror, both of them looking amused.

They got to the station and split up, Spencer and Delaney spreading out a map on their evidence board while the rest of the team went their separate ways. Delaney stepped out of her heels as the two of them started working on the logistics of the map. She marked where each girl was found and the two of them examined it. Spencer’s mind seemed to be running a mile a minute, looking between the markings.

Delaney was doing the same and both of them seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time. The unsub was making his way around Atlanta in a circular shape. Delaney went to the map and circled the area that he was avoiding. He had a clear comfort zone and there were only a few bars he had left to hit before he completed the circle.

“He’s got to live in this area and if we’re right, he’s going to hit this bar next,” Delaney said, pointing at a mark on the map with her marker.

“Yeah, let’s call Hotch and see if they’ve found anything on the unsub’s identity,” Spencer said, already pulling his phone out and dialing the number.

Hotch picked up and informed them that they caught the unsub on one of the cameras in the bar. Hotch had sent the video to Garcia, who was soon talking to them through a group call. Garcia informed them that the man in the footage’s name was Damien Reynolds, who was a 27-year-old man who had a past girlfriend that he was engaged to but eventually broke up with him due to his violent behavior towards her. She’d been recently married a month ago to another man and moved away.

“She got married right around the time the killings started,” Delaney said, the case slowly starting to come together.

“And based on the geographical profile Wilmer and I came up with, this is the bar he’s going to be hitting next,” Spencer said, pointing to the spot on the map to Garcia on the screen.

“Ah, yes, pretty boy, and his address is directly in the center of the kill zone,” Garcia said, sending them the address.

“We’ll come back to the station now and discuss everything we’ve found. Good work everyone.” Hotch said and hung up.

Spencer and Delaney high-fived each other with big grins. They held onto each other’s hands for a beat too long and quickly let each other go. Both of them had flushed cheeks and Delaney cleared her throat with a small smile.

“I’m gonna go get some more coffee. You want some?” She asked him, slipping her shoes back on.

“Yeah, thank you,” Spencer said, still trying to control his flustered state.

“Wait, let me guess how you take it. Hmm, what would a genius drink with his coffee? Black? No, five tablespoons of sugar?” Delaney asked, a teasing smile coming over her face.

“Just two tablespoons, please.” He said, unable to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing, doctor.” She winked and walked out of the room.

She walked over to the coffee machine and poured two cups, obliging Spencer’s request of two tablespoons to his and adding four tablespoons to hers and a splash of creamer. She didn’t like coffee all that much if she was honest, but she needed the energy. As she was stirring hers, an officer came over to her. He was probably in his 20’s, blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked like a Ken doll. He gave her a charming smile as he leaned against the counter.

“Hey, I’m Will. Delaney, right? You’re with the BAU.” The officer said, seemingly already knowing her.

“Uh, yeah. Agent Wilmer.” She said with a polite smile, holding her hand out for him to shake.

“You don’t seem old enough to be in the FBI. Tell me, Wilmer, how old are you?” He asked, holding her hand and pulling her a little closer.

She widened her eyes and gently pulled her hand away from him. This guy obviously didn’t see a lot of young women at his work, considering that most of their department were men.

“All you need to know is that I’m old enough to be in the BAU and the FBI. It was nice meeting you, Will.” She said, stepping away from him.

“Hey, do you guys ever get a break? Usually, after work, my buddies and I go out for a drink. Maybe you’d like to join us?” He asked, stepping closer to her again.

Delaney raised an unamused eyebrow at him. He didn’t seriously think she would consider going out for a drink with him and his friends, right? She had just got here and had serious work to do.

“No, I’m sorry. Unfortunately, there are women being murdered right now and my team is working hard to figure out who’s doing it. I don’t have time to get a drink.” She said sharply, grabbing the coffees and walking away from him.

She heard other officers snickering at their friend, obviously amused by her rejection. Delaney’s cheeks were flushed with frustration as she walked back into the conference room and shut the door a little too forcefully. Spencer seemed to have been watching the whole time and raised his eyebrows when she set down the coffees with a sigh.

“You okay? I saw that officer come up to you.” Spencer said, his eyes dark with seriousness.

“Men think they have the right to come up and ask women on dates whenever they please. I’ve never spoken a word to that guy and yet he thought I would just say yes to getting drinks with him and his pig friends.” Delaney said, looking down at her hands and angrily picking her nails.

“Hey, stop that. Just ignore them, alright? Considering the work we’ve accomplished today, we should only be here another day or two.” Spencer said, grabbing her hands to stop her from picking at her skin.

Delaney sighed and looked up at him. His eyes were so comforting as she stared into them that she believed anything he said. She slowly nodded and picked up her coffee. He let go of her hands and looked out the window at that cop. He was watching them in the conference room and Spencer glared harshly at him. The cop quickly looked away and seemingly got back to work.

The team got there shortly after that and they all discussed the possibilities of where and when the unsub would strike. They went over all the facts for hours until it started getting dark out. Garcia sent a picture of Damien’s ex-girlfriend, and sure enough, she was small and blonde. As all of them sat at the round table, Hotch and Rossi were talking quietly together.

Hotch cleared his throat and looked at Delaney. She shifted in her seat as her eyes widened slightly.

“Rossi and I came up with a plan that involves you, Wilmer.” He said hesitantly, obviously worried about Delaney’s reaction.

“Okay?” She asked uneasily, having a feeling of where this was going.

“We want you to be bait for the unsub tonight. You will be wired and we’ll have eyes on you the whole time. We wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important.” Hotch said.

“Woah, woah. You want her to lure in the unsub?” Spencer asked incredulously. “It’s her first case!”

“Yes, but she’ll be completely safe. She will never be alone and it could be a good chance for us to catch him.” Rossi said.

“I’ll do it,” Delaney said before anyone could protest it further.

“What? Delaney—” Spencer protested.

She gave him a look and he shut his mouth. Prentiss and JJ looked at each other with wide eyes, matching grins spreading across their faces. No one had shut him up like that before. The girls were amused and pretty impressed by Delaney’s ability.

“Okay, we need to start getting you ready. Reid, you and Wilmer have the bar you think the unsub will hit next, right?” Hotch asked while waving Delaney over.

Spencer nodded and Delaney stood from her seat and walked over to Hotch. He had one of his very serious expressions, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You don’t have to do this. I know you want to prove yourself to us but you don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I want to do this. If I can help us catch the unsub, why wouldn’t I do it?” Delaney said.

Hotch gave her a small grin and patted her shoulder.

“Do you have clothes that you could wear to the bar tonight? The unsub obviously likes girls who are dressed very feminine, so if you have a dress or something that would be best.”

“Yes, I can do that. Give me 20 minutes at the hotel and I’ll be ready to go.” Delaney said with determination.

“Alright, I’ll have JJ come with you and help you at the hotel,” Hotch said, waving JJ over to them.

JJ listened to Hotch’s orders and they were soon driving back to the hotel. JJ and Delaney walked into her room as she kicked her shoes off and JJ helped her look through her clothes. Rifling through her bag, JJ pulled out a tight black dress Delaney had brought in case the team went out to dinner. She always brought outfits for every occasion, she had a bad habit of overpacking. Delaney slipped it on, untangling the spaghetti straps, and pulling it down. It was shorter than something she’d usually wear at work and she felt slightly exposed in it. She slipped her feet into black heels with straps and put on some hoop earrings. Delaney quickly parted her hair down the middle and JJ helped her ruffle it around and spray it with some hairspray.

Delaney pulled out her makeup bag and leaned close to the mirror, applying smoky black eyeliner and more mascara and blush. She put on red lipstick and deemed herself ready. With a quick spritz of perfume, she packed her things back in her bag and walked back out. JJ was waiting on her bed and smiled at her as she walked out.

“Damien’s not going to be able to resist you.” She said with a sly smile.

“Thanks, JJ,” Delaney said with a smile.

The girls got in the car and made their way back to the station. As they drove, Delaney felt a question rising in her. She looked over at JJ and couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Hey, JJ?” She asked quietly.

JJ looked over at her with questioning eyes.

“Do you… ever get hit on by men? Like men working with you?” She asked hesitantly.

“All the time,” JJ said with a smile.

“How do you deal with it? I mean, a police officer came over to me today and just asked me to have a drink with him tonight. Just like that.” Delaney said, still frustrated by her encounter from earlier that day.

“Delaney, you’re young and beautiful and smarter than all of those men in the police station. They’re all going to be trying to get under your skin as long as you’re here. I’ve had to deal with it my whole career and the easiest thing you can do is just beat them at their own game. Use your intelligence and your beauty to put them in their place.” JJ said, glancing over at Delaney.

Delaney nodded and thought over her words. Just put them in their place.

“Okay. Thanks, JJ.” She said as they pulled into the police station.

“Anytime, kid.” She patted Delaney’s head and they got out of the car.

The girls made their way inside and Delaney immediately saw Will sitting at his desk. His mouth fell open when he saw her and she waved at him with a smirk. Most of the police officers followed her with their eyes and she tried to hold back a smile. Hotch had told her to look ready so she had to pull all the stops.

When they walked back into the conference room, the conversation stopped. Delaney nervously walked over to the table after JJ. She locked eyes with Spencer, who blushed and looked down.

“Too much?” She said with a smile.

“Damn, girl, you look good.” Morgan whistled with a smirk on his face.

Delaney smirked back and felt confidence surge in her chest. Some of the officers came over to see what was going on and why Delaney was dressed like that.

“Here, get yourself wired and we’ll get ready to leave. Spencer, you have the bar?” Hotch said, handing Delaney her wire.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. He’s heading across the city in a circle, hitting every bar he comes across. If we’re right, he’ll be going to this one next.” Spencer pointed to a dot on his map that everyone looked at.

“Okay, everyone knows what to do. Delaney, I’ll have Reid brief you on what you need to do.” Hotch said, walking over to the officers gathered around.

Delaney walked over to Spencer, who was avoiding eye contact with her. She found it quite endearing as she sat next to him. He was fumbling with his tie as she wired herself.

“Okay, so you’re going to just act natural and sit at the bar for most of the night. Maybe get up and walk around but keep yourself visible to most people. We want the unsub to notice you and try to lure you out of the bar. You’ll need to keep us updated. I’ll be inside and most people will be outside waiting for you two to come out.” Spencer explained.

Delaney nodded and finished getting wired. She grabbed her phone and wallet, looking around at everyone. Her heart was beating quickly in her chest. If things went as planned tonight, she would be staring down a serial killer in a few hours. Possibly flirting with one.

“Ready?” Spencer asked, noticing her go off in her head.

“Yes. Ready as I’ll ever be.” Delaney said, forcing a smile on her face.

She walked out of the conference room with Emily and JJ, the officers still gawking at her as they passed. JJ gave her a look and winked, making Delaney smile. She just looked away from the officers and got in the car. Hotch and Rossi were in the front of the car as Delaney and Spencer slid in the backseat. She twiddled her fingers as they made their way to the bar. It was already dark out when they arrived and the bar was crowded.

“Okay, Wilmer, you’re going to tell the unsub that your name is Carly Harris. You’re 23 and you work as a secretary. Keep him talking for as long as possible. Remember that he’s young with dark brown hair. He’ll be charismatic and flirty.” Hotch prepped her.

“Got it.” Delaney nodded.

“Good luck, kid. You can do this.” Rossi smiled as Delaney got out of the car.

She just nodded and made her way into the bar, quickly showing her ID to the bouncer and walking in. Immediately she looked around for the unsub. No one caught her attention so she went up to the bar and sat down. She ordered a glass of wine reluctantly. She didn’t like alcohol very much and was pretty sensitive to its effects. She took small sips as she slowly looked around, trying not to look too interested.

Every once in a while she’d update the team through her wire, saying that she didn’t see anyone suspicious.

She spotted Spencer standing in a corner. He was watching her like a hawk and she hid her smile with her glass. She was too busy thinking about Spencer that she barely noticed a man come sit beside her. It was Damien Reynolds. She whispered in her wire that he was there. Hotch told her to act natural.

“Hello there.” He said with a smooth voice.

Delaney looked over at him. He had dark brown hair and a wide grin. Her heart started pounding in her chest as he looked over her body.

“Hello.” She said with a sultry smile.

“What’s your name, pretty thing?” He asked, leaning closer to her.

“Carly. What’s yours?” She allowed him to get closer and forced her body to face his.

“Damien. Damien Reynolds. It’s very nice to meet you, Carly.” He said, holding his hand out to her.

“You too, Mr. Reynolds.” She shook it with a smirk, knowing that the team would be on high alert right at that moment.

“Are you here with anyone, Carly?” He asked, not letting go of her hand.

“No.” She sighed and pretended to look devastated with a pout. “I’m all alone tonight.”

“Do you want to change that?” He asked with a glint in his eye.

“What did you have in mind?” Delaney asked eagerly, leaning forward on her elbows to get closer to him.

“Come with me.” He pulled her hand a little too forcefully, but she ignored it.

Her heart was pounding. Hotch said something in her ear as Damien pulled her somewhere in the bar.

“Wilmer, where is he taking you?” Hotch asked urgently in her ear.

“I’m not sure,” Delaney whispered.

Damien looked back at her curiously, wondering what she’d said. She just smiled sweetly, trying to hide her fear. He wasn’t taking her outside as he had with his previous victims. She quickly realized it was a storage closet.

“A storage closet?” She pretended to ask Damien but was really informing her team where she was.

Damien hummed in reply as he shut them in and locked the door. Delaney tried to control her breathing as he turned to her with animalistic eyes. He backed her up against a wall and started kissing down her neck. Delaney was trying to control her panicked breaths. Damien grabbed her waist and started kissing her lips. She forced herself to kiss him back when she felt one of his hands leaving her waist and coming behind his back.

Her breath was coming quickly as she was having flashbacks to that party. She saw the glint of a knife and quickly kicked her knee out to hit his groin. He doubled over with a groan and she punched out at his nose, blood quickly pouring out of it as he seethed at her.

“You bitch!” He screamed, lunging at her and hitting her over the head with the back of the knife.

Delaney cried out as she fell. He kicked her in the ribs and she groaned again. Hotch was practically yelling in her ear but she couldn’t see anything as Damien kicked her again and brought his knife up. He slashed at her arm, drawing a deep cut. She managed to scrape her nails across his arm, drawing blood and grabbing at his knife. She grabbed it and slashed all the way across his stomach. Delaney’s vision was blurring as she heard the door being kicked open. Damien’s eyes went feral when he saw FBI vests. He looked over at the window in the closet and opened it, climbing out right as Morgan and Hotch came in. His knife was still in Delaney’s hand, his blood dripping off the blade.

Morgan ran to the window and tried to shoot, but Damien was already gone. Delaney cried out in pain and Spencer came in, looking down at her with wide eyes. He quickly leaned down and helped her up, wrapping her uninjured arm around his shoulders. Delaney whimpered quietly and he looked down at her with panicked eyes.

“He got away!” Morgan said angrily.

Spencer wasn’t even paying attention to what happened with the unsub. He was looking down as Delaney seemed to be gaining strength. She let go of Spencer and rushed out of the closet, her breath moving too fast for her to properly breathe. She vaguely heard Spencer yelling at Hotch and Hotch responding.

“We need medical here now,” Hotch said urgently in his wire, his voice ringing through Delaney’s ear.

She’d made it outside and tried to control her breathing. Too much was happening. Memories were consuming her brain as she leaned against the building, sliding down in a crouched position. She didn’t even process the pain in her ribs or the blood sliding down her arm. All she could do was bury her face in her knees and try to get rid of her memories. As she sat there, she felt a hand rest on her back.

She looked up in surprise and found Spencer staring at her with worried eyes. She felt her tears slipping down her cheeks and his fingers slowly wiped them away. Delaney wasn’t sure what to do, she hadn’t had anyone do this to her before. His touch was so light and tender that it made her heart contract.

“Delaney, the ambulance is here. Can you stand so we can get you taken care of? Please?” He asked with a gentle voice.

She nodded, Spencer grabbing her hands to help her up from her crouched position. Delaney let him lead her towards the back of the ambulance where some doctors waited for her. They had her sit down as they examined her and wrapped her arm tightly in gauze. After examining her, they said she’d need to come in to get stitches and meds for her bruised ribs.

“Can’t I just take some Tylenol and get more gauze for this?” Delaney asked, not wanting to go to the hospital and stay there alone.

“Wilmer, you have a huge cut down your arm and a possible concussion. You need to go to the hospital.” Hotch said sternly.

“But we were so close. I-I want to help you get him.” Delaney said desperately.

“Kid, you’ve more than proven yourself to us. It’ll be easy now. You cut a gash through his stomach and probably broke his nose. He’s not going to get very far.” Rossi said, petting her head gently. “Do you want one of us to stay with you?”

“No, you should all be out there trying to get him. I-I’ll be fine.” She said, forcing a reassuring smile on her face.

“No way. I’ll stay with her. Everyone else should go search for Reynolds.” Spencer said, giving Delaney a look that meant she didn’t have a choice.

“Alright, thank you, Reid. Call us with updates.” Hotch said, then turned to Delaney. “You kicked his ass. Good work, Wilmer.”

Delaney tried not to beam but nodded her head at him. He squeezed her shoulder gently and walked away with Rossi. JJ and Emily came over to check that she was okay and then quickly hugged her as she was put on a gurney in the back of the ambulance. Spencer followed her and sat next to her, gently taking her hand.

“You didn’t have to come with me, Spencer. I’ll be okay.” Delaney said, feeling extremely tired as she lay on the gurney.

“Yeah, right. Be as stubborn as you want, but there was no way I was going to leave you. You don’t need to tell me whatever it is that’s been bugging you, but I do know that the unsub triggered it tonight. And I’m not leaving you alone when you’re in that state.” Spencer said sternly, looking her directly in the eyes.

Delaney gave him a soft smile, her eyelids suddenly heavy. The doctor put an IV in her arm and it felt cold as fluids pumped through her.

“You’re… a good guy, genius.” She mumbled as her eyes shut.

She faintly heard Spencer chuckle before she passed out.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss

14 notes · View notes

gra-sonas · 4 years

Photo

A Kiss a Decade in the Making

Pairing: Malex, Alex Manes/Michael Guerin

Words: 4.8K | Rating: T | On AO3

"Is Jenna going to schedule snogging rehearsals for us?”

Alex smiles at him.

“It’s a fair question to ask. How do we, two people who’ve only just met, play two men who’ve been in love for a decade?"

Initially, the story stems from the question how the actors - who hadn't met before filming the pilot - may have worked out the 'logistics' of the Malex kiss in 1x01, and whether there was something like a snogging rehearsal. Any similarities between the characters and the actual actors are - of course - purely coincidental. ;)

A couple of dialogue snippets from the original Roswell New Mexico 1x01 script have made their way into the fic, they are displayed in a 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚗𝚝.

This fic has been sitting in my WIP folder for months and initially I had no plans to ever post it, but thanks to the wonderful encouragement and helpful beta works of @i-never-look-away & @cosmiceverafter, here it is. Love you, guys! ♥

~*~

When they get up to leave showrunner Jenna Cameron’s office, there’s a moment of hesitation as they arrive at the door at the same time. Michael takes the initiative and opens the door. He can’t help himself and bends his knee in a ridiculous half curtsy while he gestures at Alex to walk out first. Alex looks slightly bewildered for a moment but then he smiles.

“Thank you, Michael.”

Michael perks up. Not many people call him Michael, there are way too many Michaels in the world, that’s why he goes by Guerin everywhere.

“You can call me Guerin, it’s what everyone does.”

Alex nods.

“I’ll think about it. I like it though. Michael. It’s a good name. Suits you.”

He walks off and leaves a stunned Michael behind. What does that even mean, he’ll think about it? Michael’s just a name. Not a bad name, he also considers it a lucky name, after all it has landed him a role that could very well be his first leading role in a major network TV show. At least that’s what he likes to think.

For that to happen, the show just needs to get picked up to series. After reading the script and hearing Jenna talk about what she envisions, he’s even more confident that the show has great potential. If they are going to do this right, they will be picked up.

Doing it right is the thing though. He already loves Mikel Rath, sees a lot of himself in him, and a lot of things he can at least relate to. The quick wit, the anger issues, the sarcastic and funny side of him.

There’s just one thing he’s unsure about. The thing with Alistair. The Alistair & Mikel thing. He wonders what their moniker would be? Milistair? Or Alikel? Do they have to come up with one themselves, or will they leave that to the fans? He makes a mental note to ask Jenna about it.

Michael has a bunch of LGBTQ friends, he’s even part of the community himself (although he’s never acted on it, which sometimes makes him feel like he’s not allowed to claim membership), and he’s lived in LA long enough to be aware of the significance of LGBTQ representation on screen. He knows how important this relationship is going to be to many people. How important it is to get it right. From what Jenna’s just told them, she has a lot in mind for these two characters, but only if there’s going to be a show Aliens of New Mexico .

The pilot only gives them one shot at selling it. It won’t just be on their shoulders alone, of course, Liz and Max will have to do most of the heavy lifting with their characters, but he has a feeling that this Alistair and Mikel thing will still play a vital role in TV executives making a decision that could change his life forever.

Michael takes a deep breath and slowly walks back to his trailer. On the way he recalls the meeting he had with Jenna and Alex. Jenna’s awesome, he’s met her before back in LA, and she’s also responsible for hiring him. He met Alex for the first time in Jenna’s office just now, though. He hasn’t had much time to get to know the man yet.

Alex had been earnest during their meeting, notes written in the margins of his script and post-its marking some pages. He’d asked Jenna a lot of questions during their read through of the Alistair & Mikel scenes.

It had been interesting to listen to an experienced TV actor asking all these questions. Michael had never been an avid watcher of Charming Young Deceivers, but even he had heard about Gemma & Mic’s popularity. Referred to as Gemic by fans, they’d been crowned Best TV Couple in almost every online poll for several years, and Alex Manes had won three Teen Choice Awards for his portrayal of Mic, plus two others with his co-star for Best Couple. They’d also won three awards for Best Kiss. So, no pressure.

When Michael had found out that Alex Manes would play Alistair, he’d almost felt a bit giddy because he instantly knew what face went with the name.

He’d then done what he imagined most people would've done in his position: he’d gone and looked up Alex Manes in news and on social media. Since Instagram seemed to be his personal favorite, he went there first. Impressive follower count, very curated content (gorgeous photos though), cute dog (a beagle called Buffy, Alex had tagged her ‘Love of my Life’ in several photos). Alex seemed like an interesting guy who was not only very photogenic, but also had great taste in interior design, music, and he loved to travel. Michael had been looking forward to meeting him.

Then he’d read Alex’s Wikipedia entry. Like the character he was about to play, he came from a military family, his parents got divorced when Alex was in middle school and he’d grown up with his mom, while his three older brothers had stayed with their dad. He’d filmed a couple of indie movies and to Michael’s surprise, had released a number of singles. Michael’d listened to all of them and really liked them. One song had stood out to him in particular, a duet with Rosa Ortecho, a household name in the LA indie music scene. Michael was impressed.

Reading about the incident in Afghanistan, where Alex had been visiting US troops and lost part of his leg when their convoy had been attacked, had made Michael swallow hard. He’d then gone back to Alex’s Instagram account and looked through some of his more recent pictures. Now that Michael was aware of what had happened, he’d noticed a crutch in the background of some of the pictures. And there was a photo of Alex in a German military hospital, a beautiful dark-haired woman (probably his mom) by his side.

Now that they’ve met, Michael is not sure what to think of Alex, who seems to be so much more than the handful of “facts” Michael had gathered from the internet. Alex had been nothing but friendly during their meeting with Jenna, he’d often looked at Michael, had tried to include him in the conversation (it had seemed like he’d been aware that Michael didn’t come with the same kind of TV experience under his belt as he did), had asked him questions, had listened with great attention when Michael spoke.

All things considered it had been a great meeting. It had given Michael much needed input to get a better idea of the Alistair & Mikel dynamic. And yet her he is, still feeling somewhat insecure about it.

There’s one line in the pilot script that stood out to him in particular when he read the script for the first time, and it’s been nagging him ever since.

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 -- 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚛𝚎 𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶

Muscle memory springing to life? How are they going to pull that off when they barely know each other?

When Michael reaches his trailer, he looks around. Max’s trailer is to his left, Isobel’s trailer is to his right, Liz is right across from him. Valenti’s trailer’s right to Liz’s, and if memory serves him right, Alex’s trailer is to Liz’s left.

With just an idea in his mind, Michael crosses the short distance and knocks on the door of Alex’s trailer.

“Come in.”

Michael opens the door and is hit by a waft of warm air that smells rather nice. He quickly enters the trailer and closes the door behind him. He looks around and although they’ve all arrived in Albuquerque just 48 hours ago, Alex’s trailer already looks very cozy and lived in.

A set of what must be scented candles is burning, set on a wooden plate on the sideboard in front of the big mirror. Something slow and jazz-y is playing over two small speakers, and Alex, clad in gray sweat pants and a soft looking baby blue hoodie, lounges on the recliner, a beautifully patterned quilt in earthy colors draped over his lower legs.

He’s looking up at Michael, carefully placing a bookmark in the pilot episode script he'd been reading when Michael entered the trailer, before he places it on the table in front of him.

“Michael, good to see you. Can I offer you some tea?”

Michael is not much of a tea drinker, but it’s cold in Albuquerque this time of the year, and if Alex’s already offering to make tea, this could be a much-needed bonding experience. He smiles.

“That would be great, thanks. Can I help?”

His mom Mara has raised him right, he never expects people to just serve him, but Alex is already up and heads over to the small kitchen area. He busies himself with boiling water and placing cookies in a ceramic bowl. He looks over at Michael.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Are you warm enough? I can turn up the heating some more if you’re cold?”

Michael plops down on the comfy chair offered to him and shakes his head.

“Thanks, I’m naturally running hot, I’m good.”

That remark earns him a raised brow from Alex. No kidding, Alex Manes is capable of raising just one brow. It gives his face something almost diabolic for a second, until one corner of his mouth twitches and he smirks.

“You’re running hot, huh? Good to know.”

Michael blushes. He honest to god blushes. Holy shit. Is Alex Manes flirting with him? He’s not sure. Alex is so different from his group of friends and the people he’s worked with in the past. They are usually just taking the shit out of him (and vice versa). With Alex it's all new and unknown terrain.

He’s being pulled out of his thoughts when Alex returns to the table and puts a mug of steaming tea in front of him. And of course, he doesn’t just place it on the wooden table, he’s putting a coaster underneath. Because Alex Manes is a cultivated man who brings his own quilt, scented candles and fucking coasters to a 3-week-shoot in the desert.

Michal is impressed, but also intimidated. His usual crowd is loud and rambunctious, and it suits his outgoing personality perfectly. Alex is only three months older than him, but he almost feels like an insecure kid meeting a man of the world. He shakes off that mental image and waits until Alex is snuggled up under his quilt again before he takes a cookie. It’s chocolate chip, and it tastes divine .

“Holy shit, these are amazing. Where did you get them? I have to buy three boxes.”

Alex chuckles.

“I don’t usually do orders, but I can give you the recipe, they’re quite easy to make.”

Michael is in awe. He loves food more than almost anything in the world, and he knows his way around a stove or oven. He’ll figure out a way to make these cookies.

“Didn’t take you for a baker, but you sure know what you did with these. They are incredible. I’d love the recipe. I’ll send it to my mom. She’ll be so excited.”

He must’ve said the right thing, because Alex’s smile turns warm and genuine for the first time since they’ve met.

“Moms, right?”

Michael couldn’t agree more and nods enthusiastically. He picks up his mug.

“To amazing moms.”

Alex picks up his mug and toasts back.

“To amazing moms.”

They both sip some tea and for a moment the music in the background is the only sound in the trailer. Michael is careful to place his mug on its coaster before he picks up the conversation again.

“Okay, now that we’ve established that we’re both momma’s boys, I hope we can take it from there and get to know each other better and maybe build something for our Alistair and Mikel dynamic. What do you think?”

He’s nervous all of a sudden. Alex is an experienced actor, he’s been doing this professionally for more than a decade. When Michael sees Alex’s face soften, he’s feeling better immediately.

“I think that’s a great idea. There’s this one sentence in the script that shows how close they are, or at least how close they must've been at some point, and I think it would be good to find that closeness somehow. And then we’re going to show the execs what a kiss a decade in the making looks like.”

Michael laughs.

“You won’t believe it, but that’s been my thought process on my way from Jenna’s office to your trailer. I mean, Liz and Max still have the biggest responsibility to convince the higher ups, but in my opinion, Alistair and Mikel are just as important and as much of a selling point.”

Encouraged by Alex nodding in agreement, Michael continues.

"The scene you mentioned, is our springboard, that’s the moment where the audience has to realize that this isn’t just a spur of the moment thing. These two men have history. We may not know about that history yet, but it has to be clear that they know each other. It’s really helpful for me that Jenna wrote that bit about muscle memory into the script. The question is, how do we get to a point where we look like we’ve done this before? Is Jenna going to schedule snogging rehearsals for us?”

Alex bursts out laughing. On the one hand Michael’s delighted that he’s managed to make Alex laugh, on the other hand that he’s worried he’s made a stupid suggestion.

“Uhm, sorry if that was dumb. I’m just a very hands-on guy. I often approach my roles from as much of a physical perspective as I do from the emotional perspective of my character.”

Alex smiles at him.

“You didn’t say anything dumb. It’s a fair question to ask. How do we, two people who’ve only just met, play two men who’ve been in love for a decade? I want this to be every bit of convincing and true to these characters as you. In all honesty, I might have an even bigger interest in it, given that I’m part of the community who will watch this part of the show very closely.”

Michael knows that Alex is gay, in his research he’s found articles and an interview that had been released after Charming Young Deceivers ended. Media and fans alike had been in a frenzy over the coming out, especially after Alex had been part of one of the most beloved straight couples in TV history.

Michael looks at Alex as open and honest as he feels.

“I’m bi myself, so this story means a lot to me, too. I want to do it justice, and I want to do right by a community I know is marginalized in many, many ways. They - we - deserve me giving it my all. And that’s what I want to do. That’s what the script demands. And I think Alistair and Mikel have the potential to be as important and relevant as Liz and Max’s characters. Maybe even more so.”

Michael’s run out of breath at this point, something that barely ever happens, but this is important to him, and he hopes Alex understands what he means. Going by the look on Alex’s face, he does. His eyes seem to glisten, but maybe it’s just a trick of light.

Alex clears his throat and takes another sip from his mug.

“You know, I’ve had the hardest time making the decision whether to take on this role. After seven years on my previous show and coming out after we wrapped, I took a year off. I just needed a break from pretending to be someone I’m not for way too long. The media just always assumed I had to be straight because I played a straight guy on TV. I knew it was risky to come out when the show ended, it could’ve ended my career as well, but I couldn’t live the lie by omission my life had become any longer. I did a lot of soul searching and focused on myself. I was at a point where I didn’t know if I should continue to work in this business, when the accident happened. After that, I didn't know if I could continue to work in this business. I’m sure you know enough about the industry to understand how hard it is as an able-bodied, assumed-straight, assumed white male actor.”

Michael nods, he knows all too well how hard it is. He’s been driving Uber and Lyft for more than a year to make ends meet, and as a talented mechanic, he’d also done the odd car repair job for friends or people recommended to him for extra cash, he’d spent on more acting classes.

Alex puts his mug down and rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands before he looks at Michael again, his gaze intense.

“Well, after playing a straight white guy for years, people now know that Alex Manes is actually a gay man, who’s half Native American, and also disabled. I’ve worked my way up in LA for years, until my name was one casting people and show execs would recognize. Expectations were always high, but the longer Deceivers went on, the pressure to replicate the success got bigger every year, and the media wanted to be fed with the same narrative over and over again. Especially in regards to my personal life.”

Alex shakes his head, probably thinking about gossip magazine headlines questioning whether his female co-star of seven years and him were banging in real life. Michael shudders in sympathy.

“When the show ended, I just couldn’t continue and pretend to be the guy they wanted to write about. If someone had asked me one more time what my dream girl would have to be like, I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t have committed a murder. And now they know that I’m really not that guy."

Alex points at the script on the table.

“When I got this, I’d more or less made my peace with the idea of never being able to act again, while simultaneously worrying about what to do with my life instead. This role, this story, came at the right time. I read the script and I knew immediately that I wanted to play Alistair. That – to a degree – I am Alistair.”

Alex takes a steadying breath.

“I’m not going to make this about me all the time, don’t worry, but I wanted you to know where I’m coming from, and that there’s the potential that some part of my story will bleed into Alistair’s story. Mentally I’m still a bit ‘all over the place’ right now, I’m more emotional than usual, and I still struggle with the decision of having signed up for a project that could turn into yet another commitment of several years. But I think the show has the potential to be really good. For myself, and for many people like me.”

Michael gets up from his chair and walks over to the recliner. He reaches out to Alex with both arms.

“Man, would it be ok if I offer you a hug? I know I could use a hug right now. It’s ok if you don’t want, of course, but I thought I’d ask?”

Alex looks at him with big eyes, but then he untangles himself from the quilt, gets up and steps into Michael’s open arms. Michael wraps his arms around Alex’s upper body, while Alex’s arms slowly wind around Michael’s mid-section. It’s only awkward for a second, then both men give in and melt into a comforting embrace. They just stand there in the middle of Alex’s trailer for a long time, holding each other, breathing in and out in perfect sync.

They lose track of time, but eventually Alex bends back a little to look at Michael’s face from close up.

“Momma’s boys and suckers for hugs, I have a feeling, things between us are going to be just fine.”

Michael snickers.

“I’m warning you, I’m a cuddle slut. I can fall asleep on people’s shoulders, or I will sloth-hug them from behind when I’m tired. Feel free to tell me no at any time though, I know not everybody’s comfortable with that kind of invasion of their personal space.”

Alex smiles.

“Thanks, I’m trying to listen to my needs more closely. In general, I do enjoy a good hug, but sometimes it can be too much. Boundaries are hard.”

Michael nods.

“Don’t I know it. I mean, I’m not having a hard time to accept or notice other people’s boundaries, it’s more like that I often ignore my own boundaries in an effort to please everyone. Leaves me drained and exhausted, but then life demands that I’m being me again, and I never seem to have enough time and space to recharge.”

They end the hug, but when they sit down again, they do so on the recliner side by side, their knees touching. Michael’s right leg bounces.

“So, after we’ve bonded over some emotional stuff, how do we get to the muscle memory part of our characters’ connection? Kissing boot camp? I’ll admit, although I know I’m bi, I’ve never kissed a dude before. I don’t expect it to be that different from kissing a girl, but I can’t be sure. I’ve looked up your filmography and saw that you did this cool musical film where you played a seemingly gay man. How did you and your co-star approach that thing between your characters?”

Alex laughs.

“Did you see the movie?”

Michael shakes his head.

“I didn’t have the time to watch it, but I saw the trailer, and, uhm, there’s a making of clip of one rather steamy scene on YouTube, I watched that.”

Alex smirks at him.

“Did you now? Interesting. Well, in general we talked with the director of course, how they wanted the scene to go, stuff like that. We did a screen test where we kissed before the shoot. Colton’s also gay, so we both had no trouble with the ‘kissing a dude’ part. But as it is with any kiss on screen, kissing a stranger is never easy.”

Michael nods.

“Okay, that makes sense. Maybe they’re going to do a screen test with us, too? To make sure we’re compatible? Jenna didn’t mention anything, right?”

Alex shakes his head.

“No, she didn’t. I don’t think there will be a screen test. This is just a pilot, and they’re on a tight budget. They’ll expect us to knock it out of the park as soon as the cameras roll.”

Michael swallows around a lump in his throat that wasn’t there a minute ago.

“Good, that’s cool. I mean, looking at you, it’s not exactly a hardship to imagine how great it must be to kiss you. I’ll do my best to make it not awkward.”

Alex smiles at him, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. He’s careful with his next words.

“If it makes you feel better, we can do a screen test without cameras? Figure out how to embrace without colliding? I mean, we don’t have to kiss, obviously, if it makes you uncomfortable or you think it’s not necessary. But we could work out some kind of choreography and develop the ‘muscle memory’ for the kissing scene?”

Alex doesn’t look straight at Michael when he makes his proposal, only when he ends, his eyes are back on Michael with full focus. Michael feels like he’s blushing furiously, although he really hopes that isn’t the case.

“Uhm, okay, that’s a great idea actually. A choreography. I like that. I’d rather not knock you unconscious with my thick skull just because we both go for the same side.”

Alex laughs and stands up again. He holds his hand out to Michael.

“Come on then, let’s try.”

Michael takes Alex’s hand and lets himself get pulled up into a standing position. Alex doesn’t release his hand, so Michael follows him to the middle of the trailer where they have enough space to move around without bumping into furniture. Alex takes one more step until they stand opposite from each other.

“Is there anything off limits with what you’re comfortable with? Like, do I have to know about any particularly ticklish spots, is it ok to touch your hair? That kind of stuff.”

Michael thinks about it for a second, then he shakes his head.

“I can’t think of anything. How about you?”

Alex shakes his head.

“I’m pretty ticklish, but I don’t think you’re going to tickle me. Should we just act out the scene like it’s in the script and see how it goes?”

Michael nods. He picks up his script from where he’d placed it on the table earlier and quickly reads through the instructions for the scene’s set-up.

“Okay, why don’t you take the chair from over there, and I enter from the kitchen area?”

Alex nods in agreement. He pulls out the chair from under the desk and props up his right leg on the seat. He pulls up the leg of is sweatpants and pretends to adjust something on his prosthesis.

Michael’s stepped back into the kitchen area and looks at Alex. His hair is tousled and he looks warm and slightly flushed. For a moment, Michael glances at the metal of Alex’s leg reflecting the light, but then he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He’s Mikel Rath now. An alien who’s lived in this town for ten years while the love of his life went to war. They are not on good terms, but there’s still love.

A love that’s been tested over and over again, but never went away. Michael opens his eyes and looks at Alex. Alex, who’s Alistair Jessup now, a decorated war veteran. Not the same person Mikel fell in love with a decade ago. Not a boy anymore. Alistair is a man now. But the love, oh the love, it's burning just as bright as the first day he’d laid eyes on him.

Mikel takes a step forward into the room, as per description “belt buckle first”.

"𝙽𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚒𝚊’𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑, 𝚑𝚞𝚑."

Alistair adjusts the leg of his pants and puts his foot back on the ground. He looks at Mikel, his eyes dark and questioning. He sighs.

"𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙸𝚛𝚊𝚚, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎."

Mikel feels embarrassed all of a sudden. Alistair is right, it’s been ten years and he’s still stuck in the same place, wasting his life, just like Alistair said earlier. But then Alistair doesn’t know why he never left, what kept him in their hometown, or rather who. Mikel is tired, and his shoulders drop. He sounds resigned.

"𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎. 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝? 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘?"

Alistair shakes his head, he also looks tired, his eyes are hollow.

"𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛."

The ‘what I want never mattered’ is hanging like an unspoken truth between them. Mikel takes a step forward, his eyes on Alistair. Alistair in return, takes one step in Mikel’s direction. They are close now. Very close. They look at each other, their eyes telling an entire story while they remain quiet.

When they both start moving at the same time, there’s no need to figure out a choreography. Mikel’s arms reach for Alistair’s head, his fingers slotting around his neck just so, while Alistair’s hands go underneath Mikel’s arms and wrap around Mikel’s torso. They both pull the other in until there’s no space left between them. Mikel takes another breath before he closes the last inch of distance between them and their lips meet in a searing kiss.

They are swaying back and forth, their lips pressing firmly against each other. They are Alistair and Mikel for a long moment, until Mikel Rath slowly turns back into Michael Guerin and Alistair fades back into Alex Manes, and now it’s them kissing all of a sudden, and no longer the characters they are supposed to play.

Michael doesn’t know how to stop. He doesn’t want to. He’s holding onto Alex’s face and looks at him like he’s searching for something. When he sees what he’s been hoping to find, he closes his eyes and lets his lips go soft, his mouth turning into a pliant invitation

When he feels Alex’s tongue nudging at his lower lip, he opens his mouth and lets him in.

#malex fic #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #my fic #rnm 1x01 #rnm fic

31 notes · View notes

theforestofeden · 5 years

Text

Isabella and The Others- Missing Person

Word Count: 2045

Summary: Jem and Dalilah do some detective work.

Warnings!: none! It’s a chill chapter.

Weeks passed by since the last time she got a true update from the Missing Persons Task Force. Weeks had passed since anyone talked with Nick. As far as anyone could tell whatever his mouth said was true. All the evidence matched up. This brought Dalilah and the rest of her team to a deeply somber belief—the next body they found would be in pieces and torn up. On her way to get coffee, Dalilah passed by Jem's office. She could hear him talking with the Ontario Police Department. She backed up and stopped at the door frame.

"Just fax the information to us." He sighed.

"Can't. We don't have a fax machine. It's broke." One of Pasadena's detectives replied.

"Can you have someone send the files over?"

"Yeah if we want to get in trouble for taking three hours from the department."

"What if I go over there? Our lawyers need to view the evidence Mark." Jem resisted the urge to hang up.

"Fine by me but I go on break in and hour."

Jem ran his hands through his curly hair and hung the phone up. He focused on Dalilah and rolled his eyes. "You'd think the departments would be coordinated. However that is not the case."

"How many departments have you called so far?" Dalilah leaned against the door frame and dipped in her coffee. She would have offered him one, but a cup was already sitting on his desk.

"Two and both of them are refusing to make my job easier." He threw his head back dramatically.

"I'm almost finished compiling evidence-"

"When you're done do you want to come with me? I have to stop by Pasadena, and Culver." He smiled tiredly. He knew she hated long car rides, but he hated long car rides by himself.

"I was just about to offer. Who knows when your ass needs saving again." He shooed her away and she left laughter trailing behind her.

It was 4:56 p.m when Dalilah finished sending her paper work over to the District Attorney's office. She felt sorry for whoever stepped up to be Nick's lawyer. The last one almost lost his job due to bad media representation. It was 5:55 p.m when she got bored sitting in Jem's office. Listening to a one way conversation was as frustrating as watching a muted movie. Dalilah shuffled through the papers on his desk. Making stacks of finished and not finished paperwork. As Jem spoke he indicated what papers should be left alone with a point of his index finger. He flipped his wrist over to read the time on his watch.

"What's the story?" Dalilah motioned to the watch on Jem's wrist. It looked brand new and expensive, yet she knew how much her partner was making. It wasn't enough to spend a couple grand at a drop of a hat.

"My dad passed it to me. Said I finally became a man and a man needed to look good while knowing the time." Jem shrugged and stuffed the rest of his burger into his mouth. "Supposedly it's a heirloom."

"It look great on you." She smiled.

Dalilah recalled one of the first comfortable conversations they had had together. Til this day she still wanted that watch. It was a Notre Dame watch, real leather and a hand designed clockwork encased by sliver.

"I'll see you soon then Lorelai." The phone call ended and Dalilah stood up quickly. She was ready to get out of here. The room had quieted down for a single moment and Nick's psychotic laughter had swept through her mind again.

"Can I drive?" Jem's tone of voice raised in a hopeful manner.

"Yeah," Dalilah began, "your own car." She watched him go from excited to disappointed. Laughing she tossed him the keys to the Nova. "Today's you'r lucky day James."

He ignored the formal use of his name and shouted, "Whoo!" He caught them with one hand and headed out to the car with a bounce in his step.

Once Dalilah slid into the passenger seat she leaned slightly over to Jem. "Don't dog her out James."

"Jem," he corrected her, "and I won't." The familiar sound of the engine filled their heads.

It was dark out and by now Dalilah had reclaimed her rightful spot in the car. They were parked under a street lamp outside of a fast food place. Opting to stay in the car the detectives were reading over the files retrieved from Ontario, Long Beach and Pasadena police departments. The dash board and back seat were covered in confidential papers. The window had a small map taped up. The only things that didn't don a white cover were their laps. Burger wrappers took that place. Dalilah flipped through file and made a frustrated noise. "You asked for missing persons reports from 1985 to 1995. You'd think they would have the competence to do that." She slid the file onto the floor with the others that wouldn't do their case any good. Jem snorted and rolled his eyes. Once they had set aside the obvious people who didn't fit into Miranda Commons' profile they both turned their attention to the map. It had red, green, blue and black markings centralized the west part of it. The black indicated the places the missing women were seen last. The red showed Nick's routine, and the green showed discrete areas. The blue marked where Isabella's and Carina's bodies were found. Jem was grateful for the intel Isabella Kim's case gave them. They were able to map out a routine based on what Natasha provided, bank transcripts, and his over all paper trial. It stretched from Los Angeles to Pasadena with a eight mile radius circling it. Compared to their offices this was a scale replica. The map that hung in Dalilah's office only incorporated the missing women in Los Angeles. It was weeks old, but the number of women who were potential matches dwindled down to five. Once they would transfer tonight's work onto that map the number of women would increase to ten. One hundred women would have been casted aside.

"What if we expand the radius? A few of these girls are just outside of it." Jem pointed to a few pictures of women on his lap. "These girls were in populated areas. They're too far from wood or a back road for somebody without a car to travel and get his goal accomplished. Plus logistics already expanded the radius by 3 miles to incorporate the victims running away." Dalilah pointed to the wooded areas and back-roads. They were in the opposite direction of the girls by a good 9 miles.

"Why only three? They're running for their lives, I would assume they would go farther."

"Nick wasn't the best at running and the women he killed weren't either. He would let them run but he knew better than to get a girl who can actually run. Besides there hasn't been evidence of the body being dragged or moved to support the hypothesis that Nick moved the body further. At least that's what I think why." Dalilah explained. Jem nodded and continued shifting through the files. Dalilah stuffed the last bite of her burger into her mouth. She held up her index finger signaling for Jem to give her a minute. She stepped out of the car and begin walking around. Being cooped up wasn't ideal. She needed to stretch her legs. The sound of her phone ringing bounced off of the fast-food joint's building.

"This is detective Holland," she answered. She turned towards the car when she heard the low volume of music drift out of it. It definitely wasn't rock music. She could see Jem snickering. She turned back around.

"Oh thank god you answered. I wasn't sure if you were awake or not." Dalilah recognized the groggy voice as Stephanie Romano's.

"Don't worry about me not being awake. You can call whenever." This was something Dalilah provided the victims family— someone who they could count on.

"I remembered something," she started, "I woke up from a dream, but it wasn't made up. I-it was my memories." She sounded as if she was still trying to piece together information. "It's been so long I had forgotten about her friend Nick. He's a little weird. One day he would be sweet and polite and the next he would be blunt and sarcastic."

Dalilah walked back to the car, "Do you remember his last name?"

Jem turned off the music and listened in on the conversation. Through pieces he figured out who the caller was.

"No, but it started with a 'B'," Stephanie said softly. She sighed and fell silent for a short moment. "I'm not sure if this is the greatest help, but it'll do right?" She sounded unsure of herself.

"It'll definitely do. Thank you Mrs.Romano for calling me." With an exchange of good nights the phone call ended.

Jem looked curiously at Dalilah, but it faded when he started talking.

"I got a call from the head on the field search team. Richard said the last K-9 unit came back and reported the low-profile sites in La were clear. The units will meet back up once everyone is well rested and start up in Pasadena."

Dalilah ran her hand through her hair. "Then I guess we start our door-to-door routine tomorrow."

They both reached to take down the map. Jem took over and left Dalilah to take care of collecting the files and creating stacks. It was midnight when the impala's order was restored. Tonight hadn't been their longest night, yet it felt like it.

"Remember when you sad I could crash at your place if I didn't want to drive home?" Jem asked.

"Consider my bed yours tonight." Dalilah answered.

He smiled softly and turned his head to watch the trees pass by the window. They mimicked his thoughts—passing by so fast they were all just a blur.

The first few times he crashed at her place he would insist he take the couch. Now he just accepted her hospitality knowing she wouldn't let him take anything but the bed. Dalilah let Jem lead himself to her room. She handed him a stack of clothes to change into.

"I've been looking for these." He laughed softly and took the shirt and boxers.

"If you took your clothes home-" she laughed with him.

"If I did that then crashing here would be pointless."

Dalilah shook her head and grabbed a pair of clothes herself. She disappeared into the living room leaving Jem to himself. The couch was comfortable and easy to sleep on. That wasn't the problem for Dalilah. Her problem was her mind going a hundred miles an hour on a road with a speed limit of 35. She gave up trying to sleep. Tossing and turning was getting annoying, so she turned on the tv. She may have been an educated adult, but Nick at Nite still entertained her. It was probably 3 a.m. when Jem joined her in the living room. He came in silently and sat down on the floor with his back against the couch. No one talked. No one moved. Being with somebody else who understood the work was enough to feel like everything was going to be okay even if nothing worked out.

#Crime #true crime #Crime Mystery #crimefiction #new author #new story

34 notes · View notes

1wngdngl · 5 years

Text

Avengers: Endgame - final thoughts

So, I saw Avengers: Endgame for the second time on July 1. And ever since then, I’ve been meaning to post my full review. You might be wondering, what took so long? Well, I had a review all ready the night I came back from the theater, but Tumblr ate it, and it took a while for me to regain the motivation to type it up again. And then I wanted to make sure it was a really good, super-detailed review, so it took even longer. End result being that it’s now two months later later, so who knows if anyone even cares anymore ;) But I’m sharing it anyway, so it doesn’t feel like a complete waste of time.

(Keep in mind this review was largely written before Spider-Man: Far From Home and the SDCC came around to muddy the waters, so nothing past Endgame is mentioned.)

I think I actually liked this movie better the second time I saw it. I enjoyed it the first time, certainly, but the first time I was so concerned about what the movie might be like, what might happen next, who would live or die, how the whole saga would be concluded, that I wasn’t fully able to be in the moment. And when you go into a movie with that attitude, and with a wishlist of things you want to see, it’s easy to feel slightly disappointed when an item doesn’t get checked off your list.

But when I saw Endgame the second time, I already knew what was going to happen, so I was able to relax more and just appreciate everything – the action, the humor, the music, the characters, everything. To quote Thor, I was able to appreciate the movie for what it was, not for what it was “supposed” to be.

One thing I especially appreciated this time was the sheer variety the movie presented, in the tone, the characters, and the settings. Both Infinity War and Endgame are long movies that feel much shorter, but they achieve that in different ways. Infinity War was near non-stop action and dramatic reversals, so you never had time to get bored. In contrast, Endgame has a lot more quiet moments and mundane interactions. It’s almost like a mini-series of half-hour episodes, each with its own tone and setting.

I really like how Endgame opens, with something as simple as Clint spending time with his family. It really cut me when he looked away for a moment and all his family disappeared. The opening emphasizes that, however long it may have been for the audience since seeing Infinity War, for the characters it’s a fresh tragedy. The “Porch” musical theme from the end of Infinity War shows up here too, linking the two movies together (it’d be amazing to watch them back-to-back sometime).

The somber mood continues with Tony out in space, desperately trying to get home. When he finally does, he’s relieved to find Pepper still alive, but that doesn’t make everything better (and of course, he hasn’t exactly forgiven Steve yet either). With the help of Nebula and Captain Marvel, a group goes to hunt down Thanos, hoping they can use the Stones themselves to bring back the Snapped. But of course, Thanos has already destroyed the Stones, and there’s no getting them back, ever.

When Thor chopped off Thanos’s head mid-sentence, it was very satisfying, but of course that didn’t actually fix anything – even Thor realizes this within five seconds. This whole section of the movie is like a delayed climax from Infinity War, and has an even greater sense of finality and failure than the dusting itself.

When I first saw the words “Five…Years…Later” appear on screen, I was really startled. That the writers would let this world and the Avengers spend five years wallowing in their failure. It probably shouldn’t be surprising that most of them stepped down from hero business in the interim. Out of everyone, I actually think Bruce handled the post-apocalypse the best, finally able to achieve self-acceptance and inner peace. On the flip side is Thor, who seems to feel the most personally responsible for the tragedy – if only he had gone for the head the first time! – and who spends every day drinking himself senseless so he doesn’t have to think about it. Tony seems content to hide out in his lake cabin with his wife and daughter, not getting involved in the problems of the larger world. Natasha buries herself in work, and Steve seems to just drift aimlessly. And Clint…His despair sends him into darkness and violence, and I wonder if his previous crimes when he was being mind-controlled made it the tiniest bit easier to fall into that darkness.

If you look at the “going after Thanos in the garden” part as a prologue, then the whole “living with failure” is the start of the first act. Everyone is just trying to make do, carry on the best way they know how. This part of the movie is very subdued, almost mundane, and mostly consists of characters exchanging dialogue, absent of action, of music, of life. But the whole of the MCU has done so much work in developing these characters that even just watching them interact is interesting. They no longer feel like actors, just people playing off each other in the most natural way. They feel like old friends, both to each other and the audience, friends who are going through a tough time.

The inciting incident, the moment things start to change, is when Ant-Man arrives. He’s the one who brings hope and humor back into the movie. He hasn’t had to live through years in this ruined world, so he still has optimism that they can fix things. You know, when he first suggested time travel, I was a bit nervous since a lot of movies don’t handle time travel very well. But the “time heist”, as it’s called, may be my favorite part of the movie.

So we move into the second act, where the Avengers split up and go after the Infinity Stones in different time periods. This section is a lot more “fun” than the previous scenes, as the characters re-visit moments from past movies, making the heist into a sort of “MCU in Review”. But these scenes aren’t just cut-and-pasted from their original movies – instead we get to look at them from different angles, see what was happening just offscreen, and see characters who wouldn’t even make their first appearance until later, like seeing the Ancient One and Brock Rumlow during the Battle in New York.

With multiple time-travel groups, the movie cuts quickly between them, so you’re never quite sure where or when you’ll get to see next. Again, the sheer number of characters in this movie is amazing – nearly everyone from Infinity War, plus time travel allows even more characters to show up. Sure, many appearances are just cameos, but the level of logistical planning that all these scenes must’ve involved just boggles the mind.

Not only does the time travel let viewers revisit parts of the MCU, it also allows the main three Avengers (Tony, Steve, and Thor) to reach some closure with their past. Tony and Thor get to have proper goodbyes with their parents; Steve’s closure has to wait until the end of the movie, but is worth the wait.

The time heist is mostly just fun at first, but slowly things start to go wrong. First Natasha dies, then Nebula is captured and replaced by her own past self, who finds a way to bring the nightmare of Thanos back into everyone’s lives. To be honest I wasn’t sure if or how he would be relevant to the movie again after being killed right at the start, so this twist really caught me off-guard. The moment Thanos’s ship opens fire and destroys the Avengers Compound is one of the most startling in the movie, jolting events right into the third act.

The final battle is very complex and would take a long time to properly break down. Seeing Thanos’s army of Leviathans, Outriders, the Black Order, and more as a single unified force – it’s almost as exciting as seeing the heroes all assembled. The moment where all the dusted heroes show up on the battlefield, to the “Portals” theme, may be the most emotionally stirring moment in the series. The power level on each side is unfathomable; and when it all ends and the bad guys fade away into dust – first the legion, and then finally, finally Thanos himself – I felt a real vindictive satisfaction that he got what he deserved, that this time it was the Avengers who had the last laugh.

I know some people were angry about how Tony Stark died, but really, what better end for a character can you ask for? He saved the whole universe, and had a grand funeral with many attendees – many of whom didn’t even like him personally, but recognized the debt they owe him. The part at the end where Happy is trying to comfort Tony’s cute daughter, who is too young to completely understand what’s going on…Priceless. In the very first Iron Man movie, Yinsen told Tony “Don’t waste your life”, and I think he’d be proud.

The first time I saw Endgame, I wasn’t sure how I felt about Steve and Thor’s endings, but on a second viewing I felt much better about them. Steve, after all his sacrifice, living the superhero life non-stop, finally got to have the life he wanted with Peggy. Thor wasn’t able to get back any of the friends or family he lost, but he finally got over his guilt and depression, and left with the Guardians to have a new adventure. I think they will all get along well ;)

[another thing that made this second viewing fun – I sat next to a family who was seeing it for the first time, and the kids were very animated in their reactions to all the big moments, action, and jokes, so that made it more special for me too. I love seeing other people react to something I already know and enjoy.]

Addendum:

Like I said, all of the above was written several months ago, and I haven’t yet seen Spider-Man: Far From Home and have generally not looked into any Marvel news since then. Truth is, I’m extremely nervous about the future of the MCU. I know the studio can’t rest on their laurels, and so have to keep making movies, but personally I’d be happy if the MCU was truly done with Endgame. Not that I think everything after that will be junk, but because Endgame provided such a satisfying conclusion that I’m afraid future entries will just confuse things, or reduce that sense of closure. “Stop when things are at their best,” is what I believe. Otherwise you risk undoing the specialness of the story by repeating yourself, making accidental (or deliberate) retcons, or by losing the thread of a character’s arc and treating them more as a marketable commodity than a person.

But! I have a strategy prepared – if future entries after the Infinity Saga don’t capture that same wonder, don’t spark the same interest in me, I’m prepared to view them as expensive fanfiction, and be satisfied with the perfect, complete story that Marvel already gave us :)

#movies #marvel #mcu #avengers #avengers: endgame #reviews

1 note · View note

thecomicsnexus · 5 years

Photo

CAMELOT 3000 (PART 3 OF 3) DECEMBER 1982 - APRIL 1985 BY MIKE W. BARR, BRIAN BOLLAND, BRUCE D. PATTERSON, DICK GIORDANO, TERRY AUSTIN AND TATJANA WOOD

SYNOPSIS (CHAPTERS 9 TO 12)

King Arthur tells Tom the story of the Holy Grail. It is supposed to perform miracles, for it was twice associated with Jesus Christ. First the holy communion, and then, in the moment of his Crucifixion, someone used to to collect his blood. Percival prays to get a hint of where it is and he finds out it was in Glastonbury Tor after all. To prevent Morgan from learning this secret, all of them start wearing a cloaking charm.

Morgan reveals to Jordan his role. She makes him remember his old life, a baby, being drown by King Arthur (Arthur thought a son of his would pose a threat to his throne). Jordan remembers he was Modred.

In New Camelot, Arthur divides the group, one will search for the Holy Grail and the other one will search for Merlin.

Percival finds the guardian of the Holy Grail and discovers that he has holy blood. With the grail in his hands, he saves Tom’s life, but then transfigures, leaving Lancelot as the guardian of the Grail. In just a few panels he loses the Grail to the enemy. Jordan, in possession of the Grail, starts giving Morgan orders.

Jordan makes an armor with the Grail embedded in it. He is now immune to everything. He starts killing all the world leaders.

Arthur and some knights travel to the tenth planet in a spaceship. Lancelot, Guinevere and Tom got to the nuclear plant to ask the lady in the lake (Elaine) to send them to the tenth planet. Everyone is on the tenth planet now.

On Earth, King Arthur is considered a traitor. The propaganda machine is blaming him for the murder of the world leaders. Isolde finds out that Jordan is allied to Morgan La Fey and sens a message to the spaceship. When Tom sees the message, he sees that Isolde sends her love to Tristan. He burns that part of the message. Arthur and the knights, led by the women, are sent to meet the queen of the alien race. They make an alliance to free them in exchange of soldiers.

Tristan once again has to deal with McAllister, this time she learns that only Morgan Le Fay’s magic can kill him, she uses the talisman against him (the one that is supposed to make her go back to being a man). Now with it destroyed, she wants to end her life, but Tom tries to convince her that being a woman cannot be “that bad”.

The knights use the ship as a battering ram. In the middle of the fight, Galahad sacrifices, blowing up the ship, to make an entrance to the castle. Arthur faces Jordan and Lancelot tells him that the holy armor is incompatible with Merlin (son of the devil), he then pushes Jordan into Merlin and this ends his life.

Morgan Le Fay tries one more attack. Merlin transports the rest home, while he takes care of Morgan. He detonates a neutron bomb, sacrificing himself to put an end to Morgan.

Back on Earth. Tristan and Isolde try to rekindle their love. Tristan starts learning how to love her in this form (and she finally seems happy).

Guinevere is pregnant (they do not know if it’s Arthur’s or Lancelot, both of them hope it’s Arthur’s).

Some time later, we see an alien escaping bad guys, he finds a sword in the stone and the cycle begins anew.

CONTEXT (FROM WIKIPEDIA)

Barr came up with the concept of Camelot 3000 in approximately 1975, having been inspired by a college course he took in Arthurian literature. He submitted the proposal to DC Comics several years later, only to have it rejected. He then submitted it to Marvel Comics, where it was accepted for serialized publication in one of their black-and-white magazines, but for unknown reasons the project did not get off the ground at this point. The Camelot 3000 concept was resubmitted to DC the following year, and this time was accepted. DC decided to run it as a maxi-series. Barr enlisted Dr. Sally Slocum, the teacher of the course which first inspired Camelot 3000, as a creative consultant for the series.

Camelot 3000 was British artist Bolland's first major work in the USA. At the time the logistics of transatlantic collaborations were difficult, and the series was created using the full script method in part because it was the easiest way for Barr and Bolland to work together while an ocean separated them. This was also the first time that Bolland's work was inked regularly by someone other than himself. Bolland was not comfortable with this and made his pencils very heavily detailed in order to leave the inker as little room for creative reinterpretation as possible. This, combined with Bolland's personal goal to top himself with each new issue, made it difficult for him to keep up with the series's monthly schedule, and the last several issues were late. Barr recounted that Bolland spent nine months drawing the final issue.

Barr originally had the role of Tom Prentice filled by a girl, but editor Len Wein strongly felt that the character should be a boy. Though the series's exploration of gender identity themes (and presumed homosexuality) was published without opposition from DC's editorial staff, Barr recalled that Camelot 3000 received a number of letters from children who were confused and/or upset by this content.

The series also briefly experimented with reproducing art directly from the pencils (i.e. without inking). However, printing techniques at the time were still relatively primitive, and Bolland found that creating pencil art which could be reproduced by the printers was more work than actually inking it. As such, only two pages (specifically, the first two pages of issue #2) were produced in this manner.

REVIEW

As you may have imagined, this story doesn’t take place in the DCU (there is, however, an Arthur, Morgan and Merlin in the DCU). I would have to say that this maxi-series was ground-breaking. Not only because it was part of the “British invasion”, it was the first of its kind and proved it was possible, and it also explored themes like gender identity. Some people have problems with it, and I can understand it (as Tristan ends up accepting her forced gender). But you also have to see that Tristan wasn’t a good man before. I think in the context of this story it’s ok. Also have in mind two things, it was 1982, and this man, as well as all the knights, belonged to the Middle Ages.

As an extension of the Arthurian legend, you just have to accept this is a sci-fi comic-book. But it has very interesting points of view. I think the moment Arthur is flying over England and finally gets to see it from space is a very powerful scene.

I think it’s a great story and YOU SHOULD READ IT. I think it would also work well as a movie, but I don’t think the world is ready for something like this. It would probably flop.

Bolland’s art is obviously the best of this series. I cannot imagine it being so important without him. Of course, the last issues took years to complete, let’s say I am happy to have all issues at my disposal now, but at the time it was probably very annoying for readers (kind of like how we feel waiting for the last issues of Doomsday Clock).

There are some things that are barely touched in the story. Arthur at some point killed a lot of babies... that’s not how a savior acts. These characters are not perfect, it is implied that there was a lot of raping and adultery in their previous lives (it’s a bit like Game of Thrones).

Sure, there are some things that don’t make sense. Like the ship getting to the tenth panel very fast because it travels at the speed of light (even at the speed of light it would take years to get there).

But the story keeps twisting and surprising you. I read this story for the first time five years ago, and I forgot almost everything... but Tristan’s story. I think that is the conflict that you will remember for the rest of your life.

I give this series a score of 10

#brian bolland #camelot 3000 #camelot #king arthur #holy grail #merlin #dc comics #comics #review #1982 #1983 #1984 #1985 #modern age #gender identity #transgender #lgbtqi

6 notes · View notes

bts-love-sweat-tears · 6 years

Text

Julie’s Love Yourself Concert Diary

Concert Date: September 29, 2018

Written: September 30, 2018

Warnings: I curse more than I should?

Words: 3,330ish-added a few things at the last minute (phew!)

A/N:

[Update: Tumblr couldn’t upload all my photos that I spent awhile choosing and placing, so I’m going to have to pare it down. Sorry bbs! I opted to cut my personal & merch photos in favor of the boys]

So I have one thousand and one things I should be working on-for school, for work, for my eventual job hunt. But instead I am going to write about last night’s experience while it was still fresh in my mind. I was thinking of doing a song-by-song play-by-play, but you can look up the setlist on Wikipedia, so instead I am going to talk about the things that jumped out at me. WARNING: This is essentially one giant spoiler, so I will try to put a “Read More” cut, though it’s been being weird for me lately. So scroll carefully if you’re going to a later date and don’t want to know. All photos taken on my (now ancient) iPhone 6, so I tried to choose the best ones). Will edit as I see typos I made.

I’m a little nervous since I usually write fiction instead of sharing my personal experience. Anyway, full disclosure that this is just my perspective, and I’m (always) happy to discuss things (civilly) if you disagree with me. <3 Photos and opinions are mine.- please don’t re-post anywhere else.

The Background/ Pulling a Namjoon and Leaving my Ticket at Home

Even though I was going to the Saturday show, I flew into LaGuardia using frequent flyer miles on Friday morning. I was staying with a friend in Queens, so I went straight to her apartment. I’m a grad student as most of you probably know at this point, so I spent most of Friday working on a paper that was due. I had two friends I met at last year’s concert going to the Friday concert, and they went for merch promptly at 9, but I had just arrived and had a deadline to meet for school. Around 4:30PM, I decided that I was done for the day and opened Ticketmaster to print my ticket for the next day’s show. When I logged in, I saw the notice that the ticket had been mailed to me. I remembered having seen that when I bought the ticket in May, but in my defense I was jet-lagged and ill on that day. Furthermore, I moved to and from NYC in that time for a summer internship, and SO MUCH HAD HAPPENED. The tickets had been mailed while I was living here and I had never seen them, so somehow it slipped my mind. Obviously I lived too far away, but I didn’t know if I could express overnight them, but I think when I called Ticketmaster, the old ones were deactivated when the guy tried to send me the link.

Anyway, print at home was not an option, so I called Ticketmaster and in a panic explained my situation. They said it happened all the time and offered to send me a link. Luckily I kept the rep on the line, because it turned out that even they couldn’t email a link because of the anti-scalpers/fraud/whatever.

Then the rep said that I could show the credit card, but I had literally cut it up the week prior since the Vendor (e.g. the store that the card was through) had switched their card to a different bank (e.g. Visa to Mastercard), so I seemed shady af, even though I was telling the truth. He said as long as I had a login to a statement showing the transaction (I didn’t, since they had opted to close the account at an institutional level). So I called my mom frantically, and luckily she is the hyper-organized type who keeps paper copies of everything and sent them to me. Seriously, Mom for the win! I run to this print shop as it’s closing and print everything out. I had the Ticketmaster receipt & order #, and two photo ID’s confirming my address. The guy said it should be fine, but I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. This was my one birthday gift and something I had been looking forward to for months. Anyway, my friend and I went out to a local bar near the Halsey (yes, the singer took her name from the station) stop on the L line, and I was super anti-social because I was so upset. I also burst a blood vessel in my eye (it will heal, no worries) because of too much birthday partying the prior weekend, so I’m sure I was a (sour) sight to behold.

I slept poorly for obvious reasons, and left the apartment around 7AM, and arrived to Prudential center around 8:30ish. There were only a few people outside of will call, but the GA line was already wrapped around the building. I made small talk with people outside of the box office, and one woman told me she had gotten soundcheck both days. Seriously, what kind of karma do I need for that to happen to me? She and her friends had been camping out since Thursday, and they were SUPER organized: while she waited in line, one was at merch, and someone else was holding their GA site. I almost wondered if they were a fansite or something. ARMY are a truly organized bunch (except for me, clearly).

Anyway, after another half hour of pure anxiety, they opened up will call and I was panicking, but they were really helpful and gave me my ticket after I verified the order number, showed my id and confirmed some other personal data. I decided then and there that nothing else mattered and I was just happy to be there and be in.

Waiting in line/Logistics/Staff

I left the box office, and got into the GA line. It was probably around 9:15, and the line had already doubled-back on itself all the way around the building. The woman from earlier told me that her friend had got #1000 and was only 3 rows back, so I still had some hope. Basically, you line up to get your spot in line- though it’s kinda dumb that you have to line up twice, it makes security go faster and guarantees that there isn’t a huge surge/stronger people cutting in line later.

I wore what I thought were my most comfortable shoes, but after standing on concrete for hours, I don’t think it makes a difference. People were so friendly though- I never once felt awkward even though I was by myself. The same was true last year- the friends who had gone up for merch on Friday I met while in line at last years’ Wings concert. I chatted with people around me, drank the two bottles of water I had, and looked at my phone. Bring an umbrella for shade and sunscreen though-I didn’t and am rocking a nice farmers burn/tan today. It wasn’t humid though, and it wasn’t raining, so it could have been so much worse.

Even though there were tons of people, everyone was well-behaved. I didn’t see any altercations, though as the day went on the staff seemed a bit overwhelmed with crowd control. I didn’t see too many people selling unofficial merch like last year, though I did buy a few necklaces (Joon and Chim, ofc).

After 3.5 hours, I finally got my wristband. They told us to be back by 2pm to line up for real, as they were going to try to open the doors at 3 instead of 3:30 (didn’t end up happening).

Merch

I then ran to merch, but there wasn’t much left. The fans/pickets were selling out as I got in line, and people were basically yelling “NOOOOOOOO” everytime the staff put up a “SOLD OUT” sticker. I bought what I could that was left, including a bracelet, which I’m actually in love with, the eco-tote (super overpriced tbh, $50 for a canvas bag), but the shopper bags were gone and I needed something to carry the box and batteries V3 ARMY Bomb I bought. I had one from last year that I also forgot, but I think the new version was cool because they are synced up with the music so you can change colors and patterns along with everyone else. Overall, it’s EXPEN$$$$IVE, but if anyone’s worth it, it’s Bangtan.

Newark

I was getting super tired after this, so I kinda passed on the photo studio table, big poster, and UNICEF stuff. I tried to go to Starbucks, but even though it was the middle of the day, I didn’t feel that safe, even though it was like 11:45 in the middle of the day. I’m a 27 year old who’s lived in Latin America (which is generally stereotyped for violence), solo traveled around the world, and I’m from the Rust Belt (aka home of true urban decay), but that part of Newark sketched me the heck out. Probably it would have been fine, but I opted for caution, and went to a Dunkin Donuts and empanada place right around the corner. The timing was actually good since we had to get back pretty quickly to line back up.

The second line was where the staff struggled, telling people to back up and get in order, but it seemed like staff were doing different things. Plus, if they wanted people to back up, they should have created room at the back first, before telling the front to basically “back that ass up” on the people behind them.

GA vs. Seated

I can say this- if you are short, you probably want a seat. Or if you have any kind of knee, back, or joint problems- I stood for approximately 14 straight hours on concrete yesterday. I am just under 5”5” but I was probably one of the taller people in the crowd, so I had a pretty good view. Even though they asked people to not take videos or record, you WILL be looking through a sea of cell phones. I could see pretty well, but sometimes when they were on the main stage I had a hard time seeing around other people’s arms.

Last time I had P2 seated, and the view was wonderful. I went to the bathroom, charged my phone, and ate nachos (lol), so it was generally a more chill experience. I was still super close but up a little higher and could see absolutely everything. But last night I was SO close I could see Joon’s dimples irl, and got splashed by both Jungkook and J-Hope when they threw the water bottles. Probably 100 people think this, but I’m also pretty sure Yoongi (and maybeeee Jimin) saw me jumping and singing along like crazy since I was one of the taller people. At the very least, Yoongi keep looking in the general direction I was in. Ofc I looked gross af with my messed up eye and crazy hair, but what I loved about the concert is that I was 100% able to forget all the insecurities I carry around with me on a day to day basis and have an AMAZING time.

Of course the whole place is crazy high energy, but I feel like last night was INSANELY high. I’m not sure if it was the overall vibe or if that was the GA influencing my opinion. It just depends on what kind of experience you want to have. Also, if you are claustrophobic, you should probably pass on GA. The guards kept forcing people to back up, at one point even coming in with a flashlight, and people would surge forward whenever a member came close. But someone said the night before was chill, so maybe it’s just luck of the draw.

The Show

The show was absolutely amazing. They opened with IDOL, which got people hyped from the get-go. Their dancing was ON POINT as always. People were chanting during the intro videos and chatting as it filled in, so it was a great vibe once again- just super happy feeling. The audio visual part was AMAZING, though I’m no pro, and I loved all of the concert outfits, especially Jimin’s super sparkly sweater. Lots of jumping, and lots of screams. I didn’t have earplugs and was fine, but if you’re sensitive to loud sounds I definitely recommend them. ISTG I remembered hearing a mashup of FIRE, but maybe not? Wikipedia seems to think not. But they played a few older ones too, which made me so soft and nostalgic.

More on the members during the concert

Kim Namjoon

Ok, this is so so so biased, let me start with that. If you’ve followed me for any amount of time, you know how much I love this man. Seeing him smiling and happy was amazing. And they had a professional translator for this concert, so I felt like Joon was able to relax a little and enjoy himself instead of worrying about translating for everyone else. He is just as tall and proportional as everyone says he is. Everyone talks about how soft he is these days (and I love it), but he has undeniable charisma when he raps. Plus him in sunglasses, ddaeng. Seeing him so close was akin to something spiritual for me (I SAW THE DIMPLES WITH MY OWN EYES), as were people shouting along with him to “Love.” At the end, he commented how we were all sharing the same air, and hearing him think the way (I know at least some of ) us think was so heartwarming.

Also during some of the videos, there were some NOT AT ALL subtle Minjoon moments.

Kim Seokjin

The crowd last night ADORED Jin and gave him all the attention he deserves to have all the time. People were chanting his name SO LOUDLY during instrumental breaks in Epiphany. His voice was phenomenal, particularly the high notes. it’s clear how hard he’s worked to make it sound so effortless. I noticed that people weren’t moving as much during some of his notes and I can only think it’s because we were literally transfixed. It’s well established, but I don’t think this man has any bad angles. Even in the still pictures I took while dancing, he DOESN’T look awkward in any of them. #impossible.

Min Yoongi

Suga was clearly happy about something last night- he was SO cute and happy. Other ARMY on the train back to the city agreed with me. His rapping was fire (duh), but he was really smiley and took out his earpiece a number of times to hear us screaming. “Seesaw” starts with him laying on a couch and I can think of no better way to capture his true soul (lol). He was extra attentive to fans, and I feel like what Tae mentioned in Burn the Stage, he was trying to memorize ARMY’s faces and live in the moment. I felt bad because there were clearly parts where he wanted us to sing along, but we couldn’t necessarily keep up with his tongue technology :P But people definitely tried their best.

Jung Hoseok

Idk what I can say here that’s new. J-Hope is one of the most charismatic members on the stage. And there’s something in the American air that turns him into Jay Hope. Seriously, he’s hard to move your eyes away from. “Just Dance” was the first solo track if I remember correctly and he did not disappoint. His glasses at the end were adorable, and one of the other members called him a “happy grandfather” or something like that. Seriously, if you’re still sleeping on Hobi, we can’t be friends.

Park Jimin

Jimin was ethereal as always, and the choreography for Serendipity was…..salacious, to say the least. Like if you thought the “Take Me Down” cover from last year’s Festa was too much, then idk what to tell you. Bring holy water or something. Despite the free water that fans were providing to others (ARMY are seriously the best) there was a different kind of thirst occurring, if you smell what I’m stepping in. Jimin is pure charisma, like J-Hope. Obviously their styles are totally different, but when they move, you stop whatever you’re doing and watch. Again, I didn’t even see many ARMY bombs moving during Serendipity- I think we were too entranced. I personally thought that he killed his vocals and did great, but he seemed a little tired or like he was working hard at it. Jimin was also the one (at least that I saw from my angle) that got the closest to the fans, crouching down and leaning over the teleprompters/fans/lights/ whatever the black boxes were at the edge of the stage.

Similar to Tae and Yoongi, I saw him looking at fans A LOT during the show. He was exactly how he seems in V Lives and cameras, and I’m fairly certain I would spontaneously combust if I ever ran into him irl (even if I didn’t know who he was)- he just radiates warmth and friendliness. Seriously, if I believed in magic, I feel like he would be able to influence people’s emotions.

Kim Taehyung

So many fic writers have this ultra primal (for lack of a better word?) for Tae, but all I see is a cute sweetheart. Obviously I’ve never seen someone create as much tension with their own arm as he does during Singularity, but when he’s not dancing, I just got a super innocent, cutesy vibe from him. His voice was so smooth last night. I mean, I knew, but now I KNOW. He actually was shooting hearts at one fan (how lucky they are), and pretended to fall down when they shot him back! They were further back in P2 as well so he really does work hard at paying attention to everyone. He actually called over another member (maybe Yoongi or Jimin? I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe, to see whatever he was seeing).

At the end he whipped a heart out of his beanie (how I pray to god someone got that moment on camera) a la Jin. He just seemed really comfortable in his own skin last night, and I was so grateful for it.

Jeon Jungkook

I had a hard time seeing most of his Euphoria performance as it was relatively early on and people were taking a shit ton of videos. He also stayed mostly on the main stage, rather than come out to the extension area near where I was. His abs are just as great in person, and the screams were (as is to be expected), absolutely deafening. They’ve talked about it in shows, but his voice is SO stable. Obviously they stopped at times and don’t use too much backing vocals, but it sounded EXACTLY how it does on the album. He threw something into the crowd (I think a banner) at the end, and it FLEW so far-back to P2 or further. They’re not kidding when they talk about how strong he is.

Final thoughts

At first, I was a little exhausted after my emotional trauma of the prior day, and from standing for so long but the minute it started I forgot everything else. I was salty when I couldn’t see that much bc of people recording (esp when they asked us not to), but I understand the specialness of the moment and wanting to have some tangible evidence that you were there. By the time the concert was over, I realized how special GA was, even if it’s more difficult logistically (since I went solo and didn’t have parents or friends to stand in). I still don’t know if it’s hit me that I was like 10 feet away from them, max. It reaffirmed how important they are to me. I didn’t write this to brag, but to hopefully share my perspective and let others live vicariously through my experience. If you want clarification or anything else, write to me!

#love yourself tour #newark day 2 #bts #bts army #concert diary #concert musings

10 notes · View notes

theonyxpath · 6 years

Link

Via Satyros Phil Brucato:

Janine was a homeless junkie I found dying one night along the path of my post-midnight constitutional. What could I do? Let her perish? Of course not! I took her home and did what any conscientious scientist would do: used my G8-Z26 purgative treatments while stabilizing her physical condition with Dr. Johnstone’s now-famous bioregeneration matrix. I admit she’s not the sharpest scalpel in the drawer but given the condition I found her in last year, I doubt she ever was. There’s no excuse for sloppy work on my part, of course, but Janine’s still alive, and I consider that a victory…

Hola, folks!

When I first conceived of Gods, Monsters and Other Familiar Strangers in 2013, I had initially pictured it as a collection of good, bad, and neutral NPCs to drop into your Mage 20 chronicle. During the intervening years and projects, however, I began to envision a more coherently thematic book – a collection, true enough, but one that featured a coherent theme, hinted at potential metaplots, provided additional rule-systems for non-mage characters, and approached those characters from a broader perspective than a simple, “Here’s a bunch of folks you can marry, fuck, or kill.”

Bringing in several additional authors – Hiromi Cota, Atalanti Evripidou, Jason Louis Feldstein, Antonios Galatis, J.F. High, and Isabella M. Price – we began to shape the slightly retitled Gods, Monsters & Familiar Strangers into a larger and more comprehensive sourcebook. Featuring constructs, consors, Avatars, familiars, spirits, Loa, and many other entities, this book also contains a revised and expanded collection of Special Advantages, spirit Charms, and companion construction rules. Although the past year or so has hit most of the book’s contributors with an array of personal and professional complications, we’re nearly finished with a book that is – in the grand Mage tradition – larger and more ambitious than we had initially intended it to be.

The following excerpts come from that bigger, better book. Enjoy!

The Banner Dei Brute Squad

When the Ecstatic jam band / performance troupe Banner Dei formed on the last night of 1999, that troupe found immediate, enthusiastic support from fans who’d been there that night. The Brute Squad, as they were dubbed by then-bandleader Tricia “Thunderheart” Rykomanski, held the fire-line against unskilled would-be performers who’d be more likely to set themselves on fire than add anything to the performance, pounded out improvised percussion on anything that would make some noise, and then stayed all day the following morning in order to help Banner Dei and their friends clean up the post-gig trash-piles and load the gear into whatever vehicles they could find. Since that night, both Banner Dei and the Brute Squad have cycled through dozens of members. The core of both groups, though, remains stable: Banner Dei blows minds, and the Brute Squad gets them in and out of gigs intact without leaving a huge mess behind. Under the guidance, since 2010, of Kore Valkyrie Smith, the “Banner Brutes” provide drop-in support for Banner Dei’s members and former bandmates. Either collectively or as a group, those Banner Dei personnel can send up a flare, text message, phone call or blog post and have members of the Brute Squad on the location as quickly as a bunch of mortals can arrive. Because the Brute Squad consists of several dozen unAwakened hangers-on scattered across North and Central America, Northern Europe, Japan and India, and because Smith happens to be really good at resource-management (and has backing from several noted Ecstatic philanthropists), a team of three to 15 Brute Squad folks can show up within a day or less with a little advance warning, or be on-site when needed if they know at least two days in advance where they need to be.

Once dispatched, the Banner Dei Brute Squad can handle trash collection and disposal, crowd control, violence-free de-escalation, light medical attention, and set-up / tear-down logistics for stage gear and musical equipment. Most Brute Squad members can also dance, spin fire, perform acrobatics, play musical instruments, or contribute other skills to the performance itself. Kore and her co-leaders train Brute Squad personnel in the essential skills before those people are allowed to back up the band and its people, and though Banner Dei and its support team have rather liberal attitudes about sex and drugs, there’s a strict code of conduct that expels any Brute Squad member who abused his position or can’t be bothered to respect a given “no.” So far, most folks associated with the Brute Squad have remained trustworthy and reliable; Kore’s very good at vetting people, and the few who step out of line and take advantage of Ecstatic hospitality tend to wind up gibbering mindlessly by the side of a road if they’re ever seen again at all.

Traits-wise, Banner Dei’s Brute Squad features a colorful collective of Subculture Devotees (as per that template) whose training lets them haul gear and calm crowds with minimal fuss. Although the oldest members have looked age 40 in the rearview mirror, most Banner Brutes are in their mid-20s to early-30s. Regardless of age or gender, these folks combine tattooed badassery with Zen-focus people skills. Most have traveled extensively throughout the mortal world, and a number have spent time in the Otherworlds as well. Despite appearances, these are friendly people who blend old-school manners with new-millennium social consciousness. They rarely possess paranormal powers themselves (Kore probably does, but if so she doesn’t brag about it), but occasionally bring along mystic goodies they’ve found or been gifted with at various events. The majority of them speak at least two languages, and some enjoy learning as many tongues as they can recall.

Arriving in dust-crusted cars (many of which have been modified for all-terrain use), all Banner Brutes sport a tattoo that marks them as approved and official members of the group. This design – a Hulk-green banner with a white lightning bolt slashed across its surface – glows in the dark so Brutes can find each other in the dark. If a Brute gets booted for good cause (as opposed to retiring from the group on good terms), his tattoo burns away in an agonizing flash of bright green fire, leaving the thunderbolt behind as a permanent scar.

Joe Dread

He’s the face of fear, though he has no face. He can look like anyone yet resembles no one. Joe Dread is the embodiment of terror that wears a human guise. He lurks in alleys, shouts from cars, and walks loudly down the street behind you when no one else is around. Some people, though, make a friend of Dread. For them, he’s family, and his gifts to them are legion.

You’ll never see Dread clearly. That’s the point. His dominion is the unknown factor at the edge of what seems certain otherwise. At times, he’ll crouch on your shoulders when you’re trying to get things done, or loom over your bed on a restless night. Dread is an imp. Dread is a stranger.

Dread looks just enough like one of Those People to get you fired up about them, yet he can look like you as well. He’s the fiend whose face is everyone’s. Dread knows no ethnicity or class because terror haunts us all.

Some folks view Joe Dread as part of Big Owl’s brood – a servant, perhaps, or a human manifestation of the fear-god himself. That might be true, but there’s no way to be sure. These days, Dread is everywhere: screaming at you on the internet, lurking behind your best friend’s grin, knocking on your door and the then disappearing before you answer, smashing your car window just for fun so you can wonder what he took or fear that someone might be inside the car, waiting…

As a totem entity, Joe Dread gifts his chosen with Intimidation, Stealth, and Torture. He knows how to hurt folks and likes to share his secrets. For Joe, the threat of pain is sweeter than pain itself; thus, the favors he confers focus more upon what might happen than on violent acts of certainty. He’s not about beating someone to a pulp, but about getting them to fear what being beaten to a pulp feels like. Dread’s chosen people are similarly frightening, not because they use brutal force but because the potential for force always seems to hover around them. Inflicting such fears really is a kind of science, so Joe’s an exception to the rule that Technocrats cannot bond with totem spirits. His kinsmen among the Black Suit and PsychOp ranks don’t view him as an ephemeral entity, though; to them, he’s just a guy (regardless of gender) like them, who happens to be extremely good at his job.

Despite his colloquial name, Dread isn’t bound by gender. A man who fears women would meet Jo Dread instead. She sneers at him, tears him down, leaves a blank space of rejection in the center of his world or else tells that world that he’s really no one at all. Names are just conveniences we attach to things we wish to classify, and Dread reminds us we have no control. Even those who Dread befriends realize that life is full of terrors and their lives are no exception.

Manifestations: Loud noises, sudden shouts, feelings of anxiety, shadowy figures, whispered threats, posts and comments on the internet, sudden acts of random violence. Associations: Terror, anxiety, suspense, phobias. Brood: Elementals of cold wind, “bad luck” or fearsome animal spirits (spiders, black cats, crows, owls, snakes, and so forth), people who use fear to their advantage. Abilities: Intimidation, Stealth, Torture. Bans: Those who embrace Dread cannot comfort other people or ease their fears unless they do so as a tactic to scare that person even worse afterward.

Baron Samedi, the Cemetery Lord

Everybody dies. Even gods, it is has been said, must die eventually. And when we die, it is the Baron – Baron La Croix, Ghede, the Cemetery Lord – who will greet us on the other side. Tipping his top hat, puffing his cigar, laughing at mortality’s little joke on us, Samedi embodies life as well as death, and can bestow either one with a snap of his fingertips.

Wrongly viewed by outsiders as a demonic figure, the Baron represents balance, not cruelty. Amidst the horrors of slavery and poverty, his presence seems oddly comforting. All things end, the Baron reminds us. Even suffering. Especially suffering. This doesn’t mean he’s not above poking fun at humanity, of course. Among Loa and devotees alike, he’s infamous for crude jests and sexual humor. You might as well laugh at it all, La Baron says. The alternative is misery… and who wants to go through life like that?

A large man dressed in a mockery of the white man’s fashions, Baron Samedi heads the Guédé Loa family: a clan of entities whose provinces are death and fertility. His wife, Grandma Brigitte, appears as a blazing skeleton-woman who guards the crossroads and cemeteries of the nighttime American South. Le Baron has a thing for crossroads too – a territory he shares with Papa Legba… usually over a bottle of good rum and a lot of filthy jokes at humanity’s expense. Manifesting most often with his signature top hat, tailed coat, and a face either painted with skull-like make-up or replaced by an actual skull, Samedi speaks in a high, often loud, nasal voice, swears continually, and smokes up a storm. He often wears dark glasses, with plugs up his nose like any well-dressed corpse should have. His devotees, when ridden by La Baron and his kin, smear themselves with crushed hot peppers and raw rum, taxing the limits of the flesh because what’s most important is the state beyond this mortal shell.

Straddling life and death like an enthusiastic lover, Gedhe always speaks the truth. Because he transcends mortal limitations, he ignores the bounds of propriety, too. The head of his cane has been carved into the shape of a cock, and he loves to wave it around. Samedi is, after all, a deeply sexual Loa, too. Some folk call upon him when they want to get laid in non-fatal fashion, and his devotees have a reputation for being frighteningly seductive yet downright crude. Samedi loves to party, but he’s always watching the clock… not his, but yours. A trickster godhead, he’s got the blunt honesty of the grave. Sex and death are his dominion, and he enjoys indulging both.

Thanks to his province over death, Samedi tends to attract necromancers to his path. These folks often wind up wishing they’d knocked on someone else’s door. Although he often plays the fool, La Baron does not suffer fools at all, most especially not if they’re white folks who think they understand voodoo. In addition to the frenzied dance called the banda, Papa Gedhe loves to mess with people’s minds. He can read minds, too, so it’s a bad idea to try and fool La Baron. Coffins, poisons, graveyards, and near- or actual death are signatures of his rites, and would-be devotees need the courage to face both the grave and what lies beyond it if they wish to beg Samedi’s favors. Offerings of rum, cigars, black coffee, roasted peanuts, and bread (baked black if you can manage that) attract La Baron’s attention, but you’d best be ready to meet Death face-to-face if you wish to work with Samedi. Though often associated in popular media with zombis, Samedi actually prefers to keep dead people dead. Behind his rough humor and fearsome façade, Baron Samedi hides a secret compassion for the poor souls walking this hard earth. Demise, he knows, is not a torment but the blessed relief from life itself.

Manifestations: Skulls and skull-faced men, gravediggers, skeletons… very profane skeletons. Associations: Crossroads, death, sexuality, graves, top hats, phalluses, black or purple clothing, cemetery dirt. Brood: Ravens, black dogs or roosters, gravedigger spirits, Southern American Goths, and the Guédé Loa as a whole. Abilities: Intimidation, Medicine, Occult. Bans: Don’t lie. Seriously, don’t.

#Onyx Path Publishing

7 notes · View notes

foreverholdmedown · 6 years

Text

Short: Momzilla (Part 3)

“After spending months living out in L.A. you really learn to appreciate New York so much more. It’s been good to be home, honestly.” Robyn curled her toes in the warm water and blissfully sighed as she stared across the nearly empty nail salon while Monica sat along side her. Rather than having her manicurist Kimmie come over to the house and do her nails, she decided to go and have an outing with her long time friend at one of their favorite spots in Brooklyn. It allowed her to get a bit of fresh air on one of the cooler days out of the week and to give her Bentley a drive since she hadn’t been in it in quite some time.

“What’s so bad about Los Angeles? I love it here too, but I don’t mind L.A. at all honestly. Mike and I have discussed moving out there on a number of occasions but we’ve also discussed moving back to North Carolina too. Either way, New York is always a sure thing for us.”

“I just don’t like the vibe out there. It’s such a big place and yet it’s such a small world. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone is fucking everyone. I swear there’s a ten to one ratio when it comes to women and the celebrity men they fuck. You literally have women who have all fucked the same guys and they hang around one another in the same circles. I’ll never understand it. Everyone’s a vulture and an opportunist without a care or a concern for any damn body. I don’t want to be around people like that. I don’t fuck with that Hollywood scene which is why I don’t take on too many movie roles. I know Cole loves to work out there and I make the sacrifice for him, but living there is and will always be a hell no for me.”

“Does it have anything to do with Lisa?”

“Not really. I can’t run from women who have or want to fuck him. You know? I just can’t. If that’s the case I’d be running my whole life from place to place to place. There are barely any places on this planet where I can go to without there being some woman who has either had him, almost had him, or has dreams of having him. I hear the wildest shit and see women doing the craziest things to have the slightest chance to get backstage. I’ve walked out to see women who have made their way near the tour buses and they literally walk around trying to figure which one is his. I’ve seen women offer pussy to stage hands, venue security, the fucking doorman, and anyone else just to get to him. They don’t have any regard for me or what he has at home which is why I can’t really stress myself over women of the past and the ones who would do anything to have him now. I’d go insane.”

“He doesn’t give a damn about that though. Whether you’re there or not, he shows up to the venue, does his soundcheck, relaxes on the bus, works on music, eats, goes to the dressing room, calls you if you’re not there, talks to you until it’s time to perform, does the show, and he’s right back to the bus. I’ve watched him do it night after night when I fly out to visit and hang around.”

“I know.”

“And when you’re there, he’s at his happiest. I see it all over him and the way he moves. It’s not easy being away from home, especially when the people you love most are there waiting for you, so I know for him it’s special to be able to travel with his family along side him. He’s all about you and the kids when you’re there. It urges him to go even harder when he’s on that stage because truly has his biggest fans out there cheering him on. You don’t need to see or worry about any of that shit you just spoke on because you’re all he wants. Despite everything that has happened, you’re all he wants.”

“It took me quite some time to realize that, with reason, but I know Mo.”

“So what’s up? Why aren’t you two on speaking terms?” She had a conversation about her chosen distance from him upon her return to New York and it has remained as such since she’s been in town. Though it’s only been three days, much hasn’t changed from the hostility while she was in Los Angeles. With much argument involved between her mother and the occasional words from her mother-in-law, the children were left there with them as they pleaded and she went to New York to officially close on an office space for her corporation and imprint. Having a breather within the walls of the home she missed so much was an added bonus. Though the silence is eerie and the bed is missing the warmth of the man who owns the other side of it, it’s still home and it’s been pleasant to be there. Though she didn’t have much of anything to say to him while preparing herself to head to the East Coast, she did answer his phone call when he flew to Houston for the first date of the Dollar & A Dream Tour. The conversation was as brief as she needed it to be and yet more than enough to irritate him to the point of him hanging up before the argument budding between them worsened. This morning, she woke up to the feel of him flopping down on his side of the bed. His greeting was faint as his head crashed into the pillows and the warmth of his body radiated against hers as he pulled the covers over himself and fell into slumber within minutes. She didn’t even have a chance to greet him in return.

“I don’t want to call myself needy but maybe that’s the place I’m in right now. It goes beyond him missing the premiere. That hurt me but I think I’m in this place of just wanting his acknowledgement as my husband. I hate when we’re in a place of work feeling like it’s coming first and that happens a lot. I try to control it on my end because I know how it makes him feel, but there are times when I feel like he starts to slip up with making sure that he controls it on his end. Missing the premiere was apart of it but sometimes it goes deeper than that. I miss him so much and it’s weird because he’s right there. I miss him even when we’re on tour because the time is so split up. He’s working, he’s creating, he’s figuring out logistics, and making adjustments. For most part, I try to stay out of his way. I know what it’s like to be under pressure to make sure everything goes smoothly and he’s doing that night after night for months. I get it. On top of that, we have kids and I don’t get much of a break. I love them more than life itself but sometimes I need a breather and I don’t get much of that.”

“Have you told him this is how you feel?”

“No, because I don’t know how to nor do I want to sound needy. He’s been asking me what I want and what he needs to do going forward to make sure I have that but I don’t want much. I just want him to know that sometimes mommy needs a day to do something like what we’re doing right now and I need him to be there for me when I need him to. I’m not even being picky and saying when I want him to, but just when I need him to. I wanted my husband there on my big day and I felt like he wasn’t proud of me because he wasn’t.”

“And you still haven’t told him this?”

“No. I left it up to him to understand my emotions without needing the words. He apologized but that was just one part of it.”

“Who do you think he is? Miss Cleo? Say it. Everything you just said to me, you could have said to him as soon as you were feeling it. That man is not going to call you needy. You’re just asking for some time to yourself and some time with him for yourself. You’re not asking him to move a mountain. Tell him. Communication is key and closed mouths don’t get fed. That’s what my mother always tells me. Right now, the only emotion you’re giving him is anger and hostility. He’s reading it and I’m sure he understands it, but you’re resistant. This has been you since I’ve known you. You’re stubborn.”

“I am not.” Her denial even amused her. Stubborn is at the top of the list when it comes to her personality traits. Though she’s gotten better with it, it’s still apart of who she is and how she conducts herself.

“Girl, bye. You’re the most stubborn person I know. You’re sitting here telling me you miss your husband and yet instead of being home with him, you’re here with me getting a mani and pedi because you’re trying to stick it to him. Stubborn. Funny as hell, but stubborn. Talk to him though and if he doesn’t listen I’ll knock him upside the head myself.”

“You and I both.”

“Oh no, please. I don’t think his mouth can take another one of your punches.” Though she snickered along with Monica, Robyn couldn’t help but to think back on the day she put her hands on him. What felt like a justified punch then is cringe worthy to hear about now. While his words were vicious, she could have handled it much better and has known better ever since. Today, a knock upside his head would mean a scolding that would throw him off track or aggravate him a bit.

“Are you going to the show tonight? Please tell me you’re coming.”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go. Your husband texted me a little while ago playfully threatening me that I need to be there and I don’t want to miss out on hearing him perform those songs. It’s Friday Night Lights. I’m not missing that.”

“Good! Get cute and come out to rock out with your hubby. Maybe we can all go out for drinks after it.”

“Fair enough. I could use a great cocktail or two.”

“Mr. Shaw and I are taking a trick to Jamaica for a couple of days before the tour resumes. I could use it after spending so much time out in London working on my Missguided collaborations and he loves it out there, so it’s a win win.”

“Baby making for the win. Jaxton needs a playmate.”

“We’re working on it. You could always be working on a playmate for him your damn self.”

“Oh, please. This mama barely has the time to fit in a pedicure on her schedule and you’re trying to have me walking around here with a big ol’ belly in the process? Maybe a little later, but not right now.”

“I think the timing is on point for Mike and I. We’ve talked about it a lot, but we both feel ready now. We’re in a place where we feel comfortable enough with balancing one another, a child, and work. It too a while to get there, but we’re alright now.”

“Yeah, I think you two are in a great space for children. I’m excited for yall. You know I’ve been waiting on this. You two are my favorite couple of all time.”

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that since high school and I’d always tell you that you and Cole were mine.”

“Even though we weren’t a couple.” Robyn shook her head at the sound of Monica’s laughter. If you let their friends tell it, they were a couple since birth. They all truly believe that they were destined to be with one another from the point of conception.

“Oh yes yall were. The only person in denial was you. You were in denial, so he had no choice but to pretend like he was as well, but we all knew the deal.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Now look at all of us. We’re successful, married, making babies. It’s wild because it actually happened. When you think about a lot of the stuff we used to speak on and dream about, you being the one who did it quietly by the way, it felt like pipe dream and yet something attainable. It’s damn breathtaking to realize that we’ve done it and it happened along side the people we always deemed to be family. I think about that a lot. I remember when I fell in love with Mike and despite the little things that we’d go through, I would alway hope that he’d be my husband in the future no matter where we went in life. When the modeling was taking off, I worried a lot about us but we held on tight and we continue to do so. I never wanted to do life without him or you or J. So, I cherish my blessings. Shit could have gone way left, you know? It felt like it was shifting that way when you left but God works harder than we ever could. He knew that we all needed you.” The silence that fell between the two friends was a sentimental one. The flutters within Robyn’s heart intensified at the brief reflection she had on their experiences over the years.

“Are you trying to make me cry or something? Sheesh Mo.”

“No. I’m just letting you know that I love you. We love you. We’re here whenever you need us Rob. Often times, you tend to move around like you’re in this world alone and I understand where that comes from, but I just want to remind you that you’re not.” Once their hands met, they laced their fingers together.

“I know and I love you too.”

The silence inside of their plush penthouse was unexpected and yet appreciated. She mentally prepared herself to see and hear a ton of men sounding like a stampede moving throughout their home in preparation for the hectic show tonight. Instead, she found the centerpiece of it all still stretched out and sound asleep in their bed with his mouth slightly ajar and his head meshed into her pillow. She kept the quiet going as she returned downstairs and made her way into the kitchen to prepare lunch for him and a chicken parmesan lasagna for dinner. In the midst of preparing the chicken for the dish, she prepared a turkey burger and her homemade seasoned steak cut fries that he loves so much. If she didn’t feed him, he was sure to stuff his face at some random fast food restaurant on the way to the venue.

“Hey.” Though he wasn’t sleeping anymore, he was still lazily slumped across the bed with his phone placed beside him. Had it not rang, he absolutely still would have been sound asleep. The grogginess was all in his facial expression.

“I made you some lunch. I don’t know if you want it now or want to wait until you’re fully up to have it.”

“I’ll take it now. I don’t want it to get cold. Thank you Baby Girl.” The sight of his bare chest caught her eye and she instantly, she pulled her lip in-between her teeth at the sight. His laziness when arriving home caused him to not look for anything to sleep in. As she lifted the covers to get out of bed hours ago, the only thing that covered his frame was a pair of black Polo boxer briefs.

“You’re welcome. Tired huh?” While she placed the tray over his lap, he nodded his head in response to her question.

“Super fucking tired. We were going back and forth with a bunch of venues over here up until the moment I got on stage last night. I wanted to give the people this type of experience in a bigger venue so that I could fit more people inside. It fucks with me when people come out and they don’t get a chance to rock out after spending all of those hours outside, but none of these venues trusted it. They’d heard about it before and talked about their fears of chaos and kept nicely shutting me down, so I don’t have much of a choice other than to do it at Irving Plaza.” Without any hesitation he reached for the fries and stuffed two of them into his mouth. “These shits are so good.

“Well you tried. That’s what most important. I know what these Dollar and A Dream experiences mean to you and the fans. I know it gets even harder every time you do them, but what matters is you still do them. You still get in touch with the people. You still give them these moments where they feel like you’re still their favorite guy that they’re rooting for. That makes it all the more special no matter what, so don’t be upset. It’s going to be incredible tonight. Everything is going to be alright.”

“I know I hurt you by not coming to your premiere and I regret that so much. I think about it a lot and it fucks with me because no matter what the consequences may have been, I should have gone, because there’s no greater disappointment in that type of situation than disappointing my wife. I love what I do, but none of it is more important than you and our kids. It’ll never take precedence over my family. I apologize again now and will continue to do so however many times you need me to, so you can understand that I mean it.” His sigh influenced her to inch closer to the bed.

“I never said that you didn’t mean it. I just need adjustments. That’s all I’m asking for. You see how you’re tired? It happens to me too. You often time need space for your own creative outlets or just to get yourself together and so do I. I know you’re working right now so I can’t expect what isn’t realistic or fair to you until this tour wraps up, but just understand that I need you and as this family expands, my expectations and needs from you are doing the same thing. Much like I have to adjust to your life, schedule, and whatever it is that you need, you have to be able to grant me the same courtesy.”

“I know. Just give me until the end of this tour and I’m all yours. I promise. I know you think my promises are empty, but you have my word. As soon as that Homecoming wraps in the Ville, it’s us and the kids.” Despite the truthfulness within his tone, most of his statements went into one ear and right out of the other. Jermaine has talked himself into and out of so many situations that has gone on between the two of them. Talking is his expertise and it’s literally his job to have a way with words to draw people in and leave them hanging onto every syllable that comes out of his mouth. Words mean nothing this time around. If the actions don’t follow then they’re nothing more than empty thoughts and promises right? Right about now, he could promise her the heavens and it would hold no weight. If he truly means it, he’ll show her when the tour is over.

“Enjoy your burger. I have to finish cooking. I’m making chicken parm lasagna. I just need to finish the top layer and put it into the oven.”

“You should come back up here when you’re done with that.”

“For what?” The sly smirk on his face and the way he patted the bed was silly enough to earn a chuckle out of her. Of course that’s what it would be for.

“Oh, I see.” Her eyebrow raised as he ran his tongue over his lips. The playful shaking of her head instantly made him laugh in silliness and excitement for his request.

“You want me to start taking your clothes off now?”

“No. I’ll be back.”

“Nah. Nah. Take something off now so that I can know for sure you’re coming back up here.” Her laughter of disbelief meshed in with his.

“You cannot be serious right now. Where am I going? I’m coming back.”

“Take the shorts off.” While playfully rolling her eyes, she kicked her PUMA slippers off to the side, unbuttoned and unzipped the denim shorts she went out in earlier, and allowed them to fall to the floor to reveal barely there lace that worsened his lust.

“Happy?”

“Hell no. That lasagna can wait.” His reflexes were swifter than her own. Before she could take a step in the direction of the door, his arm lunged for her own and he pulled her onto their bed. Her squeals of excitement were heightened at the warmth of his body as it eventually hovered over her own. As their eyes met, familiar sparks and chills ignited every single aspect of her body in a manner that has yet to falter since her first encounter with him. In just that instant, she fell even deeper in love with the man she had vowed her to love to long before doing so under the oath of God. For every single man she called out when conversing with Melissa, there would have been a pending failure awaiting whatever journey she took with them. The love she developed for one man is once in a lifetime and embedded into the deepest root of her soul. No matter what decision she makes, it’s beyond her at this point. No matter what happens between the two of them, it will always run that deep.

“I love you so much.” She didn’t get a chance to respond. His lips meshed into her own and her caramel thighs wrapped around his waist in a hunger she hadn’t even realized she was feeling. Her hands slowly ran down his bare back and she drew him closer to not only intensify his sensual kiss but most of all to entice him to remove both barriers separating them from being one. Foreplay would have to wait for the second round that she’s hoping for. Once his long fingers locked into the thin straps of her thong, the sound of his iPhone ringing halted their actions.

“Has to be Ib.”

“Ignore it, please. Please?” She pressed her lips into his again and he obliged her kiss and pleading.

“We have to be quick.”

“That’s fine.” Yet again, he began the task of pulling the racy material down over her thighs and succeeded with his mission. As she reached for the Polo boxer briefs covering his lower half, the sound of his phone filled the room again and a sigh instantly spilled from her lips. Guilt filled his form as they listened to it until it finished and yet seconds later, yet another call followed.

“Just answer it. He’s not going to stop calling.”

“I’m going to make this up to you tonight baby. I promise.” With his phone in his hand, he disappeared into the bathroom leaving her to lay there in frustration with hormones that were raging beyond her control. Every angry thought is what slowly but surely brought the natural high he caused back down to the ever confusing earth. She then recovered herself and returned to the task at hand in the kitchen. Their words for the next hour and a half that he was within their home were as brief as she needed them to be. He was far too busy wrapped up in the details of the evening and her mind was purposefully elsewhere. His words of love and yet another promise to make things up to her was their last exchange as he rushed out of the door with a plastic bowl filled with the lasagna she prepared for him more so than herself. She was met with the silence of their home yet again and this time, instead of bringing her peace, it triggered an eerie discomfort.

The sound of her metallic ankle lock Tom Ford sandals transitioned from a faint patter against the pavement to a sharp clack as she trekked through a long hall to reach the backstage area. While reading herself, she thought the sequins covered couture Schiaparelli dress was far too much for a overpacked Hip-Hop show, but she couldn’t pass up wearing it because she looked damn good in it and if she did decide to go out for drinks, it would serve it’s purpose. Rather than wearing her hair loose, she pulled it back into a tight long ponytail and allowed the dress to be the statement piece.

“You’re really going hard with your First Lady status, I see. You’re trying to look like royalty while standing up there in that balcony and watching your man, huh?” She texted Ced to meet her out back to escort her inside since she didn’t have a pass and he’d been cracking jokes ever since. If it’s not him, then it’s Mike doing it.

“Not really.”

“Or you’re trying to have him rushing to get off of that stage then huh?”

“No.” Neither one of those things were on her mind but she’d take his masked compliments either way.

“First Lady. What’s really hood?” The aroma of kush and the multiple stenches of men moving around filled her nose. With a nod of her head, she chuckled at Ron’s greeting and waved.

“How are you?”

“Shit, I can’t complain.”

“I didn’t think you were going to show up Mrs. Cole.” Her once relaxed expression contorted into an automatic frown at the sound of the man’s voice who she’s been at a quiet war with for years. Despite both declaring they have a mutual love and respect for one another, she can’t help but to believe Ib hoodwinked her to appease his business partner and best friend.

“I’m sure you didn’t want me to.” In an instant, his head jerked back and he frowned his face up at her words. Instead of furthering her response to worsen the confusion filling both Ron and Cedric, she reached for the handle of Jermaine’s dressing room.

“He’s in there with Jay, Ty-Ty, Jay Brown, Joie, and some other folks. They came through.” Whether she read into it the wrong way or not, the manner in which he said it immediately threw her off task. Rather than twisting the knob, she stepped away from what he made sound like some exclusive club that she could never be apart of and walked off. She’d seen him perform in the venue twice before so it wasn’t difficult to find the balcony on her own and her preferred seat of choice. It’s where she remained, even as her presence caused quite a bit of a stir as the doors opened.

“Why are you up here alone?” Mike’s lips met the side of her face and he flopped down in the chair along side hers and passed over a red cup filled with some sort of alcoholic concoction he crafted. Many of her drunk nights are credited to him.

“This is where I’ll be sitting either way, so I figured I might as well come up here and chill out.” “Mo’s about to come up here. She was looking for you. I think she called you but you probably didn’t hear it because of the music.”

“I didn’t. I’ve had my phone in my clutch bag this whole entire time. What is the superstar up to?”

“Cole? He’s sitting in his dressing room talking to Jay and them. We found out they were coming just a couple of hours ago and had to end up scrambling to make accommodations for that. I think they’re going to sit up here where you are.”

“Should I move?”

“What? Hell no. Shit, you’re more important than they are. If you got here after they did, I’d make those niggas move.” His endearing response earned prompted her to place a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s why you’re my brother.”

“You coming to Atlanta with us? You might as well since we’re going to end up back in L.A. for the final show of this little run.”

“I don’t know. We’ll see. I’m enjoying being home.”

“I hear you. At least we still have a little over two weeks off until we start the final leg of the tour. After Jamaica, I’m chilling at home for one of those weeks for sure. Yall still going to Tahiti?”

“No.” There’s no point in doing that. If anything, Disneyland with the kids and possible some other place they’ll enjoy needs to be added to the agenda. It’s summer and Yari needs a bit more fun outside of traveling with her dad all over the place. “Yari wants to go to DisneyLand so we’re going to do that and maybe a zoo or aquarium. I thinking the San Diego Zoo. There’s also the National Air and Space Museum. She’s mentioned it, so I’ll see if we can get out to D.C. to see it.”

“Aw. You’re such a mom.”

“Shut up.”

“Maybe we can meet yall out in D.C. for that one. Let me know. I’d do the drive out there for that.”

“Will do.”

“Let me get back downstairs before Ib’s nagging ass calls me. I’ll sneak up here once that nigga hits the stage. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Alright.”

Monica eventually did join her but so did all those who were occupying Jermaine’s time in his dressing room. With respect, they acknowledged her presence with hugs and words of praise just minutes before the man of the hour took the stage to further excite the eager audience. Despite releasing it for free out of sheer frustration about not having an album out and to feed his growing fanbase, Friday Night Lights stands as one of the most classic projects of his career thus far and the response to it was evidence of that. A ton of songs were records made inside of his bedroom and without the production of major producers. He simply put the pen to the paper and expressed some of his most creative, vulnerable, and powerful thoughts and turned it into a project for the ages. Those that fell in love with it fell in love with him even further. It was the project that solidified Robyn’s contemplation to return to the states in search of him. Though she’s seen him perform a few songs here and there during the promotional run before and after the first album, there’s nothing like seeing him run through the tape it it’s entirety. She hung on to every lyric he rapped and every moment he stopped for a breather and talked about the journey it took to get to the tape. His raw honesty, genuine appreciation, and humility hadn’t changed since the world began to discover who he is and it stands as a testament for why every face watching him tonight would leave tonight championing for him even more. Though he’s a superstar, it still feels like he belongs to them and is that best kept secret that everyone loves to talk about and take credit for putting people on. It was a show that anyone who calls them self a fan wouldn’t have wanted to miss and it felt exactly the same for her. The nearly hoarse voice as she walked down from that balcony with was a clear sign of that.

“It’s always nice to see him perform the new shit, but it’s damn good when we get some nostalgia, right?” Robyn snickered at Monica’s tipsiness and nodded her head in agreement. She only took a couple of sips of the one drink Mike handed to her and that was enough to know if she finished the rest, she’d be wobbling around here.

“Right.” Though the hall was packed with people, she remained posted up against the wall observing the activity. She hadn’t even noticed the other well known attendees who decided to come out and support since he was performing in their native state. Aside from them were the most famous radio personalities and journalists looking to capture just a couple of minutes of his time for a few words to put in an article or on a YouTube channel. Missing was Jermaine, who ducked into his dressing room and closed himself in to cool down from the performance and gather his thoughts. If you weren’t someone of importance to him, even catching the slightest glimpse of him as he exits the venue might not be possible.

“He keeps fucking asking where his wife is.” Robyn turned in the direction of Ced’s voice and the frustration within his expression nearly made her laugh.

“I walked all around this place looking for you and you’ve been standing here the whole time?”

“I saw you walk past.” She just didn’t know he was in search of her.

“He keeps asking for you. Why you out here anyway?”

“Just enjoying the atmosphere.”

“Enjoy the atmosphere where he is because if he asks for you one more time, I’m probably gon’ punch him in his chest.”

“She’s been with me. We’ve been hanging out all night.” Monica sipped her drink yet again without any regard for the slight slur in her response and playfully bumped Robyn with her hip.

“Are yall drunk?”

“She is, I’m not.”

“I’m not drunk either, at least not yet. Now when we go out after this, I can’t make any promises.”

“I’ll be back. Hold the wall down until I return.”

With her only being inches away from the door, she simply swung around Monica, walked a couple of steps down and quietly stepped inside of the dressing room. It was easy to tell he hadn’t moved from his seat on the couch since flopping down on it and the smile on his face as Ib hyped him about the results of the show was priceless.

“Finally. I’ve been looking for you all night. I finally caught you standing up there in the middle of the performance. Damn you look good.” A complain, observation, and compliment all in one breath. Only Jermaine.

“You knew where I’d be. The show was incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. It’s always amazing to see you get out there and perform the records that you created while on the grind. You’re always grinding but that was so much different. I just enjoy seeing you in that type of element and so close to the people. It’s priceless. The most amazing part is you only charging a dollar for people to watch you pour your heart and soul out onto that stage. That’s a show I would have paid thousands to watch.”

“Thank you baby.” His smile widened and she gave him a nod to assure him that she meant every word.

“You’re welcome. I loved it. I hope Scott got a lot of footage.”

“We’re recording every show and we’re going to use it for a future project that we’ve just about closed on with HBO.” Ib chimed into their moment and though she didn’t bother turning in his direction, she was considerate enough to listen.

“That’s amazing.”

“Baby, Miguel is in the city and he’s doing a midnight showcase for his new album. A few of us want to go. Come with me.”

“Sounds nice, but I can’t. I have some things to do.”

“At this time of night? What could that be?” Though it was late, in her field there is no particular time that work stops and the same could be said for his.

“I don’t want to get into all of that right now, but I really do have something to handle tonight.”

“Come with me, please.” His puppy dog eyes had no affect on her decision.

“I can’t.”

“Well then I’ll come with you.” That’s the last thing she needed or wanted.

“That’s not necessary, go and enjoy it with your friends. You worked your ass off tonight, so go and have a nice breather. Have a drink for me.”

“I’d rather have one with you.”

“Next time.”

“Or you can just come with us tonight? It’s fucking Miguel. You love him.” Us? Hearing that Ib would be in attendance was the final nail in the coffin on that decision.

“I’ll see him another time. I’ll be back in a minute. Mo’s waiting for me.”

“Baby Girl. Will you ride home with me first? I want to talk to you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

It’d been the first time in a long time that she actually told him a bold faced lie. She didn’t return. Her exit out of the venue was just as quiet as her entrance. Her choice to drive made it easier because she didn’t have to wait for a driver to return to pick her up nor did she have to wait for a security escort. As fans were still filtering out of the venue, she was riding off into the night in her Bentley. Her only stop was at a Wine and Spirits store for a bottle of her favorite red wine and her choice to enjoy it while sitting on the floor of her of brand new office space made it merry. While staring out at the breathtaking views of Manhattan, she didn’t mind toasting to herself and celebrating what will soon be the space where she continues to build upon her resume. Though it’s empty, she filled it with hopes and aspirations. Not only will she continue to change her own life, but this will be the place that’ll change the lives of many others.

“Hey Edward. I apologize for calling you so late.” Her long time lawyer’s chuckle eased her nervousness just a bit. He’s never gotten a call from her past five in the evening but the questing burning the tip of her tongue couldn’t wait.

“I was awake. What’s up Robyn? What incredible idea are we going for next?”

“It’s nothing business related. I just have a question. I know this isn’t really your field but I figured you may know a bit about it. Again, it’s just a question. I’m only curious.”

“I’m listening.”

“How do you file for a legal separation in New York?”

“Uh…” The hesitance in his tone seeped out quickly. “It depends. There are two ways to do it. You can file a separation agreement in which both parties involved are willing to do so or if it’s just you alone without a willing spouse, you have to file for a summons with a complain for judgement of separation within the court. Is this hypothetical situation mutual?”

“Um…probably not.”

“Well then you’ll have to do the summons. Here’s where the difficult part comes in. You have to ask the New York Supreme Court for the judgement of separation by filing a complain for divorce and then a summons is issued for your spouse to appear in court. From there, it’s the court who decides upon the terms and conditions of the separation. Now, the only way you’ll actually win a separation is if you’re being physically or mentally abused to the point of your well being and life being unsafe to be within the presence of that person. Uh, there’s abandonment or neglect of care and support, whether it be for you or the children. Of course there’s adultery and it had to be within four or five years of the starting lawsuit for the judgement of separation. I believe it’s five. And then of course, if your spouse has been in prison for three of more consecutive years after the marriage began. If you’re not going through any of those problems, then it’s going to be difficult but I can get it done and if not me, I can call up Laura Wasser. She’s a good friend of mine and she knows this process quiet well.” She’d heard of the Disso Queen and her reputation in the celebrity world. Name a celebrity divorce and her name is somewhere in the mix. Calling her also brings about a ton of publicity that Robyn would literally meltdown over. The last thing she’d ever want is the public in the midst of her issues, especially with Jermaine.

“I see.”

“Are you sure this is just a question? I’m here to help.”

“It’s just a question.”

“Well, there are a ton of resources that you can seek before taking things that far. In this hypothetical situation, start with a conversation and maybe some counseling.”

“Sounds fair enough. Thank You.”

“I’m here if you need me. Are you okay? Safe?”

“Absolutely.”

“Jaxton?”

“He’s great.”

“Alright. Well I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.”

“Alright. Have a goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

With the tingle of the red wine trickling down her throat, Robyn’s bitter sigh filled her space.

#j cole fanfiction #j. cole fanfiction #rihanna fanfic #rihanna fanfiction

20 notes · View notes