#anyway I’m so sorry I’ve just gotten out of a 7 hour car trip and I’m so constantly devastated | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

____

I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

Join a taglist here Tell me your thoughts on this fic here Have a request? Send it in here

Taglist: @the-girl-who-writes-fanfiction @haylaansmi @masumiyetimziyanoldu @cielo1984 @rexorangecouny @username2002 @calm-and-doctor @pieceofried @mermaidshmari @missyoumaybank @everythingbutnormal @seasonfivereid @no-honey-no @muffin-cup @90spumkin @spenxerslut

182 notes · View notes

jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Umbrae Secrets [繁荫秘语] Date Translation (Prologue)

“I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 6✩ Inspiration has 8 Endings!! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

It was an ordinary day of work. I’d just gotten to the office when Li Man’man opened the door and entered the room.

Li Man'man: No way, no way! You’ll never believe it! I’m doing all of you a favour by reminding you to behave today.

Brother Mao: Huh? What’s gotten you into such a tizzy?

Li Man’man rubbed the goosebumps that had arisen on her arms, shivering as she recalled what she’d seen.

Li Man'man: I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…

Li Man'man: I thought I’d turn into a block of ice in no time flat the moment our gazes met!

MC: What?

Hearing her recollection, I couldn’t help but to suddenly think back to what happened yesterday during lunch hour.

❖☆———————————★❖

At noon, I’d compiled a set of documents related to jewellery designs, just as Evan had requested and brought it up to his office.

A voice sounded from within when I knocked on the door of his office. It sounded unusually indifferent.

Evan: Come in.

❖☆———————————★❖

Pushing the door open, I saw Evan leaning against his chair, his brows were furrowed, hanging low, and there seemed to be thick storm clouds brewing in his eyes.

He was still staring blankly out the window in a daze when I went up to his desk.

Evan: Just leave it there.

MC: Okay.

Hearing me, he turned. The dark look on his face instantly lightened up.

Evan: Hm? Oh, it's you.

Evan: Sorry, I was just thinking about something.

Recalling the unusual look he had on his face when I entered, I couldn’t help but step on eggshells around him.

MC: Don't worry about it. Here are the documents you requested. Are you… okay?

Before he could reply, however, the landline on his desk suddenly rang, interrupting our conversation.

MC: I'll leave you to it!

Evan nodded apologetically at me and I took my leave from his office.

❖☆———————————★❖

Did something happen to make him unhappy…?

With his personality, he wouldn’t tell anyone about his troubles even if something WAS troubling him, no doubt.

❖☆———————————★❖

When I got home at night, I switched on the TV. It was coincidentally broadcasting a camping-related program.

The lush green forest, the joyous chirruping of birds and their songs… Everything there was powered by Mother Nature’s power of healing, capable of washing away all exhaustion in one’s body and mind.

I didn't know why I thought of Evan again, but I did.

MC: There’s a gigantic forest at the outskirts of Guangqi City and it’s clear weather out all the time now.

MC: Maybe he might feel better if I can somehow get him out to the forest for a walk...

An idea popped into my head and I scrambled to fetch my phone, searching for the familiar name in my contacts.

I was just about to hit the call button when I suddenly thought of a plausible issue.

MC: I don’t think he’ll reject me regardless if he wants to go or not if I invite him directly like that.

MC: Maybe I should feel around for his thoughts about it so that I don’t unknowingly coerce him into anything.

After pondering it for a while, I hit the dial button.

❖☆———————————★❖

Evan: (Y/n)? What's the matter?

MC: … Evan, I… err, have gotten interested in coffee lately.

Evan: Really? What flavour of coffee do you like? I'll be glad to recommend you things.

MC: Oh… I haven't decided yet.

MC: Ahem, have you ever seen a coffee tree? I've never seen it myself with my own two eyes! I really want to go see one~

Evan: About that…

He sounded hesitant, there was no doubt about it. I awkwardly scratched my head.

Did I come off too strange by bringing up that question out of the blue!?

Evan: Coffee trees have strict requirements when it comes to the environment they’re grown in. And as far as I’m aware, the PH levels of the soil and the amount of rainfall here in Guangqi City do not fit their criteria.

Evan: So, I'm afraid it'll be hard for you to spot one in Guangqi City.

Evan: But we can go see one together in Africa during your next vacation if you'd like.

MC: Eh? Africa? No need then.

MC: Ahaha… then, how about...

When there’s a will, there’s a way. I saw a glimmer of light at the end of the dark path in my mind.

MC: Then, what about a bamboo pith?

MC: I had some bamboo piths while eating hotpot a couple of days ago! I find that it’s a very amazing fungus! I really want to see one growing for myself!

Evan: It is. Although information is now widely accessible, it still hits different when you see it with your own eyes.

Evan: When are you free? We can go check it out together.

MC: Brilliant!

That's what I've been waiting for you to say!

MC: Are you free next weekend?

Evan: Yes, my weekends are open.

Evan: You… Are you this happy just to go to the forest for a walk?

MC: Hahaha, yeah! Super happy!

Evan: I'll come fetch you in my car next Saturday at 10 AM. Will that be alright?

MC: Sure! We're all set then!

Evan: Then, have you ever hiked or camped out before?

MC: No… but don't worry!

MC: I’ve watched lots of videos about camping on the internet! I’ll prepare all the equipment we’ll need this time!

Evan: Alright. I'll be leaving it all to you then.

❖☆———————————★❖

Soon, the appointed day arrived.

When I came downstairs lugging along a rucksack that towered about half a person tall, Evan, who was waiting by his car, looked slightly taken aback.

Evan: You…

I found myself blanking out as I stared at Evan, standing not too far away,

This was my first time seeing Evan dressed in such a casual manner. The soft and form-fitting material of his clothes made his shoulders appear wider and him, much more reliable. It was reassuring, to say so in the least.

MC: Haha, did I bring one too many things? Actually, I think so too.

MC: In case we don't find a bamboo pith today, we can still camp overnight in the forest with this.

MC: Don't you think?

He smiled as he approached, taking the heavy bag off my shoulders.

Evan: Sounds good.

Evan: You must have fun and enjoy your first camping trip, if anything.

The tenderness in his countenance was the same as always. Where was that coldness to him that a certain someone had mentioned?

I secretly felt a wave of relief wash over me.

MC: Let's head out then!

❖☆———————————★❖

After driving on the suburban roads for nearly an hour, we finally reached an area near the forest on the outskirts of the City.

Evan gently took my bag out of the trunk, slinging it over his shoulder.

MC: That's pretty heavy. How about you let me carry it myself?

Evan: Since we're going to be travelling together anyway, how about we both give it our best?

MC: Alright then. Thanks!

❖☆———————————★❖

Stepping into the forest, lush green foliage surrounded us all around.

The ubiquitous noise and lights were all isolated from here, creating a secluded and serene atmosphere.

The air was warm, humid, and carried the sweet refreshing scent of vegetation. Relaxation was literally oozing out of my pores.

I turned around to look back at Evan. He was standing ramrod straight as usual with a blank expression on his face.

MC: Evan, we're here to relax!

Evan: Thank you. I am very relaxed.

MC: You can afford to be more relaxed. Here, follow me. Open your arms like this, take a deep breath, and go "Ahh…"

He smiled helplessly at me. Just when I thought he was going to refuse, he mimicked my stance, opening his arms wide.

Evan: Ahh…

MC: Hahaha. Yup, just like that.

I took out a map and a compass from the bag.

MC: I will be the leader for today! I’ve already marked all the routes we can take. Let’s see… let’s go this way first!

Evan: Alright. As you say, leader.

We proceeded through the forest according to the directions shown on the map.

We chatted about the animals and plants that we saw as we walked. Or more accurately, Evan was the one introducing them all to me.

Evan: Sorry. It must be boring hearing me talk about all these.

MC: Nope. I’m actually even more interested after hearing you talk about them.

MC: Also, your expression changes into something a little different from what I’m used to whenever you talk about something you like.

Evan: Something that I like? I’m not really sure if it constitutes as me liking it, but I think I’ll like it if you do.

He smiled in a manner as if he didn’t mind it at all, stopping as he took out some tissues and a bottle of water from his bag.

Evan: Here. Wipe your sweat and hydrate yourself.

MC: Thanks.

The soft bubbling of running water entered our ears as we stopped to rest.

MC: Looks like there's a small rover up ahead, just like how it's drawn in the map!

Evan: Looks like the leader's leading well.

❖☆———————————★❖

Following the sound of running water, we soon found the river.

The clear stream rushed across the pebbles, the crystalline liquid glittering under the golden light of the sun. The wind that blew past the waters was very cool and very refreshing. It felt great on my slightly worn-out body.

MC: The cool breeze here by the river’s really nice! And the sound of dripping water’s also very calming.

Evan: Looks like there’s a flat rock over there where we can sit.

Evan: Do you want to rest for a bit?

I want to…

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 4 + 6 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 7 + 8 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ☆Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #陆沉 #Evan #For Night For Revolution #繁荫秘语 #Umbrae Secrets

16 notes · View notes

slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Shotgun - m. tkachuk

And here is 8.7k of a road trip with Matthew Tkachuk, which honestly, is the real dream. Let me know what you think of it, reblog (I love looking at tags!!) and pop into my inbox if you’d like!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a nice brut rosé - crisp, fruity, bubbly. Plus, I like the vibes.

It all started with a text. What are the chances you can get the week after next off? Matthew had sent. Madison’s brow furrowed. Doubtful, but I can try. Are you going to tell me what this is about? There was a week left in the season before playoffs started, and with the points spread in the Pacific being what it was, the matchups were all but locked in. It took less than a minute to get a response. No :) I’ll let you know once you get an answer. She got approved for the time off two days later. Her phone rang as soon as she texted him the news. “How do you feel about road trips?”

---

Maddy had met Matthew about a little over a year prior, soon after she moved to Calgary from her hometown of Toronto. Having finished her first week of work as a computer programmer, there was nothing Madison wanted more than to let loose and enjoy a few drinks with her friends. She was sharing a two-bedroom with her best friend Emily, who Maddy would swear up and down was the sunniest, warmest, most kind person she’d ever met. Not like Maddy wasn’t a nice person — she was — but where her idea of relaxing meant going out bouldering, or camping, or a last-minute road trip, Emily was more of a homebody.

But going out meant going out, and so Emily was happily dragged along to a bar downtown; which one, she couldn’t really say. Madison walked up to the bar as soon as they entered, catching the bartender’s eye and ordering a Tom Collins. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited, glancing around the room. It was ten o’clock on a Friday night, so it was plenty packed. “What are you getting?” Madison asked Emily curiously.

She held up her Molson. “I’m a woman of simple tastes. Plus, I didn’t feel like waiting around for the bartender to actually make me a drink,” Emily added dryly.

Maddy rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of going out to a bar when you’re just going to be drinking something you could get at the liquor store?” Emily stuck her tongue out. The bartender slid Maddy’s glass over, taking her card and swiping it through quickly. “Thank you!” she chirped, whipping around to head over and snag a free table she had seen a few minutes before.

She never ended up getting to the table. Instead, she ran straight into 6 feet, 2 inches of pure Midwestern beef. “Woah!” Matthew said, steadying her as she watched her glass fall to the floor, thankfully not breaking but absolutely spilling its entire contents over the wood. “You good?”

Madison nodded, grabbing a rag from the bartender. Matthew followed suit, joining her on the floor. “Got a little on my shoes, but it’ll be fine. They won’t stain.”

Matthew nodded, giving a final wipe before taking her rag and handing both back over the counter. “Did me spilling your drink all over you ruin my chances of getting your name?”

“Madison St. Pierre,” she said, laughing and sticking out a hand for him to shake.

“Matthew Tkachuk, but—”

Maddy cut him off. “I probably already know that?” Matthew ducked his head sheepishly. “I may be a long-suffering Leafs fan, but I don’t live under a rock.”

He took a sip of his beer, leaning up against the bar. “Not from around here, eh?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just moved a couple weeks ago. I’m from Toronto, moved here for a job. I do computer programming,” she said by way of explanation.

“A smart girl.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, “I feel bad about spilling your drink on you, let me buy you another.”

Maddy laughed. “If you insist. It’s really the least you could do.”

Matthew nodded at the bartender, ordering her another Tom Collins and putting it on his tab. “You and your friend are more than welcome to join us,” he gestured behind him to where the rest of his group was sitting, “we were playing a drinking game and could use a few more players anyway.”

And that was how Matthew met Maddy.

---

Day 1

Ten days later, Madison was hefting her duffel bag into the trunk of her Nissan. It was 7:00 on a Tuesday. Normally on a day off she’d be taking advantage of every possible minute of sleep she could get, but lines to cross the border could be long and they wanted to get to Montana by lunch. She waved goodbye to Emily, hopping in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Matthew had initially suggested they just get a rental car, since it would save Maddy the 20-hour drive back. But a quick Google search let them know that the chances of finding a company willing to let them drop off a Canadian car in Nevada were slim to none. Plus, Maddy had always liked driving, so it wasn’t really an issue for her. They weren’t going to be alone on the trip; Matthew had invited Elias and Rasmus along. She felt a little bit like a school bus driver, stopping at Elias’s complex to pick him up, then Rasmus’ condo, finally pulling into the underground lot of Matthew’s apartment building. Holding one hand up in greeting, he wheeled his suitcases over to her car.

Maddy unblocked her seatbelt, hopping out to help him. “Why on earth did you need so many bags?” she huffed, turning one on its side and wedging it in between hers and Elias’s.

He shrugged. “I’ve got a bag for the trip, a bag of actual clothes and workout stuff for the series, and the suit bag.” He hung the offending article on a hook. “Did you think I’d be able to set my vanity aside for a whole four days?”

“I should have known that would be too much to ask.”

Matty threw his head back, laughing. “Anyone ever told you how funny you are, Mads?”

“Once or twice, Ratthew,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Maddy hopped back in the driver’s seat, jamming the key in the ignition and turning the engine on. “Next stop, boys, is America.”

---

Well technically, the next stop was a gas station off of Highway 2, about twenty minutes from the border. “Wait, wait,” Matthew said, a conspiratorial grin on his face as Madison took the pump out of the gas tank.

She raised one eyebrow. “What?”

He made grabby hands at her keys. “Let me drive.”

“Why?” Madison asked. “I’ve been driving for like what, two hours? I’m not tired yet.”

“I’m the only American in the car.”

Maddy put the pump back. “And?”

Matthew looked sheepish. “Someone said that the border patrol officers will tell Americans ‘welcome home’ when they’re coming back. It’s never happened to me flying so I wanted to see if it would be different in a car.”

“If it means that much to you?” she said, tossing the keys over the hood of the car. Matthew caught them. Maddy rounded the back of the car before she could see him ducking his head, blushing.

They arrived at the Piegan/Carway crossing shortly after. With exactly zero cars in front of them, Matthew pulled straight up to the booth.

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer said, looking into the driver’s side.

“Three of us play hockey, we’re road tripping down to Las Vegas before our playoff series starts in a few days,” Matty answered easily.

He nodded. “And how long will you be in the States for?”

It was clear either this man had never watched a series of professional sports in his life, or he was just following a standard script. “Depends?” Matthew said, fully aware of how questionable that sounded.

Maddy piped up from the passenger seat. “I’m driving the car back, so I’ll be back in eight days.”

“Right,” Matthew nodded, “But this trip to the US, we’ll be back in seven days. We’re flying back on the team plane, so it’s not a land crossing.” He decided to forego mentioning that, barring a sweep, they’d be back again in two weeks.

The poor officer looked bewildered. “Team plane?”

Matty shrugged his shoulders. “We play for the Calgary Flames, the team charters a plane to fly us from Calgary to wherever we’re playing and back. We decided to take the scenic route this time.”

“Okay,” he said, but Madison still wasn’t convinced he actually understood what Matty was saying. If the border officer thought anything of the American, Canadian, and Swedish passports he was handed, he didn’t say anything. Giving a cursory glance, he handed them back. “Welcome back,” he nodded to Matthew, waving the car through the gate. Matthew pumped his fist.

---

An hour later, Matthew pulled into a dirt parking lot on the edge of Glacier National Park. “WE MADE IT!” he exclaimed, putting the car in park and throwing his hands up.

“We drove three hours,” Elias said from the back seat.

“And?” Matty challenged, opening the door.

Maddy grabbed her backpack, stuffed with sandwiches and snacks that they had gotten on their way in. “If you guys brought hiking boots or good tennis shoes, now’s the time,” she said, lacing up her own boots. “There’s a loop around here that’s a little under four miles long, doesn’t sound like it’s too difficult but there is some elevation climb, so better safe than sorry.” People typically didn’t peg her for it, but Maddy was a very outdoorsy person at heart. She had taken up rock climbing in high school, and was a regular at the bouldering gyms back in Toronto until she moved. She’d found a climbing gym she liked well enough in Calgary, but with Banff just over an hour away from the city, the park had become her go-to for climbing and hiking. Matty had come with her on more than one occasion, and had surprised her with a long weekend camping for her birthday in March. The snow hadn’t all melted yet, and waking up to the powder-dusted fir trees outside of their tent had been one of the most beautiful sights of her life.

“Everyone’s got a full water bottle?” she asked, tying up her hair. The last thing anyone wanted was to get heatstroke in one of the most remote parts of the park with only one phone that could even connect to an American cell tower.

The group started off at a leisurely pace, wandering off-trail to check out anything and everything that caught their interest. The edge of the St. Mary Valley served as the perfect backdrop for lunch, Maddy pulling the sandwiches out from her bag and doling them out. “Oh thank God, I’m starving,” Elias said, grabbing his food from Maddy practically before she even had it in her hand.

“Did you not have breakfast?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. “I did, but I’m still hungry. Should have brought snacks.” Off to his side, Matty snickered.

Day 2

Elias had volunteered to take over from Matthew to drive through the night, switching off sometime around sunrise with Rasmus. “I 100% have a crick in my neck,” Maddy grimaced, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and checking her phone.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew smiled. Maddy groaned, leaning into his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, taking a few gulps before setting it back down on the floor of the car, where it promptly rolled away.

“Who do I have to blow to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” Maddy groaned. Matthew almost choked on his water. He had to get his mind off of the idea of Maddy blowing anything or he was about to have an issue. He pulled out his phone, jumping on Google maps.

“There’s a little coffee shop a few miles ahead, off of the Spruce Drive exit?” he asked tentatively.

She yawned. “As long as they sell caffeine, I’m game.” They did indeed sell caffeine, and after inhaling two cappuchinos and a small mountain of pastries later, Maddy hopped back behind the wheel. “You sure bear claws and muffins are on the meal plan, boys?” she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

Rasmus waved her off. “It’s not like you’re going to rat us out, are you?”

She shrugged, wiggling her phone in her hand as she pulled up at a stoplight. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have Coach’s number in my phone.”

Matty plucked her phone from her hand, placing it back by the center console. “Be that as it may, sweet Madison, you neglect to remember that I’m the only one with coverage in the U.S.” He might not strike most people as a particularly sentimental person, but Matthew loved his family, and decided that the extra charge was well worth being able to call his parents and sister whenever he was missing them.

She stuck her tongue out at Matthew. “You ruin all of my fun, you know that?” All he did was grin. The drive to Mesa Falls wasn’t long at all, they had just finished their food — Matty popping bites of muffin into Madison’s mouth as she drove — when she pulled over to the curb by the sign. Maddy threw the boys’ backpacks to them, pointing to the single bathroom stall in the tiny rest area. “Go change, I’ll use the car.”

“Why can’t we have the car?” Matthew complained.

She looked at him. “Three full-grown men, all over six feet, in one car. I know you see each other’s dicks all day in the locker room, but I’d really rather not have that in my car. Think.”

Matty made an “o” with his mouth. “Gotcha.”

Swim trunks were much easier to get on than a wrap bikini, Madison was finding, and the boys were finished changing well before she was done figuring out her top. She bit her lip, poking her head out of the door. “Matty?”

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Could you help me tie this?” she asked, gesturing to the halter top. “I think it’s stuck or something.”

Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he tried to stutter through a sentence. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. For sure,” he said, shuffling over to the car. He gently untwisted the straps, gathering them into a bow at the base of her neck and trying very, very hard to not think about how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers. This was one of his best friends. And best friends weren’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff. Right?

Behind them, Elias and Rasmus shared a glance. They had expected something was going on between them, really ever since the party in November, but this was something new. They had never seen Matthew gone this far for a girl before. And they liked this side of him.

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his shoulder before disappearing back into the car to throw on a coverup. “How long is the walk to the actual waterfalls?”

“Not long,” Elias responded. “Ten minutes or so?” It was an easy walk to the falls, which were mercifully empty when they got there. They kicked off their sandals, leaving the bags under a nearby bush. Matthew knew Madison was pretty. She wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a saint; she had seen him shirtless more times than he could count and he had seen her come out of his guest room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt of his after she stayed the night. His thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent. But as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in that damn red bikini, he was convinced he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight.

She turned around just as Matthew tore his eyes away, looking mischievously at him. “Last one in?” They sprinted to the water. Matty let her win.

---

About half of their stops had been planned in advance; the others were pulled from websites or Google suggestions or whatever their waitress’ recommendation was for a local must-see. The Idaho Potato Museum fell into the latter category. Rasmus had floated the idea shortly after they had left Mesa Falls, and seeing as how nobody had anything better to suggest, they ran with it.

“Free taters for out of staters,” Matthew said, reading off of the pamphlet they had been handed at the welcome desk.

“Will they give me extra since I’m Canadian?” Madison wondered aloud. “For all intents and purposes they think you live in Missouri, Matty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, she didn’t even think twice.

He passed the paper to her, the tips of their fingers barely brushing together, but Matthew could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t get greedy, Mads.” They walked down a dimly-lit hallway lined with black-and-white photos.

“Did you know that the first potatoes grown in the United States were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants?” Elias read off of a placard, his voice sounding like a disinterested radio announcer.

Maddy shook her head. “I didn’t, thank you so much for imparting on me this most important knowledge, Elias.”

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“Did you know that you could survive off of a diet of only potatoes and butter?” Rasmus chimed in, reading another sign.

“Really?” Matthew asked, leaning in to read. He turned to Madison a moment later. “Really, apparently.”

Half an hour of wandering later, Matthew and Madison had stumbled into the “artifacts” portion of the museum. “What kind of artifacts does a potato museum have?” Maddy asked, looking supremely confused.

Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we see?” For some reason, he decided it would be a good idea to hold his hand out for her. And for some reason, Maddy took it.

The “artifacts” turned out to consist of some old farm tools, dusty burlap sacks, and the world’s largest potato chip. Elias and Ramsus were on the other side of the museum, leaving Matthew and Madison to drift through alone. “Crisp, actually,” Matthew said, reading the card under the glass case. “Because I guess they’re worried about people stealing it?”

“There’s a difference?”

He shrugged. “Apparently it’s only a chip if it’s a slice of potato. This was made from dehydrated potato flakes, or something like that.” Maddy wasn’t sure if it was the sepia-tinted lighting, or the lingering memory of how Matty’s fingertips burned like fire against her back as he tied her bikini, or if there was something particularly romantic about dehydrated potato flakes, but they were alone in the room and suddenly she was looking at him a little bit differently. Matthew looked at her, gaze soft as his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly down towards her lips. Her lips. His body leaned in, and just as she closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, wondering if they were really going to do this in the middle of the Idaho fucking Potato Museum—

“We were wondering where you guys had gone off to!” Elias’s Swedish accent cut through the silence. Matthew threw his head back, silently cursing his teammate’s timing. If Elias and Rasmus realized anything was off, they didn’t say. “The lady at the front said it’s closing in ten minutes, so we thought we should head out and get something to eat.”

Maddy nodded in agreement, her cheeks burning. “Sounds good. I could go for some food.” They made their way back outside, Matthew settling behind the wheel as he steered the car back onto the highway. He tried to shake the almost-kiss from his mind, but the more he tried to forget it, the more the memory stuck.

Elias looked down at his phone. “Yelp says there’s an Indian place coming up on the left if that sounds good to you guys,” he said, shaking Matthew from his thoughts.

Maddy scrunched her nose. “All due respect, I don’t trust this town to make good Indian food. Potatoes, burgers, meat, sure. I buy it. But I haven’t seen a single person of color since we left Glacier.”

“Fair.”

The burgers were good; nothing to write home about, but Maddy was honestly thrilled to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag. The plan had originally been to drive through the night again to reach Salt Lake City by the early morning, but Maddy made it clear her back didn’t take too well to sleeping in the car, and the others agreed. “Rasmus, mind finding a hotel nearby? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just somewhere not too far off of the freeway,” Madison asked. He nodded, pulling out his phone. They had gotten tired of passing around Matthew’s phone anytime they were out of Wifi range, so after a little complaining and one of Maddy’s puppy-dog eye looks, he finally relented and turned his hotspot on.

“There’s a Holiday Inn up off of the next exit if that sounds good to you guys,” Rasmus said. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Post Malone song that Matty had plugged in. They switched the aux every few hours.

“Yeah, works for me.” Madison hummed her agreement; Matty nodded. Rasmus flicked on the blinkers, gently cruising down the offramp, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn about half a mile down the road.

Madison bit the inside of her cheek. “They’re going to have rooms available, yeah?”

“Mads, it’s May in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. I don’t exactly think they’ve got business lining up out the door.” Matty said, looking at her from the side as they walked into the hotel lobby.

The whole trip was Matthew’s idea, so he insisted on footing the bill, handing his credit card and license over to the receptionist. Maddy snickered behind her hand. Matthew turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Something you’d like to share with the class, Madison?”

“Missouri licenses look weird,” she commented.

“And Alberta’s any better?”

She scrunched her nose. “We have a dinosaur on ours. Beat that.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” Matty said, the corner of his lip twitching as he thanked the receptionist, tucking the cards back into his wallet. She handed over the room keys, Matthew passing two to Rasmus and Elias and one to Maddy. “I had us together, if you don’t mind.”

Madison shook her head. “Fine with me.” It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at Matthew’s apartment, either after going out or when their movie nights ran a little long and she woke up to Matty tucking her into the bed in his guest room. She had a toothbrush in his bathroom, a change of clothes in the dresser. She had offered to take her stuff back a few months ago, not wanting any girl he might bring over to get the wrong idea. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he had said when she asked, waving her off. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any girl home — that she knew about — since sometime around the beginning of the year.

They waved goodbye to Rasmus and Elias, promising to wake up bright and early to get the first crack at the breakfast buffet when it opened at 7. Matty swiped his card, holding the door open when the light turned green and the knob twisted. “After you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, good sir,” Maddy giggled, ducking under his arm into the entryway. She stopped at the end of the hall, eyes flickering into the room.

Matthew stopped behind her. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one bed.”

His head jerked around the corner, not like he doubted her word or anything, but he needed to see it for himself. There was only one bed. One big bed, one very comfortable-looking bed, but one bed. Matty dropped his bag on the floor. “Uh...D’you want me to call down? I can see if they’ve got another room if that would make you more comfortable.”

Madison pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re adults, we can share a bed without burning the house down.” It wasn’t like Maddy was lying for Matthew’s sake; she really was fine with it. Maybe a little too fine. But they had slept together — in the innocent sense of the word — before, and everything had turned out okay. His arm draped over her shoulder as she cuddled into his shoulder on a late night, her legs tangled in his when some of his friends from St. Louis were visiting for the weekend and took the guest room. He had offered to take the couch that night, but Maddy didn’t want to relegate him to a night of back cramps and drafty breezes, especially when he had an early practice the next day. Nobody ever made it weird, so it wasn’t weird.

She took her bundle of clothes into the shower, relishing in the feeling of hot water raining down on her aching muscles. Maddy was loving the trip, genuinely, but being in a car for twelve hours out of the day took something out of a person. Slipping into an old college t-shirt, Madison thought for a moment about putting on a pair of sweats. It wasn’t particularly cold — the opposite, in fact — but she didn’t know if it would make Matthew feel weird if she wasn’t wearing pants. Fuck it, she thought, pulling up her boyshorts. If he had an issue with it, it was his problem. Throwing her hair up in a towel to dry, she turned the doorknob, poking her head out the door. “Shower’s open if you wanted to hop in,” she said.

Matty nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t be too long, why don’t you find something for us to watch?” he asked, tossing her the remote. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and while she was tired, Maddy knew if she tried to go to sleep she’d wake up well before dawn, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted. Madison climbed up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her and grabbed the channel guide. True to his word, Matthew was in and out in under ten minutes, rubbing his hair with a towel as he walked out. Athletic shorts. Shirtless. Maddy couldn’t help but give him the once-over, having to jerk her eyes back up to his face the moment she realized what she was doing. Matthew met her eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “I can put a shirt on if you’d like…”

“No! You’re good,” Maddy replied, maybe a little too quickly to avoid suspicion.

He ducked back into the bathroom, throwing the towel over the shower curtain. “So, what did you settle on?”

She looked back at the TV. “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives?”

Matty jumped onto the bed. “Guy Fieri. What a legend. Awesome. Where’s he going?”

Three and a half episodes later, it was almost eleven, and Madison’s eyes were starting to droop. Sometime midway through the second episode, when Guy was visiting an Asian fusion restaurant in Colorado, her head had drifted onto Matthew’s shoulder, where it had stayed ever since. His arm wrapped loosely around her, Matty brought his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair that had drifted into her face. “Getting sleepy, Mads?”

She yawned, nodding and trying to push herself up. “‘M looking forward to a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Let’s get you in bed, then.” He threw back the comforter, Madison crawling under, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the lamps and TV. “Give me your phone,” he said.

“Why?” Maddy asked, her brow furrowing.

“You always forget to charge it overnight, and I don’t want you to be grumpy when it dies at 10 AM.” She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a concession, handing over her iPhone. Matty plugged it in, clambering beneath the sheets. “Sweet dreams, Mads. Good night.”

“Night, Matty.”

Day 3

The first thing Madison noticed when she woke up was the warm, unfamiliar weight slung around her waist. It took her a moment to realize that it was Matty’s arm, who hadn’t woken up yet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite identify, or maybe didn’t want to confront quite yet, it wasn’t unwelcome at all, and she savored the last few minutes of physical closeness before he woke up. And he did, wake up, that is. His cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, pulling his arm away to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Maddy ducked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mind.”

Matthew yawned. “What time is it?”

“Uh, just before seven,” she said, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. “I’d love to stay in bed a little longer, but we did promise the boys we’d meet them down at breakfast soon.”

He nodded, making a very concerted effort to not read into her statements any more than he absolutely had to. “Yeah, good idea,” he said, tossing the covers off and walking into the bathroom. “I’ll sit on you if you’re not up by the time I get back out there.” Maddy took the opportunity to change, threading a belt through her jeans and half-tucking a t-shirt. “I like the look,” he said when he walked out, as Maddy was twisting her hair up into a bun. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Matthew to compliment her; she had accompanied him to more than one charity event for the Flames as his date, but she had always been dressed up. Dress, heels, makeup that she probably stressed way too much over. Dressed to the nines, never in jeans and a t-shirt before. But she didn’t really notice, the compliment meaning just as much to her as if she’d been in a floor-length gown.

“Thanks,” she said, stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her duffel. “I packed the rest of your bag while you were in there, figured I might as well.”

It was Matty’s turn to thank her, squeezing her hand appreciatively before giving the room a quick look. “We didn’t forget anything, then?”

Madison laughed. “We really didn’t stay long enough to unpack, but yeah, we’ve got everything, don’t worry.”

---

Elias had volunteered to do the drive down to Salt Lake City. Matthew’s inner six-year-old had returned, insisting that the group stop at a dinosaur park in a rural part of Utah. What “dinosaur park” meant, Madison wasn’t sure, but it made Matty happy, so she didn’t fight it.

The museum was mostly outdoors, with life-sized dinosaur models dotting the massive field. “Were you much into dinosaurs as a kid?” Matthew asked Madison.

“Kind of?” she replied noncommittally. “I always loved learning about them, but never had like a ‘dinosaur phase’ like David or Cody,” she said, referring to her older brothers. “My family used to go to the Canadian Museum of Nature a ton when I was a kid, since it was only a few hours away in Ottawa, and it has like a billion fossils in it.”

“Which was your favorite?”

“Pachycephalosaurus,” she said easily.

Matthew blinked. “Pachycephalo-what?” he asked in confusion. He thought he knew all of them?

Maddy laughed. “Pachycephalosaurus. They had these really spiny heads. But secretly, I think I was a little bit of a teacher’s pet who just liked saying the name. Pretty sure they were actually native to Alberta?” she added. “What about you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Matty gave in, “it was the brachiosaurus.”

“How come?” she asked curiously.

“I liked the long necks.”

They spent another hour or so at the park, Matty grabbing a keychain on the way out. “They didn’t have a brachiosaurus,” he muttered, half-angry, picking up a T-rex one instead. It wasn’t a long drive to the actual Great Salt Lake, and for some reason, they had trusted Elias with the aux. Much to Maddy’s chagrin, he didn’t end up playing ABBA, and they were instead led to cruise down I-15 to the dulcet tones of J.S. Bach.

Madison looked down at her phone. “Anyone want to go see the Joseph Smith sphinx?”

“Joseph Smith?” Rasmus questioned.

“Sphinx?” asked Elias.

Matthew laughed. “You know those Egyptian statues of like the cat ladies? Where they have cat bodies but the faces of people?”

“Joseph Smith was the founder of the Mormon church,” Madison explained. “Well, technically it’s called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but—”

“Know-it-all,” Matty said in a sing-song voice. Madison shot a glare at him from the back seat.

“But most people still call them Mormons. And apparently they made him into a sphinx.”

Elias looked at her, still dumbfounded. “But why?”

Maddy shrugged. “Honestly? Beats me.” The weather had dropped too much by the time they had reached the lake to make swimming very practical, so the four of them settled for taking off their shoes, rolling up pants, and wading into the shoreline.

Matthew bent down, picking up a chipped white rock from the ground, the water just lapping at his fingers. He handed it to Madison. “For you.”

She took it gently, running her hands over the jagged surface. “Aren’t you not allowed to take anything from a national park?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” They stopped at a Chipotle just as the sun was beginning to set, Matthew taking over driving duties from Rasmus. The plan was to drive for another two hours or so, stopping somewhere in southern Utah for the night to spare themselves from another night spent in her Nissan.

They drove in silence for a while, Elias and Rasmus drifting to sleep in the back row, before a road sign caught Matty’s eyes and he spoke. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, you know,” he said as they continued down I-15.

Maddy looked over at him. “Do you want to go?” She didn’t know where the suggestion came from, but it was out of her mouth before she could take it back, and after a moment, she realized that she didn’t even want to.

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over at her before turning back to the road, the car’s headlights the only thing in sight. “You mean it?”

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” She quickly popped the directions into her phone. “It’s only a few hours out of the way, if we drive through the night instead of stopping somewhere we should have more than enough time.”

“But didn’t you say sleeping in the car made your back hurt?” Matty asked curiously.

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll drive. You’re more important.” Honestly, Maddy surprised herself with her boldness. She wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t escaped her that the dynamic between her and Matthew had changed in the past few weeks and was about to come to a boil. Matty wasn’t exactly the type of guy Madison expected to have a lot of friends who were girls. And a part of her hated that, hated that because of his reputation she automatically assumed when they became friends that all he wanted to do was get in her pants. There had only been one time in their entire year of friendship when they’d even done so much as kissed, and it wasn’t exactly what you’d consider normal circumstances.

---

It was November of the previous year, about six months after Matthew and Madison had met. Matthew had been even more in his head than normal; he hadn’t scored a single point since midway through their East Coast road trip over two weeks ago, and the disappointment was really starting to rag on him. It might not have been something he outwardly showed all that much, but those who knew him knew that Matthew was actually a deeply sensitive person, who took pride in his wins and carried losses with him well after they had faded from the minds of the rest of the hockey world.

When it had gotten to the point where his frustration was starting to affect his game, Maddy knew it was time to do something. “You’re so much more than your stats, Matty,” she had said, calling him right before she left for the Saddledome. “I know you take this personally, and you feel like you’re letting down the team, but that’s bullshit and somewhere deep down, I know you agree.” Matthew grumbled something that might have been an agreement. “Your team trusts you, they trust you with the puck and with the A, and you’re never going to disappoint them as long as you’re giving it your all. And if you’re the Matthew Tkachuk I know, there’s never a time when you don’t. And win or lose tonight, there’s nothing you could do to change the fact that your family loves you, and your friends love you, and I love you too. Okay?” Clearly, something in her little pep talk had flipped a switch in Matty, because he returned in spectacular form that night, scoring a hat trick in a roaring 5-1 win over the Coyotes. And he didn’t throw a single punch all game.

A good game without a travel day following usually calls for going out, and a great game with your best friend scoring a hat trick definitely calls for going out, so she dragged Emily along to the bar that Matthew had told her to meet the team at. Matthew had pulled her into a hug the moment she arrived, kissing her cheek and trying his damndest not to spill the beer in his hand on her shoes. An hour and a half into the night, Madison was four drinks in, well and truly drunk, and Emily had wandered off and appeared to be flirting with an extremely oblivious Noah Hanifin.

“How are you doing, Mads?” Matthew asked, coming up from behind her barstool and resting his hand gently on the small of her back.

She looked back at him, a goofy smile on her face, and took another sip of her drink. “I’m good, I’m realllly good,” she giggled. “Did I ever get a chance to tell you how good you were tonight?” Matthew shook his head, very poorly concealing a laugh. He had had more than one beer, sure, but he was nowhere near as gone as Madison. “Because you were really good. A-ma-zing,” she added, punctuating each syllable. Her eyes softened as she leaned in. “I know the points drought was starting to weigh on you, and I’m really glad you were able to do this for yourself. I’m always proud of you, Matty, but I was a little extra proud of you tonight. People sometimes write you off as just another good player without any real subsistence,” she paused, correcting herself, “substance, off the ice, but I know the real you, and the real you is even more incredible than the you that plays hockey. It’s my favorite thing to see.”

“It is?” Matthew asked softly, leaning into the hand that had begun to caress his cheek a little bit imprecisely, but that somehow communicated every kind of unsaid word between them.

Madison nodded, touching his forehead to hers, and then she tilted in. And then she kissed him. Her lips met his, and she tasted like lime and spearmint chewing gum and his favorite kind of tequila. Her lips met his, and it seemed like the room stood still; he barely heard his teammates’ wolf-whistles or Emily’s elated gasp in the background. Her lips met his, and he drank in every second of the kiss until she pulled away.

---

Maddy hadn’t been drunk enough to black out that night, and she came to the next morning with a roaring headache and the pang of regret in her heart. She thought it was shame at her behavior, embarrassment that she could act so impulsively, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized. The fact that she kissed Matthew wasn’t the issue, not to her, at least. It was the fact that she was drunk in a bar after a hockey game and that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She pushed her feelings to the side, trying desperately to focus on work and supporting Matty through the rest of the season, but they always tended to flare up when they were least welcome. Like at the Idaho Potato Museum.

Which of course meant that Matthew would choose this moment, driving down I-15 with two sleeping Swedish hockey players in the backseat, to bring it up. “I remember when you kissed me, you know,” Matty said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over his lips, like if he tried hard enough he could remember what it felt like to have Maddy’s pressed against his.

Madison froze, which isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to do when you’re driving. She thought he had forgotten. He had never brought it up, so she really had no reason to believe he would have remembered. “You do?” she asked, swallowing.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mhm. I hadn’t thought about it in a couple weeks, but back in Idaho, in front of the World’s Largest Potato Crisp…” He let out an airy chuckle.

Maddy breathed in sharply. So she hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers tapped nervously against the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah…” She trailed off nervously. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were hammered,” Matthew agreed. “But do you regret it?”

There it was, the million-dollar question that she somehow actually had the answer to. A long moment passed before she answered, figuring it would be best to just rip the band-aid off. Worst case, Matty would hate her and she’d only be stuck in a car with him for ten-odd more hours. No big deal. “No,” she whispered, voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m glad, because I don’t either,” Matty said. Madison hazarded a glance to her side; he looked almost nervous, and nervous wasn’t a look Matthew Tkachuk did all that often. “I had wanted to for a few months, but it always seemed like it was never the right time, or something interrupted us, or I didn’t know how you felt about me. But you made the first move, and I’m glad you did.”

“How come?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how long I would have waited to do something, or if I ever would have done anything. I feel like sometimes…,” he searched for the right words, “the confidence that I have on the ice can be misleading. Hockey is about reflexes and instincts and knowing the game, but it’s also thinking three steps ahead, anticipating every possible outcome and preparing for them. And that’s the part that I carry off the ice. I think I was worried if I ever brought it up with you, if I ever mentioned that I so much as remembered the kiss, you might clam up and tell me it was a stupid, drunken mistake, and I don’t know what I’d do if you said that. Because I don’t know how you feel about me, not like that”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out, as scared as she was about admitting them. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Matthew had never seen Madison like this before, unsure and worried and downright vulnerable, and it meant so much to him that she was letting him see her like that.

Matthew let out a watery laugh. “Only pretty sure? Hurts my ego a little bit.” Maddy opened her mouth, but he waved her off. “Because I’m definitely sure I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t ever how she imagined telling him, and it wasn’t how Matty thought he’d tell her, on a freeway in Southern Utah on their way to the Grand Canyon, but sometimes life throws unexpected things at you and you have to roll with the punches.

“When did you know?” Madison asked curiously.

Matthew bit his lip. “Few months ago? I knew I liked you as more than a friend probably since you kissed me, but it was after that game against Vancouver that I really understood I had fallen in love with you.” Maddy remembered the game. It had gone terribly for the Flames, a 4-0 shutout with more than one fight and the bench racking up penalty minutes. What she didn’t know was what made that one special. Matthew looked over at her, answering her unspoken question. “Why that one?” She nodded. “I think it’s because it was such a shitty game. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you had just skipped out after the end of the third, I know I can be hard to deal with after a loss. But you didn’t leave, you stayed. I remember seeing you outside the tunnel, swallowed by my jersey because it’s three sizes too big for you and you refuse to let me buy you another—”

“I don’t want another because it’s yours, and I love it,” Maddy said quietly.

Matthew smiled. “Your call. But when I turned the corner and saw you, I realized three things at the exact same time. You were there for me when you didn’t have to be, and I wanted to be able to do the same thing for you. Second, you’re who I wanted to come home to. And last,” he gathered his thoughts, “I realized if I never saw another girl in my jersey for the rest of my life, that would be fine with me.”

“I think I knew when you introduced me to your family, when you flew me down for the All-Star break?” He nodded in recognition. “Just seeing you with them, how much you love your parents and adore Taryn. You even managed to not chirp Brady for a whole dinner.”

“My mom threatened me.”

Madison laughed. “Even so. It just gave me a whole new side to you. I had seen you with your friends, and with the boys, and with me, but it wasn’t the same. How deeply you cared about making sure I fit in with them, and had fun, and felt included. It was the last piece of the puzzle, really.” Her hand rested on the center console after she downshifted.

“So, are we going to do this? Do you want to do this, Mads?” Matty asked, wrapping his fingertips gently around her free hand.

Flipping her hand around, she interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m all in if you are.”

Matthew bent down, kissing their hands. “I’ve been all in since the moment I met you.” He glanced behind him to the backseat, where Elias and Rasmus were still fast asleep. “What do you think they’re going to say when they wake up?”

“I’m not sure,” Madison said, laughing. “Probably tell us it’s about time. Pass me my phone, will you?” Matthew pulled out her phone from where it was charging on the passenger side.

“What do you need to look up?” he asked curiously as she pulled off of the freeway and into a gas station; the directions were already programmed into the car’s navigation system.

Maddy gave a coy smile, gently putting the car into park. “I’ve got to text the girl’s chat, tell them they’ve got to make me a jacket. They’re going to go wild.”

Day 4

The chat did go wild, even more so after she sent a picture of her kissing Matty’s cheek. After about a half-dozen “we called its” and a promise for her jacket to be ready by the first home game of the series, she turned her phone off, leaning over to ruffle Matthew’s hair; he had taken over driving sometime around four o’clock. “I like that I can just do this now,” she mused, playing with his curls as they crossed the border into Arizona.

“Please, no PDA in front of the children,” he said playfully, gesturing to the backseat. Elias flipped him off.

The entrance to the Grand Canyon was only an hour past the state line, and there were more than a few cafés to grab a quick breakfast at. Most of the day was spent walking around the vast expanse of the park, marvelling at its natural grandeur, and taking more than a few incredibly aesthetically pleasing Instagram pictures. A few minutes before they had to pack up and leave for the last leg of the drive, they had hiked over to the South Rim.

Matty leaned on the barriers overlooking the canyon. “It’s so big.”

Rasmus snickered from behind them. “Duh, Tkachuk. That’s why they call it grand.”

He ducked his head, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, obviously. But it’s just kind of surreal, you know?” Madison nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and if either of them had turned around they would have seen Rasmus and Elias sharing a very “I-told-you-so” look. “Kind of reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things.”

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were pulling into Las Vegas, Rasmus steering the car into the underground lot of the team hotel. None of the boys were expected at practice until the next morning, and they had decided before leaving that the easiest thing to do would just be to book the rooms for the one night.

“Anyone feeling up to going out?” Maddy asked as they walked down the hallway to their adjoining rooms. “I found a tiki bar a couple blocks away, great Yelp reviews.”

“Sounds good,” Rasmus said. Elias nodded.

“I’m in,” Matthew added, unlocking the door. “Meet out here in ten?”

The break allowed Madison to get a much-needed change of clothes while Matthew hopped in for a quick shower, emerging in a T-shirt and very, very nice-looking pair of black jeans. Maddy bit her lip, looking him up and down. “You like what you see?” Matthew asked, expression cocky.

She shrugged. “I don’t have to hide it now.” Madison slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over the lounge chair. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, poking his head out the door. “Boys are already out.”

The walk to the bar couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like twenty in the best way possible. She was holding hands with Matty, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand, the twinkling lights of dozens of Vegas casinos in their view. Two and a half mai tais and an hour later, the group sat at a table in the corner as Maddy giggled, retelling a particularly embarrassing moment on her high school volleyball team when she tried to make a dive that instead ended up with a ten minute pause in gameplay and the worst nosebleed of her life. She finished the story to raucous laughter, leaning into Matthew’s side. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What is it, Matty?” she asked, pulling away to look at him.

Eyes soft, he tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear before speaking. “Just thanking God I invited you on the trip. And for the Idaho Potato Museum.”

Madison laughed, the sound like music as it reached his ears. “We should write them. Thank them for helping to get us together. Maybe they’d give us season tickets.”

“Who needs season tickets when I have you?” Matty chuckled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Sure, Madison was a few drinks in when she kissed him. And sure, it wasn’t like Matty was exactly sober either. But this kiss was different. This kiss was the start of everything.

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #matthew tkachuk #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #rat king

259 notes · View notes

thegirlintheswivelchair · 3 years

Text

More Than We Hoped - Ch. 2

Summary: The Daily Bugle drags Spiderman, Tony forces Peter to come up to the compound, and that black haired man packs a punch.

Word count: +6.6k

Warnings: violence, injury, blood, angst...to be honest I think that’s it for this chapter

A/N: OK so I am actually really nervous to put this chapter out. It feels a little different from what I usually do. It felt like the story took on a life of its own, and also...this is all Peter. Y/n is not in this chapter. However, I am gonna have her in the next chapter quite a bit, so hopefully that will make up for it!! Anyways...I hope you enjoy this!

(Oh and this starts off directly after chapter 1!)

series masterlist | main masterlist

——

Still Saturday

Peter sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone, “Hey, Tony.”

“Yeah, you’ve already said hello. Got anything else to say?” Tony’s voice deadpanned over the other line. It was sassy, but Peter could tell that he wasn’t necessarily in trouble...yet.

“I just woke up, what else did you want me to say?” Peter said off-handedly. He really wasn’t awake enough to handle where Tony wanted to take this conversation. Plus, he really did not know what was going on.

“I don’t know, you tell me? Why did I wake up this morning to see Spiderman’s name in a trending article from the Daily Bugle?”

“Would you believe me if I said, ‘I don’t know?’” Peter asked.

“Not really, no.” Again, Tony didn’t seem annoyed, but Peter couldn’t help but feel he might be getting a lecture somewhere down the line.

“Honestly, Tony, I haven’t even had time to read the article.” Peter responded evenly.

Tony let out a sigh, “It’s not great, Pete. Whatever you did on patrol last night—they’re spinning it like you lost control, and the guy is in the hospital because of you.”

“What?” Peter said in shock, “Hold on…”

Taking the phone away from his ear, he put Tony on speaker, so he could bring up the article to read.

The same twinge of foreboding that had hit him earlier came back as he read the headline again:

IS HE REALLY OUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SPIDERMAN? Masked Vigilante involved in near lethal apprehension of defenseless substance abuser.

Clicking the article’s link to read more, he was greeted with a photo of his superhero alter ego. The photo showed Spiderman looking like he was being cornered in an alleyway. One of his hands was lifted urging whoever was in front of him to calm down, while the other was gesturing to the heaped form behind him. Anyone looking at it could see it was a body sprawled out on the ground, but the image was such bad quality barely any details were discernible.

His eyes went quickly to read the beginning of the article:

In the early morning hours last night, distress calls were phoned in by a number of residents of the Bright Valley Apartments. They were alerting authorities of a violent disturbance in the alleyway next to their building between Spiderman and a nondescript man.

The recorded calls are still not available to the public, but an eyewitness says the man seemed frantic and was lashing out. They said Spiderman struck the man a number of times until the victim was incapacitated.

When authorities arrived at the scene, Spiderman was still present before webbing his way out of the situation without properly debriefing the authorities that came to the site. It is unclear what the masked vigilante’s intentions were with the victim that has now been identified as Wayne Campbell, who has been known to use drugs. Campbell is now in the hospital with severe internal injuries and is in critical condition.

More was said underneath, but Peter had already seen enough. The feeling of foreboding deepened into a sloshing mess of worry, hurt pride, and a sense of sadness. There was too much misinformation and exploited truths in the first few paragraphs alone for Peter to say it was anything but what it was...

“They-They wrote a slander piece about me…” He said softly, switching the phone back to normal and bringing it up to his ear.

“Looks that way...Sorry, kiddo.” Tony said in a similarly soft tone before continuing, “Know anyone you’ve pissed off lately?”

“No one I can think of,” Peter responded in a sort of mumble after sitting quiet for a moment, thinking.

“Thought you might say that. That’s why I sent Happy to grab you and bring you back to the compound, so we can get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, how about you catch me up on what Spiderman’s been getting up to.”

“What? No—Tony, I can’t just make a trip out to the compound!” Peter exclaimed.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve got...” Peter paused. He felt he was needed here, but with his brain still stuck on the article he didn’t say that. Instead what came out was, “...homework.” He finished, closing his eyes knowing how lame that excuse was.

“Yeah, that hasn’t worked for the last 12 years, not gonna work now.” Tony said matter-of-factly.

Without missing a beat, Peter quipped back, “Technically, I didn’t get to use that excuse for 5 years. So really it’s only been 7.”

“Uncalled for,” Tony said. If they had been in the lab together, Peter could imagine that his mentor would be pointing a wrench at him and raising his eyebrows to emphasize the point that he was hurting the old man. A small smile tugged at the corner of Peter’s mouth at the thought.

“So, you gonna tell me what really happened?”

The question sobered Peter quickly, making him momentarily forget about going to the compound. He blew air between pursed lips, his cheeks puffing out. “Whatever is happening is so screwed up, Tony…” Peter said quietly.

“It always is.” Tony said this with such sincerity Peter could almost hear the memories coming to life in the retired superheroes head. Tony cleared his throat and spoke up again, “Just start at the beginning.”

“Yeah, Ok.” Peter breathed out, and he began telling the story of the last 3 nightmarish nights he’d spent patrolling.

It took 45 minutes before Peter was getting to the details of last night. To his surprise, Tony had let Peter talk without much interruption, only small clarifications here and there and a hum to show he was paying attention.

Once he finally went quiet Tony spoke up, “And you haven’t found any connection between the 3 victims?”

“Not yet, I haven’t had time—” Peter was cut off by another call coming in. Looking at the contact, he saw it was Happy. He’s seriously making me go to the compound? No questions asked?

Sighing and not hiding his frustration, Peter quickly said “I gotta take this, it’s Happy.” He didn’t wait for a reply before accepting the new call. “Hey, Happy,” he said, adopting a much lighter tone than a second ago.

“Peter, where are you? I’ve been waiting outside for the last 15 minutes.” Happy said in a familiarly gruff greeting.

“Crap, you’re already here? Sorry, Happy. I’ll be right down.” Peter said as he jumped up from his spot on the bed and hung up the phone. He began grabbing at random clothes around the room, hoping they were clean, and throwing them on.

Soon, all that was left for him to do was find his other shoe. Shouldn’t be too hard right? Wrong. He turned over everything. At one point he even stood on the ceiling thinking a new angle would help him—It didn’t. Just as he was starting to get really frustrated, he found it hiding in the corner of his room where he could have sworn he’d looked at least three times before.

“Ah-ha!” He cheered triumphantly. The victory was short-lived when his phone began to blow up with texts from Happy. Each one getting steadily more grumpy in how they said he needed to get his ass moving and down to the car right now.

So in a chaotic blur of motion, Peter grabbed his lone shoe, his backpack, a granola bar from on top of his mini fridge, and jogged out of his room with only one shoe on.

As he made his way down his hallway, his phone rang for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. He picked it up without looking at the contacts name, and answered, “I know Happy, I’m on my way down right now. Couldn’t find my shoe.”

“See, I keep telling you to put trackers in them, but do you listen?” Came Tony’s amused voice over the other line.

Even though he had not expected his mentor's voice on the phone, Peter smirked and shot back, “Says the old man that can’t find the wrench that’s still in his hands.”

“That was one time!” Tony’s voice said defensively before changing the subject, “So you haven’t left with Happy yet, I take it?”

“Just getting out to his car.” Peter said, walking into his dorm’s elevator.

“Uh-huh. While, you’re on your way up, try and think through what might be similar to each incident. We’ll use that while going through the info your suit gathered during patrol.”

“Speaking of—Tony, I need to be back by tonight to go patrolling again. I need to be there for the next person that gets affected by this thing.”

“Yeah, no can do, Underoos.” Tony said. It was said with a casual finality, even off-handed in a way, and it irked Peter for some reason.

“What do you mean?” He said slightly annoyed as he left the elevator.

When he neared the door leading outside, he realized he was still not wearing his other shoe having been so distracted by Tony. He put his granola bar in his mouth, and began moving in a way he knew was not even remotely graceful as he tried to keep forward momentum and put his shoe on at the same time.

“There’s too much heat around the situation now, Pete. You need to stay away for awhile.” Tony broke through Peter’s concentration of staying upright as he barreled through the door to the outside.

Once he managed to get the shoe on, Peter paused for a second to take a bite out of his granola bar before moving again. He answered his mentor with a hard tone, “I can’t just drop this, Tony!”

“The media has gotten involved. That automatically makes this trickier. It’s important to tread carefully now.”

“I know I need to be careful,” Peter groaned out, “But I feel really close to a breakthrough! I just need a few more nights of recon. Please—”

“You have any leads?” Tony cut him off before he could keep talking.

Peter faltered before replying. He really didn’t have any leads, and it was clear Tony knew that. He had just hoped that train of thought would work on Tony, and he would be allowed to patrol. “I mean—no, not really.” Peter said quietly, opting for honesty in this moment.

He heard Tony sigh, “We need to be smart. This isn’t a recon-then-action type of mission anymore.”

Peter had made it to the sleek black car that would take him to the compound. Pausing in front of the passenger side, one hand on the door’s handle, Peter started talking, “I know, Tony, but these people—”

Tony cut him off again, “The answer is still no. We’ll talk more when you get here.”

The annoyance that had been simmering under Peter’s skin throughout the whole conversation, sparked at that moment. “Fine,” He snapped, and hit the phone’s red ‘End’ button. Opening the car door with a particular amount of aggression, he slid into the seat with a huff.

Happy immediately began pulling away from the curb as soon as the door shut. A sour silence fell over the two figures, with Peter staying silent and glaring out his window. The other, usually more grumpy, older man glanced at Peter frequently as they made their way upstate. Peter felt the stare each time, knowing the older man was trying to get a read on him as he quietly brooded.

Over the many years they had been in each other’s lives both had gotten relatively good at reading each other. In this particular situation, it was obvious Peter was frustrated about something, but he knew Happy was trying to piece together what might be annoying him.

“Tony did something again, didn’t he?” Happy’s voice finally broke the silence.

“You could say that,” Peter muttered.

“Whatever he did, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Peter had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, Happy didn’t deserve that. “Happy, no offense, but I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ok, fair enough.” Happy conceded easily. The rest of the drive was silent, only the soft sounds of music were heard.

When the car rounded the tree lined bend that led up to the compound, Peter’s emotions did a bit of a dance. He always loved seeing this building. It was a symbol of something so much bigger than himself, even bigger than him as Spiderman. Excitement always sparked in his gut as he thought about what and who it held inside and all the inner workings that even he didn’t fully understand yet. The weight of its purpose was inspiring while also being rightfully intimidating. Peter had yet to shake the feelings of being inadequate when thinking about it all. No matter how much he had wanted it, he couldn’t stop wondering if he was good enough to be an Avenger, of being a part of the moving pieces that title gave him power in, and what it meant to protect the world. He was just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman after all.

Today, though, that wash of emotions was dampened by his frustration over why he was here to begin with. He felt like Tony was calling him here to keep an eye on him. Like he didn’t trust him, and it stung.

After the car pulled up to the giant glass doors of the side entrance, Peter said a hasty goodbye to Happy, got out and slammed the door shut a bit harder than necessary. He bounded up to the door, and stepped into the building.

Almost immediately, Friday, Tony’s AI, greeted him with an even tone “Hello, Peter. Should I let Boss know you are here?”

“Tell him I’ll be down in a sec.” Peter answered, but instead of going directly to the lab, he made his way to the large communal kitchen to make himself a sandwich.

Friday’s voice came through the silence of the kitched “Boss is asking for you to come down to the lab.” The AI paused then added, “He says to just bring the food with you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, Tony knew him a little too well sometimes. Taking a massive bite his sandwich, he grabbed his plate and started his way down to the lab.

When he turned into the large state of the art lab, he was greeted with a view of Tony’s back.

Since Thanos, Tony had changed from what he had looked like during his active days as Iron Man. It wasn’t for the worse, he had simply changed, gotten older. His hair had gotten distinctly more salt and peppered, even more than when Peter had been remade after the snap. The wrinkles around his eyes had gotten more prominent, and they highlighted the smile he’d started wearing more often now that he was a father and genius mechanic rather than a superhero holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He also had a prosthetic arm, a constant reminder of the day he saved the galaxy. When you could see it, it was a surprisingly tame color—a dark charcoal grey. “You can wear it with anything,” Tony had joked when asked why it wasn’t bright red. It still held Iron Man’s trademark colors of red and gold in its details, with a bright blue light filling out the crevices or other details that the nanotechnology didn’t cover. The scars from the wound that traced their way across his skin came up his neck and stretched up around his ear and cheek. Anything else around his shoulders and chest was usually covered by a shirt, unless he was in his tank top fixing his cars, or swimming at his house in the woods.

The biggest difference for Peter though, was the softness that had taken over Tony. He was certainly still the cocky, confident man he’d always been, but he didn’t hold himself that way anymore as a suit of armor. Now that confidence was worn as a person slowly working on their monsters and ever so subtly finding hope in who they actually are. It was a softness that came with years of therapy and walking through it all with good friends and family. Peter was proud of Tony for that, and was grateful he got to be a part of it.

Currently, Tony was in a basic long sleeve black shirt pulled back to his elbows and his usual chop-shop jeans that were filled with grease and other stains.

With his back to the door, he was surrounded by three different holographic projections. One was the schematics and details of Peter’s Spiderman suit. Another was a news feed scrolling and continuously playing any news that might be relevant to his search, and the last one had numbers, graphs, and other data that Peter quickly realized was the data from his suit.

The suit, while being his, and even his own design, was still hooked up to the main Stark “cloud” that Tony had created for everything that held Stark technology. That meant Tony could bring up anything he wanted from Peter’s suit.

At any other time, this would have annoyed Peter, maybe even offended him. The two of them had talked at length about the Baby Monitor protocol, and over the last 4 years had slowly lessened it all so that Peter could be his own person, having complete control over the responsibility he had as a superhero. Tony had promised to no longer check the data or videos on his suit unless Peter let him, or asked him to. For this particular moment, even in Peter’s already frustrated state, he knew there had been an unspoken agreement that Tony would help. That meant he would look into these details. So Peter let it slide, and while taking another enormous bite of his sandwich, he walked up to Tony’s side and asked with a mouthful, “Found anything interesting?”

Tony turned his face towards him with both eyebrows raised quietly asking the parental question of ‘really? while eating?’ to which Peter gave a noncommittal shrug to say ‘yup’. Tony lips twitched with amusement, and he turned back to the projections, answering, “No, not yet. Was waiting for you actually.”

Swallowing the bite, Peter said, “I think we should get Friday working on whether or not the three victims have anything in common with each other. Then you and I can look through the surveillance Karen saved through my mask’s camera and see if there is anything we can see for clues or leads.”

Tony nodded, then said, “You heard him, Fri. Start seeing if there is anything to connect these people together, and please upload the videos from Peter’s suit so we can start watching them.

“What time frame do you want to focus on for the videos?” She responded.

“Let’s see, everything starting from Wednesday at the beginning of my patrol to the end of the last entry on Friday,” said Peter.

Friday didn’t respond. Instead, a new hologram popped up in front of the two men, and the first scenes of the surveillance videos began to play. They silently began to watch together while Peter finished his food.

Three hours later, the pair were now sitting in chairs, eyes slightly glazed from the amount of random footage they had already gone through. Peter tried not thinking about the fact they were still only on Wednesday night. They had fast forwarded through most of the early evening of that night, until right around when Peter remembered it all started.

When he heard Karen respond to something he said by saying, “You said never to call a night ‘calm’ because it tempts the universe,” he perked up in his chair and spoke out loud, “This is where my senses started going off before I heard the whimpering.”

The suit’s camera showed the vantage point on top of a building looking down at the still busy street below. “Pause the video,” Peter said. Getting up from his chair, he raised his hands to the image. With an outward wave from both hands he expanded the image to be twice the size it was before, essentially engulfing himself and Tony in the scene.

“My senses went off, but I couldn’t see where it was coming from. It was too hard to tell with so many people staring simply because I had swung overhead, but I know someone was staring for another reason.”

Tony looked at him questioningly, “You know when someone is staring at you for another reason?”

Peter nodded and shrugged, “Yeah, there’s a difference in someone staring innocently, and someone that is staring for another reason. I don’t know why, but I can feel the difference.”

Tony nodded slowly, and his face briefly flashed a ‘huh, neat’ face before he turned back to the image. “Friday, start scanning the faces and see if there are any that stand out. Let’s start with criminal records or anyone that Spiderman has dealt with directly.”

“Certainly.” Friday responded.

In the meantime, both men were staring at the screen seeing if, on intuition and instinct alone, they could pick anything up. After about 2 minutes, Friday spoke, “There are three different faces detected that have misdemeanor records, none of which are connected to Spiderman for their arrest nor their crime.”

The 3 faces showed up with their records next to them, and it was clear right away that none of them were who they were looking for. One had a public indecency charge, another was a DUI, and the last had the only genuine criminal record for assault, but it was from over 20 years ago.

Peter sighed at the news feeling disappointed, while Tony leaned in. “Friday, run the video and see if anyone stays focused on Peter when we know the whimpering started.”

The time between where the clip started and when the whimpering began was only a few seconds and it was impossible to truly focus on the faces with the way the camera whipped in the direction of the whimpering when Peter had heard it. The audio itself didn’t pick up on the whimper—it being too faint for the microphone—but it was clear enough when Peter had heard it. When nothing could be seen, Tony called for the frames to be slowed down to a shuttering frame by frame pace.

In the blinking frames that could be seen right before Peter’s head moved, only a few people had remained focused on the superhero. An old man who had been tending to his store front, a child staying planted in awe until his parent tugged him along, and a tall slim man with black hair, suit, and...a silver tie.

“Wait!” Peter blurted, “That guy, right there. I recognize him! I saw him last night.”

“Him?” Tony pointed at the blown up image of the man.

“Yeah, he was coming out of the alleyway right before I went to help the last victim.”

“Friday, you know what that means.” Tony said to his AI.

The silence lasted for only a moment before Friday was speaking to the room, “His name is Everett Mercury, age 25, born and raised in New York City.”

“Ok, can you tell us anything else about him?”

“Actually, boss, his file and any subsequent information that is regularly available or traceable for the average person is coming up blank. This lack of data would normally suggest all information for Mr. Mercury was wiped clean or is purposefully untraceable in most technological databases.”

“Well, I think that means we found our guy, what do you think, Pete?” Tony said, snapping his fingers together and spinning on his heels to look directly at Peter.

Peter gave a small absentminded nod as he only kind of heard Tony’s question. He was still glaring at the face in front of him, thinking. “Is he anywhere near the second location?”

Again, the silence filled the room until the AI spoke, “Based on my recognition software, there is no record of him being at the location of the second victim.”

Peter groaned,”Dang it!” all though he used entirely more colorful language in his head.

“That doesn’t mean that wanna-be-young-Keanu-Reeves here isn’t our guy.” Tony said lightly.

“No, but it doesn’t confirm it either. Plus, we don’t know anything about him,” Peter shot back.

“They don’t usually make it that easy for us.”

Peter knew Tony wasn’t trying to goad him. He wasn’t even trying to be condescending, but after the week he’d had, the fear of the unknown and the frustration that was just sitting at the bottom of his stomach mixed and boiled quickly. “No they don’t. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t hoping our first lead might have been a little less vague. What are we supposed to do with this information, Tony?” Peter said heatedly, whirling to face his mentor with a glare.

Tony met his stare with raised eyebrows and a slight cock of the head. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?” He looked into Peter’s eyes for a second, “Are you mad at me?”

“How does this help people, Tony? How does me sitting here with you, finding out this guy's name, in upstate New York, help anyone?” Peter said, not answering the question.

“Pete, this is only just the beginning. We’ve only been here—what? 3 hours?” Tony said, checking his watch.

“Yeah, and by the time I get back someone might already be infected by whatever-the-hell this is and could even be dead!”

Understanding washed over Tony’s features at Peter’s words. “You’re upset I said you couldn’t go patrolling.” It wasn’t a question. He had said it as its own confirmation.

“Have you watched any of these videos, Tony?” Peter said with quiet intensity pointing back at the projected image, “New York needs someone out there protecting them, and right now, no one is.”

Tony remained silent as he looked intently at Peter for a moment, his lips pushed up in thought. When he finally looked away, he gave a heavy sigh, and his hands came up in a loose shrug before he said, “Ok. You want to go out and patrol. Then I won’t stop you.”

“What?” Peter said slightly shocked, “You’re gonna let me go?” He was not expecting that reaction. He thought he would need to put up a fight, argue a bit more. Even then, he didn’t think Tony was going to allow him to go.

“Yeah. You want to patrol. I won’t stop you.” Tony said lightly.

Peter looked at Tony for a second, hesitating. His brows furrowed as he searched the man’s face. Something about Tony’s reaction bothered him, but he couldn’t think why. Why was that so easy? The thought was momentary, a sparked instinct to push for more information, but as soon as it came, it was swallowed up by the new thoughts of getting back to the city. If he could patrol, maybe he could do better reconnaissance, maybe even find the black haired man himself and question him.

“Uh, right.” Peter breathed out, “Then I’m gonna go.” He turned and started to leave the lab. Right when he got to the door, he looked back and saw Tony had already turned his back on him and was looking at each screen he had pulled up. He had started playing the frame-by-frame video again. His arms were crossed, and it was clear he was thinking and assessing everything he saw. Again, something in the back of Peter’s head told him he should stay, but he pushed it back stubbornly.

A couple hours later found Peter atop the lone skyscraper on campus. It was a massive clock tower that used to ring every hour with a real bell, but it had since been turned electronic, telling the time silently as it watched the students wander below. On nights when he needed to just think Peter would find himself up here, especially when he couldn’t be bothered making it to his usual favorite perches closer to the center of the city. Tonight, Peter was watching dusk settle over the city, thinking of a game plan for the night’s patrol.

Somehow, the other incidents had happened right where he was, no need to search far and wide. That left Peter with little direction as to where to start, but he still had to get moving. The shadows were growing, and that meant more alleys to hide in and go unnoticed.

Standing up, he shook himself loose, and flicked out his hand. His two middle fingers came to the base of his palm, tapping his web shooter to life. It responded with a string of web flying over to the next building, and just as Peter stepped off the tower, he spoke to his AI, “Karen, I want you to monitor for raised temperatures, and scan every face you can for Everett Mercury. Let’s make tonight worth it.”

“Initiating scanning parameters.” Karen confirmed.

As Peter swung, he felt his senses open up and his nerves coil like springs. The anticipation he held for finding another victim was growing, and he hated how afraid he was. It wasn’t just the fear of these people getting hurt. Frankly, that he could deal with. He’s had to deal with it. It was a responsibility of a superhero to deal with the fear of people getting hurt. No, he was afraid of seeing the side effects of this thing again. The glowing eyes, the pulsing veins, the shrill cry that comes with each victim—it was haunting. He was also afraid of holding another person in his arms as they fought whatever it was they were affected by. He didn’t know how many more people he could watch seize and drop into a comatose state.

He was uneasy, and he felt a little ashamed this thing had dug its claws into him so quickly, but the apprehension he didn’t want was still there all the same. With each flick of his wrist that carried him farther into the city, he tried to think of a way to turn that fear in his favor, but all he came up with was a sour and shaky form of adrenaline.

Much later into the night, Karen’s voice came out clear in Peter’s ear,“My scans show a man that fits the description of Everett Mercury by the ATM’s on the corner.”

Peter swung to the nearest rooftop, and upon crouching and turning around to look out at the four-way intersection he felt his senses buzz lightly. That annoying warning was back, and his skin crawled at the feeling. He spoke quietly to his AI, “Where is he?”

Before Karen could answer, Peter’s eyes found a black haired figure in a sharp suit standing motionless at the corner. When Peter found his eyes, he felt his stomach do a flip. The man was staring straight at him, unflinching and unfazed as their eyes met. His eyes were cold and dark, set within a face of stone. Each second felt stretched in time as Peter looked at him. He stood expectantly, like he had known Spiderman would be there, looking for him. As if to confirm the suspicion, a small smirk began to play itself on Mercury’s lips before he broke eye contact, turned and in a few steps, seemed to vanish into thin air.

“What? What was that?” Peter whispered harshly as he stared wide eyed at nothing, “no no no no!”

In a panic, he shot out a web, and launched himself down to the other side of the intersection. As he landed lightly on his feet where Mercury had been standing, he looked in all directions only to catch a glimpse of the dark suited figure slipping down a darkened road at the end of the street. Peter sprinted in that direction, and when he turned the corner he was met with more empty space.

What the hell?!

Scanning the area, Peter saw that he had run into a large empty courtyard. It was rundown, with pipes coming out haphazardly from the walls, concrete benches spotted the outskirts of the central space where the ground had broken and the cracks were growing grass and weeds. It was lit by a solitary orange street light that shone weakly at the entrance making shadows fall over the far side and its corners turn black.

As Peter squinted in the direction of those shadows, he saw a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Flicking a web in the direction of the movement, he knew he had caught nothing as it hit a pipe with a hard hollow sound.

He jerked his head in the direction of the movement, and felt his body crouch instinctively, muscles tightening, ready to launch into motion.

Another glimpse of movement, and another web that hit nothing.

“I know you're in here!” Peter spoke out into the courtyard. Still crouched with fists clenched, he felt his heart hammering in his chest, and adrenaline coursing through his body.

Peter tried to hone in on his spidey senses hoping to locate the man that way. He felt the familiar buzzing at the back of his head, but the warning felt like it was coming from more than one direction. There was nowhere that didn’t feel threatening, and his mind began to go fuzzy the longer he tried to focus on it. It was like white noise slowly getting louder as the threat started to close in like walls.

In the fog taking over his brain, Peter didn’t notice the air shimmering a few feet in front of him until Everett Mercury had materialized in front of him. The man stood towering over Peter’s crouched figure, a smirk still on his face.

As quickly as he had appeared, his body crouched and shot out a hand which connected with Peter’s sternum and sent him flying into the wall behind him. After the hit landed, he vanished into the darkness again.

A voice, low and smooth came from the dark, “I’m not the one you should be focusing on, Spiderman.”

The impact had knocked the wind from Peter’s lungs, and he slipped to the ground on all fours coughing. He tried to right his breathing quickly as he scrambled up and got into a ready stance again, saying breathily, “Oh, yeah? And your cloak and dagger thing is what, a party trick? Doesn’t exactly convince me you’re a good guy.”

Peter didn’t get an answer. Mercury appeared at his side and shoved him hard enough to make Peter stumble towards the center of the open space. Peter tried to correct his balance and figure out where his opponent might be coming from, but there was nothing but mental static.

“It’s not about me being good or bad. I just follow orders. You on the other hand...What are you doing to save all those helpless people?” The disembodied voice spoke casually. It sounded like it was circling the perimeter of the yard. “You’re wasting time, Spidey.”

Peter knew he was being baited, but that didn’t stop a spark of fear and anger to go through him at the thought of more victims. Fuck, please be bluffing.

“Why are you doing this?” Peter growled, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Why am I doing this?” The voice answered, amusement laced its deep tone, “I’m not doing anything. They seek us out.”

With the white noise still muffling his senses, Peter didn’t notice Mercury come up behind him until he was whispering in his ear, “They ask for it.”

Peter whirled around to see Mercury standing right in front of him. With a knee-jerk reaction, Peter shot out his fist, but he hit nothing as Mercury smoothly ducked out of the way. Peter pivoted to counter the dodge, but the dark haired man’s eyes flashed with an intensity that charged the air. It felt like the split second between when a fuse runs its course and the firework finally erupts. Except, Peter wasn’t ready for the explosion.

Mercury lunged forward, and swung his fists at Peter. First a straight cross, then an upper cut, then another jab. Mercury’s fists were flying, and each hit was made with a trained precision. The ferocity of the attack caught Peter off guard, and each blow was thrown with such brutal speed and power that he felt defenseless against them as they slowly pushed him backwards towards the wall.

Finally, a particularly harsh punch came and hit his face. Peter’s body gave him no choice but to drop to the ground dazed. He felt warm blood flow from his nose, and in the back of his head he guessed his nose might have been broken.

The other man, barely breathing heavy, stalked closer to Peter’s hunched figure, and mumbled something under his breath that Peter didn’t catch over the ringing in his ears. Then he picked Peter up by his shoulders and slammed him into a mess of pipes jutting from the wall behind him. A loud crack sounded, and pain radiated through Peter’s ribs as one of them broke on impact. His head rocked back into a lead pipe, and he felt the edge of yet another pipe’s broken opening cut into his skin because of the sheer force he was being pressed into it. Weakly, he tried and failed to squirm out of the other man’s grasp.

Mercury glared into Peter’s masked face and spoke in a low menacing voice, “You might not believe this, but what’s happening is for the better.” He looked between the two bright white eyes with cold intensity and growled, “Don’t fight this.”

He let go of Peter, who immediately slumped to the ground, and stepped back. Shadow engulfed Mercury’s figure once more, and he was gone.

Peter sat on the ground, clutching his torso, and trying to breath through the pain that was currently coursing through his body. It had been a while since he had been beaten up this badly, or been so taken by surprise. Why wouldn’t my spidey sense work? His pain addled brain couldn’t think of a reason just yet, and his main priority needed to be getting back to the dorms.

“Hey Karen, how far are we from campus?” Peter whispered out.

“You are currently 2 miles away.” The AI responded.

“Great,” He said a little high pitched, “I can do that. No problem.”

Shakily, he stood up and raised his arm to shoot out a web. The broken rib screamed in protest, but gritting his teeth against the pain, Peter shot and pulled himself into the air.

He must have blacked out as he swung back because Peter would not have been able to tell anyone how he managed to make it back to his dorm room that night. All he remembered was waking up on the floor during the very early hours of the day with Ned shaking him awake.

“Pete. Peter! You gotta wake up!” Ned’s voice was full of worry.

He groaned as his friend continued shaking him. He reached up his hand and swatted clumsily at the arm connected to the hand shaking his shoulder.

“Oh, thank god,” Ned sighed, “Dude, you’re a fucking mess. What the hell did you do tonight?”

Peter couldn’t form coherent thoughts just yet with the pain and disorientation his injuries were causing him, and just mumbled, “Patrol.”

“Yeah, figured that much out myself. I meant what happened to you?”

“Everett Mercury.” Peter said briefly, still trying to stop the spinning in his head.

“Whose that?” Ned asked curiously.

Just then, Peter’s phone began ringing and buzzing on his desk. Ned reached over Peter’s head and handed it to him. The screen’s brightness bit into Peter’s eyes and he flinched while making out the series of texts coming in from Tony.

Tony: We need to talk.

Tony: Mercury is enhanced and highly dangerous.

Tony: Do not engage with him. We need to make a plan

Too late, Tony... Peter thought as he felt each injury pulse in time with his heart.

There’s chapter 2! Please let me know any feedback you might have! I’d love to know if there are things you are hoping to see, or if you have any thoughts about the story in general. All reblogs are so incredibly appreciated! 💙❤️

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be added)

@cocoamoonmalfoy @empath-bunny @storybookholland @kassey @touchmethomas @greenorangevioletgrass @emilyparkerholland

#more than we hoped #more than we hoped chapter 2 #more than we hoped series #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #college!peter #college!peter parker #college! au #college au #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #marvel #mcu #reader insert #angst

30 notes · View notes

gwentoryfics · 4 years

Text

Hot for Teacher, Part 10.

GENRE | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

PAIRING | Reader x Hongseok x Hyunggu (Kino) x Wooseok

WORDS | 11.3k

SUMMARY | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

WARNINGS | Swearing. Phone sex. Video sex. Masturbation (male and female). Pillow humping.

PARTS | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • More Coming Soon

NOTE | The smut MAY have gotten a little out of hand this time... NO REGERTS. Also sorry that it took me so long to finally finish & post this. Anxiety, depression, and long work weeks really suck.

TAGS | @astralsweetness, @bearboyunho, @day6grams, @heyheydee7, @hhhongseok, @honeyutoda, @kkxn0, @precious-seungwooya, @seraplantery, @smilechannie, @the-deviant-world, @yeosang-ponytail

“Jinho?”

You’re completely frozen in place as you stare at your brother, as bright eyed as he’s ever been, standing just across the lobby. He stands on his tiptoes to wave as people pass between you both, and then he’s walking towards you.

Jinho, your big brother, is here. He’s right here.

You finally break out of your shock, vision growing blurry with tears as you rush towards him, abandoning your grip on your suitcase as soon as he pulls you into a hug.

“_____, I missed you!” Jinho squeezes you tightly, and you notice his body is much more solid than it used to be.

“Jinho…” You weakly whimper his name as the tears begin to fall, still in utter disbelief that after so long you finally get the chance to see him again. You haven’t heard a word from him since the day he disappeared.

“Come on, _____, don’t cry.” He pats your back but doesn’t make any attempt to let you go.

Even with your arms securely wrapped around him, you still can't comprehend the fact that he's here and he's alive and he's here.

Jinho waits until you finally release him, giving you all the time you need to hold him close. He gives you the warmest smile, and as much as it soothes you, it also makes you suddenly, incredibly angry.

"Where did you go?" You ask, frustration thick in your voice. "Why did you leave? Why haven't I heard anything from you?"

Jinho's smile fades, but he seems understanding of your pain. "Let's talk about it in the car, okay?"

You nod, overwhelmed by all of the emotions flooding you. Jinho grabs the handle of your bag and leads you out into the parking lot. You tightly grasp the sleeve of his coat as you walk together, afraid that he could slip away from you at any moment.

Once you’re finally on the road and headed home, he speaks up. “You know how mom and dad wanted you to be a secretary? Or a housewife? They’ve been telling you basically since you could walk that they already decided what you should do with your life and that their plan was the best plan. Right?”

You hum quietly in agreement. They had always been vocal about what they wanted for you.

“They did that to me, too, I’m sure you remember.”

“Yeah, I lost count of the number of times I heard them telling family and neighbors about how you were going to take over the farm one day.”

“It’s suffocating. It felt like I had no control over my life, like I couldn’t actually do what I wanted to do.”

“What did you want to do?”

Jinho sighs, shifting in his seat as you coast down the street, headed for the country. “I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. I still don’t. All I knew was that I wanted to make my own decision. So I joined the Army.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up a little straighter, surprised. “What?”

Jinho lets out a short laugh at your response. “Yeah, it just seemed like the right way to go. I didn’t have a plan for university or for a career, so I thought joining the Army would let me get away from home for a while, let me meet some new people.”

“Jinho, how does that make any sense? You left home because you had no freedom, so you joined the Army, where you also have no freedom?”

“I never said it was a good idea, or even the right one. But it’s the choice I made. I got to make that decision,” Jinho responds bitterly. A little softer, he says, “I didn’t have the balls you have to uproot your whole life in pursuit of a passion, to tell mom and dad that you won’t do as they say. So I just had to leave, had to disappear.”

You chew on your lip, processing everything he’s shared with you, but one question remains: “Why did you have to abandon me, too?”

“It felt like the only way. It felt like I needed full separation from my life here, and you were unfortunately part of that. I feel awful about it and I never should have removed myself from your life like that. You’re my little sister,” He looks over at you fondly, but it’s bittersweet. “And I’m your big brother. I’m supposed to be there for you but I was selfish and left you to fend for yourself. I am so, so sorry for that.”

You hate to admit it, but you understand where he’s coming from. It makes sense. You just hate that it made you feel so shitty and like you didn’t mean anything to him. But you’ve always loved your big brother, and honestly you’re so happy to have him back that it’s feeling more and more difficult to continue being upset with him. Still, you put on a pout. “Maybe if you buy me some ice cream before we get home, I’ll think about forgiving you.”

“You’ve got it. One large chocolate cone for my favorite baby sister, comin’ right up.” He heartily agrees to it, and you smile.

“How long are you home for?”

“It’s indefinite. I’m done with the Army.”

“Really? What are you going to do now?”

Jinho laughs. “No idea. But that’s kind of freeing. Like I can just decide to do anything now.”

“That’s true,” you laugh with him. “And no matter what you end up choosing, I’m proud of you for figuring it out your own way.”

With a fond smile, he says, “Thanks, _____. And I’m proud of you for following your heart and doing what you love, despite whatever bullshit mom and dad try to shove down our throats.”

Oh, if only he knew just how much you’ve been following your heart… But you’re not ready to tell him all of that right now, if at all. The two of you used to be really close growing up, but him leaving obviously drove a pretty big wedge between you. It doesn’t feel right to tell him exactly what you’ve been up to at school.

Besides, it feels really nice to just let yourself get away from the drama, to just relax in the car with your brother on your way home, with the promise of ice cream in the very near future. You want to enjoy this just a little while longer before you’re forced back into contemplating your predicament.

All of the boys in your life can wait. The only one that matters right now is Jinho.

When you finally pull into the driveway, it feels like a weight lifts up off of your shoulders. It’s so good to be home; you love the excitement of the city, but there’s something so peaceful about the small farm town where you grew up.

Your parents are both thrilled to have you home, of course, and the four of you stay up a little too late just to enjoy being a full family again. Regardless of the circumstances of Jinho’s disappearance, it doesn’t seem like your parents are holding any grudges. You’re really thankful for that.

The next day, the Thanksgiving festivities kick off with a trip to your grandparents’ house where your dad’s large family crowds around the tables in the living room, dining room, and kitchen. The food is incredible, the relatives are loud, and everything just feels right… Although you can’t help but be excited about moving on to the next house for dinner.

After a few hours of eating and visiting with your relatives, your family piles back into the car and heads to your mom’s brother’s place--more specifically, Minseo’s childhood home.

As expected, Minseo tackles you as soon as you walk in the door, smothering you with a hug and squealing about how much she missed you.

You squeeze her as tight as you can, twirling in circles with her in your arms. “I missed you too! We have so much to catch up on!”

“Oh my God, you have no idea.” Minseo puts her mouth right up against your ear and whispers, “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

“What?” You practically squeak, partially from the surprise of her announcement and partially from the tickle of her breath. You release her from the hug and grip her arms. “Who? Since when? What happened?”

“I can’t get into it now because the whole family’s here and honestly my parents are not thrilled that I’ve even been hanging out with this guy. But what do you think about a good old fashioned sleepover at your place tonight?”

“Of course!” You nod excitedly.

“Yay! Okay cool.” She plants a kiss on your cheek and gives you one last hug. “I’m gonna go say hi to Jinho, since I haven’t seen him yet since he’s been back.”

You remember that she was supposed to pick you up from the train station. “When did you find out that he was home? I can’t even begin to tell you how shocked I was to see him at the train station instead of you.”

“Only a few days before you got here. He got my number from your mom and asked if he could pick you up instead. I told him yes, of course, but only if he bought me ice cream to make up for the fact that he was keeping you away from me for an additional day. I still need to cash in on that.”

With a giggle, you admit, “I made him buy me ice cream too, as an apology for disappearing in the first place.”

“What else is he good for if he isn’t supplying us with snacks?” Minseo laughs heartily. “Anyway, I love you, and I’m excited to chat more tonight.”

“Love you, too.” You give her a smile as she walks off to greet your brother.

More family members arrive, and eventually you all get settled for dinner. The food is delicious, as it always is, and you mingle with some of your aunts after the meal.

As you scan your eyes across the living room, you catch Jiyoo's gaze for what must be the fifth time already. Honestly, you're starting to wonder why she hasn't just come over to say hello yet. You excuse yourself from the conversation your aunts are having, which you weren't really a part of anyway, and slip through the room to finally greet your cousin.

"Hey, Jiyoo!" You walk right up and give her a hug. "How's the married life?"

She lightly hugs you back, but she seems a little stiff. "Oh, you know, it's going well. Hey, um, can I talk to you for a sec?"

You let go, immediately sensing that something must be wrong by the way she just dismisses . "Yeah, of course. What is it?"

"Maybe let's…" She nods her head towards the back door. "Maybe some fresh air?"

"Sure, okay." You agree, deciding to just follow her lead on this one.

The cold night air instantly hits you as soon as you step foot outside, but it's actually kind of refreshing. The house was getting a little stuffy because of all of your relatives, anyway.

Jiyoo takes a seat in one of the lawn chairs sitting out there and gestures for you to sit in the one next to her. You oblige. "Is everything okay?"

She finally confronts you, asking, “Did you really sleep with Hongseok?”

Panic strikes deep into the core of your bones. How could she know? “Sorry, what?”

“He told Hwitaek and I overheard and I just… I thought we should talk about it.”

“He? He told… Hwitaek?” You’re absolutely flabbergasted. Why would he do that? Was he just bothered by the way you ran out and needed to talk to a friend? That wouldn’t be entirely unfair of him, but you had both agreed to keep it a secret originally and you assumed that still rang true for your most recent tryst.

“Hey, it’s okay, just… just be honest. If he’s just talking shit about you, you can let me know and I’ll set the record straight.” Jiyoo searches your face for a sign of the truth, concern lining her delicate features.

You try to swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat. This is certainly not something you wanted to tackle tonight, but you suppose you don’t have much choice if she already knows about it. “...And if he’s telling the truth?”

Jiyoo’s lips press into a thin line. “Then I guess I just need to accept that my baby cousin isn’t that much of a baby anymore.”

With a frown, you apologize. “I’m really sorry… I know it was a bad idea but I just…”

“You couldn’t help it. I get it.” Jiyoo lets out a deep sigh. “Honestly, that’s how I was when I met Hwitaek.”

You look to her expectantly. “I’ve never actually heard the story.”

Jiyoo hums and crosses her legs, settling back into her chair. “We were both bio chem majors, so I saw him around quite a lot. He has sort of a distinct face, one that’s really memorable. And he used to always wear these big headphones everywhere he went. I always wondered what he would listen to.” She smiles as she fondly reminisces. “I used to work at the computer lab in the science building part-time, and one day he passed by. And just as I turned around in my chair to tell my coworker about the cute Headphones Guy, he walked right up to the desk.”

You smile, enraptured by her storytelling. “Did he ask you out?”

“Don’t rush the story!” Jiyoo chides. “No, that’s actually not why he came back. He asked me if I knew what time the building closed, and I said I wasn’t sure. And then he gave me this weird look and laughed, saying, ‘What do you mean? You work here. How do you not know what time the building closes?’ I felt like an idiot, but I just told him that I knew when the lab closed, but that I didn’t know if the building closed at the same time. I didn’t think it was that crazy, but he did, apparently.”

“Wow, that’s very romantic,” you sarcastically comment with a chuckle.

“Yeah, it might not have been a great start, but the thing is, he stayed right there at my desk and talked to me for an hour and a half until my shift was over. And then he walked me to my dorm building. And then he came upstairs, and I’m sure you can guess where this is headed.” She smiles at you deviously.

With a laugh, you respond, “Really? You gave it up that quickly? I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“_____, you’ve seen him. I took one look at him and I was enamored. Add his dorky personality on top of that and I was practically telling him I loved him that night.” Even in the darkness of the backyard, you’re positive that she’s blushing. “And now look at us. He’s the love of my life and I wouldn’t give him up for the world. So all of this to say, I absolutely understand how there are certain people that you just can’t resist.”

You just nod. “It’s definitely difficult.”

“So how have you been handling the semester?”

“I mean, I tried to keep things between us as normal as possible but obviously that didn’t really work out, as you’re apparently aware,” you laugh. But when you look over at her, she just looks at you quizzically.

“What do you mean?”

And that’s when it dawns on you that this whole time she’s just been talking about your original hookup with Hongseok. She doesn’t know about the one that happened literally two nights ago. “Oh! Oh… oh no.”

You can’t cover for yourself in time. Jiyoo’s eyes grow wide and her mouth hangs open as she realizes exactly where the misunderstanding came from. “Did you sleep with him again?”

“I thought that’s what you were talking about!”

“_____!” Even though Jiyoo is shocked, she keeps her volume low, well aware that the entire rest of your family is packed inside. “He’s your professor!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Frustration blossoms in your chest. “And what about everything you just said? I thought you understood!”

“This is different! It’s one thing to be swept off your feet by a handsome stranger, and it’s entirely another to screw your professor!”

��Are you seriously mad about this right now?”

Jiyoo just shakes her head in disbelief. “_____… What have you done?” She falls silent, and somehow that is the worst thing that you could have received from her. She takes a deep breath and then instructs you to stay put as she disappears inside. When she returns a few moments later, Hwitaek and Minseo are in tow.

She literally brought in recruits. You immediately throw up your walls, feeling the need to defend yourself. “What’s this all about?”

Jiyoo looks at you like the concerned mother hen that she’s always been whenever you’re involved. “I think we all need to talk about how you’re handling yourself.”

Minseo’s brow furrows with confusion as she looks to Jiyoo. “What happened?”

“She slept with Hongseok again.”

Both Hwitaek and Minseo are visibly shocked by the news, but more importantly, you’re shocked by the gall that Jiyoo has to spread your personal life around like that.

Minseo’s expression melts to something that looks kind of like sadness. Before she can say anything to you, though, you shoot daggers at Jiyoo. “Why don’t we all just quit being such a gossipy family and instead just mind our own business?”

“_____-” Jiyoo tries to reach out to you, but you turn and storm off, heading towards the barn just to get a second away from everyone so that you can breathe.

You slip inside the large barn, slowing your pace as you walk past the tractors and other equipment stored there. You head directly to the back of the barn and plop down onto the floor.

There’s something weirdly comforting about being in the barn. It reminds you of growing up, back when things were a little more simple. Your life working on the family farm hadn’t been particularly easy--it’s very challenging work--but at least back then you didn’t make such shitty decisions for how to live your life.

You barely get more than a minute of solitude before the barn door creaks open, and Hwitaek pops his head in. “_____?” He looks around for a second before he spots you. “Can I come in?”

“You’re not here to lecture me, are you?”

“Not going to lecture you. I promise.”

You chew your bottom lip. “Come in.”

Hwitaek closes the door behind him and makes the long walk over to where you’re seated. He joins you on the floor, and sits quietly for longer than you expected. Maybe he just doesn’t really know what to say. It’s not like the two of you have ever spent time together before. You chatted for, like, a second at the wedding, and that’s it.

Eventually he gets some words together. “I’m not going to apologize because it’s not my place to, but I’m sure you know that Jiyoo likes to make everything her business.”

“Not sure if you’ve seen any trends yet, but that’s kind of just how our family is.”

“I’ve noticed.” He chuckles. “Minseo has been spending a lot of time at our place recently and oh my God those two never run out of tea to spill.”

You have to laugh too because you know how true that is. “Yeah, they can be a lot. I’m sure it’s at least partially a small-town mindset. Everyone here is always in everyone else’s business and I’m just kind of over it. That’s half the reason why I wanted to get away and go to university.”

Hwitaek nods. “I can understand that. I’ve never lived in any major cities but it definitely seems like a change of pace compared to here.”

“It is. But I like it.”

Another silence falls between you, and you absentmindedly fiddle with your shoelaces as the cold starts to set in. It’s a bit awkward, but you just stew in it until he speaks up again.

Eventually he says, “Hongseok has talked to me about you. I know it’s not any of my business though so we don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.”

“Jiyoo said he told you about… the wedding.”

“He did. And he told me how hard it has been to be around you. It sounds like he’s really been struggling with everything he’s feeling, and I shouldn’t be surprised that he caved. I even told him not to act on his impulses because clearly that introduces a lot of risk into the situation, and I didn’t think that was a good idea. He’s usually so disciplined…”

“It’s kind of my fault,” you confess. “I have zero self discipline and I just couldn’t keep myself under control.”

“Well regardless of who takes the blame, I do trust Hongseok with my life and I think he’s got a good head on his shoulders. It’s not my job to tell you two what you should or shouldn’t do, so I’m going to take a step back. He certainly doesn’t have any ulterior motives, so I don’t think it’s truly that concerning that you’re student and teacher.” He shoots you a side eye. “As long as you’re not planning to blackmail him or anything.”

You just shake your head. “I’m not like that. What happened between us has absolutely nothing to do with me wanting some sort of personal gain or anything. It’s just… he’s just attractive, that’s all.” You feel your face heat up. It feels weird to say that to Hongseok’s best friend.

“He really is. And he’s charming, too. I get why anyone would fall for him.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Who said I was falling for him?”

“Feel free to tell me you’re not, if that’s the case.” Hwitaek looks over at you, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

You frown. You know you’re definitely attracted to him, and you enjoyed spending time with him at the exhibit, but do you have any feelings? It’s hard to tell because of the way things ended. “I don’t know. I think we just need to talk when I get back. I kind of ran away last time I saw him so there’s a lot that’s unresolved.”

“Just be honest with him when you talk, and that’ll encourage him to open up, too. There’s no point in trying to have a discussion with him if he feels like he has to watch everything he says.”

“Yeah, I think some honesty would probably be good for us.”

“No matter what you two decide about where to go from here, it’s up to you two. Just know that there might be consequences, so be careful. And I’ll do my best to keep Jiyoo out of it.”

“Thanks, Hwitaek.” You give him a small smile. “I appreciate your support.”

“Of course. He’s my best friend and I want him to be happy. It’s risky, but I get it.” Hwitaek stands and holds out a hand to help you up. “Let’s head back now. It’s freezing out here and I’m dying to dig into that pumpkin pie.”

You and Minseo sit silently on the old couch in your basement, munching on gummy candies and popcorn as an old movie plays on the TV. It’s not one that either one of you is particularly enthusiastic about, but it’s just one of the many DVDs tucked into the entertainment center the TV stands on.

She’s been more quiet than usual since she came back to your house with you after the family dinner had ended, and you’re positive that it has to be because of the sudden announcement of your affair with Hongseok. You’ve been dying to bring it up with her, but you had to wait until Jinho finally went to bed so the two of you could be alone.

Now that he’s gone, it’s time for you to talk.

You’re not really sure where to start, so you just ask, “Are you mad at me?”

Minseo sighs. “We always tell each other everything. Why didn’t you tell me about Hongseok? Why did you tell Jiyoo first?”

“I was going to tell you, I swear. I was planning on telling you about it tonight. Jiyoo just accidentally figured it out first because I’m a dumbass and misunderstood what she was talking about.” You lie down across the couch, resting your head in Minseo’s lap. “I’m sorry that you didn’t get to hear about it from me first but I promise I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you. I was just saving it for a better time, kind of like how you didn’t want to talk about your boyfriend when we were at your parents’ house.”

Minseo rakes her fingers through your hair, and you close your eyes, pleased. “I get it. I’m sorry for being grumpy about it.”

“It’s okay. We all get grumpy. Do you want to hear about it now?”

“Duh,” she laughs. “I want every single detail. Spill.”

So you tell her everything. How he gave you the private tour of his exhibit, how you essentially invited yourself over to his apartment, how he made it pretty clear that he didn’t really want you to leave until he had his way with you. How you ran like the wind out of his apartment the next morning. And you even tell her about your trysts with Wooseok, and the fact that you’re supposed to be mulling over whether you want to date Kino when you get back to the city. And as you expect, she’s incredibly invested and interested in every single morsel of information you share with her.

“You’re really out there living your best life, huh?” She comments when you finally finish your stories. “What an exciting mess you’ve created.”

“It’s great, right?” By this point you’re seated upright again, and you lean heavily against the back of the couch, letting your head fall back against it. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about any of it.”

Minseo shrugs. “Just do what you’ve always done: follow your heart.”

“It’s so much more complicated than that, though.” You respond with a frown. “I can’t just do whatever I want anymore.”

“Well but you can. To an extent, at least. It’s your life, after all. And it’s up to you to make sure that you’re living in a way that makes you happy. It sounds like you enjoy spending time with all of the guys you’ve been around, but now you’re too stressed by the circumstances to keep enjoying it. Obviously hooking up with multiple guys and ignoring romantic feelings isn’t the answer anymore.”

“And my heart will tell me what to do now?”

“It’s a starting point. Take me and Hyojong, for instance. My parents don’t like him, but I do. He’s what makes me happy. So screw what other people think. Don’t worry about our family. Don’t worry about your friends back at school. This is totally your choice, and you get to decide what you want to do. If you’re just living your life based off of what other people want or expect from you, then you’re bound to have regrets.”

You have to admit that she’s right. You only get one life, and you’re the only one that gets to run it. So you can’t let yourself worry about what other people will think if you decide you’re interested in anything romantic with Hongseok, or Kino, or Wooseok… or how the three of them might feel if you choose not to pursue anything romantic with anyone. You have to choose for you.

“I have to choose for me.” You nod. “This is my life and who cares what other people think?”

“Exactly! That’s the spirit.” Minseo smiles broadly. “You’ll figure it out. And whatever is right is what will happen.”

You return her smile, and refocus the conversation on Minseo. “So Hyojong? That’s your boy?”

Giddy, she nods excitedly. “Yeah. We’ve only been together for a few weeks, but _____, he is absolutely wonderful.” She pulls out her cell phone and shows you a photo of the two of them picking apples. You immediately recognize his heavy-lidded gaze and long hair.

“Really? The bartender from the wedding? Girl!” You nudge her playfully. “I knew you thought he was cute but I didn’t know that you were, like, into him into him.”

“I didn’t know either! But I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jiyoo and Hwitaek recently and Jiyoo kind of set us up, and he’s so weird and funny and cool. He’s perfect for me.”

A warm smile touches your lips. “I’m so happy for you, Minseo. That’s exactly the kind of love you deserve.”

“Thanks,” she nearly blushes. “Now we’ve just gotta get you on the same train.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I get it figured out.” As your conversation comes to a close, you look back to the TV. “Can we please watch something else? I’m so over this movie.”

“Oh my God, I thought you’d never ask,” Minseo laughs. “Yes, please.”

Late Friday night, you find yourself digging through your closet in search of the sheet music you know you have for “Rhapsody in Blue”. You meant to bring it with you this year but you forgot about it when you made the move back up to your dorm. You’re certain it must be in here, but you keep getting distracted by old photo albums and yearbooks and all of the other nostalgia packed into the shelves of your closet.

One of the items that catches your attention is the keepsake box that your mother put together for you. It started out as a place for you to store all of the cards you got for your birthday or holidays, but you added other random items to the box like the friendship keychain Minseo made for you when you were younger, or the small piece of wood you found that broke off of the dance floor during your school’s prom.

Inevitably, whenever you revisit the keepsake box, you find something in there that you had forgotten about. This time is no different.

When you open the small box, your eyes immediately land on the dried up flowers sitting at the very top: Hongseok’s boutonniere.

You completely forgot that you decided to keep it--your night with him was just a pleasant memory by the time you departed for school. When you had put the flowers in this box, you had no idea just how much of a story would grow.

You pick up the small bundle of withered blooms, running a finger over the dried petals until you realize something that you should have noticed before--now that the flowers have shrunk, you can very easily see the piece of paper that’s tucked in the middle of the bunch.

Gently, you pick out the paper, the dramatic beating of your heart picking up rapidly. Did he leave you a note when he gave you the boutonniere? What secret message could he have snuck to you?

As you unfold the small note, you realize he didn’t leave you a message--he left you his phone number.

Ten digits, his name, and a stupid winky face.

Part of you wants to crumple it up and throw it out the window. Rid yourself of it forever so you can stop thinking about him all the goddamn time.

But another (and unfortunately much stronger) part of you tells yourself that this is special. This means that you were never just a random hookup to him. Well, maybe it was random, but the phone number at least implies that he wanted to see you again.

Hongseok quite literally asked you to reach out. He gave you everything you needed to establish a connection with him.

What would have happened if you had called? Would he have wanted to take you out on a date? Would he have asked you to get all dolled up again, just like you did that night, just so he could ruin you?

And more importantly… what would he do if you call him now?

There’s so much that was left unsaid between you and him after you ran out. You have a million questions. And for some reason, you’re feeling stupidly brave right now. (You blame it on the dumb winky face.)

You jump onto your bed and grab your phone, your hands shaking as you pull up the dialpad. Are you really about to do this?

You punch in his number.

You press the damn green button.

You hold the phone up to your ear, pulse racing at the sound of the ringing.

And then he answers.

“Hello?” His voice alone sends something terribly wonderful shooting through your veins.

“Hi.” You answer simply, not really sure what to say.

Hongseok pauses for a moment, and then he says, “Sorry, who is this?”

Idiot. He doesn’t have your number. “Oh, right, um, it’s me. _____.”

He pauses for a longer moment, and you worry he might hang up on you altogether.

“Um, so I’m home right now for Thanksgiving, and I… I found the flowers. And your number.”

“I’m not sure this is appropriate.”

A bitter frown reaches your lips at his response. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

“Well what do you want me to say, _____? What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know!” You’re starting to feel exasperated, but you remind yourself that your rushed exit could be the cause of his attitude. More calmly, you say, “I’m sorry that I left like that. I just panicked and I had to get out of there. I’ve felt so confused about everything.”

“I suppose I can’t blame you for that.” Hongseok sighs gently. “We sure have made things confusing, haven’t we?”

You nod, and then realize he can’t see the gesture. “Yeah. We really have.”

“Can you give me a minute? Just stay on the line.”

You hum in acknowledgement and the call goes completely silent. Your pulse is through the roof, equal parts excited to be speaking with him over the phone and fatally nervous to be speaking with him over the phone.

After a little while, his voice is back. “Still there?”

“I am.”

“Thank you for not leaving this time.”

You let out a small laugh to accompany your eye roll. “Was that all a test?”

“Not exactly.” Hongseok chuckles in tune with you. “I just needed a second to get myself a drink before having this conversation.”

“Ah. You think it’s going to be that bad?”

“For my career, probably. Or my sanity, at the very least.”

It’s pleasantly surprising to you how quickly he drops his guard this time. “I drive you that crazy, huh?”

“Yeah.” He admits. “Yeah, you do.”

Now it’s your turn to be silent. You hadn’t expected him to so openly admit that.

“I have to ask…” He starts. “I thought maybe you just lost the boutonniere or that my phone number fell out, and that’s why you didn’t call. But you kept both of those things. So… why didn’t you?”

“Hongseok, you folded the paper up so small and you tucked it so far into the flowers that I had no idea it was even in there. I just saved the flowers because… I don’t know, they had a good memory attached. I didn’t even see the paper until now because the flowers finally wilted enough to expose it.”

“Was it really that small?”

“You folded it four times,” you laugh. “Once or twice would have sufficed. And you could have just handed it to me separately. I don’t know why you were so sneaky about it.”

“I thought it would be a cute gesture!” He defends himself. “I was just trying to be romantic.”

“You had the right idea. And hey, I called you eventually.”

“Yeah, just not under the circumstances I expected.”

There’s a thick pause, the silence heavy between you. You know exactly where this conversation should go, but you’re scared to be the one to bring it all up. The longer the silence goes on, though, the more you realize you just need to suck it up and ask the questions you want answers to.

“...How do you feel? About what we did?” You try to keep your voice steady to hide your nervousness. Then you tack on, “I think now would be a good time for us to start being honest with each other.”

He exhales deeply. “I’m not sure that I’ve ever felt more conflicted about something in my life. I’ve spent the last few months preaching to you about morals, and then I brought you into my home, fully aware of the Kryptonite that you are.”

You can’t let him take all of the blame for what happened. You say, “I’m the one that suggested it.”

“Yeah, why did you do that?”

“Because I thought I had something to prove. I swear I wasn’t trying to be sneaky. I genuinely thought that I just needed to one-up your car ride suggestion to show you how okay things were between us.”

“But now here we are.” Another pause, but this one isn’t as long as he willingly confesses to you, “I hate that you left. I absolutely hated it.”

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have run out like that.” You apologize, but there’s more you want to say. “But… I’m not sorry about what we did."

There. You admit it. As much as you felt the need to apologize to Jiyoo about your behavior the other night, it was empty. You don’t regret it. And if you had the chance to sleep with Hongseok again, you'd do it. It might be wrong, but you honestly couldn't care less. Especially now that you're talking to him, hearing his sweet voice and remembering the way he touched you.

Quietly, he responds, "That makes things quite complicated, doesn't it?"

"How do you feel about it?" You press him, feeling like tonight is the night he’ll actually be frank with you about what he’s thinking.

"It was careless of me to let you into my home, and even more careless of me to give in to my desires. I genuinely thought I could handle being around you, but I can't. I can't be around you, _____. You're far too much of a temptation."

"You say you can't. But you want to be," you push. You're getting him to open up one way or another.

And it works.

"Yes, _____, I want to be around you. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Only if it's the truth."

"It is." Frustration is sharp in his voice. "I've been a wreck thinking about you since you left. I've been absolutely torn up trying to figure out what the hell I'm going to do now and wondering how you’ll act in class, if you’ll even show up. And now you just call me out of the blue? Do you know how badly I wanted you to call me this summer?"

You answer with your own question, keeping your voice soft. "I called you as soon as I found your number, didn't I? I swear I would have called you in a heartbeat if I had seen it sooner."

He sighs deeply. "Can you imagine how much harder this semester would have been, though? It was hard enough for us to stay apart this long, and that's after sleeping together only once this summer. We could have potentially built up a lot more… history before the semester started if things had gone differently."

"So you're saying you would have slept with me again if I had called you the next day?" A coy smile comes to your lips and you grip the comforter on your bed.

"If you called me, and that's what you wanted, then of course."

"And the day after that?"

He laughs. "As often as you wanted."

Butterflies stir deep within you. "...and what about now?"

Hongseok is quiet for what feels like a century before he responds. "What is it that you want?"

You bite your lower lip, knowing exactly what you want to say but trying to get up the courage to speak it. Eventually you just force it out. "I want to see you when I'm back from break."

"When do you get back?"

"Sunday afternoon."

"Come over then. I'll be home."

Incredible excitement pulses through you. He's done fighting it. He has given in just as much as you have.

"You'll have to text me your address," you coolly respond.

"I'll do that."

Quiet falls over the line, and you know that there's still something else you need to talk about. "What does all of this mean when it comes to class? It's too late for me to drop and honestly, you haven't done a great job of giving me unbiased grades anyway. You're too good at math for that to have been an accident every time."

"You're right about that, and I apologize again. You, on the other hand, have done a wonderful job keeping me honest."

"Why did you boost my grades, anyway?"

"Because I knew you'd come storming into my office to get it fixed."

"So what, you just wanted to see me?"

"I did."

"You know that was a terrible plan, right?"

"Yes, I'm aware."

"You've really got it bad," you joke. But there's a little bit of weight to it, just a touch of truth.

"And you don't?" He replies, and you feel the same weight in his voice.

You let yourself respond flirtatiously. "How can I not?"

Hongseok lets out a soft chuckle. "We've been screwed since the beginning, I think."

"Agreed," you murmur. "I knew the second I laid eyes on you that I was in trouble."

"It was that easy, huh?"

"It was mostly the tux," you lie. He gets a big ego far too easily.

"Mm. Then what was it the other night? Because I certainly wasn't wearing a tux."

You laugh and shamelessly divulge, "It was the glasses…"

"Really? Those old things?"

"They just looked so… you looked really handsome in them." The blatant compliment is rough on your tongue. It feels weird to so openly tell him that he's attractive.

"Mm," he hums. "I like hearing you say that."

Your already quick heartbeat picks up, but you don't know how to respond. So you just pick up your unfinished train of thought. "Wait, we're getting distracted. How are we going to finish this semester?"

"I swear on my life that I will give you a fair grade. I won't boost it in your favor just to prove my interest, and I also won't lower it if you decide you want nothing to do with me. I understand that I gravely mishandled the first part of this semester, and I just need you to trust that I'll do better this time."

You frown a little. "I want to trust you on that. It at least makes me feel a little better that you were always willing to fix my grade when I told you there was an issue."

"And if you have any further complaints about your grade, we can discuss it. That is always the truth."

"Okay. That makes me feel better." You breathe a little easier.

"And of course, it goes without saying that this should remain between just the two of us."

You sigh heavily. "Then I'm just gonna come clean right now and let you know that Jiyoo and Hwitaek already know."

"You told them?" Hongseok sounds rigid as ever, and you hope you didn’t just ruin his pleasant attitude by telling him that.

"It was an accident! Jiyoo came up to me spouting about how she knows about everything because you blabbed before, and I thought she meant everything everything, so I accidentally said more than I should have. In my defense, I'm obviously not the first one to talk to them about it so I'd appreciate it if you weren't too harsh about this."

He takes a deep breath, and you hear the clink of ice in his glass as he takes a drink. "They really are nosey--well, Jiyoo, mostly. Hwitaek just gets sucked in."

"She's always been that way," you confide.

Hongseok actually chuckles. "That doesn't surprise me."

"It's still kind of weird to me that you know them so well. And then you ended up being my professor? What are the odds?"

"Mmm… I’d say about one in twenty-seven million, nine-hundred-sixty-seven thousand, six-hundred-thirty-two or so."

You laugh in disbelief. "Don’t tell me that you legitimately just did that math in your head.”

“I mean, I can only take partial credit for that because no, I didn’t do the exact math for our situation. I don’t even know how to start calculating that. But I do know that the average probability of winning a six-number lottery is thirteen million, nine-hundred-eighty-three thousand, eight-hundred-sixteen, and I figure our situation is probably even more rare than that, so I just doubled it. That figure is probably still too low, though.”

“Oh my God,” you just shake your head, laughing. “You’re absurd. You just know the exact probability of winning the lottery? And you just did all of that multiplication in your head? Who does that?”

“I do, _____. I’m a mathematical genius.” Hongseok sounds so serious that you can’t help but laugh a little harder, and he laughs right along with you. "It really is unreal, though. I had no idea that I would cross paths with you at the university,” he continues. “Do you feel okay with all of this?"

"Yeah, I do.” You start to regain your composure. “I feel much better now that we're talking."

"Good. I want you to feel okay, especially if we both want to… move forward with any kind of relations."

You have to roll your eyes at his choice of words. "'Relations'? That's what you went with?"

"Ah, yes. 'Rendezvous' would have been better."

"Oh my God, you're an idiot," you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles quietly. "What should I say, then? What do you think is more appropriate?"

"Maybe hook-up?" You offer. "Or… bang sesh? Fuck fest?"

That elicits deeper laughter from him. "All good options, I suppose."

"Or if you wanted something a little softer… maybe… a date?"

"I like that suggestion." His voice is warm when he responds, and then more quietly he says, "I was afraid that I ruined everything because of the way you ran out. I thought I went too far and made you regret the whole thing."

Butterflies stir deep in your belly. "You didn't ruin a thing. But I was definitely surprised when you kissed me. And… you said you couldn't stop thinking about me. I had no idea."

"I've spent more time thinking about you than I'd care to admit, if I'm being honest."

You let yourself smile broadly when he says that. It's not like he can see you grinning like a fool, anyway. "What would you think about?" You prod.

"Most of the time, it's your eyes."

"Really?"

"They're so intense, and so honest. It’s unbelievably easy to feel connected to you because of that, even when you’re mad or upset." He softly muses. "And when I'm not thinking about your eyes, I'm thinking about the way you danced with me at the wedding reception. Or the incredible music you make when you sit down at the piano. Your passion is truly amazing."

You appreciate the compliment, but that's not really the type of conversation you're trying to have right now. "And what about when you're alone? What do you think about when you think of me then?"

"Are you looking for something a little more R-rated? Is that what you want?" He teases you.

You sink a little lower into your bed, humming quietly in agreement.

"Those are the times when I think about the curve of your body, your clothes on the floor, you pinned under me." He confidently responds.

"Mm… Are you alone now?"

"I am." He responds darkly. "So yes, those are the thoughts currently going through my head."

A delicious flame of pleasure licks at the space between your thighs, and you drag your fingers subconsciously across your throat. "I have very similar thoughts… like thinking about your face buried between my legs." You don't allow yourself to be embarrassed by the bold statement--you're too turned on to think critically, anyway.

“Just you wait until Sunday, _____.” The mellow timbre of his voice has taken on some edge. “I have to warn you, though. I can’t guarantee that I’ll let you leave once you get here.”

“I want you to wreck me, Hongseok. Just absolutely demolish me when I get there.” Your voice becomes increasingly breathy as your hand slides up under your shirt, pushing your bra out of the way and toying with your nipples. Christ, what you wouldn’t do to replace your hand with his right now.

“If you’re going to keep talking like that, I think that can certainly be arranged.”

Pinching your nipple, you let out a soft gasp. All rational thought is very quickly going out the window as your need for release quickly takes over.

“_____, are you touching yourself?”

You know your noises aren’t quiet enough to prevent getting caught, but you’re also not at all guilty about being caught. You let your voice be sultry. “What if I am?”

“Then I just might have to join you,” Hongseok responds, fucking cool as a cucumber like always.

Your stomach twists into a delicious knot--you’d love nothing more than to masturbate with him over the phone. But before you get too carried away, there are a few things you want to take care of first. You abandon your chest, fumbling for the headphones that lie tangled up on your nightstand, knowing that you’re going to want both of your hands free for this. You also stuff a blanket along the bottom of your bedroom door to block the light coming from your room and help muffle any sound--your family should all be asleep by now, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.

“You always get me thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking.” His voice comes through your headphones loud and clear, and your phone buzzes in your hand with the receipt of a text message. “Check your phone.”

You quickly realize the message is from him, and as soon as you open the message, you swallow hard. Hongseok sent you a picture of himself lounging in bed, in nothing but low-slung sweatpants. At the top of the frame you can just barely make out his teeth biting into his plush lower lip, and his muscular abdomen takes up the majority of the screen. But perhaps the most important and eye-catching piece of the whole photo is the unmistakable outline of his hard cock through the fabric of his sweats, emphasized by his hand holding the base and pulling his pants tight against his erection. You have no doubt that he must have taken photos like this a thousand times before because no one is that good at taking sexy shots without some practice.

“F-fuck,” you mumble, completely caught off-guard by the photo. Every thought you have is some combination of you wanting to kiss or lick or bite or suck every inch of him, and you try your hardest to form a coherent sentence. “Oh my God, you’re such a tease.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No it’s fucking amazing but Christ, what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Well if you’re open to suggestions, you could maybe send something back.”

You pause for just a second, contemplating, and then respond. “Okay, hold on.”

You know that getting a good photo could easily take you twenty minutes, so you reserve yourself to the fact that you’re just going to have to settle for whatever you can get in the next sixty seconds. You quickly shimmy out of your sweatpants so you’re just in your blue cotton underwear and a graphic tee. You pull up the hem of the shirt to expose a little of your tummy, and then try to snap a picture similar to his. It’s not quite enough, though, so at the last second you decide to slip your fingers into your panties, pulling the band down with your thumb to show off some extra skin.

There. That’s the shot.

“Okay, I’m sending it,” you tell him quietly, your hand oddly shaky as you press Send.

He hums softly in acknowledgement, and you hear him suck in a breath as soon as he opens the picture. “Fucking hell,” Hongseok groans. “You are so hot it is unbelievable.”

A devilish grin creeps onto your lips. You love that he’s just as floored by you as you are by him. “What are you gonna do about it?”

"For starters, I'll put that rotten mouth of yours to good use. And then--what was it? I'll wreck you. Ruin you. Demolish you. I'll pin you to the wall, the bed, the floor, and I'll stuff you with my cock until you can't think straight."

Jesus Christ this man knows just what to say. You haphazardly push your panties down, kicking them off onto the floor as your fingers graze over your slick pussy. "Too bad we have to wait a whole two days for that."

"I guess I'll just have to fill the time thinking of you and stroking my cock."

His words send a delicious shiver down your spine. "Maybe you'd like to think of how wet I am right now, how easily--aahh--how easily my fingers slip right inside." You glide one finger into your pussy, delighted by the way your nerves completely light up at the sensation. Your other hand returns to your chest, making sure your whole body is tended to.

"Fuck," he chuckles playfully. "You've got me so hard, _____."

"Ugh I just wanna ride you forever." You hear him moan quietly over the line. "Are you touching yourself, too?"

"Of course I am. How can I not when you paint such a lewd picture of yourself in my head?"

"I'm fingering myself and wishing you were here, Hongseok. I wanna be strewn out, completely wasted because I'm so drunk on you."

"Tell me what you're doing, _____."

"I've got one finger pumping slowly in and out of my pussy. My palm--nggh--is pressing against my clit. And my other hand is up my shirt, pinching my nipple. It feels so good, Hongseok, oh my God…" You start to get carried away in the pleasure you create for yourself, and you struggle to keep focused.

"I want you here so badly," Hongseok groans, and you know it's because of his pleasure. "I swear I have never in my life wanted anything as much as I want you right now."

Your heart flutters uncontrollably. How does he always manage to make these moments feel romantic? You desperately want to respond, I'm all yours if you want me to be, Hongseok, but it feels too heavy. Too laden with emotion. You swallow all of that down and respond with a much safer, "Tell me what you're doing right now, Hongseok."

"I'm thrusting my cock into my fist and desperately wishing it was your pussy instead, wishing I could fill my hands with your ass and occupy my lips with yours."

You whimper at his words. Imagining him fucking his hand drives you absolutely wild, especially when accompanied with such sweet words. And you can hear his hard breathing, his deep dulcet tones as he tells you exactly what you want to hear.

Hongseok continues, "My cock is throbbing in my hand, fuck, I wanna be inside of you so bad."

"I'm dying to feel your cock again," you moan quietly, careful to keep your volume low. As you slip in another finger, you feel the deep pressure that you know precedes some of your most amazing orgasms. Oh, this is gonna be good. "Fuck, Hongseok…"

He moans softly too, murmuring your name as he pleasures himself. "I want to feel your wet pussy squeezing my cock," he groans. "What do you think, _____?"

"I want it, Hongseok, I want you to…" You're cut off by the buzzing of your phone.

"Check your phone," Hongseok breathily commands.

You release your nipple and pick up your phone with one hand, the other coming to a standstill with two fingers still pressed inside you. Electric anticipation shoots through you at the thought of receiving another dirty photo from him.

But this time, it's not a photo.

Hongseok sent you a video.

With a shaky hand you press play, and you're immediately drowning in lust. The video shows his hand tightly gripping his cock as it moves up and down the shaft, slick with spit or lube or something. You hear him hum your name in the video's sound.

"I want to feel your wet pussy squeezing my cock," he groaned, and it sounds even more filthy and amazing because he recorded it. And then the video shifts up his torso and to his stunningly handsome face. Hongseok stares right into the camera, flicks his tongue across his lower lip, and asks, "What do you think, _____?"

You watch it again, open-mouthed in shock and practically imploding. Not only is the video the single most sexy thing you've ever seen, but he was brave enough to send you his face? If you wanted to, you could use this video alone to turn him in to the school. He literally just handed you blackmail.

You would never, ever in a million years use this video for that purpose, though. It's just amazing to you that he would trust you so much to send you such incriminating content.

"Hongseok," you finally speak. "You are so unbelievably perfect."

"Hardly," he lets out a soft, low chuckle. "I'm just horny out of my mind right now."

"Me too, and fuck it feels so good."

"I want to see you, _____."

Your breath catches in your throat. You've never taken a video of yourself like that before, and it sends a dangerous thrill through you that he's asking for one. And as you pick up your phone, you see the call screen, and you notice that small little camera--the tiniest suggestion that you could change this call to a video call at any moment.

And then you dare to press it.

The phone rings again as you wait for Hongseok to answer the video call, and you're wholly unprepared to see his face when he picks up.

He looks at his phone for a moment, just looking at you, and then the most beautiful smile breaks across his face. "Hey."

Every organ in your chest is an absolute wreck. "Hey," you echo.

"This isn't quite what I expected when I said I wanted to see you, but I'll take it."

"It's convenient though, isn't it?" Your walls involuntarily clench around your fingers, reminding you of your need for release. "Let me… show you."

You lower the phone to skim down your body--although your top half is still covered by your t-shirt so you're really not showing much--and when you get down to the hand tucked between your legs, you lift one leg and wrap your arm around it to get a good shot of your pussy. Your fingers press deep into your slit, and you moan for Hongseok.

"Shit, _____, you look so good. I wish I could taste you."

You pull out your fingers and separate them, showing him the strings of your wetness that spread between your digits. "That's what you want?" And then you bring your hand and your phone up towards your face, putting on your best sultry eyes as you twirl your tongue around the tips of your fingers.

Hongseok groans, "Oh Christ," and then he shows you his cock, forcing you to plunge your fingers back inside your pussy out of sheer desperation.

"Hongseok, I wanna cum so bad," you whimper. You can feel it building deep within you, and you just need something to push you over the edge. And honestly, watching him work his cock might just be enough.

You feel absolutely depraved watching him stroke himself, curling your fingers into your pussy as you masturbate together. It's delightfully sinful and you're obsessed with the way it makes you feel.

"Hong… Hongseok…" you moan his name, forcing your eyes to stay open so that you can keep your focus on his hard length. The coil in your abdomen tightens to its limit, and you're entirely aware that the dam is about to break. You struggle to keep your pussy in frame, as you push yourself over the edge. "Watch, watch! I'm coming…"

And just like that, your whole pussy convulses and you abruptly pull out your fingers, watching as you squirt all over your bed. It's nearly impossible to prevent your moaning, so you do your best to keep the volume down as you explode.

Hongseok sounds just as pleased as you thought he might be when you hear a string of expletives come over the line. But even his words are broken up with soft grunts and almost-moans. "I didn't know… you could do that."

"Sometimes," you laugh, quite out of breath from the water show. "Do you like it?"

"Of course I do," his hand picks up its pace. "I want to make you squirt next time."

"You can do that," you acknowledge. Even after your release, you notice that your clit isn't at all sensitive and you are still pretty turned on. So you keep your hand down there, absentmindedly rubbing circles into your bud.

It's not long before you feel the need to engage your hips. You start thrusting up against your fingers, but you want something more.

"I need your cock," you moan to him, partially convinced that his body is the only thing you’re missing.

"I can't even tell you how badly I want to give it to you," he responds in a dark, sultry tone. On camera, he starts to thrust up into his hand instead of just stroking it, and you think it looks absolutely amazing. You thrust your hips in time with his, but you need more.

Less-than-gracefully, you climb up onto your hands and knees, propping your phone up against your headboard. He gets a nice tall shot of you kneeling on the bed, legs spread and strings of juices hanging from your pussy, and you hear him groan something about how he loves this view.

You grab your pillow and fold it in half for extra height before tucking it between your legs and spreading your folds so that your clit rubs directly against the pillowcase. You ruthlessly hump your pillow, eyes completely trained on your phone so you don't miss a second of Hongseok's jerking.

"Christ, you're unbelievably sexy. That is so hot, _____," Hongseok groans. His hand twists the head of his cock before plunging back down the shaft, his arm muscles bulging as he quickly jerks off. You can see his cock rapidly twitching, pulsing extra hard as he approaches orgasm.

“Think about me riding you, Hongseok,” you quietly moan, trying to encourage him to climax. “Think about burying your cock in my pussy and grabbing my hips and filling me up with your cum.”

“Is that what you want?” His breathing is ragged. “You want me to cum inside you?”

“Yes, I want it,” you confess, and you know it’s the truth. You’ve fantasized about letting him fuck you raw so he can feel every inch of you as he cums. You’re dying to know what that feels like.

“Fucking Christ…” Hongseok’s hand moves a little faster, strokes a little deeper, until it’s clear that he can’t hold back anymore. “_____…”

With just a few more pumps, Hongseok finally releases, his throaty moans accompanying each rope of cum that shoots up onto his chest. Between the sounds and the visual he provides, you simply cannot handle yourself.

“Hongseok,” you murmur his name. You continue to grind against your pillow, blissfully soaking it with your juices. The delicious tension in your abdomen is too much--it's coiled too tightly and it's going to snap any second now.

Your eyes squeeze shut so you can better imagine Hongseok lying beneath you, his calloused hands grasping your waist as you rock and grind your hips.

"_____, you're perfect. Fucking perfect. Ride me, _____." He seems to play along with the fantasy in your head, inching you closer until you finally break.

Pure, blissful pleasure rushes through you like adrenaline as you orgasm, roughly dragging your clit over the cotton of your pillowcase. It takes everything in you to keep quiet, and your thighs tremble with each powerful wave.

And when you finally open your eyes, you see Hongseok watching you with so much adoration it makes you want to cry.

"That was amazing," you pant, breathing hard from the exertion of your orgasm.

"It was amazing to watch, too." Hongseok beams. "I am so attracted to you it kills me."

You collapse onto your bed, tossing your pillow aside and picking up your phone. Hongseok genuinely appears to be glowing, and you can't help but wonder if he sees you the same way. You just smile and say, "I can't wait to see you."

"Neither can I," he responds warmly. He takes a moment to wipe the cum off of his chest with a towel, and then he settles back into his bed, lying on his side and gazing sweetly at you through his phone. "I can't tell you how badly I want to kiss you right now."

"I wish you could. Man, you're such a good kisser."

“Sunday. I’ll kiss you all I want on Sunday.”

It’s weird how much you wish you could just reach through the phone and touch him, run your fingers over his cheek, brush his hair out of his eyes. Your heart pounds as your eyes skim over his face, taking in his beautiful image. He makes you feel so warm and happy. It’s undeniable that you’ve got feelings for him. And so you don’t even think twice before the words come out of your mouth: “I like you, Hongseok. I don’t care that you’re my professor. I’m done worrying about that because I just like you and I want you and that’s all there is to it.”

It’s true. One-hundred percent.

Hongseok’s smile is small and sweet, but bursting with tenderness. “I like you too, _____. I don’t care about you being my student, either. We’ll make this work for us.”

“Mhm.” The fluttering in your chest is endless, and you know this couldn’t feel more right. “We’ll make it work.”

You both stay on the line as you turn off lights and tuck into bed. Hongseok talks to you about nothing, and your mind is finally at ease as your eyelids start to become heavy with sleep. His voice is a lullaby and when you finally fall asleep, you dream of nothing but the warmth of his arms.

POST SCRIPT | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 11, and let me know if you want to be tagged when I post it!

#ksmutclub #uninet #universe-net #hongseok smut #yang hongseok smut #pentagon smut #pentagon hongseok smut #hongseok #yang hongseok #ptg hongseok #pentagon hongseok #pentagon fanfic #pentagon fanfics #pentagon scenarios #pentagon scenario #hongseok scenario #hongseok scenarios #hongseok fanfic #hongseok fanfics

131 notes · View notes

snowdice · 4 years

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 15]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 3-7 and what I have of Chapter 8 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

This thing is going to be 1K words with the semester I’m having. :P The plan is to do a lot of work today. I even have my dinner in a crock-pot. I’m giving a presentation on October 13th and want to basically knock out the prep today so I don’t have to have it hanging over my head. Not sure if I will achieve that, but that’s the plan! I have big goals! Wish me luck! :D

Chapter 3

Janus and Remus both appeared at the same moment a couple of feet apart in what looked like the inside of a garden shed. There was already a man waiting for them a few feet away. “Sup babes,” Remy said, just like he always did. The T-Agent looked their costumes up and down and whistled. “Now that,” he said, “almost makes me want to be one of you time jockeys.”

“They wouldn’t let me have a gun or a canister of moonshine,” Remus pouted.

Remy snorted. “Sorry, babes, but that makes my job a lot easier. If I’ve gotta fish you outta the 1920s criminal justice system, I’d rather it not be because you shot someone on accident ‘cause you don’t know how to use the safety.”

Remus groaned dramatically. “Everyone is lame.”

Remy just shook his head. “Meet back here when you’ve got the necklace,” he said. “Don’t make a move until after 11:05pm and before 11:17. That’s your window.”

“We know,” Janus said. “See you then.”

“Have fun at the party boys,” Remy said and then lowered his shades to look at Remus, “but not too much fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Remus, already towing Janus out of the garden shed. The way had been specifically cleared for them, so they met no other people before they’d rounded the house the party was taking place and had gotten onto the driveway in front of the house.

Without missing a beat, they strolled up to the front of the house, just as a car pulled into the end of the driveway. Janus rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, a man who was clearly the butler answered the door. They handed over their invitation, and the man immediately let them in.

The party had already started when they slipped into the medium sized ballroom that had been decked out in streamers and other decorations. Janus’s nose immediately wanted to scrunch as the smell of sweat from all the dancing already going on as well as the too strong perfume meant to cover that stench wafted over him. It was by far not the worst smelling time period, but he was pretty sure some people still weren’t aware deodorant had been recently invented.

He checked his time piece which had been disguised as a fancy wristwatch for this trip. “Okay,” he said. “We have about two hours before we need to make our move. We should…”

Remus’s attention was already being dragged away by a young man who seemed to be providing guests with food. “I’m going to go ‘mingle’,” he said, winking.

“No!” Janus hissed. “Re- Richard! No!”

Yet, he was already disappearing into the horde of stinky bodies, likely to go scandalize a bunch of rich folks, and leaving Janus alone. Janus mumbled a curse under his breath that he was sure no one around him would understand even if they could make it out.

Unsure what to do with himself, he wandered over towards where the live musicians were playing jazz music, being sure to keep out of the way of the dancers. He was edging around the makeshift dancefloor, when one of said dancers must have misstepped and knocked into another one. The second man stumbled right towards Janus, arms pinwheeling. Janus reached out on instinct to catch the man as he fell.

There was a moment where the two of them just stared at each other, surprise evident on the other man’s face. He was wearing a mask that just covered the area around his eyes and the top of his nose, revealing a smattering of freckles across his cheeks that Janus imagined extended to his nose.

The mask was a light blue velvet with a flower stuck on the side near his right ear, and a trail of curled golden ribbon bobbed down around his chin. The party continued on around them, a blur of movement and sound.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked.

The man blinked up at him and then tilted his head slightly to the side as though confused, before a smile slowly grew on his face. “Oh, I’m fine Dove.”

“Dove?” Janus asked.

He giggled. “You have dove feathers on your mask,” he explained, reaching up a hand to touch one. His finger brushed the tip of Janus’s ear, “and I don’t know what else I am supposed to call you.”

“My name is Lee,” he automatically lied.

“Is it?” he asked, sounding amused. “Doesn’t seem to fit you well. I like Dove better.”

“Oh?” asked Janus. “And what’s your name so I can not call you that?”

The man chuckled. “Call me Pat.”

“Hello Pat,” Janus said.

“I thought you didn’t want to call me by my name.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hmmm,” Pat said, finger tracing idly across Janus’s forearm which was when Janus realized with a start that he was still holding the man in his arms. He quickly went to release him, which Pat allowed with clear amusement.

Yet, instead of completely stepping away, Pat grabbed Janus’s arm. “What are you doing all the way over here by the way?” he asked. “Don’t you want to dance.”

“Oh,” Janus hesitated. “I don’t really dance.” Or at least not in the way the people around him were. He’d had basic training for this style, but it had been a while and he was a bit rusty.

“Everyone dances Dove,” Pat claimed. “At least if they know the steps and have the right partner.”

“But I don’t know the steps,” Janus said with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed. “Well, I know the dance pretty well by this point,” Pat said. “Why don’t I teach you how it goes.”

He was agreeing with the soft beseeching tone before he even realized it. Pat pulled him into the middle of the throng of people. He seemed to think, bopping his head to the music playing for a moment, before looking back at Janus. “Heard of James Johnson?”

Janus inclined his head.

“Well, have you heard his new song? Because there’s a dance that goes with it.”

He took a few steps away from Janus and started to dance. Despite his claim to know the steps, he wasn’t particularly good, but he made up for any loss of rhythm with pure enthusiasm.

Janus found himself smiling at the man, and after a few moments, joined in with the dance. Despite his lack of practice, he ended up having a better natural rhythm than Pat. Pat didn’t seem to mind that he was being outperformed, however. On the contrary, he giggled at himself the couple of times he stumbled.

When he fell into Janus’s arms for the second time that night, Janus decided he’d probably had enough dancing for the moment and pulled him off to the side to get something to drink and cool down a bit.

He watched the man take a snack and some punch from one of servers and thank him happily before turning back to Janus. Pat was easily able to keep Janus’s attention as they chatted. He was bubbly and soft, and Janus found himself enchanted as they talked.

He was explaining the steps of a different dance, a couples one. “Knowing how to perform the tango will entrance any girl you want,” Pat said, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. “Assuming you’re that type of fella.”

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked.

Pat leaned in a bit closer. Not too much, but enough that he was definitely in Janus’s space. “A different type of fella,” he said simply, before smiling and leaning back.

Janus let out a shaky exhale and took a sip of punch. He glanced over at Pat. “Tell me about yourself, Pat,” he said.

Pat hummed in contemplation. “Well, I went to France recently.”

“You did?”

“Oui, c'était amusant, mais j'ai eu des ennuis”

“What kind of trouble?” Janus asked curiously.

“Oh, the kind with a pretty boy and crepes that were way too sweet. Anyway,” he continued. “Other than that, I mostly help out my friend. He’s an inventor.”

“And how do you help him.”

He shrugged, “Running errands mostly, and making sure he gets enough sleep, because otherwise he gets distracted and forgets. And you?”

“I’m a banker,” he said, remembering his cover, but felt compelled to add, “but I like to travel as well.”

“You do look the type?”

“And how is that?”

Pat shrugged. “I can always tell a wandering spirt from the masses, and you are easy to spot.” Pat looked at him then with a secret smile on his face, and Janus felt suddenly known, like the man in front of him had known him for years even though they’d only just met. Looking at him then, he wanted suddenly for that to be fact and not a flight of fancy.

He was brought firmly back to reality in the next moment. “Lee,” a pointed and familiar voice said. Janus’s head snapped up to see Remus, staring at him. He tapped his wrist. Janus glanced at his own wrist: 10:58pm. He just barely managed not to curse.

“I,” he said looking up at Pat. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“That’s okay,” Pat said easily. “It is getting rather late.”

“Yes,” Janus agreed. “Well… goodbye.”

Pat, titled his head, a half smile on his face. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Janus nodded, and turned away from him towards Remus. He didn’t look back as they excited the ballroom. They snuck into a small side closet for coats that wasn’t being used as it was summer.

“So,” Remus said when the door closed behind them.

“Don’t,” warned Janus.

“I’m not one to judge,” Remus said.

“Shut up.” He glanced at his watch. It was 11:02. “We’ll go in 5.”

“I have to give it to you. He was very cute.”

“We’re not talking about it.”

Remus just laughed joyfully, and Janus did his best to halt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

At 11:07, well into their window, they slipped back out of the closet, and towards the stairs as the party raged on.

Despite how Remus usually never shut up, he was able to be quiet when it counted. They snuck to the master bedroom of the home’s owners in silence. The door was already wide open by the time they got there, and Janus didn’t think anything of it. At least, he didn’t until they entered the bedroom, and there was someone already there.

He turned from the dresser he’d been standing in front of to face them, sending Janus the same smile he had down in the ballroom. Janus and Remus both froze. “Sorry, sweetie,” Pat said. “Were you here for this too?” he held up the necklace they’d been sent for. He closed his fist around the charm made out of time travel tech.

“What?” Janus said.

Pat giggled and winked. “Unfortunately, I need it a bit more than you at the moment. So, I’m gonna have to go.” Janus stepped forward, not really sure what he was intending to do, but Pat just smiled. “See you some other time, my Turtle Dove.” With a snap of his fingers and loud crack, he disappeared. The mask he’d been wearing fluttered to the ground.

Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

“Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

“Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

“Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

“But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

“I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite the fact that it was late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. So, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time.

Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you hear and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my question!” he called back to Remus.

“It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

“My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could go always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

“Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

He did just that as Remus disappeared back into his kitchen. The cat hopped onto his stomach, proceeding to purr loudly and kneed at chest. Janus petted the cat and listened to the noise of Remus moving around in the other room, letting his mind drift. His mind drifted to Virgil for a bit and he steadfastly did not allow it to drift to his brother. Yet, the thing that most was on his mind was the strange man who had flirted and charmed Janus all night before mercilessly screwing him over. ‘Pat’ he’d said his name was, but surely that was not his real name.

Janus sighed and scratched the cat’s ear. “He certainly wasn’t an amateur,” Janus mused to the cat. “With that amount of precision to get in before we did, he must have someone not on the ground feeding him information. Perhaps more than one.” He was part of a group of time traveling thieves perhaps or something worse. “I didn’t get a good look at his face since he was wearing a mask,” Janus said, “but I spent a lot of time with him, and I’m sure Remy swiped the mask from the police since it had been on me when I was arrested. It’s a good lead.”

He continued to pet Diesel Fuel. Eventually, Remus came back in, noticed Janus hadn’t bothered to get the alcohol and went outside to the cellar. “I’m going to find him,” Janus told Diesel Fuel. “I’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing, and I’ll bring him in.” Diesel Fuel mewed her support, and Janus patted her on top of the head.

Remus came back in with the bottle of vodka and handed it to him without a word. He sat down on the couch near Janus’s feet and patted his lap so Diesel Fuel would come over to him and allow Janus to sit up.

The bastard waited until he was approximately 3 shots in (he didn’t have a shot glass and was just taking drinks from the bottle) to ask the questions Janus really didn’t want to answer. “Are you mad at Emile?” Remus asked.

Janus groaned, trying to wash out the bitter taste of shame and grief with the sharp sting of vodka. It didn’t work. “No,” he said to Remus.

“Then why have you been avoiding him?”

“Shit, I’m here because I didn’t want to think about it. Can’t we just not.”

“Don’t want to think about what?

“It’s none of your business, Remus.”

He could feel Remus frowning at him, but Janus stared resolutely ahead. At least, he did until a foot poked his face. He slapped it away, but it did the job of getting Janus to look at Remus.

“It is my business,” Remus said, foot still in the air. “I’m your partner and your friend.”

“If I’m your friend, you’ll drop it.”

“So, you’re not mad at Emile,” Remus continued, contemplatively. “Did you do something to him, then?” Janus bit his lip and looked away. “What?” Remus asked. Janus didn’t respond. “Look, I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever it is. He’s a good guy. Just talk to him about it.”

“I can’t,” Janus said.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably been long enough that he forgives you. You literally just have to have a conversation, say you’re sorry, and everything will be A-OK.”

“I can’t,” Janus repeated.

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about it.”

Remus paused. “So, as far as he knows, you just cut contact with him all of a sudden for no reason and have been avoiding him ever since?”

Janus looked at his shoes. “Yeah.”

“That…” Remus said, “is not fucking fair Janus.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you doing that to him? He’s like… soft and feeling-y. He’s probably really upset.”

“I know, Remus.”

“Tell him. Whatever it is.”

“I can’t.”

“Look,” Remus said. “You tell him and he either forgives you or he doesn’t. If he does, everything’s fine. If he doesn’t… well, it’s not like it would be any different from you two never being in the same room the last few years. Either way, you can’t just do this to him. He’ll probably forgive you. He’s your brother. Brothers don’t… brothers would forgive each other.”

Janus laughed softly and met Remus’s eyes. “That’s the problem,” he said. “He’d definitely forgive me.” He turned away and opened the vodka bottle again. “Now, if you’ll shut up for a few minutes, I’m going to drink until I black out.”

Chapter 6

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time travel incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

“We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority thing?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked sitting up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so I’ll be running it.”

“Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only senior agents.

He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness.

In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. Even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the time lock would serve to prevent most damage outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and it would break the moment the time lock ended.

As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So, we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus as a seasoned time traveler could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it go.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

“Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him as he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man. He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

Chapter 7

“Him,” was the only thing Janus said before taking off after the figure who had just disappeared into the game area.

“What?” Remus’s voice followed after him. “Janus! What?!”

Janus did not pause, just continuing to run after Pat, hopping over two barricades as a shortcut. Janus cursed when he lost sight of the man for just a moment near the prize table filled with colorful goldfish, but he was able to spot him once again walking into one of the tents. Janus blasted into the tent. It was a game where they raced rats, and when Janus entered, Pat was cooing at one of them.

“Who’s a tiny little squishy precious baby?” he was asking one of them, wiggling his pointer finger at it.

“You,” Janus growled stepping up to him.

He turned and tilted his head at Janus with a frown. “Um, me?” he asked, pointing to his chest, all sorts of innocent, but Janus could see a spot of hidden amusement in his eyes.

“Where is it?”

His eyebrows drew together, but it was an act. It was clearly an act! “Where is what?”

“The…” he glanced around them at the people surrounding them. “Thing you just took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Pat said with a frown.

“Oh, no,” Janus said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fooling me twice is not an option.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Pat said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Just then, Remus jogged into the tent. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s him,” Janus said pointing. “He took it. He has it.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patton said. He looked over to Remus with a confused frown.

Remus looked at Janus. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “It’s him. It has to be him. He’s the mask guy.”

Remus squinted at Pat. “He is?”

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I haven’t worn a mask all night. I just did the face paint,” he pointed to his cheeks.

Remus raised his wrist and his timepiece lit up green. He looked at Janus.

“I lost sight of him for five seconds. He must have stashed it somewhere,” Janus said. He turned on Pat. “Where did you put it?”

“…Are you,” Pat asked, his eyes going back and forth between Janus and Remus, “… the police?”

“We are, actually,” Khalid said as she stepped into the tent. Remus must have called her. She inserted herself between Janus and Pat. “Agent Khalid,” she said, offering a hand with a smile. Pat looked at it in surprise and then smiled back hesitantly as he took it. “Apologizes, one of the big game prizes was stolen by someone matching your description. Would you mind coming down to security for questioning? Just to clear it up.”

“Oh,” Patton said, hesitant. Janus expected him to refuse outright, but then he said. “Uh, sure.”

“Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Jonas,” Pat told her earnestly. “Do I need to be handcuffed?”

“No,” Khalid said. Janus frowned at her, but she ignored him. “It’s just a talk for now.” She gestured to the tent entrance. “Come with us.”

He did without argument, and Remus and Janus followed behind the both of them. Khalid did not lead them back to the base, but to a little spot that said “security” near the center of the event. Remy was already there waiting for them at a desk.

“Remy, would you please take Mr. Jonas to go sit down?” she asked.

“Sure, boss,” Remy said, standing up. He led Pat away.

Khalid turned to Janus and Remus once they were out of earshot. “What is going on?”

“It’s the mask man,” Janus said, “the one from 1923, and my scanner said the time bomb was on the Millenia Bird outside the games entrance, but then it was gone the next second, and I saw him, and then he ran away.”

“So, does he have it on him?”

“No. I lost sight of him, and he must have stored it somewhere, but I know he took it.”

10264

“He’s the man from 1923?” she asked.

“Yes! Remus, that’s him, right? You recognize him.”

“Well,” Remus said thoughtfully. “He was in a mask, and it was dark in the room with the necklace. Other than that, I only really saw his back, and he was wearing pants. Mr. Jonas is wearing a dress, so I can’t really tell if their asses match.”

“Okay, but I was with him for hours. I swear it’s him, and I swear he took it,” Janus just about shouted.

“We’ll question him,” Khalid placated, “and Fred and Lena will keep looking in the meantime.”

“He knows where it is,” Janus insisted. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Khalid said, before leaving to follow where Remy and Pat had gone. She stopped Janus with a hand on his shoulder. “I think Remus and I will do the interrogation.” He opened his mouth to argue. “You know the most about him, so observe from the sidelines and see if he makes any mistakes that indicate you’re right.”

“That’s just to placate me and you know it.”

“Observation’s over there,” she said pointing.

He got a thumbs up from Remus as he walked by, and Janus glared at his back before walking off to the indicated location.

He watched as Remus and Khalid entered the room, and Remy left it. Remy joined him in the observation room after leaving and leaned against the wall.

Pat was sitting at a table and watched Remus and Khalid with that same rubbish placid confusion that he had before. “So,” Khalid said, “Mr. Jonas.”

“You can call me Nick,” Pat interrupted.

“Lia,” Khalid replied. He smiled at her happily. “So, are you enjoying your day?” she asked.

“I am!” he replied. “It’s a big day. You only get to see the turn of a millennia once in your life.”

“Ah, yes,” Khalid said. “Doing anything special for it?”

“Um, not really,” he said. “Other than the party. I’m going to meet up with my roommates after dinner. Kevin doesn’t like this sort of thing, and Joe couldn’t come.”

“Your roommates,” Khalid said, considering him. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh huh,” Pat replied.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I do, want me to get it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Pat unzipped one of the bubbles on his waist and handed her a chip. “Remus, would you mind going out and getting the ID scanner?” she asked, even though her timepiece would be able to read it.

“Ah, shit,” Remy said. “Props. What do those things even look like?”

As Remy scrambled to find something that would pass for an ID reader so “Nick” didn’t get suspicious of Khalid using her timepiece, Janus watched the two alone in the room like a hawk.

“I see you’re wearing a dress inspired by the 2770s,” Khalid noted, as Remus came to stand next to him.

“Yeah!” Pat replied. “Joe made it for me. He’s really good at fashion design!”

“Can I see?” she asked.

With a happy smile, he reached over the table to let her get a look of the sleeves. Janus saw her subtly scan the fabric, probably to make sure it was from the 2990s and not actually from the 2770s. Considering she didn’t mention it, Janus assumed it checked out.

Remy came back with some sort of device then and handed it to Remus who saluted and wandered back into the interrogation room. Khalid pretended to scan the ID in her hand. She handed it back to him without comment. “So, you said you live with your roommates: Joe and Kevin?” she asked.

“Yep!” he replied. “We’re practically like brothers.”

“Would you mind calling them?”

“Erm,” he titled his head like he was confused by the question. “Well, like I said, Joe is a bit busy, but I could definitely call Kevin.

“Here,” Khalid said, “use my phone.”

“I have my own,” he said with a frown.

“Humor me,” she requested.

“Uh, okay,” Pat agreed. He took the offered 2999 phone and dialed a number on it. Khalid reached over to put it on speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a few seconds.

“Um, hey Kevin, it’s Nick.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Hello Nick, is something wrong? Why are you calling me from someone else’s phone?”

“I’m fine, I think.” He looked up at Khalid. “Why am I calling him exactly?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Khalid,” Khalid said. “I just wanted to confirm that you are Nick Jonas’s roommate, and he does live in Manaus.”

“Yes, we live together with our other roommate,” the man replied flippantly. “Officer? Is something wrong?”

“I believe there was just a case of mistaken identity,” Khalid said.

“Bullshit there was!” Janus hissed, though she could not hear him.

“No need to worry,” Khalid continued.

“I’m good Kevin,” Pat said.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be Paranoid, Kevin. I’ll see you Tonight for the New Years Celebration. You know I Live to Party.”

“I am hanging up now,” Kevin said.

“No! Comeback.” The line went dead. Pat handed the device back to Khalid.

She took it and smiled at him. “Give us just a couple of minutes,” she requested. He nodded easily, and she and Remus exited the interrogation room. “I… think we’re done here,” Khalid said.

“No, he’s lying,” Janus insisted, and got a dubious look in return. “I know he is! Remus!”

“The alibi is pretty solid…” Remus said, “and he doesn’t have the bomb on him.”

“Oh, come on,” Janus said. “You can’t say there is nothing fishy going on here.”

Khalid and Remus shared a look. “Janus,” Khalid said. “I respect your intuition. It is usually very good, but you have been a bit intense about the man from the 1920s, and I think that may be blinding you a bit...”

“I am not imagining this!” Janus said. “That’s him and he took it.”

“You only met him once while he was wearing a mask,” Khalid pointed out with a frown, “and you didn’t see him take the bomb, did you?”

“No, but he looked at me and I knew,” Janus argued. They both gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on!”

“You know that’s a little weak, Jan,” Remus said.

“Let me talk to him,” Janus requested. “Just give me five minutes to talk with him.”

Khalid raised one eyebrow. “Fine,” she agreed. “You have five minutes, but after that, you have to let it go. We can’t waste any more time.”

Chapter 8

Pat looked up as Janus stepped into the interrogation room. “Hi,” he said with an innocent smile that could cut steal.

Janus didn’t say a word as he took a seat; he just watched him intently. He leaned slightly over the table and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “So, your name is Nick this time?” Janus asked.

“Nicholas Jonas,” he said. “Always has been.”

“Stop it,” Janus said.

“Stop what?”

“Cut the crap. I know.”

Pat leaned forward, mirroring Janus as he leaned closer, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin on top of his knuckles. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked, pleasantly.

“Janus,” Janus replied.

“No, I’m Jonas,” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Not Jonas,” Janus spat. “Janus.”

“Um,” Pat said, eyes alight with amusement. The bastard. “Those are the same words.”

“No, they’re not. It’s Janus. J-A-N-U.-S.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” Pat said with a frown, but his nose was crinkling. “It’s close to my name. You should go by a nickname instead.”

“What?” Janus said. “No.”

Pat hummed. “How about Love Bug?”

“What! No!” Janus sputtered, almost flipping the table, as Pat winked at him.

“BB Good?”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Mandy.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, how about Macy Misa.”

11594

Janus stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Whatever. What was I even talking about?”

“Hmm. I Believe we were talking about my name and how you think it’s not my name.”

“Right,” Janus said. “So, Nick. That was your roommate, Kevin on the phone, right? He seemed a bit unhappy with you. Any reason?”

“Nah, we’re Cool” said Pat. “That’s Just the Way We Roll.”

“Not because you’re messing up a mission right now?”

Pat’s eyes crinkled together. “A mission?” he parroted. “I’m not messing up a mission.”

“Oh, really?” Janus growled. “Because you’ve been captured by the TPI, and I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no idea what the TPI is,” he claimed.

“Yes, you do!” Janus said, standing up. “You obviously do! Or you wouldn’t be playing this game!”

“Game?” Pat asked. “Macy I ask you what you’re talking about.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it!” Janus said, slamming his hands down on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Pat said, putting his hands up. “Calm down. Your face is getting all red. You must be Burnin’ Up.”

“I’m not sure what, but something about what you just said pisses me off.”

“And that is five minutes,” Khalid said, bursting into the room. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and glared back at Remus who was putting his own body between Janus and Pat.

“There was no way that was five minutes,” Janus growled.

“It was five minutes,” Khalid gritted out. “Remus, get him out of here.”

“Come on Jay,” Remus said, dragging him back towards the door.

“Remus, I swear to god.”

“Just chill, Janus,” Remus said, slamming the door closed behind them.

Janus shrugged him off. “You chill!” he snapped. “He’s playing you all for the fool.”

“Wow, Macy,” Remy drawled like an asshole. “I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“Oh, my gosh. No one is going to believe me, and he’s going to get away with this.”

“You’re not really helping your case, babe,” Remy said.

Remus grabbed him by the shoulders again. “Here, let’s go get some water.”

“I don’t want water,” he said even as he let Remus lead him to another room to get a glass of water.

“Look,” Remus said. “I know the Mask Guy thing really sucked, but you have to look at the facts.

“I am looking at the facts,” Janus insisted, “and the facts are, he’s fucking with me.”

“You don’t know what mask guy looks like,” Remus said. “You didn’t see Nick take the time bomb, he has an ID from this time period and a roommate in this time he called on the phone, and he legitimately seems to not know what any of us are talking about.”

“Did you even listen to our conversation?” Janus asked. “He was screwing with me the entire time!”

“Janus…” Remus said.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s tone.

“I know you recently had a bad experience, but not everyone who flirts with you is doing it out of evil.”

Janus’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “That’s what you got out of our conversation?”

“He called you Love Bug.”

Janus felt his face heat a bit at the reminder. “That’s not… I. I’m stealing your cat and then never speaking to you again.”

Remus laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Young lust.”

Janus elbowed him roughly in the side. “No!”

“Yes!” he crooned, pleased.

#study break stories #not writing

45 notes · View notes

cantgetoutofmyheda · 4 years

Text

Falling in Love in a Quarantine: Part 9.5

—

PART 9.5: DAY 20

After Lexa’s somewhat of a confession, she simply hopped out of bed as if nothing had happened and exited the room. Clarke, still totally unsure of what had transcended—and certainly unsure of how to navigate the rest of the day—stayed put in her spot.

Almost fifteen minutes later, Lexa called from downstairs, “Clarke,” a pause. “C’mon, breakfast is almost ready!”

Clarke scrunched her face. That’s where Lexa fled off to, because, of course.

She took her time—changed into another set of comfortable clothes, brushed her teeth, tried to salvage the mess of bedhead, and finally made her way down to the kitchen.

“What’s all this?” Clarke’s brow was raised—pancakes and eggs were set on the small table.

Lexa sat down at her normal seat, “I figured if we were going to have somewhat of an awkward conversation, pancakes would help us ease into it.”

“Do we have to do this right now?” Clarke sighed.

“We don’t,” Lexa shrugged. “But figured it would be better to, rather than us be home all day pretending like nothing happened.”

“Fine,” Clarke rolled her eyes, begrudgingly taking her seat as she watched Lexa put food onto her plate. “Thanks.”

“So,” they both started at the same time, both gave an awkward laugh, before Clarke finally spoke up again.

“Sorry,” she smiled. “You first?”

“Sure,” Lexa nodded. “I know you said you were mortified,” she started, her inquisitive eyes finding Clarke’s. “But I really want you to know you have no reason to be. I woke up and realized what was happening, and I just…”

She paused—perhaps the conversation she wanted to have with Clarke would be harder than she initially thought.

“You what?” Clarke finally asked, breaking the silence.

“I just wanted it, too,” Lexa confessed. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around a few things, and Anya has been saying–”

“Anya?” Clarke immediately turned her attention from the hot cake on her fork back up to Lexa. “What has Anya been saying?”

“Nothing, really,” Lexa shrugged. “I mean, she’s been asking me if something’s been going on between us, and I keep telling her that nothing has—that we’ve been the same as usual, but I suppose our ‘same as usual’ has always raised eyebrows in the past anyway.”

“I’m going to kill Raven,” Clarke shook her head.

“Raven?” Lexa tilted her head in thought. “What does Raven have to do with this?”

“She probably fucking told Anya everything,” Clarke let out. “I’m seriously going to kill her.”

“Everything?” Lexa set her fork down—her eyes were keenly focused on Clarke’s. “I don’t think Raven’s said anything to her. What do you mean by ‘everything?’”

“What has Anya been saying?” Clarke asked again.

Lexa scrunched her face, “I already told you. What are you talking about with Raven, though?”

“I’ve just been talking to Raven, too,” Clarke exhaled. Her train of thought drifted far away from the breakfast on her plate. Perhaps Lexa was right—pancakes serving as an early-morning icebreaker. “She’s been wondering if something’s been going on with us, also. And has been very vocal that she thinks something should be.”

Lexa nodded in understanding, “Have you said anything to her to make her push for that?”

“Yes,” Clarke admitted. “Yeah, I have.”

Lexa raised a brow, “I see.”

“Is that okay?” Clarke asked.

“Clarke,” Lexa softened her expression. “Of course it is. That’s why we’re sitting here talking about it. I mean, after this morning,” she looked up to meet Clarke’s eyes again. “I think it’s pretty clear that we’re both seeing our relationship differently.”

“When did you first think about it?” Clarke finally asked. She needed to know.

Lexa shrugged, “I think it may have always been in the back of my mind. I’m not sure. You?”

“Sophomore year,” Clarke stated. “I’ve thought about it since sophomore year.”

Lexa’s eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets, “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m saying something now,” Clarke tiredly sighed.

“But back then?” Lexa started. “Why didn’t you say something back then?”

“I tried to, once,” Clarke shook her head. “But we were nineteen, and you were—are—my best friend, and that was just the most terrifying thought.”

“What?” Lexa blinked. “When?”

“Remember sophomore year when you planned that road trip for me, you, Rae, and O to go visit Anya at school?” Clarke smiled at the thought. “Right around that time.”

“I do,” Lexa recalled. “Since then, huh?”

It was a shotty plan, at best, but Lexa was still proud of it. The four friends were to take the holiday weekend, a Friday and Monday off of class, and drive Raven’s old Lesabre on an eight-hour drive to visit Lexa’s childhood best friend. She had met the group a bunch of times, and thankfully, they got along famously—but it was now Lexa’s turn to go visit her, and she wanted to bring everyone else along. The route was easy—Raven was in charge of that. Clarke and Octavia were in charge of road snacks and games, and Lexa was in charge of the playlist for there and back.

It was the Thursday night before they were set to leave, and Lexa barged into Clarke’s dorm room—Clarke and the other two were sitting on the floor discussing food choices and different places to stop for gas and snack-refuels. The look of excitement and happiness on Lexa’s face caught Clarke’s attention—in the two years they had been friends, she had never seen Lexa look so proud, and that’s when she knew.

Lexa held her phone in the air, boastful about the two playlists she created. Beamed at the fact that she sprung for a Spotify premium account so that no ads would interrupt her music flow. Said it was going to be like a symphony of sounds in the car the whole way there and back, and made sure to let everyone know that “no skipping” was allowed.

The smile on Clarke’s face said it all, and though Lexa didn’t catch on, Raven and Octavia most certainly did.

“Was there a particular moment? Did something happen?” Lexa questioned. Her mind was trying to sift through all the memories the pair had shared, trying to pinpoint a place in time that would lead Clarke to feel the way she did all that time ago.

“The look on your face when you came into my room the night before we left,” Clarke sighed again. “You looked so happy, so proud. And my heart dropped into my stomach and I guess I just realized it. I don’t know.”

“That was a killer playlist,” Lexa smiled.

“Debatable,” Clarke raised a brow. “There was too much Kenny Chesney.”

“Clarke,” Lexa started. “I literally crafted that playlist to the scenery I knew we’d be driving through. It was perfect.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, recalling the drive from Nashville to New Orleans, “I wanted to gouge my fucking eyes out.”

“Glad you didn’t,” Lexa smiled. “They’re too pretty.”

Clarke immediately softened, offering Lexa a smile, “Wow, I would have done that sooner had I known it would have meant you’d start being nicer to me.”

“Please,” Lexa scoffed. “I’m always nice to you. It’s probably why everyone always thought something was going on with us.”

“Everyone?” Clarke asked, but was just met with a shrug from Lexa.

“When did you try to tell me?” Lexa asked, changing the subject.

Clarke looked towards the window, then back to Lexa, “A week or so after we got back from Anya’s. Raven and O had been pestering me to finally come clean, and I had some liquid courage, so I figured I might as well.”

“But you didn’t,” Lexa was confused. “I mean, you never told me.”

“Correct,” Clarke gave her a sad smile—it showed in her eyes. “We were in my room—Monty had dropped off a jug of his ‘Murder Sangria’ and we were just drinking it and watching a movie,” Clarke recalled. “I don’t even remember what it was, but something happened and I was the only one that laughed. I couldn’t believe they didn’t think the scene was funny and made a comment about how you would have.”

“We do have a weird sense of humor,” Lexa chuckled. “I’m sure whatever it was, wasn’t actually funny, Clarke.”

“Semantics,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Anyway, they both started egging me on, teasing me about how I was crushing on you and finally got me up and had me marching towards your dorm room to tell you.”

“But you didn’t,” Lexa repeated, still confused as to why Clarke never said a thing to her. “What happened?”

Clarke, tipsy on sangria and drunk off of a mad crush, sauntered over from her dorm room to Lexa’s. Two and a half weeks’ worth of teasing from her other two friends finally drove her to do it. Lexa had opted to skip out on movie night—second semester finals were around the corner, and she was hellbent on maintaining that shining GPA of hers.

A knock at Lexa’s door brought her out of her zone, and once she opened it, she found Clarke with a certain glow to her. Lexa smiled immediately, excited to see her best friend. To Clarke, the smile was the same one that gutted her heart right out of her chest from a few Thursday night’s ago.

“I have to tell you something,” they said in unison—both girls wound up laughing, but Clarke’s anxiety got the best of her. As ready as she was to tell Lexa what she wanted to, she figured another minute wouldn’t hurt her cause.

“You first,” Clarke offered.

“You’ll never guess,” Lexa beamed, her smile was growing even wider, and Clarke’s chest swelled even more at the sight.

Clarke raised a brow, “Then I guess you’ll have to just tell me whatever is it that’s gotten you so riled up, Lex.”

“Costia asked me out,” the look in Lexa’s eyes matched the smile on her face. She was happy—no, she was ecstatic. She was ecstatic and elated and beautiful and everything in between, and Clarke tried to pretend to be the same for the other, but the fake smile on her face was barely enough to mask her devastation.

“Oh, wow, Lex,” Clarke offered.

Lexa nodded, not realizing Clarke’s reply was nowhere near sincere, “You remember, right? That girl I told you about from my poli-sci class?”

“Yeah, wow,” Clarke couldn’t find the words. The combination of the Murder Sangria and Lexa’s news was starting to make her sick, “Lexa that’s awesome. Really exciting. Really happy for you.”

“Thanks!” Lexa beamed. “I think we’re going to try to do something after our poli-sci final this week. I’ll keep you posted. I’m going to need your help with what to wear and all that stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clarke nodded. “Of course.”

“What’d you have to tell me?” Lexa tilted her head. “Sorry, you came here for something and I totally hijacked the conversation.”

Clarke shook her head, “No, it was stupid.” She closed her eyes, “Uh, we were watching a movie and something funny happened and I wanted to tell you, but I don’t even remember. Your news was much more exciting.”

“Oh, okay,” Lexa smiled. “I’m glad you came by, though.”

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded again. “Me too. Night, Lex.”

“I showed up to your room to tell you,” Clarke nearly winced at the thought. “And then you told me about Costia.”

Lexa immediately felt her stomach drop, “Clarke.”

Clarked nodded, “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Lexa asked—Costia was new, but Clarke was a constant. Surely, had Clarke said something, they would have been able to navigate it together all those years ago.

“I’d known you for two years at that point, Lex,” Clarke offered. “I thought you finishing your stupid playlist was the happiest I had seen you, and I guess it was. Until that exact moment.”

“But–”

“No,” Clarke sighed. “You had been talking about her all semester, Lexa. You had a wild crush on her and wouldn’t stop blabbing about it. She finally asked you out, and I wasn’t going to take that away from you.”

“But–”

“No buts, Lex,” Clarke shook her head. “It’s in the past, okay?”

“But it was so new with Cos, Clarke,” Lexa tried. “If you told me, then maybe we could have figured this all out back then.”

“I wasn’t going to get in the way of you and Costia, Lexa,” Clarke started. “And look—it lasted six years with you guys, so it clearly meant something.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, “It’s not like we ended up together.”

“Six years, though,” Clarke pointed out. “It meant something.”

Lexa nodded, “Okay, so have you always felt this way? Since then?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke shrugged. “I really don’t. After all that, I kind of brushed everything to the side. You’ve been my best friend since we met and it was more so me just coming to terms with the fact that that’s all you’d ever be to me. Maybe I kept it in the back of my mind, but since then, I’ve just looked at you as my best friend.”

“Okay,” Lexa nodded. “I get it. So what do we do now?”

“I mean,” Clarke finally broke a smile. “I guess we see where things go? I’d say we take it slow—and this is new territory, so I do want to do that—but considering this morning…”

“We can take things slow and see where things are going, Clarke,” Lexa nodded.

“Can we refrain from telling Raven and Anya and everyone else about this morning, though?” Clarke winced at the thought of the endless teasing that would come her way.

“How about,” Lexa leaned in, grabbing Clarke’s hand with her own. “We keep this between us right now. We’ll see where things go, and if we decide we’re on the right track, we can let those idiots in on it.”

“I like that,” Clarke nodded. “Just me and you?”

Lexa smiled, before releasing her hold on Clarke’s hand. She stood up and made her way towards the blonde, leaning over her seat to brush a stray golden lock behind her ear, “Just me and you.”

Clarke’s expression softened. Her heart was beating out of her chest.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Clarke,” Lexa smiled, looking into her eyes to gauge her reaction.

“Fucking finall–”

Clarke was cut off by the feeling of Lexa’s lips against her own. To her, the kiss was ten years in the making—but the softness of Lexa’s touch, the look she had just given her, the hand that was now caressing her neck—that made it all worth the wait.

#had to redeem myself from the leg humping somehow #FILIAQ #clexa #clexa au #clexa modern au #clexa fic #clexa ficlet #my fic #falling in love in a quarantine #that time when clexa quarantined together

83 notes · View notes

steppedoffaflight · 4 years

Text

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 8

Catch up on Chapter 7 here

The summer tour to promote the album is ready to kick off, and the band is due back in America with a show in Arizona on Tuesday. And while Van has informed you that the other boys will be flying directly from their respective U.K. homes to Phoenix, Van has decided that he would like to fly in to California before road tripping to the venue. In his Range Rover. With you.

Word count: ~11.2k

A/N: I feel like I got more messages this week than ever about how many people love this fic, and it really meant so much to me. I hadn’t realized so many people were following along with Van and Y/N’s journey and it just makes me so excited to put each new chapter out into the world. For everyone who told me how they’re always excited for Wednesdays, know that I am too! This is one of the chapters that really sticks out to me as a favorite, so I hope you love it. Thank you so much for reading. Anyway, I’m done being mushy. Enjoy!

Chapter Eight June 2019

“Shut up,” You say around a mouthful of popcorn.

“I’m being serious!”

“You’re not,” You insist despite Van’s arguing, chomping away.

“I am!” His voice rings out on speakerphone from where you’ve got the phone set on the kitchen table.

You open up a new tab on your laptop, where you’d been putting in some extra time on one of your work assignments. You quickly google Van’s suggestion.

“It’s like a six hour drive, and less than two hours of a flight. Why the fuck would you drive?”

“You think it’s a two hour flight,” Van argues. “But once you take into account checking bags, and delays, and having to be picked up at the airport, it’s still a six hour ordeal.”

He kind of had a point. You’d never managed to take a trip home without being caught in nasty flight delays. But you’d always assumed that was because you flew during the holidays. Still, you’re not caving to Van’s crazy idea.

“I can’t get those days off work,” You tell him.

“Yes you can. I know you can. Your boss loves you.”

He’s right, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Even if I could,” You sigh, “I can’t afford to not work for three days. Some of us live paycheck to paycheck, Van.”

Per usual, Van dissipates a potential argument with humor. “Quit your job. I’ll hire you on as my assistant.”

You choke on a popcorn kernel from laughing. “That’s my worst nightmare. Bending to your whim at all hours of the day. Like right now!”

Van’s voice sounds hopeful when he pipes up, “Are you saying you’re bending to my whim?”

“Absolutely not,” You tell him sternly. “This isn’t how real life works! I don’t have the ability to drop everything and do shit like this just because you want me to.”

“It’s not about me,” Van lies. You roll your eyes. “It’s fun for you, isn’t it? You have vacation time, don’t you? If you’re not taking a big vacation, at least you can have a couple days of fun here or there.”

The most frustrating part of this entire phone call was that Van was right. And now that he’s planted the seed of the idea in your head, you were already becoming hopeful that it would work out and you could slip away to Phoenix for a day. You’d already halfheartedly texted Mary to get her opinion on your predicament.

“It’ll be so much fun,” Van pleads. “You get so caught up in work. It’s good for you to get out.”

You don’t respond, but glare at the phone. You’re so fucking tired of people telling you to get out of your comfort zone. These last two months hanging out with Van have already flipped your comfort zone inside out. You could use a little more comfort in your life, actually.

“I get out a lot, thanks,” You snipe at him.

“You’re welcome, love,” Van says sweetly in retaliation.

Mary’s text notification appears on your laptop. You click it and sigh.

“Well, Mary can’t go,” You tell Van, who’d promised you right off the bat you could bring a guest along.

“Is Mary your only friend?”

“That’s mean!” You pout into the phone.

“M’sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean, I was genuinely asking.”

“She’s not my only friend,” You huff, “But she’s my best friend.” There were no other friends you felt even vaguely comfortable taking a six hour road trip with. “If she can’t go, I’m not going to hang out in Arizona alone, so just forget it.”

“You won’t be alone, you’ll be with me!”

“Yeah, but I’m just supposed to stand around in the crowd alone? And go to the hotel alone? And hang out while you’re at rehearsals alone? Sounds like so much fun.”

“It won’t be like that. Promise. If you’re my only guest I’ll get you a pass and you can go wherever I can. You can hang out during soundcheck, be backstage during the show, whatever.”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “So if I don’t bring a guest I’m allowed backstage, but if I do then I’m not?”

“Yeah. We’re not big on people hanging out in the dressing room. We try to keep the number of guests small. But the boys know you. They won’t mind.”

“I dunno, Van,” You sigh, rubbing your temples. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Think about it, please,” He gives his final plea. “It’ll be a good time.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it, whatever,” You lie, only to get him off of your back.

“Okay. Miss you,” Van chirps.

“Miss you.” And then the call is over.

You fold your arms down on the table, nestling your head on top of them.

The thing is, Van always gets his way, doesn’t he?

If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be driving his Range Rover over to his house on Monday morning, your suitcase resting on its side in the backseat.

Van is not ready on time, forcing you to begrudgingly shut the car off and knock on his front door impatiently after waiting for him long enough.

“Sorry!” Van apologizes immediately as he swings the front door open. He’s bustling around in jeans, his belt looped through the waist but not buckled. He’s got socks on but no shoes, and he’s got a t-shirt rumpled around his neck. You’re not sure if he’s trying to wear it or take it off.

“You’re not even dressed!” You groan, as Van races around fussing with the items in his suitcases.

“One of my bags got lost on the flight over,” He explains. “So I’m trying to figure out what was in it and what’s missing.” He stands up straight, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Fuck.”

That’s a pretty good excuse, one you can’t be mad at him for. You sigh, softening. “That sucks.”

Van nods into his hands. When he lets them fall you can see how flushed his face is in frustration and decide to take pity on him.

“First things first,” You march over to him, getting your hands on his belt. “Get dressed.”

You buckle his belt and he sighs, tugging his arms into the shirt around his neck. You spot his usual boots resting by the front door. “Are you wearing those?”

He nods and you head over to the door, tossing them to Van. He slips them on and zips them up, tugging the cuffs of his jeans over them, and now he’s at least dressed.

Now you look around at the mess on the floor. “Do you have some sort of packing list?”

Van shrugs. “Not, like, written out, no. I pack all the time. I just kinda… do it.”

You don’t understand how anyone can mentally keep a packing list when it comes to packing your entire life away in preparation for months on the road. You reach for an unopened letter sitting on the table by the door. “Have a pen?”

Despite not having a list, Van has a pen within reach. He passes it over to you.

“Alright,” You sigh. “Let’s go through this step-by-step.”

After an hour and a half delay Van is significantly calmer, and mostly sure that he’s got everything he needs. The one thing that’s definitely been lost is his handful of adaptors so that his chargers work in America, so you have to stop off at Walmart before the drive can really begin so that he can buy some. Which works for you, considering you needed some drinks and snacks anyway.

You and Van separate as soon as you’re in the doors. You make a beeline for the food aisles while Van heads to find his adaptors.

Your assignment is pretty simple. Van doesn’t want any soft drinks, only water. But not just any water, he’d specified, but the largest water available. Considering that’s not sold in the coolers near the front where you grab a soft drink and an average sized water, you’re held up browsing for a bit. Eventually you find something that you hope he likes nestled amongst the two-liter bottles of juices and fruit punches and teas and any other sugary drink you could imagine. Then there’s snacks. Van wants Doritos, but you like a selection. You get yourself a smaller bag of potato chips, and some different boxes of movie theater candy from a different aisle. By the time you’re done, you’re sure he’s probably already searching for you.

Instead you find him still meandering around the tech area, all six feet of him clearly visible over the shelves.

“I can’t find them,” He mutters when you roll your squeaky shopping cart towards him. “I’ve checked everywhere.”

“Does this work?” You change the subject, lifting the water you’d gotten him. He nods, then goes back to scouring.

“Maybe they’re not over here,” You suggest after you’d abandoned the cart and conducted your own search without luck. “Is there a travel section?”

With that idea you follow Van as he heads for the luggage section.

You find the adaptors in the same aisle as the suitcases and duffle bags, along with other travel items you browse through curiously. There’s coolers as small as a shoe box and ice packs that will apparently stay frozen even in one-hundred degree heat. There’s sets of blankets and pillows rolled into packaging so tight you have no idea how you’d cram everything back in there. There’s a million different wallets that supposedly withstand every sort of natural disaster.

“This is so soft,” You gush as you’re squeezing each and every neck pillow. Van is still examining his adaptors, making sure he’s got exactly the right kind, but he does pause to reach out a hand and give the pillow you’ve held out to him a squish.

“That is soft,” He muses.

You pull it around your neck, rolling your head against it. “Oh my God, it feels so good,” You practically moan.

Van stands up straight, plucking one from the display for himself. “This is amazing,” He agrees, before tossing it in the cart. “I need a new one. You want one?”

You pause where you’re still happily hanging your head limply. “They’re forty dollars,” You point out.

Van only shrugs.

“I don’t need one,” You insist, taking yours off of your shoulders and setting it back on the hanger. “It’s fine.”

Van stares at you. You stare at him.

“I don’t really travel,” You say, putting your hands on the cart, ready to walk away.

As you start to roll away another neck pillow lands in the basket, rattling the things it lands on.

You snap your neck to look at Van, who’s grinning.

“You’re traveling right now, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes to avoid having to think too hard about him spending money on you. And with that you head for the cash register, Van lagging behind you.

It takes over an hour to feel like the drive has really started. Although you’re on the highway, you’re caught in morning rush hour with jammed exits and people refusing to even meet the minimum speed. You can tell it drives Van nuts, who drums his fingertips on the steering wheel impatiently, changes the radio stations obsessively, and switches lanes when there really isn’t enough space for the Range Rover to squeeze over. It feels like a regular drive until the traffic eventually falls away and you guys can really get going, finally speeding away from your homes and towards Arizona.

“So when is everyone else arriving?” You ask after there’s been a bout of focused silence as Van tries to gain some ground, staying quiet as the radio plays.

“I have no clue,” He shrugs. “They could be there already, I dunno.”

“You haven’t spoken to them?”

“Not about flights, no. We talked about the show and how we’re excited to be back in America. But that’s it really.”

You think this over, watching the blur of restaurants and gas stations fly by.

“Do you like shows in the U.K. or U.S. better?” You ask eventually.

“Like ‘em both.”

“Oh, c’mon,” You sigh, turning to look at him. “That’s such an interview answer. You have to have a preference.”

Van licks his lips. “I like playing arenas,” He shrugs. “Arenas are fun. Shows in the U.K. are massive.”

“But you think arenas are the best thing in the world, and you’ll never wanna do a show anywhere else again, and then we do a smaller room in America and it’s class. You connect with the audience in an arena, but you don’t feel like you’re connecting with every single person in the crowd like you do in a smaller room.” He continues, “I don’t care though. I just love playing. As long as there’s a stage I’m happy. It doesn’t even have to be a real stage. I can stand on a milk crate.”

You have to laugh at that. “Okay, whatever. Fine. Where do you prefer living, then?”

Van considers this for a moment. “I dunno.”

“Oh, let me guess, Mr. I-like-everything. You can’t choose.”

“I can’t!” Van laughs. “There’s so many factors that go into it. That’s too hard of a question. I’ll say, I loved New York though. Have you ever been?”

“For one weekend,” You recall. “It was for school. A weekend of workshops and lectures and stuff. I didn’t get to see much, though. There was too much I wanted to do and not enough time after sitting in the convention center all day.”

You realize Van must feel the same way. In beautiful cities with not enough time to explore them. “Doesn’t that happen to you on tour?”

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t seem very disappointed.”

“M’not, really. The most exciting thing about a place to me is usually the music. And when we’re there we’re the music. I do miss a museum or a shop once in a while that I wish I’d been to.”

You sigh. Sometimes it feels like you and Van couldn’t be more unalike. He never seemed to have any anxieties or regrets about anything. Everything rolled off of him but stuck to you like you were flypaper.

“What’s your biggest regret?” You ask him suddenly, sitting up straighter.

“What, are we playing twenty questions?” Van laughs. “Pass me my water, will you?”

His bottle is too big for the cup holders so it’s rolling around by your feet. You pick it up and uncap it for him, handing it over. “You’re the one who wanted to road trip. Are we supposed to drive in silence?”

You watch Van’s throat work as he swallows down his drink before handing it back over to you.

“We can talk,” He replies. “But you go first. What’s your biggest regret?”

You know your biggest regret. It’s the first thing that pops into your mind whenever the topic comes up.

You don’t speak right away, though. You look out the windshield at the sky instead, watching as the car passes under the giant, cotton ball clouds.

“Leaving home,” You finally admit. You fold your legs up, hugging your knees into your chest. It makes the seatbelt cut into the soft flesh of your stomach, but you barely notice. “I’ve never told anyone that, actually.”

Van keeps his eyes on the road. “Never?”

“Never.” You say quietly. “Just you.”

“Why?”

“Why haven’t I told anyone or why do I regret it?”

“Both.”

You take a deep breath and rest your head on your knees so that you’re gazing at Van.

“It was too impulsive. Eighteen is way too young to be leaving behind your entire support system. My girlfriend had a shitty family, and I get leaving when things are like that. Like, if you don’t have anyone, might as well leave and start the life you want. Nothing to lose, sure. But I left a lot behind. My parents aren’t perfect, duh, whose are, but they loved me.”

So many feelings have started to swell up in you. You don’t know how to put them into words, but Van stays quiet, so you try.

“And I never told anyone because… How could I? Things turned out okay, didn’t they? I have a degree from UCLA. How many high school seniors are dying for that acceptance letter? I rent a nice place in one of the most expensive cities to live in in the country. I’ve got a nice job. Nice friends. My parents are so proud of me. They brag about me to everyone. How I left home and did so amazing on my own. I could never tell them I’d do things differently. And you try to say this stuff to people like you, or Mary, and they take it as a personal offense like I wish I’d never met them, you know what I mean?”

Van chuckles, nodding in understanding.

“Sorry, I’m rambling.” You shake your head, wipe your hair out of your face. “I didn’t mean to make this a therapy session.”

“You did ask a pretty loaded question,” Van snorts. But he reaches one of his hands across the console, resting it blindly on your knee in a moment of comfort before bringing it back to the steering wheel. “So lemme ask this, though: Are you happy?”

“Am I happy? Hm. I would say so. Happier than the people I see living on the streets. Happier than the kids that get roped into gang violence every day.”

“So you enjoy your life?”

“I mean. Sure. It’s fine. Yeah. Things could be better, but I like it.”

Saying it outloud, you realize your answer doesn’t equate to being happy. Or enjoying your life. There’s no feeling of satisfaction with what you’ve accomplished. But at the same time, you were only 24. Isn’t this how your twenties go?

Van seems to realize the crack in your answer, but he doesn’t say anything. You’re eager to change the subject off of your existential crisis.

“So what’s your regret?”

“Hm. I don’t have, like, one big one I can pinpoint like yours. But I have a lot of small ones that have kind of… rolled up over time.”

Your heart sinks. Of course you’d just spilled your heart out to someone who’s regret is probably going to be that he didn’t wear more comfortable shoes to drive in. You remember the wine-drunk conversation you and Mary had when you were done taking pictures, when you’d told her how you don’t really know Van.

“You have to have regrets.” Your voice wavers. “Please tell me you have at least one regret in your life, that you weren’t just born a beaming ray of sunshine.”

Van cackles. “A beaming ray of sunshine? I am not! Of course I have regrets!”

“Well, I’m just saying,” You huff. “You’re so calm about everything. It drives me nuts sometimes. Like, is it all an act? Or do you genuinely breeze through life?”

“I don’t breeze through life. At all. I guess I was raised to… not take things so hard, I suppose. So when things are out of my control I do try and shake them off. But I have lots of things that bother me. I try not to dwell on them, that’s all.”

“Like what?”

“Well for starters, I get the same guilt at leaving home.” Van wags his finger at you. “So that’s something we share. I don’t regret it, I knew what I was doing and I wanted to leave my hometown and I’m happy I did. But I know my parents miss me. And considering how hard they tried to have me I do feel a bit bad we haven’t gotten to live together under the same roof since I was… Twenty? I think?”

At Van’s confession you exhale in relief. “They tried hard to have you? Did they miscarry?”

Van shakes his head. “No, my mum didn’t miscarry. She couldn’t miscarry because nothing would take. I think she would’ve rather miscarried and realized her body could at least make a baby than what was going on. Just… nothing. Doctors told her she was barren.”

“And then… Bam? You?”

“Nah. Not even close. She was hit by a car when she was younger, you see. So there was some internal damage. Everyone tried to convince her just to adopt but she wouldn’t do it. Her and my dad tried IVF. They did two rounds, nothing. It was costing them everything. And breaking my mum’s heart. They saved up for one more round. And… here comes me.”

“Bam, you.” You repeat in awe. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone born that way. I don’t even know anyone who’s adopted.”

Van seems happy to tell the story of his conception. “It’s mental to think about, isn’t it?” He changes gears, getting back on topic. “But see, they worked so hard to have me, and then I up ‘n left ‘em. But they’re so proud. It is sad, though.”

“That is kinda sad,” You frown. “What else?”

Van sighs. “I have a ton of, like, love regrets. There’s been a lot of relationships where the thing that really went wrong was just me being young and not putting in enough effort. So I guess all of those. Not trying harder. Leaving someone you love at home while you go tour is tough already, let alone me being a right prick and not bothering to call or text or any of that.”

“Oh, Lord. So you’re saying you were the boyfriend who wouldn’t speak to you for days until you’re wondering if you’re even dating anymore.”

Van winces. “Yeah. I did try, I didn’t think I was that bad! Time differences are hard. Finding time to call in the beginning when it was pushing the band from sun up to sun down was hard. But I could’ve done it if I’d made more of an effort. I’d forget birthdays, that sort of thing. I lost girlfriends I really saw a future with. Which fucking sucks. I know I broke their hearts. I wasn’t out to do that to anyone. I regret that.”

Van’s answer satisfies you. You unfold your legs, resting back in your seat. “And are you happy?”

“I’m very happy,” Van replies immediately. “I love my life. I love the band. I love waking up everyday and getting to do this as my job. Doesn’t mean I don’t hit hard times. And I always grew up around a lotta love. My mum and dad were very in love. Still are. So when I’m single I do tend to feel like I’m missing out on something.”

You don’t have a response for him. You still reach out, same as he did for you, and give his knee a squeeze. He smiles.

You guys give your heart-to-heart conversations a rest, instead taking some quiet time as you approach the Arizona border. You munch on your snacks and feed Van some of his when he asks, and you two take turns deciding what radio station to listen to.

As Arizona approaches so does a thick blanket of clouds, successfully blocking your view of the brilliant blue sky. Eventually you’re caught in a drizzle. You enjoy watching the rain soak the desert, a strange sight you’ve never considered before.

The longer Van drives, the thicker the clouds get. What had started as a thin blanket of light gray clouds with sun peeking through starts to become a more dense, charcoal covered sky, the rain starting to pound.

You persist on your journey as long as you can, windshield wipers whipping away the droplets, but eventually it’s too hard for Van to see. The rain pours down the windows like a curtain, the wipers only creating ripples through the thick layer of water. Cars less suited for the road conditions have veered off to the side, waiting the worst of the storm out. You and Van decide to do the same, pulling into the first rest stop that appears.

You guys had needed a break, anyway. It feels good to stretch your legs out as you and Van gallop into the building and out of the buckets of rain. Other drivers have had the same idea, and inside is peppered with damp people looking for a place away from the storm.

You use the restroom and pick through the pamphlets about everything Arizona has to offer until Van sneaks up behind you.

“Reading something interesting?” He spooks you, making you jump.

“Yeah, look. Have you ever heard of these guys? They’re playing in Phoenix tomorrow.”

Inside one of the tourist booklets is an event schedule. One of the pages is dedicated to Catfish and the Bottlemen, decorated with a dramatic black and white picture of the band and featuring their notorious toucan. You flash the page at Van, who laughs.

“Nobody’s gonna go after seeing my ugly face.” He tries to slip the book through your fingers, but you hold tighter. “C’mon, I need a smoke.”

“I’m keeping this,” You insist, clinging to it tightly. “It’s a souvenir.”

You sprint back to the car with him, trying to keep the book dry. An impossible task, but you hope once the pages air dry it’ll be salvageable. You set it aside on the dashboard, where the vent can blow on it.

Van cracks the window, letting in an obnoxious amount of rainwater as he smokes.

“I’m freezing,” You shudder, soaked to the bone. “Can we turn the heat on?”

Van obliges, but the air still feels cold when it hits your damp skin. Your clothes and hair are soaked, sticking to your skin. You’re glad you hadn’t bothered to put any effort into your appearance.

Between puffs of his cigarette you can see Van looking over at you as you scroll through your phone. It becomes so obvious that eventually you catch him in the act.

“Why are you looking at me?” You ask. Van smiles, so you smile nervously back. “I get it, I look crazy. Leave me alone!”

You flip down the overhead mirror, looking for whatever flaw Van is obviously obsessed with staring at. Your hair is completely parted wrong, somehow both wet and frizzy at the same time. “Is it my hair? Do I have something in my teeth?” You check your teeth in the mirror but they pass the inspection. You flip the mirror back up, looking at Van expectantly.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Van brushes you off, ashing his cigarette out of the crack in the window.

“Something’s wrong. You’re making me self conscious.”

“I’m not trying to make you self conscious. Sorry. It’s nothing.”

You jump on his phrasing. “What is it?”

Van lets his cigarette go out of the window before rolling it up. The space is much quieter without having to hear the rain hit the cement at full volume. “Nothing!”

His eyes are on you again and you squirm, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Stop staring at me, then!” You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering.

“I mean,” Van sighs, exasperated. “Look at you!”

You look down at yourself then, and understand. You were wearing a white shirt, which has now dissolved into a transparent layer with the rain. You were practically sitting there naked. The thin bralette you have on underneath is clearly visible, and unable to conceal your nipples that are rock hard from the cold.

“You’re fit. That’s all I was thinking,” Van mutters.

Your cheeks heat up in realization. “Oh.”

Van looks away, fussing with the settings on the different vents to look busy. Now that he’s admitted his desire the air in the car feels thick with it. Your heart is pounding while your mind buzzes.

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” You mention quietly as the rain roars louder outside.

“Yeah. I just checked the weather and it’s supposed to pass over soon. This is the worst of it.”

You nod, still not looking at Van. You watch the water wash over the glass, obscuring your view of the outside. Surely nobody else can see, either. Not to mention the dark tint on the windows.

“I’m gonna change my shirt.” You try for breezy, but you know your voice always betrays your nerves. You look over at him. “You should get in the back and change, too.”

Van’s head snaps to meet your gaze, his eyes dark. He searches your face, clearly trying to decipher if you’re suggesting what he thinks you are. You raise your eyebrows in response, and reach over to click your door unlocked.

“You coming?” You ask him, before swinging the passenger door open and jumping out, trying to clamor into the backseat as fast as humanly possible. You shriek as you’re hit with a fresh douse of icy rain, tugging urgently at the handle. Van opens his door to the back bench at the same time, and the two of you are confronted with the luggage blocking your way. In the pouring rain you both scramble to toss it in the back before climbing in.

No sooner are you drenching the leather seats than Van has his hands on you, guiding you both into a soppy kiss. Your teeth chatter behind your lips and Van is breathing harshly from the shock to his system.

Your only relief is to shed your cold clothes. You get your hands under Van’s shirt, peeling the layer away. He does the same to yours, but struggles with your bralette. You take care of that for him, your chest completely broken out in goosebumps and your nipples unbearably sensitive.

Van’s in charge of peeling away his own boots.

“Is there a condom in your wallet?” You ask while he does that, reaching over the console for the cup holder where his leather wallet is.

“Yeah.”

You open it up, peering curiously in the compartments. “Where?”

“Right there with the cash.”

“There’s none in here.”

Van sighs in frustration, pausing after he undoes his belt to look himself. But you’re right. There’s none in there. “What?” He breathes in frustration, checking again. Still nothing. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

He closes the wallet, tossing it carelessly back up front. “Anyway, there’s some in my suitcase.”

You lean over the seats into the trunk. “What bag?”

“The black one.”

“They’re all black.”

“The one… fuck!” Van runs his hands through his hair. “The one that got lost at the airport.”

You sink into a sitting position, unsure of what to say.

“Do you have any?” Van asks you, his eyes pleading.

You shake your head. “You always have some.”

The mood is slowly starting to disintegrate as you two wrack your brains.

“You didn’t grab any at Walmart?” You ask hopefully.

It’s Van’s turn to shake his head. “I thought I had enough.”

You slump against your seat. “Do you think they sell any in there? They had that vending machine with the Tylenol and stuff.” You hadn’t seen any condoms, but then again you hadn’t particularly been looking.

Van perks up at that. “I think they have a machine in the men’s room.”

“...What?”

“What?”

You both stare at each other curiously. “A machine?”

Van nods. “Yeah. You put the quarter in and twist, ya know?”

“Like a tampon dispenser?”

Van shrugs. “Never seen one.”

You gesture. “Like a box on the wall?”

“Yeah!”

This information blows your mind, but you reach down on the floor and retrieve Van’s soaked shirt. “Go get one!”

Van groans, but obliges. He’s a rumpled mess when he exists the car, and you notice as he jogs away his belt is still undone.

While you sit there alone you finish undressing yourself. When that’s done you peruse the trunk, tugging out a throw blanket you’d packed and wrapping it around yourself for some coverage.

You see Van the second he bursts through the building doors, condom clearly in hand.

“Got one?” You ask when he hops back into the car, even though he clearly does.

“Yeah. Trojans, too.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Yeah,” Van grins. “There was a lad at the urinal having a right laugh at me. Standing there in my socks with my belt undone.”

You grin at the image. “What’d you say?”

“What could I say? I just laughed with him.”

He’s got a second condom that he sets aside. “There’s one for my wallet. I can grab some more in Phoenix.”

He struggles to kick his jeans off and then adds his shirt and socks to the sopping puddle of fabric on the floor. Finally you’re both naked.

“You’re gonna have to warm me up,” Van says, reaching for you. “I’m way too cold to get wrapped.”

He tugs you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him. The throw blanket around your shoulders encompasses you both, managing to create a space where your combined body heat can warm you up. You get a slow grind going against Van’s clammy thighs.

It’s a strange position to be in, sitting upright chest to chest. Every time you move your nipples rub against his chest hair, the sensitivity making you wince.

Van notices, his palms moving from your sides to roughly cup your breasts. His fingers are cold but his palms are warm, an instant relief against your nipples.

“That feels so good,” You tell him. “Blow into your hands.”

He does as he’s told, heating his palms up with hot air and rubbing them together before he cups you again, helping you warm up. You return the favor by breathing your hot breath down his neck, making him shiver.

“You’re so fit,” Van murmurs when you push the wet hair out of his face, tipping his head back to kiss him. “I don’t think I tell you enough.”

“Stop,” You groan quietly, forever uncomfortable taking even the slightest compliment. “You are too. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“There’s no credit to be given,” Van insists. In retaliation you bite down on his shoulder, making him jump.

Van lets a hand drop from your chest, easing around to touch you for some foreplay. He goes between your legs from behind, the brush of his fingertips making you startle.

“Easy, easy,” Van reassures you as he gently explores. But it’s like an ice cube pressing against you, and you cringe away.

“Quit, you’re so cold.” You tell him. “Like an icicle touching me.”

Van pulls away, bringing his fingers between your bodies. “Do you want me to do the honors?” He asks.

But you grab his wrist, guiding his two fingers into your mouth. You feel his dick jump against your thigh as you take them as deep as they can go, making a real show out of it.

“Oh, Christ,” Van groans, tipping his head back. “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

You stop sucking with a sloppy noise, leaving him to guide his fingers back between your legs. Now that they’re warm the sensation is pleasant, and he eases them inside of you easily. It’s good, but highlights the ache of his absence more vividly.

“How are you doing?” You ask against his neck as you’re in the middle of pushing back against the pressure of his fingers. You slip a hand between his legs to feel for yourself. He throbs in your palm.

“Good,” He says, voice strained. “Making sure you’re coming along.” He slips his fingers out of you, spreading the wetness on his knuckles over your clit before rubbing in his usual circles.

Something about him considering your pleasure tugs at your heart. You bury your head in his neck, breathing his scent in while you try to push away the strange rush. “Van,” You breathe, but he understands, pulling his fingers away and reaching for the condom.

You have to shift your weight around to give him enough space, but then he’s ready. There’s a shared desperation as you guide him into you, both of you groping for the other, panting and kissing and groaning as you wiggle in his lap.

It’s physically the closest you’ve ever been to someone during sex. You’ve never been in this position, chest to chest with someone while they’re inside of you. The added tight space of the car means that no sound is lost as you two get going. And nothing feels the same as the first time after Van’s been away. You two have finally warmed up, and in this moment everything feels intense and perfect.

Van seems to feel the same, his eyes practically rolling back into his head every time you bounce against him. When he tips his head back in overwhelm you lunge forward, kissing down the column of his throat. You can feel his moan vibrating against your lips.

There’s no words exchanged as you fuck him. Anything that needs to be communicated is done through sharp breaths, groans, his fingertips digging into your sides, your hands in his hair, your teeth grazing each other’s skin, your mouths clashing together. The way your thighs shake and his stomach clenches.

“Let’s flip,” are the first words, uttered quietly by Van.

“No,” You pant. “I’m not going through that hassle.” There was no way Van was going to steal this moment from you. Your whole body was on fire with how incredible everything felt. No way in hell was he going to convince you to let him be in control. No fucking way.

Van whines in disagreement, pouting. You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging hard. A raw noise escapes his lips as you hold his head tightly.

“I am so fucking close,” You pant, speeding up against his thighs for emphasis. “And I know you are too. So chill out, Van.”

When you say his name his eyelids flutter closed, relaxing more fully into the grip of your hand.

You hold him there for a bit longer, loving the access to the underside of his jaw. When you release him he stays put.

Your orgasm comes unexpectedly, something that rarely happens. As soon as you feel the tight tension between your legs Van seems to sense it, too, snapping his eyes open. He sits up straight, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest as you tremble through it, crying out. He squeezes you a bit tighter as you ride the wave of your climax, and loosens his arms as you whimper through the aftershocks. It doesn’t take him too long after, and you cup his jaw in your hands, carefully watching the way his freckles shift as his face scrunches up. Oh how you’ve missed watching him come. You kiss him when it’s over.

When everything is said and done you climb off of him, tugging the blanket tighter around you. All of the windows are completely steamed over, windshield included. You’re trembling head to toe even though you’re not cold.

Van ties off the condom but has no choice but to set it gingerly in one of the backseat cup holders. “Don’t let me forget that,” He tells you.

When he meets your gaze you’re sure he’s mirroring your expression. Something about the encounter has you feeling like an exposed nerve. The intensity of the experience makes your stomach hurt. You’ve got that deep feeling in your bones you get from incredible sex. That feeling when you know that was a moment that exceeds others, a moment you’ll always remember.

“Have I told you I missed you?” Van asks quietly. You wonder if his stomach aches like yours.

“Not yet,” You whisper.

“I fucking missed you,” Van says, getting up on his knees to start searching around for some dry clothes. He struggles to unzip a bag before handing you one of his hoodies. The scent of his laundry detergent as you tug it over your head makes you feel dizzy.

“I missed you,” You tell him, sitting up to dig around in your own bags.

Hours later you finally pull up at the hotel. You feel sorely out of place standing at the front desk next to Van, with your sweats and flip flops and rain damp hair. You’re swimming in Van’s hoodie, the cuffs of the arms hanging longer than your hands, and you fuss with your sleeves as Van speaks to the concierge. Everything is glossy marble and shiny brass accents, rich fabrics. The people look important, dressed in business attire. Van doesn’t look like he belongs either, but he’s so charming you don’t think anyone realizes it.

On your way to the elevators you only pray that you don’t see any of the other boys in your present state.

“Do you know if anyone else is here?” You ask when you and Van are the only ones in the elevator. It’s hard for you to believe it’s only 5pm. This day feels like it’s been eternal, and you’re exhausted.

“Dunno,” Van yawns. “Bob might be. Benji and Bondy usually don’t fly early if they can help it.”

You follow Van down the hall to your assigned room. Someone from the crew is headed to unload the car and bring Van’s bags up here, but you’d felt too awkward to take advantage of that, rolling your suitcase behind you.

It’s a nice room with two beds, a large bathroom and kitchenette, and a small cement balcony with a decent view of the city. There’s a gift basket on the desk like there had been in San Diego.

“Do you always get gift baskets?” You ask, poking around to see what he’s been given.

“Most of the time,” Van says, looking through it with you. “I mean, having a whole touring crew stay in your hotel is a lot of business. So they’re usually eager to make a good impression.”

That makes sense. You continue to look around. You want to open up your suitcase on the second bed, but you’re not sure if Van wants you two to sleep separately. You’ve never been in a situation where you had the option not to share one bed. Maybe he wants some space.

You awkwardly leave your bag standing in the middle of the floor while you poke around the kitchenette.

“What are you supposed to do with this?” You ask, lifting up the kettle on the small counter. There’s no stovetop where you’d be able to boil water in it, and there’s an electric cord attached to it.

“Um…” Van look at you quizzically. “Make tea?”

“But there’s no stove to heat it.”

“It’s electric.” Van gestures loosely at the kettle. “You fill it, plug it in.”

“Is this the hotel’s?”

“No. We each have one. The team leaves it for us.”

You continue to gape at it in amazement. You’ve never heard of an electric kettle.

“You’re so American it kills me,” Van shakes his head. There’s a knock at the door, and he rushes to retrieve his bags. He thanks whoever brought them up graciously before hauling them onto the bed closest to the door. That settled the bed situation, then.

You don’t know how you expected the rest of the evening to go, but you’re surprised at how mundane it is. You shower in preparation for tomorrow and half-heartedly blowdry your hair so that it wouldn’t soak your pillow. When you’re done with your shower Van places a room service order for dinner, and afterwards you two laze on the bed, watching whatever random movie is playing on the TV. Eventually you feel yourself dozing off even though it’s only eight, and snuggle up for an early night. The last thing you remember is Van telling you that Bondy had just arrived and he was going to his room for a smoke before you doze off.

You wake up to an empty bed, disoriented that you’re not at home and confused about what time it is. All of the blackout curtains are drawn but sunlight still manages to seep underneath them, illuminating the windowsill and a square of the carpet by the balcony doors.

You check your phone for any texts from Van, but there are none. You’ve slept later than usual, probably thanks to the blackout curtains, and you’re surprised to see it’s nearing noon. You take your sweet time climbing out of bed and meandering over to the kitchenette to fuck with the coffee maker.

It’s only as you’re reading the laminated instructions the hotel’s left on the counter that you hear Van’s voice, muffled through the glass doors. From where you’re standing you can see a sliver of him through the curtains, shuffling around on the balcony. You wonder who he’s outside with, and why he’d brought someone through the room while you were sleeping instead of just going to their room.

“Yeah…” You hear him say, straining to hear as you fill the machine with water from the tap. “Right. Right.”

You can only hear Van’s voice, and not whoever he’s replying to.

“Maybe. We’ll see. We’ll see, alright?”

You’re unable to hear as the machine gets going with a hiss, making a racket as it heats the water you’ve added and runs it through the grounds in the filter. The noise of it filling the styrofoam cup you’ve put under the machine is even worse, a loud trickle that feels like it takes forever to fill the cup.

There’s a shift in the shadows as Van stands up, and you can hear him pace.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” He laughs, and you realize he’s on the phone. With a sinking feeling it occurs to you that he could easily be talking to another girl. Does he do this same thing to her? Sneak away for phone calls with you?

You have to add an obscene amount of sugar packets to your coffee in order to make it slightly drinkable. You hope Van doesn’t take sugar in his tea, because there’s not much left for him. But judging by the way the kettle has a light on, it seems like he’s already made himself some.

You don’t know what comes over you, but the more you think about Van talking to another girl while you vigorously stir your coffee, the angrier it makes you. Sure you’re not exclusive with him, but at the very least he could have some basic decency and not call them directly after sharing a bed with you. Not to mention he hadn’t even bothered to leave the room, really. Only a thin set of doors kept you and this other girl from knowing about each other. Because really, who else would he be calling? Anyone he could possibly want to speak to is only a room away.

It’s this unexpected anger that carries your feet to the doors before you step out on the patio. You’d expected to startle Van, but that’s an unrealistic goal. He’s got his back to you, one hand holding his phone to his ear and the other wrapped around his mug of tea. He nods to you in acknowledgement before taking a sip of his drink.

“That’s fucking annoying,” He agrees into the phone. “I’d be fuming.”

The mystery person talks for a bit longer, Van humming along in agreement before he speaks again.

“I’ll call you later,” He says, “Someone needs me.” The other person seems to put up a fuss, because he continues with, “Soon! Soon! I know. Okay.”

There are a few more okay’s and platitudes before he finishes the call with a warm I love you that has you digging your fingernails into your palm.

When Van hangs up he’s quiet. It’s not your place to ask who it was, a fact you have to chant to yourself in your mind like a mantra to keep the question from rolling off your tongue.

“They can talk forever, me mum ‘n dad,” Van says finally, turning so that he’s facing you.

You feel the blood drain out of your face as you realize who he’d been speaking to. You try to keep your expression neutral as your irrational anger drops away.

“Talking about them yesterday with you reminded me to give them a call. I was long overdue. They get so excited to hear what I’m up to.”

You sip your coffee. “You don’t text them?” You rarely called your parents. Texting was your primary way of keeping up with them, along with the occasional facetime.

“Sometimes. But they don’t really get texting. They like to pass the phone back and forth so they can both talk to me.” He grins as he explains this. “They love The Balance. Everytime I talk to them they’ve got a new favorite.”

You smile at that. “They love The Balance?”

“Yeah. They love everything we’ve done. They’ve always got the band playing. They play it when I’m not around, tellin’ everyone oh that’s my son, you know.” He lights up as he talks about them, sitting down on the wire chair next to the one you’ve settled into.

“That’s cool. That they support you like that. It’s one thing for them to be proud but it’s not their kind of music,” You say. “But for them to love it… That’s cute.”

“It is,” Van nods. “The only thing I hate is that they start getting on my back about who they’re about.” He shakes his head. “When 7 came out my mum was like, ‘I really like that song, Van. But who are you not calling back?’”

You laugh at that, and Van joins in.

“Do you tell them?” You ask when the laughter’s died down.

Van shrugs. “Depends. They’re my best mates so usually they have a pretty good idea before they even ask.”

The conversation dies down as you think about what Van’s said. It must be strange to have your parents listening to your songs so intently, like having them read your journal, but Van doesn’t seem to mind. Something about his close relationship with his parents sits warm in your stomach with your coffee.

“So…” You speak up eventually, “How do days like this go?”

“Oh, right. I’ve got your pass, by the way. You have to remind me to grab it.”

Just as Van explained, a few hours later the band is rounded up into a car before being escorted to the venue, where you’ll spend the rest of the day. After the initial arrival- with someone from the venue giving a quick tour of where everything is- everyone is left to their own devices, lounging around backstage until soundcheck, which you watch from side stage.

It’s more laid back than you’d thought. The band spends a lot of the time laughing with each other, telling jokes into their microphones in between requests for their instruments to be tweaked. Their guitar tech, Van’s childhood best friend Larry who you’d been introduced to today, jokingly stomps around as if their requests are the bane of his existence. They only play a few songs all the way through, and then apparently that’s the end of it and they’re ready for the show later.

After soundcheck everyone digs into the catered lunch. You’d been expecting some run-of-the-mill cafeteria type food, but instead it’s home cooked food that tastes incredible. Well, the mac and cheese tastes incredible. You shy away from most of the menu considering it’s mostly British foods you weren’t familiar with. But if the amount the boys eat is any indication, it must be amazing.

Afterwards everyone is laying around in the dressing room, with Bondy playing some eclectic music through a bluetooth speaker. You try to come across as relaxed, but truthfully you’re anything but. Van wasn’t kidding when he said they didn’t like guests. There’s no other guests besides you. You’re the odd one out keeping to yourself as they sing along to songs you don’t know and take frequent smoke breaks you’re too awkward to join. Everything is strange, and unfamiliar, and you’re so worried about disrupting any of their pre-show routine that you basically sit on your phone most of the time, taking occasional moments to laugh along politely so you don’t seem like you’re having a bad time. You’re so tense from it all that your neck aches.

The door to the hall is open, a steady flow of people passing the doorway. You’d overheard someone announce that the opening act had just arrived, and the volume of people bustling around was increasing with a second band in the venue. Somewhere in the chaos a little boy suddenly meanders into the dressing room.

He looks to be about three years old, blinking around at the band in shock.

“Hi, lad,” Bondy says. The boy stares at him, speechless, eliciting a laugh from everyone.

“Whatcha doin’?” Van asks. He’d been sprawled out on the loveseat while you’d been tightly bunched against the armrest, but at the arrival of this guest he suddenly slides off of the cushions, sitting down on the floor. He waves.

The little boy waves back, still looking like a deer in headlights.

“Aw, Charlie,” Van pouts. “You’re just gonna stand there?”

You assume the boy’s name is Charlie, because when Van says it the boy giggles, starting to toddle towards where Van’s sitting on the floor. Van stretches his arms out, snatching Charlie up when he’s close enough and plopping him into his lap. Charlie shrieks in amusement.

A middle aged man enters the room, relieved to see the two of them on the floor.

“Scares the shit out of me when he does that,” The guy shakes his head. As he approaches, Charlie stands up on Van’s thigh, throwing his chubby arms around Van’s neck and squealing, a clear indicator he does not want to go.

“Oi, oi,” Van winces, untangling the toddler from around his neck.

“He misses you,” The man laughs. “I could see him looking for you all day, like-” He widens his eyes, imitating a deer-in-headlights expression.

“You miss me?” Van asks, dramatically placing a hand on his heart and looking to Charlie for confirmation. Charlie doesn’t give one, but he giggles.

“Want me to watch him for a bit?” Van asks, shifting Charlie’s weight when he stands directly in his line of vision.

“You don’t have to,” The guy insists.

“Are you kidding?” Van scoffs playfully, before tickling Charlie. “I love hanging out with him! We have fun, right lad?” There’s the ear-piercing burst of baby giggles.

“Alright. When he starts annoying you just bring him back.”

“Annoying me!” Van laughs, eliciting another fit of giggles. “He could never!”

The man leaves the room, and Van nudges your knee from his spot on the floor.

“Come have a smoke with me,” He says before getting up from the floor and hoisting the toddler onto his hip.

You’re shocked when he doesn’t ask any of the other boys along. You get up from the loveseat awkwardly, walking with Van out into the busy hall and following him towards the back door.

“Dave’s one of our lighting guys,” He explains without being asked. “Brings his wife and Charlie out on the road with him.”

“Aw,” You say, offering a friendly smile to Charlie as he gazes at you from where his head is happily resting against Van’s shoulder. He’s got wide brown eyes, dark hair, and dried chocolate around his mouth.

“Yeah. I’ve known Mr. Charles here since they used to haul him around in a sling.”

“I can tell,” You reply. Despite Charlie’s initial shock at wandering into their dressing room, it’s clear he’s comfortable with Van.

Van leads you through the back door. You step out into the back parking lot for the venue, where there’s two large busses parked and a large team of people unloading them.

There’s a man and a woman smoking against the building, and they light up when they see Van.

“You want down?” He asks Charlie, and when he nods Van lets him down on the cement.

“Vaaan,” The woman, who looks older than both of you, greets him. She immediately reaches out for a hug that Van returns enthusiastically, kissing his cheek as she pulls away. The man hugs him, too.

You’re interrupted from watching their greeting by a tug on the hem of your shirt.

“Ball!” Charlie exclaims, and points. You look in the direction he’s pointing in to see a soccer ball jammed between the building and a parking block. There’s nobody using it, so you decide to wander away from the conversation, Charlie following after you eagerly as you pick it up.

“Wanna play?” You ask him, because at this point hanging out with a toddler is better than standing around awkwardly. Charlie nods, clapping with joy.

“Alright…” You hum. The parking lot isn’t ideal, since the cement is hot from baking in the sun and people are moving equipment. You spot a patch of grass. “Let’s play over there.”

“Me and Charlie are going to play ball,” You let Van know as you walk by. He nods, but you’re not sure if he really hears you.

The two of you make it to the strip of grass. Charlie doesn’t look like he’s very steady on his feet, so you sit down, and instruct him to do the same a little ways away. You roll the ball to him with your hands, and he catches on instantly, overjoyed to have someone to play with.

It’s calming to be in the presence of someone too young to judge you. After a long day of worrying about what everyone must be thinking of you, rolling a ball peacefully in the grass is therapeutic. Charlie takes care of the conversation, babbling about the grass and how hot it is and his favorite color (orange).

You don’t know when Van joins you, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes later.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, sitting down in the grass with you two. “I got caught up. That’s the opening act, haven’t seen them in a couple years.”

“That’s okay,” You tell him, even though you’re slightly annoyed at feeling excluded. “We’re having a good time over here.”

“I see that. You want a smoke?”

You pluck one out of his box he offers. He tosses you the lighter.

You’re so distracted lighting your cigarette that when Charlie rolls the ball to you it bounces over your shin.

“Hey,” You tell him, pretending to be upset. “You’re too good!”

“Look at you, superstar,” Van marvels, and Charlie glows with both of your praise.

Van gets his own cigarette lit before shuffling so that he’s sitting closer to you. “Are we boring the fuck out of you?”

“No, why?” The question is so random it makes you panic. Had your anxiety been coming off rudely?

“Only asking. A lot of people think these kinda things are so exciting and then once they’re a guest once they hate it.”

“It’s not boring. It’s… weird.”

“Yeah?” Van is purposely turning his head to exhale, making sure the breeze doesn’t carry his smoke straight at Charlie. “How so?”

“I dunno. I’ve never really thought about what bands do before their shows. But if you do take a second to think about it, you don’t really imagine they’re eating catering and babysitting the lighting guy’s toddler.”

Van laughs at that. “Right, right. Fair enough.”

“But I like it. I’d rather do this than watch you pop a handful of pills.” You shrug.

“Oi, pills. Mum would kill me.”

“Vah! Vah!” You’re both pulled out of your bubble by Charlie.

“What, lad?” Van asks.

“Wait, he knows your name?” You gape at Van in surprise.

Charlie rolls the ball to Van, who rolls it back. “He does,” He grins. “I’m ‘Vah’, and Bob, Bondy, and Benji are ‘Bah’.”

“And get this,” Van returns the ball so his hands are free to pluck his cigarette from his mouth. “What’s my band called, Charlie?”

“Cat-sh!” He misses the middle syllable.

“That’s insane,” You murmur in awe.

“It is. I remember when Jess was pregnant. And now there’s a whole human in front of me! It’s hard to wrap your head around.”

You agree, silently pondering the miracle of life.

“And he’s such a champ on the road. Great on planes and long car rides. I hope my kid is as good about traveling as him.”

At that you perk up. “You want kids?”

“Oh yeah,” Van nods. “Love ‘em. Can’t wait to have my own little boy.”

You snort at that. “And what if you have a girl?”

Van winks. “Just something to work at, innit?”

Charlie is tired of rolling the ball, deciding instead playing his own game where he picks the ball up in both of his arms, drops it, and picks it up again.

“How old are you again?” You ask him.

“Be 27 in August.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“It’s my gate code! First of August.”

When he says that you have the epiphany. “That’s what your gate code is? I thought it stood for January eighth!”

“Christ!” Van sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the grass. “You Americans and your weird dates!”

“Oh, quit.” You lightly kick at his outstretched leg. “For someone who hates America so much, you sure do spend a lot of time here.”

Van props himself up on an elbow, checking his phone. He smirks. “I like the people.”

Before you’re able to ask what that means, he starts standing up.

“It’s showtime soon. We should head back in.”

He helps you off of the grass before gathering Charlie up in his arms and heading to return him to Dave.

The dressing room has a television where you’re able to watch the show. You watch the opening act with the boys, their energy becoming more frantic as it gets closer to nine. Bob has a quiet, focused sort of energy, Benji seems indifferent, but Van and Bondy amp each other up, singing along to the set and pacing around the room.

When the lights go down and the crew is changing out the instruments, you follow the boys to a different area backstage, where everything starts to feel real. You hang around Van as someone from the team sets up his in-ears, feeding the wires underneath his shirt and through the collar of his button up, clipping the battery pack onto the waistband of his jeans. Van’s already stepped away a little bit ago to do a full vocal warm up with his coach, but she’s there again with him to do some last minute exercises. He doesn’t have any reservations about doing them in front of you, and it shouldn’t surprise you but it does. He imitates back whatever strange noise she makes with an extreme seriousness.

You can tell his head’s in a different place by the time he’s only a few minutes away from being in front of the crowd. He shifts his weight from foot to foot restlessly. You stay quiet, unsure of this new Van.

“I’ll meet you in the dressing room after this,” He says. You nod, even though it wasn’t a question.

Suddenly his hand is on your back, one side of his mouth quirking up. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, relieved at the crack in his intensity. “I’ve never seen you so serious. Don’t wanna mess you up.”

“You, mess me up? Nah,” He pats your back before dropping his hand.

The screams grow louder, the lighting changes.

“That’s my cue.” Van gives a quick wave before he’s ushered on stage. One by one the boys file out, the screams growing with each member.

Once they’re out there, the opening notes of Longshot starting up, you wander back to the dressing room, deciding to watch the show from the comfort of the couch.

You’d been worried that watching Van perform through a screen wouldn’t feel the same as when you’d seen him from the crowd back home, but that wasn’t the case. Something about the performance feels even more intoxicating than the first time.

You shut the door to the hall, eager to have some personal space. This is your first time having a moment alone in two days, and you desperately needed to sort through your thoughts.

As much as you’re entranced by the music, your mind tugs you elsewhere. You replay everything you’ve learned about Van on this short trip: His favorite road trip snacks, his relationship regrets, how close he is with his parents, how he wants to be a father. While watching him become progressively sweatier from singing his lungs out you think of how he’d been there for you after your accident, how he’d never even asked after the Range Rover. You think back to what Mary had said. He acts like he loves you.

You don’t know about that. But what you do know is you haven’t felt like yourself since that steamy moment at the rest stop. That dizzy, hazy feeling has clung to you like a fog all day. Not only did you not feel like yourself, you weren’t acting like yourself. You’d been so angry this morning, working yourself up when he’d only been on a phone call with his parents. And as much as you’d never admit it, for some reason you couldn’t stand being around the rest of the band today. You yearned for alone time with him and resented sharing him with anyone.

You’re interrupted from your train of thought by Van’s line in Pacifier ringing through the room: She said it’s you I detest!

He can’t contain his smile as he leans towards the crowd, smirking as he continues: I said c’mon, love, you’re upset.

The crowd goes wild at his amended line, screaming it right back at him. Something about the way he’s got the whole room in the palm of his hand makes your insides fizz. You’re in awe of how magic he is yet so confused by everything going on inside of you. It feels like your heart swells as you watch him, his passion contagious. It’s like he’s managed to transmit his joy of performing into everyone around him, yourself included. Your body buzzes with it and you wish suddenly you could be jumping around in the crowd with everyone else.

It’s in that moment, your legs practically twitching with the desire to move along to the beat, that all the fog clears. There’s no more confusion over how you feel. It’s crystal clear why you haven’t been acting like yourself. All of the pieces click into place.

The relief of understanding washes over you, settling into your bones and resting in the deepest part of your gut. You actually laugh out loud to yourself as the realization hits you, because of course. Of course.

You were completely- no doubt about it- in love with Van McCann.

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann fic #van mccann fanfiction #vanfic #catb #catb fic

25 notes · View notes

vintage-story-time · 3 years

Text

MANHATTAN MADNESS by Chili Peeler

Chapter 1

Jim Andrews stared through the window of the plane as it came in for a landing at LaGuardia. He had never seen anything as impressive as the island of Manhattan; it looked like every square inch of the island was filled with a skyscraper. At 17 years of age, the biggest city he had ever been to had been Des Moines. When his sister, Elizabeth, had written to him and asked him if he wanted to come visit her, he'd jumped at the chance. He felt the same urge as Elizabeth had; to get out of the backwater burg his family lived in back in eastern Nebraska. He admired the way Elizabeth had just tore out one night, leaving a note for their parents that she was going to travel and see what else was out there in the world. That had been 3 years ago and no one in the family had seen her since. Occasionally a postcard would come, addressed to him, from different cities around the country. Chicago, New Orleans, Dallas......but never with a return address. Then, a few weeks ago, a letter. And then a week later, a round trip ticket from Topeka.

The plane was coming in low now over the Long Island Sound. He'd studied a map in the family Encyclopedia Britannia; probably outdated but he doubted they had changed the name of the Sound. He looked over again at Manhattan, still not believing his sister had made it this far from home. Jim came out of the airplane entrance ramp, walking in the midst of other passengers. He moved forward, swinging his head from side to side, looking for Beth. He tried to keep in mind, as he scanned the faces around the gate, that his sister was sure to have changed in the three years she'd been gone. The crowd began to thin away, people meeting their families and heading for the baggage claim. Jim was beginning to feel dumb, standing there with his head swiveling around. "Jim?!" He looked around and there she was - his big sister, Elizabeth. Man, had she ever changed! When she's left, she'd had short brown hair and the fashion sense of any other teenaged girl from eastern Nebraska, namely jeans and T-shirts. But now there was a wild looking girl....no, woman...in tight black Lycra pants, a bright red half-shirt that let her stomach bare and a tan suede jacket with lots of tassels swinging everywhere. Her hair was now blondish, long, over her shoulders with a tight curl. "Look at my baby brother - all grown up!" Beth said as she ran up to him and gave him a big hug which he returned with equal affection. "Beth, man, I've missed you..look at you!" He let her go and motioned to her attire. "You look like a fashion model or something." "What, these old things!" Beth laughed. "When in New York, do as the Yorkers do. Come on, let's go get your bags. I'm sorry I was late...it was hell getting a taxi today." "You don't have a car?" Jim said. "No one in New York has a car. There's barely enough room for the people. You'll see. This the most remarkable city in the world..... Tomorrow I can show you around, do the tourist thing." "Sounds good to me." Jim said as they headed down the concourse. In the cab on the way to Elizabeth's place, they caught up a little on the three intervening years. Elizabeth asked about the old town, the high school, if he knew anything about any of her old friends. Jim pumped her for the things she had seen on her travels, how she liked New York, etc. Beth seemed to want to steer away from the topic of why she hadn't kept in touch with the family more; she would just say that it was probably best for everyone, then added she hadn't wanted to worry them. "So, tell me, little brother, do you have a girlfriend back there?" "Well, I've had my share but I'm free at the moment. Why? You got someone you want to set me up with while I'm here?" "No, I was just wondering. When I left, you were still in the 'girl's are yucky' stage." Elizabeth laughed. "Yeah, well, I came to my senses." Jim smiled as the taxi slowed and pulled to the curb in front of tall brick building. "This is it." Beth said as she opened her door. A few minutes later, Beth was opening the door to her fifth story apartment loft. She walked in and hit the lights as her brother carried his case in. "Holy shit! This place is great." Jim complimented her as he looked around. The apartment had real high ceiling, wood floors, cool furniture. "Glad you like it. You can put your bag in here," Beth walked over to a door and turned on the light. He went into the bedroom and dumped his bag on the bed. The room was modern looking and clean. Overhead there was a skylight that was sure to let all the light in in the morning; sleeping in was going to be tough. "You'll be staying in here. This is my room usually. I'll be sharing my roommate's bedroom." "Roommate?" "Yeah, did you think I could afford this place by myself?" "I don't know. What kind of a job do you have?" Jim asked. "I'm a hostess at a club here in town. A really trendy place. It's private, in fact." "And what, you are on a salary?" "Yeah, but most

of the money comes from tips. The member's are loaded....it's really easy work. Just a lot of smiling. Anyway, I hope you're hungry, I'm going to make us some dinner." "I'm starving...all I got was some peanuts on the flight." "Good. Go ahead and unpack and I'll get things going." Beth left him, pulling off her suede coat as she went into the living area. Jim watched her leave and for the first time thought of how attractive Beth had become. She had to know that the clothes she wore left little to the imagination. The tight pants showed off her fine legs and cute bottom. Jim bet she played on her good looks at that club of hers, flashing a smile at the old codgers who'd give her a big tip just for the illusion of her maybe being attainable. Being blessed with good looks was a pretty easy way to get by in life but he couldn't hold that against Beth. It had gotten her away from Shitville, Nebraska. Jim put his clothes in some empty drawers and took his toiletries into the bathroom. Being a neat person by habit, he opened the medicine cabinet to see if there was enough room for his deodorant and shaver. And was surprised to find the cabinet totally empty. Not a bottle of pills, not a pair of tweezers, not a jar of nail polish - nothing. He opened the drawers by the sink and found them empty as well. The absence of any girlie items anywhere in the bathroom struck him as curious. He didn't think Beth had emptied everything out and taken it into her roommate's bathroom; no reason to go to all that trouble, just take the essentials over. The bathroom looked like it wasn't even being used. Jim stowed his stuff in the drawer, kicked off his shoes and went out to see what his sister was making for dinner. "Whoa! Who is this?" Jim said as he looked at a picture of his sister and another woman near the entrance to the kitchen. "Oh, that's Julie, my roommate....well, don't walk on your tongue!" Beth said as she took a bowl out of the cupboard. Julie looked like every man's ideal woman. In the picture, she was standing next to Beth with her arm around her shoulders. Beth was probably 5' 7". Unless Beth was standing in a hole, Julie must be at least 6' 2". Brunette, almost black hair, worn to mid-back with lots of body. Her face was attractive - not great, sorta tough looking but it certainly could be overlooked. But it was Julie's body from the neck down that probably stopped men in their tracks. Julie was stacked. Big round tits with a lot of cleavage showing. 'No way those are real,' Jim thought to himself. Hips that flared nicely, plenty of meat to grab onto there. Legs that looked like she had worn out a Stairmaster. 'She looks like a fuckin' superhero,' Jim thought. Finally he moved on into the kitchen where Beth was smiling at him knowingly. "Yeah, she gets that reaction a lot," Beth said as he leaned against the counter. "I bet she does. Is that all her?" Jim said as he motioned with his hand over his chest. "No.....but she says it was the best $5000 she ever spent." "$5000?! What kind of work does she do? That's a lot of money." "Well...she's an agent, I guess. She hooks people up." Beth said. "Like how?" Jim was intrigued. "Well, she sorta acts like a headhunter." Beth continued after Jim gave her a quizzical look. "She's like a talent agent, finding people for jobs." "Oh, I see." "Don't let her looks fool you," Beth said as she opened the refrigerator and handed him a beer, "Julie's a smart cookie, too." "So how did you two meet?" "At a gym. I was living with this guy for awhile, a real jerk as it turns out, but anyway, I could use his pass fro his health club. Julie and I just got talking and we hit it off. She's probably the best friend I've ever had. She pay's for the lionshare of the expenses for this place." "Well, you've really fallen in it here......penthouse apartment, good job...it sure beats milking the cows at 5 A.M." "Oh God, don't remind

me!" Beth said as she opened a beer for herself. Jim heard the front door open. Beth did too. "That must be Julie," she said to Jim. "JUUULLLEEESS!" "YEEAHH!" "Well, come and meet her," Beth said as she took her brother's hand. They exited the kitchen walking into the dining area and there she was - Julie and the picture didn't do her justice. She was looking through a stack of mail, wearing a form fitting short dress. She looked up then and jerked her head to the side, sending her hair over her shoulder. It was quick natural movement but Jim got the feeling she had waited until they could see her before she did it. "Julie, this is Jim." "So this is your little brother." Julie said as she walked over to them, the emphasis on the word 'little'. "I'd hate to see your 'big' brother." Jim liked the fact that Julie was complimenting him on his physique. He was 5' 11" with muscle from working long hours around the family farm. Julie extended her hand and Jim shook it. "Nice to meet you, Julie." he said and meant it, willing himself not to look at her fantastic chest. Julie could be fodder for many a night of masturbation. "You got a nice strong grip, Jim. You work out?" "Nah. Just work around the farm." he said. "Baling hay, other exciting stuff." "Yeah, Lizzie's told me all about the farm life." Julie said with a wry smirk. Julie bend slightly and gave Elizabeth a peck on her cheek. Elizabeth looked at Jim after it happened but then Julie continued, "So what do you kids have planned for tonight." Jim guessed Julie was maybe 30; certainly older than he at 17 and Elizabeth at 21. Being called a 'kid' made Jim twinge but he got the feeling that was just the way Julie was. Like she wanted to get a reaction. "Nothing tonight." Beth said. "I'm whipping up some dinner and I thought we'd just relax." "I just stopped by to get another pair of shoes," Julie said. "I've got a meeting later, so I'll have to pass on dinner. I'll be back around 11. You'll still be up, right?" "Oh sure, you know me." Beth replied. "All right then, I'll see you guys later." Julie walked off toward the door to the other bedroom on the other side of the apartment. Jim watched her bottom all the way. Beth punched him in the arm to bring him out of it. "You men are all alike!" she said giggling as she went back into the kitchen. Jim followed her. "So shoot me. There's nothing like that back on the farm....Lizzie." "Don't you start with the Lizzie, too. Julie started calling me that but I don't want it to catch on. Beth is just fine." Jim heard the front door open and close again as Julie headed back out into the city for her meeting. Beth was rooting around in the cupboard, pulling out spice bottles. "Dammit!" she said exasperated. "We're out of basil....I'm gonna run down to the market and get some. Without the basil, this dish just doesn't make it." "Hey, don't go to any trouble....." Jim said as he followed her out into the living area. "The market's just around the corner. I'll only be a few minutes." She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. Left alone, Jim wandered around. He went outside on the patio that was off the dining area and looked at the surrounding buildings in the fading dusk. He went into the kitchen and lifted the lid on what Beth was preparing; it looked like an Italian sausage dish. He roamed into the livingroom and studied the prints on the walls; they were all of women, paintings by a guy named Nagel. They reminded him of some of the artwork in the front of Playboy magazines, mildly erotic. He was walking near the door to Julie's room and the door was open, so he poked his head in. The bedroom was larger than the one he was staying in; obviously this was the master bedroom of the apartment. Same skylight, a king-size bed with black and white bedding, same sliding door for the closet and the bathroom door in the same place as in the other

bedroom. Jim was going to move back out into the apartment when he noticed something very interesting sitting on the far bedside table. He couldn't be absolutely sure it was what he thought it was; a magazine was covering part of it. He was going to walk over and check it out but he heard a key being inserted in the front door. Quickly he moved a few feet to the nearby entertainment center and made like he was looking at their music selections as Elizabeth came through the door. "Told you that wouldn't take too long," she said as she pulled off her coat. "Come on and help me set the table." "Sure," Jim said as he followed her toward the kitchen. His thoughts, however, were on what he thought he had seen in Julie's bedroom. It had sure looked like there was a pair of handcuffs under that magazine.

#MANHATTAN MADNESS by Chili Peeler #CHapter 1

2 notes · View notes

rhub4rb · 5 years

Text

Of Birds and Bugs

AO3

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7

-_-_-_-

Gotham truly was a beautiful city.

Marinette had gotten a good look at it after she had transformed, flying up in the air and looking for a good place to detransform in, ending up in an alley somewhere.

Her Ladybug suit had changed after her debut as NeTi. Now, she had a black, long-sleeve cheongsam top, with a red sleeveless top that had a round neckline, dots placed a bit more strategically with one small at the top, one big in the middle, and another small one at the bottom front, where it stopped around her bellybutton. It had two long coattails, going down to her knees. Her legs and stomach were completely black, save for the red soles on her shoes.

She had been quite happy to find that there was a hole in the middle of her back, where wings now resided on her bare skin.

After Marinette had detransformed, she had panicked when she realized she had forgotten her medical mask back in her hotel room. Tikki told Marinette to just put up her hood and then it would be hard to recognize her.

So, Marinette walked the dark streets of Gotham alone, and despite everything in her logical mind yelling that it wasn't safe, Marinette hadn't felt this relaxed in ages. Maybe it was the continuous sound of cars driving by, or the chatter of people walking down the streets.

Marinette, in all her loneliness, had taken to keeping her skylight open at night, focusing on the sound of people.

For some reason, it helped her breathe.

Of course, that came with its own set of dangers, namely Chat Noir, but Marinette had gotten good at waking up from the sense of him near.

It was nice that no one seemed to recognize her either. She knew that it was probably because of the dark and her hoodie dress, but it was still a nice little break.

Marinette let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. She pulled out her phone, going wide-eyed as she saw what the time was.

"I should probably head back to the hotel..." She mumbled under her breath.

She looked around, before discreetly walking into an alley where she could transform. Marinette pulled on her oversized hoodie's neckline, Tikki sleeping in one of the inside pockets she had made.

Marinette was just about to tell Tikki that it was time to go, when she heard a thud on the roof of one of the buildings.

She let go of her neckline quickly, and looked up, only to see a boy's silhouette.

It was a standard patrol that night.

It had been pretty uneventful so far, in Damian's opinion, and he really wasn't in the mood to go around Gotham today.

For some weird reason, his father had thought it was a good idea to invite an entire class from France to visit Gotham, and Damian just knew that at least one of them would cause problems. He did not feel like babysitting a class full of foreigners that didn't speak English, no thank you.

Damian snapped out of his internal complaining however when he spotted a hooded figure walking into a dark alley. He felt suspicion crawl up his neck, and he quickly told the others that he was checking something out real quick.

When he landed on the roof of one of the buildings, the person quickly turned around to see where the noise came from.

Damian felt his breathing hitch when wide bluebell eyes met his.

In the girl's fast turn, her hood had fallen off, revealing midnight blue hair, hiding peach pink coloring.

"Hello..." She said faintly, and Damian noted a slight heating in his cheeks.

"You know, it's quite late for an attractive girl like yourself to be out. Especially in Gotham."

"O-oh!" The girl coughed, looking anywhere but at him. "I- uh, I got a bit lost. I've never been to Gotham before so..." she trailed off, her foot awkwardly kicking the ground.

Damian heard a slight french accent, and he wondered if she was part of the French class he had been complaining about all day.

"You're one of the heroes from here, right?" She looked up at him with her big eyes, and Damian hated how endearing it made her appear.

"Robin," he said curtly.

The girl smiled brightly at him, Damian cursing his heart for fluttering.

"My name's Marinette, I'm here with my class on a trip from France. It's an honor to meet you."

Her name sounded familiar to him, but he brushed it off. He had met so many people in his life already, he wouldn't be surprised if he'd met a Marinette before.

"Well Angel, how about I take you back to the hotel," he spoke before thinking.

Damian considered taking back the statement for a moment, but the way the girl's eyes lit up and her smile widened made him stop in his tracks.

"I mean, if it's not a bother then-"

"Of course not," Damian jumped down from the roof, and for the first time got a closer look at the girl's face.

He noticed the faint freckles peppering her cheeks, as well as the light blush that even touched her ears. Damian thought she looked familiar, but he shook the thought out of his head.

This was her first time in Gotham, so there was no reason for her to seem familiar to him.

She was pretty too, beautiful even. He felt as if he would remember if he had met her.

"So, Angel, are you ready?"

Her answering smile had his heart beating faster.

Marinette thought about Robin as she lied in her hotel bed, trying to fall asleep.

The heroes in Gotham were different to those in Paris.

Robin couldn't be much older than Marinette herself, and yet here he was fighting crime, even without a protective layer of magic to help him.

It was something that had always scared Marinette about the heroes without magic. They were just normal human beings, they weren't built for fighting the same way Marinette now was.

Of course, Marinette wasn't magic, at least not completely, but she still had magic that helped protect her, and that magic was powered by what was essentially the goddess of creation!

It was both inspiring and nerve-wracking at the same time.

Marinette let out a sigh.

She had woken up about an hour ago, having fallen out of the bed. Marinette stayed mostly quiet, not wanting to wake Tikki up at three in the morning, so instead, she had spent the early hours of the morning being on her phone.

Now an hour had gone by however, and Marinette was starting to feel both restless and bored.

She checked the time, deciding to take a shower. There was still a while before the class had to meet up, so she wasn't too worried about not making it in time. Truth be told, Marinette hadn't been late to school in a while. Now she always woke up early, having a quick one hour practice before getting ready to leave.

Of course, there were more enjoyable ways to wake up, and falling out of the bed was never really nice. Marinette was happy to say that it didn't happen too often however.

When she was done with her shower, Marinette started to get dressed, noticing her phone buzzing on the bed, stirring Tikki slightly.

Marinette went to turn it off when she read the messages that had been sent.

'Lila somehow managed to talk to Bustier into changing some plans'

The first text from Alix read, and Marinette's heart sunk.

'we're leaving early- Lila told Bustier she had informed you of the changes'

Panic took its place in Marinette's stomach.

'the bus leaves @8'

Marinette quickly looked at the time, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to throw her phone.

8:05

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

This was fine. She would just ask Claude, her bodyguard, to drive her there. He was going to come with her anyway for the tour anyway.

Marinette sighed, nudging Tikki awake.

"Time to wake up Tikki, Claude will drive us to the Wayne building."

"Wh- wha?"

Marinette just smiled at her drowsy kwami, before putting Tikki in her purse and putting on her black medical mask.

When she walked out of her room, she saw Claud stood ready for her outside of her door.

"I'm sorry to inform you that your class has already left," Claude said, wincing at his words.

"Yeah, I know, Alix texted me that Lila pulled some strings," Marinette grinned wrily, though Claude couldn't see it. "I don't know what strings she has to pull, but..." she shrugged.

Claude sighed, ruffling her hair and ignoring the indignant 'hey!'.

"Let's go Mari, I'm sure you don't want to be more late than you already are."

Dick was looking very forward to the french class arriving for the tour.

After Damian had gone slightly off route for last night's patrol, then saying that he would be back but then not showing up for an hour, it made his three brothers drill him about what happened.

It took a while, and a lot of prying, but Dick figured it out before the others did.

"So who's the girl?"

Damian had stiffened, and that was when Dick knew he had hit the mark.

The others had noticed too, and Jason had pounced immediately.

"A girl talked to Demon Spawn and didn't immediately run for the hills?" He asked in overdramatized shock. "This is a once in a lifetime chance! No way another girl will do that."

"Shut up, Todd," Damian grit out.

Dick would have felt bad for Damian, if it weren't for the fact that he found it way too amusing.

"It's a statistical improbability!" Tim added.

"So, what is the unfortunate soul's name?" Jason asked, slinging his arm over Damian's shoulder.

Damian crinkled his nose in disdain, lifting Jason's arm off of his shoulder in disgust. Looking around the excited faces of his brothers, he let out a tired sigh and crossed his arms.

"Marinette," He grumbled out. "I didn't get her last name, but she's here with that french class or whatever."

There was quiet between the brothers for a bit before Dick finally asked.

"You mean Marinette like NeTi Marinette? Rock idol NeTi?" Dick squeaked out.

Damian thought about it a little before shrugging.

"I don't know, but I don't think so? Isn't her hair black or something?" When all of his brothers nodded, Damian shook his head. "Then it wasn't her. Some of her hair was dyed."

The brothers deflated, bummed at the missed opportunity.

Dick, Tim, and Jason were all big NeTi fans. Tim was the first one to start listening to his music. He had always been a big Jagged Stone fan, so when he found out that his favorite musician's "niece" was releasing music, he checked it out. Dick and Jason followed soon after, but Damian never really gave her music a try.

Something about her probably being a flake.

Still, despite the disappointment, Dick wanted a look at the girl who had somehow charmed his youngest brother. Which was why he was confused when the french class arrived, but no girl fitting the description Damian gave was there. After a quick headcount, Dick was quick to bring this to the teacher's attention.

"Mme. Bustier?" The teacher looked at him with a questioning gaze. "You seem to be missing a student."

Her eyes widened, and Dick got the sinking feeling that the teacher hadn't counted her students before leaving the hotel. Great.

"If you wouldn't mind, is it okay if I took attendance for a moment?"

Dick nodded, but Mme. Bustier got cut off before she even got the chance to start.

"Don't worry, that won't be necessary."

Dick looked towards the sound of his brother's voice, his eyes widening at the sight of his brother linking arms with a girl he could only assume was Marinette.

Damian wanted nothing more than to find Marinette the day after patrol.

He used the information that he had, which was her first name and the fact that she was part of the French class that would be touring Wayne Enterprises, to try and find her.

He would have tried to get more information on her, but Bruce had strictly told all of his sons that they were not allowed to research the class, for some stupid reason that he wouldn't tell.

He didn't understand why, and he was highly tempted to say screw the rules, but one stern look from Alfred stopped him.

Instead, he decided to go with his brother to give the tour, in hopes that he could meet the girl as a civilian.

He was quick to notice however, once the class arrived at the front doors where he stood, keeping an eye out for her, that she wasn't there.

His brows furrowed, and he looked around in confusion and counting the class.

She wasn't there.

Had she lied?

No, there was supposed to be one more student, Damian noted as he counted them all.

They didn't forget her, did they?

Damian cursed under his breath and walked out, ignoring his brother calling out to him, as he started heading towards the parking lot. If he was lucky, she would still be at her hotel, and he could run into her there.

He didn't get very far however, as almost as soon as he stepped foot into the parking lot, someone walked into him.

"Hey! Look where you're-"

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going and then-"

Damian was just about to level a glare at the girl, when his eyes widened in recognition.

"-and my class sort of left me behind so I was in a bit of a hurry and-"

She was rambling, he realized, and he wondered briefly about whether or not she had taken a breath yet.

"It's okay," He finally cut her off. "You said your class left you behind?"

He looked her over, noting the black medical mask she was wearing, as well as a tall man in a suit standing not that far behind her, reminding Damian of a bodyguard.

"Yeah, they uh, apparently changed the time of the tour, and I wasn't informed about it, so..." She trailed off.

It angered Damian slightly. He didn't know her, sure, but Gotham wasn't a safe city to be in, especially alone. How the teacher allowed this to happen, he had no idea.

"Well, I happen to know the route the tour is going, I could show you to your class?" Damian asked.

Marinette looked behind her, and when the unknown man in a suit nodded, Marinette beamed at him.

"That would be wonderful, thank you!"

Damian looked at the guy with narrowed eyes before looking at the girl and offering his arm.

"If you don't mind me asking, who's your friend over there?" She stiffened slightly, before laughing awkwardly.

"He's uh... A type of chaperone?" Her eyes crinkled and she shrugged. It was hard to tell what she was thinking or feeling when half of her face was covered. "I'm Marinette, by the way. Nice to meet you," She smiled.

"Damian. It's nice to meet you too," Damian relaxed, easing into a small smile, and he started to lead the girl towards the irresponsible class. "So Angel, is it your first time in Gotham?"

He hadn't meant for the nickname he had given her the night before to slip, but it didn't seem she noticed, stuttering a response.

"Y-yeah. I only really travel to Asia when I go places..." She trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"Oh? Where have you been?"

And just like that, they fell into easy conversation.

At least, until they reached the class.

-_-_-_-

@ozmav @skyel0ve @kuroko26 @shizukiryuu @fangirl-food-feelings @driftingmoonlitpetals @spicybelladonna @thebookwormfairy @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @melicmusicmagic @minightrose @graduatedmelon @awkwardturtlez @sizzling-fairy-oil @thornangelic727 @royalchaoticfangirl @vixen-uchiha @mewwitch @my-name-is-michell @imfreakingmagical @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @constancetruggle @kae690 @resignedcatservant @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @drama-queen-supreme @derpingrainbow @captainmac6 @k-rena-k @lunar-wolf-warrior @friedchickening @fandomfan315 @fanboy7794 @yin-390 @unholykrow @teresarosiadeviluke2112 @ayuchan07 @seraphichana @justanothersepticeyefan @politelyvicious @roseinbloom02 @uncompressed-boi @cadencehood @kaleigh-girlonfire

#maridami #daminette #maribat #they finally meet #I dont like how long it took me to write this #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng

408 notes · View notes

cozywritings · 4 years

Text

Stitches: ch 2 Put Your Head On My Shoulder

You woke up to the sun in your eyes, the blinds open just enough to live up to their name. The stream of light temporarily blinded you until you looked down at Shawn, who in the night, had moved completely on top of you.

While his warmth was welcomed, you had to fucking pee. So you tapped him gently on his shoulder, whisperingas not to startle him or wake the other students who were still asleep. “Shawn. Shawn hey, I’ve gotta pee. Please get up.” you said a few times in an attempt to wake the handsome boy on you.

When he finally woke up, he looked so embarrassed. His cheeks were a deep red and he instantly rolled off of you, his curls flopping all over the place. “Fuck I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t mean to-“ you almost couldn’t breathe through your quiet laughing.

“It’s okay, really. I would’ve just gone back to sleep, but I have to pee really bad and you weren’t moving any time soon.”

The two of you stood up and made your way towards your rooms, folding the blankets as your walked. “I’m gonna go shower, I’m supposed to show you around today.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the stairs as you made your way up to the third floor. “Oh you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you want to study or something.” You started but he was quick to interrupt.

“No no I offered to show you. And I’m going to. Just let me clean up and we can go get breakfast and I’ll show you the best places around campus.” At the mention of getting breakfast together, your eyes widened and your blushing became more noticeable.

“Wow, already taking me to breakfast. You’re pretty confident.” As you spoke, you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover up the fact that your chest was flushed.

He let out a chuckle, “I figured it was the right thing to do, considering we slept together.” He ended his statement with a wink before the two of you stepped to your sides of the hallway to get ready.

“So I’ll pick you up at 10?” He asked and you smiled, nodding while you opened your door.

“I’ll see you then.”

---

“Okay so that’s the best library on campus.” Shawn said, pointing to an all glass building. “It’s got the best light and also, during midterms and finals, they have puppies in the back section to help students relieve stress. It’s also a way for the shelter to get the dogs adopted.” You couldn’t help the squeal of excitement at the idea, and he looked over at you smiling.

“That's the cutest thing ever! How many do they usually have?” Your brain now on puppy mode.

He just shrugged “I don’t really know. I’m allergic to them, so I’ve never gone.”

“That is the saddest thing I think I’ve ever heard. I don’t think I could live my life without puppies. Even though I have a cat, but still.” He laughed, putting an arm around you and walking you towards the student center to help you find your textbooks.

The two of you continued to walk around campus for a few more hours. Shawn showing you all the best places for food and where to study to avoid the wind blowing your papers away. He even showed you where your classes were so you weren’t totally lost next week when classes started. Eventually, you had stopped for lunch halfway through, getting pizza from a little place in the main lunch hall.

As the two of you started making your way back to the dorms, you got nervous. “So, um, there’s a welcome dinner tonight that the fashion department is throwing for some students and I was invited to go.” you started, not completely sure how to phrase the next part “... and, well, you’re allowed one guest. You’re technically supposed to bring a parent or significant other, but my parents weren’t able to stay. Mom’s job called her back and she took the next flight back home to Austin.”

You we’re now staring at your shoes, admiring the tan suede ankle boots and the top of your red socks peeking out. “Do you think you could go with me?? I don’t really know a lot of people yet and like I said my mom was gonna go but work called her back so, yeah. If tgat’s weird I get it, you’ve only known me a few hours and-”

Your rambling was cut off by Shawn who tilted your head up by your chin. “Of course I’ll go with you.” He smiled, and you noticed he was blushing almost as hard as you were. “But usually I’m the one asking for the first date.” That threw you off.

“It-um it’s a formal dinner so um, I guess, dress nice?” He nodded, taking a mental note of your instructions before pulling you along to the dorms again, telling you that the tour was almost at an end. “I can do formal. The medical department does something like that once a year to commemorate the top and most promising students. I was invited last year.”

Now standing in front of your doors, you were about to turn to your own when Shawn cleared his throat. “I haven’t shown you the best place to study yet.” He announced before opening the door to his own dorm and waving towards it.

You took a step inside, and looked around. He had a whole organizer of highlighters and sticky notes, index cards and extra notebooks as well as snacks and a speaker. “This is the absolute best place to study.” He stated proudly. “I’m always studying here unless some of the guys want to do a study group in one of the group rooms in the building or something. You’re also more than welcome to study here if you don’t want to study alone or you could take some tips from my station and create your own perfect study table in your own dorm. Which reminds me, do you still need help with rearranging? We could do it right now and you can finish your decorating before tonight.”

“Actually I’d really appreciate it. Then maybe I can be completely finished before I have to get ready for tonight.” Shawn just grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards your own room to help. It only took twenty minutes for the two of you you get everything up and your tv on h=the dresser.

Your room was now completely finished. After Shawn had moved your bed, he helped you put up the things you couldn’t reach, like your poster of the sketches for the Victoria Secret fashion show last year. You’d gotten it from your trip to New York City earlier in the summer.

“Alright, I shall leave you to prepare for tonight. You said it’s black tie, right?” He asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Mhm. It starts at 7:00, so be ready about 6:15?” He gave you a quick thumbs up before walking out of your room and closing your door gently.

Looking over at your clock you groaned; 4:35. Guess it’s already time to start getting ready. So you chose a dress and the perfect heels, and hopped into another shower to wash off the sweat from walking around and all the decorating.

“Okay so do I want to curl it? Or a sleek ponytail? And is red lipstick too much or what?” You babbled on to Emily as she sat on your bean bag chair, sipping a green tea from the on campus Starbucks.

She looked between you and the dress you had hanging on the back of the door. “Put the dress on for me?” She asked, pointing to the silky red fabric.

So you walked over and slipped it on, looking over at Emily who had a shocked look on her face. “Oh, my god. That looks amazing on you. And you’ve got the most handsome guy in the building to be your date!?” Her face scrunched in excitement as she clapped her hands.

“He’s not my date. He just…. agreed to go with me. And wear a suit and tie.” Your voice trailing off as you put your robe on to cover the dress as you finished getting ready. You decided with a curled have up style, going for more of a Blake Lively at the 2014 Met Gala

It was now 6pm, Emily had already left and now you’re ready to go get Shawn. But before you do, you take one last look in the mirror. Your makeup was absolutely perfect, and you were positive nothing has ever fit you better than that red silk dress, thank god for your ability to tailor clothing. But before you could leave, there was a knock on the door.

You opened it to find Shawn, in a black suit, adorning a silky black bow tie and a gorgeous smile. “Wow, you look- absolutely amazing.” He choked out, obviously not prepared to see the dress.

“You don’t look too bad yourself. Are you ready for this? Are you sure you want to do this?” He extended this arm as a response.

You smiled, placing your arm in his and closing your door. “Look I was going to ask you on a date after the tour today anyways. You just beat me to it. Of course I want to.” The blush that creeped up your neck was probably noticable as you made your way to his car.

----

Walking into the dining hall that the department had rented for the night, you audibly gasped. Well, balcony was the better word. It was so elegant and there were so many really important people in the room that you needed to impress. Department leaders, possible future internship options with buyers and even industry leaders, just to name a few.

“Invitation ma’am?” The usher asked, holding out his hand. You showeed him the paper, smiling as he lead the two of you to your table, where you were sat with some girls you’d seen at the movie night.

When the chair next to yours moved, you looked over to see Kyle and what looked to be his sister taking a seat. “Oh my god you look stunning!” He exclaimed as he realised you were next to him.

You smiled, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Thank you, but doesn’t my date look so much better?” You asked, motioning to Shawn who was currently talking with one of the other guys as the table.

Kyle’s eyes went wide when he saw Shawn. “You mean… that’s your boyfriend??” You shook your head quickly.

“Oh no, he just was nice enough to be my date since my mom couldn’t make it.” He gave you a smirk and an “mhm” before introducing you to his sister. It turns out that she was actually attending Stanford for Law, but she wanted to come so Kyle asked her to join.

Dinner went well, you learned a lot about Shawn and how intelligent he truly was. It was almost intimidating all he’s accomplished in just 21 years of life. You just learned his birthday was only a week agao. Not only was he smart, but he also seemed really interested in what you did. All the designers you liked and how you hoped to get a job in New York, all in all it was turning out to be a wonderful evening and first date.

When the dinner portion was over it was time to party. They brought out a dj and cleared out some of the dining tables to make room for the dance floor

“Would you like to dance?” You looked up to see Shawn, his arm outstretched “I’m not very good but I feel like it’s an obligation.” He added as you placed your hand in his and stood up, letting him lead you onto the dance floor, saying a goodbye to Kyle.

Just as you approached the floor, Paul Anika’s Put Your Head on My Shoulder started. The both of you laughed as you swayed to the older song, your head literally resting on Shawn’s shoulder as you danced, just getting lost in the music

‘Put your lips next to mine dear, won’t you kiss me once, baby. Just a kiss good night, maybe. You and I will fall in love.’

Apparently those words sparked something in Shawn, as he pulled back, pressing his lips to yours as he dipped you back. “I- I’m sorry that was so.” He sputtered, eyes wide as if he was embarassed about what he did.

“Shhhh do it again.” You smiled, placing your hand on his jaw and closing the gap. You wanted to kiss Shawn forever.

The drive back to the dorm was interesting. The two of you holding hands and giggling at absolutely nothing, just high off of the night and the sheer intensity of what happened on the dance floor. While neither of you wanted to admit it, you felt something in the kiss. And the neo after that. And the ten after that.

But the one thing the two of you didn’t know, what that those lyrics weren’t just lyrics. They were possibly speaking the future for you.

When you got to your doors, you stopped, turning to see Shawn, curls matted to his forehead and his bow tie was slightly off kilter. His smile was one of pure adoration, why, you have no idea. You were positive that your hair was a mess and your lipstick was most likely gone, some was still staining Shawn’s lips and a little of his shirt.

“Well, I guess this is good night.” He said, placing a hand on your lower back. “One more kiss for the road?”

Instead of answering, you grabbed his jacket and pulled him in for a quick kiss before swiftly opening your door and leaving Shawn dumbfounded in the hallway.

He stood there for about 30 seconds, blinking, just trying to figure out what happened before he let out a chuckle and walked into his own dorm. Tonight was definitely one of the best of your life. Probably Shawn’s too.

Now sitting on your floor, the first thing you did was pull out your phone. “Emily. You’re never going to believe what happened tonight.”

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #Shawn writing #shawn fluff #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fic #college shawn #med student shawn #my fic #stitches

27 notes · View notes

quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Second Chance - Ch 2 Second Chance at a First Date

“Luka, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go,” Marinette pouted when the chauffeur helped her into the car next to him. “I asked you out, I should have planned the date.”

“I know,” he grinned. “But this way we have a chance of keeping at least this one date out of the tabloids.”

“I hardly ever see you in the tabloids,” Marinette remarked. “Why is that?”

Luka chuckled. “One of my friends from lycée works for a legitimate entertainment magazine, so I make sure all the news goes to him first and that heads off some of it, but honestly, for a rock star, I’m boring. Juleka and I wanted to retain as much control as possible over our brand, so I work a lot. I don’t drink or party, I don’t date all that much. I’m not really hard to find because I eat at the same places and work out at the same gym every day, so mostly they show up and take a few invasive pictures and then get bored and leave. I don’t get mobbed at the door everywhere I go unless there’s an album release or something big like that. The last time the tabloids really cared about me was when I was dating Clara.”

Marinette gasped. “That’s right, I forgot you dated Clara Nightingale!”

Luka ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. “Yeah, I can’t actually believe I had to guts to hit on her in the first place, but we were on the same tour and she’s so sweet, I’d developed this massive crush on her, and when you’ve been up for thirty-seven hours straight a lot of stupid things get said.” He blushed a bit at the memory, putting a hand to his forehead. “Man, I was so awkward, but she was really nice about it. She was even sweet when she dumped me, although I think we had both realized by then that neither of us were invested enough in the relationship to overcome the challenges once the tour was over. It’s bad enough trying to date with my schedule but you add hers into the mix and it was—” He shook his head. “We parted on good terms and we still keep in touch when we’re both in town, despite what the gossip rags tried to make it. When I didn’t spiral into drunken despair, they moved on pretty quick. Way more profitable to follow someone like Jagged who makes a scene everywhere he goes, or someone like XY that people love to hate.”

“How inconsiderate of you not to go on a bender and be found in a ditch on the side of the road,” Marinette giggled.

“Very. I’m terrible for magazine sales.” Luka took her hand. “Anyway, I figured if we used the car service and went to a restaurant with a covered entrance we’d squeak by without ending up in the papers. I can’t guarantee that, though.”

“I figured,” Marinette shrugged. “I kinda got used to it while I was with Adrien. I’ll get used to it again if I have to.”

There were thrilling implications there he didn’t want to think about too hard just yet. “You look beautiful. Is that one of yours?”

“Thank you. It’s actually not,” Marinette admitted, looking down at her dress. “One of my friends made it for me a few months ago as part of a trade. It’s lovely, though, isn’t it? He did a great job. He’s going to be huge once his line debuts next summer, I’m sure of it.”

Luka smiled. “And when does your line debut?”

“Oh,” Marinette sighed, and made a face. “That’s kind of the hard thing about coming off of this internship. I’ve had two years where everything was sort of laid out and planned for me, and now I have to figure out what the next step is on my own. Although before even that, I have to put together a mini show and presentation for the awards committee to demonstrate what I’ve taken away from the experience. There will be a lot of really important people in the industry, I’m hoping to make an impression and see what opportunities develop from there.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is,” Marinette shrugged, “But it’s worth it, and I’m certainly not lacking for inspiration material. I’ll get it done.”

“And you still made time to go out with me.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “I’m flattered.”

Marinette smiled at him. “Prioritizing is definitely something I’ve gotten better at while I was away.” She laced her fingers through his and darted a glance up through her lashes that hit him like a punch to the gut. “I missed you a lot while I was gone, Luka. I’m not about to miss you while we’re both right here.”

“Well,” he said, hoping his sudden inability to breathe wasn’t too obvious, “We’re in total agreement on that one.”

Luka was relieved that he managed to make it to their table without tripping over himself (Marinette wasn’t so lucky, but that was normal for her, and he was there to catch her). He rubbed his hand on his knee as he sat down, reassuring himself that he was in fact wearing pants, since he was getting increasingly worried he might be dreaming.

Except if he were, wouldn’t he be dreaming about the sweet, stuttering, blushing, beautiful mess he remembered? Not this confident, flirty, undeniably hot woman.

He was in so much trouble.

“Thanks for taking me out, Luka,” Marinette said once they were settled. “Honestly I didn’t even know if you would want to see me after all this time, and...everything.” Marinette’s cheeks reddened, and Luka found himself relaxing at the familiar flush. “I probably owe you an apology for everything that happened back then.”

Luka shook his head. “You didn’t hurt me on purpose. We were all young, you were in love. I knew it; I think everyone did but Adrien.”

Marinette groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I’m still sorry. I could have handled it better. I could have handled you better. Sometimes I want to die when I think about how I was back then.”

“Well, we all have some memories like that,” Luka chuckled. “I don’t hold any of it against you. How is Adrien?”

“He’s doing well. Things were hard for him for a while, especially right after we broke up, but he’s in a better place now. He...I don’t want to say too much or speak out of turn, but he’s had some long-standing issues and he’s finally seeing someone about them, and he’s made a lot of progress.”

“That’s good to hear, I’m glad he’s getting some help.” Luka glanced away. “The way he grew up would have messed up anybody. But I’m sorry it took losing you to make him realize he needed it.”

Marinette shrugged, and her smile was crooked. “I’d really rather not get into it.”

Luka winced. “Of course, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

Marinette shook her head. “It was messy for a while, but we’re both in good places now, both individually and in our friendship, so let’s just leave it at that.”

“Right,” Luka agreed. “So tell me more about this presentation you have to do, it sounds interesting.”

“In a little bit,” Marinette smiled, leaning on the table towards him. “We talked so much about me last time, I want to hear more about you. Is being a rock star everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Yes and no,” Luka admitted. “It’s awesome, don’t get me wrong, and it blows me away how many people want to hear my music, but—hang on, let me think about how to say this right.” He frowned as he considered his words. “It’s great bringing my music to more people,” he said slowly. “I don’t regret anything and I’m so grateful. But…”

“Take your time,” Marinette encouraged, putting her hand over his on the table, and he flashed her a grateful smile.

“I miss the deeper connections, I guess. I miss looking in someone’s eyes and playing something that’s meaningful for just that person, or for just the two of us.”

“Like the day we met,” Marinette agreed softly, and he nodded, smiling fondly at her.

“I don’t get to do that often any more, and I miss that.”

“Can I ask you something?” Marinette said, cheeks tinting pink again. “That song you wrote the first year you hit it big…”

Luka didn’t even need her to finish. The whole album had been about moving on, letting go, and several of the singles had hit big, but he knew exactly which song she meant. “It was about you, yeah. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“I cried when I heard it,” she admitted. “To this day, it’s the only one of your songs I can’t listen to.”

“I’m sorry. I kind of hoped you wouldn’t figure it out, but I should have known you would.”

Marinette shook her head. “Don’t be. Clearly it was something you needed to write, and I think it was something I needed to hear.”

Luka smiled. “So you listen to my music, huh?”

“Of course I do,” she exclaimed. “I have every album you’ve released, physical and digital copies.”

“You’d do that even if you didn’t like it,” he teased, though he was touched.

“That’s true. But I do like it,” she leaned in, and the fingers covering his hand brushed over his knuckles in slow strokes. “I like the music, and I like the man who makes it.”

“Careful, angel,” he told her, voice deepening slightly as thrills danced through him from her touch. “You’ll make me blush.”

“Luka, that voice is dangerous,” she laughed breathlessly, cheeks a bright pink.

“Mmm, so I’ve been told,” he grinned slyly, pleased to find he affected her. She’d had him off balance since he’d laid eyes on her at the concert. “I think there was even a magazine vote about it once. But I think your eyes are what’s dangerous. I could get lost in them forever.”

Once upon a time Marinette would have combusted on the spot, sputtering and stammering until she literally fell over. Tonight Marinette just blinked those beautiful eyes and asked softly, “Would that be so bad?”

Luka moved his hand to thread his fingers through hers. She remained solid in his grip. Still not a dream. “It sounds like heaven to me.”

***

Luka was feeling a little thunderstruck as he walked Marinette back up to Alya’s apartment, where she was staying for the time being. On the one hand, he’d been burned badly by Marinette once before, whether she’d intended to or not, and if she’d been fire then, she was something infinitely more dangerous now. On the other hand, she’d made her interest in him clear, and he wanted very much to explore what they could be together. The chemistry between them was as strong as it had always been, and just the way she’d been looking at him tonight was enough to make him feel weak. Add in the flirty banter and soft touches and he was perilously close to melting at her feet.

The old saying about things that seem too good to be true was in his mind as she turned to face him outside the apartment door. Luka flattened one hand against the door and leaned in, keeping his hand in his coat pocket. Marinette raised her face to meet him and he pressed his mouth to hers softly. He felt her fingers tangle in the front of his shirt to pull him closer. He took her hands and detached them gently.

“Next time,” he said softly into the space between them, and then he had to clear his throat. “Can there be a next time, Marinette?”

“I’d like that,” she said, and then, more hesitantly, “You don’t have to hold back so much, you know. I’m not delicate.”

He took her hand in his and flattened her palm over his heart so she could feel how it pounded in his chest. “I know that, but right now, I am. My life already goes so fast I feel like I can hardly keep up. I’d really like to take things slow between us, if that’s okay.”

The smile she gave him was slow and soft. “Definitely.”

“And part of it is that…” he paused, thinking over his words. “Sorry, it’s just I don’t want to say this wrong.”

“Take your time.”

“I still have a lot of past Marinette in my head,” he said, running his thumb along her cheekbone. “The girl I was in love with all through lycée.” Her breath caught and he gave her a moment to absorb that as he considered his next words. “I want us to get to know each other again, if that makes sense. I don’t want to be blinded to who you are now by a bunch of memories and unresolved feelings. I want be sure I’m really seeing you, and I want to make sure you��re really seeing me too. So...can we start like strangers?” He huffed in frustration. “No, that’s not what I mean, exactly…”

“It’s okay, I think I understand, and you’re right.” Marinette curled her hand lightly around his wrist. “I know I probably put you through a lot back then and I’m not trying to rush you into anything.”

“Marinette,” Luka said gently, “If we’re going to have anything in the here and now, you need to let that go.” He smiled. “I was never angry with you, and you don’t owe me anything. Clean slate, okay?” He bit his lip and looked away. “I’m not asking you for anything, but for my own peace of mind, I want you to know that I won’t be seeing anyone else, casually or otherwise, until we figure out what we want us to be.” He gave a lopsided grin. “I know that there are all these preconceptions that people have about rock stars, but I have to be honest, I’m not very good at casual anyway. Just not my thing, you know?”

“I wondered,” Marinette admitted. “It didn’t seem like you, but it’s like you said, about rock stars and you always look really hot on stage and—“ she buried her face in her hands. “And why haven’t you stopped me yet, oh my God…”

Luka lost his battle against laughter and he pulled her to him, hugging her even as she punched his arm. “Ow, you’re strong,” he laughed, squeezing her tight.

“So are you, that was like punching a wall,” she said, her tone grumpy, but she slid her fingers down his arm with appreciation, leaving goosebumps in her wake even through his dress shirt.

“My personal trainer thanks you for the compliment,” Luka grinned, and then he sighed, loosening his arms and taking half a step back. “I’m supposed to be saying good night here before I get carried away.”

Marinette slid her arms up around his neck, and the smirk she gave him nearly killed him on the spot. “It wouldn’t hurt to get a little carried away, would it?”

Resistance crumbling, Luka let her pull him down into another kiss, fuller and deeper than before, taking a moment to really savor the feel and the taste of her and the way she moved against him, and then he pulled back and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Marinette. I can’t wait to see you again. I’ll call?”

“You better.”

***

Juleka was sitting on his couch when he got home with his guitar in her lap, playing Seven Year Ache at half tempo with a morose expression. Subtle as a funeral dirge, he thought, rolling his eyes as he hung his keys on the rack by the door and took off his suit coat. “I’m gonna take my key back if you start waiting up for me every time I’m on a date,” he called.

Juleka took one look at his face when he walked into the living room and groaned, letting her head fall back. “I thought you were over this, you absolute idiot.”

“It was a lie,” he sighed, flopping on his back on the loveseat and propping his long legs on the arm. “I was never over it.”

“Luka, she wrecked you for years.”

“No, she didn’t,” he protested. “One, it wasn’t her fault, and two, I was fine.”

“You were heartbroken.”

“Heartbroken and fine, Juleka.”

“Fine is not the same thing as happy,” Juleka snorted, folding her arms.

“I’m happy now,” he replied, grinning at the ceiling like a loon.

“You could at least string her along for a bit,” Juleka grumbled. “Make her suffer just a little.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong, Jule, cut her some slack.”

“I don’t need to, you give her plenty for both of us.” Juleka pursed her lips. “She picked someone else over you.”

“That was her right. I don’t hold it against her, why do you?”

“She hurt you.”

“Yeah, well that hurt went platinum, so I think you can forgive her now.” Luka scowled and tossed a throw pillow at her. “Considering we paid for these apartments with the money from that album.”

“There’s no amount of money that can make up for what she put you through,” Juleka groused.

“Come on Jule, she was your friend.”

“She was, until you went and fell in love with her like an idiot and she broke your heart.” Juleka looked at him and rolled her eyes with a sigh that meant she was giving up. “But you’re obviously going to date her whether I think it’s a good idea or not, so I’ll save my breath.” She pushed off the couch and dumped his guitar on his stomach.

“I sure as hell am,” Luka agreed happily, and Juleka groaned as she opened the door to go back across the hall to her own apartment.

“You’re disgusting, you know that right?” she called, and the door slammed before he could answer her.

Luka rolled his eyes and pulled the guitar into place, strumming lightly as he grinned at the ceiling.

#quickspins #backlog #second chance #lukanette #luka couffaine #i am lukanette trash i admit it #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #mlfics

32 notes · View notes

moonstruckbucky · 4 years

Text

Rant Fest

So for the past couple of months, my “in-laws” (we’ll call them that even though my SO and I aren’t married *whispers* yet) have been driving me up a wall and then some.

His mom? Super sweet, loving... but a helicopter. And I don’t mean one of those dinky little news helicopters. I’m talking full-out military style, equipped with heat-seeking missiles kind of helicopter. She hovers a lot. Calls my SO multiple times a day, for no real good reason at all except to check up on him. Mind, he’s 30 - he’s a big boy.

Things have been a little stagnant for him since he had his seizure two months ago - he’s stranded without a car (totaled in the accident) and without a license (if you have a seizure MA state law dictates you automatically surrender your license for 6 months). So he’s been getting rides from her when he needs to, or his grandmother.

(Gonna throw a read more on this puppy. We now resume our regular scheduled dash scrolling).

Anyway. Besides the hovering, which has undoubtedly gotten worse since his accident, she gets a little too touchy with him that bothers me. Pinching his behind (again - he’s 30), and just all over him in general. I get because he’s the first born, she’s probably super attached to him - plus, he fell 15 or so feet when he was 2, so we think that’s what spurred her hovering because at the time I don’t think she was watching him; he ended up spending two weeks in the hospital after bonking his head. She doesn’t really act like this with her youngest son, who’s a year older than me at 28, but because he’s had issues with drugs/drinking in the past, she hovers over him too and clearly doesn’t trust him all that much.

Which, not that it’s my business, I have a problem with, because she isn’t giving him the chance to earn her trust back at all.

Then came Baxter, our one year old lab pup, who we got for free because we studded out our 6 year old male to a guy who’d grown up breeding coonhounds - so a responsible breeder. We took him home over Labor Day weekend last year. From the get-go she was all over us about training him, and what we should or shouldn’t do. A little note: I have my Associate’s in animal care, had to take hours of classes on dog training and behavior, so I like to think I know my shit about dogs, okay? Okay. It bothered the fuck out of me.

Cut to less than a month later, Nick’s grandmother gets out of bed in the middle of the night, takes a wrong turn and ends up falling down the stairs. Breaks her fingers on one hand and doing some other damage to her other arm.

First thing out of his mom’s mouth? “Did she trip over that dog?” I was livid. As if she couldn’t trust that we’d keep Baxter with us in his room at night - he was fast asleep when this happened. Even Nick (SO) was annoyed that she’d asked that.

Jump to this past weekend, and here’s a long background to this event.

About two months ago, Nick’s brother and his ex - not even his girlfriend anymore - decided they were going to get a puppy. Now, I think it was Jake’s idea to get the dog, and then the ex just maybe saw an opportunity to stick around, and voila, their puppy.

Who is a backyard bred pit bull puppy bred by a guy either by accidental pregnancy or because he “just wanted to try and breed his dogs”. Either way, these are key signs of an irresponsible breeder. Next sign? The fact he told them both they could take him at 5 weeks of age. When the normal age to take home dogs is 7-8 weeks. We took Bax home at 7 weeks. So not only is he missing out on crucial socialization skills such as bite inhibition and when to cool his jets with corrections from mom, but he’s incredibly small, the runt probably. And then begin the seizures. 5 week old puppy is now on anti-seizure meds - the same ones Nick is on actually.

What’s worse? Jake and his ex didn’t even pay for the fucking dog - Nick did, because Jake didn’t have the money. Makes me wonder how the fuck they’re paying vet fees for a sick dog.

You angry yet?

Jump to a few weeks later. This puppy is a fucking menace. Has zero bite inhibition and those puppy teeth are like razors. He was actually fucking vicious about it as well. Would only let you pet him so he could turn and nail you. Even. Worse? His “parents” encouraged this fucking behavior! Every time he began biting people, even if he was in someone else’s arms, “mom” would take him from them and cuddle him - thus, if you know a little about dog training, is seen as a reward by the dog. Even when I put him down on the floor when he started biting, she picked him up and cuddled him while trying to tell him “no”.

It doesn’t fucking work like that.

So you’ll understand why I get nervous as he gets bigger around Baxter. Having the reputation pits do (I don’t hate them; I just think not everyone should be allowed to own them if they’re not going to take training seriously - and even then, you can’t guarantee they won’t display some genetic aggression later in life), and I brought it to Nick. He’s convinced they’ll “be fine”, and frankly, I don’t want to take that risk because Baxter? Is a softie. He’s a wimp (sorry bubba, but you are), and he won’t stand up for himself - and I don’t want him to be in that position with another dog’s teeth in his neck, where he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. Because by the time he figures it out, he might be dead (I’m gonna cry just thinking of that possibility).

So I keep an eye on them when they play. Jump to this weekend. The whole point of this rant. Sundays are for family dinner, and the puppy usually accompanies his parents. Why the ex still comes to fucking family dinner, I have no idea - she was his plus one to his sister’s wedding, which multiple people thought was fucking weird, myself included. Anyway, our boys are blocked off from the kitchen while we eat so the puppy can roam and we can keep an eye on him.

Then after dinner we let everyone in the kitchen. Well, Hydro (the 6 year old and Baxter’s father/sire) is at the table looking for scraps (bad habit, I know) when the puppy wanders over.

Now, let me mention this: Hydro was trained and raised as a hunting dog, so while he is socialized, he isn’t a very social dog with other dogs or even strange people. When Baxter was a puppy learning about boundaries, he pushed Hydro too far, and Hydro nailed him - picked him up by the head and tossed him. Baxter was fine, but he kind of got the gist. I was concerned, but at the same time I know it’s how a dog communicates enough is enough. Baxter still pushes boundaries but he’s a jerk like that. It isn’t for lack of trying.

So, puppy wanders over to Hydro, who gives a low warning growl to tell him he’s too close, he needs to back off. Adult dogs don’t very much like puppies to begin with because they have absolutely no manners. It’s crucial in dog development for them to be able to be taught by older dogs in their own way what is right and what is wrong.

Well, puppy made a wrong move not backing off, and Hydro snarled and snapped his teeth at him. He ended up catching him on the snout. Puppy starts screaming because he probably hasn’t had a dog do this before, and it’s bedlam. Hydro ducks under the table thinking he’s going to be punished for communicating in a way the puppy will understand. “Mom” scoops up the puppy, in goddamn tears (fucking please), acting like Hydro just tried to maul him. I’m watching this whole thing happen trying not to roll my eyes at everyone losing their minds.

I feel terrible for Hydro, so I’m the only one (even Nick wasn’t assuring him he wasn’t a bad dog right away, and that dog is attached to his hip) worried about Hydro. So I give him love and attention and tell him he’s okay, he’s not a bad dog. You can’t punish a dog for communicating that he’s had enough, for setting his own boundaries - and “mom” coddling the puppy isn’t helping him either, but he did learn. He was a little nervous about Baxter approaching him, but I’m glad his instinct wasn’t to bite. Had Hydro wanted to hurt him, he would have.

The puppy has to learn - even Baxter was trying to get away from him and everyone was just letting the puppy leap at him. Now granted, I read this morning you shouldn’t do that - if your older dog is trying to get away, you need to separate them.

Anyway, the family, besides Nana and Nick, kept giving Hydro wary glances every time he entered the room in case he was going to just up and attack the puppy. Which pissed me off.

What made it worse? Nick’s mother claiming Hydro wasn’t “socialized”, and the fourth time she said it, I corrected her with, “He’s socialized just fine. The puppy has to learn that dogs have boundaries. Not all of them are going to be like Baxter.”

(Spoiler alert: he would’ve learned this had he been allowed to stay with mom those extra 3 weeks)

So I’ve come to the decision that when Nick and I move to Maine next year, the dogs are staying home, and I’ll be minimizing contact between them. I don’t trust at all that they’re going to take the puppy’s training seriously, especially for a breed that’s so stigmatized like pit bulls. 7% of the dog population and they’re number 1 in fatalities? There’s something wrong there.

Anyway, this is my giant rant that’s been building up.

OH, and when we move to Maine, I’m going to do a happy dance because it means Nick’s mom can’t drop in unexpectedly all the fucking time and disrupt my domestic life. I can’t wait.

Uh, yeah, so y’all asked for it and here it is. Go wild on feedback, thoughts, agreements, whatever.

#personal #in laws #dogs #dog training

39 notes · View notes

gretvvvnfleet · 5 years

Text

Familiar Faces

Josh Kiszka x Fem Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Living in a big and busy home, you get stuck working the weekend shift at the family shop where you have a run-in with an old high school classmate.

A/N: I know I’ve been a stranger on here for a while but I promise my break is over and I’m back and better than ever. I’ve been getting back into writing so any requests/suggestions are always welcome (sorry if this is shite :0

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“y/n!”

You’re jolted awake from sleep with your face smashed against your pillow. You weren’t sure if it was someone in your dream calling for you or a family member downstairs. You waited a few moments before closing your eyes again and tried to drift back off to sleep.

“Y/N!” your dad boomed from just outside your room, followed by the pounding of his fist against your bedroom door. You groaned and rolled over in bed to catch a glimpse of the clock sitting on the bedside table. It was only seven in the morning and a Saturday. If you rolled your eyes any harder they might have gotten stuck in the back of your head.

You got up and wiped the damp drool from your cheek, sitting on the edge of your bed to force a good mood upon yourself before you went downstairs to face the family. Trudging along down the steps you made your way into the kitchen, the smell of burning toast and roasted coffee overwhelming your senses.

“Finally, the princess is up”, your older brother, Robert, teased.

“Shove it, Rob”, you plop yourself down into the only open seat around the kitchen table as the plates and mugs got passed out from your mom maneuvering around your dad and five brothers.

“Behave, all of you. I’ll be back before dinner”, your mother planted a kiss on each head around the table and headed towards the door, “everyone better eat something! You’re all busy today”, and with the door slamming shut, breakfast commenced.

“What’s happening today?” you leaned over to your younger brother, Gabe, who had filled his plate with a mound of sausage and bacon.

“I got baseball camp; Jimmy says he’s had this boys trip to the lake planned for weeks; Robert has to take the truck in for the repairs; Dad’s taking Ollie to Nan’s for a bit so he can go into town for the latest camera shipment”, Gabe said through a mouth stuffed with food.

“I thought I was watching Ollie today?” you looked up towards your dad across the table, who instinctively avoided your gaze and took a hard sip at his coffee.

“I need you in the shop today, sweetheart,” he leaned towards Ollie in his highchair and started wiping the mess from the baby’s hands.

“I thought Nate was in shop today! I was going to make plans with Mags later”, you groaned.

“I got a study session with Karen from third period today, sorry sis”, Nate smirked into his bowl of cereal and received a hard smack to the back of his head from Jimmy beside him.

"Oh, a study session, I’m so sure”, you mocked and rolled your eyes, moving your head to your fist, poking at the food on your plate.

“Don’t forget to get there by 7:45 so you can turn everything on in time for opening.” your dad got up from his chair and started to clear his place on the table.

“Got it”, you kept your face towards your plate.

“And the printer might be running out of ink. You remember how to reload it?”

“Yeah dad”, you laughed in a slight tone of annoyance.

“And someone might be coming in today for come poster prints. Give him a discount, I think it’s that Kisz-”

“Okay! I got it”, you got up from the table and put your utensils into the sink.

“I dunno, dad, she might be too grouchy for the customers today”, Jimmy mumbled into his mug. You walked towards him and grabbed a newspaper off the counter beside him, smacking him over the head.

“She’s fine”, he gave your brother a disapproving look. “Y/n, it shouldn’t be too crazy today, but you know I’m always a call away if you need any help, okay?” He planted a kiss on your head before retrieving Ollie from his highchair and headed for the front door. “Bye kids! BEHAVE”, your dad called out once more before closing the front door behind him.

“Bye dad”, each of you called out. And like clockwork, you and each brother began clearing their place from the table and began dunking plates and silverware into the sink.

“Jimmy, make sure Gabe makes it to baseball camp before you head off for the weekend, I’ll get him after I’m done with the truck. Y/n, I can drop you off at the shop on my way. Nate... watch yourself today,” Robert gave out the orders as everyone scattered throughout the house to get ready for the day.

You dragged yourself upstairs to change for the long day ahead. Jean shorts and a hand-me-down band t-shirt from Robert would do just fine. You put your hair up into a ponytail and grabbed your high top converse before rushing back downstairs to get into the car in time to leave.

The ride was only a short 10 minutes from the house, but drives with Robert always seemed short anyways. He had a genuine way with words and always had an aura about him that calmed your nerves from being in the crazy house. It helped that he was the oldest and most mature of all your brothers, but he was, without a doubt, your favorite.

“If you need anything, call me. I’ll just be in town at Edd’s”, he let you off at the front of the shop. “and try not to burn anything down”, he winked.

“Thanks Rob. I’ll see you later,” you rolled your eyes and closed the truck door, turning to the shop. With two quick honks of acknowledgement, Robert drove off down the road.

You lifted the key ring to the glass and opened the front door, setting off the alarm instantly in the back of the shop. Punching in the code, the alarm went off and only the soft hum of the overhead lights could be heard throughout the building. It wasn’t a huge establishment, you could see straight to the front from where you stood in the back. There was a glass counter in the front that held all the valuables and newest models of cameras. Other than that, only a few shelves on the main floor filled the void and any machinery for prints were held in a room off to the side through an archway behind the counter.

Like predicted, the day was extremely slow. A couple people came in and out every couple hours but nothing serious and no new orders were ever placed. A hipster couple that recognized you from school came in to say hi for a short bit before quickly leaving for the coffee shop next door.

You went into the side room to look through the order your dad had mentioned that morning. Sitting on the table beside the printer was a large packaged poster roll and a big yellow envelope stuffed with prints. You tried to read over the receipt but your dad’s handwriting was so illegible you couldn’t make out the name and thought you should tell your dad to become a doctor. Just as you were about to peek into the envelope, the bells at the top of the front door jingled to signal that someone had come into the shop.

Going back through the archway, you saw a young man with a tuft of curly hair leaning down by a shelf in the middle of the store, looking at some of the frames.

“Hi,” you called out. He immediately got up and smiled the most radiant smile you had ever seen on a human being. A dimple adorned his cheek as he swayed over to the counter. He looked so familiar yet so foreign to you, and a surge of emotions swam through your head. “H-how can I help you”, you felt the heat burn your cheeks as you heard the stutter escape your lips when you spoke.

“Hey, I’m just here to pick up an order for Josh,” he spoke with such eloquence it was almost unbearable. Yet, the more he spoke, the more familiar he became.

“Sure, just give me a second”, you awkwardly laughed and turned back through the archway and around the corner to get out of sight from the counter. Josh? Why was that so familiar? Of course it was a common name, but HE seemed so familiar. You went back to the poster roll and yellow envelope on the table and took a last look at it. Scanning over the paper taped to the top of the envelope, your eyes reached the only eligible words among your father’s chicken scratch. Order Comments: BAND FLIERS/POSTER

Your heart jumped down to your gut as your brain finally made the most obvious connection known to man. Josh... Kiszka... from Greta Van Fleet. Of course he looked familiar, his face was everywhere within your hometown. His brothers and a close friend made up one of the fastest growing bands from Frankenmuth. He was popular throughout your high school and all the girls loved him. He had this aura about him that seemed like he could brighten your day in a matter of seconds. He was a joy to be around.

You could feel your ears getting hot and armpits itchy as you got nervous to return to the front of the shop. All you had to do was hand him the envelope and get his signature for the receipt, how hard could it be?

You returned through the archway with the order in your arms and a forced smile upon your face. You clumsily dropped everything upon the counter and pushed your body against the edge to keep the poster from rolling onto the floor.

“Sorry it’s such an awkward order size”, Josh laughed. He moved the envelope on the counter to the side to make room for the receipt you placed down in front of him.

“No worries”, you let out a breathy laugh, “just sign here at the bottom”. You handed him a pen. He started scratching it against the paper, but no ink was coming from it.

“I think this one’s all out, you got another?” he asked. He straightened up from the paper and looked into your eyes with his gorgeous orbs. You seemed locked in place and nearly forgot what he asked.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that”, you turned to try and find a pen you thought you left on the counter but there wasn’t one within reach. You walked a few steps to a drawer beneath the counter and rummaged for a pen.

“Hey, I could be wrong, but do I know you from somewhere?” he called out, leaning his body over the counter and looking at you. You froze within the drawer and felt your heartbeat pounding within your skull. You straightened up and turned slowly, not revealing your face fully in his direction.

“Ha, uh, no I don’t think so. You must have me mistaken for someone else”, you laughed it off, returning quickly to the drawer to find a fucking pen already.

“Hmm... no I think I remember you...” he rested his cheek on his hand, thinking hard while watching you rummage into another drawer. “Oh! I know, Creative Writing, fourth period”, he bumped his fist against the counter, pleased with himself for remembering. And he was right. It was your junior year, his senior year. You had gotten the clear from your English teacher to take the seniors only Creative Writing class because of your outstanding skill level. You had always loved that class for many reasons, and you had always admired Josh’s work even more.

“Oh.. yeah! You’re right ha ha, sorry it’s been so long”, you lied. You had only just finished your first year of college and if you remember anything from junior year, or high school in general, it was that Creative Writing class.

“Y/n, wasn’t it?” he smiled at you, still resting his cheek against his hand. He had you hooked and he knew it.

“Yeah, that’s me”, you could feel yourself blushing severely as you looked back in his direction, feeling the butterflies jump and swirl at his flirtatious smirk. “I didn’t think you’d remember me, you being famous and all now”, you teased. You didn’t know what came over you, but you knew for sure that two could play at this game. You straightened up and started to make your way back towards him still leaning over the counter.

“Of course I remember you, y/n. You had that carnation tattoo on your wrist that I always loved”, he eyed your wrist that rested on the counter and smiled at the flower that was inked delicately into your skin. “What kind of famous snob do you take me for?” he smirked up at you. Your heart was now going a mile a minute and you did your best to keep a cool composure.

“I wouldn’t know, you boys never come around here anymore, busy touring the world and all”, you rolled your eyes and he laughed. It rang throughout and the shop and you could feel a giggle form from within your chest. He was truly captivated by you, like old friends who had never lost connection.

“Oh here we go, you’re teasing me, y/n”, he jumped up from the counter and put his hands behind his head, pacing a few steps to catch his breath. “You never did like me, did you?” he teased back.

“What?” you gasped. You truly couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. And you couldn’t decide if you wanted to tell him the truth or not. Of course you liked him, who didn’t? “How could I not have liked THE Josh Kiszka? Now famous front man!” you threw your hand up to your forehead and fluttered your eyes, mimicking a faint. He only rolled his eyes in laughter at your gestures.

“Jeeze, y/n, I knew you were confident, but god damn you’re playing with my heartstrings here”, he gripped at his chest and then dramatically threw himself down onto the counter, head in his arms folded beneath him. You marveled at the fact that you seemed irresistible to him. A wave of excitement came over you at the thought of him playing into your game, knowing that it was exactly what he had been doing to you. If living in a household full of boys taught you anything, it was how to stay on guard and not give in to anyone so easily, while also having a mischievous undertone to the flirting game.

“Things have changed since you left this small town, huh Joshua?” You laughed and tousled his hair upon his head. His ears perked at the sound of his full name leaving your lips and you crossed your arms and smirked defiantly, knowing you had caught Josh off guard.

“Well if you’re just going to stand here and poke fun, I’d rather just go on my merry way”, he lifted his head up to look into your eyes and raised an eyebrow at you with a little pout forming upon his lips.

“Well I’d love to let you go but I need to get you a pen, let me check the back”, you started again for the archway before he caught your wrist in his hand and turned you back towards him.

“No need, I got one right here”, he pulled a pen from behind his ear that was hidden within his mass of curls. With a wink, he let go of your wrist and returned to the paper on the counter, signing his name. You were blushing severely at this point and were trying with every force within you to keep from giggling like an idiot. How, after all this time and distance, had he managed to keep his same hook on you from those years long ago, with the same composure and suave personality he always seemed to have.

“You had a pen this whole time”, you rolled your eyes and leaned into the counter, watching his hand glide across the page.

“I always liked listening to you talk, y/n, you know that”, his eyes never left the page but you could hear his words change as a smirk spread across his face. Your thoughts rushed back to the same creative writing class, how you admired his every word, and he did the same for you. You never thought it meant anything, the way he would hone in all attention to your words when you had to present to the class. You just assumed he was an attentive and active listener, unlike the majority of the class. And you would do the same for him, eyes eager to catch his while he would read his work out loud. Every word seemed to spill from deep within his soul, everything with purpose and meaning.

“I didn’t think you were ever listening so closely”, you forced a laugh, rubbing your arm across your body.

He finished signing and clicked the pen closed before returning it to its former place behind his ear. You slid the paper back across the counter and dropped it in a bin behind the counter to file later for records.

“You were always worth listening to”, he smiled gently. You looked down at your shoes and moved a stray hair from your face behind your ear.

“Well if there’s ever any other band prints we can help you with, you know who to call”, you internally cringed at the professionalism you were so used to reciting with other customers. He laughed and fidgeted with the envelope within his hands.

“Yeah, will do”, he smiled but it soon faded into a face of deep thought as his eyes stuck to the counter. It seemed that he wanted to say more but the silence began to fall heavy between the both of you as there wasn’t more left to say.

“And don’t be a stranger to Frankenmuth, okay? You and the rest of the boys”, you laughed pushing on his shoulder, causing him to snap out of his thought and gain life back into his face. “And maybe I’ll see you at a show sometime soon, if you would just let me know the next time you-”

“I’m sorry, y/n...Can I kiss you?”

#familiar faces #josh kiszka #fanfic #Greta Van Fleet #writing

52 notes · View notes