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flowerfan2 · 3 years

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David x Patrick - Angst-fest with lots of cuddles and h/c reunion fic.

Summary - Being stuck in the Milwaukee airport is bad enough. Then David realizes that the man who broke his heart is sitting right next to him. After a rom-com worthy reunion, David decides he’s not going to walk away again.

Chapter 10 (spoiler - Stevie shows up). A03.

Patrick really does make David keep his arms around him there in the booth at the diner for an inordinate amount of time. He knows that David can’t hug his issues away, and it isn’t fair of Patrick to expect him to. Patrick is going to take ownership of this, and do something about it. But even though he knows he has to do it himself, it’s also very scary. And letting himself come to terms with his own revelation is just easier to do with his face in the crook of David’s neck.

They finally separate, and bicker amiably about the check, David sneaking off while Patrick is in the bathroom to order extra muffins to take home and hand over his credit card. Patrick doesn’t much care for the reminder that he’s unemployed, but David does have a point that he’s living in Patrick’s house at the moment – his parents’ house, but still. And it seems to make David feel good to treat Patrick, and if there’s anything Patrick can get behind right now, it’s doing everything he can to make this work.

Unfortunately, when they pull up to the house to the sight of a beat up red sedan with an Ontario license plate, Patrick’s heart sinks.

“Patrick? You said your parents wouldn’t be here until January. They’re very early.”

“That’s not my parents.”

“Well, it’s not Doordash. As much as I’d applaud planning ahead for dinner, they’re unlikely to have driven all the way from Canada. Who’s in your driveway?” David’s voice is rising, and Patrick is entirely too familiar with his agitated-bordering-on-panicked tone.

“David, don’t be upset.” Patrick shuts off the car and turns towards David.

“Mmkay, those words usually come before something that’s going to make me upset.”

They get out of the car but before Patrick even makes it to the front door, it opens and Stevie comes out.

David turns to Patrick, a look of betrayal on his face. “I can’t believe you did this to me,” he hisses.

“Hi to you too,” Stevie says, her voice flat. “And don’t you dare blame Patrick, he didn’t do anything.”

“Well I sure didn’t invite you down here.”

“Right, my presence is unwanted, I get that, believe me,” Stevie says. “But some of us have a job to do-”

“Don’t you dare come at me about work, Stevie, I’m on vacation.”

“And if you had just told me that at the beginning of the week, instead of playing hard to get like a god damned asshole-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Patrick finds himself next to David, a hand on his shoulder, glaring at Stevie. He can feel David trembling under his palm.

“Yeah, like any of this is my fault,” Stevie mumbles. She’s wearing a familiar flannel over a v-neck t-shirt, but the look on her face is like nothing Patrick has ever seen before. It’s a deep hurt, and when he turns to look at David, he sees it there as well. This has got to stop.

“Could we maybe go inside?” Patrick asks, sliding his hand down David’s body to the small of his back, bringing them closer together. It’s not raining as hard as it was this morning, but the misty drizzle certainly isn’t helping the situation.

David disappears briefly when they get indoors. “How did you even get into the house?” Patrick asks Stevie, still trying to figure out how to manage this situation.

“The spare key was in a fake turtle next to the front door, it wasn’t exactly hard.”

Patrick resolves to have another conversation with his parents about security, although he supposes their approach is slightly better than their previous practice of leaving the key under the mat.

David returns a few moments later with a different black sweater on, the hood pulled up over his head. He looks miserable. Patrick wishes they could go back to the diner and stay there forever, arms around each other and the aroma of pancakes all around them. His instincts in that regard were apparently spot on.

“Tell me why you’re here,” David says to Stevie, a hand on his hip.

Stevie backs up a step into the kitchen, fiddling with a tea towel that says “Livin’ the Dream” on it in flowery aqua script. She looks cornered. Patrick considers encouraging them all to sit down and have a cup of tea first, like a scene from a British novel.

“Rose Motel Group is always evaluating new territories for growing the business,” Stevie says. “Since you declared your interest in the southeast U.S., your father suggested I come down here and check it out.”

“That’s ridiculous, I only talked to him about it a few days ago.”

“It was actually the next territory on our list, after mid-Atlantic coastal, he just moved it up.”

“That’s still ridiculous,” David mutters, looking to Patrick for confirmation. “We hardly do any business in the U.S.”

“We do, we have a dozen motels in upstate New York and New England, and you’d know that if you ever attended the management meetings instead of pretending that your wi-fi has mysteriously gone out. A middle schooler is better at zoom than you are.”

“Zoom meetings give me migraines.”

“That’ll be a real advantage now that you’re working remotely.”

“Is that what this is about? I’m not on the moon, Stevie, I’m just in Florida. It’s hardly going to interfere with my ability to place orders with the same two dozen vendors I’ve been working with for years.”

Patrick finally forces himself to move, stepping in between them. “How about some tea?”

This causes both David and Stevie to freeze and blink at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Go on, go sit down,” Patrick waves them towards the living room.

They take up seats on the opposite ends of the couch, hesitantly facing each other like nervous cats. Patrick never really got to the bottom of what happened between them after his and David’s break-up. He has a feeling that he’s about to find out.

He busies himself making tea, getting the kettle out of the cabinet and filling it with water and searching in the cabinets for the tea bags and sugar. But the living room is only a few feet away, and he can hear the silence stretch until Stevie finally speaks up.

“You look good,” she says to David – and Patrick nearly drops the kettle, he’s so surprised to hear these words come out of Stevie’s mouth at this point.

“Thanks,” David says, sounding oddly flattered. “So do you.”

“When was the last time we saw each other?” Stevie asks. “Last Christmas?”

“The RMG holiday party,” David agrees. “Almost a year ago.”

“How’s Alexis?”

Patrick doesn’t understand how they went from biting each other’s heads off to awkward small talk.

“She’s okay. She needs more clients, but she seems happy enough.”

A pause, and then - “David, if you and Patrick are going to be back together, maybe you and I can-”

“Don’t.” The suddenly bitter tone in David’s voice pulls at Patrick’s heart.

“But-”

“Give it up, Stevie. It’s too late.”

“Why, exactly? Come on, David, I’m the least emotionally mature person I know, after you of course, and even I can see that we don’t need to do this anymore.”

“What, I’m just supposed to ask you to forgive me and we’d be friends again, just like that?”

“You could try it. And maybe tell me why you cut me off in the first place.”

“It’s better if we just stick to business.” David stands up and starts pacing. There’s not much space in the living room, between the couch and the armchair and the coffee table. It cramps his style. “That was going fine, at least until you showed up here.”

“Fine? How is it fine, that we went from being best friends-” Stevie’s voice catches, “to colleagues who only talk when Mr. Rose needs me to get vendor information from you? How is that fine?”

“I don’t know how this is going to end up,” David says, waving his hands. “I’ll probably fuck it up again somehow. No matter how hard I try, that’s always what happens. I don’t want to, I really don’t want to, but I’m very familiar with my life, Stevie. I ruin everything.”

Patrick realizes with a pang that David is talking about the two of them.

“And when I do,” David goes on, “Patrick’s still going to need you. I’m not taking that away from him. I gave you to him, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Stevie says, her voice going even quieter. In Patrick’s experience, this indicates that she is truly furious. “You can’t give me to someone.”

“I had Alexis. Patrick didn’t have anyone. He even lost the store. He needed you more than I did. I couldn’t take you away from him.”

“Did it never occur to you,” Stevie says, snapping out each word, “that I might want a say in the matter? That I might not want to lose either of you? That maybe, I don’t know, I could stay friends with you both?”

“That’s not how it works in a break-up, and you know it. Everyone chooses sides. I needed you to choose Patrick.”

“So you ditched our friendship and stopped returning my calls so I would take Patrick’s side?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the time!” David yells, and Patrick feels like his heart beats out of his chest with pain as David deflates, his head in his hands. “I just needed you to be there for him,” he says softly.

“You really are a fuck-up, David Rose,” Stevie says, her voice calmer. “But I’m going to be the bigger person here, and not let you fuck this up any more.”

Stevie stands up and moves over to David, who reluctantly takes his hands away from his face to watch her approach. As he looks around, David catches Patrick watching them. His eyes grow wide as he realizes that their conversation has been overheard, and he grabs Stevie’s arm, rapidly ushering her out the front door.

“What the hell, David?” Stevie protests, but she goes along with him.

Patrick watches through the kitchen window, unable to drag his eyes away. David and Stevie are standing near the end of the driveway, and he can see David’s hands waving, and Stevie shaking her head at him. Then Stevie drags David into a hug, holding him tight as he squirms before accepting it. David’s head finally drops onto her shoulder, and they stay that way for a long moment. When they pull apart, Stevie punches him – fondly? – on the chest, then gets into her car and drives away.

Patrick goes outside, joining David at the end of the driveway as they watch Stevie’s car go around the corner.

“She has an appointment at a motel,” David says. “She’ll be back in time for dinner. She told me to order Thai, and get both kinds of satays.” David seems almost stunned at how he’s able to talk about Stevie like this now.

Patrick puts a hand on David’s shoulder. “You okay?”

David shakes himself, looking skyward and then back off in the direction of the road. “A little… fizzy.”

It’s not a word Patrick’s heard David use before to describe his state, but Patrick thinks he gets it.

“Too much emotion?”

David glares a little at Patrick.

“I’m going to make it worse,” Patrick says, biting back a smile as David’s glare intensifies.

“I really don’t need that right now.” David takes Patrick’s hand from his shoulder and holds it firmly, walking them back into the house. This time Patrick actually closes the door behind them, and then turns to David, who is fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater, pulling them down over his fingers.

“David.” Patrick catches his gaze. “It takes two people to tank a relationship.”

“Sure.”

“No, really – what happened between us was my fault, too. You know that. You can’t take it all on yourself. And it’s not all on you to make it work this time, either.”

David purses his lips, looking down at the floor.

“Hey.” Patrick moves closer, his hands squeezing David’s shoulders. “I’m in this, too. As hard as you’re going to try not to fuck this up, I’ll be right there with you, okay? This is important to me, too. Really important.”

David nods several times in succession.

“And there’s one more thing.”

David glances at him. “What?”

“I don’t agree with your methods, but…” His mind flashes back to those days and weeks after their break-up, when it hurt just to breathe, when he was so lost and miserable, save for a friend who showed up with whiskey and ice cream and helped him through it.

“But what?”

“You gave me Stevie,” Patrick says, gratitude in his voice. After Patrick broke David’s heart, David gave up his best friend because he still cared about Patrick and didn’t want him to be alone. That’s not nothing, he hears in David’s voice.

“Are you going to lecture me about that too?”

“No. I should, but – nope.”

David looks at him, his gaze open and disbelieving.

“And probably Stevie would say she can take care of herself on this point.”

A smile creeps into David’s cheek. “Hmmph.”

“Instead,” Patrick pushes David up against the kitchen island and cups his face in his hands, “I’m just going to say one thing.”

“What’s that?” David asks, his eyes alight.

“I love you, too.”

#David x Patrick #Schitt's Creek #Schitt's Creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #SC #SC fic #Schitt's Creek fanfic #Schitt's Creek fanfiction #Stevie Budd

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heyhilana · 4 years

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Summary: This is prompt #14 with Whiskey. “Flirting with disaster?” WEAK catch me sucking it’s dick in a dirty bar bathroom after ten shots of tequila.

A/N: So i’ll be doing both of these! I like both of these prompts so much with these characters and this will also be my first take at writing something for catfish! They will be in separate posts so this way it’s not just all crammed into one post. If you want to request another prompt, here’s the link. I do hope that you like my take on lots of dialogue. I am usually a writer that is more detail-oriented rather than a writer that’s heavy on the dialogue but I wanted to try something new. Also, I made Tequila to be a bit of a jerk in here so I am sorry about that. :( I hope this is still appreciated all the same!

tagging: @agirllovespasta :)

You were wondering why you had come out to drink with your co-workers since the time you had left your place and locked the door. Staying in and sleeping in your bed earlier than most people would seemed to be like heaven for you instead of coming out and throwing back one too many drinks to erase the memories of this past week.

But the thought of seeing Jack at the bar, a place where all protocol for work could be thrown out the window for once was what made you crawl out of your bed. Sure, you guys could have just chosen to have a drink at Statesmen because the front was a distillery after all. But a bar seemed to be less stressful for you and your group of colleagues for a Friday night.

Before you knew it, you were talking up a storm with Jack, Tequila, and Ginger as the rounds of drinks came and went. As you kept drinking, you felt as though the stress that was weighing you down was lifting away for once. Tequila and Ginger we’re keeping the conversation going with their endless banter while you and Jack would only chime in every once in a while when the two of you felt that it was necessary.

Jack seemed to be the most relaxed and he was enjoying your presence. He laughed at your silly jokes that you would only come up with while you were intoxicated. Often enough, they made no sense to a person that was sober but for him, they were the funniest thing on Earth. He admired the funny nature that you had exhibited the day you two had met and he couldn’t be more elated to see it in action due to the effects of the alcohol that was coursing through your body.

Jack wouldn’t take his eyes off you no matter what it was that you were doing. He was thinking about how the dim lights in the bar were complimenting your skin so well, how it always captured the warmth that you had. He was taking sneak glances at your outfit, wondering how you could look so beautiful and literally just take his breath away. He was touching you a little more than friends should do. The casual touch on the arm that would linger longer than it should have, fingers grazing alongside one another by “accident.” It was somewhat aligned with Jack’s flirty nature but he wasn’t sure with how far he should go with this. He could only assume that you were enjoying this in some way, and he was right.

You would laugh at all of his mishaps that he had in his early Statemen days that you didn’t think a pro like him would’ve done. It was nice to know that even the best of agents were flawed in some way. The southern charm that he exhibited was making you smile harder than before because he always knew what to say to you.

And like Jack, you couldn’t help yourself with looking into his eyes a little longer than friends should do. They were the perfect shade of honey brown that complimented his locks of hair that were tucked away in that black Stetson hat of his that only he could pull off. You were eyeing his outfit as well, wondering how he could look so handsome without even trying. A classic denim jacket and a beige button-up shirt paired with his famous tight jeans that you were sure no one else could wear. You were enjoying the “innocent” touches that Jack was giving you, almost leaning into his touch a few times without really thinking about it because why would you move away from something that felt so good?

It was all bordering a line of just friends and going over the edge but the alcohol that was coursing through both of your bodies seemed to throw all logic and reasoning out the window. And even though logic and reasoning was both you and Jack’s expertise due to the nature of your work, the small flame that turned into a full-fledged fire that was burning between the two of you was far more enticing to act on rather than do what was right.

“So, y/n, what did convince you to come out tonight?” Tequila shifted the conversation into your direction, and you weren’t sure as to how you should answer his question. Answering it along the lines of admitting that you only ditched your bed and snacks for Jack didn’t seem all that promising for you. But you had to answer because all their eyes were on you, and with knowing that Jack was eyeing you as he awaited your answer was enough to cause your nerves to skyrocket.

“Well, I figured that there was no harm in coming out for once. Sometimes we have to try something new every once and a while, right?” You had hoped that your answer was convincing, but Tequila didn’t buy it. Before he could object, Ginger cut in.

“Tequila, why don’t you and Jack get us some drinks? I think me and y/n could use another refill.” If you could’ve thanked Ginger for the rest of your life for saving your ass from Tequila’s never-ending questions you would do it no questions asked. Tequila eyed the two of you, but he said nothing. Jack was uncharacteristically quiet at this moment but he got up with Tequila to get more drinks. Once they were lost in the crowd, Ginger brought her eyes to you and you knew what was in store for you.

“Y/N, tell me something. How on Earth were you going to get yourself out of that?”

You rolled your eyes. “I had it under control.”

“I had it under control my ass,” The sarcasm was dripping in her tone as she rolled her eyes at you. “Why didn’t you just tell the truth?”

You sighed over her back-to-back questions. “You know why. I can’t just tell the whole table that I only came out because Jack was going to be here with him actually sitting at the table waiting for my answer.”

“Oh. So you can’t admit to the table why you came out here tonight, but you can sit here and continue with flirting with disaster?” Ginger caught you in a tight space and you were starting to wonder if it would’ve been easier to deal with Tequila’s questions over Ginger’s.

“I am not flirting with disaster. But if I was, you would’ve caught me sucking his dick in a dirty bar bathroom after ten shots of tequila.” You thought that you were in the clear as you knew that Ginger couldn’t come up with a better comeback but you knew you were wrong once you saw that Jack and Tequila had come back just in time to hear what it was that you had to say.

“Well I’ll be glad to hear that someone’s in the mood for the best drink that a person could have,” Tequila wasted no time in bragging over how his name in Statesmen was supposedly better than everyone else’s as he set down the drinks. “And who would that gentleman be?” He let a smirk grow on his face since he knew that you were getting closer to telling the truth that you were avoiding when he asked his first question. Jack was watching you meticulously as he went back to his seat. His heart was beating out of his chest because he knew that your answer would either be the one that he was waiting for or the one that he would hate to hear.

“A gentleman that you don’t need to know.” You replied curtly. You could see the smirk on Tequila’s face falter a bit and Jack was letting his fingers drum against the wood table. Ginger was quiet, not knowing what to say to help with the situation and partly intrigued by how you were going to get yourself out of this mess.

“It sounds like this is about a gentleman that I know very well,” It was almost like Tequila was egging you on so to speak, and you weren’t sure if you should take the bait.

“If you’re so sure about who it is, then why don’t you say his name?” You figured that you couldn’t lie your way out of this mess so playing this game with Tequila was your best shot. Jack was biting his lip, feeling the urge to jump in but resisting that urge to hear what it was that you had to say.

“Well I think that the gentleman in question should hear his name come out of your mouth instead.” Tequila was playing dirtier than usual, but you knew that you could do him one better if you wanted to save your skin.

“And what makes you so sure that the gentleman in question is here in this very moment?” You were treading in dangerous waters with Tequila. It was almost swallowing you whole, leaving you almost no room for air to keep yourself alive but you couldn’t stop now.

“I know that the gentleman in question is here just as I know what, or rather who brought you out here on this fine night.” It was your move in this game, and you weren’t sure if you had the upper hand anymore or if you ever did once Tequila asked you that first question. The tension between the four of you was thick, and it left you wondering if this was really just a night out for drinks that turned into something else or was this all an impromptu interrogation waiting to happen under the guise of after-work drinks.

“If you’re so sure of yourself, then how come you waited all this time to ask me that question?” You turned the tables onto Tequila in the hopes that the pressure would lay off on you a bit.

“I’m not the one in the hot seat avoiding all these questions, Y/N.” Tequila swiftly dodged your attack of sorts and you were hated where this was taking you.

“Why did you put me in the hot seat then? What’s it to you, Tequila?”

“Oh it’s nothing to me. But it is something to Jack over here,” Your eyes shifted over to Jack, and you could see that he was not happy with being brought in this debacle.

“Is this true, Jack?” It was one thing to take on Tequila and his ridiculous questions, but it was another thing to hear what Jack had to say about this whole situation considering how involved he was in it without speaking.

“Is it true that I’m the gentleman in question?” You felt your heart pounding out of your chest and your ears were ringing so loud. You couldn’t calm down no matter how hard you tried.

“What do you think?”

“I want to say yes but you have to be the one to answer the million-dollar question, sweetheart,” Jack’s voice didn’t falter in the slightest bit but he was sure that the rest of him was not as calm and collected as it normally was.

“Well,” You took a pause, trying to find the courage to say it out loud. “The answer is yes, Jack.” Tequila let out a drunken holler of some sorts while Jack let out a sigh of relief.

“Well can I ask you to dance with me, angel?” Jack looked to be in better spirits now that he knew that he wasn’t the only one feeling this chemistry with you.

“You may, cowboy.” You left Tequila and Ginger to their own devices as Jack took you to the dance floor.

You were so close to him, breathing in his scent of the multitude of alcohol that he drank and a hint of his cologne that seemed to make you weak at the knees. His hands found their way to your hips, gripping them slightly and he was sure that your soft, pliant skin was the one thing that he would want to feel for as long as he could.

“I have another question for you, darlin’.” Jack looked at you in a serious manner that made you question what else he had to know.

“What else do you want to know?”

“Did you really want to do that with me?” You were unsure as to what he had meant but then it all clicked.

“Oh…” You looked away from Jack, feeling the embarrassment set in about what you had said that set off that interrogation. “Well, I meant it as a joke and as a way to get Ginger off my back, but don’t all jokes have a little truth to them?” Jack raised his eyebrows at you once he caught on to what you were trying to say to him.

“Well as much as that excites me,” You looked at him again and laughed a bit at how he started off. “I want to take you on a real date that doesn’t seem like an interrogation or a sleazy hook-up.”

“I would love that, Jack.” You both smiled at each other, just enjoying the closeness between the two of you as you swayed to the beat of the song that was playing faintly in the background. Back at the table was Tequila slipping Ginger a $20, muttering under his breath about how this whole bet was rigged. Ginger laughed at the irritated site of Tequila and casually slipped the money in her bag.

“I swear you did something to y/n after Jack and I left. You and I both know that she was adamant about not spilling on her feelings for Jack.” Tequila was not letting up in the slightest bit over how Ginger played dirty to win.

“Perhaps I just gave her a little encouragement. After all, it is something that you know about all too well considering how you give me a little encouragement to take on these bets,” That comeback was one that Tequila was not expecting as his eyes shot up at her. “Next time you want to make a bet with someone, be sure to take into consideration that they may use your own methods against you.”

#lana things #lana asks #agent whiskey ask #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal ask #jack daniels

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kousin-itt · 3 years

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I Got Your Back - Part 5

The final chapter of this short fanfic! Glad you guys seemed to like it! Enjoy!

Also, bonus points to anyone who could catch the numerous obscure references to shows, Youtubers, etc. that I also enjoy. :)

Part 5

He smoothed out his trousers and adjusted his bowtie. Was that a stain on his pristine white collared shirt? Wait, no, that was a smudge on his glasses. He clutched his book closer to his chest and ventured onto the recreation area. There were children playing on the playground. There were children kicking a ball around. There were children standing in groups and catting happily. He approached group after group of young people his age, but they turned their backs on him.

“Nerd!”

“Who brings a book to the playground?”

“Loser!”

“Why would we want to play with you?”

“Four-eyes!”

“Why can’t you just be normal?”

“You’re so weird. Why are you bothering us?”

“Nobody likes you.”

“You’re not tough enough to be like Professor Time. He was awesome, a hero. You’re nobody.”

Balthazar eventually gave up. He was beginning to miss playing with his toddler sister, even though he used to complain about not having a friend his age or gender.

“I don’t need a friend.” Balthazar finally decided. He went to the empty baseball field, not noticing the playground and children disappearing around him. He picked up a stick and drew a circle in the dirt. “This is my circle. Nobody can be in here except me.” He stepped into the circle and sat in the middle of it. He looked around.

Completely alone.

“I like it like this.” Balthazar told himself. “I like being alone. I don’t need friends.” He opened his book and began to read. He readjusted his glasses, but his eyes were still blurry. Then, he realized tears caused the wetness on his face.

Nobody comforted him.

“It’s not my fault!” Balthazar sobbed, his face red with embarrassment from being so emotional. He rubbed his fists against his eyes, desperately and silently pleading for them to stop producing tears. “I want a friend. I can’t…..I just can’t……”

A shadow appeared in his circle.

Go away, shadow. Balthazar thought for sure this was a trick of his water-filled eyes. But when his eyes finally cleared, he realized the shadow had a more definite shape. The shadow was attached to someone: a child his age, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and a pair of glasses with orange-tinted lenses. He had a mess of wild curls for hair.

“Hi there!” the boy greeted with a wide smile. His enthusiasm seemed to startle Balthazar. “I’m Vinnie! Can I come in there, too?”

“No, stay back!” Balthazar pleaded, jumping to his feet.

Vinnie’s smile turned to a look of confusion. He even tilted his head to one side like a perplexed puppy. “Why?”

“This is my circle!” Balthazar insisted. “Nobody can cross that line!”

“Why not? I don’t understand.” Vinnie took a few steps forward, crossing the border to stand in the circle.

Balthazar stared in shock. “No. How can you cross that line? You can’t be in here. This is my circle.”

Vinnie looked to the circle in the sand. “Why can’t I be in here?”

“I don’t know how to make friends. No one wants to be my friend, anyway.” Balthazar hoped he wouldn’t start crying again. “I’m better off alone.”

“I’ll be your friend.” Vinnie offered.

“You don’t want that.” Balthazar sighed. “You can’t be in my circle. I’ll just stay here by myself.”

Vinnie went to the edge of the circle and kicked the sand, breaking the line. “See? We can erase the line!”

“No!” Balthazar pleaded as Vinnie kept kicking the sand. “Don’t erase my circle!”

Too late. The circle was gone.

Vinnie dusted off his shorts. “Now can we be friends?”

Balthazar slowly shifted his gaze from where his circle used to be, locking his turquoise eyes onto Vinnie’s cocoa brown ones. Then again, he couldn’t really tell Vinnie’s eye color with those tinted lenses. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

“Because I like you. I think you’re cool.” Vinnie held out his hand. “What do you say?”

Balthazar smiled a little at last. He reached out to take Vinnie’s hand.

The light blinded Cavendish, and he flinched. He let his eyes adjust a bit before he opened them fully. Of course, without his glasses, the world was a blur.

“About time you woke up.”

Someone moved into his line of sight and put his glasses on his face. He blinked owlishly. Cavendish took in his surroundings to fix the disorientation: he lay in a hospital bed, Morgan stood beside him, and he was hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV. He felt mentally alert but physically exhausted. The room was too bright. He felt sick to his stomach and hungry at the same time. Morgan’s hair was messier today. Or maybe her cowlick was just acting up and refusing to let her hair lay neatly. Cavendish wondered why he would bother noticing that. He sat up and hissed in pain. He looked down and under the collar of his hospital gown. Bandages coiled around his torso from hips to armpits. Bruises graced his knuckles, and he touched the skin around his eye where shards of his previous pair of spectacles cut into his face. He accepted the water Morgan handed him.

“When did I get here?” Cavendish asked. His voice was hoarse. He drank more water.

“You’ve been out cold for a day and a half.” Morgan explained. “Surgery took a few hours. I delivered the Triton’s Amulet to the Preservation Department to take to the Jewelry Museum. Cobalt is dead, but Block doesn’t blame you or Vinnie for it since it was in self-defense.”

“Vinnie?” Cavendish suddenly felt a flood of memories rush back to him. “Where is he?”

“Over there.” Morgan jerked a thumb behind her. “He hasn’t left that spot since you got out of surgery.”

Cavendish saw Dakota in cushioned chair near his bed. Dakota had the seat reclined, and he slept soundly. He long since replaced his blood-soaked clothing with jeans, sneakers, and an old band T-shirt. His glasses sat crookedly on his face. Cavendish took note of the bandage on Dakota’s head, the busted lip that scabbed over, the bruises on his knuckles, and the largest bruise that went across his neck.

“Is he all right?” Cavendish asked.

“He’ll be fine. You’re the one who almost died.” Morgan assured. “You wouldn’t be here right now if Vinnie hadn’t remembered my training. I’m sure you’ll find a way to thank him while you two are on medical leave. Rest. I’ll have Vinnie get you something to eat.”

“I don’t want to wake him.” Cavendish said. “He’s probably exhausted.”

“Nah. He’s practically narcoleptic.” Morgan stole the pillow from under Dakota’s head and hit him the face with it. “He’s awake. You can get up now.”

Dakota yawned and set his glasses more comfortably on his face. He noticed Cavendish and immediately jumped to his feet. “Hey, Cav! How are you feeling?”

Cavendish watched Morgan leave the room. “I’m sore, but I’ll be fine. You?”

“Bumps and bruises compared to you!” Dakota’s laugh was forced. “You really had me going, Cavendish.”

Cavendish gingerly touched his ribs, where the bullet entered him. “Thank you, Dakota, for saving my life.”

“It was nothing.” Dakota shrugged.

“It wasn’t nothing. It was something.” Cavendish insisted. “I would not be here if—”

“But you are here! It’s no big deal.” Dakota assured. “Besides, you saved my life first. I was getting strangled to death and you came running in and you just—BAM! Smashed right into Cobalt and knocked him off me and saved my life. So, naturally, I had to save your life, too! So it’s no biggie.”

Now, Cavendish understood why Morgan made a point to mention that Cavendish needed to thank Dakota for the rescue. She didn’t say that to make Cavendish feel guilty. She wanted him to make sure Dakota didn’t sweep this traumatic incident under the rug. Dakota had a smile on his face but pain in his eyes. He had been scared, surely, that things would not work out like they did. Cavendish promised himself he would follow Morgan’s command and find ways during their time off to make it up to Dakota.

Just one thing bothered him.

“Dakota…..what you did…..”

“I did what any partner would have done.”

“But you did more than that. You made me talk about my hometown. I could imagine the trees, and you helped me remember the fond times I shared with my baby sister. You did more than administer first aid. You kept me calm and helped me gain a sense of peace when I thought for sure I would die. That sort of thing is not expected from a partner, a work colleague. It’s something that…..something that….”

“What?”

“It’s something a friend would do.”

Silence overcame the pair. Dakota’s grin became genuine. “Whether you like it or not, Balthazar T. Cavendish, I consider you my friend. I knew you were scared, so I tried to make you smile. I did everything in my power to save your life, and to keep your hopes up; because if you didn’t make it for whatever reason, I didn’t want you to die scared.”

Cavendish rubbed the hem of the blanket draped over his legs. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

“Because you’re cool. Because you’re an awesome time traveler agent. Because it’s fun to mess with you. Take your pick.” Dakota smirked playfully. “Hey, your sister’s single, right?”

Cavendish frowned. “Yes, and she’s bisexual, but she is still out of your league and would never date you.”

“We won’t know until you take me to see your hometown, like you promised!”

“I recall much of the mission, and I did not say I would take you home for a visit.”

“Come on! You take me to see your family, and I’ll bring you to my grandma’s house for a proper Italian dinner.”

“I will consider it.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘no.’”

“I’m not saying a ‘yes.’”

Dakota laughed, and Cavendish smiled. The tension cleared between them at last, and Cavendish felt they could move forward from this experience.

“But, seriously, don’t think you owe me anything.” Dakota said. “You saved my life, I saved yours. We’re even. Equals. Partners.”

“I think I like ‘friends’ better.” Cavendish realized he said that out loud without meaning to. But Dakota smiled wider, so Cavendish didn’t bother mentally berating himself. Cavendish held out a hand. “Thank you, Dakota. Truly.”

Dakota took Cavendish’s hand in a firm grip. “I got your back, Balthazar, as long as you got mine.”

“Always.” Cavendish promised.

“Good. Hey, you hungry? The food isn’t horrible here, but it’s still hospital food.”

“Tea and a scone, if they have any.”

“Oh, like a proper British gentleman?”

Cavendish rolled his eyes. “Is this what our friendship will be? You poking at every little thing I do?”

“Yeah, and you poke fun at everything I do, and that’s what makes us a great team.” Dakota shrugged. “Okay, tea and a scone, I’m on it!” He marched from the room, a man on a mission.

Cavendish sighed and shook his head. He still smiled. I suppose having Vinnie Dakota as a friend isn’t the worst thing in the world. He rubbed his ribs and laid back in his bed. What more could I ask for in a friend?

#milo murphy's law #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #fanfic

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okimargarvez · 4 years

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NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN (FOR CHRISTMAS)

Original title: Mai più soli (a Natale).

Prompt: between season 14 and 15; Luke has a special Christmas’ gift for Penelope.

Warning: none.

Genre: fluff; romantic; a bit sad and melancholic.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, Lou, Roxy, Sergio, O.C. (cat).

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 64 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘😈🐶🎈🎵.

Song mentioned: Casa a Natale, Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

Note: I written this story during these days, because this Christmas will be for me very sad: my boyfriend will have to work, our parents are far away and I’ll be alone. This ff is dedicated to everyone that feels alone, even for Christmas. The story is less sad than the reality ;)

NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN (FOR CHRISTMAS)

Christmas Eve

It's starting to get really cold. A tangible or better, empirical proof of this is his breath forming a cloud of condensation as soon as he sets foot in the garage area. He's thinking he'll have to make wear the coat to Roxy and Lou, just to be sure, when he hears sobs. He recognizes the nuance before seeing with his own eyes who is producing them. He seems to experience a sort of deja-vu; he gets close to the orange car. He stays for a few seconds staring at her, feeling powerless. Then he pronounces his joke. -Garcia?- perhaps too low, because she doesn't hear it. -It’s all right?- he adds, however, a detail to that already experienced (although in a different setting). He touches her shoulder with his hand.

And finally, the woman is aware of his presence. She jolts, as a first reaction. Then he sees her tighten tightly what he senses to be a handkerchief. She doesn’t try to hide the evidence, the tears; this time she prefers to pass them off as a symptom of something else. -I...- she turns to him, sitting in the car. -Yes, I think I got something with this cold...- she smiles a little, but her cheeks are not red just because of the cold or the embarrassment. Like her eyes. She seems to realize the direction in which the male gaze points. -Or maybe an allergy.- she tries again, begging him to buy this nonsense, however is little credible.

He understood it, but that doesn’t mean that he will satisfy her. Feeling a little selfish, he leans on the door. -Are you sure? Because it seemed to me that you were crying...- that soft, low, reassuring tone, that he uses with relatives of the victims or victims themselves after having saved them, came out spontaneously.

She looks away, understanding how defeat is near. -For what reason should I have to cry?- she asks, but perhaps more to herself. -No, not a single one!- she shakes her head vigorously and her hair forms a blonde cloud. -Unless, the fact I’m the only one that doesn’t have a family with whom to share this party, is not a valid motivation.- she finally yields, without starting to sob again, but big tears run down her cheeks. At that sight the man reacts without thinking. He opens the door decisively but not brusquely, makes her stand up and caress her face.

She seems to be afraid to look at him, but at the same time she can't do otherwise. -Penelope, hey.- her name instead of a neutral "Garcia" should shake her even more, instead it has the power to reassure her. -Come here.- he tells her, while with one hand he pushes her towards him and with the other he welcomes her. She gives herself up to the hug but tries hard not to cry. Seeing such a finding on a colleague's clothes would be too... destabilizing. She holds her arms still, level with his shoulders. Instead, the man moves his hands and fingers all over his back, in tender caresses, making her feel like a child.

Without leaving a single millimeter between them, in fact, leaning her head on his chest, she begins weakly to protest. -I don't need your charity, Luke.- the tone would be enough to clarify to the federal Agent how much that is something she felt she had to say, but she doesn’t really think it. He moves one of his hands through her hair, aware that he is crossing a border in their relationship. She doesn't flinch, she stays still.

He lightly rotates his head to make her hear him. -Too bad, because I will worry about you anyway.- the hug lasted longer than expected and, reluctantly, Luke lets her go, feeling immediately cold. This has nothing to do with the forecasts that give snow during the night.

And perhaps the woman also feels the same way, because she tightens her arms to her body, as if to warm up. -Shouldn't you run to Lisa?- the question puzzles him.

-I can't believe you don't know.- he replies, after recovering. Inside Penelope's eyes he reads only confusion. -We broke up months ago. I talked about it, from O'Keefe, one evening...- then, the realization. -Wait. You weren't there.- yes, it had been the absence he had heard the most, even though he thought that in the end was better this way. Who knows what he could have done, because of the mix of post-breaking feelings and what he had never stopped feel for Garcia, now that he was single again.

She reacts precisely as he would have expected. She brings her hands to her face. -Oh, I... I'm so sorry, if...- he imagines the rest of her sentence: if there's anything I can do to help you... maybe you have still time to make things right. He barely holds a smile, by hearing Garcia's voice inside him.

He touches her arm, this time in a purely friendly gesture. -Thanks, but it was better that way.- she has stopped crying, but some traces remained on her face. It is difficult to fight against the instinct to completely cancel them with other caresses. He sees her puzzling, trying to understand how all this could have happened, why she had to know it so long after... and finally she comes to the conclusion that, probably, he doesn't want to talk about it. It will be a wound still open, surely. It was his first important relationship after years; they even went to live together. It is clear that this is so.

Nothing could be further from the truth, at least now. Of course, he had been sad, in his own way he had loved Lisa... only, not as much as he would have wanted. And at the first real big problem they had to face, he understood that the thought of her leaving, really leaving him, would not devastate him. And this was enough. Penelope, however, cannot know anything about his thoughts, so she opts for the simplest solution. Change topic. -Won't... Won't you leave for New York to join your relatives?- it almost seems that she wants to get rid of him, but he knows that it is not so. The man thinks back to her words when she admitted that she was crying. The only one not to have a family waiting for her for Christmas. He then understands how she is trying to sharpen the pain, perhaps due to some small selfish thoughts she has did.

He shakes his head, mentally apologizing to his relatives, but he is not lying. -This year no, I canceled at the last minute.- yes, because he had delayed until it was possible. He had cleverly eluded all the mother's attempts to direction the conversation to this argument, months before. And it was partly the reason that caused the discussion with Lisa. You don't want your friends to know me, now you don't even want to introduce me to your family. Is this your idea of a serious relationship? I understand you have problems with commit things, but... But the problem wasn't just that. It was that she had understood nothing, absolutely nothing.

Penelope, with her usual interested but naive expression, thinks of a completely different kind of motivation. -Because of the case?- she asks, frowning when she gets a shake of the head. -So, for Roxy? I could take care of her, really, I'd like to...- yes, it wouldn't be a burden at all. It would be a way to feel less alone, and he reads her thoughts, in the light half-sad half-hopeful smile. And once again he is puzzled by such generosity.

He has a physical need to embrace her, to hold her, to feel her again in contact with his body. To make sure she's real and not an angelic creature or something coming from another universe... because she's too pure for our one. -Well, you know that since Phil...- he can't finish the sentence and violently pushes back the knot that has blocked his throat. He takes a breath. -I got Lou too.- he says instead, with a shrug. -But this is not the reason.- he sees that she would like to ask him, to know then what it is, but she doesn’t feel or doesn’t want to seem excessively nosy. He smiles, placing both hands with satisfaction on her shoulders. -Would you like to have an extra guest?- he asks, completely changing the subject.

He will never know if it's for this or for the new physical contact between them that makes her more confused. -I...- her eyes widen, and her lips tremble. -I don't understand...- because maybe she is really starting to guess. Otherwise it would have been automatic for anyone else to think that he was referring to Lou.

Luke, however, has another surprise in store. -Do you like mistletoe?- he asks her and now his voice is no longer just soft, reassuring, low, but also velvety, mischievous without being overtly sexy. Penelope is capable of ignoring everything.

She shrugs. -Well, yes, it's a Christmas decoration, so I like it, but I can't understand what this has to do with...- he, who has now hit the ground running, has lost all inhibitions and fears, takes off gently her glasses from her nose, before her expression, now yes, really shocked.

-I have a gift for you.- he is whispering, even though he had not foreseen it. -Close your eyes.- her eyelids automatically obey him, tightening, but they rise again after a few moments.

It's nice to be able to see her dark eyes from so close. -Luke, why should I...- he silences her with a slight movement of his head.

-Just do it.- authoritarian, without raising the voice. -Just one time, only once, trust me.- and, even more incredible, she listens to him, executes his order. He admires every detail of her face. Penelope strains her ears as much as possible, trying to understand what he intends to do, starting from the noises. But there is nothing particularly significant. -Now you can reopen them.- she hears, and hesitates, aware that much will depend on what she will see, but too curious to linger any longer.

Despite being screaming inside out of terror, since she instantly recognized what Luke wears and its significance, the external reaction was to burst into a loud laugh. The man doesn’t seem to take it badly. -Are you serious?- she asks, trying to turn serious again.

Arduous task, because he, who from the outside seems the typical tough (and he is, even if she has learned that it is not only this) is really too funny with a headband equipped with a curved rod from which hangs a mistletoe, of course and almost certainly bought by Flying Tiger. -It depends if you are one that respects traditions.- he replies, and it is in his gaze, so intense, so deep, that she finds the strength to respond to it in the same tone.

She bites her lips, undecided. -Mmm, I'm pretty rebellious, but...- but she has no intention of letting this opportunity slip by. Not even for an instant she thinks it could be a joke, that he even has only a micro camera hidden somewhere. The only thing that bothers her is not being able to focus on him, since he stole her glasses. But even from half blind she managed to understand that it was mistletoe. -Maybe I could make an exception...- she adds, catching a glimpse of the man's lips bending instantly into a smile. When he passes his hands over her face, in a long caress, her eyelids fall down on their own. Something tickles her forehead. And then, something else, Luke's mouth, presses on her lips for at least five seconds, she can just stick out hers as much as possible to fully enjoy the contact. Her heart beats inside her head, she thinks she is about to faint. She doesn’t feel cold, but a heat that spreads from the tips of the feet to those of the hair. When they separate, they feel almost pain. -Wow.- is the first thing she says. He seems to think the same way. Their heads are still very close, their foreheads touch. -Thanks, Luke. It was certainly the sweetest kiss someone ever gave me.- it is very easy to mistake the languid gaze of man for love. It is very easy to exchange reality with what she wants. -A beautiful gift.- she adds, magnificently ignoring yet another caress, which this time also touches the chin and neck. -I'm sorry I can't repay, I wasn't prepared, but I'll fix it.- she reassures him. Luke watches her rise to the tips. -Good night.- she concludes, placing a kiss on the man's cheek and scratching herself lightly with his beard. Then she turns around to open the door. But his fingers tighten around her wrist, making her turn 180 degrees.

And bringing her back exactly to the previous position. -Hey, wait.- he says, only later, like a dubbing not in sync with what you see on the screen. -My gift is not finished.- now his tone is hoarse, as if he were out of breath, more than losing the word. -I still have this thing on my head...- he points out and before she has time to do anything, he drags her back against him (much more than before) to exchange with her short kisses, long kisses, dry kisses, wet kisses (at the right point), chaste kisses, passionate kisses, sweet kisses, hot kisses. It takes little to lose count and even the mind. They make infinitesimal pauses, barely perceptible, just enough to recharge the oxygen and start again. This time Penelope plays her part, immediately opening the door when the man's tongue knocks to enter, sinking her hands in his hair, looking for a way to feel him even closer, without finding it. His hands instead run across her back, back and forth, sometimes resting on her hips, sometimes on her ribs, or her shoulder blades, her shoulders, the base of her neck, her cheeks, starting each time around and making her feel inside a whirlwind of pure love.

It is she, of course, who speaks first. Her panting tone is the most exciting thing Luke ever had the honor of hearing. -Should we continue until you take off it?- she asks, licking her dry lips at the same time, and catching all the man's attention only on that narrow area of her body. That's why he takes a few moments to respond consistently.

-It depends on you. If you want it too.- but he caresses her cheek again, touching the earlobe and producing more and more powerful shocks in her body, contrary to what happens during an earthquake. The epicenter? Surely her heart.

Penelope forces her brain to work and get out of the mist of his kisses. How much time will they have spent in this car park? At least twenty minutes, if not more. She almost can't even remember what she was doing before he arrived. However, it is certainly not healthy. -Wanting and understanding are not always on the same level.- she says then, observing him agreeing with a nod of the head. But he didn’t leave her at all. She senses the heat given off by his body fights (and wins) against the outside temperature. -Why all this?- she taps the mistletoe and they both watch it bounce over their heads.

Luke is the first to return to focus on the real subject of his interest. He tightens his lips in a falsely doubtful pose. -I have an answer, but it's sappy.- he finally says, in a forced serious tone and the shadow of a mischievous smile.

Penelope stares at him. -I love all the corny things.- she replies only.

-I know or at least I thought so.- they laugh together, their laughter come together in a single melody. -I like you.- so he says, then realizes that he has known her for three years and that this would have been fine if he had confessed it to her in the elevator, after making sure that there was no Canadian boyfriend and reassuring her that Roxy was not a problem. -No, wait, it's not the correct definition.- he adds, in fact, seeing her frown, while wrinkles appear on her forehead. -I'm in love with you.- here, this is defi-nitely more appropriate.

They have spent a quarter of an hour kissing and pampering each other, yet she seems really surprised. -But...- she closes her mouth, not finding the right words to express her bewilderment. Luke can only be struck by this other nuance of her nature.

-Before you start with your paranoia on the thousand reasons why this is not possible...- he bends over the half centimeter that distance them, still resting his lips on those of the blonde. More than a real kiss, it is a strange kind of contact, a gesture made mainly because he knows he can do it now. -Let me convince you in another way.- he says, moving his mouth practically on hers, and feeling her nod, more than seeing it concretely. They stay there to kiss again for a while, until they think they are satatied, at least to resist for the time of a trip. -Now, you didn't answer my question.- she clings to his chest, but has no idea what he means. In fact, he did a lot of turn of phrase tonight. -Would you accept an extra guest?- he asks her then, going straight to the point.

She answers with another question. -Are you referring to Lou?- dear, sweet, naive, pure Penelope. Does he really deserve such a woman by his side? Knowing what the answer would be, he prefers to ignore it.

-No, me.- he clarifies. Then, he shows himself in a grimace, showing his jealousy. -Roxy and Lou… you have already approved them.- and he manages to make her laugh. But the hilarity doesn’t last long. She soon returns serious and he knows why, before she can tell him.

-Would you... Would you like to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day with me?- it would be nice to believe that this is a proposal, an invitation, an initiative by Garcia... but she is voicing her disbelief and her fears. She's talking in his place. She is trying to interpret everything that has happened, to make sense of it.

He sticks his fingers through her hair, caressing her skin. Watching her squint because of his gesture is something spectacular. -With my dogs, you and your cat, yes.- after recovering, she looks at him badly for a few moments, as if accusing him of taking advantage of her, of corrupting her with his sweetness, to get what he wants.

If it were not the same thing that she wants. -Maybe I should warn you that I also have a new partner.- she says however, enjoying with a pinch of malice in seeing Luke surprised, finally him, and also worried. So worried. -It's called Vincent, for friends Vi.- she explains, but it is not enough. -He has an ear hacked off.- then she concludes and the man understands that it is an animal, even if he couldn’t say of what species. Penelope, however, reads something completely different in his expression. -I know, it's a stupid association...- he looks at her collapsing like a balloon and can't tolerate it.

-No, no, it's fantastic, like you.- she hastens to protest, so he decides to repeat it. -You are fantastic.- he greatly emphasizes the personal pronoun. - Do not you have any idea how much I wanted to tell you.- already, but she's starting to understand it. As well as his next moves. -Shall we go?- he asks her and with a sigh she bends down to grab the bag, before inserting the safety lock and the alarm. When she turns around, Luke is there waiting for her with his hand outstretched. She grabs it, differently from Bradenton. Their fingers intertwine. -I know it is not gallant to inviting itself, I would propose my house... But something tells me that you are much more careful with regards to the decorations...- he is telling her, even if it is difficult to focus on his speech, because her body is trembling at that simple, banal, very chaste contact. When her mind finally works again, she blushes.

It is obvious that he expects who knows what great decorations, anyone in his place would think the same. He saw what her home was like, as well as her office. This is why she is sorry to have to disappoint him. -Well, I had little time...- she tries to explain, but she understands that, for the man, it was more like a joke. The way in which he stares her seems to suggest that if anything they can think of it later... together.

He moves his thumb on the back of her hand. She is getting more caresses from him than from the rest of the world in all her life. -Would you like it if I took you tomorrow to see a living crib?- like all his other questions, it puzzles her enough, but decides that at this point, she must let herself go. And then there is always the tight hand in hers to give her courage.

-Yes, that would be nice.- he opens the door for her, even helping her to get on. Instead of talking, she prefers to thank him with a short kiss.

They have recently left the building where they both work, when a typically Christmas music starts and soon after, the words. At the first traffic light they meet, Luke has a way of verifying that she is keeping her eyes closed, sealed. But they haven't stopped holding hands. They both listen in silence. I give up, I give up... to the cold that I feel, since you gave up... The man sighs, feeling an immense pain press on his chest to come out into the open. It is not out of shame, if he doesn’t cry. He doesn't even know. Perhaps, he hasn't managed to accept it yet. I'm nobody, but you're too much. Who I was is now a mystery, but you are too much... Penelope still manages to understand that something is wrong, because she increases her grip, then wraps his right hand with both hers, brings it to her lips, poses a dry kiss. At home I'm always or never, and I count the days in my mind... but I lose the number because my job is forgiveness... Yeah, it's a pity that she's very good at absolving anyone, outside of herself. I'm an expert of the desert, yet I lose myself there...again! He chuckles, shaking his head, having already listened it and knowing what is coming. For her, however, it's all new, like everything since Luke took her in his arms to comfort her. With all that I like... with all that I hate about me, with all that... I don't like about you, with all that... I would like from you... yes, there are a lot of things he would like from her, or rather, to do with her, while many less are the ones he can't stand, because in his view, she's almost perfect. With everything I like... with all that I hate about me, with all that... no, I don't like about you, with all that... I would like to have at home at Christmas... Penelope instead is thinking that she knows perfectly what she would like to have for that magical day, or rather, who. But no one, not even Luke, can go that far. I am alone and it has always been so... the advantage of the defect the fact that I admit it... It seems that the singer wrote it thinking of him, looking deep into his soul. Because you can be alone even when you are in the company of other people, if they are not the right ones. I applauded... I nodded... imbalance of the control the fact that now I collapse... And the woman prefers to look out the window, to prevent him from noticing that other tears are gushing from her eyes. Few, necessary salty drops. And I asked a passer-by who I am, he replied "Who I didn't remember"... How scary your face is if you can't see it in the mirror anymore... But any effort is useless, he still noticed it, only that he also understood how the thing she needs is that the contact between them doesn’t break, nothing else. Then they reverse roles, it is he who now caresses her palm, without taking his eyes off the road. I am an expert about eternity, yet I lose myself there... again! With everything I like... with all that I hate about me, with everything that I don't like about you, with everything I... want from you... Both think of their most beautiful Christmas, the ones they spent with the whole family, when they were small, when they pretended to sleep, but they stayed awake to try to catch the bearded man with a big belly, or when they discovered the truth, and yet, once the trauma had passed, the magic never ceased to hover in the air for that day. With everything I like... with everything I hate about me, with everything I don't like about you, with everything I want at home for Christmas! And then they review the last, the most recent ones. On the one hand everything perfectly aligned: tree, festoons, lights; on the other, the feeling that something is missing in that family picture. Thursday, Friday, Monday... Monday, Thursday, Friday... I imagined having you like this, but I didn't imagine seeing you like this... Thursday, Friday, Monday, Monday, Thursday, Friday... shouting on the news, in the chaos of the service that precedes my Christmas! And then, there remain only the fantasies, the expectations, the hopes for this Christmas that still has to arrive and could become one of the most beautiful for both. With everything I like... with everything I hate about me, with everything I don't like about you, with everything I... want from you, with everything I like, with everything I hate about me, with all that I don't like about you, with everything I want at home, for Christmas...

Luke lowers the radio as the last notes go out. And, almost at the same time, the meteorologists mark a point on the board. It's starting to snow. -You know, it was thanks to this song if I decided to face you.- he tells her, and it seems to have spent a whole life since he last spoke. -It seems to me that in some places it’s talking about me.- he blushes just a little, because he is not used to opening up to the world. But Penelope, she upsets every pattern.

He sees her with the corner of his eye drying the last traces. He would like to be able to imitate her. She clears his throat. Needless to say, their hands are still united. -I thought the same thing.- therefore, she hesitates. She feels the weight of the break in the cockpit. Penelope sighs. -I have something to tell you.- she turns to look at him, even if he can't do the same. -The day you officially joined the team, you asked about my last name. Do you remember?- he nods. -I told you it was from the family that adopted me when the my parents died, but the truth is...- she bites her lip. -It's my stepfather's surname. He and my mother died in that incident.- behold, the situation has not changed much with this revelation. -And I have three brothers, but... During the trial to grant Jesse his freedom, the boy who caused the accident...- another nod with his head. Of course, he knows what she's talking about. He cannot forget anything that concerns her in the slightest. -They found out it was my fault they died.- a hiccup, the first in a series. He understands it from the noise she makes, as if it were digging inside her. -And they don't want to see me anymore.- she breaks the contact to cover her face with both hands. She makes various attempts to quit, so she gives up. -Sorry, I didn't want to cry again or give you this weight...- this thought only serves to make her feel even worse and increase the intensity of the sobs. -I never know when to shut up.- she reproaches herself, overcoming the limit and making him react.

-No, no.- he thinks for a moment to stop, but he wants to get to his house, picking up the dogs and experience what awaits them with her. -You have nothing to apologize for, okay?- he is satisfied with a very quick look. -I'm sorry for your family situation. I'm pretty sure it wasn't really your fault...- he anticipates her protests even before she can speak. -But I'm willing to hear your reasons... If you want to tell me about it.- he manages to caress her cheek without causing an accident. -And even about your brothers... I can't imagine anyone hating you.- is not at all exaggerating. -It seems impossible.- he manages to sense her hold her breath, as if she were about to dive into deep water.

Then she releases everything. -Oh, Luke, you're too sweet, but I already knew it.- being defined in this way, puzzles him, positively. Even for their first kiss she used the same adjective. How many times has he thought the same thing of her? During the meeting with Roxy, when she organized the party for Emily, new chief of the BAU, when she covered him with presents for Roxy, when she helped him with a surprise for Phil... when she gave him and Lisa that picture, or the bottle of wine, not to mention how she taken care of Diana Reid when Spencer was arrested or... he can find miles of examples. He returns to focus on the present. -This is also why I tried to keep you away.- she is saying, and it is a great admission, for her. It means that she has thought of him even before, that she has felt something for a long time, that, like him, she fought and lost. Or maybe won. Life is all a matter of points of view, after all.

He feels his throat tight, the inability to articulate a sentence in a coherent way, he literally trembles, but then, fortunately, he is able to dominate himself. He turns in her way, signaling the turning. -No one has ever told me, because I don't think I 've ever been before.- there is an implicit part that he hasn’t said out loud. -No one has ever pulled out of me this... qualities- and he is about to do it -no one before you.- he parks and takes the opportunity to finally be able to look into her eyes. They are big and scared. Terrified by the possibility of being teased or wounded. It doesn't matter who they are or what they did, what they said; only that enormous fear counts, that he knows so well, because it is all his life that he escapes from it.

He unfastens his belt and rests his hands on her neck, stroking it. -It's my turn to struggle to believe it.- Luke only responds with a glance, before approaching and pushing her slightly towards him. Other kisses, of every known type, while the glasses are fogged up and the snow continues to fall, slow but inexorable.

He detaches, but not completely. -I'll just be a second.- he says, but he finds himself with her lips pressed on his own, without knowing (and he doesn't even care) if it was his initiative or hers. Another inhuman effort to break away. -Penelope, tell me, if I'm exaggerating, because I can't realize it.- he feels another statement (such as being able to become the someone to go to when she is crying) going up his body. -It's like...- he doesn't try to stop it, but he tries to dampen the effect anyway, fearing to really scare her. - You will find this much more than corny.- but she looks at him, seriously serious, and shakes his hand so much that it almost hurts him.

-Say it anyway.- she replies. Luke nods. He opens his mouth and lets the truth emerge.

-It's like we're meant to be something.- bravely, he tries to read her expression. -And now that the process has started, I can't see the intermediate stages.- he tries to make her laugh, but it's too important. -I don't want to scare you or put pressure on you.- she opens her eyes wide, as if only now she really understood.

-Oh.- she bites her lips, nodding. -Okay.- he stares at her, perhaps waiting for something. Then Penelope gives him a friendly push. -Go, I'll wait here.- and she means it in more than one sense. They don't need to specify it.

Despite that sort of promise, Luke doesn't let more than five minutes go by. She looks at him from behind the gate, pulled by two dogs in the direction of the car she is on. He opens one of the rear doors, pushing them to enter. -Here we are.- he says then, reaching her, but not being able to give her another kiss (that of the "I'm back") because Roxy is attacking her. She has recognized her smell, which was probably on Luke, from the moment he has set foot in his apartment.

-My two little puppies!- she fondles them, trying to pet them both, not to upset anyone. -Lou, how you grew up!- the animal replies with a whimper of approval. -Roxy, you're always fabulous.- she doesn’t notice the envious expression of man until the latter opens his mouth to call her attention to himself. Envious of his dogs. As if this was also a novelty. He grabs her firmly by the chin, but without hurting her.

-Well, what am I?- he simply asks her.

-You...- he expects a joke in her style. Even if two years have passed since she last called him Newbie (and he misses, he has to admit it), she kept the promise about tormenting him from time to time. -You are a daydream.- she says instead, trembling a little, probably frightened by her own words. Luke thanks her with yet another kiss, trying to transmit to her as much as possible in that natural exchange of lips. -Are you sure they will both get along with cats?- then she asks, a few minutes after being restarted.

Luke nods, smiling beneath his mustache. -Yes, it all depends on yours ones.- and they no longer feel the need to fill the void with words. The journey is actually very short; even though both had been in the other's home, they never realized that they lived so close together.

Penelope looks out of the window at the complex where her apartment is located. -They will behave well.- or at least she hopes so. It's not like they have seen many dogs... especially Vi. She knows almost nothing about him. She lays her hand on that of the man. -Can you manage both of them?- he strokes her cheek. Will he always be so sweet or is it only influenced by the Christmas atmosphere? Snow, meanwhile, has increased the intensity of its precipitation. They might even get stuck there... it wouldn't be so bad.

He reassures her. -Yes, I’ll parking and then we reach you.- he watches the woman nod, grabbing the bag, tighten the handle and then she changes her mind.

-Wait, just one thing.- he closes his eyes, welcoming her mouth. Then she opens the door, but keeps looking at him. -Hurry.- she says to him. And it's ridiculous, but she's afraid. Afraid that something might happen to him as he walks those few meters from the parking lot to her door. And only when she sees him walking down the stairs, followed by the ticking of the dogs' nails, she calms down. She looks at her little monsters, lined up in front of her. -So, guys. We have guests and you will show that we know how to welcome and make them feel at home...- she instructs them, feeling like a general.

Luke's head peeps out. -Can I?- she locks the cats in her room and beckons him to move forward, the territory is free. -Come in.- he joins her, holding back both animals, who would like to explore the new environment. -Let's start with Roxy.- he immediately finds himself in agreement. -Sergio, Vi, come on.- she warns them one last time. Then she feels something pressed against her back and realizes that it's Luke's chest. That wraps both arms around her body, squeezing it against himself.

He bends down to whisper in her ear. -Look.- perhaps afraid of breaking the spell.

-I'm seeing it.- she replies in the same tone. Roxy is literally washing her cats, both the one that is a puppy and the other, by now an elderly by right, and the two reciprocate her by purring. -Hold me, because I'm afraid of fainting.- she adds and is not joking.

Luke pushes her even further towards him, but unless she melts, it is not possible to stay closer than this. -I will not leave you.- he reassures her. After a few minutes, reluctantly, they break away. -Now it's Lou's turn.- seeing how it went with Rox, they decide to take the risk and leave all four of them together in one room. And they do just fine. -They are so…- he starts.

-...sweet.- she concludes for him. She turns to be able to look him in the face.

-If you had welcomed me with the same attitude, this would not be our first Christmas together...- he points out, holding her by the hips.

Penelope bites her lips, nodding. -I know, but I didn't imagine you liked me and I was afraid you'd be gone, leaving me with a few more chunks...- she tries to justify herself, even though she doesn't think of them as sufficient motivations first.

Luke immediately realizes he made a mistake. -Hey, I didn't want to make you feel sad, it was a joke.- he telepathically asks her to smile and she satisfies him. He does the same. -Only the present counts.- it wanted to be a question, but it came out as an affirmation. After a moment of hesitation, she nods. They look for a moment at the woman's bed, whose unicorns plot is almost completely hidden by the quartet: Roxy exactly in the center, with Vi between her paws, Lou leaning on her partner's back and Sergio between the two dogs. Then, infected by the love that they breathe in the air, they start kissing again, letting their hands wander a little more freely along the body of the other, now that they are sheltered from prying eyes. Indeed, if it were not already occupied, they probably would have continued on the bed, postponing (or skipping) the dinner. It is the rumbling of the man's stomach that breaks the idyll.

-Speaking about present...- she says, but at first he can only stare her lips wet from his saliva. -I had not prepared anything special, as you can see.- she leads him out, to make a trip of the rest of the house, holding him by the hand. -I had no idea I would have guests.- she apologizes. It is as if she felt not enough, but she has not yet understood that for him she is the whole universe? That he is the nothingness in their duo?

-There is no problem, we can think of it later, together.- he has said the magic word. -And as for dinner... I have the solution.- it is so nice to see that look deeply heartfelt and interested in what he has to offer. -Would you like to try Puerto Rican cuisine? I know a place, mostly the owners and the cook... They are as close as someone can be to my grandmother's level.- she nods.

-Uh, sure.- she thinks for a moment if it’s the case to go further or face the issue. She decides that if she wants to have a concrete story (and she wants it) with this man, they can't just kiss each other every minute. The serious issues, the other side of the coin, must also be faced. -But...- she feels him stiffen. -What is that, a shadow that passed for a moment before your eyes?- for a while she fears he will deny or saying she is a visionary.

-You see through me like I’m made of glass.- he replies instead, sighing and letting himself fall on the sofa. She follows him, sitting next to him (but not as close as she would like). -The fact is that I wasn't completely honest...- she doesn't interrupt him. -I declined the invitation to join my family in New York because this will be the first year without my abuela- maybe suddenly he remembers that she knows very few Spanish words -I mean my grandmother, and I'm too cowardly to face that emptiness.- Penelope under-stands that this is a heavy admission, which has cost him an immense effort. The last time she met Lisa, she complained about how difficult it was to get something out of the Latin. In fact, even she who had known him for the longest time now knew little more than the first day she had read his file.

Not only he has revealed his thoughts, he also exposed himself, showing himself vulnerable. It only happened on another occasion. When Phil had been murdered. -Luke...- she says, exactly like that day. But this time she manages to do what the other one he had prevented to. She hugs him hard, rubbing his back, hoping to absorb his pain. -Speak freely. I'm here for you.- and she presses his head against her breast, but the tears don't want to come out.

He sighs, parting. He admires the worried face of the woman, not even it is a work of art. -Thanks- he is tiring even to say this -but I want to think only of the beautiful things that remain of me.- Penelope nods, smiling at him. -Shall we order?- another nod with her head. Then she strokes his cheeks. He doesn’t mind having shown himself fragile, if it means receiving this kind of attention from her.

-Whenever you want.- she replies, concentrated however almost completely in playing with some of his curls. She remembers without a reason the previous year, when, returning from the six weeks of mandatory leave, after Walker had died, Luke had reappeared with much shorter hair.

She backs in the real world just in time. -Do you prefer to consult the menu or rely on me?- she raises the shoulders. She doesn’t know much of Puerto Rican cuisine.

-Choose, only remember I am...- he anticipates her, to show her how much he knows her.

-There is a vast choice of cruelty free food, don't worry.- he winks at her. Penelope opens her mouth to reply, then gives up. She continues to massage his skin, even while the man is dialing, talking on the phone, making it almost impossible. When he hangs up, he looks at her almost like scolding her. As if he was sorry. Who can fall for that?

-And now what do we do while we wait for dinner?- she asks, and her mix of innocence and malice is lethal as usual. He will never know if she said it on purpose. A second after closing her mouth, without getting an answer, her glasses are ripped off and placed somehow on a strangely shaped table. The man's hands remain on her face for a few more seconds, then they begin their descent. They stop to regain their energy on their sides, then leave again, sneaking under the fabric layers: they pass below sweater, shirt, and finally touch her naked skin. She shudders, not just because his hands are cold. She bites his lips. Both open again their eyes. -Before we go further, I want you to know that I’m too… I’m in love with you.- Luke's hands remain perfectly still, just below the breast. Not being able to do it physically, he caresses her with his eyes.

-I read it in your eyes, but it's nice to have certainty.- then he throws himself back on her, fearing that this time he could really burst into tears... but not to vent the pain of losing his grandmother. He feels that even Penelope's hands have gone further, she seems to want to count his ribs, then ends up on the edge of his jeans, on his bottom. With half-closed eyes, he watches her slide down onto the sofa, until she is partially lying down and he with her, just above. It is certainly not the most comfortable of positions, but neither of them protest. He brushes one of her big breasts with fear. She makes strange games with her tongue and at that point he completely loses his head. They pant like animals in heat, sweating despite not having particularly hot, assaulting each other and continuing to change the area of main interest. Until a sound interrupt their fantasies. Luke mumbles inside her mouth in annoyance.

Penelope prefers to giggle. -Game over.- but he is still above her.

-Just for the moment.- he replies in fact, with a mischievous look, making her stomach turning completely. Fortunately, she manages to recover in time to taste the dishes he has chosen, which prove to be no less aphrodisiac. Luke ends a moment before, so she listens to him talking about his grandmother and his family.

At that point, she yields to the pressure of an insistent little voice in her head. -You are Catholic, aren't you?- she asks, while together they fix the table and make sure that all the animals have the right baby food.

The man looks quite surprised. -Yes, all the Alvez, especially my grandmother…- he shakes his head. She immediately grabs his hand. -Man, everything makes me think of her.- he caresses his back with the other and makes him sit on the sofa again. One of the seats is occupied by Sergio.

-I was just wondering... Won't you go to mass?- she manages to capture his attention again. -It seems to me that it is an important celebration, for your faith...- is that it is so strange to hear her talk about this topic, which is also important to him, but that gave him many problems. Because the Catholic religion, the Latin or Roman rite, an old fashioned...

Not all Americans can understand it, sometimes not even the Catholics themselves. All a matter of habit. -Yes, actually...- anyway, not wanting it, she has touched a sore point. -If I were with my parents, we would go there tonight.- he can't help thinking about them. Will his mother have been able to forgive him? Likely. And his father? Much more difficult. And the uncles, his cousins .. will they understand why this year he gave up forfeit? -Midnight Christmas mass in New York is something magical.- not only the New York background, but the nocturnal atmosphere. Together they get an effect impossible to describe in words. -And it's even more comfortable.- he adds, with a chuckle, to dilute the excessive seriousness.

-I don't doubt it.- she replies. -I...- he understands that she's going to tell him something important, then he stares at her intently, giving her all the attention. -I would like if one day you took me there, even if I have absolutely no idea what to do, I mean...- this time she really surprises him. Have Penelope next to him in such a place on Christmas night? Sound too good to be true.

-I'd like it too.- he leans over to start from where the doorbell interrupted them, but she stops him.

-And then?- she urges. -Will you not go this year?- is the voice of his conscience? Has his grandmother accidentally entered her body? Why on earth she must be so perfect!

-I can't think of staying away from you even a few hours, not right now.- he confesses, without blushing. They have gone too far to make it happen. He even get the second base, he thinks, like a horny teenager. -It has already happened that I skipped it, even if due to a case or a mission...- and in any case at least he listened one part live on the radio. For once, however, only one, he believes he can afford it. He strives to live his life every day as a good person, even more than as a good Christian, and of course he makes mistakes, sins, but he reflects on (too much) and tries to learn, to improve. Something tells him that thanks to Penelope his whole existence will make a quantum leap. With her example...

But she doesn't seem to think so the same way. -I don't want your soul to be condemned to hell because of me.- she says, at the same time gently stroking his chest, over his clothes.

Luke opens his eyes wide, almost amused by the absurdity she has uttered. -It could never happen. You are an angel, Penelope.- is there a more suitable term to define her? From the first time he saw her he was convinced that she didn’t belong to this reality, but fortunately she had decided to give the Earth a chance. There is nothing blasphemous in this. He knows that she is not really an angelic creature (thankfully, he would add), but she is certainly the closer that exists.

However, the blonde doesn’t give up. -Even when we do things that your holy books would not approve?- he doesn’t know if it is a provocation or a serious question, but in any case obtains the effect of sending him into fibrillation.

He decides to play a little dirty. -When I went on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, I met a priest who claimed that the only thing that really matters in the world is love.- and it's the winning move.

-I agree.- she only whispers, before they start kissing again passionately, her hands starting to travel, digging, exploring, touching, brushing, and then even the mouths wander along the skin, leaving trails of kisses. Feeling something solid against the thigh brings her back to reality, as well as making her moan. -Wait, there's something I want to make clear.- he helps her return to a sitting position. He looks at her crumpled clothes, at her pants instead of her usually skirt. Everything to make the journey more difficult. -If it had been another man, I would have not allowed him to be here.- and it's the truth. After Sam, no male being who didn't already live in her heart (Derek, Spencer, Rossi, Hotch, Matt, Monty... to name a few) had particularly impressed her. Until Luke arrived, of course. They were all faded and anonymous; he had managed to stand out among the mass even with his dark shirts.

-I know.- he lift her for both hands, walking towards a precise destination. She follows him without protest. But he lets her pull out the blankets aside. He doesn't want to force her. But having no cases, having no obligations... it is practically impossible to hold back. -We're just us.- is the last thing they both say for the next half hour. They help each other to get out of their clothes, without haste, because they have all the time in the world, the world is theirs... or so they want to believe for that brief period, like all lovers. As it continues to snow outside, more and more dense, televisions in the other floors resound with the voices of special envoys talking about the "most intense snowstorm that has occurred in Virginia in the last thirty years". While their animals share the sofa, curling up next to each other, to warm up better. While their colleagues are engaged in a thousand different (not all) activities. While there are those who cry, those who laugh, those who die and those who are reborn.

When their clothes are a shapeless pile on the sides of the bed, they slip under the covers and remain so for a few seconds, warm, embraced and naked. Enjoying only mutual intimacy. Then she turns on her side. They look into each other's eyes. And they start kissing again. Their first kiss was sweet. Their first time is no less. They practically never stop caressing each other, only that they are no longer limited only to the area of the face. Luke pays special attention to her legs, amazing her, because she always thought that her strong point was her breast. It’s clear that she has never noticed the way he has always looked at her move, sway, walk, cross her legs. Now they are slightly ajar. Penelope, on the other hand, lets him do it for a while, standing with her head on his shoulder and leaving kisses on his muscular arms. So strong, yet capable of the most incredible kindnesses. Then she becomes more enterprising. She checks the thing that is going to get inside her. She blushes a little, feeling stupid. The man doesn’t think so, in fact he lets his fingers touch the inner thigh, before finding a new area to caress. Penelope moans his name, as he always dreamed. We cannot speak of words of complete meaning. They sound more like mysterious melodies. Luke returns the courtesy, feeling her hand move along his length. He dilates her, snatching another sigh from her. They start kissing again, silencing each other's complaints. Without him asking, she spreads her legs to welcome him. He takes a moment to caress her. They exchange one last “I love you” eyepiece. This is the real difference. A few simple de-tails. So, he slips inside her and everything seems to fade, but at the same time they see everything more clearly. Without committing the same recklessness as Leonard of The Big Bang Theory, Luke understands that he will marry Penelope, he will make her an honest woman, as they once said; he lives a sort of flashforward where he sees all his family, the team and even strangers, who appeared in his dream, then she, accompanied by Rossi to the altar where he is waiting for her. Penelope feels a similar experience, except that, instead of displaying the day of their marriage, her mind prefers to show her another part of their future together (and all these “their” are needed to strengthen the concept): the cohabitation, the routine, as it will be from now on, quick and confusing fragments, everything that has always scared her and that she has never granted to another. So how to do it without barriers. But she can't get pregnant, not that she wants a child, even if he probably wants it, or... Luke looks into her eyes as he reaches the top and this more than anything else causes her an easily recognizable shock. Although never before has it been so intense.

They don't talk, just wanting to keep their eyes closed and sleep, but the temperature doesn't recommend it. Luke hands her the pajamas, retrieving his own from the bag. He looks out of the window. White, white and still white.

Christmas Day

When Penelope opens her eyes, she sees a handsome man, who wears what looks like a suit, his hair matted, who is staring at her. -Good morning and Merry Christmas.- he tells her. She takes a moment, and not because of the glasses, to realize that it's Luke. -My love, seeing you early in the morning is the best gift you could give me.- that unexpected nickname brings to her mind the events of the previous day. All. She looks at him while he is bending to reach her lips and she kisses him back.

-You're real.- she says. He chuckles. The blonde rubs her eyes, covering a yawn with her hand. -What time is it?- she asks, remembering something else and sitting down, looking for glasses. But they aren’t on the bedside table. No... they are almost certainly on the table. Where Luke put them hours ago.

-Nine o'clock.- he replies, not understanding her agitation. -You slept so well and it was like a show.- she turns to him, trying to put the slippers each in the corresponding foot.

-Thanks, but I... I have to prepare.- she finally begins to explain. She sighs. She wouldn't have been happy to spend the whole morning, even more, all Christmas day. Her whole life in that bed with Luke? -I forgot to tell you something, yesterday and now I can't go back my word now.- he also comes out of the warmth of the blankets, following her into the living room. -I have to serve lunch for the poor.- then she adds, wearing with a sigh, this time satisfied, the blessed glasses. And now she can face his expression. -I'm sorry, I gave my approval before...- but the man literally pounces on her, falling with her on the couch. -Aren't you angry?- she asks, incredulous.

He shakes his head, running his tongue over his lips. -No, I'm... I'm... I can't even define it, especially not without using platitudes.- she just stares at him. -I have to repeat myself.- he takes her face in his cupped hands, her tiny face in his huge hands. Light and dark. Yes, opposites attract and it is not necessary that they love their similar. -You're fantastic.- she gives him a sweet smile. She is beginning to believe his compliments seriously. -This is definitely the sexiest thing I've ever heard.- now instead she chuckles, because only Luke Alvez can think that helping in the distribution of lunch for the less fortunate is a sexy thing. -Do you think two other hands could be need?- she should have expected his proposal.

She regrets not being able to please him, but she gets the so-called stroke of genius. -Maybe later, but if you went to your mass instead?- Luke thinks only one thing: my abuela would have loved her so much, if she could have known her. -So, I wouldn't feel guilty. And then you can help me fix it up, if you like.- she smiles, forcing him naturally to imitate her.

-I like your idea.- then, a change of expression. -But do we still have a few minutes?- Penelope understands where he wants to go, so they kiss each other a little more, killing two birds with one stone, ridding each other of their pajamas, flirting to end up in the shower together.

Penelope's friends from the charity are so keen when they see her arriving with that Latin stallion and two dogs, especially the girls, who soon focus their love on animals, which turn out to be a very effective cure for depression, the sadness and the many feelings that populate the thoughts of those who don’t have a home, a job and believed they had lost hope. She watches him walk towards the little church next door and thinks How can he be mine too? Then he turns around and winks at her before entering. So, she concentrates on her task, always keeping an eye on Roxy and Lou. And she understands when he is back before he puts his hands on her hips, from the commotion they make. They struggle to believe that both are federal agents and Luke wonders why she never said that. It is late afternoon when they return home. Her house, but only because there are cats waiting for them. Otherwise, one or the other would make no difference. Home is where you have the people you love. The next day, if there are no cases, he will take her to see a living Nativity. But now he stops her in the doorway.

He takes her hands in his. -I have another gift for you.- he announces, trying to ignore the flakes that fall on his head.

She opens her eyes wide. -Another one, Luke?- she asks, wondering what else he can pull out of the hat. She just hopes it's not something material. They don't need it. They gave themselves away much more last night.

-My gift is to promise you that as long as I am alive you will never spend another Christmas alone, never again.- she already feels her eyes moisten. -I don't care about the cases.- he silences the protest number one. -I can't give you back your family, but I offer you to know mine, when you want and even my love... If it will be enough for you.- she puts his hand on her heart.

-It is much more than I ever dared hope for.- she answers, instead of going around it, joking about it... or running away. -I give you my trust, my love and my support.- she caresses his cheek, drying a single solitary tear. -You'll never be alone again, Luke. And not just for Christmas.-

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ainarosewood · 5 years

Text

Prompt # 21 Crunch Rescue

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Spoilers for the Seventh Astral Era MSQs below the cut. And a slight variant on the beginning of the quest Coming to Terms

*note* Normally Lelulu will have all three of her carbuncles traveling with her. However the strain of maintain all in a combat situation tends to be too much so she will usually have Thyrus her topaz one out unless she is in a party then it will either be Artemis(emerald) or Lilith(ruby) depending on combat need.

Aymeric stood with his back to Lucia corpses of dragons surrounding them and there still seemed no end to them. His breath ragged his ribs likely crushed from the one of the crushing maws of the scalekin.

They had been riding out to Camp Dragonhead to meet with the commander of the Crystal Braves and the esteemed Warrior of Light. Unfortunately it seemed Svara one of the Hordes strongest lieutenants had other ideas and attacked the encampment even as he as his second arrived. Seeing that the forces were beleaguered by the dragons assault he and Lucia joined the fray, only to be isolated from the bulk of the knights and now found themselves alone facing down a continuous tide of dragons.

“Lord Commander we must find a way to withdraw..” Lucia gasped her shield arm dangling useless at her side her sword wavering in her other hand. Exhaustion from the extended battle clearly taking its toll on the woman.

“I am well aware,” he wheezed as he thrust Naegling down the throat of a charging biast. , “But I doubt they will avail us an opportunity,”

Suddenly three dragonflys rushed him at once and he swung Naegling in an effort to driver them back falling to his knees as white hot pain seared though his chest robbing him of strength and breath. He braced himself awaiting the dragons to tear him asunder when he was surprised to hear the crunch of a swift moving chocobo upon the bloodstained snow.

The dragons reeled back as a petite golden blur slammed into them knocking them to the ground. When his eyes cleared of the pain he saw a small carbuncle standing between him, his second and the dragons. The construct suddenly jumped into the air spun on itself and then upon its landing the ground erupted in a golden glow the beasts snarling in pain as they tried to cross that ring to continue their attack. They were thwarted by spikes of stone summoned up by the little carbuncle. Shortly behind the aetheric consrtuct charged in a chocobo the little bird slashing and pecking as it went seeming to have no fear of the dragons that could possibly eat it whole.

Then spells few from behind the construct slamming into the lead dragon causing it to retch and writhe and in an explosion of purple it spread to all the nearby beasts. Several more seeing what was happening to their brethren fell back seeking other targets not wishing to be caught in the same beldam that their brethren were in. In a matter of moments the dragons fell still succumbing to the virulence of the contagions of the spells.

Once the drakes had fallen the carbuncle jumped and vanished in a burst of aether and a similar burst came from the direction of the caster of the spells. Suddenly he and his second were surrounded by a shimmering blue dome. Shortly after a diminutive being that could only be described as a fairy flew over and began casting upon him and Lucia. In between its casts he felt other healing spells being placed on him. Within a few moments he found he had no more pain and he could see Lucia moving her formally broken arm.

Finally able to he turned around to see a lalafel standing nearby a book drawn in her hand. She was tall for her kin, with chestnut shoulder length locks and mismatched eyes of gold and blue. The catlike pupils showed she was of the plainsfolk clan. She was dressed in a ramie doublet and gaskins dyed in tones to match her hair.

“You have my thanks,” he murmured to her

She gave him a silent nod then, a swirl of aether surrounded her and her ramie doubled changed slightly in style the fairy dissipating in a flash of white. She opened the tome and swung her hand forward intoning a spell causing the golden carbuncle to jump forth out of a burst of aether. She then charged forward into the nearby fray the little chocobo running beside her and once again rushing the foes with the carbuncle.

Following her he and Lucia joined the forces and drove back the horde all the way to Providence Point. Once there Svara herself descended attempting to attack the cannons as the force charged her and in the end put her down. In the chaos of the battle he had lost sight of the lalafel who save them.

Finally the dragon force defeated he and Lucia made their way to the camp wounded knights being rushed hither and yon for treatment. Upon being sighted they were immediately directed to Lord Haunchefaut the elezen knight notably agitated and elated.

“Sir Aymeric,” he called cheerfully, “Master Alphinaud is awaiting us in the Intersessory. The Warrior of Light will be there shortly after she finishes aiding the churigeons with the wounded.”

Aymeric followed the knight into the Intersessory to see a young white haired elezen standing there smiling on their entry.

“Commander Leveilleur. It is both an honor and a pleasure to meet you.” Aymeric said warming, “I am Aymeric, lord commander of the Temple Knights.”

“Alphinaud Leveilleur at your service,” the boy responded then all of them turned as the door opened once more and the very same lalafel who had saved Aymeric and Lucia had stode in a golden, emerald and ruby carbuncle in tow.

“Sir Aymeric, allow me to introduce my esteemed colleague Lelulu Lulu the Warrior of Light,” the lad began

Aymeric gave a warm smile, “We’ve already met after a fashion. Pray once again allow me to thank you for your timely rescue,”

She smiled cheerfully stating, “I merely was aiding those I saw in need.” She then motioned to the carbuncles, “Allow me to introduce Thyrus, shes the one who held back the drakes, Artemis and Lilith,”

All three constructs chimed a greeting at him then obediently went over to the nearby table sitting around one chair as he inclined his head in response to them.

“Shall we take a seat?” Haunchefaunt asked motioning to the table where the carbuncles now sat. As they all took their seats Alphinaud started by saying, “Your reputation proceeds you Sir Aymeric. I think we will find that we have much in common.”

Aymeric turned to Lelulu stating, “Speaking of reputations yours towers above us all does it not?”

“It does indeed lord commander, “ Lucia stated an amused smile playing on her lips.

Aymeric smiled warmly stating, “I am not too proud to admit that I have followed your activities with an interest bordering on fascination. Full glad am I that you would be joining us.”

Lelulu blushed then said, “I believe you and Alphinaud have much to discuss do you not Lord Commander,”

He gave a hearty laugh, “Aye indeed, well Commander Leveilluer shall you begin or shall I”

“The floor is yours lord commander,” the young elezen replied his curiosity at the nature of this meeting clear in his eyes. He’s one to be careful with, Aymeric thought to himself as he began explaining the reason he had asked to speak to them.

#FFxivWrite2019 #OC Lelulu Lulu #MSQ Spoilers #Aymeric #Hauchefaunt #Alphinaud #Lucia

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do-what-the-knight-tells-you · 5 years

Text

Broadchurch: the short story collections. Part 1

Available over here.

The first book contains four short stories, all of which take place before S2, so if you want to read this, it might be nice before re-watching S2.

1- “The End Is Where it Begins”, Ellie, After S1: how she comes to transfer precints and end up as the traffic cop we see in S02E01.

2- “The Letter”, Maggie, a few days before S2: STruggles with Echo finances, works on a story, thinks about resigning.

3- “Old Friends”, Jocelyn, 10-20 years before S1: insight into her past, her career, her character, Jack Marshall, and what was going on in town around the time Danny and Tom were born.

4- “Over the Side”, Tess, months before S1 (three days into the Sandbrook case): a twenty-four hour window into that case, her perspective on the case, her affair, and Alec’s behavior/character/etc at that time. This is the night Pippa’s body is found, from her perspective.

I’ve included summaries, my notes, excerpts, and other Things Of Interest under the readmore. this book was interesting, short, and very worth the read, for me!

1. Ellie- Between S1 and S2.

“Going back into uniform was Ellie's choice, but it usually means demotion. It’s shorthand for disgrace. As far as Ellie is concerned, the uniform helps. Her collar and cravat help her hold he head up high, and she walks easily in regulation flat shoes. This is a move sideways, not downward; she’s still a Sergeant. Her salary stays the same, and that’s important. Ellie’s staring down the barrel of single parenthood, paying for the childcare Joe used to do for free. Resigning would mean sacrificing her pension, and with a good fifteen years of service left in her, that’s not an option. “But there’s more to it than the money. It doesn’t feel right to go back into CID until Joe’s been sentenced. She’s never told anyone this, but it feels like that way, she’ll be able to put Danny behind her. But going into uniform, that felt right. Ellie understands now what Hardy meant about atonement. [Look! Thinking about him!] by serving another community, she can atone for what Joe did to her own. Leaving the force, taking a sabbatical, all the other things tat people told her to do: none of these was an option. This move is, above all else, a massive /fuck you/ to Joe. Fifteen years, Ellie's been on the force. When he took Danny’s life, he took Ellie's best friend, their community, and her eldest son. She will not let him have her career as well.”

And in the car with her new loudmouth partner: “after ten minutes she finds herself yearning for Alec Hardy’s brooding and sulks. At least he was quiet. She wonders where Hardy is now: under a doctor’s observation somewhere, she hopes, contemplating the salvage of his own career from the confines of a hospital bed.”

In general her new partner is a bit of a sexist good-old-boy who thinks the problem with youth today is the welfare state... She thinks the problem is lack of outreach and enrichment. She is struggling to get everything in line in her life.

Tom’s voice breaks while they are separated. And her heart breaks to have missed that.

She successfully overrides her partner, follows her instincts, and saves a family, some kids, from a domestic situ while on the job… and then falls to fucking pieces after. Realizes she doesn’t have the emotional fortitude to handle cases without breaking, right now. Calls in sick, and then transfers to traffic. “She is bitterly aware of the irony that while she has gained her colleagues’ respect, she now understands that she doesn’t deserve it. It’s either this or leave the force, and then Joe’s won. She is hanging onto her career by her fingernails, marking time until his plea next week. “Ellie has always prided herself on putting people before anything else but life as a black rat is about enforcing the letter of the law, or rather its numbers. She’s reduced to the digits and codes of traffic policing: stopping distances, speed limits, milligrams of alcohol and penalty points. Even her fellow traffic officers, infamous for their pedantry, started calling her robocop after he first shift. “Inside Ellie's locker, there’s a photograph of Tom and Fred before the blast. She marks a tally on the picture’s white border, inky scratches in the gloss, to count down the days until Joe stands in the dock at Wessex County court and says the magic word that will give her back her son.”

Aw hell, Ellie.

2- Maggie- A few days before S2 begins.

Budget cuts are crippling the Echo. Finally, she is ready to submit her resignation in protest, but a story she runs down locally (to do with land use, and, eventually, marijuana), turns out to be leveragable to do some good in town, force some good change, and she figures that's still worth doing, so she'll hang in a little longer.

No mention of Lil, so, still not sure when they broke up/if they are split... oh, and a passing mention of Jocelyn's home. Just, that it is there.

3- Jocelyn- Her story is set farther back, but is fascinating. It's set partially at least twenty, twenty five years pre-S1, and then partially right around the time that Danny Latimer was born.

It's a little window into who Jocelyn was at that time and what she did. Talks about her outlook on her career, her relationship with her mother, her habit of spending no more than four bank holidays a year in Broadchurch, and staying in London, her preference, her work, the rest of the time.

Also, it turns out she represented Jack Marshall and convinced him to plead guilty so that he would get a shorter jail sentence and get back to the Rowena faster, which he did, and then married her.

Jocelyn was quite reserved even then, but they kept in touch and Jack confided in her after the accident that took his son's life and caused their split, that he needed a new place to go... She suggested Broadchurch because she knew the newsstand was up for sale.

The last scene of the short story is her visiting him at the newsstand. She's noticed her vision is starting to go, she's watching the Latimers with their three-day-old baby boy walk along the beach.

There are references to lots of things and folks there in town, throughout the story, the sea brigade, Oliver, the fact that she's lost touch with Maggie long since and she's a bit grateful for that because otherwise Maggie would surely have sniffed out her connection to Jack and outed Jack's past to everyone. Oh, and Ellie is 10 days overdue and fit to burst with Tom and so Beth (Beth and Ellie had become friends in their pre/antenatal classes) had been dropping by with Danny over there, hoping that holding Danny would maybe induce labor.

... and finally.

4- Tess- Day 3 of the Sandbrook case, well before S1

I didn't look ahead, I totally had no idea that this was coming. But this is Tess' side of a 24-hour period from the Sandbrook case. I'm going to sum some of it, and then I'm probably just going to end up posting big chunks of it. Or you can go read it yourself. That's good too. XD

It's April 2012, day 3 after the Sandbrook girls disappear. She and the other DS she's cheating with were getting it on, for what was clearly not the first time, in the backseat of his car. Made a comment about the fact it next time they would take it back to the hotel, doing it in the car was foolish and uncomfortable. Which also seems to imply that this is a regular thing. Tess thinks a bit on the fact that Dave is present with her in a way Alec isn't, though she feels guilty about all of it.

The cheating is a release for her, like other people might smoke a cigarette or go for a run. She knows Alec is really struggling with how close in age Pippa is to Daisy.

"Alec works sixteen-hour days, forgets to eat, and gets angry. She hasn’t seen him since they got the shout two days ago. He’s sleeping on the sofa in his office, if he’s sleeping at all. At least Tess got four hours in her own bed last night and a shower in her own bathroom. Daisy was staying with a friend; Tess and Alec rely a lot on the generosity of friends’ parents in the first few chaotic days of a case. The house was too quiet this morning. It’s strange; Alec can stay away for days and Tess feels nothing but relief, but Daisy sleeping somewhere else feels wrong."

Tess knows what Alec is like on these cases. Her affair with what's-his-face went on much longer than the case itself. I’d guess months, at least, prior to this story.

"She hasn’t seen Alec since last night. Tess hopes he’s not in the office. The chances are small; as Senior Investigating Officer, he likes to work the field as much as possible. They used to work so well together – professionally, at least, she’s never been more compatible with another officer, and that includes Dave – but at the moment she can’t concentrate if Alec’s even in the same building. Dave sits opposite her at work, and Alec’s got the corner office just behind them. Every time he walks past, she shrivels with guilt and with contempt for her husband. Guilt over the adultery, contempt that Alec can’t see it.

[Lends more weight to Hardy’s perception of the affair, as we saw it in the S1 novelization-- namely that it was shameful, that he felt ashamed to have been cheated on. I bet she says/said something nasty, along these lines, and he internalizes it]

“If she and Dave so much as brushed past each other at a crime scene, he’d notice. That’s the problem in a nutshell: the tunnel vision that makes him a brilliant detective means he hasn’t seen Tess – really seen her – in years."

[Oh God, I see where this is going. This is the night he finds Pippa, isn't it?]

‘Where’s Alec?’ Tess asks Chrissie, a fellow DS who’s already got three empty mugs on her desk. Chrissie creases her brow. As always, whenever Tess refers to her husband by his first name, it takes her colleague a few seconds to get who she means. But what else can she call him? She can’t call him Hardy and she’s damned if she’ll call him the boss or the guvnor.

[”Guvnor”? is this a British thing, or personal nickname? if the latter, Ellie would laugh herself sick over it, if she ever found out.]

“Chrissie checks a memo on her screen.

“‘He’s overseeing a fingertip search of the river Sandbrook.’

“‘The Sandbrook?’ echoes Tess. It’s right on the edge of their patch, a slow-flowing river with great stretches straying miles from the nearest road and barely accessible on foot. ‘On what basis?’

“‘On the basis of it’s the only open space left on our ground that we haven’t covered, and there’s still no trace of either girl,’ says Chrissie grimly, her eyes travelling to the clock. Tess flinches at the reminder of how far behind they are, and boots up her computer, not wanting to waste another minute. When Dave comes in, she looks up with a cool hello...”

She thinks about potential leads in the case, she interacts with Dave a little bit, mostly through facial expressions. And then

“Tess is giving Dave one more warning look when his phone rings. His face loses its colour as he listens; Tess pulls out her earplugs but the call is already over.

“‘That was the boss,’ says Dave, pushing his chair away from his desk, car keys in hand. ‘They’ve found the body of a young girl in the Sandbrook.’

“South Mercia University Hospital is across the dual carriageway from the police station, eight storeys of white concrete and foggy windows.

“‘I knew it’d be murder,’ says Dave, as they get into a lift marked STAFF ONLY. ‘I knew from the first shout, but it doesn’t stop you hoping, does it?’

“‘You always hope,’ says Tess. ‘But I can’t remember hoping like this for a long time.’ Dave reaches for her hand and circles his thumb on her palm.

“‘You OK, babe?’ His tenderness melts her, but she can only squeeze his fingers in reply. She can’t afford to soften now. The lift spits them out two floors underground and Tess and Dave walk through a dingy yellow corridor lit with flickering strip lights. It is maybe ten degrees colder here than in the station. This is not the way to the viewing room, where victims’ families see their loved ones still beneath a white sheet. This long walk is for the professionals, the dealers in death. There is nothing beautiful down here: a few laundry bags piled in a trolley, a mop and bucket and a yellow CLEANING IN PROGRESS sign. Tess tries very hard not to think about what gets mopped up down here.

“‘I don’t understand why it’s just the one body,’ she says. ‘Nothing about this case makes sense.’

“‘Just the one body so far,’ Dave corrects her. There’s another fire door ahead; he lengthens his stride to open it for her. Tess isn’t used to these little chivalrous touches. She is astonished to find that she quite likes them.

“‘Did Alec say if he was staying to continue the search?’

“‘He pretty much hung up.’ Dave bites his lip. ‘I’m sure he knows, sometimes, the way he talks to me.’ Tess shakes her head.

“‘That’s how he talks to everyone.’ But she shakes her shoulders, as though to recalibrate her body language, and by the time they get to the end of the corridor, there’s a big space between her and Dave. When – if – they go public, it must be a long, long time after this case has been put to bed. A technician in mint scrubs is waiting behind a glass door; she punches a number into the keypad to let them in.

“‘Five minutes,’ says the technician. Her voice is steady but she looks like she’s been crying. ‘Dr Kendall’s just preparing her now. You can wait up here.’

“Tess and Dave follow the technician on tiptoe up a short flight of stairs. In the viewing gallery, there’s a row of seats, almost like in a cinema, and the blind is down on the panoramic window so it looks like a blank blue screen. There are a handful of flattened paper bags on the table. Waiting for them is Sanjeev, a newish DC. He’s not long out of uniform so he won’t have worked a case like this before. Tess hasn’t spent much time with him, but she knows Alec really rates him. There’s a weird, stale, boggy smell and for a moment Tess retches, thinking it’s the dead-body-rotting smell she dreads so much. It takes her a few seconds to recognise the smell of stagnant river water, and that it’s coming from Sanj.

“‘Sarge,’ says Sanj to Tess. ‘How comes you’re not upstairs with the boss?’ Tess doesn’t bother to hide her confusion.

“‘What’s he doing upstairs?’

“‘Don’t panic,’ says Sanj. Immediately Tess starts to panic. ‘It’s just a precaution. He got into difficulties in the water.’

“Tess is bewildered. ‘What was he even doing in the water?’

“‘He found her,’ says Sanj, dipping his head. ‘Pippa’s body. He carried her out. You know what he’s like, he stalks off on his own, all impatient, no one can ever work fast enough for him. We didn’t even know he’d gone until he’d got her out. He reckons he went under a few times. He took in a lot of water and they’ve got to be careful about it being in his lungs, or Weil’s disease or something.’ Sanj looks down at his feet; he flexes them, and his shoes squelch. Tess is rooted to the spot, horrified at what Alec must have been through today. She is torn. Instinct urges her to go and check on him; after fourteen years of marriage, you can’t just turn off the concern like a tap. But he’ll be in good hands. He probably won’t even want her, he hates being fussed over. And with him indisposed, she’s the senior officer.

“She’s still debating with herself when the blinds go up and the theatre is revealed in all its spot-lit, chrome glory, and there, splayed on the slab is— Tess’s vision blurs. There’s a whole team of people, but the pathologist and his team, in their scrubs, are reduced to green blobs. Tess can’t look at anything but Pippa Gillespie’s body. It doesn’t look human. It has been completely bloated by the water; her face is swollen and grey, her limbs pasty and distended. Water has matted her hair and dirt outlines her nails. Tess thinks of the picture they have on the board, that perfect little girl, playing tennis, golden skin, long brown hair, and it is all that she can do to stand. She’s seen bodies destroyed by water before, but never one this young. Tears try to push their way out of her eyes but Tess pushes back harder. She’ll cry later, in front of Dave, but she won’t fall apart in public. She gives silent thanks that Pippa can be identified forensically. Her mother will never have to see her like this.

“She steps up to the microphone, forcing her voice to hold steady.

“‘DS Tess Henchard,’ she says. ‘Is there anything you can tell us just by looking at her?’ Dr Kendall looks up to the gallery and nods hello.

“‘Only that she’s been in the water for at least two days.’ There’s a tenderness in his voice at odds with the gleaming surgical instruments in the tray behind him. ‘So that narrows down your time of death, I suppose. As for the cause … I’ll be frank with you, Sergeant. There’s no obvious wound. Water covers death’s tracks. It gets into the body through the orifices and starts decomposing from the inside as well as out. It affects the tox report. We will work quickly, and to the highest standard, but I can’t guarantee that we’ll find the cause of death. Let’s talk in the morning.’

“‘Christ.’ She pushes the heels of her hands onto closed eyes, but the image of Pippa’s face is imprinted on the back of her eyelids. She looks to the door; she ought to check on Alec, for form’s sake as much as anything. Dave doesn’t need to be told what she’s thinking.

“‘I’ve got this,’ he says. ‘You go to him.’ It is possibly the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for her. He places a hand on her arm, a light gesture but it’s not lost on Sanj. Tess notes his double take, then watches as the horror below wipes the suspicion from his mind, for now at least. She leaves Dave and Sanj to watch the post-mortem.

“In the lift, her legs go. She has pulled herself to her feet by the time she gets to the front desk. The receptionist points her towards Accident and Emergency. Tess concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, reading the signs, breathing through her mouth, and trying to close her mind’s eye to the sight of Pippa Gillespie’s body, but the image is imprinted on her for ever. Her badge helps her to jump the queue – she can’t help thinking she gets more respect from the triage receptionist as a Detective Sergeant than she would as a wife – but it still takes her the best part of an hour to find out that Alec has discharged himself. She boils with rage – if he’s gone back to the scene with his health in tatters, she’ll kill him. She asks to see the registrar who treated him; another half-hour wait.

“She calls Daisy, who’s still at Molly’s. They’re lucky she’s popular. If she has dinner with a different friend every night, that can take them ten days into a case. After that, repeat requests usually get awkward. This time, though, everyone knows the case they’re working on. Friends are falling over themselves to have Daisy for the evening, offering sleepovers, weekend shifts, school pickups. ‘Whatever helps you find those girls’ is the phrase they hear again and again. Tess hopes the goodwill continues into the murder inquiry. Lately, she’s been wondering if the hospitality would extend to a single mother trying to juggle shifts around work and a new relationship.

“‘It’ll be a little while yet,’ says Tess. ‘Home in time to see you to bed, though.’ ‘Have you found her?’ says Daisy. She has become fixated on Pippa Gillespie; she knows they’re the same age, and she can see what the case is already doing to her parents, three days in. Tess feels a pang for the innocent days when Daisy thought that all they did was direct traffic. Tess and Alec naturally never tell Daisy anything before it’s released to the media. ‘Not yet, sweetie,’ she says. ‘Be good for Molly’s mum.’

“Eventually, the registrar comes in, a young man smelling of coffee and sweat. There’s a comet of blood on his white coat. ‘Mr Hardy discharged himself against my recommendation,’ he says. ‘I’m telling you because I’m concerned for his health. Physically, he was fine. I mean, the water doesn’t seem to have done any lasting damage. But he’s suffering from acute stress, and there are more tests we’d like to run. With anyone else I’d recommend that he take time off work, but …’ He spreads his hands. Tess doesn’t know whether he’s implying that the case is more important than one man’s health, or whether he’s simply got the measure of Alec already and knows his advice would fall on deaf ears.

“There’s a voicemail on her phone from Alec’s second in command, DS Beauman, wishing the boss well and telling him that they’ve got SOCO in now. Alec hasn’t gone back to the crime scene. So where is he? Alec is not at home and he’s not answering his phone. Tess sees Daisy off to bed and opens a bottle of red. She searches Google maps on her iPad, scrolling up and down the length of the Sandbrook looking for patterns, clues, inspiration, until she feels dizzy.

“She calls the incident room; Sanj answers and immediately asks after Alec. So he’s not there. Dave’s working the scene at the Sandbrook; she texts him to see if Alec’s turned up, then again to see if they’ve found anything new. Both questions come back negative. She deletes the message thread out of habit even though this time there’s nothing incriminating.

“She’s really starting to worry now. This disappearance is completely unprecedented. She pictures him collapsed behind the wheel somewhere en route to the Sandbrook, and she works herself up into a fury. For all his dedication to his job, he neglects what ought to be his number one priority: making sure he’s in good enough health to do it. There’s real fear under her concern, though, and she’s about to call the hospital when she hears his car on the driveway. It’s 10 p.m.

“As his key turns in the door, she’s waiting for him in the hall. The sight of him makes her stagger. He’s wearing a grey tracksuit, the police-station-issue kind they give to people whose clothes have been seized as evidence. The trousers are too short and his ankles are exposed, making him look ridiculous. His hair is plastered down.

“She stopped touching Alec a while ago--”

[Oh god, I remember that comment in the first novelization, that Miller is the first person to take his hand in so long he couldn’t remember...]

“-- it started to feel like betraying Dave-- and he doesn’t seem to have noticed, or to miss it.”

[Oh God.]

“She hesitates before going to hug him, and when she opens her arms, Alec folds his and shakes his head. Dave wouldn’t do this, is her first reflex thought.

“‘Where’ve you been? she asks. It was supposed to come out concerned but it sounds derogatory.

“Alec pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes nd lets them stay that way. ‘Driving.’

“It’s five hours since he discharged himself from hospital. The thought of him going round and around the ring road in these clothes tugs at the leftovers of her love.

“‘Oh, Alec. What about your clothes?’

“He nods to a clear plastic bag on the doorstep. INside, weeds are wrapped around clothes so muddied that Tess has to think back to what he was wearing when he left for work this morning. His new blue suit. They’ll have to throw it out. Even if the can get it clean, she knows he’ll never be able to wear it again.

“When he pushes past her into the house, Tess can smell the soap from the police station showers on him.

“‘D’you wan to talk about it?’ She pours Alec the last of the wine. He looks into its dark red surface like he’s seeing through it into something else.

“’I saw her in the mortuary,’ says Tess, ‘It must have been awful for you.’ Alec doesn’t even blink. Dave or no Dave, Tess recognises a man who needs human touch. She puts her hands on his shoulders. When they first got together, she used to massage his shoulder blades at the end of every day, feeling the knots unravel under her fingers.

[An interesting detail.]

“He used to say she had the magic touch, that no one else could relax him like she did. Now, he shrugs her off.

“‘ I’m going to check on Daisy.’

“Tess follows him upstairs and they stand at Daisy’s open bedroom door for a while. She is asleep under a garland of IKEA fairy lights, watched over by a peeling Taylor Swift poster. The tweenage sneer she wears all day has vanished. Her lips are an open rose; her brow is smooth. The difference between their perfect sleeping daughter and the deformed corpse of Pippa Gillespie hits Tess in the guts.

“‘Is she breathing?’ Alec asks suddenly, an octave higher than his usual register. ‘I can’t see her moving.’ Before Tess understands what’s happening, he’s kneeling at Daisy’s bedside. He used to do this when she was a baby, leap out of bed to check she was still alive. Tess had completely forgotten about it until now.

[That’s interesting, does he have past trauma with stuff like that? seems like he already had dead-kid PTSD BEFORE he went into the river after Pippa Gillespie. poor sucker...]

“’She’s not moving!’ He puts his hands on Daisy’s shoulders.

“’Alec, stop it!’ Tess keeps her voice to a whisper even though his was a shout, but it’s too late, he’s already shaking her awake. Daisy’s body flops, but her eyes snap wide.

“‘Daddy, what are you doing?’ She says, as Alec pulls her into a clumsy embrace and buries his face in her nightie.Tess doesn’t have enough hands as she tries to pull him off and calm Daisy at the same time.

[LET THE MAN HUG HIS DAUGHTER]

“In the end, she has to tug at the collar of his tracksuit top. The pressure on his windpipe seems to knock the panic out of him, and he lets Daisy go.

“‘Out,’ snarls Tess.

“‘I’m sorry, darling.’ Alec walks backwards towards the door. ‘I just needed to make sure you were OK.’

“It only takes Tess a couple of minutes to soothe Daisy back to sleep; she’s confused rather than frightened, still young enough that a few soft words from her mother can chase the monsters away, and Tess hopes that in the morning they’ll be able to dismiss it as a bad dream. She waits until Daisy’s breathing regulates, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her daughter’s ear, and tiptoes out onto the landing.

“Alec sits in the half-dark like a little boy, his knees pulled up to his chest, leaning against the wall as if he has slid down it. Tess kneels next to him on the carpet. His eyes glitter.

“‘I can still see her face,’ he says. He holds out his arms in front if him, palms upwards, elbows bent. ‘I can still feel the weight of her.’ Tess pulls him against her shoulder; he resists for a moment, then collapses and weeps into her neck. This time when she reaches around and starts to work on the muscles in his shoulders, he lets her. His back feels like a sheet of metal; she keeps going until her fingers ache and she starts to feel bone and sinew under his sweatshirt.

[How is this man constantly portrayed/described as looking like he is shit warmed over, and yet he is one of the most compelling/interesting/attractive characters Tennant has ever played???]

“When Tess shifts position, Alec seems to gather himself, like he’s let out exactly the amount of emotion that was clouding his judgement, and not a drop more. He doesn’t move his head from her breast, but there’s an edge to his voice that almost thrills her.

“‘We’re no longer dealing with a missing persons inquiry. We know where we stand now. We’ll get this.’ Without warning, he leaps to his feet. ‘We know who we’re dealing with now. A monster, someone who can leave a child to rot in a river.’ He starts to pace, his ridiculous bare ankles going backwards and forwards in Tess’s eyeline. ‘This is what we trained for, isn’t it? to get justice for families like this.’

“His new confidence is infectious. Tess often forgets, in all the frustration of living with Alec, what a brilliant detective he is. Or rather, she forgets why he’s so good at his job. It’s the quality that first attracted her to him, that pure, almost old-fashioned belief that good can vanquish evil.

“He is a good detective because, underneath it all, he is a good man.

“It’s going to make leaving him so much harder.”

...

Ouch.

See you next time!

#Broadchurch #broadchurch resources

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nori-king · 5 years

Text

i. no halo / personal

“the dust and dirt blind us slowly, but give a hint of a view to make it feel alright. and though it hurts, we keep on climbing. ‘cause our addictions take us from inside. a sturdy back, but brittle bones. too weak to show.” – KILL OUR WAY TO HEAVEN, MICHL

Wednesday, May 1st 2019, 6:17PM Wexler-Carsons Psychotherapy Practice

It came unexpected, a faint knock at the door to Eleanor’s office. She’d been so engrossed in reading her new patient’s file over and over again that she almost missed it. But sure enough, her head snapped up just as the door opened. She was disappointed to find her colleague, Shane, rather than the boy she’d been expecting for 17 minutes, now. “Nori... are you seriously still waiting on him?” he inquired as he readjusted his satchel on his shoulder. All he got in response was a soft sigh from the blonde-haired woman. “Look, it’s been seventeen minutes, just accept that your Moon boy’s a no-show and come out with us, we’re all heading down to that new Italian joint, the one that just opened? Heard their chicken parm is out of this world!” His enthusiastic mannerisms earned him a few laughs from his colleague. “Mhm, maybe you’re right, Shane. But sorry, I can’t tonight. I have a few things I need to tidy up in my office anyway, but I promise that I’ll go home after that, okay? I won’t wait a minute longer”, Eleanor hoped her words came across as sincere, a hopeful grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Fine, you win this round, King. But I’m not giving up on you yet!” Shane winked, making her giggle some more. Just as she was about to tease him some, his head vanished from the door frame, hand still holding the door open. He popped it back in with slightly wider eyes. “Hey, uh... is there any chance your Moon boy is some angry-looking Asian kid?” Eleanor’s brows furrowed together, faint confusion clouding her features, but before she could wonder any more, the door flew open on that very same angry-looking Asian kid, who shoulder checked Shane on his way in. He barely spared the two therapists a glance and just went straight for the patient’s chair, removed his backpack and threw it on the ground. “Well... uh... I’ll leave you two to it, then. Goodnight, Nori”, was all Shane could provide her with as he closed the door on his way out. A deafening silence fell onto both Eleanor and her newest patient, only his heavy breathing being heard throughout her office.

“...I take it you’re Jaemin Moon?” She tried, getting up from her desk and stepping closer to settle down in the chair opposite him. The boy remained silent, eyes darting around the room as if looking for the nearest emergency exit. Eleanor took this opportunity to scrutinize his appearance.

He was wearing light grey sweatpants and an oversized, black long-sleeved shirt. His hair seemed disheveled, a light sheen of sweat glistening against his tan skin. His brows were knitted together in what she assumed was a perpetual frown, from his aura alone. She recalled his file saying he’d turned twenty this past September, so he was still young, and it was evident by his spotless complexion. His leg was bouncing incessantly, and Nori took mental note of it.

“I’m Eleanor, delighted to make your acquaintance”, she extended a hand his way, a peace offering of sorts, but was met with nothing but more of that same silence that had been looming over both their heads for the past five minutes. She sat back in her chair with a quiet breath and started mulling over the methods she could deploy to at least get a look from the boy; anything.

“I’m happy you’ve decided to show, but for future reference, fifteen minutes is my limit. This is your first time, so... I wanted to give you a chance, you know... make sure you didn’t get cold feet or anything. I know going to therapy can be a scary experience, but I’m happy you’ve decided to come-”, she rambled on until her client cut in.

“Oh, I didn’t decide to come. I was forced to come”, were the first words Jaemin aimed at her, eyes narrowed. Even if he hadn’t said anything inherently bad, his pointed timbre made all of his words sound like an insult. “For future reference”, he started, mocking her previous use of the saying, “I won’t be coming back, so might as well not waste both of our times, don’t you think?”

Eleanor’s mouth opened, a sentence on the tip of her tongue and ready to spill out, but she stopped herself and, instead, only got up to retrieve Jaemin’s file from the top of her desk. She flipped through it without any haste as she made her way back to him. “It says here that your mother called to make the appointment. But you’re twenty years old... you’re of legal age. If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to”, Nori tilted her head to the side a little, peering back at her patient.

“But I do”, he replied flatly.

“But you don’t”, she counterattacked, eyebrow quirked in sudden interest.

“You don’t know shit about my life, lady. I don’t wanna be here, who the fuck in their right mind would wanna sit here for an hour and be psycho-analyzed when they’re totally normal?” Jaemin barked back, and Eleanor took note of the way his hands clasped around the armrests of his seat.

“Totally normal like...” King trailed off, scouring further through his file. “Like talking back, being aggressive and instigating a fight at-” She cut her own words short, eyes flickering between Jaemin and his file. “A ball? Did you attend James Houston’s masquerade ball?” She couldn’t hold back a tiny grin at the thought. James just so happened to be someone Eleanor was entirely familiar with, someone she respected and admired. Jaemin knowing him could be her only link to him, or at least a good method to get him to talk.

“Listen, I’m allowed freedom of fucking speech, I don’t have to suck up to everyone I meet and I didn’t instigate shit at the ball”, Moon leaned back in his chair, and Eleanor didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched; this was a touchy subject.

“You’re absolutely right. I’m just reading off my file for now, but I’ll make my own conclusions as I get to know you more and more. Those were the concerns your mother shared with us when booking your appointment. Would you say they’re unfounded?” She brought the end of her pen to her lips, caressed them with it as she awaited an answer.

“I’d say I don’t fucking care what you, or her, think, Eleanor. How much longer do I have to be here?” The younger of the two was getting impatient, it was clear to see in the way he was fidgeting in his seat. He’d switched positions maybe three times in the span of ten seconds.

“Jaemin, your hour just began”, Dr. King glanced down at her watch, then back at him. “Fifty five minutes”, the declaration made her patient sigh deeply.

“Jesus fucking Christ, alright. Well... I showed up”, he conceded, letting his head fall back onto the backrest of his chair. Eleanor observed him quietly, unable to bite back a smile.

“You did. I’m glad you did”, she tried to be encouraging, but to no avail.

“That makes precisely one of us”, Moon fished his phone out of his pocket, sitting back up straight. He unlocked it and started typing away, and Eleanor had to admit, this was the first time a patient outright texted during a session.

“Jaemin...? Could you put that away, please?” Despite being annoyed, her tone remained calm, kind. She gazed back and forth between the boy and his phone when he made no movement whatsoever, didn’t even react to her request. “Jaem-”

“The fuck you want? I told you I don’t need this, I’m just here to satisfy my folks, that’s it. I don’t need to talk to you”, he didn’t even spare her a single glance, eyes focused on his phone’s screen.

“I can tell you believe this is pointless, but even the healthiest of people seek out therapy from time to time. It’s a good way to unload, and you seem to have a lot on your mind. I noticed you seemed uncomfortable when I brought up the ball-”

“You didn’t notice shit”, Nori’s patient hissed, and he’d put his phone down to glare at her. That was an improvement... sort of. It surely was better than silence.

“You said you didn’t care, but whatever happened there played a big part in our meeting, so I doubt it was as uneventful as you’re painting it out to be. What happened at the ball?” She tried to pry further, notepad securely in her hands.

“Nothing. Fucking. Happened. Will you just drop it? Who cares about the stupid ball?! It was a shit show. I didn’t have high expectations, and even then it still managed to go below them”, Jaemin threw his hands up in exasperation, his tone lower than before, maybe an unconscious attempt to seem more intimidating.

No matter how much he frowned, huffed and puffed, Eleanor wasn’t buying it. There was something so delicate, so gentle about his gaze, even if he’d done nothing but scowl at her during the entirety of their session so far. His eyes were dark, bordering on black, and they reflected every single source of light in the room, making it look like he was holding entire galaxies behind his irises. They were big and round, evoked innocence, even when squinted with the intent to threaten. His features, although carved and defined, were somewhat soft. Eleanor could only imagine how brightly he shined when smiling. But the more time they spent together, the less she had any hope of ever seeing that smile.

“If you were so unimpressed, why did you attend?” She questioned.

“My parents asked me to, that’s it.”

“Does that mean you don’t know the host personally?” It was difficult to miss the way Jaemin flinched at the mention of James, and Nori made sure to take note of it. She anticipated a response, having gotten used to Jaemin’s rapid answers, but was startled to be met with another bout of silence. “Are you always so diligent in following your parents’ request, Jaemin?” Nothing but more silence, her client’s nails digging into the armrest of his chair. So she tried again. “Um... James, then. You know hi-”

“Can we not fucking talk about Houston? If this is my hour, I’d rather not spend it talking about that fag”, he grumbled, leaving Eleanor speechless.

“That’s a truly awful thing to say. I’d appreciate it if you would refrain from using slurs in my presence... or ever, for that matter.”

“God, why’s everyone so pissy about it? He’s a queer, I’m not about to fucking lie. And I’m not gonna talk about him, either. But, if it’ll stop you from asking; yes, I do know him. Unfortunately. End of discussion”, Moon retorted before she could get a word in.

James was off limits, but why? King would be lying if she said the reasoning behind that animosity didn’t gnaw at her mind for the remainder of their session, but she came up empty regardless.

“Jaemin, I will not tolerate such language here. Don’t you know it’s wrong of you to use those words? Have you not been taught so?”

“Calling them what they are is wrong? So I can’t call you a therapist, I assume? Not that I would to begin with; you’re pretty shit”, Eleanor blinked rapidly, caught off guard by his venomous words.

“Those words are slurs. They’ve been used in the past in a demeaning way, to belittle gay people. And although some LGBTQ+ folks have reclaimed them, it doesn’t give just anyone the right to use them. They are still highly offensive”, Nori tried her best to talk some sense into the boy, but all he did was roll his eyes in reply. “Jaemin... were you aware of that?”

“Yes, I was. Why?” His tone was flat, lacking any interest towards the therapist and her intrusive inquiries.

“...are you homophobic?” She hoped he wouldn’t answer this. Hoped that, in this day and age, homophobes were just a myth. But she knew better than that.

“No, because I’m not afraid of any faggot. Do I dislike them? Do I believe their way of life to be wrong and sinful? Absolutely”, hatred was spilling out of him as if ingrained in his mind, almost rehearsed. Each word oozing malice as he hissed them at Eleanor.

Without her own consent, Dr. King’s eyes had blown wide, left completely speechless by the sudden confession. She counted her blessings that, in twenty-eight years of life, this was the first homophobe she’d ever encountered. Loud and proud, at that. But he was so young. So young to have such a closed mind, to be tainted. She didn’t know whether she felt pity or contempt for the boy. Nonetheless, she swallowed back a few unpleasant words hanging on the tip of her tongue and focused on the task at hand.

“Why?” Jaemin’s head snapped up, somehow taken aback by the sudden question.

“What?”

“Why? Why are you a homophobe?”

“I just told you. Are you fucking deaf on top of being a fraud?” Nori bit her lower lip, feeling her pressure rising as she listened to her client’s insolent taunts.

“No, Jaemin, I am not deaf. You said you disliked them. I just wanna know why.”

“’You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.’ Leviticus 18:22. Pretty self-explanatory, don’t you think?”, he sat back in his chair, hints of a smile spreading across his lips.

“I know what the Bible says, yes. I’m asking you, Jaemin Moon, why you hate gay people?” She gripped her notepad tighter than necessary, her tone sharp. This only seemed to amuse Moon further.

“Something the matter, doc?” He shifted to be on the edge of his seat, maintaining solid eye contact with Eleanor. This didn’t phase her; he wasn’t the first client to try and intimidate her, far from it.

“Are you dodging my question, Jaemin?” He scoffed at the mere implication this statement held.

“Dodging? Fuck no. I’m just tired of answering the same question over and over again. How many different ways do I have to say ‘I hate fags’ for you to get it?”

“Oh, I get it. What I don’t get, is how you hold such contempt for a minority without having any actual reasons why... I just find that odd”, she raised an eyebrow, and the way Jaemin’s nostrils flared indicated she’d hit a nerve: finally.

“It’s unnatural, isn’t that enough? Guys have dicks, chicks have pussies. A stick and a hole. You put one in the other and boom! A baby. Gay people can’t reproduce-”

“No, but they can adopt. There are millions of children that get abandoned or put up for adoption. And I can tell that ‘breeding’ isn’t the reason for your aversion. All you’ve given me so far has been textbook homophobe, but you’ve yet to give me a single reason why you personally dislike them. So, what’s the reason?” Eleanor grilled him, couldn’t help but notice the way his hands balled into fists. Got him.

“You can’t tell shit, and whatever the fuck my father’s paying you is way overpriced, clearly”, Jaemin leaned down to retrieve his backpack and slinked off his seat, much to Nori’s surprise. “I’m out of here”, he announced.

“Jaem-” She didn’t have time to finish calling out his name that her patient was out the door, leaving with a quite literal bang that shook the walls of her office. Their short, but fiery encounter left Eleanor breathless. She sat in her chair, trying to calm down, for nearly fifteen whole minutes after his departure.

When she was certain her heart wouldn’t jump out of her chest, Nori stood up and paced across her office to her desk, retrieving a half-consumed sage stick and her lighter. She then proceeded to smudge her office for way longer than necessary, until her heart was content and she couldn’t feel Jaemin’s negative energy contaminating her work space. After that, she didn’t linger for a moment longer and decided to head straight home.

Eleanor only made it to the parking lot before her phone started ringing. It was Peneloppe, the secretary they’d only hired a month or two ago. A doll, truly. Maybe a little scatterbrained.

“Um, hi, Dr. King?” Her voice was delicate, yet reluctant.

“Yes, Peneloppe, how can I help?”

“I- I’m sorry I forgot to ask you before you left, but a certain Mr Moon called? And he wanted to know how his son’s session went? I think he said it was um... shoot, uh...”

“Jaemin?” Nori stuffed a hand in her purse in search of her car keys.

“Yes! Yes, that’s the one!”

“I’ll write a report tomorrow-”

“Actually, uh, he’s on the other line? So if it wouldn’t be a bother”, Peneloppe squeaked, embarrassment seeping through her tone. All Eleanor could manage was a sigh as she unlocked her car. She sat down in her seat after popping the door open.

“Okay, well... tell Mr Moon that his son was very aggressive from the get-go, not very open to therapy. He cursed a lot and walked out of his session. Let him know I’ll have a full report tomorrow ready for him, alright?”

No response.

“...Peneloppe?”

“Y-Yes! Sorry, I was writing it down. But um, yes, I got it. I’ll let Mr Moon know. Have a good night, Dr. King!”

“You can call me Eleanor.”

“Eleanor... right. Good night, Eleanor.”

Wednesday, May 8th 2019, 5:55PM Wexler-Carsons Psychotherapy Practice

Although Mrs. Moon had confirmed Jaemin would be attending his second session, Eleanor had her doubts, what with how it went last time. He was late on top of being rude, and generally closed off to the idea of therapy. His dark aura clung to Eleanor for days after, and so that’s why she was only now revisiting her notes from their first session together. She’d tried to put anything Jaemin Moon-related to the furthest corner of her mind, in a desperate attempt to protect her energy from his intensity. And it had worked, for the most part. Today, she felt good. Light. She wasn’t as optimistic about her client showing up, though, but her door swinging open with a loud smack proved her wrong.

A hooded figure, presumably male, strided into her office, even closed the door behind him. Nori rose to her feet, her usual smile plastered to her lips. She couldn’t make out his features, but recognized the backpack to be Jaemin’s.

“Jaemin! I...” she looked over her shoulder at the clock; 5:55PM. “You’re... early. I wasn’t expecting you to show, much less early”, she admitted with a scoff, figured it would be better to be honest with him. Maybe he would even appreciate her humour.

“Yeah? Well, I did”, he spoke, his tone lifeless and dry. Sure, she didn’t know much about him, only what his file and he himself told her. Which, right now, was homophobic young adult with anger issues. But she recalled him being more animated than this at the very least. He was slouched in the seat across from her, head hanging low and his entire frame engulfed in a ridiculously oversized hoodie.

“Would you, um... would you mind taking the hoodie off? I like establishing eye contact with my patients”, Dr. King tried. She couldn’t help but notice the way he recoiled, as if he was about to bark back at her, but stopped himself before it could slip past him. It was followed by a brief silence. “...Jaemin?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay! God...” he grumbled in response as he shuffled in his seat. His hands slipped further out from under his sleeves where they’d been previously hidden, and that was when Nori spotted his bruised knuckles. He was violent, she knew that much. But that didn’t mean the prospect of one of her patients getting hurt delighted her, either. It didn’t mean she expected it to resurface two sessions in. She’d have to address it, she couldn’t not, but he seemed to have crawled further into his shell, if that was even possible. Nori would have to approach him slowly, take it day by day.

His hands were shaky, hesitant, as they came up to pull off his hood, and Eleanor gasped the moment she caught a glimpse of his face. His hair had grown a little since the last time they saw each other, or maybe he just hadn’t groomed. But that wasn’t what horrified her. He was sporting a black eye and a busted lip. It was obvious whoever tended to his injury knew what they were doing, but it was unsightly, nonetheless. Nori didn’t have time to question what she should do that her legs were already carrying her towards her client.

“Jaemin, wha... what happened to you?” Her eyes widened as they scanned his face and his injuries, taking him in. She kept a reasonable distance, afraid of breaking any boundaries that weren’t meant to be broken. But every fiber of her body urged her to hug him, caress his cheek when she saw the way he cast his gaze down, nibbled his lower lip at her inquiry.

“What do you think?” he huffed with a small shake of his head.

“Jaemin... you know you can talk to me”, the softness of King’s voice made Jaemin look up at her, and for the first time, she saw him. Without any standoffish exterior. She gazed into his eyes and saw fear. A young boy in desperate need of help. “A- Anything that’s said here stays between us, you know that, right?” He only nodded to show he understood, but broke eye contact the moment his eyes became slightly glassier than usual. Eleanor took a step back, millions of thoughts rushing in her mind. “Jaemin?”

“...yes?”

“From now on... I’d like to see you two times a week.”

#nosspara #everyone meet burt #are we surprised? no? good.#tw: slurs #tw: abuse #the way this is SO FUCKING LATE is embarrassing #i'll try to speed it up #are we surprised i'm slow? no? good.#i did NOT readproof this bcos it's FOUR MONTHS LATE #SO SUE ME #corrections might be made waaaaay later #for now i just need this to be out

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rayraywrites · 5 years

Text

Chapter 4

Pairing: Kuramochi Youichi x Sawamura Eijun

(minor: Furuya Satoru x Kominato Haruichi; Miyuki Kazuya x Kawakami Norifumi)

more ships to be added

Characters: Sawamura Eijun, Kuramochi Youichi, Furuya Satoru, Kominato Haruichi, Miyuki Kazuya, Kawakami Norifumi, Takigawa Chris Yuu (more characters to be added)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Total Word Count: 4341

AO3

Summary:

In this universe, you don’t meet your perfect match by happenstance. You’ve grown up with them, maybe not physically, but they’ve always been there. In your mind. Speaking to you.

In this universe, humans are not the most powerful, and there’s pockets of our world that lead to the other. To the fae. And there’s so much more to them, than can ever be understood.

Eijun and Youichi. They stand upon the divide.

“It was as if I had emerged from a dream. The newly familiar trees suddenly gave away to the foliage I remembered from my youth. According to the villagers, I had disappeared for a few years, though they had long since given up on ever finding me. Even to this day, I’m not sure how I got to this other world, and that is the only word for it - a world, much unlike our own. Where strangely powerful beings with magic poured out of them like the way water flows down a river. But even more than the wondrous new experiences – I got to meet the one who completed me, the one who had remained suspiciously silent my whole life. His hair, a blushing pink, and sharp smile have begun to haunt my dreams.”

This diary entry was discovered amongst Isashiki Jun’s belongings following his return back to the human world (as he put it). He had vanished for a few years following a walk through his local forest. I have an instinct that he was able to cross realms because the forest was running along a ley line.

Based on this entry, I, and my esteemed colleagues, have postulated that his soulmate could have in fact been one of the elusive fae – but I cannot confirm this notion as he soon disappeared again. I have long assumed it is back to his matched.

Somewhere within me, I find pity welling up, as a match of that kind is doomed to fail from the beginning, by its very nature. The immortal fae and his very mortal human.

An excerpt from the “Book of Fae and Humans” written by Masuko T. (225 AD)

––––––

With a lively giggle, he clapped his hands together. Smiles were all that showed up on his face, for even when there was something that could make him unhappy, a small hum would appear in his head, or maybe sometimes an actual song could be heard bouncing around his head. It was always the same soothing voice, that wished him a “restful sleep” each night, or a “blessed day” each morning.

Not that he understood any of the words, nor their importance, as to him it was simply babble. But even when so young, he could sense the affection in the voice, and he responded in the only way he could.

Giggling and enjoying life to the fullest.

To his left, he could see his mother sitting on the big blue chair that she was always on when he went outside to play. He saw a dress in her hands, and smiled a wide, toothy grin at the pretty. sparkly material. He used to grab for it, even when she had refused, but the voice in his head would distract him when he threw tantrums.

So instead he laughed and clapped along to the music in his head, giggling at the lilting tones that rose and fell as they sang of a brave Fae warrior fighting her way through a horde of vicious hobgoblins. The song described the warrior’s near failure as a tremendous number of enemies encircled her, with bloody and disgusting weapons pointed down threateningly at her kneeling form. The little boy flinched, and cowered into himself. But then the voice soared, high in register, as it described the sudden surge of power that built up in the fae’s body, the support of her people filling her with the strength she needed to leap up. The voice sweetened slowly, describing the victory so earnestly, it almost brought tears to the listening boy’s eyes.

The boy was unable to understand the smooth flowing voice that sang in an otherworldly tone, and nor was he old enough to understand the meaning of the song. But yet, he felt the emotions welling up inside him, till he could no longer hold them back and instead large fat tears rolled down his cheeks. To his mother’s surprise however, there was no accompanying scream of pain or annoyance as was the usual occurrence, but instead only sniffles and fists struggling to wipe the tears and snot away from his face.

As the song reached its climactic finish, the warrior having defeated the hordes and returning to her people, where she was greeted by his loving and caring matched, who hurriedly began to heal all of the warrior’s wounds. The song ended with a joyous tone, pleasant and calming while also vivacious and lively, which managed to stem the flow of tears pouring down his cheeks. The ordeal left the little boy exhausted, for the changing emotions weren’t something his young body was accustomed to.

Slumping down slightly, he tilted his head back, to look up at the sky. A bright blue expanse greeted him, dotted with big, fluffy, white clouds. With a loud call for his kaa-chan, he began reaching up for the clouds, the tiredness from before quickly leaving him. Unconsciously, he shared images of the blue skies and clouds with his matched, unable to control his thoughts.

But these new images were soothing for the anxious fae, who had also received all the emotions and tiredness caused by the song. The clouds and sky indicated that things were fine, or at least, would be fine.

As the boy got distracted by the things around him once more, he clapped his hands again, trying to start another song, but unsure how he would go about it. Babbling came out of his mouth, his eyes crossing as he struggled to say the word that would get his wish across. Both in his mind and with his mouth, he tried to convey his desires, slowly but surely managing to shape his mouth around the word that he’d heard his mother say before.

唄 “Uta.” Song.

Giggling at the shocked gasp that reverberated in his head, mimicking the one that forced its way out of his kaa-chan’s lips, he called out again for a song.

For the boy’s matched, it was the first time the fae had heard the boy speak. And that the first purposeful word he ever said being for him, made the fae tear up just a bit. So he sang again, this time a soothing song of his own composition. It described the rolling hills of the Spring fields, melding with the Dark forest along their border till a fae could never tell where the Spring Court’s realms began, and the Autumnal Court’s lands ended.

And so the days passed, the little boy’s head filled with songs and stories, the fae spending his time crafting songs and absorbing everything he could from his young match.

––––––

He scrambled to sit down in front of his kaa-chan’s chair, the tone of her voice leaving no option but simple acquiescence. She had a soft smile on her face, and he never wanted to turn it upside down. He had heard from kids in the village that they never listened to their mothers, instead choosing to keep playing and ignore the demands of their kaa-chan. But he had seen their smiles turn upside down, frown his mother had said when he brought up the topic. So he promised himself to never let her frown, and instead did everything he could to make her happy.

So when she called, he came.

Settling himself comfortably at the foot of her chair, he tangled his fingers into the fabric of her dress, already impatient to go play games again. She seemed to sense his restlessness, as she quickly ran her fingers through his short hair, tugging lightly at the strands to bring his head up to face her.

“Youichi, you’re a big boy now, even if Kaa-chan wants you to stay her little boy forever.” He grinned toothily up at her, giggling when she tugged on an errant tuft of hair at his cheeky smile. He had seen his sixth winter just recently, something he brought up quite often, especially amongst the other boys in his village, all of whom were older than him and often teased him about his age.

She continued speaking in the soft, dulcet tones he’d come to realize meant that his kaa-chan was nervous. She didn’t want to discuss this topic, but had no choice. So he tried to control his wandering mind even more, and gave her his full attention. With a careful breath, both to stabilize her voice and for a final moment of stalling, she began telling him about the matched and soulmates. Immediately, he realized who she was talking about.

His Ei-chan!

They spoke in his head, and whenever Youichi was able to talk to Ei, he always felt really calm and happy. He didn’t tell his kaa-chan, but sometimes Ei even helped him with his reading, sounding out the words he was struggling with, and explaining the sentences till he understood them perfectly. His eyes sparkled as he reached out to his Ei-chan, excited to share the news in case his soulmate hadn’t known!

“Ei-chan! Ei-chan! Guess what? Kaa-chan told me that we’re matched! That means we’ll be together forever right?”

At first the only reply he received was a choked gasp, but then he heard the familiar soothing voice spill into his head. However, unlike the normal tinge of excitement that usually decorated Ei’s voice, some confusion and a bit of hesitance coated his words.

“I’m glad you know now Mochi! Forever is a long time kid, but if you’ll have me,” Ei’s voice broke a little, as if he was struggling even to think those thoughts, “I’ll be there for you, forever Mochi.”

Over the rest of his conversation with his kaa-chan, she told him everything she knew about the matched, about the inability to introduce yourself truly to your matched, about how all matched always meet up, even if it’s for a very short period. Youichi kept repeating all the information he understood to his Ei-chan, wanting to tell all the good news to his best friend.

But something made him confused, if everyone always met their matched, what about his kaa-chan’s matched? She rarely spoke about tou-san; only brought him up once a year in the middle of Winter. She would pull out a small frame from the back of the shrine, and move it to a place of honour at the head of her bed. Youichi had sneaked into her room once, to see that it was a painting of a man that looked a lot like him. Was that his tou-san?

Hesitantly, he placed a hand on his mother’s knee, pausing her in her speech, and asked his query with all the tactfulness he had gained in his six-years of living. “Kaa-chan, where is your matched? Where is tou-chan?” Unlike all other times he’d asked about his father, she didn’t seem as surprised by the question, though her face took on an expression of melancholy. She gently stood from her chair and moved to sit down on the porch alongside him. With a soft pull at his arms, he tumbled into her lap and cuddled into her chest.

“Your father, your tou-san, was one of the most loving and caring men I’d ever known Youichi.” Her voice shook slightly, as if trying to suppress the tears that were welling up inside her. “You’re right, he was my matched, and I’d known he was my soulmate from when I was very little.” Youichi saw the soft smile on her lips, a smile that only came out when she was exceptionally proud of Youichi.

He started slightly when he felt her hand raise to his shoulder, but settled again when she simply began running it down his back. “He was only a few years older than me, but he would defend me against all the boys in the village when they would go pick on me. You’re a lot like him Youichi,” she poked his nose lightly with the tip of her finger, pulling a small giggle out of his mouth. “We grew up together, one of the lucky pairs to be born near each other. Guess that should have been a sign?”

He was shocked to see tears building up in the corners of her eyes, and immediately reached up with his right hand to try and wipe them away. In his haste, he nearly smacked her in the face, but his concerned panic was enough to pull a watery chuckle from her, “it’s okay Youichi, Kaa-chan will be fine.” She took a steadying breath before continuing to speak, “anyway, a few years before we had you,, your father began began struggling with walking, and was often very weak. We were all concerned about him, but unfortunat–” she could no longer hold back her tears, so he watched in growing horror as they rolled down her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she managed to finish her sentence, “unfortunately, whatever problem he was facing it spread to his eyes as a ghostly film where he couldn’t see.” She smiled sadly, brushing away the errant tears with her fingers as she whispered the last bit, “he eventually succumbed to the pain just about a year after you were born.”

He felt a pressure building in his chest, something that had never happened before, which made him panic. The pressure continued to grow till it erupted out of him as a loud wail, and tears streaming down his cheeks. His kaa-chan looked so sad, and he wanted to remember his tou-chan. His chest was heaving as he struggled to get all these sudden emotions under control.

His mother chuckled weakly, recognizing the penchant for explosive crying as something her son had definitely inherited from her husband. Shushing her son gently, she slowly began to bracket the truth with a much happier ending. “But he loved you very much Youichi, in fact the first time he held you in his arms, he turned towards me and said that even if he loved me with his very being,” she paused to bend down and place a soft kiss on his brow, “he would fight for you with everything he had.

With that, she let the, now much calmer, boy go off to play with his friends, trusting that he had taken what was important from their conversation. As he glanced back towards his mother one more time, he saw that she had stood up on their porch, her hands clutching onto her sunhat tightly, but her eyes were focussed upwards on the skies. He turned back towards his friends, laughing loudly as they chased each other. He sent off short messages of affection to his matched, descriptions of the flowers and bugs they would find while playing.

For a child’s mind, those heavy emotions and feelings were short-lived, as they were slowly written over with events occurring in front of him. He didn’t remain concerned about his mother for very long.

But while he played, he would never know that she was praying for her husband to watch over their precious son, praying that the boy would never find out the true pain his father had to suffer in the last ten years of life. How there had been days where he hadn’t been able to sit up from the pain, but hadn't been able to simply rest his aching body. Or times when he couldn’t eat because swallowing hurt too much. She hoped Youichi never realized that she had felt all the pain her husband had, as with that level of inner torture, he hadn’t been able to block their connection enough – she had gone through it all.

But what she prayed for the most? Was that her son would never experience that pain.

––––––

Taking a deep breath, he let his shoulders relax slightly, keeping them pulled back. As he took another breath, he could feel the quiver of the feathers on his arrow brushing lightly against his cheek. For a moment it felt as if his entire sight was limited to simply the target sitting a good distance from him. He forced himself to ignore the distractions around him, how the branches of the trees swayed from the power of the wind, how many arrows that had missed his targets only to land harmlessly onto the grass. His vision narrowed swiftly, till all that was left was the red marking at the center of the cloth. He forced his senses to a point of awareness limited only to the weapon in his hand, and the target crying out for him. The hand holding his bow was steady, like a rock in its firmness, while he could feel the itch of the fingers pulling back the arrow, ready to let another loose.

Finally his fingers eased off on their pull, and he could feel as the tips of the feathers brushed their final touch against his cheek before soaring far from him. He felt the bend and sway of the arrow as it glanced against the bow, eventually leading to its direct trajectory. His eyes remained locked on the target, but he knew this one, this one would make it directly into the center. It gracefully made its way to the target, sinking forcefully up till the fledgling feathers were all that peeked out from the target.

He had closed his eyes just before the arrow made its mark, so the thumping noise of arrow piercing its way through the target was all he heard, and it was all the sign he needed.

Success!

Opening his eyes, he smiled brightly, staring at the target with a feeling of contentedness running through him. He had only managed to make his mark every fifth or so shot, so getting this one had felt so good, he almost shouted out in joy. In fact, he saw no reason to not shout!

“Kyahaha!! I did it!” He threw his hands up in excitement. Laughter bubbled up inside him, the relief at finally making such a good mark, but also amazement of the fact left him in an unstable position, where laughter was the only response he could produce. Still riding the high of his success, he excitedly reached out to his matched, knowing that Ei had been instrumental in his ability to make it.

Ei was never one to do any hunting himself, which was something Youichi didn’t fully understand as Ei had said that he lived in a village much like his own. But even so, he always gave Youichi all the support and advice he could. So he was extremely excited to be able to share this moment with his match.

“Hey Ei! Guess what?I” In the meantime, he began gathering up the arrows that had missed their targets, internally wincing at how many had simply soared beside them. He also made sure to pick up the game he had caught in the traps he’d set earlier in the day. For all his inexperience with hunting animals, Ei was inordinately good at figuring out the best way to trap small animals.

“What is it Mochi? Did you finally figure out how to walk without tripping?” He scowled and sputtered at the teasing Ei sent at him, even if his sudden growth spurt had in fact made it difficult for him sometimes. But he just wasn’t used to it! Not something Ei should have been teasing him over!

“Shut up baka! I meant I made my mark! The arrow sunk directly into the middle of the target!” He waited for the joy and elation that he knew Ei would be feeling, and he was absolutely correct when he heard the response.

“Really? That’s fantastic Mochi, I’m very proud of you – you’ve grown so much in such a short time.” He couldn’t help but blush at the praise Ei was heaping onto him, but simply laughed and continued to excitedly babble to Ei, receiving all the pleasing hums and “ahhs” he wanted.

That was something he had always appreciated. The fact that even when Ei didn’t seem to grasp all the nuances, he was always willing to listen. At first he had thought the maturity Ei showed was because he was older than him, but there was a voice inside him that said there was something else here at play. He could have excused the maturity, and the more formal manner of speech, but the almost ethereal singing and the complete lack of awareness of normal everyday things made any excuses futile.

There was only so many times he could explain the concept of a school to Ei before he felt something was off. Regardless of age, he would still know what a school was right? Or why they hunted for food. Or what a birthday was – Youichi had turned thirteen just the previous month, and like always Ei had been completely lost. But Ei was also exceptionally intelligent in certain areas, holding a mastery in artistic ventures as well as explaining strategy to him. Youichi rarely lost schoolyard battles after Ei started coaching his thinking.

One day, he hoped he would get to meet his matched, and be able to get the answers to the questions he’d been asking since he was a little boy. And maybe then, instead of Ei singing him to sleep, as he did each night, Youichi would be able to whisper his good night! and sing for Ei in his warbly voice.

“A really good job Mochi, I know how much you were struggling with your bow and arrow, but you did it. Just keep practicing each day. You got this!” Youichi blushed brightly again, laughing louder than before to mask his giddiness.

Kyahaha!

––––––

He remained light on his feet, running with a speed he had quickly become famous for in his village, but with the grace and agility he had trained into his body. Soundless he remained as he leapt over logs, avoiding brambles and branches with an ease that spoke of limitless comfort in these woods. His eyes barely glanced around his surroundings, instead locked onto the small tail of the deer he was following.

He had patiently waited for this deer to isolate itself from the herd, watching as it searched for better food, for access to clean water. He had seen that it was a strong deer and knew it would be a worthwhile catch for his village. Even though he tended to follow only those that were old or frail, listening to Ei would rub off on anyone, this time he couldn’t avoid the prize that walked willingly into his arms.

However, he still had to chase after the deer, so he followed along, trying to cut off the deer where he could but easily getting left behind by the much faster animal. For a second he debated giving up, returning to his hiding post to seek out one of the weaker deer, but then it paused almost briefly and glanced back at him. As if to mock his inability to keep up. So he glared, and forced himself to pick up the pace, managing to catch up to the deer enough that he was only an arm’s distance away.

As they ran, he began to notice that he was struggling to recognize some of the plants that he passed. And even when he recognized a shrub, there was a life to it that he’d never seen before. The sunlight that had been streaming high in the sky, it being midday and all, slowly disappeared which prompted him to take a peek up at the sky. Rather than a high noon sun, it seemed to be approaching the early morning rising sun.

His confusion inadvertently caused him to slow down till he was barely jogging. The deer had long ran away by that time, though he was already quite distracted from the chase. Running his fingers along a few of the low-hanging branches of a large willow tree, he noted that it felt much softer but more importantly, it almost felt more alive. He had also never seen a willow tree this deep into the woods, only ever near the village where they’d been purposefully planted many years before he’d been born. But even though he was distracted by the odd foliage, his ears remained attuned to his surroundings.

So when he heard a branch snap, he immediately became alert, hands grasping his weapons tighter, and feet spreading slightly so that he could run again, should the need arise. He could see that there was someone standing behind one of the trees to his left. Everything inside him was screaming for him to get away, not trusting anyone who simply stood and watched others, but he found he couldn’t convince his legs to cooperate. He remained rooted to the same spot, wincing as the person slowly stepped out from behind the tree. His eyes widened marginally as he gazed upon the resplendent beauty of the figure approaching him.

He felt his shoulders shudder from the nervous energy coursing through his body. The hand resting on his quiver twitched, ready to notch an arrow and let it fly if necessary. There was something about the ethereal being in front of him that made him want to come closer, but everything he had learnt growing up told him that a decision like that would only lead to doom. He trembled slightly as they stepped closer towards him, away from the tree’s shadow. Immediately his hand clenched his bow tighter, ready to spring into action. In his mind he kept repeating the same wish for the person to leave him; something made him hesitant to yell this desire out loud – he trusted those instincts.

But suddenly, the approaching person froze, and a shocked expression passed across his face, before it turned into hesitance. Then he heard it.

“Mochi?” The figure’s voice was soft and smooth, but what shook him to his core, was the accompanying familiar voice echoing in his head.

Mochi?

#daiya no ace #kurasawa #kuramochi youichi #sawamura eijun #ace of diamond #a faerie tale #ray ray writes #chapter 4

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angstslut74 · 6 years

Text

Unspoken

Alejandro Gillick/Matt Graver reunion as requested by the lovely alejandroxmatt

Word Count: 1.7k

Hope you enjoy! :3

“What the fuck are you thinking?!” Cynthia demanded before they had even exited the helicopter. She reminded, “We discussed this, Matt, and—!”

“I don’t fucking care,” Matt interjected vehemently. Steve watched anxiously with an alarmed Isabela at his side. Matt was never the person you wanted to displease, Steve knew as much, and it was an aspect of the aforementioned operative that Isabela was catching onto as well.

Matt continued with all his rage and disappointment directed at Cynthia, “You and I both know the government loves putting drug dealer kids into WITSEC so they can use them later on.”

“Yes, but—!”

Matt didn’t give her the time to express her worries, or protocol, or laws. He commanded, “She’s just another kid. Make it work.” Cynthia was about to protest, though Matt was prepared. “It’s the fucking least you could do considering the position you put my team in.”

“You don’t get to make those decisions, Matt,” Cynthia felt she had the upper ground and warned, “I outrank you.”

She was implicating the end of his career. Matt might have been scared had he been younger and greener…had he not just had his world crash down before him all because of a single gunshot. He told himself it was because he’d put so much work into Alejandro’s training—but he knew better now that his partner was gone. People truly didn’t know what they had until it was gone—taken from them as viciously as the gunshot to Alejandro’s head.

“It’s your word against my team’s…” Matt trailed off in an ominously calm way. It chilled Cynthia when he got like this—when the light drained from his eyes and she could see just what exactly the job had torn from his soul.

Matt postulated, “Who do you think my men will listen to: the paper-pushing spook, or the person who was living the same Hell they were in for the last sixty hours?”

Cynthia said nothing. In truth, her career was on the line, not Matt’s. If Matt decided to act out, go AWOL, or do anything, it would come back to bite her ass because she was the highest ranking officer. She couldn’t scare or threaten him. How did one even threaten someone who had just lost everything?

Without so much as a glance to anyone, Matt made his way to the men and women working aerial surveillance. They were trying to close up shop, but Matt stayed their efforts. Tailing close behind him was an apprehensive Steve, who was eerily familiar with how stoic Matt got when someone of his team was eliminated.

“Show me the kill site,” Matt requested.

“Matt—” Steve cautioned.

“Show it to me,” Matt fumed to the tech employees, “Now.”

They didn’t need to be told twice, and promptly pulled up the site. Much to everyone’s shock, there was only one body, not two.

Alejandro was gone.

Matt’s heart leapt into his throat. His voice was thick as he asked them to pull up previous footage of the area. He tensed as he watched Alejandro writhe, struggle, and contort to try and free himself from his bonds. The assassin covered himself in his own blood just by trying to grant himself freedom.

Alejandro moved slowly—too slow for Matt’s liking, and he requested they speed up the footage.

Sure enough, Alejandro made it to his feet and began to stagger north towards the Mexico-Texas border.

That’s all Matt needed to see before he was on his way back to the border. They had all tactical vehicles and equipment for the next thirty-six hours. He didn’t bother asking for help, but geared up the same way he would’ve for any other extraction. He doubted Alejandro would make it to help before he bled out. The only thing on Matt’s mind was that Alejandro at least deserved a proper burial considering the Hell he’d lived since the death of his wife and daughter.

Reyes would hear of the ambush soon and send men to clean up. If Alejandro was caught by them, he’d be mutilated and used as yet another example…That was something Matt couldn’t allow.

Steve tried to stop him, tried to reason with him before he departed, but Matt had always been too stubborn for reason. Rather than Matt go alone, Steve tagged along—Matt needed someone to at least try to keep the rage and agony at bay.

As they sped to the border, Matt refused to believe in hope. He refused to believe Alejandro made it, because he could not stand to get his hopes up. He was the pessimist of the group, and his pessimism usually kept them alive. He’d lost faith in reason long ago...Nothing ever went according to plan for them. His innards tightened while the physical manifestations of grief gripped him. Matt tried to distract himself with scenarios for extraction, though all he could think of were all the things he’d wished he would have had the guts to tell Alejandro.

He wanted to yell at him for being reckless; to shout at him for going this alone; to scream at him for risking it all over some drug dealer’s child…But most of all, he wanted to tell Alejandro how desperately he needed him—how they needed one another.

Good luck.

Those were the last words spoken between them, though neither believed in luck. Luck got you killed, and chance made you sloppy. Luck was no more than a fool’s errand. Luck didn’t fucking exist—especially not in their line of work.

Though, while neither believed in luck or even coincidences, luck is precisely what granted Alejandro life instead of death.

It was lucky his head was bound so tightly when he was shot; it was lucky he crashed the SUV close to the border; it was lucky the waters of the river were chilly enough to keep his blood pressure down, because that kept shock from setting in; it was even more lucky that the first responders who found him didn’t care about citizenship when they saw his near fatal wounds; it was extraordinarily lucky that there just so happened to be a trauma surgeon working in the emergency room he was taken to—there had also been blood readily available for donation.

So, while Alejandro and Matt or anyone of their colleagues did not believe in luck, that did not mean luck and fortune were lost on them. The doctors and nurses all told Matt how blessed Alejandro was to have been found when he did. Had first responders got to him any later, he’d be dead…It was a prospect which haunted Matt, though the beeping of the machines in Alejandro’s room broke him from his fears.

The sight before Matt was a bleak one. Alejandro was hooked up to an I.V. as well as blood to replenish that which was lost. He also seemed to be hooked up to every kind of machine available: one for his pulse, one to help him breath, another to pump the I.V., another to pump the blood, and yet another tube used to administer whatever other drugs he needed. The machines were beeping steadily to indicate life, but he looked so entirely gone that is had Matt shaking as he sat next to the bed where Alejandro laid.

Moments passed and the beeping became steadier and more rapid. Matt’s head was rested in his hands making him unaware to the fact Alejandro had awoken. Alejandro tried to speak, but was promptly stopped by the pain radiating from his mouth and face. He couldn’t speak, and the pain kept him from trying. His jaw was wired shut, his cheeks were stitched, and his tongue numb from the drugs.

He wanted to explain himself—to defend his actions, but he was at a loss. Matt said nothing which made the never-ending silence all the more uncomfortable.

Finally, when Matt felt Alejandro’s gaze on him, Alejandro sighed and gesticulated, “Are you angry?”

It made Matt laugh. It was a humorless and empty noise that caused unease in the pit of Alejandro’s stomach. Matt refused to look at him and focused on the ceiling, on the beeping which jumped a few beats faster as the silence got longer.

“No,” Matt shook his head, “I’m not angry.”

He wanted to be angry, but he was far too spent to get hung up on any emotion which wasn’t relief. Though, Alejandro sensed Matt’s unease, and it caused worry to set in his gut. The beeping remained rapid and Matt knew he’d better say something before Alejandro had a heart attack. He informed him solemnly, “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Me too, Alejandro signed.

“I was scared, Alejandro.” Matt took in a shaky breath, “Truly scared.”

Matt’s confession hung in the air—it spoke while Matt couldn’t: Matt wasn’t a fearful person. He took point on missions, he’d killed men and women without much thought, he interrogated and tortured people—so the fact something actually scared him solidified the guilt building within Alejandro.

“Don’t do that to me again—Don’t put me in that place,” Matt’s voice quivered. “You need to stick around.”

I’m right here, Alejandro tried to comfort him.

“I can’t do this alone,” Matt lamented, “I won’t do this alone.”

Alejandro exhaled. He took note of the tears in Matt’s eyes which matched his own. They’d had close calls before, but this one was too close, too raw.

Oh, how far they had come since first meeting. All the sleepless nights fueled by Alejandro’s night terrors; the endless discussions and decompressing regarding work; the training—it all should have prepared them for this—it should have made this easy to let go. Though all their history rooted them to one another in the most steadfast of ways. Matt needed Alejandro just as much as Alejandro needed Matt.

“Say something,” Matt requested, the eerie silence punctuated with the beeps and pumps of the machines unnerved him. Tentatively, he looked up from the floor, wary of what he might be met with.

I’m not going anywhere, Alejandro signed slowly, I’ll always be right here. With you.

#alejandro gillick #matt graver #sicario day of the soldado #sicario

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cajunroe · 7 years

Photo

raydoc + bookstore!au ↳ there wasn’t a lot that ray wanted out of life. he never purposefully sought out any particular thing, just let the world and all of its opportunities come to him. which is why is comes as a shock to him when brad asks if he wants to start a coffee shop with him. ray didn’t know a lot about much, but thanks to his best friend, he knew more about coffee than anything else. it was a rough start, but within a year, they’re thriving and ray feels like he’s on top of the world. then the bookstore next door reopens and ray feels like he’s drowning. they’re far busier than they’ve ever been and it’s been a long time since ray’s been under so much pressure. a few months later, he’s on break after their morning rush and he finally has time to admire the bookstore. it’s relatively small, cozy, and ray can see the piles and piles of books stacked through the smoke billowing from his mouth and into his eyes. he stubs it out and shrugs as he heads inside. ray’s been a talker all his life, his mom always told him he was born talking, so it’s only natural that he end up in an argument with some hipster who insisted that the way he made cold brew was the best way. the argument gets heated and just before ray is about to punch the pompous ass in his face, they’re interrupted by a tall man with soft, but firm voice. with the man’s hand on his chest, saying something to the hipster to get him to go away, ray looks up and is speechless and entranced. and every day after that, he finds a way to make it back into the shop, sometimes he causes another fight, much to the man’s dismay, and sometimes he’ll just read quietly in an aisle, but most times, he prefers to just stare at the man between the piles of books. brad says he’s being really fucking creepy, but ray just tells him he’s doing proper recon. when brad rolls his eyes, ray thinks it might be time to actually talk to the guy. and once he does, for the first time in ray’s life, he finally finds something someone worth seeking out. someone worth fighting for. he’ll be damned if he lets it go.

ray wasn’t nervous, he was...antsy. yeah, that’s the perfect word.

the two cups of coffee in his hands were cooling in the autumn breeze as he stood outside the same shop he’d been going to every day for the past month.

a month.

“fuck,” he exclaims in disbelief over how long he’s waited to do this.

a woman walking with her young daughter scowls at him and he scowls back and laughs when he see the young girl laughing too.

brad pops out of the front of their coffee shop, “ray, you have five goddamn seconds to get in there before i do.”

the same woman scowls at him and brad flicks her off without even looking in her directions.

ray smiled, “bradley, don’t tempt me with a threesome, you know i won’t be able to resist.”

brad threw his hands up in defeat and went back into the shop.

ray took a deep breath and headed into the bookstore.

timothy bryan had the patience of a saint, honestly. but the guy that kept coming in, everyday, and staring and fighting and generally being odd was testing the very limits of his patience.

just as he was about to close for lunch, said man walked through the door looking more jittery and out of place than he ever had before.

tim had had a long morning full of college kids looking for materials for their midterms and he wanted to relax for an hour.

he didn’t have time for this guy today.

“i’m just about to close and seeing as how i’m the only one in here with you, i don’t think you can argue with them about gardening, pickles, or rifles.”

tim tried to put on a kind smile, but he could tell it looked forced.

the man just quietly place a coffee in front of tim and the bookstore owner looked at the cup as if it were a complicated puzzle he was supposed to figure out.

he looked up from the cup and saw the man who’d been annoying him for a month rock back and forth on his feet.

“thank you?”

the man smiled wide and warm and tim’s stomach did an odd little dance at the sight.

“you’re welcome, man. this is a nice place you have.”

tim could tell the man was nervous, more so than usual and he was determined to figure out why that was, even if it took the hour he set aside for lunch.

ray was mentally punching himself in the face.

a nice place you have? what the fuck kind of line if that?

the man responded with a soft, but cautious, smile.

“thank you, i certainly like it. and you seem to as well. you’ve been in here every day for the past month.”

ray’s smug turned smug, “been noticing me, huh?”

the man sputtered through the sip of coffee he’d taken, but tried to quickly recover.

“i tend to notice customers who cause fights in my store.”

ray shrugged, “it’s not my fault mr. geraldine can’t tell the difference between coriander and parsley.”

the owner burst into laughter and ray smiled brightly knowing he was the cause of it.

then he realized he didn’t even know the name of the man who’d been stuck in his head for an entire month.

he put his hand forward gently, “i’m ray.”

tim’s laughter calmed down and he heard the man, ray, introduce himself.

“i’m tim, tim bryan. it’s nice to put a name to the face.”

ray smiled, still holding onto the rough, warm hand of the man in front of him, “with a face this gorgeous, it needs a name.”

ray batted his eyelashes dramatically and was rewarded with another laugh.

neither noticed their hands were still locked.

ray was about to throw caution to the fucking wind when brad burst into the shop.

“ray. rush. now. trombley is about to kill mrs. rutherford.”

brad ran back to the store and ray shifted in place quickly, ready to bolt but wanting to stay.

tim just watched in amusement and confusion.

“look i know we don’t know each other, but like you’ve been stuck in my head and would you wan-”

“RAY!” he heard brad shout through their open door.

“fuck! look if you wanna go out, meet me at the coffee shop next door at six. if not, it’s okay.”

ran was out the door before tim could respond.

and tim spent the rest of his break staring at the door, completely dumbfounded by what just happened.

“trombley, look you gotta remember that you can’t just throw things at customers that piss you off.”

“that lady was asking for it, ray.”

“mrs. rutherford is like 76 tromb, the only thing she’s asking for is a senior citizen discount.”

trombley smiled and ray was happy, knowing their little psycho was finally calmed down.

he looked at the clock and noticed it was nearly five thirty.

brad came into the front and looked at ray.

ray didn’t need to hear brad’s apology, he could see it in his eyes.

“it’s all cool bradley. i asked him and if he shows, he shows. if not, they fuck it, plenty more of ray ray to go around.”

brad smiled and moved to pull the chairs up for the night.

“i think ray ray is a nickname for a festering venereal disease in southern africa.”

ray laughed, “now bradley, that was almost affectionate.”

the three men laughed as they cleaned up the shop, and ray kept looking at the clock every thirty seconds in anticipation.

tim wasn’t sure what to do. he wanted to go out with ray, really wanted to go out with him, something about the way the man talked and held himself drew tim in like a moth to a flame.

he was pacing back and forth, watching his time run out, and was still wondering why he was holding himself back.

it’s just...it’s been a long time since he’d been on a date. ever since he got back from the drc, he just hasn’t had the time. the congo had been as gruelling as any time spent with doctors without borders, but it was worth as it always was.

the bookstore was his way of relaxing. he’d always loved books and he had more than enough money saved from his practice, that he was able to open his own shop. it was small and cozy and perfect. his apartment was just above the shop and he had everything he needed, whether he was here or halfway across the world.

it’s been three months since he got back and six months since his last date.

one would think that if he could face what he does with doctors without border, a date would be a piece of cake.

but that person does not know how awkward tim bryan is on first dates.

ray watched as the clock struck six and bit his nails. he looked to the door and...

nothing.

his shoulders slumped and brad looked at him with the closed-off worried eyes that he gets when he knows ray will be quiet for a few days.

brad always hates when he’s quiet, even more so than when he isn’t.

“ray, le-”

everyone stopped when the bell above the door rang.

tim stopped halfway inside the shop, still as a statue as three men stared at him.

he cleared his throat and let the door close behind him.

he looked to the two blondes who were eyeing him with intense matching glares and then his eyes landed on ray’s which were shining bright with mirth.

“you’re thirty seconds late, tim. i don’t know if we can recover the night.”

tim laughed, “mr. geraldine wanted a book on herbs. he’s trying to steal your blue ribbon.”

ray laughed and hopped over the counter, much to trombley’s dismay because he’d just finished cleaning it.

tim just watched in amazement at how much he was already liking ray.

ray pushed tim out the door as soon as he saw brad stand up.

“don’t forget to lock up fellas.”

as far as first dates go, tim was surprised to find how easy it was to be with ray. their conversation flowed naturally, with no awkward segues or silences. ray was charming, brash, funny, and smart and tim didn’t ever want the date to end.

so, he figured, the other shoe had to drop eventually.

and that shoe came in the form of craig schwetje, an incompetent colleague from doctors without borders.

“tim?”

tim cringed at the familiar voice. of all the places...

“tim! i knew that was you!”

craig, without being offered, pulled up a chair to their table and tim didn’t miss the click in ray’s jaw at the intrusion before looking to tim in question.

if he weren’t so distracted by the walking disaster that was craig, tim would’ve pulled ray into a kiss he’d wanted to give ray since they sat down.

he and ray were staring at one another, and tim could see ray was thinking the exact same thing. and it took everything in tim, to break the contact.

craig had been talking the entire time, “...can’t believe you got out of practice, still. you were the best we had.”

tim nodded, taking a large drink of his whiskey.

“i had my fair share of that, craig. you know that. d-w-b is plenty for me.”

“i heard you open some cafe or some shit like that?”

“it’s a bookstore, but yes.”

“that’s fucking wild.”

craig laughed and turned as if he just noticed ray who gave him a tight smile before flipping him off behind his head.

tim nearly spit out his whiskey and smiled as ray laughed.

“who’s this?”

“this is my da-”

ray interrupted, “darling boyfriend, ray. and you are?”

“i’m craig, i know tim from doctors without borders, i’m sure he’s mentioned me.”

ray shook his head and frowned, “i can’t say that he has, but we’re trying to have a nice dinner, if you wouldn’t mind.”

craig looked uncomfortable and looked between ray and tim.

tim was in shock at ray’s false admission, but couldn’t help wanting it to be true.

he looked to craig and shrugged, “it’s our anniversary, but i’ll see you at the next meeting, right?”

craig nodded and stumbled his way towards the door.

tim sighed and polished off his drink.

ray laughed, “you’re a fucking doctor?”

tim, unable to hide it, smiled, warm and wide. god he wanted to kiss ray.

and for the first time, in a long time, tim opened up and told ray everything. he told him how much he hated private practice and the fact that people without insurance or a way to pay came to him in dire need of help. and how he eventually couldn’t sleep at night knowing that he’d let those people down. so he sold his practice for a considerable amount of money and open the bookstore. then he discovered that he qualified to work with doctors without borders and he felt everything fall into place.

ray just smiles at him the whole time, never looking at him like others had. the look that always asked, “why did you give up all that money and success at your fingertips to sell books and work for free?”

but he never say that in ray. all he saw was admiration and understanding. like ray had seen just how horrible the world could be, but still knew that good parts existed if you wanted to find them.

it was intoxicating and before he knew it, tim was leaning across the table and kissing ray firmly, but with a sensual slowness that he hoped let ray know how much his compassion was appreciated.

from the moment their lips touched, ray was done for. tim’s lips against his was everything. it was sensuous, soft, and seductive.

ray had never experienced anything like it before and he never wanted to experience anything like it again unless it was from tim.

they pulled apart and both men sat back in astonishment.

they’d both felt something more than a kiss. it was a connection they’d just formed and all either wanted to do was reconnect their lips.

ray smiled and clicked his tongue, “i knew i was right.”

tim raised his eyebrows, silently asking ray to explain.

ray laughed, “i told brad you’d be a great kisser.”

tim laughed and signalled the waiter for the check.

ray moved his chair towards tim and kissed him shamelessly and without abandon.

once they were outside the restaurant, tim pulled ray into his arms, “ask me to go back to my place.”

“can we go ba-”

“yes.” tim grabs ray’s hand and doesn’t let go until he’s unlocking the door to his apartment.

@msridcully - thank you!

send me a pairing and an au and i’ll make an aesthetic post + ficlet

#raydoc #ray #doc bryan #generation kill #my stuff #my edits #my writing #msridcully

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