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ilovefandoms102 · 4 years

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Where Loyalties Lie

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Potter!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance is betrayed when the very dark wizard who is out to kill you is your lovers master...

Taglist:

@jeyramarie @drewswannabegirl @teamnick @jiaraendgame @agirlwholovescoffee @outerbongs @jaxxandcomet @velyssaraptor @baby-pogue @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @must-be-a-weasley-92 @kaitieskidmore1 @ma10427 @ifilwtmfc @lasnaro @justcallmesams @judayyyw @lonely-kermit @gviosca @iamaunicorn4704 @jellyfishbeansontoast @fernweh-fangirl @runway-to-my-aid @eb15 @hurricane-abigail @tangledinsparkles @amanda-rotigliano @hxfflxpxffs @bannerbubble @hybridfamily @coldlilheart @fandom-phaser @sunwardsss @http-cherries @bibliophilewednesday @evaporatedrosepetals @thetomatosaucee @tomatosauceagent @redosmo @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @susceptible-but-siriusexual @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @obx-direction-sos @thefandomplace

Part 2

Note: The people have spoken and I am excited to start this! I made a blurb about this topic, but I am going to make this part to provide more of the back story.

There will be multiple parts so if you want tagged message me or comment on this post! I tagged everyone in my overall taglists so if you don’t want to be in this fic just let me know!

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How far would you go to save the person you loved?

When did it become too much?

These were the questions that burned in my brain on a daily basis. My forbidden romance to my brother’s worst enemy looming over as it became harder to hide. I was sure at least Hermione knew, she had caught on to the longing looks between us. She never mentioned it, but she’s a genius so of course she suspected.

Sixth year had started, and with the rise of Voldemort it became the upmost importance to find out everything we could about him. I was supposed to be helping Harry with becoming closer to Professor Slughorn, but I couldn’t stop the nagging feeling about Draco. Something was different with him, and I was going to find out.

Harry had come into the Great Hall, his face covered in blood. Just before that Draco had entered, so I suspected that got into a bit of a scuffle. After Dumbledores speech, I waited in the hall as everyone else began to pile out. Draco was the last to exit, having known I’d be waiting for him. He reached out to caress my cheek, smiling softly.

“You messed up my brother’s face pretty bad, why?” I asked, holding on to his suit jacket.

“Payback for my father.” he murmured.

“I was there too, you gonna punch me?” I mumbled, looking down when I couldn’t meet his gaze.

“I wouldn’t ever lay a hand on you, you know that.” he hissed, moving his hand to take a fist full of my hair.

Draco pulled me tightly against him, leaning to join our lips. We hadn’t been able to see each other for the entire summer, the pent up emotions leaking from both of us. He licked my bottom lip, my tongue came out immediately to play with his. Our kiss became deeper, hands leaving to feel every inch of each other.

Once we pulled away, he stayed close to lean his forehead on mine. I hugged him tightly to me, taking in this precious time we had together. We were both damaged on the inside, so I saw that as as sign that we were meant to be together.

“We should go before the Prefects come looking for us.” Draco mumbled, but not making any moves to let go.

“I’ll see you this weekend though right?” I inquired hopefully.

“As always darling, good night.” he spoke, kissing my lips gently.

He walked towards his common room, turning to glance at me one more time. I blew him a kiss to which he caught and held to his heart. I too made my way back to the common room, being met with the inquisitive look of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Where have you been?” Harry interrogated, folding his arms across his chest.

“I was talking with Luna,” I lied, shrugging my shoulders.

“You’re lying y/n.” he hissed.

“Can we save the interrogation for a later time, I’d like to go to bed.” I snapped.

“You realize we have a job to do, if Dumbledore didn’t entrust us with this it wouldn’t be important!” he scolded.

“You think I don’t know that! Stop acting like you’re the only one affected by all of this Harry! I was there too, I have a scar just as you do!” I bellowed.

“This isn’t helping anything you two! We all just need to go to bed.” Hermione mediated.

I stomped off to my room, throwing my bag under my bed. I did my nightly routine, then huddled into bed. I was still aggravated with my brother, so it made it almost impossible for me to be comfortable. After some time of me shuffling around, I finally made it so I could drift off to sleep.

==================================

After a stressful first week of classes, the weekend was finally here. I was excited to finally spend some time with Draco, now just having to make up an excuse to get away from my brother, Ron, and Hermione. I grabbed the invisibility cloak, stuffing it in my bag. The trio came down in the common room where I was currently sitting by the fire.

“Are you not coming to Hogsmeade?” Harry questioned.

“No, I think I’m going to stay in and study for herbology. I have a big paper that I need to get started on.” I lied easily.

“I’m rubbing off on you aren’t I y/n?” Hermione joked.

“I think so, have fun guys!” I grinned, watching until they disappeared.

I waited for a minute before jumping up from my spot, jerking the cloak out of my bag to throw it on. I walked quickly to mine and Darco’s meeting spot, choosing the Room of Requirement. I imagined a room with a fireplace, and a huge comfy king sized bed.

==================================

I waited hours, starting to get extremely angry. How could he just blow me off like that? I was about to leave when Draco entered the room, worry in his eyes. Something was off about his movements, he was jerky and nervous. He relaxed when his eyes fell on me however, but I was still boiling with rage.

“It’s a little late Dray,” I griped, turning away from him.

“I’m sorry darling, I was...I was caught up with something.” he stammered.

“Caught up with Pansy?” I snapped, folding my arms over my chest.

“Y/n, you know it’s not like that.” he griped, gripping my chin to make me face him.

“You looked pretty cozy in potions the other day.” I challenged.

Draco pulled me in his arms, my arms going around his middle. I pouted up at him, his hands coming to hold my face. He smirked, knowing that I was jealous. I hated that we had to hide our relationship. Until this war was over, we had to cherish each moment we had with each other.

“You know you needn’t worry about my feelings for you, you mean the world to me.” he spoke, leaning down to connect our lips.

I held on to his sides as I kissed him, our tongues immediately coming out to explore the other’s mouth. His hands traveled over my body, I felt a scorching heat despite still having clothes on. I took a step, moving him back towards the bed. He hummed deep in his chest, not pulling away from our kiss. Both of us shoved our shoes off, Draco sitting on the bed as I stood between his legs.

I pulled back from him, my eyes wildly staring into his. I pulled his shirt off, feeling his bare shoulders down to where I could reach. I stopped at his pants, and he stood from the bed. He shucked his pants off, my eyes being met with his very hard manhood. Draco grabbed under my jaw, yanking me so I was flush against him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, a nod coming from me.

His demeanor changed then, pushing my shoulders so I was on my knees. He gripped my hair in a ponytail, shoving me to his dick. He took his member in his hands, tapping it on my lips. I opened my mouth to take him down my throat, moving until I gagged. He threw his head back, his abs flexing when he moved back to look at me. Draco assisted in moving my head by tugging on my hair, his breathing starting to become more labored.

I bobbed my head faster, my hands taking place on his thighs. I flicked my tongue over his head, causing him to let out a choked moan. He tried to push me down further, but I dug my nails into his skin. I gagged when he tried to fuck up into my mouth.

“I know you can take all of me.” he gritted.

I took a deep breath and pushed until my forehead touched his v-line, shaking my head against him. He gasped loudly, his hands coming to hold the back of my head. One of my hands came up to fondle his balls, squeezing them lightly.

He yanked me off of him, pulling me to my feet. He turned around to shove me roughly on the bed, following as I crawled up the bed. Draco ripped my clothes off, leaving me naked before him. He got right to it, throwing my legs over his shoulders. I whimpered when he took my clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue out. He licked all over my heat, coming back to suck on the nub.

His fingers prodded around my entrance, my body twitching in response. I moaned loudly when he slowly entered his fingers, curling them up into me. He moved faster, pounding his fingers into me. My body tried to raise off the bed, but Draco wrapped his arms around my hips to hold me down. I dug my hands into his blonde hair, tugging harshly on the strands. He moaned on me, making my orgasm hit me out of nowhere.

I yelped, writhing on the bed as he continued his movements. Draco hovered over me, lining up with my entrance. He pushed in slowly, both of us tensing up. I stared into his eyes as we became one, both our panting breaths hitting each other’s skin.

“I love you,” Draco confessed, my heart taking flight.

“I love you Dray, always.” I breathed, bringing his lips to mine.

He held still for a minute, letting me get used to the feeling of him being inside of me. He moved his hips a little, sending a wave of explicit pleasure through me. I cursed loudly, my legs coming around him. He smirked, doing to movement again. I hissed through my teeth, digging my nails into his back.

Draco picked up his pace, starting to go a little faster. I dug my head deeper in the pillows, whining loudly at how good I felt. I could already feel my second high nearing, my hips now leaving to meet with his. I choked out a moan when Draco moved one of his hands to rub my clit, staring at where we were connected.

He rubbed me faster, jamming his hips into mine. His other hand squeezing my hip bone hard enough I knew there’d be a bruise, but I didn’t care. He let out little moans, leaning down to leave his mark on my neck. I could feel myself building closer, my muscles starting to tense up. One particular thrust hit that spot inside me that made me lose it, arching my back completely. Draco continued to move until he stilled inside me, his seed splashing in my walls.

Draco collapsed on top of me, rolling over slightly so all his weight wasn’t on me. We held each other for hours, basking in the after glow. I ended up falling asleep to Draco combing his fingers gently through my hair.

================================

It had been weeks since that night which had me on edge. I noticed that Draco had become more distant than ever, skipping meals, class, and he looked so tired.

What was he up to?

Did his parents have him roped into something?

We were in the Great Hall one morning, Harry still reading that stupid potions book he was obsessed with. Hermione caught our attention, calling for us.

“There’s Katie, Katie Bell.” she spoke.

The both of us shot up from our seat, going towards the girl that was hexed.

“Katie,” Harry called.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I know what you both are going to ask...but I don’t know who cursed me. I wish I could remember, but I just can’t. I-” she stopped, staring at someone behind us.

We turned to see Draco, looking like he had just seen a ghost. My heart dropped to my stomach, a thought clicked in my head about that night weeks ago. He was late because of Katie, he cursed her. Harry took off, chasing after Draco who had ran out of the Hall. It took me a moment before I followed, running after my brother who was set to no doubt kill or harm my lover.

“Harry! Stop!” I shouted.

He didn’t listen though, bursting into the men’s room. I heard crying, seeing Draco hunched over the sink. I clutched at my chest, my heart feeling like it was going to burst from my chest.

“It was you. You hexed Katie didn’t you Malfoy?” Harry taunted, my arm shooting out to grab his wrist.

“Harry,” I hissed, but he ended up pushing the both of us down. Draco fired a spell at us that I didn’t see coming.

The three of us fired spells back and forth, I purposefully missed Draco. Harry yelled out a spell I had never heard before, hearing a thud as Draco hit the floor. My instincts kicked in as I ran to him, blood covering his whole upper body.

“Harry, what did you do?! Oh Merlin! Dray, baby can you hear me?” I cried, pulling him into my lap.

I started to cry uncontrollably, unsure of how to reverse the damage. Harry stared at me as realization came to his features, Before he could say anything, Professor Snape came through the entry way. He came to the other side of me, Harry running out of the room.

“Help him Professor, please.” I blubbered, sobs wracking though my body.

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darwin-xf · 3 years

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Bedside Manner . 9

So this is new. But in the middle. To start from the start click here at A03

She was chilly. Cold actually, naked too, her flesh goosed, the air conditioner still chugging away, the bedspread cast aside. Gently, she disentangled from her sleeping partner, lifting his arm slung heavily over her ribs, and slipped out of bed. He resettled, but didn’t stir.

Thirsty.

Before ducking into the bathroom, she copped a gaze at snoozing Mulder in the bed. Her bed. Mid- morning sun filtering in through the windows, him bellied down on the mattress, smooth back and spindly calves protruding from the sheet that covered his glutes, his thighs. His strong stubbled jaw. Breathing deeply.

And yeah. Mulder’s recent confession aside, she wasn’t sure she should hold out any hope of ever being the pretty one in this relationship. Mulder.

Thirsty. She filled a glass with cold water from the tap and tipped it toward her lips, intent on draining it down. She caught herself, though, and spilled it down the sink. Between the hurricane and the resultant power situation, no telling what type of beasties might’ve worked their way into the water table, sea monsters aside.

Instead she grabbed a fresh washcloth off the shelf, stopped the sink and cranked the spigots full blast, holding her face over the water, breathing steam. She dipped her cupped hands and scrubbed her neck and her cheeks, her chin and nose, eyes and her forehead. She rose, and was surprised by her reflection in the glass. She smiled ruefully, though not without mirth, shaking her head.

After Mulder had turned up in her room on an otherwise ordinary night and dazzled her with his... rather extraordinary skill set? They could have walked things back. That would have been the time. Shattered as she was, there had been some privacy in the dark. A sense of remove. The fiction that he was just helping her with her cramps. Returning a favor, as it were.

After she came, she rolled away from him and hugged her knees. Remembered how to breathe. And whatever doubts and fears she’d batted away while in the clutches of her outsized need for him and the resultant hormonal surge returned all at once. Then she was rocking, swaying side to side, praying she’d come back to herself. Anxious to recover a sliver of dignity. She wished he would take the hint and go away.

She could feel him behind her, waffling...waiting... shifting on the bed. Go away, she thought. But she did not say.

A few heartbeats later, he fitted his bare chest to her back, stilling her body. When his arm came around and gathered her closer, her mind also came to rest. Then he nuzzled his face in her hair— Mulder—and she, spent and depleted, surrendered to sleep.

Still, she’s pretty sure that from there, they could have tucked that moment into some forgotten pocket and moved on. Plausibly.

Recovered their practiced dynamic, established and perfected over the course of dozens then hundreds then thousands of days and nights, filled with slideshows and jokes and car rides and quarrels and flights, interrogations and meals and phone calls and chases and meetings and fights. It was what they did. It was who they were. It was what she knew.

It was a fine thing they built over time, a beautiful jalopy of a partnership. Every week they kicked the tires, hopped in and away they went.

But it could be fragile. It was threatened, she knew on some elemental level, by whatever Mulder was working out with Diana Fowley. She planned to stay as long as she could.

But this. This. This could be even more destabilizing. Which is why she knew he’d never touch her. Even after she’d absorbed the fact that he absolutely wanted to.

Instead he’d lean into his porn and his pickup basketball, his burritos and geek talk with the Gunmen, his phone sex and his books and his movies and always, his true love, his files. Clearly he found time to pump some iron too, as much as he’d filled out in recent years. He sharpened and hardened his torso, bringing to the fore obscure muscles and tendons and veins she’d long forgotten the names of. She’d look him over coolly in the car or office, then look them up later in Gray’s Anatomy, then get herself off with the tome open next to her on her bed just like she did when she was fourteen. As if he needed another way to vex her.

To get him back she whetted and sculpted her own physique, got a better stylist who vamped and fussed over her hair until it curled just so, till she imagined that it whispered to him through the dark. After her cancer, after Jerse, with that chip in her neck and a new fierce determination, she learned to carry her losses, afraid but brave, with one true mission, and she became a new thing. So she took to wearing lower waisted pants and black bras and tighter shirts, maybe releasing an extra button to show him the hollows above her collarbones, her sternum and her throat. She gave as good as she got.

As iron sharpens iron, as it says in that oldest of books, so one person sharpens another. That was what they did. They were two flinty bodies and mismatched minds grinding and colliding, sparking and sliding, until they were each honed to the finest edge. Which they then turned against any who dared come at them.

It was all for their work. He needed it for his reasons. She needed it for her own. She loved it. Her work was the one thing she was finally getting right.

Which was funny, because by any rubric she herself might have once applied, her career was orbiting in irreversible retrograde. The types benchmarks, promotions, and accolades she might once have sought after and craved were all but lost to her. To dutifully, dumbly climb those rungs was all she had known to do, before. Before she’d met him, before she’d been drawn in to his nebulous, hazy, imbroglio world. But there, in a place she once hadn’t ever dreamed of or dared believe in, she was thriving.

Her family didn’t understand, that she knew. Within the Bureau, she'd been written off. And the funny thing was, she didn’t care. He didn’t care either, and that was the beauty of him, the quality she’d found so perplexing and attractive when they’d met. Even when it pained her, the way he led with his chin.

These days at work she’d catch wind of some drabble of gossip, or be faced with another agent, driven by petty jealousy, ignorance, or worse, who’d dismiss and demean them, and it blew right by her. Not because she’d adopted his mindset, but because she knew now what he knew then: They were scared. And they were wrong.

What she and Mulder did, what he had taught her to do, the most important tool in their remarkable combined skillset, was to not know.

Instead, to listen. To people, to situations, to evidence. Instead, to ask questions, then better questions, then even better questions, and of the right people, no matter how impertinent. With him, she was willing to forget what she knew, and open to what was really happening. And then open some more. And it was terrifying. But she did it anyway.

Every day she watched cops and scientists and doctors close themselves off. Cleave to their comfortable stories that allowed them to keep it all together. But Mulder had helped her understand something she would have once claimed to know: science is not about certainty. In fact, it’s the lack of certainty that grounds it, and the most valuable journey a scientist could undertake is to find a way of unlearning how to think about something.

Their stalemate gifted her weekends to herself, and she, monkish, holed up with her books and papers from all corners of science and strived to make senses of some of what she’d seen, to at least find the gaps between the known and what she knew, to knit the worlds together. It engrossed her completely. She’d found compatriots in the realm of theoretical physics, guys she’d dismissed out of hand when she’d been piloting toward med school, and was in regular communication with several think tanks. These people devoured her and Mulder’s work, and were startingly close to beginning to explain some of what she’d seen. In fact, if Mulder was as determined to undo them as she feared, that would be her next move. Though the prospect grieved her.

She loved him. Of course she did, and had for some time, just for his eyes, God. And his loneliness. And his compassion. And his courage. And his mind alone was like candy to her. And in a lot of important ways he loved her back, and properly. So she accepted this stasis, leaned into it. Learned to love it. He was her ticket to this ride, with his bottomless mind and nose for the unfathomable, and it thrilled her on every possible level.

But he didn’t touch her. And she didn’t touch him. That was how this worked.

When, in the dead of night, after he’d broken this very important rule, the power had returned, she’d pulled on some clothes and stole into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, brushed her teeth with jittery hands. She found her own eyes in the mirror, breathed into her belly and steadied.

“It’s fine,” she said to firmly to herself. She repeated it like a mantra as she prepared to emerge and dismiss him, send him back to his room. It’sfine it’sfine it’sfine it’sfine it’sfine it’sfine it’sfine.

When she felt good and girded, she slid into bed and settled herself. Smoothed the covers around her body and pivoted on her pillow to face him.

And then?

She doesn’t remember changing her mind. Just the feeling of her anxiety washing away. What was it she had been so worried about? It was Mulder one pillow over, feigning sleep. Just Mulder. Her dorky—albeit dashing—partner who used anagrams for pseudonyms, got seasick on ferries, and once asked her to autopsy an elephant. His ties were hopeless and half the time his socks didn’t match. Mulder.

She must admit, she’s not exactly crystal clear on how, a half hour later, she’d wound up stretched out on the bed next to him, shirtless. While he lay back on two pillows, his fingers laced behind his neck, eyes slivered to slits and raking over her body, his stiff cock in her hand, a revelation.

She loved how quiet he was in bed, his slow hands and his eyes on her, stalking her, strafing her, taking her in. She assumed he’d be as loquacious and frenetic in the sack as out of it. Not so. Mulder, surprising her again. If she had any inkling it would shut him up, she would have made a grab for his package years before.

As she worked his cock slowly with a twist of her wrist, she looked up his long brown body, his stomach undulating, his jaw clenched. And when her fist slipped over his head, he’d gasp. He reached down toward her. She thought he was going for her tits, as one would. Instead, being Mulder, he snagged her foot. Held it snug between his palms and brought it to his lips, kissed her instep, her arch. Nipped at the tips of her toes, hard enough to get her attention.

When she looked up, he captured her eyes with hers, locked her in like a tractor beam. A playful smile on his lips. She met his gaze and, held it, held it, held it... until it was too much. She blinked first, looked away.

He smiled bigger, hitched his hips and let his eyes drift shut. Closed his lips around her big toe and sucked. And some floor she’d not even realized she’d been standing on her whole life dropped out from under her.

Whoo-boy.

She was parched. She dried her face with a towel and crept back into the room. She opened the half fridge hoping for water, willing to pay the minibar markup, only to find it stocked with wine beer and soda. Chocolates and sports drinks. Blech.

Needing the real deal, the h2o, she pulled on a clean tee and some joggers, then paused. She didn’t want to rouse him, rooting around for her usual armor.

Because as the light rose in the room she could see he was well and truly out, not fake sleeping like before. Powered down, his breathing full and even, brainwaves oscillating slower and slower, La plus que lente, destination delta, lost to the world. Mulder. She was glad he was resting so deeply. He wasn’t easy to subdue. And they had, after all, kept each other up until the sky, so inky black, had turned perfectly blue.

Whoops.

As a kid she liked to imagine she’d captured a wild animal, a meerkat or panther or linx. In her pretend world she’d charm it and tame it and train it and feed it until it wanted to stay, then hide it in her room all day while she went to school. So when she got home they could play.

This was like that.

The motel was nearly deserted, and her plan was to score some cold clean water, slip back into the room, and catch a bit more sleep herself. Checking her wallet, the smallest bill she had was a ten. She folded it into her pocket, slid her keycard in beside it, and slipped out the door, making sure it shut softly behind her.

Outside, fresh air washed over her, sun bathed her face. Mulder had been spot on, the dank thick air had cleared out overnight. And the sky that had been clogged with low gray clouds for days was high and bright blue. She cased the parking lot out of habit; felt for her Glock at her back.

But she wouldn’t need it. Their rented taurus was now the lonely occupant of the sad parking lot, the lines cracked and faded, the asphalt once black baked and bleached to blue.

Everyone else had checked out and bugged out, she supposed, even the two who’d been up to no good in the next room the night before. All the better. She took a big gulp of air and steadied herself, set a course for the office to get some change.

The door was open, the little bell twinkling as she entered. But no one was manning the ship. She pressed the buzzer, stuffed her hands in her pockets, wandered over to the rack of pamphlets advertising local tourist traps. Mulder must have read every one when he came over here to scare her up some Advil, her hero for real, voracious as he is. God, Mulder. Maybe she would do something touristy with him. She eyed their options.

Wine tasting was the most adult activity. But all wrong for them. Mulder wasn’t a wine kinda guy, and she wasn’t all that curious about the fruits of the vineyards of central Florida.

She remembered Daniel raising up a glass of Burgandy or Shiraz and sniffing deeply, then offering it to her to do the same. He’d be holding forth over dinner on the finer points of wine. Or the history of photography. Or, most boringly of all, Jazz. She remembers feeling like she should learn to like these things, too. Making herself listen attentively, ask questions. And it shamed her, how she just wanted to catch a buzz and get him alone.

Mulder had never made her feel like that, not once, like she needed to try to be someone she wasn’t. They were peers, friends and foes, two kids struggling and scrapping in a sandbox, then coming together to build something intricate and fine.

Of all the touristy stuff, she found herself drawn to the go carts. Mulder’s gangly legs tucked into a little car, knees akimbo, his gaudy tie flying over his shoulder as he rounded a curve. Could be fun.

Then again, they should probably just head to the airport, let things normalize a little. Settle down. They’d passed up a half dozen chances to pump the brakes the night before, but it needed to be done. They had both agreed at some sober moment during the most interminable unlikely lovely complicated evening she’d ever spent with her partner, that they would need to reassess in the morning.

A man came into the office from the back door.

“Hello there. You must be room nine.”

“Yes,” she said. “Hello.”

“Sorry for the wait. My son’s home sick from school today. And my wife’s over in Sugarmill checking on her mom, after the storm. He’s only six so he needs some TLC. Double duty.”

“You didn’t leave him alone?”

“Oh no. My dad’s with him. They both love themselves some Spongebob.”

Scully smiled.

“How are you feeling, by the way, Miss? Your partner was concerned. Had me scare up some Advil.”

“Oh, that was you. Thank you for that. I’m fine, though.” “And your partner? He asked my wife about a doctor?” “He’s okay too. We’re both well. Thank you.” “Checking out?”

“No, actually,” Scully hadn’t even thought about calling the airport yet. They both needed badly to rest. “We’ll need the rooms one more night.”

“Very good. We’ll put you down for another night,” he said, taking a pencil to the tidy registry book in front of him. “Not like we’re busy. Storm scared away all the tourists. For a minute, at least. You two must be looking for those idiots who robbed the bank.”

Scully nodded.

“We appreciate what you do. If it wasn’t on the government, I’d comp your rooms. I don’t advertise it, but Elmer’s my cousin.”

“Really?” Scully said, shifting gears slightly. “Elmer Santiago Smith?” “Yep. Blacksheep to his bones. We’re good people, for the most part.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Scully said. She noticed the man for the first time really. Big guy with a tidy beard. Solid.

“I even gave him a job last year when he got out of prison. A-gain. Fixing things, sweeping up. That didn’t last long. He could work, Elmer, he’s always been great with cars. But work’s just never been his thing. He’s a lazy no account freeloader. But he’s harmless for the most part.”

This was true. He’d only been nabbed for bumbled burglaries, petty theft. Drug possession. “I don’t know the other guy.”

“Robert Bacon Blight,” Scully said. “He’s from Orlando. They met in prison. He’s much less harmless.” His rap sheet was more colorful: domestic violence, armed robbery, possession with intent, sexual assault.

“That’s Elmer,” he said, shaking his head. “Always falling in with the wrong crowd.” “Has anyone talked to you?” Scully said, perking up some more. “Mister?...”

“Smith. Bertram Smith. Bertie.”

“Do you have any idea where Elmer might be, Mr. Smith?”

“If I did I’da called y’all already. I doubt I’d be much help. Haven’t seen him since he quit.”

“All the same,” Scully said. “I’m going to get someone over here to interview you and your wife, in case anything comes to mind.”

“We’d be happy to help. Why not you though?”

“Oh, we’re off duty, Agent Mulder and I. We were down here on another case. Just helped out yesterday with the pursuit. We’re in a holding pattern until we can catch a flight back to DC.”

She felt a little self-conscious, now snapped back into professional mode but wearing a flimsy tank top, braless no less, and some joggers.

“Hey,” he said, peering closely at her. “You delivered that baby. I saw your picture on the news last night. They interviewed the mom. She seemed like a whack job, talking about a sea monster, of all things. Still,“ he said, shaking his head, “it was a sweet story.”

Scully nodded grimly. Oh no. The FBI was getting better at public relations. They wanted to take the focus off flubbing the bank robbery thing by pushing some human interest.

Now she had even more reasons to want to get out of Florida.

“They sure do keep y’all busy. Makes me feel a little better about that big Federal tax bite.”

“As I mentioned, we’re off duty. If you see Elmer and this other guy, Robert Bacon Blight, don’t confront them. Just call 911 and let us handle it.”

“Yes Ma’am. But I don’t expect to see him. On the news they said they were looking in Georgia. Makes sense. He’s got people there too. Anything else I can help you with?”

She flashed to Mulder asking her the same question the night before. Then shook it out of her head. “There is, actually,” Scully said. “I need change. For the vending machine.”

“Sure thing.”

He dished out ten ones and handed her back her ten spot.

She quirked her eyebrow at him.

“Drinks and snacks on the house for FBI agents who deliver babies and have to bother themselves looking for my dumbass cousin Elmer, besides,” he said, winking at her.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith. Bertie. I hope your son feels better.”

She was back out the door, and around the side of the motel, thinking only of water. She fed the limp dollars into the slot and bought three bottles, downed one of them on the spot. As she turned to head back to her room, a bottle in each hand, something caught her eye. A flash of chrome in the bright sun. It had come from a nearby abandoned barn.

She walked toward it, crossing the country road that ran behind the property and shielding her eyes, peering into the shaded structure.

She stepped inside. And there, behind a pile of stacked haybales, amidst the stifling air and dust, slatted with sunlight slashing through the crumbling roof, was a car.

An El Camino, to be exact. Red with a black racing stripe. The very same car that had spit gravel in her face the day before.

Bertie’s dumbass cousin Elmer had come home to roost.

They were here.

#msr #x files #today in fic #the x files #xf rewatch #x files fanfiction #msr fanfic #xfiles fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #agua mala #season 6 #Scully #Mulder

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everybodyscupoftea · 3 years

Text

keeping a secret

pike jj x reader (ft. cody and tyler)

family secret santa in which the boys can’t keep a secret

this made my heart soft btw so y’all are going to melt

(warnings: cursing, light editing)

Secret Santa never worked the way it was supposed to. The four of you drew names the weekend after Thanksgiving, and when you got together to exchange gifts, you had pretty much figured out who had who.

“There’s a forfeit this year,” you interrupted their excited chatter, clutching Cody’s name in your hand, “if I find out who everyone has before we open gifts because of y’all’s dumbasses, you all have to buy me a gift.”

Tyler scoffed, “How is it our fault, maybe you’re just nosy.”

You raised your eyebrows, “So last year you didn’t borrow my chapstick and accidentally slide your slip of paper back into my pocket with the chapstick? And then JJ didn’t literally try and buy my gift while I was in the same room?”

Cody snorted, “She may have a point.”

“Yeah, I have a point. Y’all are sucking the fun out of it, so please, keep it a secret for fuck’s sake.”

“Mhmm, sure. Um, J, what were you wanting for Christmas this year?” Cody asked, grinning at you.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threatened, flipping him off, before pulling your phone out, “everyone send what they want in the group chat.”

You watched Cody’s message roll in and had to hold back a scoff at a date please.

“Cody, you’re being difficult,” Tyler complained.

“Fine,” he huffed and sent something else.

Idk kitchen shit i guess

Now that you could work with.

“You know,” JJ mused from where he was lying on your bed, “I think that you have me.”

“Pardon?” you asked.

“What’d you get me for Christmas, I know you have me for Secret Santa.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “I’m not going to ask how you came to that conclusion, but I want to make it absolutely clear that if you try and ruin Secret Santa again, I will kill you.”

“You won’t,” he answered, confidently, “but I know because Tyler obviously has Cody after the text thing. And I have-” you lunged across the bed to clap your hand over his mouth.

“Maybank, I thought I was clear.”

He smirked and licked your palm until you jerked your hand back, JJ answered, innocent tone of voice, “I was just going to say that I have someone other than myself.”

“Sure you were.”

As you moved to stand, he frowned, grabbing your wrist, “I promise I’ll drop it. Can we study?”

“That’s what you’re here for.”

Wanna go to the mall this afternoon

Came onto your phone in the middle of your class, and you sighed, reminding yourself to respond to Tyler once the lesson was finished. Your professor let the class out early, and you responded, walking toward your apartment.

Yeah sure. What time?

Now. I’ll pick you up at your apartment

Okay I’m not quite there yet

I know. I’m sitting outside

You snorted, not even remotely surprised. He was parked right outside your building, looking down at his phone, and you ducked, sneaking around the front of his truck before popping up and tapping on the driver’s window.

He jumped high enough that his head slammed into the roof and screamed so loud and high pitched that even you flinched. Tyler grabbed his chest and glared at you, flipping you off.

Laughing, you ran around the truck and climbed into the passenger seat and asked, “What’s up, creep?”

“Nothing much, asshole.”

“To the mall?” you said, buckling up.

“Yeah, gotta get my Secret Santa gift.” You gave him a look, and he glanced over at you at a red light, “What?”

“Ty, baby, please tell me you’re not bringing me to spoil Secret Santa.”

“I’m,” he paused, “not?”

“Uh huh. Well, I hope you’re buying one for me too, that’s the deal.”

“How do you know I’m not getting one for you in the first place.”

“Tyler,” you warned, “I swear to god.”

“Darling,” he answered, “I’m not religious.”

You groaned, “I’m going to kill you before your driving does.”

“I need help,” Cody told you, sitting down with a dramatic frown.

“With what?” you tossed your notebook aside to give him your full attention.

He smiled sheepishly, “Can you wrap my gift for me?”

“What?”

“I know you’re joking. Did the three of you plan this? You’ve all done this.”

“Done what?”

“Tried to ruin it for me.”

“Nope, it’s honestly coincidental and absolutely hilarious.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not helping you.”

“Fine,” he pouted, “I guess that my person will be very disappointed, don’t want to upset-” and before he could answer, you kicked out and hit his thigh hard.

“Cody, you’re going to make me do something drastic.”

He smirked, “Oh yeah, like what?”

“I’m going to spoil it for you. I know how much you love Christmas.”

Cody looked conflicted, “Damn, you’ve kinda got me there.”

“Wrap your own damn gifts.”

You showed up to the frat house in your pajamas, ready to exchange gifts. Cody was in the kitchen, finishing up some snacks for the group, and you leaned against the counter, “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“Excited for today?”

He beamed, “Of course.”

Tyler stumbled into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and you gaped at him, “Bro, it’s 2 p.m.”

He yawned, scratching his stomach, “I’m catching up on sleep.”

“From what?”

“Life, bro. It’s exhausting being alive.”

Which, fucking true. You held your fist out for him to bump, “Feel that.”

“Nap later,” he suggested and you nodded.

JJ came down the stairs next and tilted your chin up to kiss you hello, tapping his fingers on your jaw a few times before pulling back.

Tyler made a gagging noise and reached for a mug of coffee Cody poured. JJ rolled his eyes, “Don’t be bitter.”

“Can we just open gifts?” Tyler whined.

You laughed and nodded, “Yes, let’s take a seat, shall we?”

Cody looked at you warily, “Why the tone?”

“Tone?” you asked, faking innocence.

JJ side eyed you, “You know?”

“I know.”

Tyler groaned, “Literally how? Who blabbed?”

“Cody did. He drunk texted me asking what JJ wanted.”

He smiled sheepishly, “I have zero recollection.”

“Okay but how did you figure out the rest?” Tyler interrupted.

“You have me, we didn’t buy anything at the mall that time we went, but you followed me around all afternoon, trying to figure out what I was interested in.” Tyler narrowed his eyes, “That obvious, huh?”

“It was. Which means JJ has you because I have Cody.”

Pushing himself back, JJ laughed, “Got it in one.”

You crossed your arms, “So I will be accepting gifts from JJ and Cody in the near future, thanks.”

Cody sighed, “We figured you’d find out, so we actually already ordered them, just not in yet.”

“Oh my god,” Tyler muttered, “y’all are awful.”

“Hey,” Cody pointed at him accusatory, “just because you weren’t at fault doesn’t mean you get to take a moral high ground, you’re the one who ruined it last year.”

“Yeah,” JJ added on, “I’m the only one who gets to take it.”

“You ruined it the first year,” you reminded him, “well, Brooke did I guess. She texted me asking why the fuck you were spending more money on my gift than hers.”

Tyler choked on his coffee, “What?!”

JJ’s jaw dropped, and you suddenly realized you’d never told any of them about it. They all stared at you, waiting for a response, “Yeah, she was mad I guess.”

“Jesus Christ,” JJ muttered.

Cody laughed, “God she was the fucking worst. That’s why your gift was cheap sweetheart.”

After a few more seconds of laughter, JJ finally interrupted, “Okay, we should actually exchange gifts.”

“Right, so, I had Cody,” you started, passing over your gift.

He tore into it and pulled out the apron that said plant mom in a script font with plants scattered randomly all over the front. He snorted, “This is fucking fantastic.

“Thank you,” you beamed, “but there’s actually more, so don’t get stuck on the apron.”

Cody pulled out a set of hockey tickets, two for the upcoming Hurricanes Leafs matchup and gasped, “Dude, oh my god, I’m going to kiss you right now.”

Laughing, you puckered your lips, “Any time, baby.”

JJ chuckled, “Mr. Steal My Girl, huh?”

“Maybank, she’d leave you in a fucking heartbeat for a Leafs player, we both know that. I’m not quite as great, but I’m close,” Cody fired back, softening it by sliding his gift for JJ across the table.

Picking it up, JJ shook it a few times before digging through the bag. He made a weird face and pulled out a pair of boxers. His jaw dropped and Cody was very clearly holding in laughter.

“What is it?” Tyler asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Wordlessly, he held them up and flipped them around so everyone could see daddy issues written across the ass in pink writing.

You and Tyler busted out laughing as Cody sat, arms crossed looking smug. JJ was clearly unsure how to feel, close to laughing, until Cody took pity, “Don’t worry, bro, there’s more in the bag.”

Sure enough, JJ pulled out a new wallet, one he’d been eyeing for months but hadn’t pulled the trigger on because it was a bit out of budget. Smiling softly at Cody, he told him, “Thanks bro, love you.”

“Love you too, J.”

“No sappy hours early,” Tyler interrupted, “give me my gift.”

“It’s 2 p.m.,” JJ muttered but passed the box over to Tyler anyway.

He tore into it and JJ jolted forward, “Dude, it’s breakable, chill.”

Inside was a nice tea set and a box of fancy teas. Tyler blinked a few times, in awe of the contents, “Woah.”

“I know you like tea more than coffee, and we never have any here, so I figured I’d set you up.”

“I-” Tyler cut himself off, “wow, this is really thoughtful. Thanks buddy.”

“Anytime. I’ll tell you where I ordered them too so if you like one you can order more. I kinda just got a starter pack.”

“Yeah, that would be sick.”

JJ squeezed his shoulder and Tyler cleared his throat, passing a small bag across the table. You picked it up, curious, and pulled the tissue paper out. After looking, you let out a loud laugh, “Great minds, huh?”

“Great minds,” Tyler nodded, folding his hands.

“What is it?” JJ asked, leaning over.

“Leafs tickets. Two of them.”

“Well,” Cody said, “guess we can all go now. Sitting in different places, but we can make a trip of it.”

Tyler lit up, “I didn’t even think about that!”

“Boys night,” Cody cheered.

“Fuck yes,” you agreed, clutching the tickets to your chest.

“Oh,” Tyler leaned forward, “there’s something else, but it’s in my room, be right back.”

He disappeared up the stairs, and JJ stood to grab his wallet to start switching everything over. Cody looked pleased, and Tyler came running back down a few seconds later with a box in his hand.

“This too,” he huffed out, collapsing back into the chair.

“You’re going to break that one day,” you warned him, tearing into the wrapping paper. Inside was the pair of running shoes you’d talked about the day you went to the mall with him and you smiled, “Thanks, bud.”

“Mall trip successful,” he responded, taking the last sip of his coffee before standing again, “who wants tea?”

“Me,” you answered, standing with him while Cody started pulling out plates for the snacks he’d made.

In the loudness of everyone talking over each other, you just had to smile. Sure it was chaotic, but it was your family, and you loved them all dearly.

“Oh,” you remembered, “Cody and JJ I expect my gifts on Christmas Eve, thanks.”

Cody groaned and JJ squeezed his shoulder, “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

for day nine of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: secret santa

#pike!jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #outer banks #outer banks fic #cody and tyler #obxmermaidholiday #frat!jj

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

Reactions (Bit 15b)

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Thank you ever so much for all your support of this fic. It has floundered in places, but I think it is much more solid now and going in a direction I can control. Of course, it has just past the 20,000 word mark, so much for the fabled ‘ficlet’ I set out to write. ::ponders writing twenty fandomversary fics of that length and falls on face::

I’m working the next six days straight as it is my shitty weekend this week. I will keep writing, but results may vary as I get worn down by work. What gets doen, will get done. Work cramps my style.

This is for @soniabigcheese one of the mainstays of this wonderful fandom :D

-o-o-o-

The crowd erupted.

“Virgil, sit down.” It was hissed at him as the roar overtook everything.

Everyone was shouting.

Veronica was calling for order, but no one was listening.

That one woman kept staring at him. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for her tears.

“Do you admit responsibility for the sixty-three deaths in New York?”

“That was an apology!”

“Why did you let it happen?”

It was an avalanche threatening to sweep him away.

Then someone got a hold of a megaphone. “You people are disgusting!”

It was like an extra knife, twisting in his gut. Virgil looked down at the wooden table in front of him. After images danced in his eyesight.

But the megaphone continued. “How can you treat these men this way? How many of you have had loved ones saved by International Rescue? I have! We owe these men everything, you ungrateful slimes!”

Virgil’s head shot up. What?

On the other side of the crowd, almost opposite the woman who had accused him, were a group of people all dressed in green. Beside them were other groups of colours – yellow, blue, gold and red. Above this rainbow were more placards, but their message was considerably different.

‘Virgil Tracy saved my boy’.

‘I’ve been saved and so have you.’

‘Rescued by International Rescue.’

‘Leave IR alone.’

The one that screamed out in blue ‘Scott Tracy, will you marry me?’ held a different message altogether, but the spirit was there.

The woman holding the microphone was dark-haired and unfamiliar.

The hub bub had died down just a little and Virgil found the ability to breathe again.

The woman’s eyes caught his and the determination and the…trust in them was a physical thing that up and slapped him.

She didn’t let him go.

He was International Rescue.

He saved people.

Again, the crowd reacted to him. Much more must be showing on his face than he was aware, because a tension settled over the people below. Eyes darted between the woman in green and Virgil’s stare. New questions popped up, but they were quieter and finally, Veronica was able to take control of the proceedings.

“Thank you for your consideration.” Her pursed lips added sarcasm and not a little admonishment to her words. “Scott and Virgil Tracy are here to answer a few questions, but before we start, Mr Tracy has a statement.”

She stepped back from the lectern and Scott stood up, his fingers brushing gently over Virgil’s shoulder.

Scott exuded command. His brother was putting every bit of himself into projecting confidence and power.

And he was succeeding.

“Several accusations have been made against International Rescue in recent days.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Regarding Hurricane Lucy…myself and my brothers are grieved at the loss of life caused by the storm, and the damage to the environment incurred by the oil spill.” Another pause, eyes raking the crowd. “Despite repeated attempts to launch, we were restrained by the Global Defence Force from saving those in danger.

“We wanted to, but we were forced to sit and watch when we could have prevented so much.

“And for that reason, we share your grief.”

Blue eyes raked the silent crowd. “Regarding the incident in New York…” A whimper to their left and Virgil’s eyes were once again forced to land on the woman who had lost her son.

The tears were gone and he only found hatred in her eyes.

He drew in a breath.

Cameras flashed yet again.

“Virgil! We trust you!” It was loud. It was sudden. But it whipped his eyes away from accusation to the other side of the crowd once again where that colourful group of people projected support.

His heart twisted.

He felt Scott’s eyes on him, before his brother retook control of the crowd. “Regarding the incident in New York. We are investigating the cause of the accident, but I can assure you that it was not pilot error.”

He held the crowd with his eyes and Virgil found even more admiration for his brother. Scott knew exactly what he was doing and he was doing it well.

His brother took a step back. “Thank you for coming.”

Several reporters twitched at that, arms shooting up with a sudden fear they were about to lose their opportunity to speak with the Tracys.

Intelligent and powerful, Scott looked down on them and held them with his eyes just that moment longer before breaking the spell and returning to his seat beside Virgil.

Virgil stared at him.

Okay, wow.

His brother turned to look at him and blue sparkled as one corner of his lips curled up just a little.

Oh, confident and suave Scooter who was fully aware of his skill. It distracted Virgil from dark thoughts and he suddenly realised that he was as subject to his brother’s spell as the rest of the crowd.

Smart ass.

Veronica took the stand again. “We have time for a few relevant questions.”

Hands that had dropped under that blue-eyed bewitchment shot up again. Veronica turned to Scott, non-verbally handing him the floor.

And Virgil realised that Scott had returned to his seat for only one reason.

To support his younger brother through this.

Virgil let his shoulders drop.

Control of the crowd returned to Scott.

The commander eyed the cluster of journalists, raised a hand and pointed to one on the right. “Ned?”

Virgil blinked. It was indeed Ned Cook. Scott and the reporter had a long term, ongoing antagonism. Cook had chased International Rescue across the globe, attending as many rescues as he could. Having once encountered a frustrated Scott in person, and then been saved by Virgil during a building collapse not long after, he was very pro-IR on every front.

Scott still had words with him time to time. The man always had to push the boundaries and Virgil knew his brother found him irritating.

Virgil just worried the man was going to get himself killed.

But he was a fair reporter and would relay the facts.

Dark hair and eyes bounced between the two Tracys. “So, what you are saying is that International Rescue was not responsible for either incident?”

Scott tilted his head. “Mr Cook, what I am saying is that we are not responsible for being unable to assist during Hurricane Lucy. That blame lies entirely with GDF Command. We have recordings of their direction during the crisis and the extent we tried to help. We were vetoed on all fronts.”

“Why didn’t you fly anyway?”

“And give the GDF an excuse to ground us permanently? Risk all the future lives we could save?” Scott sighed. “We can only help those who want to be helped.”

That set the crowd rumbling. There were shouts of ‘we wanted help’ and ‘please help us’.

Virgil found his eyes drawn again to the left.

The woman was still staring at him with accusation in every line.

He shied away.

“What about the New York disaster?” Cook wasn’t letting them off the hook.

Scott remained calm. “As I said, we are still investigating.”

Virgil was aware of all the eyes on him.

Scott pointed at another reporter.

The man straightened. “Eddie Kerr, sir. I’d like to address Mr Virgil Tracy.”

Scott glanced at him sideways, but Virgil nodded.

All the attention turned to him.

“Virgil, what were your thoughts when that slab of concrete dropped on those sixty-three people?”

Virgil’s throat tightened and he had to clear his throat, but he found his voice. “Sixty-four, my youngest brother was also under that concrete when it fell.”

“But he survived. The other sixty-three did not.”

“I tried, Mr Kerr. God, I tried. It shouldn’t have happened.” A hand landed on his arm and cameras flashed at him again.

God, he was the vulnerability.

“You did your best, Virgil” The megaphone again. “We know you-” She was cut off.

His eyes found the green woman wrestling with a police officer. He appeared to be attempting to take away the megaphone.

Virgil stood up. “No, leave her alone!”

“Virgil!” Scott hissed at him again.

He turned to his brother. “She has the right to speak, Scott. Just as much as anyone else here.” Turning back to the crowd. “Leave her be!”

“You don’t control the police, Mr Tracy.” It was sneered from somewhere down at the front.

Scott rose beside him, tension in every line as a woman in a suit stepped out of the crowd. She had an intensity in her step that spoke of confidence and a right to be where she was.

On the other side of the plaza, the green woman was joined by one dressed in red and a man in blue. More police ran to the scene as the woman struggled. The crowd murmured uneasily.

“Mr Tracy!” The woman in the suit was being held back by IR Security. Gerald, in fact, Scott’s personal attendant. “I’m from the Office of the Commissioner of Justice.” Her tones were sharp and her identification was literally shoved in Gerald’s face. The officer frowned as he focussed on the document. Eyes darted up to Scott and confirmed her identity.

Cameras were flashing again, almost blinding Virgil as his brother nodded. Gerald let the woman through, hovering behind her, hand on his stunner.

She sauntered up to the podium, eyes cold and accusing. She slapped a clear flimsy down in front of Virgil as Scott shifted closer, all towering protectiveness.

The woman ignored him. Attention solely on Virgil, “You’re summoned, Mr Virgil Tracy, to answer for your actions.” Her finger tapped the electronic slip and the flimsy flashed acceptance.

Virgil stared at her, but she ignored him, and turned to Scott. “You don’t control everything, commander. You will answer for your actions.”

She spun on her heel and strode off into the crowd.

Virgil found his mouth open and shut it.

The light and noise of the crowd rose up and consumed him.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

Empires on the Horizon I

Jason is a CEO: Part I

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

i fear it might break me

then break

break

let spirit crack you open

-a letter to the king

There was something almost sinister in the whiskey-induced haze of a Manhattan skyline. The buildings nothing but dark blocks, uneven stairs.

There was something lonely about the haze too.

But Jason Grace couldn't give two shits about the blackening playground of buildings, couldn't give two shits about the incredible view from his twenty-second story window, couldn't give two shits about anything except his whiskey bottle and the burn because today could only be described as hell. Worse than hell maybe.

His son of a bitch ex-boyfriend and his son of a bitch new girlfriend, well ex-girlfriend now, had decided to christen his office. The deal he'd been working on for months didn't get legal approval, which meant everything had to be redrafted. And on top of everything his sister called to tell him she’s setting him up on a date with a quote, unquote ‘lovely girl who seems just right for him.’ He wanted to slam his phone across the room, and he would have if he didn't believe she had the supernatural abilities to know when he was pissy.

The shrill ring of said phone interrupted his anger.

"Talk to me"

"Hello Grace, you sound like shit."

"I'd sound better if you didn't fucking call me, you ass."

A laugh echoed down the phone.

"What do you want Valdez?" A smile played at Jason's lips, despite his day.

"Just wanted to check in and see how you were doing," Leo Valdez sighed, "I heard what happened with bimbo and brainless today."

He winced, "I don't know if I want to burn my office or throw them in an unmarked swamp to swim with the crocs."

"We can do both." His friend replied, conviction lacing his words.

He chuckled darkly shaking his head, "I think I'm just gonna drown myself in the good stuff tonight. I'll face the world tomorrow."

"Okay, I've sent over a tub of your favourite ice-cream. Sorry I can't be there; The lady has been raving about this theatre show for months. I'll be dead if I bail now."

"No worries Firefly, thanks for the ice-cream. Let's meet tomorrow for dinner?"

"Sure bro. I'll book us at the Labyrinth."

"Great and bring your better half!"

A laugh was the only reply before the call ended.

Jason collapsed onto the couch, folding his body into the corner of the seat and taking a large swig from the whiskey. Every time his mind wandered to the horrors of the day he drank. It took a horrifyingly short time to see the bottom of the bottle. The world blurred and tilted, swayed like young trees fighting against the wind. Tears spilled hot and fresh down his cheeks- he didn’t bother to wipe them away. Today he was allowed to cry, today he was allowed to break. It was okay, okay...

“OKAY!” He yelled, trying to untangle his legs from the blanket and wipe the drool on his mouth.

The banging at the door started up again and he cursed a blue streak. With a growl he yanked the door open, “What?”

“Well good morning to you too Mr. Grace,” A cheery-faced Hazel Levesque greeted.

“Hazel,” He sighed “Hi, sorry I- come in,”

“Everything okay Boss?”

“Had a bit of a rough day yesterday, I’m sure I smell like the inside of a whiskey bottle,”

“Uh-I don’t know if I should say anything to that,”

“Good call, I might burst into tears if you do.”

She gave him a wide-eyed look but he waved a dismissive hand, picking up the pillows he had flung in rage and the bottle he had discarded just before he crashed on his couch.

“I’m going to go shower; I’ll update you over some breakfast.”

She gave him a long look before nodding and taking up a set at the kitchen counter. He thought about explaining or offering her something to drink but his soul was exhausted; at the very least he could help himself to a shower before he had to face the world.

The water scorched his back, his forehead pressed to the cool tile. He considered himself lucky for having eaten before he got drunk, otherwise he would have spent the morning with his head in a toilet bowl. His brain pounded against his skull but the alcohol was only half to blame; crying for two hours had its fair contribution.

“Okay you can do this. You’ve gotten through a lot of shit, you can get through this.” He stared himself down in his mirror, fixed the clasp on his watch and shouldered his suit jacket.

With a deep breath he stepped out of his room, his business face firmly in place.

“Shall we grab coffee at Reedpipes, you can update me on my schedule on the way.”

“Sounds good Boss let’s go,”

And within a matter of moments they were stepping into their favourite café. Flowers bloomed in the middle of every table and ivy wrapped around the industrial fixtures above them. A bright hello sounded from the barista’s station.

“Good Morning Grover,” He smiled, at the bearded man already frantically working on their orders.

“How’s it going? I haven’t seen you in a hot minute.” Warm eyes twinkled up at him. It took immense self-control not to burst into tears.

Grover, oblivious to his turmoil prattled on, “Hazel how’s the strawberry pot coming along? Did the compos-“

Jason zoned out, the world becoming a blur of sound and moving colours. His mind hurtled him back to yesterday when he had walked into his office– oh gods it hurt to think about. The evidence of them had been everywhere. Clothes strewn on the floor, his papers and trinkets thrown like a hurricane had swept through. And they had just grinned, like they were waiting, like they planned for it. His stomach flipped, ache and regret flooding him.

“Mr Grace!” A small hand shook his shoulders.

He startled back to the present, “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay” Hazel gave him a weird look, “I’ve got our coffees let’s grab a seat.”

He nodded letting her lead them to a little wooden table in the corner of the shop. Sun was just starting to filter in, and the beams caught on the subtle gold accents rimming each table. Once they had settled in across from each other she handed him his cappuccino and took a long slurp of her iced coffee before setting her intimidating golden eyes on him.

“Spill Boss.”

He sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Yesterday I went back to my office after the meeting with Titan Industries, we need to do a redraft for that by the way,”

She nodded, already tapping on her phone to diarise an appointment with the legal team.

“So I get the office and Piper and Luke–“ He gulped, steeling himself, “They decided to use my office as their playground.”

He didn’t know how to put it delicately and little Hazel shouldn’t have to hear his real thoughts on the matter which mostly sounded like ‘fucking fucks, stupid dumbass wankers’ and various other curse words

“Oh Jason,” She gasped softly, reaching out a hand to squeeze his, “I am so sorry. Why are you even coming in to work today? You should have taken the day to yourself.”

“I still have a business to run Hazel, and besides I can’t let their selfishness stop me.”

“You are allowed to be hurt Jason.”

“I know, I know. But I can be hurt this weekend, right now we need to redraft that stupid contract and I need to make some calls about the new buildings starting this week,”

“Right will add that, don’t forget we need to get your suit for the alumni dinner on Friday,”

“Ugh I forgot about that, okay just pencil that in for some time today and maybe call Drew or Silena to find out if they can have a few ready for me to try on. Also I have dinner with Valdez tonight so no calls after six thirty.”

“You got it Boss, and hey–“ She tugged at his sleeve making sure he looked at her, “If at any point you need to stop, you let me know. And if I see you neglecting yourself like you did last time, I will book a trip to the smallest island in the middle of the damn ocean and throw you on a plane myself,”

He laughed at his fiery assistant, and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Yes ma’am.”

***

Jason’s day wasn’t going great, but it was at least fifty times better than yesterday. All his belongings had been moved to the floor above and his tainted office was being cleaned out. He didn’t know if he wanted to go back there ever again but maybe he could convert it into a room for his employees. At least they won’t be haunted by the events that occurred. His call with Miss Arellano had gone surprisingly well even if the drafting of this stupid Titan Industries project was proving to be a real pain in the ass. He didn’t even know if it was worth it to do this much readjusting.

“Hey boss,” Hazel knocked at his door, “Frank is here to take you to your suit appointment,”

“Damn is it already four?” He frowned at his watch, “Alright give me two minutes to finish this email and then I’ll be ready. You should go home for the day.”

She snorted, “Thanks, but I got some admin to catch up on. You mind if Frank comes back to drop me off at home afterwards though?”

“No problem, you know he would be happy to do it.”

And maybe if Jason hadn’t been so distracted, he would have caught the blush his assistant was trying so hard to stop.

“Right well, let me know if you pick out a suit or if I need to reschedule. Also Mr Valdez called to confirm your reservation at the Labyrinth for seven thirty.”

“Thank you,” He gave her a brief smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes before turning his attention back to his blinking cursor.

***

“Hello ladies,” He entered the open, marbled boutique that was Aphrodite’s Armour.

“Jason!” A sweet voice squealed, coming towards him for a hug.

“Hello Silena, how are you?”

“Much better now that my favourite customer is here,”

“Aww,” Another voice pouted, “I thought I was your favourite customer?”

“Babe you don’t count,” Silena laughed, booping her fiancé on the nose.

“Well if it makes you feel any better Drew, I know she’s lying because she says that to all the customers.”

Silena gasped, smacking his arm, “I DO not.”

“Yes you do hun,” Drew laughed, “You here for your suit Mr Grace?”

“Yea it’s for the alumni dinner at SPQR University this Friday,”

“Oh yes we’ve heard a lot about this dinner. We’ve had all manner of folks come in these last few days.” Silena nodded, already making her way to the back of the store.

“I’m sure. It’s the big charity dinner where they get all the ‘successful’ alumni together and then milk us for all we’re worth.” He shook his head with a smile.

“Ah you rich people can afford it,” Drew scoffed, smirking at him over her shoulder.

“Yes I do agree,” He nodded, “Where’s my favourite of you lot?”

“Oh Charlie isn’t in. It’s Wednesday so he has to go to his sites.”

“He’ll be sad he missed you though, I think he has some project he wants to pitch.”

“Tell him to give me a call, I’m always happy to talk business.”

“Yes, although I’m sure he’ll be much happier to get down to business with you,” Drew cackled.

“And how would his two fiancées feel about that?” He raised a blonde brow.

“Quite excited,” Silena bubbled, a glitter in her eyes.

Jason let out a real laugh for the first time all day, “Sorry darlings but I don’t think I’d be much fun right now.”

Drew gave him a kiss on the cheek “Well, we’ll be here when you do.”

“Much appreciated,” He grinned.

“Okay, I think I have the perfect one!” Silena moved from behind the racks shoving a black bag into his hands, “Go try it on.”

He stumbled into the changing room and pulled out a gorgeous maroon suit. The lining was a deep blue and the detailing on the seams matched it perfectly. He knew immediately this would be a favourite of his and got confirmation when two minutes later he stepped out to gasps and applause.

“Mr Grace,” Drew’s eyes were wide.

“This is the best one yet,” Silena sighed, assessing him.

“Thank you ladies, it really is beautiful.”

“I think the wearer may be more so,” A low voice from behind them said.

Jason’s head shot up only for his gaze to land on the most exquisite person he had ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on. The beautiful stranger stood with their hands tucked in their pocket and an appreciative look on their face.

“Oh Mr Jackson we didn’t think you’d be here so early.” Silena jumped into action, ushering him through the door and out of site.

Jason was standing stock-still unable to get the image of sparkling green eyes and molten brown skin out of his head.

“Who was that?” He breathed.

Drew was pulling at his suit, synching it and marking the fabric with needles.

“Oh that was Mr Jackson, he comes in here fairly often too. It’s a wonder you haven’t met before, I’m sure you run around the same social circles, what with your fancy parties and all that,” She was mumbling around a mouth full of measuring tape.

“I’ve never seen him before in my life. Trust me I would remember a face like that.”

That got the seamstress’ attention, “Oh someone has a crush,”

“How could you not? We did see the same person, right? Tall, wonderful curly black hair, unbelievable sea green eyes, a voice like crashing waves and earth and-“

He was cut off by her laughing.

“What?” He frowned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fall so hard from a five second interaction.”

He blushed, looking away from her all-knowing gaze, “I’m just saying what I saw.”

“Well I’m pretty sure he’s going to the dinner on Friday so maybe you can talk to him there.”

‘He’s what?” He whipped around to look at her, eyes comically wide.

“Yea, he was telling us all about it when he came in earlier this week.”

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,” He muttered, heart racing.

“Oh don’t panic, he’s honestly one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.” She shrugged before pulling at his arm to take the measurement, “Alright, all set to go. You can pick up the suit tomorrow afternoon or we can send it tomorrow evening?’

“Uh yea, send it.” He said distractedly, already pulling on his clothes.

Drew gave him a cheeky smile, “Goodbye Mr Grace,”

“Bye Drew, tell Silena I said bye, and tell Charlie to call me.”

He stepped into the entrance of the shop, but the beautiful man was nowhere to be found. With a final glance around he made his way into the street, ready for dinner with his friends.

“Hello Grace, glad to see you haven’t gone full hermit,”

“Hello Leo,” He snorted, “It was the ice-cream you sent last night. It gave me hope.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” His friend laughed, “How are you though, seriously?”

“I’ve seen better days, but I’ve seen worse too. I’ll get over it.”

“There is no doubt in my mind Jason Grace,” A soft reassurance floated towards them.

He smiled, pushing out of his seat, “Hello Annabeth,” He enveloped her in a hug.

“Hello my darling,” She gave him a gentle smile.

He let her go and she moved around him to give Leo a quick peck. He smiled at her with overflowing adoration and muttered a soft, “Hello love,”

“Tell us what happened?” She sat down next to her boyfriend and reached out to squeeze Jason’s hand.

So he took a deep breath and relayed the story of his nightmare yesterday. By the time he was finished the couple looked like they were ready to storm the castle and beat Luke and Piper with sledgehammers and drawing compasses.

Annabeth’s grey eyes were hard and stormy with anger, “I’m going to kill them,”

“Don’t worry babe I’m there to help.” Leo said vehemently.

Jason couldn’t help but smile at the protectiveness of his friends, “Thank you guys but I’m fine. Really.”

They gave him a dubious look, their expressions so similar it was comical. He gave them another, hopefully, reassuring smile before they launched into a discussion about work.

Both were engineers with too many degrees to count and an abundance of knowledge circling between them. It was almost scary how exquisitely their minds worked. Jason had recruited them time again for his projects– from designing the education center to building the water systems and electricity grids in the downtown area. His work helping small businesses and improving ‘run-down’ neighbourhoods would be a thousand times harder if he didn’t have them to help him in design and implementation. Annabeth, as the civil engineer, often went to sites with him and over saw a fair few of his community projects. Leo was a mechanical engineering professor at the university they all attended but he was always willing to help if need be. Jason was eternally grateful for that because he didn’t trust many others to oversee his works.

When dessert had been cleared away sometime later the three were laughing and ribbing each other like they were back in college and not big-time owners of various companies.

“Okay, okay,” Leo gasped, “No more of your stories man. Annabeth doesn’t need to know all my secrets.”

The lady in question snorted, digging her elbow into his side, “You wish you had secrets. If you can’t recall I was there for ninety percent of your dumbassery in varsity and I’m here for one hundred percent of it now.”

“You don’t know what happened on our guys nights,” Leo narrowed his cassiterite eyes at her.

“Keep telling yourself that honey,” She smirked.

Jason watched on in amusement as Leo’s face morphed into panic.

“Tell me she’s lying Grace?”

Annabeth’s smirk was wicked, “Oh yes Valdez I know about the ‘pants on fire’ situation, and the ‘jumped off a Ferris wheel situation’ and the–“

“Okay stop. How did you ever choose to date me knowing all these things?” He looked at her with some mixture of horror and wonder.

She shrugged, “I figured if you were smart enough to get a PhD and a Masters you were smart enough to know when I’ll kill you for doing something stupid.”

Jason burst out laughing, “She may be taking your space at the top of my favourite’s list Firefly.”

His friend gave him a look of disgust, “That’s just rude, we’ll see who takes your phone away next time you’re drunk on vodka,”

They all dissolved into fits of giggles after that and Jason felt his heart grow a hundred times lighter.

“Are you guys going to the dinner?”

Annabeth nodded, “I heard the university has a proposition for us this year.”

“I’m mostly excited for the mini tacos,” Leo grinned.

“You’re always excited for the tacos,” She rolled her eyes playfully.

“I can’t help it, there’s just something about them, you know?”

Jason couldn’t help but agree. They really were delicious.

“I guess I’ll see you guys there.”

“You can count on it,” Annabeth gave another of her dazzling smiles, reaching forward to rest a hand on his arm.

“And don’t worry bro I know for a fact Luke isn’t going to be there.”

“Yea I know,” He sighed, “I asked Hazel to check this morning.” They stepped into the chilly night.

“Call us if you need anything,” Leo gave him a look before pulling him in for a hug. Annabeth echoed the sentiment and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He watched them walk towards their car, fingers intertwined, Annabeth’s blonde curls resting against Leo’s shoulder. A flutter of ache washed through him at their closeness, their easiness. He had had that once. Until Luke had gotten greedy with his ambition. And he may have had that with Piper if she hadn’t decided to screw his ex.

His life was a mess.

Yet when he crashed into bed that night he felt more hopeful and loved than he had in a long time. He slipped into sleep with a soft smile playing on his lips.

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

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busterkeatonfanfic · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 8

Buster woke the following morning feeling like hell. His nostrils were so stuffy he could barely breathe out of them, his nose was on fire, and his mouth still tasted like blood even though he’d brushed his teeth twice before bed. He stumbled to the bathroom to look at the damage. Two small purple bruises underscored his eyes and the bridge of his nose was swollen to twice its size. His appearance confirmed that canceling filming had been the right decision. He swallowed some aspirin, cleaned his teeth again, and took a shower, letting the steam open his clogged sinuses.

The aspirin barely touched the pain. He toweled off and pulled on a dressing gown, then poured himself a breakfast whiskey to go with the steak and eggs he ordered. Once he’d eaten, he called Nate. To his relief, he was patched over to her line; she hadn’t left for Sunday brunch at Dutch’s yet.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hi, how are you?” he said.

She told him that she was well.

He said, “I broke my nose in the game last night.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. How?”

He explained the eighth-inning fastball to the face. “But we won the game. 9 to 6.”

“Did you?” she said. “That’s too bad about your nose though. I’m sorry, darling.”

She sounded suitably sympathetic, but he craved more. He wanted the soothing, the I’ll-be-right-there, the kissing and canoodling.

“How are the boys?” he said.

“The usual,” she said. “Full of the devil.”

“Good,” he said. “I won’t be filming for a few days because of my nose. You should really consider bringing them up. They’d love the steamboats and I’d like you to see the set. They say the shopping is good in Yolo, too.”

“Oh Buster,” she said, her tone telling him the answer was already a big fat no. “You know I’d love to, but six hours on a train is too much for them, don’t you think? I know you’re disappointed, but we must think of what’s best for them. And wouldn’t they be in your way? I’d have to bring Connie to mind them, and I think four is getting to be a crowd. I don’t suppose your suite would hold another four, would it?”

“Nate, you don’t have to bring the governess. I think you’re perfectly capable of managing them for a few days, don’t you? We can get a second suite or even a third, if that’s what has you concerned.”

“I’m flattered by your faith in me,” she said with a little laugh, “but you’ve never traveled with three- and five-year-old boys! I know I’m letting you down, but it’s only another month, isn’t it? Five weeks tops? That’s really not so bad when you think of it.”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad,” he said, echoing her hollowly.

“I miss you dreadfully,” she assured him, before launching into a story about the picture Dutch was filming and the party she intended to throw with her sisters at the Villa next weekend. He listened with only half an ear. He wasn’t surprised about her answer to his proposal, but he still felt lousy.

Since Bobby had been born and Nate had booted him out of the bed, he’d accepted that his needs would have to be satisfied by other women. He knew that Nate hated him for it, even though he’d stuck to his original promise and been the soul of discretion. In spite of her rejection, he still desired her and wanted to win her back, but the most she would ever permit was necking and light petting. If he so much as thought about taking things further, she’d squirm out of his grasp. He just didn’t understand, even three years since he’d last made love to her, why he couldn’t have both a wife and the rights that other husbands were entitled to. He’d gone over it in his head a thousand times. Was he a bad lover? Was it her upbringing? Peg’s sermonizing? Her religion? Could she be a lesbian? He didn’t know and God forbid he even try to broach the topic. She’d give him such a withering look before she stalked out of the room that he felt like he ought to be thrown in jail on charges of sex depravity for even mentioning the idea.

Divorce was out of the question, naturally. There were relationships to preserve: the one with Joe for starters and those with his famous sisters-in-law. He didn’t trust that Nate wouldn’t try to keep the boys from him, either, if he tried to end it. He could just hear her saying to some attorney, ‘Well, he doesn’t see them much anyway.’ In the meantime, all the saphead could do was to keep trying vainly to find that opening in his wife’s affections. Casting her as his leading lady hadn’t worked. Building her a little love-nest, then a great big love-nest, hadn’t worked. He’d recently decided that maybe a real honeymoon instead of the post-nuptial cross-country train trip that had masqueraded as one might work on her. He figured deep down it wouldn’t change her mind, but still he had his foolish hopes.

When Natalie was done prating, he told her he had to get ready for lunch with Joe and said his goodbyes. There wasn’t any such lunch, but he no longer wanted to talk.

He ended up spending the afternoon at the new zoo, disguised by a fake moustache, a tweed cap, and jumper vest that constricted him in heat on what was already a sweltering day. It worked, though. No one looked twice at him. The zoo was a disappointment. To begin with, it was extraordinarily tiny, but more importantly most of the animals featured—deer, wild turkey, raccoons—could be seen if you just sat in a Muskegon tree long enough. The most exotic offering consisted of some listless-looking monkeys in cages. A pack of adolescent boys thumped on their wire enclosures and screeched at them to perform. “Pick on someone your own size!” he yelled at them, and they scattered. The monkeys blinked back at him, not seeming to care one way or the other.

He did have dinner with Joe that night at the Italian Restaurant in the Julius Hotel. As Buster tucked into his truffle tagliatelle, Joe dropped the bomb.

“We can’t have the flood sequence.”

Buster laughed. “It sounded like you just said ‘We can’t have the flood sequence,’ Joe, but I don’t think I heard you right,” he said, and took a bite of tagliatelle. “Good one, though.”

“I’m not kidding. Think about how it’ll look. You’ve got a river that’s supposed to be the Mississippi—”

“Sacrasippi,” Buster said, lifting his eyebrows.

“Cut it out,” said Joe, frowning. “I’m trying to be serious. You’ve got a river that’s supposed to be the Mississippi and it’s supposed to flood. Well, you know as well as I do that hundreds of people just lost their lives in the Mississippi floods.”

“Since when do you care?” said Buster. If there was one thing he’d always liked about Joe, it was that he let him alone and let him make the pictures his own way. Something about this smelled fishy.

“It’s in poor taste. It’s not going to get laughs, it’s just going to bring bad publicity. I don’t want it to flop. There’s too much money in it.”

Buster set down his fork. Two words had stuck out: publicity and money. “This is Harry, isn’t it?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Joe gave a slight wave of his hand, dismissing the comment. “Now don’t go blaming Harry. I happen to agree with him. It would be a risky thing, and God knows what it would cost to pull it off anyway.”

“Well that god damn bean-counter,” said Buster, anger flaring. “We’ve already got everything set up for a flood! The entire god damn picture is about a flood. That’s the entire point!” Joe looked at him with a firm expression. “I’ve made up my mind. We can’t do a flood.”

“Well, we may as well can the whole picture then,” Buster said. “All my best gags are built around the flood. I can’t just start from scratch.”

“Look,” said Joe, continuing to eat his own meal. “We’re talking about lost lives here. You can see that, can’t you?”

“Horseshit,” said Buster. “Remember Chaplin’s picture Shoulder Arms? The ink wasn’t even dry on the Armistice when he released that. I remember ‘cause it was the first thing I saw after I got back from France. Everyone loved it. No one was thinking about how many soldiers had just gotten their heads and legs blown off in the war, they just knew a funny picture when they saw one.” He clenched his left fist in his lap.

“Why not try another disaster?” Joe said.

“Like what?” he said. He stabbed at the pasta with his fork and took a bite without pleasure.

“I’m not the brains here.”

“What, like a cyclone? Joe, I bet you tornadoes and hurricanes kill more people each year than floods. Sure we wouldn’t get bad reviews and angry letters from folks whose families have been killed by tornadoes?”

Joe waved his hand again. “A cyclone sounds just fine. Anything that’s not a flood, you can do.”

It stunk to high heaven as far as Buster was concerned, but he knew Joe well enough to see when he’d made up his mind. He finished his tagliatelle in silence and didn’t even pretend he was willing to pick up the tab when Joe went to pay. He took a taxi back to the Senator and went to bed early, tossing between the sheets and stewing about his lost flood. There were butter cookies in the brown paper sack making dark greasy spots on its sides. Nelly stood outside Buster’s dressing room, her heart racing with the memory of what had happened last time she’d stepped inside it. Before she lost her nerve, she tapped on the door.

“Come in!” called Buster.

She slipped through and closed the door. He was sitting at his table again, not in costume today but wearing dark slacks and a long-sleeved blue jacquard shirt with faint stripes.

“Hi, it’s Nelly,” she said, by way of greeting.

“I haven’t forgotten your name,” said Buster, one corner of his mouth quirking. “What do you have there?”

She stepped a few feet forward and extended the bag. “I made you cookies.”

He looked from the bag to her as he took it, surprised. “What did I do to deserve such an honor?”

“I heard you broke your nose,” she said. Indeed, she could see up close that his nose was swollen near the top and there were small faded bruises beneath his eyes, not noticeable unless you were next to him.

“So you baked me cookies.” He peeked inside.

“Yes. I wanted to thank you, too,” she said, feeling the full ridiculousness of her gesture. “For taking care of me last Friday night.”

“No one’s ever made me get-well cookies before, not even my own mother. I’d just get cod-liver oil, even for sprains.” He sounded pleased.

“How’s your nose?” she said, as he bit into a cookie.

“Hurts like the dickens,” he said, chewing. “I’m hoping the swelling will go down by Friday so I can start filming again.” He didn’t remark upon the cookie as he finished it, but she noticed he pulled another out of the bag. “We’re doing the night scenes soon.”

She was still a little fuzzy on Steamboat Bill’s plot, but this week’s filming had involved hundreds of local extras, and the grander of the two steamboats was piloted up and down the river, belching out huge plumes of black smoke. She’d taken a break to watch the spectacle. The crowd’s enthusiasm for the steamboat seemed real. The whole set certainly looked real thanks to all the props down by the riverside, the small boats, the large pennants reading KING, and the patriotic bunting draped on storefronts. Buster had been on hand near the cameras helping direct, but hadn’t noticed her in the throngs.

Buster went on. “I’ve got this publicity man who says I can’t have a flood because of the lives that were lost when the Mississippi flooded, so we’re changing everything up for a cyclone.” She marveled a little that he was telling her anything about the production, but tried not to show it. “I wondered what those airplane propellers and big motors Bert had me order were for,” she said.

“These are good,” said Buster, pulling a third cookie from the bag. “Remind me to get hurt more often.”

“Or rescue foolish girls from themselves more often,” she said.

“It was nothing,” he said.

“It was something to me.”

He considered her as he started on the third cookie.

“Anyway, I already took lunch. I’ve got to get back to the shop,” she said.

“Okay,” he said.

She had her hand on the door when he spoke up again.

“Why that Shrew play, anyway? Why not Juliet?”

She turned back and looked at him, thoroughly confused. She had no idea how he knew about one of her dearest and closest ambitions.

He noticed her puzzlement and clarified. “You said your dream was to star in that Shrew play. Why? Why not Romeo and Juliet?”

“I don’t remember telling you that,” she said, feeling abashed

“Well, don’t get bent out of shape about it, I was just asking,” he said, a little defensively.

“No, I’m not bent out of shape, I’m surprised,” she said, as she faced him. “I don’t remember saying that. I’m afraid of what else I, uh, might have said that night.” She cringed to think of what else might have come out of her mouth. “I hope I didn’t beg you for a break or anything.”

He regarded her with a calm expression. “You didn’t. I’d still like to know, though.”

“Well, Kate has a mind of her own. She wants to control her own fate. Marriage isn’t for her,” she said, conscious of how clumsy her words were. “She’s fun to play. Romeo and Juliet is a little boring.”

In truth, it was Katherine’s spirit which she loved, the rebellion against her father and Petruchio, and hang the end of the play. In her experience, the audience never remembered the end of the play, only the beginning and middle where Katherine was at her most defiant and fiery.

Buster nodded, elbow on the table and finger sliding absently under his lip. The silence stretched on for long enough that Nelly said, “Anyway, I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks for the cookies,” Buster said.

Note: It’s easy when writing a fiction about Buster Keaton to cast Natalie Talmadge as a villain. I prefer to listen to Buster’s granddaughter Melissa Talmadge Cox who points out that the divorce is ancient history and that fans should get over it! Even though I’m writing a story that is obviously canon divergent, I always remember that Buster lived happily ever after with Eleanor Norris Keaton and considered himself to have had a lucky life with very few dark spots. Why did Natalie put a end to her sex life with the gorgeous, winsome Buster Keaton? I think the likeliest explanation is that she just wasn’t attracted to him or simply didn’t like sex. I do think Buster really loved her too and wanted things to work out, which is why their marriage lasted as long as it did. I’ve tried to convey that with this story. Also, I’m with Natalie. Trying to travel hours on a train with two young rambunctious boys sounds like a nightmare, even with a governess. And yes, the Keaton governess was also named Connie, not to be confused with Constance “Connie” Talmadge, who was also frequently called Dutch. Finally, with a lot of digging through newspapers I learned that the date Buster broke his nose was July 30th, 1927! So the first scene takes place on the 31st. The second occurs on Wednesday, August 3rd.

#Buster Keaton #fan fiction #fan fic #RPF fiction #Actor RPF #Golden Age Hollywood #Silent film

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missroserose · 4 years

Text

all you touch and all you see

“So...why are we here?”

A moment of silence. Fingers tighten around a trendy reusable mug. Green eyes flick up, meet his, far more sincere than he could have imagined, even a week ago.

“I can’t explain it. I’m just...more myself, when you’re around.”

Sam Wesson is dreaming. Well, half-dreaming; awake enough that he can tell that he’s lying in bed on sheets with some ridiculous thread count, covers bunched around his legs, the cool constant breeze of the ceiling fan blowing over his sleep-warm chest. At the same time, he’s sitting in the passenger seat of an old muscle car, rain tapping on the roof and hissing beneath the tires. The thrum of the V8 permeates his whole body as he flips through papers, research for the next job. The automatic reverse on the tape deck clicks over, and Sam wonders how many times Dean’s played this exact Led Zeppelin album on this very deck. A hundred? A thousand?

Dean. Dean is there in both worlds, beside him. He glances over to where this Dean is squinting through the rain. Takes in his scruffy jacket and worn shirt, hair standing on end in places, the ketchup stain on his jeans from his lunchtime drive-through burger. It’s such a contrast to the Dean beside him in the bed, the Dean of suspenders and suits and Brylcreemed hair, the environmentally conscious vegetarian Dean who wouldn’t be caught dead driving a car that got fewer than thirty miles to the gallon.

And yet, there are tells. Little commonalities, signs that the two of them aren’t as different as they might look. The way their eyes narrow slightly when faced with something they don’t immediately understand. Their absolute disdain for talking about feelings any more than strictly necessary. Their unbridled fierceness when they take on a threat, corporate or noncorporeal.

The way they both love Sam. Fierce. Devoted. Protective to a degree that makes Sam wonder, sometimes. Or would, if he weren’t every bit as smitten.

Sam isn’t sure what to say to that. It’s disconcerting, seeing Dean in casual clothes—still natty in a sweater and slacks, but his hair is carefully (and attractively) mussed, his posture a fraction looser. He keeps quiet, keeps his face open. Knows, somehow, that this is the best way to keep people talking.

“You bring out something good in me. If I’m going to keep climbing the corporate ladder, I need someone to help me remember I'm not actually in hell, you know?”

Sam can’t blame Dean for staying at Sandover, not really. He’s on the fast track, in a position most people their generation would kill for. Especially with the economy the way it is, steady jobs with good salaries and benefits are nothing to sneeze at. Working as an executive is prestigious; it’s not like he was a cubicle jockey, subject to the indignities of unflattering uniforms and unsavory coworkers. Dean is on his way up.

Sam, meanwhile, was on his way out.

The week after his slightly dramatic walkout, he’d been making serious plans to go hunting alone. Spent his days poring over newspapers, looking for strange deaths or weird occurrences; imagined sniffing out supernatural threats, saving people. He applied for a loan for a car—found a great deal on a Dodge Charger—and dedicated an afternoon to looking up supplies he might need to kit it out properly. It was terrifying and exhilarating reading, realizing how much might be out there, how many beings he had yet to encounter, how much studying there was to do. What to look for, what to pack, where to even begin.

Perhaps most saliently, his dreams—the strange, inexplicable dreams that had haunted him during his entire three weeks at Sandover, where he hunted things, where Dean was his partner, continually present—had stopped.

Then Dean Smith had called and asked him for coffee.

Dean’s eyes meet his again, just briefly, before dropping, a charmingly bashful smile spreading over his face. “Look, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything,” he says, rubbing the side of his neck, looking away. “It’s just, if you wanted...I think we could have a good time together.”

They do have a good time together—it’s a little surprising, really, the uptight executive and the slacker cubicle jockey pairing off. But they share a love of bad action movies, and a passion for video games; Sam hasn’t had his ass kicked so thoroughly and consistently in Halo 3 since college. But even beyond that, it was like their rhythms are aligned; they fall into cohabiting in Dean’s tiny apartment almost immediately, as if they’re already entirely used to living in each others’ pockets. Work during the day. Chores on weekends. And at night—

Well, of course, there’s the chemistry. The sheer blinding-white magnesium-flame heat of the two of them together, as bright-burning as it is undeniable. The way Dean’s eyes, green as his own, darken, pupils dilating, when Sam stands just a little too close. The pulse-pounding rush of need that hits him when Dean’s mouth curls up at one corner in just the right way, the way that indicates Sam is about to come harder than he ever has in his life. The soft, broken noises he knows Dean makes, that they both make, when they teeter together on the edge, a bare breath from tipping over, entwined.

“I know you don’t think this is our life. What we’re meant to be doing.” The words give the air around them strange twin taste—resigned and relieved, both. “But Sam—it’s a good life. It’s the life I’ve wanted, the one I never thought I’d be able to have. God knows my dad didn’t think I’d make it. Nobody did. But here I am.” His eyes meet Sam’s again. “Here we are.”

Those beautiful manicured hands on him feel right in a way Sam’s never experienced before. It’s not even sexual, not really—the sensation is there as much when Dean musses Sam’s hair as it is when Sam is shaking apart with Dean knuckle-deep inside him. There’s just something about the two of them together that’s...centering. Liminal. Like they form their own shelter, the eye of the hurricane when the chaos of the world is howling around them.

Sam asked Dean once if he felt the same. Dean had quirked a brow at him, given a little smile—”What, like some kind of past life thing? You going to start telling me we’re soulmates? Whatever you say, Samantha—” and yet there’s something in the way he touches Sam at times. Reverent. Almost disbelieving.

Like Sam, too, is something Dean had never thought he’d be able to have.

“I’ve got some connections at my old firm. I can make a few calls, get you an interview for a decent job.” He takes a drink of coffee, forcing a pause; shielding himself for a moment from Sam’s reaction. “I know it’s not your dream. But you could stay. With me.”

And yet, in a way, it is Sam’s dream. Because Sam’s been having dreams again, almost from the day of that fateful coffee date. Dreams where he and Dean do everything together that Sam had imagined, had read about. Where they hunt demons, vampires, demigods—creatures that make Old Man Sandover look like something out of Beetlejuice. Where they spend what feels like half their life in the boredom of long drives or library research sessions, punctuated by the heart-pounding adrenaline rush of a hunt, a fight. Where he and Dean save each others’ lives over and over, where they would die for each other, probably will sooner rather than later, but where they’re alive now, where they retreat victorious with whiskey or beer to their shitty motel room—

Somewhere more private. Lips swollen from kissing. A hand on the side of his face, long fingers threaded in his hair. Green eyes on his once more, open, honest. Vulnerable.

“I’d like you to stay. God, Sam—please. Stay.”

—and where they never, ever touch.

So Sam took the job. Let the loan application lapse, eventually deleted the various websites on ghosts and mythology and monsters from his bookmarks. He spends his days working in IT security, which is at least more interesting than tech support—it turns out he has a knack for breaking into systems, for getting into places he’s not supposed to be, for ferreting out information companies would prefer remain hidden. And his nights—well, if spending his nights in Dean Smith’s bed (and on his couch, and over his desk, and in his office chair, and) is the consolation prize for growing up and letting go of childish dreams, it turns out adult life has its perks as well.

He takes one last look at the scruffed-up Dean—still pretty, Sam thinks, fondly; there’s just no way to make a face like that look common—and lets the dream fade. The vibration of the engine, the hiss of tires on wet asphalt, even the dry-dusty smell of the Impala’s heater all grow distant; Sam moves his fingers, stretches, moves just enough to scoop his lover into the crook of his shoulder. Dean nuzzles him, murmurs a few nonsense syllables, and sighs, settling back into sleep.

Sam takes a deep breath through his nose. Hair pomade. Cologne. Sweat. Dean. It makes him happy, in the kind of way that leaves his chest a little tight, that brings tears to the corners of his eyes.

Most people don’t even get one life with Dean. He gets two. Gets to tread the thin line between them, the one where Dean is his perfectly ordinary lover, and the one where he’s—both more, and less.

As dreams go, he’ll take it, and be grateful.

#supernatural #sam/dean #smith/wesson #s04e17 it's a terrible life #wincest #my writing

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likehoneyandsilk · 4 years

Text

Notes From Her - The Middle

Notes From Her - The Beginning

It was the big debut. Mat’s first NHL game as an Islander in the city of Washington. She had flew in the morning of, catching him in a warm hug after she rushed through the airport crowd.

“Excited for tonight?” She asked, beaming smile on her face, when she pulled back from their kiss. He studied her for a bit, trying to understand how he was feeling. Her smile fell short, confusion spreading through her eyes. With her small hands she gently held his cheeks.

“I’m nervous, excited but I’m so nervous. What if I get cold feet?” She shook he head at his response, smiling softly as she kissed him again.

“You won’t. And it’s completely alright to feel how you’re feeling. Just remember that you’ve worked hard, and you’re here tonight for a reason.” He nodded, reassurance spreading throughout him, and nuzzled his neck into the fabric of her blue university sweatshirt.

“I’m glad you’re here” she chuckled, squeezing her arms around him. “I wouldn’t miss for the world Barzy.”

Night fell soon, and the anticipation was high. Alongside his family outside the locker room, holding onto his sisters hand, she stood with a proud smile on her face, adorned in her very own Barzal jersey. He arrived in his game day suit, hair styled neatly, and the slightest nervous grin. Making his grounds he greeted down the line, starting with his mother and ending with her.

“Good luck tonight” she whispered into his ear as he pulled her in for a hug. They parted, Mat smiling at how unreal this seemed. Here she was, dressed in his jersey, cheeks rosy red like the morning of the first game she watched him play. “Thanks babe.”

. . .

“October 15 2016. Your big NHL debut. This one is for the books. I’ll be cheering loud! Proud of you Barzy. Have a great game, I love you!”

“Anything you wanna share Barzal? Smiling pretty big there.” Captain Tavares chuckled behind his new teammate. Here was Mat, dressed in his alternative Islanders jersey, wearing his name and number proudly. Tavares patted his shoulder, smiling at him, glancing into the note in his hands.

“Your girl out there earlier?” Mar nodded, cheeks flushed, tucking the note into his coat pocket. “Let’s give her a good game then huh?”

. . .

“Oh my goodness. Is that Sidney Crosby?!” She squeezed his arm her voice high and her tone surprised. He followed her bewildered eyes to the podium where the Sidney Crosby himself was answering questions from the media. Mat chuckled, turning to meet his girlfriends gaze. “Yup” it was so nonchalant, as he nodded his head, staring at him in disbelief.

“Wow” she whispered, as he continued to guide her through All Star Media Day. Camera flashed everywhere and the auditorium was packed. Mat was currently making his way towards his podium where he’d be answering his own set of questions, but he’d managed to find some time in between the cameras and questions to steal her from the other wives and girlfriends and give her a personal tour.

Although this was his first All Star Weekend and he truly was honoured, she seemed to be far more amazed. Her eyes traveled throughout the auditorium, her face lighting up everytime she saw a player she’d watched over the years. Not on for cameras and lights she stuck close to his side, stepping back as he was stopped for interviews and watching proudly from behind the scenes.

The next morning she woke up next to him in the hotel bed. “Good morning All Star” her whispered greeting was warm, and her pulled her towards him, her nose pressing into his chest. Her lashes fluttered against his skin, and her grazed over his side. The San Jose sun beamed down on them from the large windows, painting them in gold.

His brand new suit hung across from them against the wall, and within in an hour a team would arrive to help him suit up. He had a red carpet to walk, and then it would be time for the Skills Competition. One she’d been looking most forward to.

Their solitude cut short, she poked his side. “We should get up” she mumbled, pulling herself away from him. Lifting her body off the mattes she towered abov him, her right arm holding up her weight. Her hair fell to one side of her face, strands resting against his broad shoulder. Mat smiled underneath her, his hair messy atop his head, his face freshly shaven. “We got an hour” he stared, his morning voice sending a surge through her veins, as he pulled on the collar of the shirt she wore to bed, one of many Islanders shirt that were far to big for her.

She shook her head teasingly. “Nope. No distractions.” And with a cheeky smile she lifted herself up, laughing as he protested. “Let’s go All Star!”

“Please tell Sidney Crosby I say hello! Have fun Barzy! Show McDavid what you’ve got!” Followed by a smiley face and a heart he chuckled to himself, as he got off the red carpet. She was waiting back in the locker rooms, adorned in his jersey while she chatted with another girlfriend.

He greeted her with a kiss, wrapping her hand in hers. “So I want you to meet someone” he guided her furthur into the locker room, towards the one and only. “Oh no I don’t think I should ...” her cheeks flushed as she protested.

“Sid! Hey, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend. You’re her second favourite hockey player.” Mat teased and joked with Sidney.

. . .

“I’m so sorry the team didn’t make it. But the effort and time it took to get where you are today as a team will not go unoticed. I love you.” A sad and heavy sigh escaped his lips. The Islanders were officially out of the Tsanley Cuo Playoffs, after a devestating loss to the Carolina Hurricane. The trip home has been tough. The season was over for him and the team.

He’d called her after the tough loss and as soon as he was on the bus home. T he wives and girlfriends had met up to watch the away game together, decked out their boys jerseys. The loss was heart breaking, watching as their men fell apart, the looks on their faces of disappoint. Knowing very well they wouldn’t be able to answer their phones the girls agreed to give the boys time, before all heading back to respective home, awaiting the arrival of what would be a devestated hockey player.

It was late when he arrived. Her textbooks were still sprawled across the kitchen table, the light above it still on. She could finally get back to the books. His fingers trailed over the thing pages aimlessly. She was always such a good sport. Combating an intensive and hard program in university while simultaneously going through this hectic journey with him, and working herself. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but she did and after the loss today he felt guilty of all she’d gone through this year with him, only to lose. A win was what they owed to their fans and loved ones.

He trailed into their bedroom. He could hear the bathroom tap running, the bathroom door closed halfway. He waited patiently by their bedroom door. He was tired, bruised and in need of rest. His mind felt foggy and his chest heavy. He hadn’t noticed when the bathroom door swung open and she appeared. He missed her surprised gasp, and then the gentle latter of her feet towards him.

“Mathew?” Her voice was gentle. His eyes met with her soft and comforting ones, her smile sad yet warming. The bedroom lamps cast a yellow golden hue in the bedroom, hitting off the walls and leaving her exposed skin glowing. Dressed in her blue cami pajama’s and an old grey zipped sweater. Her hair was held back in a loose ponytail.

“Barzy” she whispered, finally reaching for him and wrapping him in a tight hug. She held him for a few minutes, and he held onto her. Her fingers grazed through his hair. “It’s gonna be okay” he couldn’t help but let a few tears fall from his eyes, holding her closer.

“I’m sorry love. I’m so sorry.” She wiped his cheeks with her thumbs, “I missed you” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “I missed you too.” She rubbed his arms lovingly, but underneath her touch he was still tense

“Let’s get you ready for bed. You need to rest up.” He felt numb as he nodded, letting her guide him towards the bathroom. She motioned first him to sit on the vanity, while he watched her prepare the tub with a warm bath, filling it with soothing salts and oils. He laid out his razor, ready to shave off the outcome of what his playoff beard was.

Finishing up with the tub she turned back to him. “Are you sure?” She asked, eyes falling to the razor. “I’m sure” he stated, and without a another word she set to work. Her hands helped him out of his suit jacket, her fingers working through his tie, and then undoing all the buttons of his shirt. He watched her as her face focused on the sole task of helping him relax and somehow feel better.

His legs tightened around her body as he position herself between them. With time and attention to detail she began to complete the task of shaving his playoff beard. Once done and clean shaven, she smiled softly, holding onto his jaw as she pulled him close, and pressed her lips against his. He melted into her, holding onto her waist. Her hands trailed down his bare arms, and Mat groaned softly when she pulled away.

“I’ll see you in bed when you’re ready.” She motioned to the bath, and with a final peck to his cheek he watched as she left the bathroom.

30 minutes later and much less tense Mat arrived out of the bathroom. Clean shaven, smelling like musk and lavender. A familiar pairs of grey sweatpants hang off his waist, his chest exposed and brown hair messy atop his head after his shower. She smiled as she put her book down, laying on her side of the bed, her hair down and the grey sweater on the nightstand next to her. She’d fluffed his pillows and prepared his side.

“Come here” he followed suit, laying in between her legs and placing his chest underneath her neck. He breathed in her scent. Let himself loose as she held him. His arms wrapped around her waist. They stayed that way for a while, her holding him. As her fingers began to massage his scalp, and her heartbeat settled into his ear he spoke.

“I feel like I let everyone down.” Her fingers paused for a second. An then start abruptly. Mat knew this was her cue to let him finish. “I let down Coach, the team, the fans, my parents, and ... you” his voice cracked. She sighed, shaking her head.

“Mathew” her fingers trailed to his back, where she gently rested her palms. He shuffled beneath her, turning to his side and falling next to her. He searched her eyes for answers. She lay next to him, close as she could and rested her hand against his cheek.

She smiled softly, rubbing soothing circles against cheek. “You didn’t let me down. Please don’t think you let me down” he relaxed against her body, wrapping his arm around her waist. “And the fans will always be fans. It’s a loss for them too but at the end of the day you boys made it this far and for fair reason. Regardless of the end the season was successful enough to bring you into playoffs. There’s always plenty more Stanley Cup Playoffs.”

She paused, letting her words settle in him. “You’re team is going through the same thing you are. It’s a team effort to play this game. You can’t take all the blame and you can’t play the game alone. And your parents. Mat they are proud of every one of your achievements. You haven’t let anyone down”

Her words settled in, as he thought over them. “I know this is tough, and I know it hurts. I can’t imagine what this is like to be on your end. But I can assure you no matter what, you never let me down.” She pulled him in silently then, letting him relax against her and his eyes began to drift to sleep overtime.

“Thank you babe. I love you.” He whispered to her in the silence. “Of course. I’ll be here every win and every loss. I love you too Barzal, I love you too”

. . .

“Good luck tonight!” Mat chuckled at the note she’d tucked away in his suitcase. She appeared through the hotel room door, shutting it behind her and catching his attention. “I see you’ve received my note” she teased. When he looked up he was speechless.

“You look beautiful” he wrapped his arms around her a tight hug, before kissing her cheek. Her hair had been styled in waves and was placed perfectly to one side. She was radiating in a beautiful baby pink dress. She blushed, thanking him. “And you look dashing yourself” she pointed out, letting her eyes travel all over his figure, decked out in his special NHL Awards suit.

She’d skipped out on the red carpet with his family, waiting inside the large Las Vegas Luxor Hotel and Casino. Now as they settled into their seats, the anticipation grew. Mat was nominated for the Calder trophy, and his entourage was sure he would in it. Mat’s parents and sister rose from their seats, smiling at the couple. “Gonna go say hello to some of the other parents! Be back soon.” his mom announced, smiling as she walked away with his father, arms linked.

Mat sighed, beginning to get nervous. “Hey” she wrapped her hand in his, patting it gently. “It's going to be fine.” He leaned into her, nodding his head. “It’s a huge honor to even be nominated for this, let alone winning. You’ve worked hard and proved your worth. You have a real big shot at this.” her voice was comforting, her smile rewarding.

And within a few minutes the award ceremony had begun. Over time more awards were given and more time was passing. By the minute Mat was beginning to get more anxious, and then they announced the next award they would be presenting. His mother patted his shoulder in reassurance, his father smiling at him. His sister sitting two seats down gave him a quick glance, biting at her lip hoping her brother would win this award. He turned to look at her next to him for a split second, sighing in relief when she smiled, nodding towards the stage. He reached for her hand, squeezing it in nervousness, and then they were ready to announce the winner.

“The Calder Trophy winner is … Mathew Barzal!”

“Congratulations!” she whispered into his ear after he hugged his parents, wrapping her in a hug, a proud smile on her face, and he kissed her on the cheek before making his way to accept his award.

. . .

“I can’t believe Summer is almost over” the stars above them painted pictures in the dark sky. Down below they lay atop a pile of bedsheets in his old pickup truck, the hood of the trunk open and their shoulders pressed against each other’s. They’re hands interlocked between them.

“I know” he replied, turning his head to look at her. Illuminated by the silver scatters above, her cheeks still had their natural rosy tinge, lashes long and bright and her pink lipgloss faint from being worn all day. The pretty sundress rested atop her body, the straps thon atop her collar bone and the green dress with the white flowers brought out the glow of her skin.

After hockey season had ended and her Spring semester exams had been completed, the couple had set back to Coquitlam for the Summer holidays. With no hockey for him and no school for her, they’d agreed that the Summer would be spent back home. And now months later the arrival of school and hockey was soon coming upon them. The leaves were beginning to change colour and the Summer breeze that wrapped them at night was becoming colder day by day.

Summer was filled with time well spent with family, friends and one another. From lake days to backyard bbqs. The cliche parties with friends from the past. Drive ins and trips to the best tourist spots in Vancitt they knew by heart. Road trips and endless combination of milkshakes and fries at their favourite diner. Of course Mat took our time everyday to train for the season, and volunteered through plenty of hockey organizations to get back to the community. And she was volunteering at a local hospital, to gain more experience and knowledge of the career she was pursuing.

Needless to say the thought of heading back to New York was bittersweet.

“We should head home” she announced, turning on her side to face him. They packed up their makeshift mattress and settled back into the truck. Deciding to head back to her childhood house, having it all to themselves with her family out of town. Mat followed her upstairs to her old room, although he could easily navigate through this place with his eyes closed. As they approached the top of the staircase, Mat began to think of all the times he’d climbed her balcony back when they were younger. She’d left him a note one night, reminding him that her father could and would hear everything. Surprinsgly he never got caught.

Her old bedroom hadn’t changed much, most of her art and pictures still hanging on the walls, things she hadn’t taken with her to New York, having the peace of mind that this bedroom would still feel like hers when she came home. She parted from his grasp to close her balcony door curtains and Mat caught sight of an old picture of the two on her night stand. It was from the Workd Juniors, they’re smiles big, a Canada toque on her head and his jersey around her. She held him close and he held her. He turned the frame over in his hands, chuckling as he read the tiny note she’d taped to the back.

“World Juniors 2017. Good luck tonight! I love you!”

“I never got this one.” She settled next to him on the bed, resting her head atop his shoulder. She chuckled at the tiny note, remembering she had never given the note to him. “That’s because when I tried to be as smooth as possible and sneak it into your coat pocket, and it just didn’t go well.” They laughed at the thought. She gently peeled off the note from the back, placing the frame back in its spot.

“You can have it now if you’d like.” Holding out the note for him with a mischief look in her eyes. Mat studies her for a second, before shaking his head no with a smirk on his face. She withdrew her hand, shrugging and then getting up to place the note back on the frame.

“However” his voice rose in the air and with surprise he pulled her into his chest, holding her firmly while pressing his lips against her neck. “To make up for the missing note I have an idea.”

Her cheeks flushed red as she shook her head teasingly with a smile. “That’s a little unfair. Over a little note Barzy” She teased, her clumsy fingers aging with the strings of his hoodie. She bit into her lip as she waited for him to make his move, her eyes yearning for his offer.

“You be the judge of that. I’ll stop when you tell me to” with a smirk acros his pink lips he pressed his lips against her. She kissed back instantly, pulling him onto the bed above her. “I’ve made my decision. I’ll make it up to you.” She whispered against his lips, before he swept her away for a while, skin to skin and lips to lips.

. . .

“Don't forget to come find me when it’s nearing midnight!” He’d been pocketing the note all night after a few girls had dragged her away from him. She’d arrived with him from the rink after their win, making a quick stop home to change for the party. Presuming that she’d be split from him seconds upon arrival, she’d snuck a note into his blazer pocket before kissing him on the cheek. New Years Eve in Times Square was grand, but this year the team had decided to celebrate together, as many of those who could, along with other friends. They’d rented out a cabin in New York to get away from the business of the city. And now as the clock approached midnight and the party guests began to get excited, the music began to die down and Mat searched for her in this over crowded cabin.

He made his way up the stairs that lead to the balcony. There were only a few minutes left before the count down began. In relief he found her on the balcony, looking out at the fireworks that someone had already started to explode into the night sky, before it even approached midnight. “There you are!” he exclaimed, closing her off between the balcony and him, his arms cascading around her and hands resting on the balcony rails. She smiled, giggling at his remark.

“It’s freezing up here. Aren't you cold?” he wondered, pulling his blazer off and wrapping it around her bare arms. She protested, but he shrugged her off, already wearing a sweater underneath and fairly warm. She looked remarkably pretty in her long black dress, that was sparky and scattered with white stars. Her heels gave her a light advantage to her usual height, but still not enough, that he leaned down to bump noses with her. “I know” she mumbled, pausing as the countdown began down below them. “It was the only way to get alone.”

“5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1!” Down below them their friends cheered loudly, fireworks erupted all around them far and near. And Mat pulled her against him, kissing her so passionately. The taste of cherry Chapstick and faint traces of liquor merged together, and she smiled against his lips. Her arms snaked through the large blazer, her small hands resting against his sides. Pulling back after a while she sighed, her long lashes fanning over her cheeks as she closed her eyes for a second, content and processing everything.

“Happy New Year” she mumbled, before leaning in for another kiss. He chuckled, “Happy New Year babe.”

Notes From Her - The Future

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #nhl #hockey imagines #new york islanders #isles #barzal

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fizzypunks · 4 years

Text

its a date but its not a date

fandom: My Hero Academia/ Boku No Hero Academia word count: 3.8k/oneshot rating: t summary: hizashi takes shouta to a little festival and insists its not a date... just pure fluff bc <3

ship: Aizawa Shouta/ Hizashi Yamada | Erasermic

note: this reads better in AO3 because it keeps formatting for italics, which tumblr does not!

AO3

___

Yamada Hizashi wasn’t a timid person – it wasn’t even a quirk thing, it was just his nature, and it was something he was proud of. Sure, he’d been called loud and obnoxious, and some have been less than kind about his quirk when it’s gotten out of control. His quirk control wasn’t great for a very long time, but none of what he’d been called or heard had really changed the way he carries himself, and that includes his extroverted nature.

He was, however, a panicked person, when it came to matters of interest .

Love.

Whatever .

And, because love was the one thing that made him think twice about what he says, what he does or doesn’t do, that has landed him in the exact predicament that he’s facing right now.

Hizashi tapped his pen against his essay, the half filled pages of his stationary blurring together into a mass of lines and half-assed penmanship. He’d been staring at it for the past five minutes, when he’d given up on trying to ignore his annoying problem.

Shouta .

It’s been getting harder to ignore the stupid pull of something he’s recently identified as yearning that comes every time he thinks of his best friend. Stronger than any hurricane gale, it pulls in every thought he has until there are no more to be had. Just Shouta, and his messy hair, and the eyes he thinks are pretty despite always being so blood-shot.

Hizashi groans, faintly feeling heat spill across his cheeks. “God, why must I be so fucked?”

It’s not like he’s even asking him out on a date – no, he’s not bold enough to do that in their last year and semester of school– there’s no need for distractions like that right now, whatever outcome may or may not come from it…. no, he’s just asking to take Shouta to the Autumn festival at the park, because Shouta should do something fun and get out of his room and not explode from stress.

The poor guy has been spending all his time studying and stressing and sleeping even less , so of course Hizashi would want to help his friend out and get him to relax.

Yeah, that’s what it was – one friend asking another friend out because stress is bad.

That doesn’t change the nervous skip in his heart right now, as he sits at his desk and thinks about…

Hizashi groans again, tipping back in his chair and hooking his foot against the back of his desk so that he’s less likely to tumble. Theoretically, at least.

Why does it feel so significant right now? He’d asked Shouta to do countless things with him! He’d gotten him to agree to go to the movies a bunch of times, and to a party or two, and, most recently, he’d even been able to rope him into going to a karaoke club! He didn’t sing, they left earlier than he’d planned, but Shouta had fun!

Hizashi narrowed his eyes at the white ceiling and the ceiling fan that whirled past his vision, playing with the very edge of the wooden panel that kept him from tumbling onto his carpet.

This wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but somehow it did.

It felt like a declaration, no matter how he phrased it in his head, and he doesn’t understand the logic behind it.

Fine. Whatever! I’ll just ask, and be blunt, and do it right before I leave so there’s no room for thinking, and it’ll be okay!

Something like, “Hey, Shouta, let’s go to this festival! It’ll be so much fun! PLUS, I think you’ll look cute sharing cocoa with me!”

Hizashi’s eyes widened, his foot slipped in that one moment of lost focus, and he fell –

“ Fuck!”

It was a little too loud, bordering on quirk use, but he had other problems to think about beside that .

He rubbed the back of his head.

“Man…”

If he can’t even imagine it the right way… how was he supposed to actually ask? It would be pretty stupid to try when he knew he could act a little too carelessly and, potentially, damage the good friendship they had going on.It was probably better left un-asked.

Unsaid, un-asked, and out of mind.

It was most certainly not out of mind, that is clear.

Shouta is sitting across from him, half-mast eyes scanning the copy of his English text book in a way that looked a lot more performative than informative. Their booth was tucked more toward the back of the cafe, and it would normally be a bit more secluded and quiet, but midterms brought students from the woodwork and into any coffee-scented establishment, which their happened to be.

What great luck.

All around them was the sound of machines grinding coffee, books being shifted around, and light conversation in between bouts of half-silences – and a heavy vale of constant movement that proved to be less than ideal for studying, despite all the students trying to do just that .

It was to be expected this time of year, but it was still enough to bother Shouta. He concentrated better with silence, and he happened to be struggling a lot more on English than he does on his other subjects.

Hizashi, thankfully, understood the material enough for the both of them and then some, and already finished his homework – the papers in front of him were notes, ready to be explained the moment Shouta needed it, with hand-writing that was still pretty bad but…

For Shouta, he’d made an effort. The result was somewhat-legible scribbles lining the papers, and when he referenced it, Shouta didn’t have to ask too many questions about, “what is this right here?”

“I’m not going to pass.”

Hizashi turned his eyes to Shouta, like he hadn’t been trying to find a reason to look at him longer. He was wearing a big, thick red scarf, which his hair was somewhat tucked into. He didn’t look up, he just kept his eyes on his text book. His irises weren’t moving on the page.

“Oh man, don’t say that! How’d you think you’re gonna pass if you don’t believe in yourself?”

“It’s because I don’t believe in myself.”

Hizashi grabbed his warm cocoa and took a sip, if only to busy his hands with something . “Shouta! I don’t like this type of negativity!”

“Well, you’ve chosen the wrong friendship then.”

“Or, maybe, the right one!”

Shouta looked up, and Hizashi held his gaze. His eyes had been given a break over the past few days of written work, so the redness that often lined them was almost completely gone.

His skin looked soft too…

His hair, it was fluffy and cute, also..

“Hizashi?”

He’d been staring and not talking and he leaned back into his seat like a magnet to metal. He started laughing, holding his drink up to his face. “Well, maybe I can cheer you up! What are friends for, right? And maybe it will turn that attitude around, ya think?”

“You’re not making any sense?”

Hizashi hated that it was true but there’s no going back now – his mouth was ten steps ahead of him anyway, and not even he could stop it.

He smiled widely at Shouta. “I mean, maybe I’m here to make sure you don’t stress yourself out so much! You always do so much but never check yourself, and I’m here to fix that!”

Shouta huffed, head bobbing just a bit. Then he smirked and Hizashi had to concentrate on his breathing. “And how do you propose you’d do that?”

Oh, it was so easy – this was the opportunity the gods gave him after seeing him fall on his ass just a few days before.

Hizashi leaned forward, and set his elbows down on his notes, a hot cocoa between them. “One word. Festival .”

Shouta’s eyebrows quirked down just a bit, and he tilted his head to the side, his hair tilting with him. “Festival?”

“What do ya say? The park next to my neighborhood has one this weekend, and it’s free, and there’s food, and I really wanna go!”

Hizashi grew pink at the admission, fought against the urge to cover his mouth, but Shouta didn’t comment.

Then, a little surprisingly, instead of arguing or finding reasons why it wasn’t logical to take time away from studies so close to exams, he gave him a smile.

A small, intentional, Shouta smile. “Sure.”

Hizashi tried to not sound over-enthused – just nodded his head and almost squeezed his cup too hard. “Yes! I finally got you to agree to do something!”

“You always get me to do things.”

“Yes, and I did it again!”

Shouta rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back down to the English he’d never really understand.

Hizashi was certain he looked fine. He wasn’t sure if it was great , but it was probably fine, and whatever.

Beside, had many other things to worry about, that were a lot more important than whether or not his shirt matched his shoes. Like, for one, how he still couldn’t quite shake the feeling of significance .

It was back, that nagging intrusion into his thoughts that insisted that something was supposed to be different this time. As he looked over his outfit in his body mirror, pulling over his heavy, long jacket, he had to remind himself that there was nothing different about today. Even if he really, in his heart, wanted there to be something different.

Huh.

So maybe the difference was the amount of yearning – Hizashi sighed, thinking about his feelings last year and comparing them to now.

He huffed, a huge sigh finally making itself known.

Yeah, the feelings he had now were bigger and grander than they’d been last year and they threatened to take over his life if he let them…

Hizashi sighed, rubbed his hands over his face, and pushed his hair back only to reveal his pink, flustered expression to its fullest.

“Sweet lord, have mercy on me! I am an idiot with a crush!”

He collapsed onto his bed and waited out the last of the thirty minutes before Shouta was going to arrive at his door.

Shouta knocked, and Hizashi was already ready – his heart doing flips like he’d never experienced, but oddly enough, it didn’t feel bad. It felt exciting, and loving, and when he opened the door to the crisp autumn air, it felt like home .

Stop that!

Shouta, for all his questionable outfits, looked nice . And he always looked nice, but now he was wearing black boots, and brown khakis that somehow sort of matched Hizashi’s own, and a black tee underneath a black jacket.

He never went anywhere in the cold without a scarf, either, and today was no exception. A red variety was ceremoniously draped around his neck, loose enough to not be covering his face.

Hizashi tried not to beam, but felt the shape his eyes took at the other and knew it wasn’t working. “Ready?!” He asked, a little too loud.

“Yes… you said it was close, right? At the park?”

Hizashi nodded, stepping out and slipping his hand into a pocket to make sure he had his keys and wallet. Confirming quickly, he shut the door behind him, again, with a little too much enthusiasm.

He was buzzing . Some type of energy that he normally had built up in him, that he normally kept pretty good reins on, was taking over –

He was so excited, but, even more – he was just happy .

He looked to Shouta, and smiled, and then led the way down his steps and onto the quiet street. The sky was clear, save for some cloud further down on the horizon. The trees were starting to make themselves barren, and the smell of wood burning fires started to break out as soon as the sun hit its peak.

The neighborhood, secluded and at peace, was quiet, and Shouta walked beside him in comfort.

Hizashi never struggled to say anything, and now is no different – except it is, when he thinks he’ll say something dumb like “hey i like you so much, you make my world right, also I love you. ”

He can’t say that.

But he really, really wants to.

He’s wanted to for years, and he’s almost said it more than once, and now he’s let the silence build around them…

Shouta often takes mercy on him, and so he did it again this time. Their pace was slow and there was a little bit of space between them, and he sighs. “This is really nice.”

Hizashi smiles, keeps his eyes on the road as it winds forward. “I’m glad you think so! We’ve stressed so much, it’s a good weekend getaway, don’t you think?”

Shouta laughs – it’s more of a chuckle, but it’s a laugh where Shouta is concerned. “Yeah, you’re right. I needed this, a lot, I think…”

They reach the corner, looking for cars that weren’t coming. The crest of trees a few blocks ahead could be seen above rooftops, and that’s where Hizashi fixes his gaze. “Me too,” he says softly, and leaves it at that because he’s always on the verge of too many words.

“You seem really… energized.”

Hizashi fumbles with his hands, pretending to warm them up and not like he’s nervous. “When am I not!”

Shouta hums, and it’s so deep and close that it makes Hizashi wish he could just…

But then Shouta reaches out, and grabs at the hands Hizashi is cradling in front of him, blunt and to the point. He takes Hizashi’s left hand and slots their fingers together in his right, and Hizashi knows he can feel the clamminess…

He looks back, sputtering, his heart erratic, “Shou – wha– I’m –”

Does he know this is messing with me?

And Shouta, in that calm, stupid way he always carries himself, smiles. “Maybe that’s what I’m here for.”

He squeezes their hands, and Hizashi must look confused because Shouta laughs.

“You always try to bring me up, so I think I can help bring you calm… You seem nervous, so,” he looked at their hands, swung them just a bit for emphasis. “Calm.”

Hizashi feels every bit of himself crumble, falls away like a cliff against a storm, and smiles because it’s all he can do. He blushes and he can feel how it spreads, and he doesn’t say anything because every sentence ends in I love you .

The festival was a pleasant and home-y affair, and after they’d gotten there, they’d learned that it was quite bigger than either of them anticipated. Though it was still a neighborhood one, hosted by the local families and park itself, it was still filled to every corner.

They’d gotten there during the peak of the sun, but it quickly descended as they wove in and out of the scattered foot traffic. The air was crisper where the lake sat in the center of the park, and the trees casted half shadows around the food and merchant vendors.

They were walking around for less than an hour before the lanterns and torches were starting to light around them.

Shouta still held Hizashi’s hand, and once he’d accepted the lovely fact, he’d loosened up enough to feel like his mouth wasn’t going to get him into trouble.

“Wow! Shou! Look!” He pointed out, across the deep blue lake, to the hovering lights that surrounded it.

Shouta hummed warmly. “It looks very nice.”

Hizashi was still smiling, still enamored by the lights as they floated out across his vision – the way the cool air from the dipping sun brushed against his skin and somehow made all the warmth in him that much warmer.

He quickly cast his eyes down to Shouta, and found him looking at him.

Hizashi’s ears burned and he looked away really fast, heart thumping deep in the cage of his chest.

Oh don’t you dare say it. Don’t you DARE.

“Um…” He said softly, intentionally because otherwise his quirk might get the best of him – he didn’t know if he was embarrassed by his enthusiasm, or by the way Shouta was watching him, but it all went away when Shouta tugged them along the side of the lake.

It’s a few more moments before Hizashi gathers up the right words to say – the ones that aren’t gushy and filled with emotions he’s certain Shouta wouldn’t reflect.

“So!” He starts, looking around now that they were near the cluster of food stands. The air was filled with burning wood, meat, sauce, alive with the sound of simmering and laughter. “Want food? My treat! We can’t walk away without trying everything at least once!”

“I didn’t know you were rich enough to do that.”

Hizashi chuckled. “I’m serious, though. Whatever you want!”

Hizashi ignored the eyes tilted his way, right before leading off to Hizashi’s right. Hizashi turns around enough to look at the little stand and it’s cloth menu.

It was a takoyaki shop, with different bao, and there was no line.

Hizashi smiled, and it was his turn to tug Shouta forward. He couldn’t really look at him, not just yet any way, but he could hear the light lilt in his voice when he ordered from the kind eyed older man at the register. Hizashi made his order quickly, and paid, and they walked away with various stacks of food.

It wasn’t even a question where they’d go, and they found a spot under a tree to sit with their food.

The grass was cut, and the little hill they sat on overlooked a great deal of the sprawling festival that surrounded them. Up here, the voices that surrounded them, the chatter, the laughter that Hizashi was not interested in, was duller – muted, and when Shouta hummed in hungry appreciation at his bao, it made his heart ache all the more.

He snuck a look to his right, graced by the mercy of Shouta closing his eyes. He’d just taken a bite, had unravelled most of his scarf to do so, and was now enjoying it for all it’s worth.

Hizashi’s eyes softened at the sight.

God.

And Shouta opened his eyes, in his direction like he just knew.

Hizashi looked down and took his bao. “This looks good! I should eat like this more.”

“You should take me to more festivals, too.”

Hizashi choked a bit – he recovered fast, and cast a glance toward Shouta. “Sure thing!”

This feeling...

Maybe this is what he had been feeling – the lead up to whatever moment this was. The way Shouta really took the time to look at him, not through him. Like he was paying attention.

Maybe…

Hizashi held his oversized bao in both hands and looked forward. It suddenly didn’t feel like such a bad idea to speak. To say whatever it was that he was going to say, because for Shouta, it would always be okay…

Didn’t make him feel any more at ease, not with the stupid thought in his head that maybe he was misreading whatever today was. Who knows, maybe Shouta always paid attention to him like this? And sure, the hands thing… that was new, but maybe Shouta just really likes holding hands but he needs to be comfortable with the person, and now after three years he’s finally comfortable with Hizashi?

If you’re gonna say something…

“Hey,” he started.

Say it now.

“I’m having a really good time.”

He doesn’t take his wide, blown-out eyes from the festival. It was dark enough that every lantern stood out like little stars, and the breeze was so nice…

“If you want… we can, um, do this again. I’ll find another festival, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be free this time, but I’ll try! And I’ll see if I can sneak in some home made food too so we can spend more money on like, cute stuff from the merchants. I saw this plush down there, actually, and it was a cat , so maybe –”

No, Hizashi wasn’t a timid person – but, still , it was probably for the best that Shouta was the first one to move. He grabbed Hizashi’s hand, urging it away from the bao so that he could hold it again.

He’d pulled his attention to the forefront, and his eyes to finally meet his, and he realized that Shouta had moved so much closer…

The dark of his eyes was so close, and he was smiling …

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous.”

There wasn’t a way to hide the flush, so Hizashi looked down, feeling too open. “I’m sorry…”

He couldn’t see his eyes, but he could see his smile. “I like it, though.”

“What about if I say I like you... Will you still like it?”

Please…!

Shouta didn’t leave him any time to doubt.

“It makes it a lot easier… for me to say I like you, too… yeah, I’d like it…”

Hizashi’s entire body was fireworks – explosions and exclamations and that same buzzing energy that gripped him every time he thought of Shouta. He grinned, and looked up to see Shouta was just as embarrassed and flustered as he was.

He’d normally have to look away, but he assumed he had permission now, and…

God you’re so pretty…

His eyes, his eyelashes, the way his eyes bend against his smile and how he’d never seen him smile like this before…

Hizashi abandoned the bao in his lap and pushed away the hair that framed his face, slowly, not sure if it was too much to hold his face –

“I’m – I’m sorry, can I?”

Shouta nodded. “And you can kiss me too, in case you weren’t sure…”

That was all the reason he needed.

He’d had so many reasons, so many countless reasons he loved him...

He cupped his jaw, still acutely aware of the way Shouta was still holding on to his hand in the grass –

It was cold, that was true, but right now he was warm with nerves and excitement and love , and he leaned in –

His breath, so warm –

His lips, so soft –

And neither of them were particularly experienced or daring, so after a few seconds when he finally parted their lips just a bit, they pulled away, just enough to speak.

“Mmm, you taste like bao,” he said, and then wished someone was there in his brain to stop whatever dumb shit was trying to get out.

Shouta just laughed. “So do you.”

The rest of their night was spent on that hill, kissing and talking and, eventually, finishing their food. When they finally left, Hizashi found that plush cat at the vendor near the entrance of the park and gave it to Shouta. Shouta blushed, and Hizashi glowed with comfortable warmth, glad that he can now get cute things for his boyfriend.

#erasermic #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #aizawa #writing #oneshot #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #long post #xpost #prompted for fluff and autumn...#my discord server is so nice ahhh #fluff

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alloveroliver · 4 years

Text

Victor x MC “Snowfall”

Rating: Ch 1 is Fluff

Summary: On a fateful business trip, Victor takes a chance during a snowstorm to pick MC up, when taxies won’t brave the storm any longer, to take her to the airport. They both try to make it back to Loveland before new years, but the weather only gets worse, forcing them to make a stop at his old family cabin in the middle of nowhere. The two, hardly acquaintances, are shoved together under one roof for a long weekend. They slowly get to know one another, and Victor begins to unravel his tightly bound knots and shows her who really is hiding behind his stern mask.

A|N: Slow Burn~ Getting to know each other, mutual pining.

WC: 7,800~

Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice Fanfic

Chapter 1

Snow fell in thick clumps all around the vehicle as they shot past another blurry exit sign. She adjusted her legs, crossing and recrossing them over the heated leather seat. Her thick stockings slid over the fabric while she positioned herself. They were stylish but proved to have a hard time insulating heat against her chilly skin. After being cooped up in a car for so long with Victor, it was hard to remain still like he asked. She grew antsier as the road stretched on, but Victor seemed to become the opposite.

“I think that sign said ‘Exit 41’” She tapped the cold glass in the direction of the road. Even in the heated car, a hint of fog filled the air from her breath.

The air outside was relentless as the snow fell in thick sheets. The weather gave no heed to the two traveling though it and continued its assault upon the landscape. Not a house, gas station, or any sign of life was around for miles. The only proof they were still in civilization was the four-lane paved road they carefully traveled upon. They hadn’t even seen another car in hours, assuming the weatherman put out a warning for all that lived in this area to stay home.

Victor took in a steady breath and drove just as calm as if he were simply driving to the grocery store for some milk. “Two more exits to go then.” His velvety voice soothed her tightening chest. His words, when not being used for scolding, were like warm cashmere smoothing over her skin.

His voice felt even more comforting after the long silence that stretched out between them. She held that warmth close to her heart, tucking away that emotion for later when it was more appropriate to explore. Diagnosing the reason her heart raced and cheeks heated when he was near would inevitably lead to disappointment and, most certainly, embarrassment.

He was an impenetrable wall made of solid steel. She didn’t have the tools to chip away at that, nor the time or patience with her own life swirling around her as it did. Work was a huge part of her life, and becoming close to Victor, her boss, would undoubtedly complicate her daily ritual. She couldn’t see what he hid underneath his facade, just those small glimpses of kindness and selflessness that he quickly tucked away from the world the second they were exposed.

Shifting her weight toward the door, she eyed the handle as if to tempt herself to use it as a means of escape. She pictured herself dramatically tossing her body out the car and comically rolling away from Victor’s pristine Rolls Royce. Shoes flying and scarf flapping, she was sure she could get away in time to be lost to the storm. He’d never be able to find her under the inches of snow on the side of the road. She could take what she had with her and find a new town to move to. Change her name, color of her hair, and find a new profession. Surely Victor would never find her then. She’d never have to confess her feelings to him or hold them inside any longer. The emotions swirled in her chest like a category five hurricane on a good day. She could hold her tongue, for now at least, until she found a more reasonable way to rid herself of these complicated feelings.

Her mind swirled with other stories of escape thanks to the silence, one even more absurd than the last. The drive hadn’t been without its own entertainment, though. Piano music that gently carried around the car faded within the first hour after Victor’s phone died. After two more hours, it was her phone’s turn to go out. They had gotten good use out of it in that time, though. They used the device for its GPS to direct them to civilization, even if the weather made it mildly inaccurate at times.

The blizzard had unintentionally turned them around and gotten them lost along the countryside. They’d lost their way for too long to make it back to the airport in time. Even if they did make it back to the airport, who’s to say the flights weren’t already delayed for days at this point.

She took in a deep breath and let her chest fall quietly. It seemed hopeless and dangerous they were cut off from the world like this. If the car broke down, their very lives could be at risk. She shook her head to stave off the grim thoughts that easily budded in her bored mind.

“Why the heavy sigh? We are close to the cabin now.” Victor spoke without looking over at her, though he could have done that very easily. “One more exit.”

She wondered why he was acting so calm. And, why was his voice not laced with his usual toxicity? Where were Victor’s quips and typical underhanded insult-compliment hybrids?

Earlier, Victor had turned around on the freeway after the GPS died. They were headed to the airport, but the blizzard only got worse the closer they got, making the way to civilization treacherous. He set his course on the familiar cabin stating it would be their only viable option due to the circumstances. When they’d passed it before, he recounted how there would be heat and food for a long weekend if they needed it. Now, they were headed straight to it. The cabin was a beacon of hope, literally becoming their reality for survival.

She shrugged his question off and looked over at his hands, squeezing the wheel. Victor’s knuckles were pale, and she stared at his hands for far longer than what was socially acceptable to do. “It’s hopeless that we would be able to make it back to Loveland in time for New Years.”

Victor’s knuckles turned white, gripping the wheel hard as they veered off the highway onto the exit ramp. His face was calm and cool, but the thick veins popping out of the back of his hand as he drove gave her a sense of the anxiety he was feeling.

“Nothing we can do about it now.” Victor shrugged lackadaisically.

Did he really not care whether they made it back in time to Loveland or not? Why was he so content with the situation they were stuck in? You could have told him the cabin was full of angry bees, and he wouldn’t even change his calm tone of voice. Why wasn’t he freaking out?

“Does this cabin have chargers? People are going to think we died if we don’t contact someone soon.” She rubbed her hands together and blew into her palms fruitlessly. Victor’s suit jacket was in her lap, covering her knees like a blanket. It did little to help keep her warm, but the gesture was kind, and his scent engulfed her, making it impossible for her to turn down his gentlemanly act.

He bit his lip thoughtfully and slowed down to turn onto a long winding road. She didn’t even realize a street was there in the dense snowfall, making her hands grip the seat to steady herself at the shock of the turn.

“Truthfully, I haven’t been here since I was a teenager. I don’t know how recently my father has been here, though. We have staff that upkeep our vacation homes. So, the house will be clean and stocked with some non-perishable food, plain clothes, and other items of necessity. Maybe even phone chargers.”

She hadn’t fully realized it until now, but they would be staying together alone in this cabin for one, maybe even two nights together. They would be stuck in close proximity for far longer than she ever considered.

“How many rooms are there?” She blurted out, louder and more rapidly than her usual speech pattern, making Victor turn to look at her with a start.

His right brow perked up. It was the most emotion she had seen him express openly since they got into the car. “How many rooms, specifically, are in the entire house? Is that what you are asking?” His deep voice boomed.

“Like, bedrooms, where will we- I be sleeping? I can sleep on the couch if there is only one room. I don’t mind.” She rambled, twisting a piece of hair into a tight coil around her finger.

Victor finally cracked a smile sending a wave of what felt like relief over her. However, that didn’t seem to make sense. Had she been tense this whole time while he remained straight-faced? He looked younger, brighter even as a cut-off chuckle escaped his lips.

“Three bedrooms, two baths. Happy?” His shift in demeanor suddenly reminded her of a cat toying confidently with its prey.

Her shoulders fell, but her face heated with embarrassment from her little outburst. “Ecstatic,” She murmured toward the passenger side window.

She physically relaxed, knowing there would be a separate space for her to die of embarrassment in peace. Victor’s presence in the car was looming enough to make her feel as if she needed to hunch over. Even when quiet, Victor knew how to command a room with body language alone. The little she knew about him, the more she wanted to build her own wall up. She didn’t know what he was like and wasn’t sure if it would be safe to know. Despite his large and in charge presence, she sat straight as a board. Chin up and gaze high, she felt as if she beat her own nerves in a battle of strength.

She pondered on how, as one of the most powerful men in the world, Victor could be one of so many things. Some of those things could be highly unpleasant, but he hardly seemed the type to be truly villainous. Victor drove her with him to the airport when all the taxis refused to go due to the blizzard. Why was that? What did the CEO of LFG want with one of its lowly employees? They weren’t even in the same league, hell they weren’t even on the same planet in her mind.

She had to admit it, though, he piqued her curiosity on a regular basis. What if she just got to know a small bit of what he was about? She could ask questions later when they had nothing to do but sit around waiting for their phones to charge. Maybe she would find out something she hated about him and use that as fuel to end this hold he had on her.

“How long is this road…” She questioned, exasperated by the unseen bumpiness of the trail. The white powder blanketed the gravel, making the seemingly smooth ride extra jumpy. She tried not to sound like a spoiled child, but the hours in the car had drained her entirely.

“It’s about a mile. The lake is a mile and a half from the main road.” He answered calmly, keeping his alert eyes glued on the road.

“A lake? So this is a lake house? How cool! I wonder if we can see any fishes!” She clasped her hands together in excitement. The only memory she had of a lake was when she was a child, and her father took her fishing with tiny weenie pieces. It worked, reeling in some massive catfish and a few other varieties. She was too young to remember where this lake was located, but the memory of her dad tossing her fish back after they were caught was burned into her mind.

“I doubt we would be able to see them this time of year. If I recall correctly, the lake should be frozen over by now. The fish will be deep down, most likely hibernating.” He adjusted his seating and clicked the windshield wipers on full blast. He peered over the dash, looking out the window as they slowly descended the road. “Also, It wouldn’t be smart taking a stroll outside in this weather.” She noticed the quick glance he made in her direction as she rubbed her hands together. The heater blew full blast, but it was fighting an unwinnable battle. The cold air outside was indeed bone-chilling and unbeatable in its frigidness. The heater helped little if any at all.

“Fair enough.” She sunk back into the chair, dejected. She wanted to add that he would have to bring her here in the summer when the fish were lively, and the weather was more pleasant, but that felt inappropriate to ask that of someone she hardly knew.

This little detour seemed bleak compared to her prior plans. A fun New Year party was to be held at her studio apartment, full of her close friends and plenty of champagne. They even decorated her house before her trip because they were so excited. Instead, she will be cracking open a water bottle with the CEO of being bossy and going to bed early since there was absolutely nothing to do without her laptop. The temperature is most definitely going to drop at night, and being huddled in many blankets seemed more appealing than staying up without one.

She hadn’t noticed the corner of the house come into view due to the thick snowfall. Slivers of red-painted exterior began to peak out from a white curtain once Victor drew the car closer. She couldn’t see how big the place was, or what its orientation was to the lakeside, but knew there was definitely an abode there for them to seek shelter.

Once parked, the two quickly gathered their things before Victor turned off the vehicle. They donned their scarfs and gloves in order to make the small trek. He directed her towards the front down through the heavy snow with a loud shout. Thanks to the storm, the car was out of view by the time they made it to the porch. Victor used his foot to sweep off the three steps to the door before she made the small journey herself.

“Thanks,” She mumbled, looking away from him.

“I just don’t want you to fall. The last thing we need is a medical emergency in this weather.” He assured her, flipping open the box the handle and using the number pad on the doorknob to unlock it. “Or you sitting around here with a black eye, wearing the badge of your clumsiness for all to see.”

“Gee, thanks,” She puffed sarcastically, holding the corners of her lips in place. It was difficult to stave off her emotions, and her face muscles twitched against her will. In the end, a small smile splayed on her face. It didn’t seem as if he were treating her like a child, only that of a women he looked after. Maybe for someone he hated he wouldn’t have wiped the snow away, maybe.

Both of them poured inside, and Victor quickly shut the door behind them. Sprinkles of snow scattered around them on the navy carpet. They both caught their breath, finally in stagnant air. Somehow the inside of the house felt colder than the outside, and soon she was chilled to the bone.

“I’m uh,” Victor quickly rubbed his gloved hands together and looked around the unfamiliar space. He brushed the snow off his shoulders and thick coat. Taking one glove off, he ran his fingers through his hair and dislodged puffs of ice. “I’m going to turn on the heater and start a fire in the living room. Pick whatever bedroom you want and settle in. It should be getting warmer in here soon.”

He slowly nodded to her, silently asking if she understood. He huffed air as his lungs struggled to process the chilly air into usable oxygen. His cheeks were flushed several shades of pink from the temperature as he continued to suck in deep breaths.

“Sounds good to me, thank you.” She pulled the handle of her bag and rolled it through the living room. She tried to keep the shivering to a minimum, not wanting to worry Victor. A single crease appeared on his forehead that she’d yet to see before. It seemed to be the first sign of worry, the first one she’d noticed at least.

The smell of the old cabin began to replace the scent of Victor’s cologne that had permeated the car for the past several hours. She was almost sad to be rid of that unique smell but tried to put that ridiculous thought out of her mind. She was free to put a door between herself and her boss, the barrier she imagined the whole car ride. Willing herself to be happy about that, she pushed her heels to move faster toward the row of bedrooms.

Victor left his luggage at the front door and bolted to the den. She presumed the heater dial was in that room. He’d been here before many many years ago, but evidently still remembered the basic layout of the place. She also trusted him, whether she admitted it or not, to be able to figure it out on his own.

She pushed open a door, hearing the hinges squeak as she revealed the space. A large bed fully stocked with tons of decorative pillows, plush blankets, and a sizable frilly canopy came into view. The moment struck her as creepy since the room occupied no one for who knows how long. When was the last time this bed was properly slept in? Months? Years even? She looked around the hallway but decided she would take the first room she saw. Most of the other rooms were sure to feel just as stark as this one despite the furnishings. It wasn’t dusty either, which added to the strange vibe.

Remembering her circumstances, she quickly shut the door behind her. Her heart raced as she put her back against the solid wood. It was true, she was alone with Victor in this small cabin for the night. His proximity in the car had been bearable, but his closeness in this cabin seems far more intimate.

She took off her boots and exchanged them for an extra pair of fuzzy socks. Her fashion-forward coat was swapped for a more comfortable plush hoodie. She took down her hair and brushed out the curls, letting her soft strands frame her face.

She sat her luggage on the bed and placed her items around it to find what she needed easily. She lit a large candle that was atop the vanity with a lighter located in the drawer below. The label said it was supposed to be vanilla, but it was so old it didn’t seem to have a fragrance anymore. It was no matter to her. The gentle warm flame gave the room a breath of life. The longer the candle burned, and her stuff filled the room, the less odd the space felt. The vibe became that of a luxury hotel room, one that she wouldn’t be able to afford in a million years.

Soon, a hum came over the space, and the scent of burning dust began to fill the room from the overhead vents. Victor finally got the heater to work in the cabin. It brought about memories of the first cold snap every year, always after what seemed to be a long grueling summer. Turning on the heater for the first time still induced a harsh smell at first, but soon the heat would encompass the house and make the space more bearable and relaxing.

In the mirror, she touched her finger to her lips and felt how dry they were. The tip of her nose and cheeks were also a deep shade of red. She hurriedly took out her chapstick and lotion from her bag, then smoothed it over her parched skin. She hoped Victor didn’t think anything of it when she saw him. She wasn’t trying to dress up for him, just making sure her dry skin was quenched. Her racing heart distracted her momentarily. It was hard to tell who she was trying to convince with that notion.

A knock on the door made her jump. She became so comfortable with her new warmer surroundings that she forgot she wasn’t truly alone.

“Yes?” She called out while she sat at the vanity, holding her plush sweater closed over her chest.

“The fireplace is lit.” His voice began, muffled from the thick wood. “I’m going to start making food in a bit. It’s almost eight. We can eat and try to get some sleep-” Victor stopped speaking when she opened the door.

She looked up at him as he stood straighter. Clearing his throat, he took a step back from her and continued in a quieter voice. “Once we wake up in the morning, I will check the weather and make sure the roads are cleared, and flights are back on so we can leave.”

“Sounds like a good plan. Are there any chargers in this place? My phone is as good as a brick.” She pulled the device out of her pocket and clicked the power button. Nothing happened, and she sighed longingly.

“There are some chargers in the bedside table. Feel free to… make yourself at home.” They exchanged a silent look before he turned around to walk away. “Dinner will be ready soon. Settle in but meet me in the kitchen at eight sharp. All we have are things in cans, so no complaining.”

Once he was out of view, she rushed back into the room to the bedside table. The drawer was full of different items, an eye mask, earplugs, tissues, old-style headphones, and a small black charger. “Ah, ha!” She exclaimed, pulling the cord out of the drawer. She found a nearby plug and pushed it into the wall. She then pulled the other end to her and stopped dead in her tracks. “Uh oh…”

The charger was the old model style. Their phones had been upgraded many times over the years, and this charger was obsolete. She dropped the cord and left the bedroom with haste.

“Victor!” She shouted into the unfamiliar house. Her chest began to tighten as her feet moved through the house without much thought.

She heard a clunk coming from the kitchen area and rushed into the room.

“Yes?” His urgent voice was laced with a hint of annoyance as if he didn’t want to sound too invested in whatever she was panicking about.

“The chargers are duds! They don’t work with our newer phones!” She could feel panic begin to rise in her chest. “Are there any more? Should I check the other rooms?!” Words spilled out past her lips with rapid speed.

“Relax. Everything is going to be fine as long as you don’t freak out unnecessarily.” He set down the bowl he was messing with and walked to her. He took a pointed pause and looked down at her hand, where she held the dead phone. “We will think of something, okay? Once the storm passes, we have a means to get out of here. We’re not stuck.”

“We’re not stuck.” She repeated, counting her breaths. “We’re not stuck.”

“We are not stuck,” Victor added matter-of-factly in a deeper tone.

“We are definitely not stuck here.” She stated again, counting to 10 on her next breath.

“Go sit in front of the fireplace for a while; it feels nice.” Victor gestured toward the den. “Pull a book off the shelf and see if you can distract yourself for a while.” He didn’t come off as rude or commanding, only cool-headed. He sounded like the only sane person for miles.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Books never failed to calm her, no matter the context. If it were a boring book, it would bore her to sleep, and she would have no worries for a time. If it had action, it would keep her glued to the pages to see what happened next, keeping her mind from thinking about her current struggles. Books were always a win.

Walking to the living room in a daze, she heard Victor opening and closing drawers once more. She planted her feet, one after another toward the living area. It took all her resolve to not take off in a full sprint out the front door. She wanted to get away, get far far away from this crazy scenario. The familiar mild scent of singed dust that accompanied the heater became even more faint as she entered the living room.

The fire gently crackled and popped, illuminating the space around it with a gentle glow. The scent of cinder hit her nose, and her shoulders immediately relaxed. A smile touched her lips when she saw the massive bookshelf. The sight of the variety alone put her at ease. Fiction, non-fiction, even an arts and craft book poked out among the leather-bound classics.

She tried to think of this as an impromptu vacation and not an emergency stay. They were in no immediate danger, and she could rest easy knowing she had food and a place to sleep tonight.

Several minutes went by as she sat cross-legged on the couch, a blanket over her legs, and a book in her lap. The light smell of chicken mixed with the charred embers in the room made her stomach let out a tiny cry. The clock on the mantel showed it wasn’t quite eight yet, so she settled back against the couch and engrossed herself once more in the action book.

Several moments passed as she became invested in her storybook before she heard footsteps.

“Come to the kitchen.” Victor walked into the room and looked at the state she was in.

She was slumped against the armrest while pillows surrounded her legs. She felt for a moment as if she were caught red-handed doing something she wasn’t supposed to. However, she chalked the feeling up to being in only professional settings with Victor all this time until now. He’d never seen her properly sprawled out in full-on relax mode.

“Is the food ready?” She asked, slowly slipping her feet to the plush carpet below. Her socks kept her toes warm outside of the throw blanket.

“Yes.” Was all he said. Victor looked her over thoughtfully before tearing his eyes away and leaving the room.

She padded after him towards the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. Her vision filled with a fully stocked plate in front of her. Many different types of sides arranged meticulously in a circle atop very old glass plates surprised her. Almost none of the items went together, chicken salad, stewed carrots, and cranberry sauce littered the plate with other various creations.

“Are you hungry?” He tapped his fingers on the table, teasing that he was not amused with her just standing there. “Sit,” He gestured to the seat in front of him. “Eat up. The food will get cold.”

Her eyes stayed on the plate as she circled the kitchen and made her way to the table.

“I’m curious,” She stared, chair legs scraping the floor. “How did you manage something so delicious looking with only having non-perishables at your disposal?”

“Does it matter?” His forehead pinched. “It’s a warm meal. Eat up, and don’t complain how it got here.”

“I wasn’t complaining. I-”

“You haven’t eaten since breakfast. You need the nutrients and fuel. Plus, you can sleep easier tonight with a full stomach.”

This was true. She hadn’t eaten since she left for the airport. She figured once she got to her gate, she would grab a burrito and smoothie from the nearest restaurant and pack it away with her on the plane. However, she never made it to the airport and missed lunch entirely.

“Well, Thank you.” She spoke before stuffing a fork full of food into her mouth.

Victor met her eyes and nodded slightly. They ate their meal in silence until the very last bite. The only sounds for minutes were silverware hitting the plate and the wind outside gushing past the window in spurts. He looked amused as she tried to scrape the last little bit of sauce off the plate with her fork.

“Why don’t you just lick the plate already?” He smiled smugly and took his plate to the sink.

“I almost want to.” She teased back. “This was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

He looked out the window at the night sky while flurries of snow lazily fell to the ground. “Don’t mention it. Now go to bed.”

“Already?!” She protested. “I just ate, I need a second to process it before I lay down. I-I could get heartburn!”

He cut his eyes at her as he left the room. He turned his head away the second before She thought she could see a smile. “Have it your way. It’s late, and I have nothing to do. I will tend to the fireplace then I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Oh… goodnight.” She murmured as he left the threshold.

The door at the far end of the hall clicked shut, and she sat in silence for a long moment. The heater hummed warm air into the room while she sat with her own thoughts. She didn’t know how late it was since her phone was dead and the clock on the wall’s batteries died long ago. The hands were stuck at 12:06 for who knows how long. She’d have to check the clock in the living room if she cared to know.

She sighed and took her plate to the sink. She washed both dishes and watched out the kitchen window. It sure was boring without anything to catch up on or watch. A yawn grew on her lips, and she decided that sleep was probably the best option. Once she awoke, it would be a new day, and they could get out of here.

Switching off the lights in the kitchen and living room, she made her way to the bedroom. Her mind moved to the fabulous meal Victor had made and wondered what else he was good at. He seemed to be the best at anything he tried, and it made her slightly impressed but also mildly annoyed. She thought that no one should have that much power, to be good at all things they put their mind too.

As she shut the heavy oak door, the pipes in the walls whistled and hissed, indicating the use of running water. The realization he was taking a shower dawned on her. The thought alone caused heat to touch the tips of her cheeks. It was a stark contrast to the cold sensation she’d been feeling all day, almost like a relief from the cold. The awareness only grew as she changed into her nightclothes and realized she ought to shower too. He was probably using up all the hot water, but a bath might actually be just the stuff to help ease her chilled bones to sleep.

She gathered her soaps and nightclothes and entered the bathroom that was joined to the bedroom. The small room quickly populated with swirly steam as she filled the large garden tub with piping hot water. The lavender bubble bath she found beneath the sink proved to make the most enormous bath bubbles she had ever seen.

Foam rose over the surface of the water while she immersed her body beneath the heat. Her muscles quickly released tension with every inch she slipped beneath the silky smooth water. The ends of her hair dipped in the lavender-scented liquid while fizzing bubbles formed promptly at her feet.

She used her big toe to turn off the running water when the tub was filled to the brim. She then sat there motionless, listening to the bubbles fizz and pop as they died out one by one. As she closed her eyes, her mind immediately went to Victor’s face. She opened her lids to see a blank wall and to shake her head of his image.

The last thing she needed was to read into this situation with him and hope for an outcome that would never happen. After all these months of working directly for him, Victor never once dropped a bone for her to pick up. He was a busy man, too busy for anything frivolous like dating. Especially busy for any mindless chatter. Today was the most she’d ever spoken to him about things that didn’t concern work. It was slightly refreshing to hear his words not carry so much weight. However, she did miss the routine of their conversations.

He would present her with a problem and ask her to take it to her department. She would then hold a meeting to brainstorm the issue and find a solution. After that, her next words to him were in another meeting. She’d stand in front of all the other leaders and recall their solution via PowerPoint or bar graph. Victor would have some questions and always seemed invested in her work, but not too much where she thought he might actually care about her specifically. No, he cared about how the department was flourishing and how it benefited his company.

She sighed, and the bubbles on her chest went flying with the gust. Foam coated the wall and slid down the edge of the tub to the floor. As she sat silently, she heard the pipes shut off. Victor had turned off the water to his shower.

Gulping, she looked away from the wall, trying not to think of his current state. While working so hard not to think of it, the curiosity only grew. What did his broad shoulders look like below that tailored suit? Was his black hair somehow darker while soaking wet? Was Victor the kind of guy to dry his body first or his hair?

Her foot slipped off the edge of the tub and splashed water all over the bathroom floor. Her face was hot, and warm water helped droplets of sweat start to bead along her forehead. This was the first time she’d felt truly warm in weeks thanks to the relentless snow in the forecast.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she decidedly ignored the inner heat blooming. In another life, so many possibilities could happen here in the cabin alone with Victor. So many things that were beyond the realm of what she knew to be possible in her life. He wasn’t the type to go against his own rules and date someone from work. And he definitely wasn’t the type to go after someone with a low status such as herself.

She was sure Victor had his pick of any model or actress that strutted the earth. He was on the tip of everyone’s tongue year-round when the tabloids spoke of eligible bachelors. It’s not like she ever read any of them, but they were always there next to the checkout lanes at her local grocery store. Curiosity sometimes got the better of her, and she would take a peek, but only a quick one.

She twisted in the tub, realizing the water was cooling at an increasingly rapid rate thanks to the dropping temperatures outside. In a flash, she washed up quickly and hopped out to cover her chilled skin with a soft towel. She wiped her face dry and stared at her silhouette in the fogged mirror. What if Victor was staring at his mirror just the same? What if they were looking right at one another from separate rooms? What if a man like that craved a woman like her…? What if…

Annoyed by her crush and ridiculous fantasies, she left for her room. She layered a fresh set of pajamas with an extra sweatshirt and two pairs of thick socks. She lay in the darkroom, staring up at the canopy that covered the bed, and sighed. She was hopelessly into Victor, and she wished with all her heart she wouldn’t be.

They both went on a group business trip to the same city, taking a four-hour plane ride to get here. However, the group that went with them were smart and ended up leaving early before the storm hit. Victor had to stay due to a few extra meetings his secretary set up for him on short notice. She stayed for the meetings pertaining to LFG itself to be up to date on the latest information. Ah, what was she kidding? She remained so she could stare at Victor from the corner of her eye for just a few more hours. She had no idea what the meetings were about even. All her notes were scribbles, making it look like she was paying attention. That plan to watch him just a tad longer had either severely backfired, or went better than she could have ever imagined.

Unable to sleep, she kept her eyes upward while her mind roamed wildly. Se soon noticed that she could suddenly see her own breath in the room. The old heater couldn’t keep up with the outsides dropping temperature. Thick clothes and two plush comforters still left her shivering, cold to the bone. She wondered if she should lay her head away from the window and try to sleep that way, but then her feet would be the ones freezing.

She tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to sleep due to the intense cold. She shivered until her teeth chattering made her jaw sore. It was a moot point to try to get any kind of sleep like this. It was decided that she would hunt for more blankets, maybe even see if they had any electric blankets stowed away somewhere.

With her hood up, she marched down the dark hall with a blanket over her shoulders. She padded atop the carpet toward the end of the hall. There was a skinnier door, and she assumed the owners might have stored extra items in there.

As soon as she opened the door, a pillow leaped off the shelf. “Ah!” She moved to the side and let it fall while ruffling through the shelves. Sheet, sheet, pillowcase… she pushed items aside. The closet was overstuffed with linens of all types. She jumped toward the top shelf and yanked down on the article above.

Another couple of pillows toppled over and landed on her head. “Oof!” She exclaimed, voice muffled by the dense feather pillow.

“It’s two am.” She heard a sudden voice boom from the other side of the hall.

“Oh!” She yelped, losing her balance. She hadn’t even heard his door open in all the commotion. “Ah-ha… I was just looking…” She tried to stuff the half pulled out blanket back into the storage closet and put her hands behind her back. “Sorry if I was loud.” She looked down at her feet briefly.

“What are you doing out here?” He walked toward the mess of bedding littered around her.

His night outfit made her gawk. She’d never seen Victor wearing such a casual outfit. An over-sized dark blue sweater with black sweatpants and bright white socks. He ruffled his fluffier than usual hair. It looked soft but not as sleek as his conventional hair products made it seem. He almost looked boyish and the adventurous type. Victor resembled the guy next door that would come over to fix your sink when it broke or ask for a cup of milk he’d forgotten he’d needed in a recipe he was making. Almost. Despite his modern casual look, she knew better. She was more familiar with what power he held than most of the public.

“I was trying to get another blanket. It’s so cold I can’t even fall asleep…” She pushed up on her tippy toes and put her foot flat back on the ground, rocking on her heels. “So uh, the solution was to look in this hall closet.”

Victor nodded slowly. Soft, weary eyes assessing the situation. “I see.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She looked at the mess on the floor. “And I’ll clean this up.”

With pinched lips, Victor walked over to her. Abruptly looming in her space, she held her breath. Victor reached up above her and pulled the blanket she’d already dislodged down with ease. He handed it to her and placed his hand on his hip.

“You didn’t wake me. I am also having trouble sleeping in the cold. I have the heater going as high as it’ll go.” He looked off toward a nearby window and then back to her. “It seems to be dropping well below the negatives outside.” He scratched his head thoughtfully.

“I did hear the weatherman say that was a possibility.” She balled the blanket up in her arms and stepped out of the mess she made.

“Well-

“If-”

They spoke at the same time, then swiftly stopped simultaneously. She chewed her bottom lip with watchful eyes, and Victor knitted his brows and crossed his arms.

“Go ahead,”

“No, you, uh, go first…” She took a deep breath of the chilled air around her. The house was quiet despite their audible breathing and the sound of the heater blowing above them in vain.

“Dummy, ladies first.” He quipped, taking a more dominating stance before her.

Breathing in a sharp inhale, she put her foot down. “I was just going to say, goodnight? Uh, see you tomorrow.”

“You think adding one more measly blanket is going to keep you warm enough to sleep?” He sounded indignant, giving her a side-eye with a hint attitude.

“I was hoping it would.”

He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Okay,” She pressed on. “Do you have another solution?”

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, tasting them thoroughly on his tongue before he laced them together into a verbal thought. Victor looked her in the eye for a long consuming moment. She was captivated by his intensity, keeping her lungs from filling completely with each cool gasp.

His gaze abruptly moved away, almost bashfully she noted, and she was finally able to breathe easy again. She thanked her lucky stars he broke eye contact first. It was like staring down a wild dog, and the first one to move was the weakest link. She had no fear of Victor, only immense curiosity and respect for what he did.

He clicked his tongue, and his velvety voice broke the silence. “I can stoke the fireplace and get it going again.”

“Okay? And then what? Toss ourselves into it to stay warm?”

“Don’t try to be funny.” He narrowed his steely eyes. It seemed difficult for him to articulate what he wanted outright.

“So we warm-up and then try to go back to bed?” She wove the blanket around her arms tighter. She wondered, idly, why she felt so incredibly small at that moment.

Victor perked up like he had it all planned out suddenly. “Grab as many blankets as you can, and I will do the same. We will take them to the living room and see if that is any warmer.”

She gulped audibly. “Alright, I will grab my pillows too. If this is the only way to get warm, then it’s what we have to do.”

“It is. Now go get your stuff and hurry to the living room.”

Thank you for reading! This was supposed to be a oneshot but I kept sitting on it and adding to it and... well now its over 10k words long. So I had to split it up into a few chapters. I hope you enjoyed this!

Rating notice, based on how the story unfolds I may up the rating. Not sure how the story will go entirely yet but I will let it flow naturally and not force anything <3

Masterlist is at the top of my blog~

#mlqc #mlqc victor #victor x mc #mr love: queen's choice #mr love queen's choice

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lifeinahole27 · 4 years

Text

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 6/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: Maybe some strong language. Attempts at sexual situations. I did mention this was a slow burn, right? Like. Super slow burn.

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 6: Softening the Edges

November 2: Saturday

The last time Emma remembers going on a date, it was with Walsh - and while she has a feeling Killian would appreciate the LBD with a leather twist that she still owns, she’d rather not wear something that has a memory of that asshole attached.

All of the other dresses she owns are tight and short, which worked a lot better for picking up one-night-stands. None of those dresses are going to be the right ones, either, which is why they’re all still in the back of her closet.

Instead, she’s looking at the choices hanging in front of her that she unpacked while on the phone with Killian last night. One was an impulse buy from this past spring, and the other two are loaners from Ruby and Snow.

It’s noon, and there are hours to go before the date, but Emma wants this to be perfect so she diligently takes each dress off the hanger, slipping it on and assessing each option carefully before moving on to the next.

Her timer goes off, letting her know it’s time to retrieve her laundry. Normally, all she wants to do on a Saturday is lounge around, but nerves have her going strong right now. She also wants the loft to be spotless. Just in case she has a visitor tonight, but that’s not something she’s anticipating, so to speak, but it could be.

The way her stomach flips tells her exactly how big of a deal that actually feels like.

Instead of dwelling on the hopeful way he invited her in for hot chocolate on Halloween, Emma focuses on her tasks. She switches out the clothes before going back to try on the last two dresses.

It’s between a black one that Ruby lent her and a pink one she bought online, and it’s not until the latter is on her body that she decides it’s the one. It’s soft and almost fluid, and she takes a moment to turn back and forth to feel the skirts brush against her thighs. She stands in front of her mirror admiring the picture it all makes, so unlike how she dresses for work or even for a night on the town.

Off it goes and back on the hanger, and Emma makes sure to set out the rest of what she’ll wear, finding the perfect heels to go with it before heading downstairs to clean her bathroom.

She’s never been one for following a specific routine other than necessities, but Emma goes through her process later when she’s getting ready. It’s maybe the only time she cares about being orderly, stashing all her makeup back away when she’s finished with another whisper to herself that it’s better to be safe.

Killian texted and said he’d be there at six-thirty, and she’s just fixed the backing on her second earring when the knock comes.

Shaking out her hands one last time, Emma swings open the door for Killian, and immediately all thoughts simple and pure fly out the window.

Suits and ties, she’s used to. Even the waistcoats. But this look is somehow familiar yet completely new. No thoughts of offices and editors come to mind when she looks at the total picture that the black jeans and leather vest gives off. She's tempted to invite him in now, but she’s hungry and has no intention of turning Killian into one of her really bad statistics.

Killian, meanwhile, has a look on his face that she’ll be replaying for as long as she lives. His eyes scan her from top to bottom, not in a sexual way but in stunned surprise. And yeah, because he’s used to seeing her in jeans and a leather jacket, she doesn’t blame him for the expression on his face. He finally picks his jaw up off the floor and looks her in the eye again.

“You look stunning, Swan,” he says, the words slow to come out as he takes in her appearance. Good to know she’s knocked him off balance, as well.

“You look…” she trails off, not even knowing how to sum it up, but he saves her the trouble.

“I know,” he says, a little smug but mostly matter-of-fact.

Her laugh is a quick exhalation, her lips turning up into a smirk before he holds out a single rose for her. It’s a small gesture, but it’s still better than any other man has done for her on a first date. Really, on any dates at all.

“Let me pop this in water and we’ll go,” she tells him, moving quickly to the kitchen to find a vase.

It’s only once outside that she realizes just how cold it is, and she’s glad she wore her wool coat but momentarily regrets the lack of hat. It would’ve ruined her hair but at least her ears would be warm.

“I hope you weren’t lying about trusting me,” Killian says as he guides her to an SUV that’s idling against the curb.

“What’s this?”

“Robin let me borrow his vehicle for the evening. He’s been helping me get used to American driving. Might be a different side of the road but I think we’ll be all right.” He opens the door for her and waits until she’s settled before closing it again. When he climbs in and closes his own door he turns to her for a moment. “I also hope a diligent law officer can turn a blind eye for the sake of a date, since I haven’t gotten my license just yet.”

“Knew there had to be a catch,” she jokes, patting his arm comfortingly. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

It’s been years since she’s gone to Tony’s, and never has it been with a man she was seeing. The last time she was here, it was with Ruby and Snow because they wanted to dress up and feel fancy for a night while also consuming their combined weight in pasta.

Killian hastens to pull out her chair for her, smiling as he shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over the back of his chair before settling in across from her.

“No sad back stories,” Emma says as soon as their waiter walks away. “No prior relationships. Anything else is fair game.”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Not really. I like you. And I’m scared and excited to be on a date again for the first time in a very long time. And I don’t want to fuck that up by rambling about how shit my luck was before I made it to where I am now.” It takes a lot of effort not to wring her hands together, even as they’re sitting in her lap. No nerves, no tension. Just enjoy a date.

“Fair point. First, let me ask your favorite type of wine,” he says, handing her the menu to consider.

“Most reds, but not tonight.”

“Afraid you’ll find me even more irresistible?” he asks, leaning back and doing something sinful with his eyebrows when he looks at her. He’s tempting… so very tempting.

“No,” she says after a moment to collect herself. “I like first dates. And I’d rather not be all cloudy by the time my dinner arrives.”

His smile turns to something pure and happy. “No wine, then.” He waits until the waiter has taken their orders before speaking again. “What’s your favorite thing about Storybrooke?”

“That we have actual seasons here. Not like in Florida where it was just hot and humid until it wasn’t, with a smattering of hurricanes.”

“Or England where there’s maybe forty-five days when the sun shines.”

“You get the point on that one,” Emma tells him. “Why did you decide to move here?”

There’s a few emotions that cross Killian’s face all at once, and she knows without needing the explanation. Will did say it was a story for the man himself. “Okay, we’ll save that for another time, too.”

“I was genuinely surprised that a publishing company wanted to set up an office here in Storybrooke,” Emma says, realizing she’s never asked why.

“Robin prefers forests of trees over concrete jungles,” Killian explains. “There is a central office with a lot more people in New York City, but he only goes down when he has to and we utilize a lot of video conferences for everything else.”

“That’s a lot of distance for just some editing and such, isn’t it?”

“It’s more than just that, love. Robin’s looking to start up workshops and clinics for his signed authors. He’s been hosting a fellowship for new authors for a week at a time at a cabin he owns up on the edge of the town as well. If you ask him, this place has a natural fount of creative powers just waiting to be tapped into. That’s kind of how Henry happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was on vacation about a year ago with his parents… well, foster parents. They said as soon as he sat down in the room that he whipped out his pen and paper. By the time they got back from going to grab dinner downstairs at Granny’s, he had just about finished the first chapter. Worked out a deal to buy him a laptop for some chores.”

“That’s amazing. Do they come with him for his meetings with you?”

“Well,” Killian starts, and his face falls. Before the words are out of his mouth, she knows what he’s going to say. “He’s not with that family anymore. That couple did everything they could to try to make up for the fact that they had to move and not take him with them, so he has his own laptop, we communicate with him via an iPod, and he has a suitcase that he protects with his life. But his current situation is... not as ideal.”

Emma swallows hard, a bubble of emotion getting lodged in her throat. “I can imagine how much that must hurt for him.”

“He’s been in higher spirits since his new foster parents started letting him travel on his own. He’s just turned sixteen and he’s fiercely independent, so he loves to take the train from Portland by himself and make his way up the coast for a weekend, even if it’s just a few hours away.”

“Sometimes even just a few hours can feel like a whole different country.”

“I gather you’ve lived in a few places if that’s the way you feel.”

“I didn’t really live in Boston. But sometimes going down there to visit was like going to the far reaches of the Earth. Tallahassee was too far, when it came down to it, so I’ve mostly lived here in Storybrooke with a few exceptions.”

“Where you’ve followed the family business to be a police officer.”

“Correct. Have a shiny degree with my name on it and everything. It’s just from an online degree program, but…”

She’s surprised when Killian reaches across the table to touch her hand. “Online degrees are just as valid and important as ones earned in person at a university.”

There’s something about the way he says it - Emma is positive that he’s giving the affirmation to both of them - but she pushes past wanting to ask him about it and instead flips her hand around to briefly link her fingers with his. “You’re right. They are. And I’m proud of mine.”

“But you refuse to wear a uniform?”

The urge to shudder crawls up her spine but she controls that, as well. “Hate the things. Way too unflattering, way too uncomfortable. Besides, David decided we didn’t really need them since it’s such a small department. As long as we don’t come in wearing sweatpants, he’s okay with it.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, almost immediately. “There was a time when I was younger that I was sure I wouldn’t, but I do now. By the way, Regina approved our budget for upgrades. I’m sitting down on Monday and just going to town online shopping for all the things we need. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to get everything we want and still have some left over.”

“That’s fantastic,” he exclaims, looking genuinely happy for her. She’s so unused to this kind of support and attention, but she’s certainly not going to complain.

When their food arrives, they slow down a little bit but not by much. Back and forth they ask and answer, between bites of food and avoidance of the hard stuff - both in liquor and life experiences. There’s plenty to be talked about there: Emma has a metric ton of shit in her history and she knows she’ll have to talk about it eventually, but eventually isn’t today. By the time they’ve ordered dessert, she’s more relaxed than she’s ever felt on a date before. They only ordered one of the delectable selections, something that’s ice cream and delicious and not the standard tiramisu. As the check arrives, Killian reaches for his wallet and Emma grabs for her purse. At that, his eyebrow pops up.

“I’ve never been on a date with a woman who pulled out her wallet at the end,” he admits. “Would you prefer to split or would it be okay if I paid for the both of us?”

“I’ve never been on a date with a man who asked,” Emma says, gesturing for him to go on as she tucks her handbag away again. “Did you have a choice to work in NYC when you moved here?” Even though they talked about the Storybrooke location earlier, she realizes she never asked him that.

“No. Robin specifically hired me to be a junior editor in this office.”

“Would you have preferred to work there instead of here?”

“Not at all,” Killian says without even a second of hesitation. The quickness surprises her, just like so much constantly does with him. “I was working in London and living right on the outskirts of the city when I applied for this position. I’d had enough of bustling and tourism and noise. When Robin told me I’d be moving to a town in Maine that had a population of less than ten thousand, it felt like the right move. And now that I’m settling in, I know I’ve made the right choice.”

“I may be biased, but I think you did, too.”

With the bill all settled, they exit the restaurant into the cool night air, with Emma’s hand tangled with Killian’s. She noticed that the patrons all glanced as they came and went, but Emma hopes that she and Killian are yesterday’s news before too long. It’s probably the only downside to this small town that they all feel the need to gossip like wildfire.

He opens the car door for her again, letting his fingers trail across hers as he releases her hand and sends little shocks of heat along her skin.

Killian walks her all the way to her door, his thumb gently rubbing against hers as they climb the stairs. She turns when they get to her door, slipping a little bit into his personal space.

“Well, not bad,” she says, reaching down and taking his hand and hook in her hands. “You managed to make me forget that I’ve spent the last three days trying to get oil spots out of my jeans thanks to an unfortunate call to Billy’s shop the other day.”

“That’s an easy, three-step process if you’d like my assistance.”

“In that case, wanna come in for some coffee and stain removal?”

He hums, stepping forward so they’re toe-to-toe, their noses brushing as she’s just at the same height with her heels on. When he speaks, his breath tickles her lips and she frees up her hands in favor of running them up the lapels of his jacket to rest on his shoulders.

“Aye, but first, I’ve been waiting to do this all night,” he tells her, his voice low and husky and everything she wants to hear right now.

Then his lips are on hers and she’s perfectly fine with not hearing his voice because she’d rather be doing this anyway. Carefully, without breaking the kiss, she inches backwards until she can lean on the door, pulling Killian against her and letting all her thoughts leave for the moment. She doesn’t put out on the first date, but that doesn’t mean they can’t do anything else, right? His grip on her hip feels as tense as she is, and she finally stops so she can get her door unlocked.

When it swings open, however, her apartment isn’t dark and empty like she left it, and she jolts away from Killian in surprise at Snow propped on her breakfast bar and David standing behind her counter.

“Hey! We weren’t sure when… oh!”

Clearly, the other couple hadn’t expected Killian to still be attached to Emma when they hatched a plan to come see how it went instead of waiting until the next day. Emma glances at Killian to see the amused smile on his face. She also sees that this is where the train stops tonight, and she sighs.

“Give us a second,” Emma says to her family as she crowds Killian back into the hallway for some semblance of privacy; she knows how thin her door is. “Do you still want to come in and have coffee? Probably get the concerned-father speech from David?”

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait until next time for all of that,” he says, definitely not unkindly but there’s a hint of disappointment that this is where their evening ends, and she knows the feeling.

“Next time, huh? I don’t remember asking.”

“That’s because it’s my turn,” he tells her, his voice light and playful. Just as quickly, he gets a serious look in his eyes and she’s not sure a marching band coming out of her apartment would tear her attention away from him. “Will you go out with me again?”

His eyes are so sincere, his expression hopeful and patient and of course she’s going to go out with him again. She steps forward, deciding that actions are better than words right now, kissing him softly but solidly, making sure it teeters right on the edge of the heat they were producing just a few minutes ago.

She can’t get over the way he holds her, the way his arms come around her and mold her against his body. That paired with the way he kisses her back, the low rumble he makes when her hand comes up to brush against his cheek before sliding into his hair, she almost gets lost to the sensations all over again, Snow and David be damned.

With effort, Emma pulls back the tiniest bit, trying to catch her breath more at the way he leans his forehead against hers than the kiss itself at this point.

“Okay,” she breathes out. “Goodnight Killian.”

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice sounding equally unsteady.

She looks back at him one more time, biting her lower lip at the mirrored look on his face.

“I need to get the locks changed,” she mutters as she opens the door to her apartment again. “So, let’s talk about how you guys broke into my apartment tonight!”

-x-

Listening to Emma re-greet David and Snow makes Killian chuckle for a moment, and he takes a big breath as he settles his blood again. This woman is already so far under his skin that it’s hard to believe it’s only been a few months since they first spoke to one another.

He has Robin’s car until morning, so it’s a quick, warm drive home. When he steps inside, Killian closes the door and locks it behind him, turning on light after light as he walks through the rooms that he’s inhabited for almost five months. He’s restless, only because he’s already looking forward to the next moment he gets to see Emma, and as his eyes land on various boxes and empty corners, he decides to use this momentum to finish what he started the day before.

After changing out of his clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Killian retrieves his box cutter from the kitchen from his last unpacking adventure and starts with his office.

It’s more than past time for him to officially make this place his home.

-x- November 4: Monday

It takes effort for Killian to crawl out of bed on Monday. It’s probably the first time in as long as he can remember that he doesn’t bounce right out of bed as soon as his eyes are open. That excludes times he’s been sick, of course. He’s only human. But he’s not sick today. He’s tired. Downright exhausted, and with every right to be so. When he finally drags his eyes open, he looks around the room at all he accomplished. Gone are the barren walls and empty hangers. Every single piece of clothing he owns is now tidily put into its place. Trudging through his morning routine, Killian still manages to smile wide when he opens his closet to the wide array of clothes all readily available.

He’s nearly ready when he hears the horn outside, and he smiles with the knowledge that Emma is out there waiting for him. With careful movements, he pours the two mugs of coffee from his pot and rinses it out, making sure it’s turned off before heading out.

They’ve got a good deal starting, as far as he can tell. She brings the car, he brings the caffeine, and it’s almost as good as their walks.

He rushes to the car through the morning chill, happy to at least have his scarf and hat in place. She pushes the door open from her side when she sees he’s laden with coffee mugs pressed against his chest with the help of his left arm.

“Hi! You found some winter weather gear!”

“Aye, finally got around to a lot of things I’ve been meaning to work on,” he tells her as he settles in, shutting the door firmly against a cold blast of wind. “Brought you coffee.”

“Thanks,” she says, grabbing the mug from him and taking a sip. She reaches over, almost without thought and squeezes his wrist to emphasize her words.

Their banter on the way to his office is as it always is, but when she stops in front of NeverEndings, there’s care in the way she leans towards him. He meets her halfway, sighing into the simplicity of the kiss and wishing he could dawdle and kiss her in her car all day.

“I have my lunch hour totally free today,” she tells him when they finally do part. “Want me to swing by?”

“I have a meeting with Henry this morning. I’m not quite sure how long it’ll go, but stop in and we’ll see?”

She smiles and nods, waving once as he climbs from the car and shuts the door.

By the time Emma shows up at noon, he very clearly needs the respite. Henry is looking similarly worn down, obvious by the way the teenager is slumped in his chair, fiddling with a fidget cube that Killian keeps by his monitor for moments of extreme stress. That’s how Emma finds them, with Killian fighting off a yawn as he stares at his computer screen and Henry teetering on death by boredom.

“Whoa. Are you guys working or just slowly melting into your seats here?”

“I’m melting,” Henry says without moving anything that isn’t absolutely necessary.

“I’m working,” Killian adds, sitting up and stretching his neck to release the knots that are dying to form along his spine. “Darling, I’ve got just three more pages left on these edits. I’m so sorry. Would you like to stick around until we’ve finished?”

“Are you his girlfriend?”

Killian sputters for a second, unsure of how to introduce them in this situation.

“I’m Emma,” she says, saving him from anything else. “So, Killian tells me you come up for vacations?” After shifting around a couple items, Emma makes herself comfortable by perching on the edge of the desk.

“I did, back when…” Henry trails off, and Killian can see from this angle that Emma’s face falls into something that borders on understanding. He knows that she was raised by David’s mother, but he also knows that she uses a different surname than the Nolan household, so maybe there’s a kinship that he wasn’t even anticipating between them.

As they get lost in conversation, Killian desperately wants to keep paying attention, to absorb in the information that she hasn’t yet divulged to him, but the edits call back to him and before he knows it, he’s lost to the words in front of him once more.

Far longer than he would’ve liked to spend on it, he’s finally at the end of the passage and he saves the file with a noise of victory.

“Alright, lad. We’ve got it. That’s the whole thing with edits and comments now done.”

“Really?”

“Aye. The next part is all up to you. We’ll get a look at your schedule and set up another meeting in the middle of the month if you think you can handle that.”

The boy scoffs, accepting the folder and thumb drive that Killian hands over to him. “I can practically make these changes with my eyes closed at this point.”

“Yeah, yeah. Safe travels back to the city.”

With a final wave, Henry exits his office and Killian slumps down in his chair, peering around his monitor as Emma relaxes back in the chair that Henry just vacated.

“Thanks for your patience, love. How’s your day going?”

“Better than yours, it seems. I texted Ruby and she’ll have lunch waiting for us. You ready?”

“Would you carry me there?”

Emma laughs, music to his ears, and he hauls himself from his chair, taking her hand when she offers it.

Killian’s own lunches don’t usually last very long, but he feels he’s earned the right to relax for a little bit since the first round of edits is officially done, and his “quick” morning meeting just went two hours over his proposed time slot for it.

It’s not the end of the job, of course. There will still be more edits after Henry comes back with his changes. But that’s in two weeks, and until that time, Killian can start worrying about everything else with the book.

Not only are there design aspects to be considered, but they’ll have the company Christmas party in New York next month, which will act as some kind of debut for Henry. It’s the one time every year that all the employees and authors come together. In England, they’ll be hosting their own version of the event, but over here, it’s a chance to celebrate the creativity that’s come out of the whole year and for Robin to announce everything they’ll look forward to in the one to come.

While he always has an outfit ready for the black tie event, he’ll also be in charge of making sure Henry is taken care of. He’ll have to ask the lad whether he has a suitable outfit. Despite being the editor for such young talent, Killian’s primary anxiety rests over getting everything done and in a timely fashion. He decided after their first meeting that Henry was more mature than a good deal of the grown men and women he’s worked with before, but in the eyes of the world, he’s still a child, and he wants them all to see Henry like he does.

After the party will be the actual book release, and the press for it. And then there’s the worry over its success or failure, of course...

“Hey, Killian.”

“Hmm?”

Emma pulls him down for a quick kiss right on the lips. “You’ve gotta let your brain rest for a couple minutes. Coffee?”

He looks around, having missed the whole walk over to Granny’s, apparently. He sighs, letting Emma lead them up the path to the diner. “Yes, that would be helpful.”

“I might be wrong, but I feel like you’re freaking out a little bit.”

“You’re not wrong,” he admits to her. “I just want everything to be perfect. He’s so talented, but he’s young. And one wrong step could mean the book goes nowhere.”

“I don’t think you’re going to let that happen,” she says as she sheds her coat and gloves, setting them on the seat on her side of the booth before she slides in.

Their food and drinks are placed in front of them almost as soon as they’re settled in, and Ruby gives them both a signature smile before she zips away from the table to tend to the rest of the lunch rush.

“Told you I gave her the heads up,” Emma says, smiling at him and nodding to his food. “Dig in. How long until you have to be back?”

“I have a meeting with Robin at 2:30 to go over our progress from today,” Killian tells her, glancing at his watch and seeing that Emma’s hour is already almost up. “You want to get a box for that?”

“Nah. I already texted David and told him I would be back later than usual.”

“You’re simply a marvel, Swan. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, smiling and propping her hand under her chin and getting comfortable with her hot chocolate, clearly settling in for some quality time.

-x-

It’s weird, Emma thinks, to be the source of comfort for someone. But judging by the way Killian relaxes almost as soon as she reassures him that he’s not going to fuck up is a pretty clear indication that he’s taken the words to heart. What’s weirder is that she likes the feeling, a lot, and wants to keep being able to do this for him whenever he needs it.

“Tell me something new today,” she urges, using the moment to take a bite of her food before he can turn it around on her. She watches carefully as he gulps, clearly already knowing what he wants to say but maybe afraid to speak the words.

“Promise you won’t let it scare you off?”

“I can try,” she says honestly, but there’s no fear sparking in her stomach, no panic in her lungs.

“Seeing you for the first time was the moment I finally felt like I was really here - that I’d really moved to a whole new country and started a brand new job. Your hair was down. It caught the sunlight first, and then your badge did. I couldn’t get over how you looked ethereal and yet so solidly real, and you were staring at me as if you were waiting for me.”

It’s her turn to swallow hard, hearing his admission, and knowing that the day he first saw her, she was waiting for him.

“Wow,” she finally manages. She picks at her forgotten food, the blush rising to her cheeks and the smile unable to be contained.

“I’ve been told I could write romance novels,” he says, and it’s the seriousness of his tone mixed with the smile in his eyes that finally makes Emma grin as it calms her nerves.

“I’d buy them,” she admits.

“I could write about a hapless Brit learning all about American culture from some blonde goddess in a red leather jacket.”

“And what adventures would they go on, Killian?”

“Epic battles, Swan. They couldn’t have just any boring old story. They would need action, fighting to find each other after being separated, and when it’s all said and done they would share True Love’s Kiss and she would turn him into a frog.” She is so obviously distracted by the way his hand has reached across the table and his fingers are rubbing over her knuckles, the deep timbre of his voice, that she almost misses the last part, but she hears it, and she chortles at the picture he’s painted.

She takes a deep breath, prepared to share something of her own. “I didn’t want to date you,” she admits. It’s like an anvil dropped in the middle of the table but if he just admitted all of that to her, maybe she can meet him halfway.

His face falls, and she hurries to continue.

“Not like that,” she says reassuringly, giving his hand a squeeze to emphasize. “I had this idea that you would just be this stranger I passed on the street every day and that would be enough. And then we started talking and I thought - okay, this is cool. We can be friends.” She laughs even thinking of it, at the sheer absurdity that she was so sure there would be nothing between them.

“You started it,” he says. “You kissed me first.”

“Yeah? So let’s talk about setting up that second date.”

“Well, I’ve finally finished moving into my flat, so I think it would be nice to have someone over to see it without towers of boxes invading each room.”

“I think that sounds like a good plan.”

There’s a thought that flashes through her mind that adds together one part Killian, one part dinner, one part alone, and it takes her a moment to pull her mind from the gutter once more. Especially when she thinks of how they were interrupted before he could come inside after their first date.

But more than for anything like that, Emma thinks about how nice it’ll be to have something closer to a quiet night - there won’t be any townspeople staring at them and taking notes to pass around to all their friends. No one will take notice of them leaving and speculate about what’s about to happen next. Plus, the idea of Killian cooking is quite appealing.

“Saturday?” she asks before they part ways after lunch is over.

“Saturday sounds perfect,” he reassures her. And while she’s already excited for it, she also knows they have a whole week of little moments like this to look forward to.

-x-

Chapter 7

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #captain swan ff #sarah writes ff #csrt

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sunevial · 4 years

Text

Moving Day

This is once again another case of ‘not exactly a commission, but someone chucking money at me to eventually write about space and magic gays’, except this time, it’s from @hewhowalksbehind.

Continuation of this.

---

Of all the things Venny missed most about Ylxret at nine thirty in the goddamn morning, it was automated coffee makers. Blearily pouring water down the little spout and pushing entirely too many shiny buttons, she eventually got the machine to start blinking. With a grumble, she slotted a floral patterned mug under the funnel and slumped against the counter.

Water was boiling, oatmeal was in the new saucepan, spoon was in the sink, bowls were…

She forgot to buy bowls.

Fuck a duck.

Groaning, she pressed her hands to her eyes and let out a long sigh. After a shopping trip that must’ve lasted an eternity, she had been running on fumes by the time she had a chance to pass out last night, but apparently even that wasn’t enough to calm her adrenaline addled brain. Her best guess was that she hadn’t fallen asleep until three, and even that was a generous estimate. To add insult to injury, her first night in her new apartment was plagued by restless dreams, fitful tossing and turning, and a blanket that was neither warm or cool enough.

At least the air mattress was comfortable.

The air mattress was comfortable, and her new plush corgi was cuddly.

A steady drip of liquid gold splashed into the mug, the warm coffee revealing heat activated yellow and white circuitry lines weaving through the painted-on flowers. Not even bothering with milk or sugar, she downed the coffee fast enough to get away with only minor tongue burns and shoveled down instant oatmeal straight from the pot. Throwing both into the sink to wash up later, she scrambled into the shower just long enough to wash off yesterday’s sweat and rub away the smell of what felt like seven layers of deodorant. A fresh change of clothes later, a practical t-shirt and legging combo, and she felt half-way to being a functioning person again.

Which was really convenient considering that things would start arriving in approximately now.

Grabbing both wallet and keys, she quietly slipped out of her room and padded downstairs to the front lobby. Today was Internet access, a ‘do it yourself’ table and chair set, and the cushions for her couch. The couch itself was tomorrow, along with the bedframe and mattress, and the nightstand and dresser wouldn’t be for another week yet. Thankfully, unlike her very much not present bowls, she had remembered to buy a toolkit, so at the very least she would have somewhere else to sit by the end of today.

A quick peek outside confirmed that the Internet people hadn’t arrived yet, so Venny plopped down on one of the lobby couches and quickly scanned for any available wireless hotspots. It would’ve been laughably easy to tap into a password protected connection with a couple waves of her hand, but she knew better than to bum off someone. It was also probably very illegal.

Eventually, she got ahold of a weak signal from the coffee shop next door, and her com link lit up with a happy beep. Her eyes flashed back and forth as she redirected the electrical signals within the device, ensuring that this much weaker and simpler form of wireless communication would end up being compatible. When she was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be running at a snail’s pace, she pulled and weaved the software code until the screen lit up and the holoprojector displayed a rotating band of images. Smiling triumphantly, she tapped on her email, she still had a hard time believing Toven still used email, and sifted through the various messages she had gotten over the past day or so.

Confirmation from her Internet provider, spam, start day and paperwork for work, coupon for shampoo, more spam…updated delivery day for her larger furniture?

“Due to upgrades in processing time, your order will instead be delivered today around ten AM, we hope to see you then,” she muttered under her breath, suppressing a loud groan and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. On the one hand, she’d have an actual bed by the end of the day if everything went right. On the other hand, this was one more group of people to talk with and one more group of things to do, and she was not convinced that all of the coffee in the world would make either of those things easier. Not much she could reasonably do about that, though, because her damn couch was coming whether she was awake enough to realize it or not.

Whatever happened next didn’t seem to follow the proper passage of time. Sometimes it moved breathtakingly fast, other times painstakingly slow. All Venny could register through her brain-addled eyes was a never ending blur of paper signing, hauling packages, and telling people she had never met to put things down wherever they could find open space. By the time the last person was out of her apartment, and she could actually gauge the passage of time, it was exactly eleven twenty-four in the morning. She collapsed onto one of the new cushions, a nice olive green that she definitely didn’t remember picking out, and got to thinking.

Assets: She had Internet access that wasn’t siphoned off the coffeeshop.

Consequences: Her apartment was no longer able to accommodate carpet angels.

Priority one: Bed needed to be set up. She’d like an actual bed.

Priority two: Get the couch out of the center of the living room.

Priority three: Actually build the table so she could eat without standing up.

Problem: She had the energy to do maybe half of the bed set up.

Slowly getting back onto her feet, she shuffled towards the bedroom, though not before noticing her front door still propped wide open from all of the deliveries. She went to close it, getting about halfway there before the door across the hall opened, revealing Sol’s relatively incredulous face.

“Morning,” she said, leaning against the doorframe and stifling a yawn. “Lot of noise over there for a weekend morning.”

“That makes two of us,” Venny replied, trying to put on as apologetic an expression as she could muster. “I didn’t wake either of you up, did I?”

She shook her head, lavender curls bouncing a little. “Nah, I’ve been up for a bit, and Clarissa could sleep through a hurricane if you let her.”

“Still gonna apologize,” Venny said, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing a touch. “You know, I didn’t think most furniture places delivered on weekends.”

“Learn something new everyday.” Her eyes glanced towards Venny’s now incredibly messy apartment for a moment. “You settling in okay?”

Venny chuckled, tapping the ground absentmindedly with a foot. Well, she could answer truthfully, she could answer in the socially acceptable way, or she could split it down the middle and hope for the best. “I think so, just need to get used to...all of this.”

“It’s not easy moving somewhere new, even harder when you’re all alone,” Sol said with a sympathetic smile, nodding her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “If you need help getting set up, I’m not really doing anything today.”

Venny blinked a couple of times, shaking her head even as every fiber of her being was saying ‘take up the offer’. As much as she’d love another pair of hands helping out, she’d already taken up enough of Sol’s time between the reading interruption and the grocery care package. Best not to take advantage of her kindness this many times in such a short period of time. Or maybe Sol didn’t care, that she just actually wanted to help and didn’t resent her for it, and this was just a combination of sleep deprivation and anxiety talking. Maybe it was both. It was probably both. “I think I’ve got it handled,” she replied, twirling a twist between her fingers. “Thanks for the offer though.”

All she got in return was an incredulously raised eyebrow.

“Or maybe I’m saying that because I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness again and seem really needy in a time of upheaval and stress,” Venny said with a defeated sigh.

“I wouldn’t be offering it if I didn’t wanna help.” Sol smirked just a touch. “I know my boundaries better than that.”

Venny could physically feel the tension in her muscles drain away as she slumped against her own door frame. “I promise I’m not this pathetic all of the time.”

“You said it yourself, a lot of upheaval and stress, and from what it sounds like, absolutely no sleep either,” she replied with a shrug, popping back into her own apartment long enough to grab her keys and phone. “Alright, where are we starting?”

“Bedroom, cause I need a bed.”

The two of them quickly made their way to the chaotic bedroom, surveying the bed frame in its various parts and the mattress propped up against the window. Cracking open the new tool box, Sol set to work screwing everything into place while Venny sorted through a veritable hoard of metal rods and support beams. While she had no reason to doubt that Sol could wield a hammer and screwdriver, watching her work was, in a word, beautiful. Sol took to the various tools with a clear familiarity, handling them with delicacy and certainty as she aligned the wooden frame. Venny knew nothing about art, but she knew an artist’s touch.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Venny said, holding a level against the wood to see if any holes needed a quick re-drill or if something had been screwed in the wrong place.

“I’d hope so, I make things for a living,” Sol replied, wiping a little sweat off her brow.

“What kind of things?”

Sol returned with a playful smile. “You get three guesses.”

She allowed thirty seconds to come up with her answers, no small feat with how slow her brain was chugging along. “Artisanal woodworking.”

“Nope.”

“Artisanal metalworking.”

“Nope.”

“Designing prototypes for this exact style of bed frame,” Venny said with a shit eating grin that was probably more of a result of her being half way to slap happy.

Sol rolled her eyes, closing one as she carefully twisted the last screw into place. “Okay, I’ll admit, second one was closer.”

“So what is it?”

“You’re not gonna believe me,” Sol said flatly, tapping the frame twice for good measure.

Venny pouted, planting her elbows on the footboard and resting her chin on her fists. “Come on, it can’t be that out there.”

“I promise I’m not joking.”

“You could say you build rocket ships and I’m so tired I’d believe you.”

Sol paused for almost ten full seconds. “Funny you mention that…”

“Get out, you make spaceships?” Venny’s head poked over the frame with eyes wide and excitement clear as day on her lips. “You’re with the Wisteria Space Program?”

“Technically I’m in the rocketry department, not the spaceship program, but same idea,” Sol said with a shrug, jumping to her feet and whistling. Similar to yesterday, the wind kicked up, swirling around the room almost as if it was having fun. The mattress slowly but surely floated off the ground, providing just enough lift for the two of them to set it on the frame without straining muscles or having to worry about wingspans.

“Still, that’s so cool,” Venny continued, grabbing the sheets off of her air mattress and throwing them onto the bed. “I don’t even think I know anyone back home who does that. What do you even do there?”

Sol laughed, grabbing the sheet and stretching it over a corner. “I’d tell you, but that’s classified.”

“Is that a joke or is that actually classified?”

“‘I might actually get arrested for treason’ classified,” Sol said in a completely serious deadpan.

“Anything you can tell me?” Venny asked, head tilted as her hands quickly smoothed out her blue and white comforter over the bed.

Sol thought for a full minute, arranging pillows and plushies absentmindedly as she paced around the small room. The wind followed her, catching her shirt and blowing it in every direction imaginable, almost as if it was thinking alongside her. “Physics. Lots of physics.”

“Dang.”

A knock sounded at the door, and for the second day in a row, Venny opened it to find Clarissa standing there with a large smile on her face. She had no gifts in hand this time around, but she was scrolling through her phone. “Sol texted me she was here helping out, you done stealing my roommate? I need her for something of vital importance.”

“I offered,” Sol called as she emerged from the bedroom.

“She still stole you!” Clarissa shouted back, though with a laugh and smile on her face.

Venny returned with a grin of her own. “We should be done pretty soon. Though if it’s really that important, I can take care of the rest.”

“It’s not important, she’s just trying to get me to set up a dating app,” Sol said with a sigh and an accusatory finger. “Because my roommate is a nosy bitch who insists on setting me up with every girl she happens to meet.”

“It’s not every girl.” Clarissa huffed indignantly.

Sol’s face told a much different story with how frustrated those eyebrows looked. “You’ve specifically set me up with three of your exes, a girl from your class, and the florist down the street.”

“All I’m saying is that she’s got a great personality and an even better ass.”

“Then why don’t you ask her out?!” Sol exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“Because I’m already seeing two people!”

It might have just been Venny’s ears, but she swore she heard laughing from somewhere else in the apartment.

“Alright, alright, you can have your roommate back,” Venny said, holding back a belly laugh as best as she could. Never in her life had she’d been so grateful to hear two women loudly arguing about female love interests. Her family had been concerned with her moving to Toven, knowing that not every place was as accepting of non-heterosexual identities as Ylxret. New Haven had a better track record than most, though, and conditions were certainly getting better as time went on. If nothing else, seeing her two neighbors argue about sapphic love affairs in the hallway was a good indicator that she had nothing to worry about here. “Hope the app set up goes well.”

“I’m not setting up the app,” Sol declared with a flat tone, going over to the boxed up table and cutting away tape like a woman scorned. “I’ll get a date on my own damn time.”

“I mean, if you’re looking for someone else to add to the list, I’m into women,” Venny joked, smiling at Clarissa. She watched the pink haired woman’s eyes light up, and hastily threw up her hands. “Not that I’m looking for a relationship, I’ve just moved and I think that might’ve been me not having normal social barriers up due to lack of sleep.”

Sol audibly groaned in the background. “Damn it, you’ve given her ideas.”

“Well that’s even better! You’re new in town and need to see the sights, and I know a great little place Sol could take you for lunch,” Clarissa said, pulling out her phone and rapidly texting. “I’m sending you the directions now.”

Venny blinked a couple of times, finally just realizing the full ramifications of what she had just done. At least she knew now never to open her mouth when she was this sleep deprived, or at least, not do so when possible romantic relationships were involved. Feeling the heat rapidly rising to her face, she shot a glance to Sol, desperately trying to find a way out of this increasingly awkward situation.

With a sigh, Sol pulled out her phone and rubbed her temples. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Don’t be, it’s my fault,” Venny said, smiling sheepishly. “I’m really not in the place to be thinking about that anyways.”

“Then think of it like a friendly social,” Clarissa said with a large, not at all innocent smile, eyes darting first to Venny. “You need to meet people-” Her eyes flashed towards her roommate. “-and you need to get out more. Win-win situation!”

Sol’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “Clarissa-”

“Venny, what do you think?” she asked, smiling wide and oh so sweet. So this was a game for them both, a sort of give and take war between them, and this is the moment where she was supposed to choose a side. Her next move decided the winner of this match between these two equally stubborn individuals.

She was already on the edge of the diving board, might as well take the jump.

“What’s the food like?” Venny asked, putting on her best innocent smile.

Sol sighed in defeat, grumbling and pulling out her phone. “Stir fry and dumplings. Let me know when you’re free.”

Clarissa grinned with a smile that could split the sea. “It’s a date!”

#my writing #my stories #two together are always going somewhere #venny #sol

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imhereforbvcky · 5 years

Text

Vivid - Part 3

Masterlist - Series Masterpage

Summary: Have you ever met someone who completely embodies a color? Not an aura, not synesthesia. Just… They walk into the room and when you spot them, you think to yourself, “Wow. That is a walking hurricane.” When Clint Barton serendipitously meets a free-spirited stranger, he sees red. Chapter: You and Clint have become that indefinable thing between friends and... well something more. Or less, since you’re both too anxious to push through that barrier. Can a relationship grow anyway?

Warnings: I guarantee there’s swearing. There usually is. That’s about it, just a load of fluff and cuteness with a side of nerves.

Word Count: 2637

A/N: I’m laaaate with this, I’m sorry! I had some unexpected visitors who wanted to take a 7hr (each way) camping road-trip over the weekend. So I didn’t have time to queue this up. Anyway, here we go! Two goofs, two dorks, two relationship idiots, dancing around each other! Let’s go!

The last few millimeters of coffee swirled in your mug, mixing thick foam and heavy chocolate with the final precious bits of caffeine. Your friend scowled at you from across the petite round café table.

“So who is he?”

“Hmm?” You set your phone down beside your now empty cup, loopy smile hooking one side of your face into a lazy grin.

Nina circled an accusatory finger around your face. “That!” Then she pointed to the phone. “Who is he?”

“Don’t judge me, just because you’re Fort Knox.”

“I stash my precious golden heart behind a heavily fortified vault for a reason. People are greedy and rough, especially with someone as careless as you. I’m just looking out for my friend,” she finally sighed watching you check your phone again. “You keep diving head first without looking how deep the water is, you’re going to break your neck one day.”

“Maybe, but at least I’ll know what the water feels like.”

“I don’t… even know what that means,” she frowned, picking at her crème brûlée. “We’re mixing metaphors.”

“It means I’d rather get a little bruised looking for love than to hide from it forever and feel nothing.”

Nina’s frown dipped into a disgruntled scowl. “I feel things.”

“Oh you definitely do,” you teased, dipping a spoon into her dessert. “You feel very nervous when you’re happy…”

She sliced at your spoon with her own, defending her treat.

“You feel uncomfortable when you think people you care about are too happy.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt. Again.” She argued.

“But then you wouldn’t get to say, ‘I told you so.’”

She rolled her eyes, but grinned. Nina did love to be right. “So? Who is he? Need to make sure he’s worth the leap.”

“We’re not even—he’s just a friend right now.” You explained. Then smiled excitedly, bouncing in your seat. “But I kinda like him.”

“Yeah I figured. That dopey grin kinda gave it away.” She tapped your phone. “Why do you only see him in the middle of the night? Seems a lot like the last one if you ask m—“

“They’re nothing alike,” you snapped.

Your friend cocked an eyebrow: half challenge, half interest.

“It’s not like that,” you shrugged. “We have coffee at the 24-hour diner, or eat pizza on a stoop,” you explained, a little grin sneaking in. “We just talk. Or we don’t. He’s good. And it just… comes easy, ya know? He makes me laugh, when I’m 2am heavy.”

Nina sighed and pushed her empty dessert dish away from her. “Please just… look before you leap this time.”

“Where’ve you been?”

Clint jumped at least a foot. The canister of coffee grounds clattered to the floor and rolled until Natasha lifted her toe to stop it under foot.

“Why so jumpy?” she probed further.

“’Cause there’s a spy in my apartment,” he grumbled, tossing his keys on the counter.

“Well?”

“Just went for coffee.”

She opened the cupboard to put the new canister away beside the other 6 unopened tins. “You know, for a SHIELD agent, you’re a terrible liar.”

“Why are you checking up on me, Nat?”

“You missed movie night.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“And last week you forgot about Burger Monday.”

“I know, I’ve been dropping the ball lately…”

“My friend Clint would never forget about In-n-Out.”

He chuckled when he realized she wasn’t mad. Not completely. More concerned, and interested, and upset he was hiding something from her. Which was fair, he didn’t keep secrets from Nat. Not ever.

“So tell me.” Her voice was gentle, asking not demanding. “Who has you so distracted?”

Clint trudged to the worn out couch and flopped into it, before toeing off his ever-untied boots. “Just a friend. I got carried away.”

“No,” she argued, curling up on the other end of the couch. “You blew off your friends. This is something else. You like this person.”

“I should’ve been at movie night.” He shook his head and let it drop back onto the cushions. “You’re my family, I should be there. And besides, you know how I am about relationships. It was a mistake.”

“You must really like this mystery person,” Natasha observed, tilting her head to study her closest friend.

“I do and now I’ve said it out loud it’s real and I wish I didn’t, ‘cause now I’m definitely gonna screw it up,” he mumbled, tossing his forearm over his eyes. If he closed his eyes a minute longer, he could imagine a world where he got to have nice things. Good things and good people worth having. People like you would stay and he wouldn’t have trust issues. So he kept his eyes shut tight and his arm stubbornly heavy over them. “I wasn’t thinking. It just… felt really good to be around her, you know? For a second I forgot.”

“Clint, I think it’s a good thing for us to forget. Forget the past, forget the present – what we do. We can’t carry it forever. It’s a good thing: figuring out how to move on. And if you can find someone to do that with you… Well I’d say you’re one lucky guy.”

He flopped over, letting his head fall beside her and his feet curl up behind his knees and sighed. Reality again, dim in his cheap midnight apartment, messy in more ways than one. “I don’t know how to take care of a relationship like that. Growing up like I did, and now doing what we do… I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? Always fighting something. I’m just gonna ruin it.”

“Clint,” She pressed long cool hands against the sides of his face, and craned her neck to look down at him. All he could see were clear green eyes that bore straight into the core of him, knowing, understanding, and simplifying. “Love isn’t war.”

“I don’t even know her that well. We’re not…” his eyes darted anywhere but what he was sure were all-seeing eyes. “It’s not love.”

“But that’s the end game right,” she cut him off. “You like her, and it might go that way. You need to remember that it’s not war, and it’s not torture. That might be what we’re used to, but this isn’t supposed to tear you apart. It’s not tears and bruises and blood. It’s work, but the kind that makes you softer. That person should make you lighter, bring you peace.”

“She’s like a damn helium balloon.” The hint of a smile came unbidden. There was enough levity in just the thought of you to tug it over his lips, crinkle at his eyes.

“Then stop looking for grenades.” She let her hands drift away from his face, and the seriousness faded with the warmth. “Enjoy… whatever it is while you have it.”

Clint sighed. Natasha was right, and he often needed her to kick him in the ass with this kind of thing. It was why they were such great friends. She got it. But that didn’t make it easier to actually do.

“And give me a name so I can vet her.”

“Nat!”

She shrugged. “Just looking out for my friend.”

“You busy?” Your voice was bright coming through the phone as the elevators closed behind you.

“Uh…”

You chewed the edge of your nail to near oblivion. Taking Nina’s advice, launched you way out of your comfort zone, and that hesitant, non-committal answer did nothing to assuage your anxiety.

Clint, with the phone still to his ear glanced over his shoulder down the range. It was his turn to lead training, but when your name turned up on his phone, he’d have taken any excuse to bail. Could he feign a sprained ankle? He was clumsy enough…

Natasha glanced at him, with a question in her creased brow as she retrieved her paper target and began circling her shots. Tony stood frowning down range. He’d been complaining that he should be exempt from target practice since his ‘super-power’ came with heat-seeking missiles. Really, he just hated losing.

Clint’s entire body hunkered low, phone pressed to his chest when he heard the high-pitched whine of a repulsor-ray.

“Bull’s-eye. I win.” Tony grumbled before storming off. The target had been blown to hell. The frame holding the target was nothing more than smoke. The hillside behind the row of targets had a fresh gouge of scorched grass and upturned dirt.

Clint and Natasha shared a glance and she rolled her eyes.

“Clint? Hello?” his phone chirped in his hand. “You there?”

“Uhm,” he tried again. “No. No, I’m not busy. Not anymore. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. Clint was already walking quickly back toward the compound with a haphazard wave at Natasha. “I finished up early at the office and I just missed you. Is that weird? It is a little,” you rambled. “Anyway, I know it’s still daylight, and that’s not really um… our thing. Shit, this was dumb. This is like that embarrassing rambling voicemail that you delete and try again 4 times except you answered and now you have to hear it and I have to live with the memory. This was so dumb! I should let you go.”

“No!” Clint found himself cringing at the force with which he’d spoken. But he absolutely did not want you to let him go. “No, it’s fine. It’s nice to not be the only idiot around.”

There was a silence and he slapped his palm to his forehead. He just called you an idiot. His head dropped back and his face scrunched while he fought back a grown, wondering if anyone could be a bigger idiot than him in that moment.

Mercifully a chuckle finally broke through from on the other end of the line. “We’ve definitely cornered the market.”

“Mhmm.” He dragged a hand down his face, still unable to release his cringe enough to form real words.

“So do you wanna…?”

“Yeah,” he managed. “Yeah, give me an hour. What’d you have in mind?”

“I could use a cuddle.”

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Clint stood in the tiny tiled room, waiting. You were already sitting on the floor, feet curled up under you, jittering in anticipation. One minute, you were clapping excitedly, the next shoving his shoulder, the next dancing on the spot.

Something between a chuckle and a scoff passed his lips. This was a horrible idea for so many reasons.

It was also brilliant.

And anything that made you this happy, he decided, was well worth his time.

“How often do you do this?” he asked.

You beamed up at him. “Often enough that the front desk gave me a volunteer form this time!”

“This is crazy. You’re crazy.” His words didn’t have any sting. No bite. It was a fond sort of acknowledgement.

“Okay, are you ready to meet Arrow?” the shelter employee asked, peering around the corner.

“Um, yes!” You clapped with glee as she opened the little gate and ushered the dog into the room.

He immediately bounded over, drawn to your excited energy.

“Oh! I’m in love already!” you exclaimed as he wiggled and romped around on the floor beside you.

“I’ll give you a little time,” the employee smiled, ducking out.

“This is just cruel,” Clint argued, crouching down to ruffle the dog’s ears. It abandoned you almost immediately, leaning into Clint’s hand.

“No it isn’t! They sit in cages all day, they need love as much as I do.” Your voice was a goofy croon as you pet the overly friendly yellow lab.

“I meant cruel to me!”

You laughed and Clint eased down onto the floor beside you. He was entirely preoccupied with Arrow, scrubbing his ears, gently shoving the dog’s chest back, grabbing at a lazily thrown paw. They wrestled in the tight space like they’d been doing it for years.

You, on the other hand, could only take in the completely unburdened smile that lit up Clint’s face. It made you glad for the warmth of his arm squeezed against yours in the narrow space. The familiar heat of his skin was like an extension of his joy.

Clint absorbed you entirely in his calm steady happiness, a cool sort of comfortable that spread through your veins, rather than the frenzied red rush you had spent so long chasing, had spent so many tears watching slip through your fingers. This was different, and new, and something you hadn’t known you’d wanted. It was a chill up your spine and soft glint in his eye, a light flutter in your stomach.

You startled when the dog leapt to the side and knocked him wholly against you from knee to shoulder. Clint didn’t flinch, didn’t withdraw, would never have thought to. He was warm and comfortable, and you were something good and bright he liked being close to. You amplified the parts of each other that sometimes got lost in the chaos. Here in this tiny tiled room with the bounding energy of a shelter dog between you, that balance swelled. The room seemed full of it and the stress of the day crowded out with ease.

“Sorry,” he turned to you with a smirk as the dog plowed into his gut with a braided rope toy. “I’m hogging the puppy. You needed cuddles.”

“S’okay,” you shrugged, linking your arm around his elbow and curling your hand up to the lean stretch of bicep pressed against your own shoulder. “You’re cuddly. And he likes you.”

Clint’s playful smile softened into something else, something full and gentle as he looked down at you. You didn’t see it though, as you reached out to pat the dog and let your cheek fall to Clint’s shoulder.

This little adventure was indulgent, and silly, but that was exactly what Clint liked about being with you. Those things felt right, and it made him feel good. So he indulged. He let his lips fall to the top of your head, nose tickled by your hair and the smell of soap. For a moment, he let himself stay like that. Then he kissed the top of your head. Quietly, gently, deliciously thoughtless.

Even more satisfying: you didn’t react at all. Just stayed curled up like that against his side and let him.

Clint walked out with a new dog that day. One he promptly renamed when his favorite pizza vendor – a gas station that sells pizza by the slice but Clint buys by the pie – spotted you outside with him on a long red lead.

“Lucky day for you, eh?” he’d asked with a toothy grin and a big box of pepperoni pizza.

Clint glanced over his shoulder and grinned, lop-sided and nearly lost. He was sure he looked like a damn fool, he just didn’t care. “It’s been a pretty good one.”

“Who am I to stand between Lady Luck and her prize,” he said, shooing away Clint’s money. “It’s going stale anyway, just take it.”

“Really? Thanks, Marco!”

When he found you on the tiniest spit of grass, you slipped a greedy hand into the box and withdrew a slice. He couldn’t help laughing at the grin on your lips as you stuffed half the piece into your mouth.

“’M starving!” you mumbled.

He shook his head and reached into the box himself. Except instead of eating the slice, he tossed it to Arrow. “He’s a lucky dog. This was free!”

“You should call him Lucky!”

He grinned and slung an arm over your shoulder, the three of you heading down the block back to his stoop to finish the box of pizza between you. Lucky seemed more fitting for a dog than Arrow anyway. He liked it.

“Lucky the pizza dog.”

Part 4 >>

#clint x reader #clint x reader fluff #clint barton x reader #clint barton x reader fluff #clint barton fanfic #avengers fanfic #clint barton

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charmingturkeysandwich · 5 years

Text

Lost by Choice

Welp, this is the Naked and Afraid AU that absolutely no one in the world asked for. I’m trying to get back into writing, and last weekend I watched a lot of Naked & Afraid (I usually watch Investigation Discovery, but was exhausted with murder), and I just couldn’t stop seeing an AU opportunity. I don’t know. Maybe someone out there will appreciate?

Part 1 of 2 Rating: Teen (swearing) Word Count: 2200ish

AO3

In retrospect, a televised challenge with a little less dehydration and mosquito bites would have been a smarter choice. Maybe one that didn't involve literal hunting for food and water. But Killian Jones was always one for a challenge. He was a survivor. He had already lived through a thousand different hells (hyperbole); he could live through this one, too. Except he hadn't slept in 3 days, hadn't had clean water (aside from opening his mouth in the rain) in the same amount of time. Oh, and he was slightly in love with his very naked partner who very much despised him.

Yeah, Killian being a survivor and all, he should have chosen to audition for that show. Not Naked and fucking Afraid.

But noooo he'd been determined to prove himself. And to whom? He didn't have anyone around anymore to impress. Liam was dead. Milah was dead. Bae made it perfectly clear Killian should consider him dead. He'd lost everyone and everything and apparently the long-lost emo kid inside him decided he needed to take that metaphor and make it literal and audition for a show where he was cold and he was ashamed, lying broken on the floor.

Wait, no, that wasn't it.

(The delirium had set in.)

Surviving in the worst of conditions had drawn him to this particular (idiotic) challenge, but there was something, too, in the partnership aspect. Being paired with only one other person, just as stranded as you, to finish out the task... maybe it was his complete loneliness or, again, the part of him who couldn't resist a challenge, but it intrigued him. How do you put all of your individual experiences together to form a bond, a team, that would keep them alive for 21 days without another soul?

Then he was paired with Emma fucking Swan.

Let it be known: Killian wasn't a creeper. He didn't pick this show so he could stare at some tits for 21 days. The naked part was entirely about being stripped of all comfort and all help. Nothing sexual about it, you wankers. But he'd have to have been blind to not see how goddamn gorgeous this woman was. Toned, lean, yet soft. An innocence about her, but a regal kind of confidence all the same. She was like a Disney Princess and a intergalactic thief all in one. So perhaps his cock twitched just a bit upon meeting her, but he's a fucking gentleman and he could keep it in his damn pants.

(If he'd had pants.)

This was his tactical partner, and nothing more.

They didn't exactly hit it off, but their skills were nothing to scoff at. Killian's past in the Royal Navy, his service abroad, and his extensive knowledge of tropical vegetation made for a great foundation for survival. As for Emma, she was the scrappy one. She was an improviser, a problem-solver, and a bold woman who'd lived without a home for many years. A fact that, quite simply, made Killian sad. He might not have his home anymore, but at least he'd had one. Once upon a time.

But Emma wasn't a fan of his feelings, it seemed.

"Wipe the pity off your face, Jones. I'm fine. I survived. And I'm going to survive now, with or without you." For the first time, Emma awkwardly crossed her arms over her breasts, as if to maintain modesty, and full-on scowled at him. They hadn't been what you'd call friendly yet, but they didn't exactly know each other yet, either. Of course they'd have to ease into it.But it seemed Emma wanted to just ease right back out and jump into hostile territory.

She was skilled as hell. Quite the badass, in fact. When Killian identified the best place for a shelter, she immediately laid out the plan to build it. And then just... did it. He looked at the map and figured out the best place to get freshwater, and as soon as he set out to gather it, she lit the fire. That first day they were productive as hell and those 21 days were looking like a cake walk.

And then there was the nearby hurricane. That first night, about an hour after sunset, the rain began.

And it never. Fucking. Stopped.

It was freezing, way too cold to sleep. And when he suggested to Emma that maybe they huddle for warmth, she shot razor blades out her (beautiful) eyes at him. "I'm not looking to bed you, Swan, we're just trying to survive here. Princess might need to accept that despite her beauty not every man is looking to fuck her," he'd snapped around 3am, the wind whipping so strongly he was sure their roof was going to fail at any moment.

"Princess? I've been working my ass off here and definitely pulling my weight. Don't act like I'm some spoiled bitch who just came here looking for a strong man to protect me. Nobody saves me but me, OK? And if I don't want you to touch me, you fucking won't."

There was probably a story there, probably something about as tragic as her having lived without a home, but he wasn't going to touch it. There was no benefit to aggravating her further. They had the skills for this. They made a good team, even if she didn't quite see it yet. And he could shove down all attraction for the sake of survival. He would be fine.

(What he wouldn't give for a rice allowance and a reward challenge. Damn him for not sending that tape to CBS instead of Discovery)

The next two days were more of the same. Emma's fire had long been extinguished by the rain and they'd yet to locate anywhere dry enough to attempt to build a new one. The wind was constant and kept changing directions, so even the portions of the jungle with the most canopy were still drenched. The freshwater Killian had found was muddy as hell and couldn't be drunk before boiling it - and with no fire, they had no means to boil.And food - well, they were running on probably 120 calories between them across the 3 days.

Their dynamic was, frankly, exhausting. They'd be cooperating just fine, talking strategy or accident prevention (it was business, all business), and then he'd offer to do just one too many things and she'd shut down. The fact that her walls seemed to attract him more was... problematic. And annoying. He needed one blasted healthy relationship in his miserable life. This woman, though stunning in every way, clearly had baggage so massive she needed a 757 all to herself and yet all he could think was how he wanted to be her pilot. ("I'd fly the fucking plane myself, Jones," she would probably say. If she were in his head. Was she? Is she? Was he talking out loud by accident?)

He was tired and though the rain had stopped for a while, the mosquitoes had sure as hell started and he was the most uncomfortable he'd ever been in his entire life - and he'd stood at a funeral between his (dead) lover and her husband/murderer, half covered in poison ivy from the previous week's (ultimately "successful") search for her.

(No, he shouldn't have chosen Survivor instead. He should have chosen staying the fuck home and watching these complete wankers on the goddamn telly.)

(The British was strong when he was pissed.)

(God, a pint would be nice right about now.)

The lack of sleep, the bug bites, the constant war with his partner, it got to him. It broke him. He snapped. Those were the easy ways of describing the tirade that began that afternoon after her shutting him out once again.

"Why the hell are you even here, Swan? Have you not seen this fucking show before? One man. And one woman. Together. This wasn't a survive on your own thing. Ever! You knew from the start you were going to have to interact with another human. Of which you seem utterly incapable! This place is hell but it would be 100% better for me if you weren't fucking here!"

Emma sat, seemingly gobsmacked, still curled with her knees at her chest, sitting upright against their shelter. But it didn't take long before the fire almost literally shot from her eyes.

"Absolutely agreed! This place would be much better if I weren't stuck with you. I was hoping that I'd be given a partner who didn't know what he was doing and tapped out in a few days so I could just do this thing alone. But. There's nothing to say I still can't." At that, she stood, grabbing her satchel and awkwardly playing with the mic pack around her neck. "If you could just hand me the map, I'll get out of your hair and I'll see you again for extraction in a few weeks, kay?"

Mmmkay, maybe he was rethinking that whole "falling in love with her" thing. Because right now he mostly wanted to set her on fire.

"Seriously, Swan? You're running away?"

"I've been reliably told it's what I do best."

With one last glare, Emma turned away from him, snagging the map and studying it just a moment before trudging off East.

---

Of all the stupid ass ideas she's had in her life, this one had to be the dumbest. She doesn't like relying on anyone else. Or being forced to be around someone else. So why in the name of hell would she sign up for a TV show where she was stuck with one person 24/7 for three fucking weeks?

And, oh, god, the people at home who would watch this. Of course it would be edited to make her look even crazier than she objectively was being. And Killian would look like the hero, AKA the exact opposite of what she wanted. She'd come here to prove that she could survive when you took everything away. Everything.

No weapons... no friends... no hope. Take all that away and what's left?

Me.

Oh, god. Was she hallucinating Buffy scenes? And not even positive ones. Sure, Buffy kicked some ass after that, but then she lost... everything.

Emma's whole life had been lost. Why did she think she needed any more?Because Lost Girls end up in the jungle of Neverland. Apparently.

And pushing away a dude who has done nothing but try to do like the show is meant for an survive as a team? Downright idiotic. But she's backed herself into a bit of a corner now, storming off like that. And there's a reason they say Pride is the deadliest sin. It makes you do the dumbest shit, and - worst of all - to stick to it like burrs on a sheepdog. So she found a little hill away from the storm runoff and she built a shabby little shelter (too exhausted for the expert work of the first shelter, which, by the way, had mostly withstood the storm to this point, thank you very much). She failed to start a fire, which wasn't surprising, and the rain started up again before sunset, so she curled up on her "bed" of fronds and dreamed of chewing down a heart of palm or a snake or really anything at this point because fantasizing about grilled cheese and onion rings might actually be the one that would inspire her to tap out and run.

For a few hours she faded in and out of sleep, disturbed by noise and pain and the shame of having treated Killian the way that she did. And had been this whole time. It wasn't his fault he was so damn attractive. It wasn't his fault that he was making her feel things she promised herself she would never again let herself feel. If only it was his toned abs and quite frankly impressive cock that had scrambled her brain the first day they met. No, the nudity wasn't really even a factor, since, you know, she kind of knew it was part of the deal. But she'd been expected an asshole. Or an idiot. Or someone that was just so platonic that they might as well have been a woman. Or a lamp.

But he was kind and funny and caring and she just knew he had a backstory that could rival hers because faces like that - and bodies like that - absolutely did not build good character when adversity never struck. Nope, that man has suffered.

With all that suffering between them, how they hell did they end up - voluntarily - stranded in a jungle?

(We accept the love we think we deserve.)

Ugh. Now she was haunted by Pinterest memes.

Protein. She needed some protein, like, now.

When the sun came up, her sole focus was on nutrition. She needed something to eat. Her emotions were running too high and emotional calories were definitely more draining than physical calories. Or something. How had all of her survival research and training just fall out of her head by Day 2?

Because your brain needs sleep and nutrients to properly process and recall information.

(See, some of it hadn't left.)

Apparently her sense of balance had left, though, because without warning her ankle rolled to the side and Emma slid off the tree she'd been climbing and her body hit every limb on its way back to Earth.

Well, shit, was the last thing she thought before she smacked into the rock below her, the warmth cascading down her torso the last feeling she had before her eyes slid shut.

#cs ff #cs au #cs ff au #cs fan fic #naked and afraid #reality tv au #keisha writes #i'm honestly not sure how good this is #but i'm posting anyway

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lancetuckershairgel · 5 years

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The Family Secret: A Superfamily AU

Eleanor Rogers is your average teenage girl living in New York City. Her father, Steve, is a highly ranked, semi-retired military soldier. Her stepfather, Tony Stark, is a billionaire inventor. Her stepbrother, Peter, is a dweeb. Life was great for the Rogers-Stark family until one day Steve leaves for an important mission and Eleanor stumbles upon a secret her father has been keeping from her.

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day

“Eleanor wake up!” My little brother’s voice squeaked as he poked my slumbering body

“Go away Peter” I grumbled, turning over and pulling the blanket over my head

“We’re going to be late for school” Peter pushed against my shoulder, annoyed

“Go without me, I’ll get there eventually.” I said, swatting at his hand

“Steve’s going to be mad if you’re late again” Peter shrugged before walking out of my room, making sure to flip the light on as he left.

I groaned and threw the covers off. I sat up and rubbed my eyes until they adjusted to the bright light and yawned. Staying up until midnight studying for midterms wasn’t a great idea, but I wasn’t one for organized structure and had messed around until the last minute. I quickly got dressed, throwing on some leggings and a sweatshirt that had originally belonged to my step dad. Throwing my hair into a bun, I grabbed my backpack and ran down the stairs.

“Morning kiddo.” I heard from the kitchen as my step dad stepped into the doorway, his favorite coffee mug from the CERN museum in his hand “You going to eat breakfast?”

“I don’t have time Tony, I’m running late”

“Again?” I heard my dad sigh from the kitchen before joining us

“Sorry” I shrugged, looking around frantically for my shoes

“Here” Dad grabbed my flip flops and handed them to me

“Not those. I have gym today” I said, tossing the cushions off the couch “I need my trainers”

“I’ll look in the bathroom, Steve you take the entryway,” Tony said as he walked off down the hallway

My dads helped me look for my shoes and a few minutes later I was kissing them both on the cheek and running out the door.

“She’s a mess” Dad muttered, shaking his head as he watched me run down the sidewalk

“But she’s our mess” Tony gave him a kiss on the temple before returning to his breakfast

----

School was the same as always, and the midterm was a breeze. I finished early which gave me time to go to the library. I was browsing the biography section, trying to decide on which person I should write my literature paper about when I saw someone approach from the corner of my eye.

“Sup?” MJ said, leaning her back against the shelf

“Not much” I mumbled still thumbing my way through the row of books “You finish the test early too?”

“Of course” MJ said “I bet Pete's still not even halfway done”

I laughed and agreed with her, selecting a book about Grace Hopper, a computer scientist in the Navy, figuring that would be the closest thing to my interests considering who my fathers were. I loved to read, don't get me wrong, but I much prefer fiction over nonfiction. MJ followed me to the checkout station and helpfully held my textbooks while I searched through my bag for the library card.

“Woah.” MJ whispered, nudging me in the side “Dude look at what just walked through the door”

I glanced in the direction my best friend was frantically gesturing toward and my jaw dropped. There, alongside our assistant principal, stood two incredibly handsome boys. Definitely seniors, they had to be. The blond was tall, muscular and had obviously long hair even if it was pulled into a man bun. The second also had long hair, but it was black as onyx. You could tell they were new here, the blond looking around in confusion and the raven haired one looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

“Hurry up girls” the librarian snapped her fingers at us, “Bell is about to ring”

We stopped gawking at the new kids and I checked out my book. We had to pass by them as we made our way to the door and I locked eyes with the dark haired one. His green eyes squinted as he saw me, as if he was trying to read me.

“Hi” I said politely, slightly blushing at the feeling of him looking me over.

“Hello.” he replied and I was taken aback by his accent

MJ pushed me forward and out the door just as the bell rang and we hurried to our next class. I soon forgot about the two new guys and focused on my science project.

The rest of the day carried on without event and soon the bell rung, indicating the end of school and that the weekend was finally here. I grabbed some things out of my locker and walked out of the front of the school to wait for my brother and our friends. Peter and his best friend, Ned, showed up first and I could instantly tell Peter was bothered by something.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him

“Nothing” he shrugged it off, but he still had a pout

I looked at Ned and raised my eyebrows.

“Flash was picking on him again” Ned said and Peter shot him a look

“Seriously? Peter you’ve got to learn to stick up for yourself.” I sighed

“It’s fine, Ellie, really.” Peter said as he slung his bag over his shoulder

“No it isn’t” I protested but was cut off by MJ joining us

“Did you and Ned see the new guys?” MJ asked Peter

“No?” Peter perked up at the mention of new people in the school and looked around to see if he could see them

“I did” Ned said “The blond guy is built like a brick house”

“Right?” MJ exclaimed

“Just what we need. More jocks.” I said with an eye roll “So what are we doing today?”

“The Bean Tap?” MJ suggested our favorite coffee shop

“Peter and I were going back to his place to work on the Death Star” Ned said

“Nerds” MJ wrinkled her nose

“Guess we’re on our own” I laughed

“We can go back to your place too I guess. I have math homework” MJ groaned

“Yeah, I have to start reading that book for my paper” I shrugged

I linked arms with MJ and we headed off, following the boys home. When we arrived, we went into the kitchen and Peter began searching the pantry for snacks. He threw a bag of chips and some fruit snacks on the counter and we dug in.

“Hey kids!”

My stepdad came into the kitchen. The glasses he was wearing indicated that he had spent the day down in his lab working, and the coffee cup he had that morning had been replaced with his favorite whiskey glass, which was empty.

“Hey Dad” Peter said with a mouthful of fruit snacks

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair and went over to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself another drink. He took a sip, peering over the glass at us.

“How was school?” he asked

“Fine”

“The usual”

“Lame”

“It was school”

Tony chuckled at our responses, taking another sip.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked, noticing that it was pretty quiet in the house

“Oh..well..” Tony swallowed another gulp “Steve had to go to work honey”

“Woook? He dint see bah?” Peter said

“Swallow your food, then speak, Pete” Tony said “No, this was an emergency. He had to leave quickly, but told me to give you both a hug and kiss. He’ll call when he lands”

“Lands? He had to go overseas?”

I became worried, since my dad was technically retired from the military, he still had enough rank and status that if the US Army ever needed something, they’d call him in.. He tried to stay home as much as he could to raise Peter and I but when the country had a devastating event he’d be the first one there to help. The last time they needed him was when Hurricane Maria hit and he went to Puerto Rico to help with disaster relief. There hadn’t been any major storms recently, and no terrorist attacks that I knew of, so it was alarming that he’d take off without giving us notice.

“It’s top secret Government stuff” Tony shrugged before coming over and placing a kiss on my forehead “It’ll be ok and he’ll be home soon”

I gave Tony a hug and he turned to go back down to the lab. I suddenly remembered something.

“Crap.”

“What?” Tony turned back around

“Daddy was supposed to take me to my drivers test on Monday” I pouted “Can you take me? Please?”

“I’ll see if Happy is available.” Tony nodded and left the room

Tony hated to drive anywhere unless he really wanted to, and didn’t really do much of the parenting if he could help it. He was a great dad, don’t get me wrong, but he was the fun dad. My dad, Steve, was always the one to attend the PTO meetings, chaperone field trips, take Peter and I to the doctor, anything that required an adult. Tony would leave the adulting up to his assistant, Pepper, or his driver, Happy. Happy wasn’t always “happy” to take care of us kids, but he did it because he got paid to. Pepper was always thrilled to spend time with us because Tony usually had her running all over the place doing ridiculous errands.

Later that night I was in my room, curled up in the white saucer chair, reading the biography book I had gotten at the library. I couldn’t focus on the book because my mind was on my dad. Where was he going that he hadn’t landed and called me yet? What was so “top secret” that he couldn’t tell Tony what was going on? Although my dad and I butt heads sometimes, we’re very close. He’s always been there for me and before Tony and Peter came into our lives, we were all each other had. Sure I was only four when he and Tony met and got married, but for those first four years it was just my dad and I. With him being military, I was always on edge worrying about him when he was away. One of the last tours he went on was a few years after September 11th and I made myself so physically sick worrying about him that he had chosen early retirement instead of furthering his career.

I put my book down and began to gather the week’s dirty laundry from my hamper and went down to the laundry room. I started the load and wandered the house, looking for a snack and another human. Ned was spending the night so I knew Peter was busy and MJ had gone home for dinner so I wandered down to the lab to find Tony still hard at work on his latest creation.

“Hey” I said

“Hey kiddo” Tony said, not even looking up from the computer screen

“Have you heard from Dad yet?” I asked as I perched myself on the stool next to Tony

‘Not yet, honey. He’ll call when he can, I promise”

“Yeah, I’m sure he will.” I sighed, looking at my phone for the hundredth time

I sat and watched Tony work on the robot he was building, like I always did. I never really understood the science behind it all, but I spent many hours just sitting in Tony’s lab watching him. He always had classic rock music playing and I’d often dance and sing around the lab as he worked. He never really paid attention to Peter and I when we were down there, as long as we didn’t touch anything, but we knew he liked the company.

I knew Tony would be working late into the night like he always did, so after bringing him another glass of whiskey, I made my way back upstairs. I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and laid down in bed but I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I stared at the ceiling and checked my phone every few minutes, hoping my dad would call. He never did and I eventually drifted off to sleep.

#Steve Rogers #Tony Stark #Peter Parker #Superfamily #Avengers AU #fan fiction #rated: teen

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