#happy another Thursday without the wives
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My family home was supposed to be in the safe zone in southern Gaza. But last week the bombs came anyway, without warning. They fell at around 10 o’clock on Thursday morning in four or five big explosions. An entire residential quarter of the Khan Yunis refugee camp, where I was born and raised, was reduced to rubble. Everyone there experienced it as an earthquake; a human-made earthquake. The whole camp was shaking.
I’ve counted 49 dead – among them are 36 members of my family. Another dozen or more are still missing under the rubble of eight homes, I’m told, and more than 100 are injured.
I now reside in Canada but my family home still stands in that same Khan Yunis camp, metres away from where the bombs fell, and it is where much of my extended family still live. This home is all we have left from our late parents and grandparents after they were driven out of Beit Daras village and into the Gaza Strip during the 1948 Nakba – the mass expulsion of Palestinians. Thousands of people were forced to leave our village back then and many made their way to Khan Yunis. Initially intended as a temporary stop until they could return to their homes, families from Beit Daras preferred to live in close proximity to one another. Over time, this temporary arrangement evolved into an enduring one.
These homes were packed with additional people who had fled from the Israeli bombardment of Gaza City when the bombs started to fall – one family to each room. I want to tell you about some of the lives cut short.
Two-year-old Julia Abu Hussein, my sister’s granddaughter, was in the living room of my family home eagerly awaiting the arrival of my niece, Rasha, to take her to the shop to buy sweets. When the first bombs fell, Julia’s mother, Rawan, grabbed her daughter and ran into the kitchen with the rest of the family. But a piece of shrapnel blasted into the kitchen and killed Julia in her mother’s arms.
Just two weeks ago, Julia’s parents – my nephew Amjad and his wife, Rawan –followed the Israeli military’s orders to get out of Gaza City, leaving their home and moving south in search of safety. Together with my sister’s family, it took them three days to travel less than 20 miles to Khan Yunis – for three days we believed they were dead. It’s 2023 but it’s like we woke up to 1948. People running again in search for safety. When they arrived in the “safe zone” they realised that no place in the Gaza Strip was actually safe.
My 79-year-old great-uncle, Nayif Abu Shammala, a retired teacher, and his wife, Fathiya, were among the survivors of the Nakba. They lived right across from us and died there under the bombs. Their three daughters and four sons were killed, too.
When she was young, one of them, Aisha, was known as the cutest face in the camp. She was one of those people who radiated happiness. Her sister Dawlat had been living in the UAE and was on a visit home to see her family when the bombs fell. She leaves behind two children and a husband who did not even get the chance to bid her a final farewell. The youngest of the sisters, Umaima, and her daughter Malak had also fled the bombardment in the north. But the bombs caught up with them anyway.
Nayif and Fathiya’s sons – Zuhair, Hassan, Mahmoud and Mohammed – all died alongside their wives. The lives of Hassan’s three children were sacrificed to the bombs as well. These children are not distant strangers; they were beautiful souls I knew well. Children whose character-filled faces I can still see. Children who told me of their dreams for the lives ahead of them. All now ground into the dust.
Why did Israel kill them? The family has no political affiliations. Nothing can justify this heinous crime of killing three generations unless being Palestinian is the crime.
My great-aunt, Um Said, lived a long life, at least. She was 92 and was at home with her daughter, Najat, when the bombs fell. They both now find their resting place under the rubble.
Last summer while I visited Gaza, Um Said kindly gave me an embroidered dress that she once wore. She insisted that I take it back to Canada with me. I am grateful that I did. It’s all that I have left to remember her by.
I am struggling to find new ways of describing death – gone, taken, dead, under the rubble, their souls in heaven. The Israeli propaganda machine tells me that they aren’t dead at all because Palestinians must be lying about the numbers of deaths even as we mourn. Or, if they are indeed dead, then they must be “terrorists”.
In truth, the list of dead innocents is so long and so painful. So many children. So many who led good lives. Um Said’s daughter-in-law, Suhaila, was a teacher. So was Imtiyaz, the wife of Asa’ad, my first cousin once removed, who ran a small grocery shop that was a favourite place for my own son, Aziz, to visit when we returned to our homeland.
Asa’ad was known throughout the Khan Yunis camp as a gentle soul who sold goods for little money. He kept a thick ledger of the names of people who owed him payment but often forgot to call in his debts or he simply wrote them off. His beaming face, his shop, his kindness and his family were all stolen from us in broad daylight. When the bombs fell, Asa’ad’s shop was packed. I counted at least six children who died there. Asa’ad’s sons, Hussein and Abdelrahman, a third year medical student, were among the dead.
I want to ask President Biden why he supports this. Does he believe that the pain of an Israeli mother is different from that of a Palestinian mother? Is her blood more valuable than the blood of those in Gaza? This is the only explanation that I can find for what Biden is encouraging in Gaza.
Surviving family members send me pictures from Khan Yunis. Of Julia’s bloody body wrapped in a white sheet and carried by my cousin Jameel. Of destroyed homes. This is just one small slice of the suffering being served up in Gaza. I understand that in a war civilians die. But this is a pattern. Israel talks of Hamas-run schools and Hamas-run hospitals to continue the dehumanisation of Palestinians and to set the stage for more crimes. It’s just an excuse to kill more civilians. This is targeting the very existence of the Palestinians. To me, this is genocide.
-- "From my hometown in Gaza, the unthinkable news: 36 of my family members are dead" by Ghada Ageel for The Guardian, 1 Nov 2023
Ghada Ageel is a third-generation Palestinian refugee who worked as a translator for the Guardian in Gaza from 2000 to 2006.
You can read more about the human lives lost in Palestine on the Martyrs of Gaza Twitter account and on my blog.
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dance me to the end of love (v)
word count: 4.6k
warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of poor parenting and damaged familial relationships
series masterpost: here
a/n: and just like that we're halfway through!!! it's crazy to think about it. however, lots happens in this chapter so buckle up peeps
Soon Magdalene’s feelings are going to get the better of her.
She knows she’s heading down a dangerous path but she can’t help it. Ryan is like a drug she can’t get enough of even though she knows it will hurt her in the long run. Living with him has opened her up to the laid back, intelligent, incredibly funny man he is and Magdalene doesn’t know how she’s ever going to function in her own space ever again. They complement each other like two peas in a pod, and everyone else is starting to catch on to the shift in their relationship.
“When are you going to fess up to Ryan about your feelings?” Bette asks as the two of them sit on the lawn across from the university library. It’s mid October, but the weather is still warm enough that Magdalene eats her lunch outside. Her best friend decided to join her today, no doubt knowing that she’s feeling a little lonely. The Avalanche are in the middle of their season opening road trip and have been gone for nearly five days. Ryan’s condo feels empty without him in it, and Magdalene misses him an unfathomable amount.
“Never, if I can help it,” she replies casually, taking a bite of the turkey wrap that Bette brought her from Barn Owl.
The blonde scoffs. “Fuck off. You have to. What are you going to do when he gets back from Florida and you tackle him as soon as he steps through the door.”
“Caligula will get there first,” Magdalene shrugs. “Those two are thick as thieves.”
Truthfully, Magdalene wasn’t sure what she was going to do. This is the longest they’ve been separated since she moved in and it’s proving to be a harder adjustment than she thought. Magdalene feels a little silly missing him so much – she went nearly twenty-six years without knowing Ryan but now he’s imprinted on her soul for the rest of eternity. Living without him seems impossible.
Bette drops the conversation then, almost as if she knows Magdalene is in her own world thinking about what to do. She mentions the upcoming home opener and her plans to attend with a couple of the other wives and girlfriends. “We’re going out beforehand and you should join us! I really think you’d like most of them.”
The bell in the clock tower rings, signalling the start of another hour, and Magdalene promises she’ll consider the offer as they pack up the picnic and say goodbye. It’s a short walk back to the building she works in, seeing as they were only across the street, but it takes a while for the elevator to come around. Magdalene could have taken the stairs down to the basement but they scare her a lot more than she’d like to admit. Hopefully June won’t mind her being a few minutes late.
Her boss doesn’t look too pleased when Magdalene strolls through the door almost seven minutes later then she should have, but as soon as she tosses the cookie Bette brought her in June’s direction all is forgiven. They work in near silence all afternoon, background noise provided by the small stereo in the corner and their respective grunts of frustration when an image doesn’t digitize properly. The university has finally decided to undertake the massive project of making all their school records available to the public online, and Magdalene and June are in charge of getting all the files ready before sending them to IT for installation into the website. It’s a huge task and is going to take them the better part of a month and a half to finish. Magdalene spends the rest of her work day finishing up a box of graduation records from the 1870s and leaves smelling of very old paper.
On the drive home she considers the invitation Bette extended to her. Magdalene knows she’ll be attending the game, having promised Ryan before he left that she’d be there, but she doesn’t know how to feel about going out for dinner and drink beforehand – especially with people so involved with the team. She isn’t like them, in nearly every sense of the phrase, and doesn’t want people to get the wrong idea. It wouldn’t be fair to Ryan for people to assume they’re together in case he ever does want to bring someone around, but Magdalene can’t help thinking that the speculation wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps it would be the clue that shows him how she feels.
The invite stays in the back of her brain while she heats up leftovers and eats quickly, knowing that Ryan will call soon. He’s like clockwork with his precise game day routine, and he always calls shortly after four o’clock when out east. Magdalene’s phone buzzes from the spot beside her on the couch and she quickly scoops it up and accepts the call.
“Hey,” she says, a little breathless because she’s so excited to talk to him.
“Hey yourself. How was work?” Magdalene can tell Ryan’s got a smile on his face even though she can’t see him. She indulges the question, telling him all about the stuff she digitized and what’s next. Though she always tries to get out of talking about work, fearing it will bore the daylights out of him, Ryan insists on hearing every detail Magdalene wants to share. He finds it all fascinating and tells her so every chance he gets. During her monologue Caligula wanders over and becomes extremely invested after he hears Ryan laugh at something Magdalene said. The small white cat jumps onto Magdalene’s lap and tries to paw the phone away from her ear.
“Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker. Little boots would like to talk.”
At the sound of Ryan’s greeting, Caligula starts meowing up a storm. It’s as though he’s actually holding a conversation with the man, waiting for Ryan to say something before he continues to make noise. Magdalene laughs through what could barely classify as a conversation until the cat gives her space to talk again.
“So,” she says, drawing out the word in an attempt to make Ryan laugh. “Bette asked me to join her and some of the other girls for drinks before Friday’s game.”
Ryan’s responding before Magdalene has finished uttering the last words. “That’s great! I think you should go.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, “It would be nice for you to know someone other than Bette.”
Magdalene is surprised at the response, but tries her hardest to keep her tone light and teasing. “Why, you plan on keeping me around Mr. Graves?” She can tell Ryan is struggling to come up with an answer because there’s a fair amount of sputtering on the other end of the line.
“I’d be stupid to let you go.”
All the breath in Magdalene’s lungs escapes her. She didn’t expect him to say something like that, and it sends her mind reeling. What does he mean? Unable to process the comment, Magdalene makes up an excuse and hangs up as quickly as possible. She spends the rest of the night wondering if Ryan was trying to make a move and deciding how she should handle his homecoming in a few days.
☼☼☼☼
When Ryan gets home Thursday morning Magdalene is at work. Caligula is happy to see him, practically pouncing on him and purring so loud Ryan’s sure the neighbours heard the cat. For an animal so small, Caligula can make a lot of noise if he wants.
“Hi boy,” Ryan coos, adjusting his grip on the cat so he doesn’t get dropped while the two of them move around the house. “Did your mom talk about me while I was gone? Been thinking about her a lot lately.”
The cat doesn’t respond, of course, but Ryan finds comfort in vocalizing his emotions. Multiple times on the road trip Tyson made fun of him for the silent pining he’s found himself participating in since Magdalene moved in, and hinted that she might have said something to Bette. Neither of them are great at keeping secrets, but Ryan also knows they want him and Magdalene to get together and aren’t above manipulation to achieve their goals. He doesn’t know how Magdalene actually feels, but Ryan isn’t willing to risk losing their friendship. Just a couple of months ago she sat on the deck of the lake house and told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship – he has to assume that’s still her position because if he doesn’t Ryan isn’t quite sure what he’ll unleash. Though the two of them are close, closer than most friends, Magdalene stills keeps a lot of things to herself and Ryan doesn’t want to pry. When, and if, she’s ready he knows she’ll come to him.
Exhausted from the countless hours of travel he’s endured over the past few days and the pains that come along with being a professional athlete, Ryan falls back onto the couch cushions. He hurts in places he didn’t know existed and wants to do nothing but sleep. Caligula settles into his stomach, purring contently, and though he knows he should unpack his gear, Ryan can’t find the energy to move himself or the cat. Everything will still be there when he wakes up, and hopefully Magdalene will be on her way home. She texted Ryan earlier in the morning, no doubt just before she headed out the door, to say that she was taking some holidays to have a long weekend and would be home around noon. Sleep comes easy with Caligula nestled against his body, and Ryan dreams of Magdalene as he frequently does.
☼☼☼☼
Despite Bette telling her countless times she shouldn’t be, Magdalene is nervous. The significant others of the Colorado Avalanche are a tight knit group and are very particular with who they let in. Magdalene is a nothing, has no true connections to the team besides being Tyson’s girlfriend’s best friend, and she’s worried she won’t make the cut. If it wasn’t for Bette picking her up in the morning Magdalene would have found a way to get out of drinks, but the blonde made sure she couldn’t make a run for it.
Sitting in the elevated booth, she not-so-casually sips her glass of wine while Bette tries to calm her down. “They’re going to hate me,” she groans, lowering her head to rest it on the table.
“Shut the fuck up,” Bette counters. “You literally know most of them, and Livy will be here if you get too uncomfortable, but most of them were at EJ’s back in May.”
Magdalene can’t argue with the truth, so she rolls her eyes and finishes her drink. By the time she flags down the waiter for a refill the other girls have arrived. They take turns hugging Bette and shuffling into their seats. Magdalene feels awkward with no one acknowledging her, but she does her best to buck up and deal with it. It means a lot to Bette, and Ryan, that she’s here trying to make friends so she’ll at least make an effort.
A blonde who looks a little older than the rest addresses her first. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Mel. I think we met last season at a game.”
It takes Magdalene a second to recall the face, but then she recognizes Mel as the person who alerted her to the fight Ryan got into to defend Tyson. “Oh yeah,” she chuckles, though it’s still got a nervous quality, “You’re the one who was yelling about Ryan’s fight.”
Everyone looks at her like Magdalene had confessed to seeing a ghost. “What’s the matter?”
“No one ever calls him that,” a petite girl with tight curls explains. “We all just call him Gravy.”
“Oh.”
Magdalene isn’t sure what the comment is supposed to mean, or if it even meant anything at all, but she does her best to push it aside because Livy is trying to catch up with her. The rest of the outing goes well – Magdalene keeps quiet until someone gives an inaccurate analogy about Rome and she has to correct them. It may make her seem stuck up, but she really hates when people spread misinformation. Everyone laughs, and after that it’s hard for Magdalene to stay silent. She talks about work and college, but when someone asks about home she shuts down. Bette notices the shift in her behaviour before Magdalene’s face has even dropped, and shifts the conversation in another direction. Soon it’s a respectable time to head to the arena and they all pay their tabs, Magdalene going first and then ducking out of the bar that became crowded while they were sitting down.
The fresh air feels good against her skin, and she takes the time alone to regulate her thoughts. There’s still several hours until she can return home and cry in the shower over the mention of her family so it’s important to present a calm facade. Bette comes out slightly ahead of the other girls and checks in with her friend, but Magdalene assures her she’s okay. It was a bit of a spook, but the other girls have no idea about how fucked up her familial situation is so Magdalene can’t hold it against them. The arena is a few blocks over, so the group walks towards it at a brisk pace. Magdalene’s mind is still churning from the bar when they step inside, so she peels off from the rest of the group. Warm ups are about to start and she knows that seeing Ryan will help to calm her down, at least until they can go home and she can sequester herself away from the rest of the world.
She finds a space against the glass and strains her eyes for her new favourite number. Ryan hasn’t made it out on the ice yet, but Tyson gives her a big wave when he skates past. It takes a few seconds, though it feels like years, but Ryan eventually steps out, all long limbs and hair and dazzling smile as his teammates give him big hi-fives. Magdalene doesn’t want to intrude but she needs to spend a few moments with him to feel completely present. When he skates by she waves shyly, and Ryan doubles back once he realizes who it is.
“There’s my favourite girl!” he shouts over the crowd, making sure Magdalene can hear.
The phrase brings a smile to her face, which in turn makes Ryan light up more. “Hi Ry,” she yells back. “I just wanted to come and say hi.”
Ryan’s heart warms at her words, but he knows that’s not the only reason. He’s lived with her long enough to know that something is bothering her but he isn’t going to push. There isn’t much time to have a conversation, so Ryan takes the time to make plans for after the game. “You riding home with me?”
Magdalene nods. “Yeah. Bette picked me up this morning so I didn’t drive.”
The loud sound of sticks clapping against the ice startles them both, and it’s Ryan’s teammate’s way of getting him to refocus. Magdalene says goodbye and before Ryan heads back to the bench he flips a puck over the glass for her. She smiles brightly, and watches him skate away. On her way up the stairs she hands it to a little girl wearing a much too big Graves jersey. It makes her night, and Magdalene returns to the private box she’s watching the game from feeling much lighter than when she entered the arena.
☼☼☼☼
Later, much later, after all of Ryan’s post game media and sitting through the traffic of downtown, Magdalene opens up about what was bothering her at the arena. The two of them are curled up in Ryan’s bed buried under a mass of blankets with several pillows strewn about. It’s become a frequent place for them to spend time, and every time they lay down Magdalene rests her head on Ryan’s chest and he keeps her in place with his arms wrapped tightly around her. Magdalene’s clutching his hoodie tighter than usual, her voice small as she speaks into the darkness of the room.
“I didn’t just want to say hi earlier.”
Ryan isn’t surprised by her confession, but wants to know what caused the surprise visit. “No? What was it?”
Magdalene lift head and shifts to face him, propping herself up with an open palm. “It’s kind of stupid,” she mumbles, feeling dumb for even bringing it up. Ryan doesn’t want to know the sob story that is her past life. “But it’s mostly okay now.”
“You don’t have to tell me, and I don’t want to push, but I think getting it off your chest will help,” he whispers, feeling like talking in a normal voice could startle the girl in front of him.
He’s right – Magdalene knows it. Telling someone the truth, as much of the truth as she can share, other than Bette would do her some good. Her therapist once said Magdalene needed to work on letting people in, and she figures there’s no one better than Ryan. “One of the girls asked me about home when we were getting drinks, and it’s just a really sore subject for me. I shut down and just needed to see you to ground myself.” Ryan goes to talk, but Magdalene continues. “No one really knows, but I left for Denver as soon as I graduated high school. My parents weren’t the greatest, and I suffered a lot emotionally at home. When I told them I was leaving, they told me never to come back and we haven’t spoken since. So yeah, that’s pretty much it. And I just needed to see you to remind myself that I’m okay without my family. You’re part of my family now, the one that really matters.”
Ryan is speechless. “Oh bug,” he sighs, heart hurting for all the pain Magdalene has experienced in her life. “I’m so sorry.” He wants to scream for her, maybe even break something, but all his anger dissipates when he looks down and sees her crying. Silently, Ryan wipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb and holds Magdalene until she stops trembling. They lay in silence for a while, sitting with the weight of the confession she just made. At some point Caligula shuffles in and finds a spot at Ryan’s side that isn’t occupied by Magdalene. The three of them feel like a little family, and it’s too good for Magdalene not to do something about.
“Can I kiss you?”
She’s never been so confident while asking a question. Magdalene knows he wants to kiss Ryan, has known for a while, and after baring her soul to him it seems like an appropriate time to take the plunge. They’ve never truly been just friends and everyone around them, including themselves, knows it.
“Mags,” Ryan says in a gentle yet stern voice, “I’m not gonna kiss you. You’ve just been very vulnerable with me, which I appreciate, and though I really really want to fucking kiss you I’m going to take advantage of you like that.”
If it were possible, Magdalene’s heart would expand so much it would be close to bursting. “I promise this is what I want and that I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. So please shut the fuck up and let me kiss you.”
She leans forward to connect their lips, and it feels like a fire has been ignited in her veins. Ryan is soft and gentle with the right amount of grit to make Magdalene weak in the knees. They move in tandem, giving and taking where necessary, and by the time they pull apart for air Magdalene thinks she’ll never be able to kiss anyone other than Ryan. When he looks at her, eyes kind and glimmering with light, Magdalene is certain kissing other people is off the table.
Neither of them make an effort to talk about what just happened or what it means. Instead, Magdalene kisses him again, and again, and keeps going until she’s completely out of breath. There’s no protest from Ryan, and he looks as blissful as Magdalene feels. She rests her head on his chest again and he cards his fingers through her hair as they sit in the comfortable silence that surrounds them.
☼☼☼☼
Magdalene keeps kissing Ryan, and he keeps kissing her. It’s always in the safety of his apartment, oftentimes with Caligula in the way, but wholesome and loving and warm. They haven’t defined their relationship, and truthfully Magdalene is glad. She likes being friends with Ryan and doesn’t know how the added pressures of dating would affect them – though she might like kissing him more than just being friends.
It becomes routine for either of them to reach for a kiss before heading to the door. Magdalene gets one every time she leaves for work, and if she’s there before Ryan has to leave for games he’s pulled into her lips by his tie. It’s fun and it’s new and Magdalene never wants it to end. She keeps the secret for a couple weeks, but eventually it becomes too much to hold in and she tells Bette one Saturday when they meet for brunch at Barn Owl because the boys are away.
“I kissed Ryan.” It’s out of her mouth like a bullet, cutting through the air and ringing out. Bette is shocked, jaw dropping, only to open further when Magdalene corrects herself. “Been kissing Ryan, actually.”
“You’re fucking joking,” Bette laughs, still not one hundred percent sure Magdalene is being serious. When the brunette nods her head, she squeals in what can only be presumed as delight. “Shut up! Tell me everything!”
Magdalene indulges her friend, and spills every detail she’s willing to share. Part of her wants to keep a bit of her life with Ryan a secret so she does, but Bette is more than willing to work with the information given. She listens carefully while Magdalene talks and waits until there’s nothing more to say before diving into a long list of reasons why kissing Ryan is the best thing that’s ever happened to her friend. Magdalene isn’t sure that it’s great because Bette will always have someone to go to games with, but she is in agreement that it is one of the best choices she’s ever made. They spend the rest of the morning giggling like school girls over potential love and Magdalene heads back to Ryan’s place feeling light and airy.
☼☼☼☼
The first thing Ryan does when he comes home is kisses Magdalene. She’s sitting on the couch with Caligula on her lap reading a book, and he doesn’t even bother to drop his bags on the floor before leaning over the worn leather and connecting their lips. It feels heavenly after the days-long absence and Magdalene chases his lips when Ryan pulls away.
“I missed you.”
They’re three words that shouldn’t mean much, but coming from him they send Magdalene spiralling. He missed her? The girl who spends her days geeking out over old documents and talks to her cat? Regardless of how true the statement is she appreciates it, because Magdalene missed Ryan more than she could ever explain.
“How was the flight home?” she asks, twirling a lock of his hair around her index finger and pulling him down for another kiss. Ryan happily obliges, and kisses her until Caligula begins to meow for attention. The cat practically launches himself into Ryan’s arms as he rounds the corner to sit down next to Magdalene, and purrs loudly at being reunited with the tall man.
Ryan laughs at the animal’s antics before wrapping his spare arm around Magdalene and pulling her close. “It was fine. We hit a bit of turbulence that made it hard to sleep but I managed,” he replies, and reaches for the television remote. Magdalene hums in response, resting her head on Ryan’s shoulder and returning her attention to the book in her hands. It’s silent except for the low buzz of the television as Ryan reviews tape, but neither of them mind. Co-existing is enough for both of them, and it’s peaceful and easy. The occasional conversation occurs but they mostly do their own thing, enjoying the feeling of being together again. More than a few kisses are shared, and Magdalene eventually pries herself away from Ryan long enough to make dinner.
They stayed glued to each other until Magdalene falls asleep. Ryan doesn’t even notice when it happens, but eventually he tries to leave the couch to get a glass of water and finds dead weight on top of him in the shape of the girl he just might love. Magdalene’s snoring softly, and he’s positive there is nothing more adorable in the entire world. A glance at the clock on the wall alerts Ryan to the fact that he should go to bed too, and he begins to brainstorm how to get Magdalene into bed without waking her. She’s been exhausted lately, working extended hours, and he knows she needs all the rest she can get.
It takes a few moments to coordinate, but Ryan gets himself upright without Magdalene realizing she’s no longer using him as a pillow. Gently he scoops her into his arms and pads down the hallway, careful not to hit her ankles on the walls or door frames. Once inside her room, Ryan tucks Magdalene into bed and makes sure her phone is on the nightstand just where she likes it. She looks so content in sleep that he can’t help but lean down and press a shirt kiss to her forehead.
“Night Mags,” he whispers into the dark, wondering if she’ll wake and hear all the adoration his voice holds.
Magdalene stirs at the noise, and opens her eyes to see Ryan’s retreating figure. “Night Ry.”
It’s late, approaching two in the morning, when Magdalene’s phone starts ringing off the hook. Though Ryan has told her multiple times that she doesn’t need to turn her sound on before she goes to bed, she can never find it in her to heed his words. What if there’s an emergency somewhere and some hospital has to get a hold of her? Magdalene would never be able to forgive herself if she was too late because she slept through the incoming calls.
Despite her underlying fears of missing something important, Magdalene considers letting it go to voicemail. She’s exhausted, between the high maintenance projects at work and trying her hardest to go to every Avalanche home game she can, and if it’s urgent she’s sure the person will call again if they need her. It rings three more times before Magdalene decides to pick it up – if only to stop the incessant noise.
Not bothering to even see who’s calling at such an ungodly hour, Magdalene speaks in a sleep-laden voice that betrays what she was doing not even a minute prior. “Hello?”
Bette answers her, offering a quick but sincere apology for the time but explaining that it couldn’t wait. Magdalene groans in contempt, thinking that it most certainly could have waited a few more hours. She doesn’t voice her opinion however, instead waiting for her friend to spill whatever news was making her bounce up and down on the other side of the line.
She’s about to hang up when Bette utters a sentence Magdalene’s been waiting for but never thought she’d hear at one fifty-seven am. “I’m getting married!”
☼☼☼☼
taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlouisbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster @rapidfever @bb-nhlqueen7 (add yourself to the taglist!)
#ryan graves imagine#ryan graves x oc#ryan graves fic#colorado avalanche imagine#nhl imagine#nhl fic#hockey imagine#hockey fic#cwrites#dmtteol
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The Lesser of Two Evils
Jimmy Conway x Paulie's Daughter Reader
Just felt like writing for Jimmy... Also bc I like @yesbelladoesstuff 's man more than my own apparently 😂😝
TW: mentions of crime, mention of age gap, implied smut
Word Count: 3k
After four long years full of hard work and missing your family, college was finally over! You hadn't gone far for college, and you visited as possible, but the work load of college doesn't always allow for that. For Paulie, it was important that you get a degree, even if you didn't have a "real" job after college; he just knew you were too smart, and you knew it would make him so proud that his little girl finished college.
You moved home on a Thursday after finals and took Friday to just spend time with your dad and the rest of your immediate family, before the rest of your "family" came over for the big party on Saturday. This included Tommy, Henry, and Jimmy and all the various "uncles" your dad did business with. It was a closed circle of people.
You had been home for holidays and summers in between semesters, but towards the end of college, you really started to realize that you weren't in the loop like you used to be. Tommy had really grown into a well-respected mobster, and you respected that they may make him within the next few years. He was still hot headed as ever though. As for Henry, it seemed like he tried to hold off as long as he could, as he had always had a huge crush on you, and everyone, including Paulie, had placed bets on when you two would get together. But he had started going out with this girl named Karen. You had only met her a few times, but you had heard that she kept Henry on the straight and narrow. Good for her.
Jimmy hadn't had too much change in his life during your years at college, except that he had too younger mobsters to help him on his various jobs. He made a lot more money because of them! You never thought when you went to college that you would find yourself missing Jimmy as much as you did; of course, you had always been close with him just like you were with Tommy and Henry, but there was just something about him. He was always very cool, and his jokes were few and far between but hilarious when he told them. He had always been protective over you in a way the other two weren't, you guessed because he was older, but he also let you get away with stuff your dad would've had a heart attack over. Hell, Jimmy encouraged bad behavior.
And that's where you found yourself early Saturday afternoon: fighting off thoughts of Jimmy, and a little nervous to see him because of it.
The table is all set, covered in a black table cloth, with gold and silver decorations everywhere to celebrate your graduation. A few dishes full of your favorite foods are set out, and more will arrive as the family does.
As the family pours in, the table fills with dishes and becomes surrounded by people you've known practically your whole life. You are handed envelopes full of cash, each one thicker than the last. That's how you did presents in this business.
You wondered where the boys were... It's unusual that they didn't show up first.
After a while, Henry arrives with Karen and they greet you with the usual hugs and kisses on the cheek; you can tell Karen is still getting used to greeting people like this. "Glad you have you home, (Y/N)! Congrats!" Henry exclaims. Rather than money, they gift you with a beautiful set of jewelry. You knew Karen was good for Henry, and now you know she has good taste.
"Oooh, there she is!" Jimmy yells as he's coming in the door. Tommy and Jimmy show up right after Henry and Karen. They were likely all hanging out before coming over, but you had to wonder why they didn't just take the same car. Tommy hands you a stack of cash, like he was taught to do, giving you kisses on your cheeks and a sincere congrats for graduating. Before you can really finish up your conversation with Tommy, Jimmy is scooping you up into his arms and twirling you around playfully, earning a squeal from you. "Atta girl! We knew you could do it!" He lets you down gently and pulls you in for a proper hug. "Congratulations, (Y/N). You know everyone here is so proud of you."
As you move back into the dining room and living room to rejoin the party and visit with everyone, Jimmy's hand lingers on you: your shoulder blades, the small of your back, wrapped lightly around your hip. He had always been a bit handsy with you; it's just how you two were with one another, but today it's affecting you more than usual.
Jimmy is wrapped up in a conversation about something he's been bootlegging with one of the uncles, so you turn to him to say, "Hey Jimmy, in gonna go sit with my dad at the table, 'cause I think we're eating soon. I'll save you a seat next to me, if you want it."
"Okay, sweetie, I'll be there in a little while."
You walk away taking a deep breath to try and clear your mind. Had you always felt this way about Jimmy or had something changed?
You say next to your dad and leaned your head on his shoulder.
"Hey there, girlie! You enjoying the party? Everything okay?"
"Yeah I'm okay. It's good seeing everyone again, and knowing that I get to stay home for good this time."
Paulie puts his arms around you, squeezing you tight. He always gave the best hugs! "I'm so happy you're back home. It's been pretty lonely without my girl here... Now I'm gonna have to beat off guys with a stick to keep you here," he lets out a chuckle.
"Oh, Dad, I'm not going anywhere, and you know that. Besides, Henry went and got a girlfriend, so there goes my only shot at a boyfriend."
"Now, you know Henry wasn't your only option. What about Tommy?"
You both look across the room to see Tommy flirting with someone's daughter...
"Ehhh, no," you and your dad say in unison before having a big laugh together.
"Is this seat taken?"
You look over your shoulder to see Jimmy standing behind the chair next to you, "Reserved for you."
"Oh, good!" Jimmy takes a moment to say hello to Paulie before sitting down next to you.
Paulie stands up to announce that it's time to eat, but first he makes a small speech to let everyone know how proud he is of you for finishing college, and that you were always too bright and talented to belong to him.
While Paulie is standing at the head of the table, Jimmy reaches over to your lap under the table and takes your hand in his. You look at him, trying to hide that he's affected you in any way. He gives you a small smirk, and rubs his thumb over yours for just a moment before letting your hand go.
Paulie takes his seat, and people start spooning food out of dishes and into their plates, and you're left wondering what just happened and what was meant by it.
Luckily, the rest of dinner was pretty uneventful, and the food was always so tasty. After everyone got their bellies full, everyone mingled wherever they liked around the house. Some went into the backyard to get a small bonfire going so some of the kids could have roasted marshmallows; some of the guys started inside the house and started pulling out cards and chips and stacks of money; many of the wives gather in the kitchen or the living room to talk all the latest gossip.
You notice Tommy, Jimmy, Henry, and Karen taking lowly and giggling with one another in a small circle. Normally they would've invited you over, so there's definitely something suspicious going on.
"(Y/N)!" Paulie says, waving you over, "come here, kiddo."
"Dad, I just finished college; I'm not really a kid anymore!" You give him a laugh and walk over to him.
He puts an arm over your shoulders and says, "Well, you'll always be my kid." He pauses for a moment before looking across the room and yelling, "Conway!"
The room quiets down, waiting for Jimmy's response. All of the guys and Karen turn to you and your dad. "Yes, Paulie?" Jimmy says with a smug look on his face.
"When you came in here, I didn't see you give my little girl any presents for her graduation. No cash, no cute little boxes with bows. What's the matter with you?" Paulie voice is raised so everyone can hear him. This is very odd behavior, as he normally handles things pretty quietly, so you know something is up.
"Well, ya see, Paulie..." Jimmy starts walking towards you, "I didn't hand her any envelope full of 50s, and I didn't give her any boxes with bows, because what I got for her was too big to fit through the front door." Jimmy lowers his voice to a whisper now that he's in front of you. "You wanna go see your present?"
You now realize that your dad and the guys are all in on some kind of surprise.
"Yes, please."
That's all Jimmy needs to hear before he's picking you up to take you outside. Henry and Tommy rush to the door to open it, and everyone that heard what was going on follows you outside to see what the surprise is.
You and Jimmy can't stop giggling while there are lots of hoots and hollers from everyone gathering outside with you. Jimmy lets you down and spins you around so you're facing the driveway. Sitting there is a beautiful black muscle car with a big gold bow on the hood.
He wraps his arms around your waist and whispers in your ear, "You like it, princess?"
"I- uh... yes," you can barely get a response out; you certainly weren't expecting this. Jimmy was all about handing out money and giving expensive gifts, but nothing like this... He didn't like to do anything that would put this kind of attention on him.
"It's the one you said you wanted right?"
"Yes, Jimmy. It's perfect," you say with a huge smile as you turn to hug him. "Thank you so much!"
"Anything for you, (Y/N)." Jimmy pulls a key out of his pocket and hands it to you. You take it from him and run over to unlock the car and climb in. Immediately, Tommy climbs in the front seat next you you and is shouting, "C'mon! Let's take this thing on a spin!!" Henry and Karen climb in the back seat and Henry only starts egging you on saying, "Let's crank this thing up and get outta here, (Y/N)!"
"Okay, okay! We'll drive it, but only if Jimmy comes too. He paid for the thing after all!"
"Jimmy! Get your ass over here!" Tommy yells before climbing in the back seat with Henry and Karen.
Jimmy runs over and gets in the passenger seat next you you. "Try not to kill us, okay?"
You turn the key in the ignition and the engine fires up loudly, which gets Henry and Tommy rowdy in the back seat. All the people in the front yard were raising their glasses and cheering as you backed out of the driveway! Before driving away from the house, you slowed down and Jimmy rolled down his window so Paulie could pop his head in.
"You guys be careful, and don't let anything happen to that one right there," he says pointing to you.
"Hell, Paulie, she's the one you gotta worry about!" Henry pipes up getting a laugh out of everyone.
"Yeah, well..." he chuckles, knowing it's true and realizing his little girl is all grown up. "Happy graduation, baby; go have fun!"
"Thank you, Dad! Love you!" you yell before driving off, a little too fast.
• • •
After you, the guys, and Karen, whom you had really grown to like, had been driving around a while, you decide to stop off at a small park while the sun sets. It's a cute little public park with a lake, a pavilion with tables for picnics, a small playground for kids (naturally the boys go and play on the playground), and lots of open space with soft grass.
With the boys being boys running around chasing each other, you and Karen get some time to talk alone.
"Seems like you've got Henry tied down pretty well. Takes a tough lady to do that."
"Yeah, well he stood me up on our second date, and so I told him off in front of his friends. We been together since."
"Oh yeah, word got back to me on that one. You had all the guys pretty shocked," you say though a laugh, "They made fun of him a good bit for it, so he must like you a lot if he put up with that."
"Yeah, I think he does." She pauses for a minute. "I've heard from some people that Henry always had a crush on you, and that everyone thought you two would end up together. I'm sorry if I got in the way of that."
"Oh, no! No need to apologize. Henry liked me when we were kids, and it feels like more of a joke now than anything. I don't think I could deal with him as well as you do," you give her a reassuring smile.
"So, you gonna give Jimmy a shot?"
"Hmm? What? You mean Jimmy and me?" You stutter out.
"Yeah, I mean, I know he's older, but it seems like he really likes you!"
"You think Jimmy likes me?"
"Well, yeah girl! He bought you ya dream car!" She says excitedly, her New York accent really shining through.
"Karen!" Henry calls from the playground.
"Whaddayou want?!"
"Come over here, honey!"
You see Jimmy walking towards you and Karen, and notice that Tommy is flirting with some poor girl who was just out for a run. Karen says a quick goodbye to you and heads over to the playground where Henry is waiting for you.
When Jimmy's feet stop in front of yours, he extends a hand to you to help you up from your spot on the grass. He places his hand on the small of your back, and his long fingers delicately begin to lead you in the direction of your new car.
"Did you have a fun time playing with your friends on the playground?" You poke a little fun at him.
"Would've had more fun if you were there," he raises his eyebrows and cracks a smile at you.
You laugh gently out your nose as you arrive at your car, "Whatcha bring me over here for?"
He takes you by the hips, lifting you up and placing you on the trunk of your car. He grabs your thighs and pulls you close to him, your knees brushing against either of his hips. "You like the car, angel?"
"Jimmy, wha-," you let out a shaky breath, "um, yes, it's beautiful."
"Mmmm, good." He brushes your hair behind your ear.
It suddenly becomes clear to you that what Karen had to say about Jimmy was true. In fact, with him standing between your legs like this, it couldn't be more obvious.
"Hey, Jimmy?"
"Yeah, baby doll?"
"Kiss me."
He raises his eyebrows, then looks at the ground for a moment. When he looks back up at you, he tangles a hand in your hair and presses his lips to yours softly at first, but he quickly deepens the kiss, exploring your mouth with his. You gently wrap one arm around his neck, and the other hand squeezes his waist through his shirt. He pulls you into him so your chest is pressed against his.
It feels weird kissing him, but it also feels right. Being with him like this feels like electricity, and you could feel like this forever and it still wouldn't be enough.
"Hey, hey, Jimmy!" Henry calls as him and Karen come up on you.
"Do not interrupt them!" You hear Karen say followed by a whap to Henry's arm.
Jimmy slowly pulls away from you, giving you probably the sweetest look you've ever seen him give. He pecks your lips a few more times before turning to Karen. "Thank you for hitting him."
You slide off the back of the car, putting your hand in Jimmy's.
"Listen, all I'm saying is, it's about time you got a kiss from her, you paid a lot of money for it!" Henry chuckles, slapping the trunk of your car.
"Listen, Henry Hill. I kiss who I want, when I want. And yes, I am grateful for the car, but Jimmy didn't buy my love," you cut your eyes at him.
"Yeah, that's right! What's the matter with you?" Karen backs you up.
Henry puts his hands up in surrender and tries to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, "Alright, alright, geez!! Can someone go get Tommy so we can go home?"
Everyone gives him a look.
"Okay, fine! I'll go get him!" Henry jogs off to go get Tommy off that girl's back.
Funny enough, the girl ends up coming home with the group, Tommy landing another girl that he won't call in the morning. So you drop everyone off at their respective homes: Tommy and his girl at Tommy's place, Henry and Karen at Henry's place, and Jimmy invited you to his place. You knew Paulie would worry about you not coming home, but it would raise his blood pressure if he knew what you and Jimmy were up to.
It was really the lesser of two evils.
#jimmy conway has my heart ❤️#jimmy conway#jimmy conway x reader#robert de niro#robert de niro x reader#goodfellas#mob wives#sort of#paulie's daughter#paulie#tommy devito#henry hill#karen#moodboard#fanfic
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Halcyon Heart
Serving you guys part 5 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ today! Oh god, I procrastinate this oneshot like you wouldn’t believe it! Honestly? I’m not too happy about this piece but the plot must keep moving.
In this oneshot, the names of Leona, Ace and Deuce’s kids will be reveal! I did my best to keep their names within the card games theme and overall, I think they turned out ok. I went with the deep meaning name for Leona’s son. Kudos to anyone who manage to figure out the meaning behind them!
This oneshot can’t begin without us thanking the great @tri3tri for her amazing Second Wive AU. Please drop by at her blog to see even more yandere!Malleus content.
-
“Well... you certainly are MC’s daughter, Renata-chan.” The headmaster sigh tiredly. Behind his mask, Crowley narrowed his eyes at the three students sitting across his desk. Said girl is at least apologetic (Crowley assumed she is, because she can barely look him in the eyes), the two boys with her - Hoyle Trappola and Rex Spade are just seconds away from passing out from sheer exhaustion, sporting scorch marks on their face, hair and uniforms.
Crowley resists pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. And to think, his day has been going on so well too. He had finally managed to complete all of his paperwork before the end of the month, the teaching staffs aren’t passive-aggressively bickering with one another for once, and the cook in the cafeteria even left the last dessert of the day just for him!
And then came Professor Crewel kicking his office’s door down, dragging three rowdy puppies behind him and a report about scorched marks on pavements and fountain due to misconduct of magic.
When Crowley leans to the side to see which students were responsible, he could only sigh. Was it too much to ask for this generation of Trappola, Spade and MC/S not to inherit their parent’s ungodly habit of getting into trouble!?
So here there are now, three students waiting for punishments. At that moment, Crowley felt as if he was transported into the past as he stares down at them.
Crowley folded his arms across his chest and said, “Professor Crewel reported your misbehaviours and the damages done. Now, what I want to know is how this happened.” Silence. “Well? Would anyone like to share the story?”
Almost instantly, the young Spade spoke up. “It’s all Hoyle’s fault!” An indignant hiss of, “Shut it, Rex!” interrupted him, but the boy ignored it and pressed on, “He dropped a food tray on MC/S-san when she was eating.”
“Oi! I told you already! It was an accident, alright!?” Young Trappola is quick to defend himself, disgruntled about the whole affair. Beside him, Renata just rolled her eyes. Despite looking so much like her father, she’s surprisingly expressive with a lit fused of a temper.
“An accident? While young Trappola did commit a mistake, does it warrant an... explosive reaction, MC/S-san?” Here, Crowley stares pointedly at the girl.
Renata sigh. “No, headmaster.”
“In the future, please restrain yourself MC/S-san. Now then, punishment.” The three of them groaned, and unimpressed, Crowley tilt his head at them. “Keep that up and I will extend your punishment to a month.”
The teenagers straighten up after that. Good. So he continues.
“The three of you will be cleaning the Hall of Mirrors starting tomorrow, right after your last class of the day. Now, because the damages are only minor, your punishment will only be for a week. If I catch any reports that the three of you misbehaving again, I will extend the punishment. Is that clear?” Crowley demanded.
“Yes, headmaster.” The three of them drone simultaneously.
And with that, Crowley dismisses them. Once the door is click shut, voices are raised outside - the three of them are bickering again - before footsteps carried them away.
The headmaster could only wordlessly shake his head. Looks like he’s in for another rough few years until these three graduated.
Just like old times.
Outside at the quiet hallway, the only noises that can be heard this evening are Hoyle’s heated complaints, Rex’s put out sighs and Renata’s outwardly annoyance (in the inside though, Hoyle’s flying food tray was a pleasant surprise. Sometimes, it’s nice not to use Observer all the time).
“Quit your complaining already, Hoyle.” Rex interjects when he could no longer tolerate his whining. “At least the headmaster didn’t expel us!”
“Yeah, yeah. And you!” Hoyle said and focused his attention on Renata. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow when he glares at her. “This is not just my fault, you know! Got anything to say about that?”
Renata nodded, her face turned serious though her lips struggle not to twitch into a cheeky grin. “Yes. Dodge better next time.”
Rex gapes at her, incredulous and certainly not expecting that comment while Hoyle bristles.
“This is going to be a long week.” Rex muttered as Renata pretend to be nonchalant when Hoyle demanded an apology.
True to his word, their week shaped up to be rather long and busy. Not only did the three of them were reprimanded by the headmaster and their Dorm Leaders, they also had piles and piles of homework and club practise on top of their punishment. By the time Thursday roll by, they were ready to collapse from exhaustion.
Tonight, Rex had to drag Hoyle by his arm as they head towards Heartslabyul’s main mirror that leads to Hall of Mirrors. A few of their dorm members watch their shenanigans with amusement while others snickered; it’s practically known throughout their dorm of their punishment.
“For fuck’s sake, Rex, lemme go! Why can’t we let Renata clean the mirrors tonight for once!?” Hoyle exclaimed, doing his best o wrestle his arm free but surprisingly, Rex is a lot stronger than he lets on.
“Do you want her to complain to the headmaster that we’re slacking off?” Rex suggests. “And extend our punishment? Look, the sooner we can finish off cleaning the Hall of Mirrors, the sooner we can have our free time again.”
“I hate that you make sense.” Hoyle grumbled but decided not to argue any further.
When they step through the mirror, they found that Renata is already there, waiting for them. Her back was facing them, and she’s currently talking to... no one.
“ - was ok. I mean, with all things considered and I didn’t use any of my spells so shut up, Cherry.” A voice - it sounds like a woman - chatter back. “It’s just cleaning the mirrors of the seven dorms, no big deal. Mm-hmm, I promise not to throw fire at people next time, Mama.” The woman - apparently, Renata’s mother - said something, but it’s muffled. “Will do, Mama. Goodnight, I love you too.”
Renata put something - not a phone. It’s too small to be one - into her blazer’s pocket and turn around.
She greets them, “What kept you guys? I already swept the floor and dusted the walls.”
“This one wanted to ditch.” Rex reply, pointing a finger at Hoyle before he grabs the mop and bucket.
“Oi! You didn’t have to tell her.” Hoyle snapped.
“Uh, did you think on how that’s going to be for you if it’s only me and Spade-san doing the cleaning?” Renata asked, looking and clearly judging how many brain cells he has.
Hoyle just told her to shut up and picks up a wet sponge from a spare bucket filled with soap to start cleaning Scarabia’s mirror.
It’s quiet as they clean up the Hall of Mirrors. As Rex mop the floor, he could see Renata focusing on her task in wiping the mirror that he and Hoyle just used. During the Entrance Ceremony, he could only catch a glimpse of her from the back of the crowd, confused as to why his seniors are mumbling and commenting about her appearance.
Only the blind couldn’t see how beautiful the girl is. If Rex is the poetic sort, he would liken the night of a full moon and stars to her. But honestly, other than her pretty face, he doesn’t understand why their seniors tend to give her a wide berth whenever she walks by.
Hell, he even noticed that her own dorm members are polite yet strangely distant with her.
Rex wonders if she’s lonely. “So, uh, you’re pretty good with magic, huh MC/S-san?” He blurted out. He surprises himself at his sudden boldness.
Thankfully Renata didn’t find it strange or awkward. “More or less. Magic always fascinated me, even when as I was a kid. I’ve been testing the limit of my magic ever since.” Pleased at herself when Heartslabyul’s mirror gleam under the bright light, she moves on to Savanaclaw’s.
“What about you, Spade-san?” Renata threw his question back.
“It’s alright, MC/S-san! You can call me Rex.”
“Ah, then please call me Renata. Since you extend the same courtesy and all.”
An easy conversation flow between them after that. Occasionally, Hoyle would join them, his brand of sarcasm or snarkiness here and there but overall, it was nice to talk to him. And when he threw a rather malicious teasing to Renata, she threw right one back. It strangely morphs into a playful banter between the three of them.
Cleaning felt less like a punishment after that.
-
When they finally reach the final day of their punishment, something happened.
While Hoyle and Rex shared the same class - 1-A - Renata is in 1-B. And it just so happen that her negligence came to bit her in the ass.
After History lesson ended for class 1-A and Hoyle was the last one to leave due to Professor Trein holding him back to talk about his recent subpar assignment, a Heartslabyul student from 1-B called him out.
“Extra assignment? This is the worst...” Hoyle sigh in dejection once he finishes reading the piece of paper given to him by the teacher. Dangling the piece of paper in low spirits, Hoyle resigned himself to many, many trips to the library so this extra assignment can boost his grade from F to a D.
So lost in his thought, he completely missed that his name being called. It was only when a student - his dorm member - grab his shoulder that he broke out from his train of thoughts.
“Hey, you’re Hoyle Trappola, right? The one that was nearly flambé alive, yeah?”
Hoyle bristle. Is that what people are calling him now? The flambé dude? Urgh, this is seriously all Renata’s fault! “What do you want?” He snaps. Unfortunately for him, the Heartslabyul student was unfazed of his bad mood.
“Listen, I need you to do something for me. I shared the same class as that Diasomnia girl, 1-B. Earlier today she left this in class.” Hoyle’s dorm member explain and showed him a plain-looking journal. “She left quickly and when I saw her at the Main Street, she was with Bakari Kingscholar. Anyway, I just thought that since you and Rex are cleaning the Hall of Mirrors with her, you can give this back.”
“Why are asking me to do it? You just said that you saw her at the Main Street!”
“Yeah and with Kingscholar. I couldn’t approach her; not when that guy glared at me and my legs froze up. So here you go!”
And with that, he shoves the journal into Hoyle’s arms, making him fumble with the paper and journal before they could drop. “Oi! I’m not doing your fucking errand - ” Hoyle shouted, but by then, his dorm member had long jog off with a cheerful wave goodbye. “Seriously... this is so not my day...”
As Hoyle made his way to the library, he absentmindedly flips through the pages of the journal. Not all care that it was rude to rummage through others’ belonging. Notes about various classes mostly filled the pages; others are just mindless doodles that the girl probably drew out of boredom.
“Isn’t there anything good in here? Something that can knock her off her high horse maybe.” Hoyle murmurs to himself as he continues to flip the pages. Rex might be willing to let it slide that it was Renata that landed them in trouble with the principle but not him. Hoyle felt that a prank would even the score between them.
By the time he scored himself a nice, quiet table in the corner of the library, he reaches to the last page of Renata’s journal. His eyes widen at the sight of a strange rune that took up the entire white page. There were even some notes written around it. “Well, well, what is this? Communication rune? This looks interesting...”
Later that night as Rex was about to step through the mirror, he felt something... not quite right. Perhaps he ate something bad during dinner. His uneasiness is not going to dampen his high spirits though. Finally, tonight is their last day of punishment! Tomorrow they’ll be free humans!
“Yo, Rex! Glad to see you show up before MC/S.”
Hoyle greets him with a wide grin, standing in the centre of the hall.
“Oh, you were here first, Hoyle? Did you start cleaning?” Rex was surprised that Hoyle actually took the initiative to start their chore before them. Rex’s heart is touched. Maybe Hoyle isn’t all that bad -
“What? Forget about cleaning, check out what I have!”
Nevermind. Rex takes it back.
Hoyle didn’t hesitate to drag the unimpressed Rex close to him and shove a piece of folded paper in between his eyes. When he unfolded it, Rex is confused. Someone had drawn a rune. Now, Rex doesn’t know all that much about runes and their inner workings, so he has no idea why Hoyle has this with him.
“What is this? Your homework?” Rex asked, his face scrunched up. “I don’t remember seeing this in class.”
Hoyle rolled his eyes. “It’s not homework. I found this in MC/S’s journal this morning and tried to checked all the books about runes and stuff in the library but nothing came up. How crazy is that!” He excitedly explains, eyes shining brightly.
Rex didn’t share his enthusiasm, however. “You stole Renata’s journal?” His eyes are wide in disbelief. He threw the piece of paper back at Hoyle who easily catch it. “Do you want her to burn you again!?”
“What she won’t know, won’t harm her. That is, if you keep this between us.” Hoyle reply, narrowing his eyes at Rex in a threatening manner.
Rex just throws his hands up in exasperation. “She’s going to find out when she realised that her journal is missing! Look, just put put that thing back and - ”
“Hell no. I want to test this out. Aren’t you curious too?” Hoyle demanded, and that’s when Rex notices that he has a marker pen in his other hand. “And beside, I’ll give the journal back to her once we find out what this rune does.” He then walks around him towards the Heartslabyul mirror and starts drawing.
“W-Wait! It’s against the rule - ” Rex stammers out, but Hoyle quickly interrupts him.
“Rule 809: One should not vandalise Heartslabyul’s mirror. Yeah, yeah, I remember. But this - ” Hoyle stops drawing to gesture at the marker pen in his hand “ - is not a permanent. So I’m not technically breaking any rules if I can just clean it up later.” He answered with a nonchalant shrug.
Rex paused to ponder. Well, Hoyle put it that way... More than that, Rex is baffled that Hoyle remembers that particular rule of their dorm.
“Done!” Hoyle huff proudly before taking a step back to admire his handiwork. He briefly glances at the paper and then back to the mirror - it’s a perfect copy. The two boys watch as the surface of the mirror ripple once before the rune vanishes, and the mirror becomes pitch black.
“Whoa... I’ve never seen any mirror in Night Raven College look black before.” Rex said in awe. He gently and carefully presses his fingers on the surface, and it pushes through. “It feels like any other enchanted mirrors though.”
“It’s not suppose to lead anywhere. According to the notes, it’s a communication rune.” Hoyle explains. “But there’s no such thing as communication runes so this must be something that MC/S came up.”
Rex’s eyes widen at Hoyle’s theory. Runes are notoriously one of the hardest subjects ever in all of Twisted Wonderland. She mentioned that she’s been experimenting with magic, but Rex didn’t expect that she could do something like this!
Suddenly, Rex’s awe quickly turns to horror when something yanks his fingers into the mirror.
“What the - ”
“Rex!” Hoyle shouted and grabbed his arm to pull his back. Rex’s arm is inside of the black mirror! A powerful tug completely yanks the two of them into the mirror and the surface return to normal.
The next thing they realise is that they’re now in the mirror.
And that’s how Renata found them; a piece of paper with her rune on it and rex and Hoyle pounding furiously from the inside of the mirror and screaming at her to get them out.
“For fuck’s sake you guys - ”
Needless to say, the three of them are in for a long night.
-
“So you finally decide to show up? You kept me waiting for an hour. I love to hear your excuse - why do you look like shit?”
“Shut up, Kingscholar. I don’t want to hear it from you.”
“...Right. Any reason why there’s Heartslabyul students in my mirror then?”
“Whoa, so this is how it looks like inside of the Savanaclaw dorm!”
“I, uh, didn’t expect that you like to do homeworks in, uh, Kingscholar’s bedroom, Renata-san.”
Bakari glares at Renata who just look tired and supporting heavy, black eye bags. The girl in question refused to look at him.
-
And there we go! This is the start to Renata, Hoyle and Rex glorious friendship and shenanigans. Their friendships mirrored their parents except the kids are lot stronger; magically-wise. I’m fleshing out their characters and Unique Magic as we go along the series but so far, I have a pretty good idea how I want them to turn out.
#twisted wonderland#fanfic#Draconia Family series#Second Wive AU#tri3tri#Renata Draconia#Hoyle Trappola#Rex Spade#Bakari Kingscholar
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Henry Compilation
@perplexistan is an outstanding human who compiled all my little Henry ficlets into one document for me. So here it is, for your perusal. It all began with this:
Anonymous asked: Would scully consider remarrying if she wouldn't work it out with mulder in season 11? ;)
@kateyes224
As long as Mulder is around, I don’t know that she’d be willing to start from scratch. But that makes me very sad for Scully. If she and Mulder did decide that they couldn’t be together, I would want for her to find someone who loved and appreciated her and made her feel completed, even if that person wasn’t Mulder. I just think the ways that she and Mulder have been rent apart by this life mean that their torn edges fit together in a way that makes them as whole as they can possibly be.
AV:
She gets the younger two out the door in time for the bus, backpacks bouncing as they run down the block. Their sister had left well over an hour ago, driving herself to school for early lacrosse practice. Scully shuts the door once Alice and Simon join the cluster of children trooping along the sidewalk. Everyone knows there is safety in numbers.
The dog, a half-grown keeshond, trots over in response to the breakfast noises. “Here, Wicket,” Scully says. “It’ll make your coat shiny.” She scrapes leftover eggs into his dish before fitting the greasy plates into the dishwasher.
Footsteps on the stairs, and Scully smooths her hair back.
“Morning,” Henry says, grabbing a nectarine from the bowl. He wears only striped pajama pants. “Thanks for getting them out the door.”
“Mmm, not a problem. You almost never get to sleep in.” She smiles, tips her face up to his.
He kisses her, and Scully tastes toothpaste and Listerine. “You’re an angel,” Henry claims.
Not me, she thinks. But Joan is. Henry’s first wife, the mother of his children, the lover of keeshonds, the gardener of exotic bulbs, is dead and beyond reproach. Scully finds her harmless, though occasionally irritating. The children find her flawless.
Henry pours them each a cup of coffee, fixes hers exactly how she likes. Scully settles onto a bar stool to savor it.
“Good?” he asks.
“Perfect.”
Henry beams.
She watches her husband as he putters around the kitchen, dumping coffee grounds into the composter, putting frozen fruit into the Vitamix. His back is broad and muscular in the buttery morning light, his silver-flecked hair gleaming.
“You eat?” he asks, after his smoothie has been whirred to perfection.
“Eggs with the kids.”
“They love you,” he says happily, if not accurately. “Can you believe we’re coming up on a year, Dana?”
She cannot. The wedding had been small. Quiet. Family attended, some of their friends from work. Joan’s parents, uncomfortably.
Mulder had sent flowers for her, gifts for the children.
Scully takes another swallow of coffee. “Paper anniversary, Henry. Hot date at Barnes and Noble?”
He walks over, wraps his arms around her from behind. Scully leans into the heat of his chest, her head on his bicep. She sighs with contentment as he noses her hair.
“I was thinking plane tickets,” Henry murmurs, nuzzling her neck. “Paris. Rome. Somewhere decadent. Between work and the kids you’re running yourself absolutely ragged, Dana. Joan’s parents can take the younger two, and Vivian can stay home by herself if she wants.”
Paris. All she has seen of Paris is the airport, eating overpriced pain au chocolat while Mulder argued with the ticket agent in his lousy French. They barely made their flight.
“Paris,” Scully muses. “I could do Paris.”
“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” Henry asks, purring in her ear.
She rolls her eyes. “So predictable.”
“I’m a tax attorney, Dana. I’m supposed to be predictable.”
She laughs a little. Predictable. Solid, predictable Henry with his beautiful children and his beautiful house and his beautiful wives. She has never heard him say a truly unkind thing about anyone. He is a charter Rotarian and a sucker for the wounded animals Simon brings home. He’s been unfailingly gracious to Mulder on the few occasions they’ve met. He’s a wonderful dancer.
“Predictable is good,” she assures him. Henry would never ditch her in strange motels or mix her up in a global conspiracy. Henry calls when he’s running late.
“You have time for a run before work?” he asks.
“I wish I did. I’ve got a consult with a family in about an hour.” Scully turns the bar stool, looking up at Henry’s green eyes. She takes his face in her hands, thumbing his jaw. “Paris sounds lovely. I’ll talk to Gwen about my schedule today.”
He kisses her palm. “You deserve Paris.”
Scully holds him close and doesn’t tell him how rarely anyone gets what they deserve.
***
From @mangokiwitropicalswirl
[I could NOT stop thinking about your short brilliant painful take on Scully’s marriage to Henry, and I woke up needing to write this. If you think it fits your vision of things in that universe, feel free to share!]
***
Note from AV: There are not WORDS to describe what a compliment this is, my goodness. <3 Thank you, @mangokiwitropicalswirl
***
On the morning Scully marries him, she takes a long look in the mirror as she smooths her hair and touches up her makeup. It goes without saying, without thinking, that she wishes her mother were here. Maggie would have cried to see her in the ivory dress, would have coddled the step-grandchildren, would have joined her elbows-deep in topsoil in his garden.
Everyone believes the day that you get married you’ll feel uniquely whole, blissfully free from uncertainties. Happy.
And she is. She catches her own gaze in the mirror and knows that she’s the only one who’d see the wistful mote of resignation in her eyes. But not a resignation of defeat, it’s one of understanding. She better understands at fifty now than she did at thirty that there are choices. Always choices.
Someone told her once that love flows through us like water, softening our edges the way water wears down sandstone, or even granite. It carves out space for itself inside of us, making us larger, widening the heart.
Mulder’s love had been a tumult, a raging river, a flood. It had opened her like a canyon, revealed a grandscape of dizzying heights and crevices inside her. It had split over into corners she herself had not explored. Together, their love had flowed and thrashed and roiled, until she was hollowed out like a deepend cavern, like a riverbank destroyed by sudden flood.
And then it had receded, slowly, like the bitter end of a geologic age.
The thin ribbon that still trickles through her even now was not enough to fill the newly-barren spaces. As years went on, the heart crumbled like loose rock, eroding like a monument to a long forgotten era.
Contrary to popular belief, love is not all you need. Sometimes you need therapy. And meds. And sometimes you need to let it go.
On the little card that came along with flowers there was just one word, “Always.– M”.
There were years she would have bristled at the word, hearing in it all the codependency and desperate possession that were the hallmarks of their bond. But she hears it now the way she knows he means it, with the openness of someone who will always be her friend. Before all of it, at the very heart of it, he had been her dearest friend.
When Henry came into her life, it crept up on her like the warm waters of a bending river. His love curled and soothed and nourished until she felt green and young.
In the mirror, she smiles the half-smile of a woman blessed to find there’s more of her to give. And more to know. She dabs perfume on each wrist and behind her ears, between the shadowed valley of her breasts. Beneath them in the hollow of her chest, she’s wider now and knowing, surprised and grateful she is able to bloom again.
***
Anonymous asked: So even though Scully and Henry have this perfect life, which I love, what kind of things do they fight about? Is Scully relieved it's not about conspiracy or monsters in the dark? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? Also, I love Mulder dearly but Henry is kind of perfect....which is a little scary but awesome at the same time.
They really don’t fight much. They disagree (Henry’s a bit more liberal than Scully) they annoy each other on occasion (he constantly fails to put his laundry in the hamper and she moves all the papers he leaves on the kitchen island) but fights? No, no fights.
N.B. Before anyone messages me to say how boring that sounds, let me explain that I have been with my husband for upwards of 17 years. In that time, we have had 2 fights. Like, ugly unpleasant ones. Lots of arguments and disagreements, but two fights. Our relationship isn’t boring, and I refuse to even entertain the validity of the notion that relationships need drama to be exciting.
One of the things I love best about Iolokus is that Rivka and Sally show Mulder and Scully figuring that out, that conflict isn’t necessary for intellectual stimulation.
***
Anonymous asked: So I know Mulder and Henry aren't hanging out playing poker together every Thursday night, but are there any occasions where they do find themselves in the same room? What was that first size-up like from either guy's perspective?
Scully has scheduled the dinner at a restaurant so it isn’t on anyone’s turf. Besides, Mulder’s house would be torture and she finds Henry’s elaborate kitchen somewhat daunting. She agonizes over reviews and menus, trying to eliminate as many variables as possible. Henry had tried to help, but her snippiness drove him off in short order. She is nauseous for a week beforehand, asking Henry if she had lost her mind and should cancel, asking Mulder the same.
“I want to meet him,” Henry says, passing her a glass of wine. “He’s part of you, so he’s important to me.”
“If this is to get my blessing, Scully,” Mulder says over the phone, “you already have it. But yeah, I’d like to meet the guy wonderful enough for you to ignore the fact that his job title contains the words tax and attorney.”
***
She puts on a black sheath dress, then decides it looks too much like the one from their movie premiere. My god, the movie…has Henry seen it? Or Viv? She is afraid to ask, and afraid not to know. She pushes the thought from her mind for now, pushes her and Mulder and that limo away. Scully rummages through her closet with increasing anxiety, finally settling on a burgundy pencil skirt and fitted navy sweater. Her hair is being impossible, and after half an hour with the curling iron, she opts for a French twist. She keeps her makeup light and tosses back a handful of Tums to quell the acid tide in her stomach.
Henry’s in jeans and a blazer, drinking coffee with Viv and her girlfriend. There’s a heated argument about Iron Man taking place. “You look great,” Henry says. “Ready?”
“No. But let’s do it anyway.” She plucks at invisible fuzz on her skirt.
He takes her arm and they head to the garage.
“Have fun at the circus, kids!” Viv calls after them.
***
They are seated at a table for four, Henry and Mulder facing one another, herself between. She holds a multigrain roll from the breadbasket in her lap, using her nails to pull out every tiny piece of millet, extract every last pumpkin seed. She drops them to the floor like daisy petals.
“I read your book,” Henry says. “Really impressive research. I recommended it to some colleagues.”
Mulder stirs his drink. “Thanks. Spend a lot of time on the dark web between billable hours, Henry?”
Scully kicks him lightly under the table, nostrils flared.
Henry chuckles. “No, I’m just a dilettante.”
The silence is thick and heavy as they peruse their menus, and Scully curses herself for this egregious decision. The back of her neck prickles, her face is hot and itchy. Moments stretch like saltwater taffy on a summer day.
“So, uh, Henry,” Mulder says at last, rubbing the side of his face.
Henry looks up. “Yep?”
“My, uh, my finances are pretty complicated due to some trusts and inheritances, plus my pension. The accountant I’ve been using is retiring. You think you could recommend anybody trustworthy?”
“Oh, absolutely. I’ve got a great guy in Alexandria,” Henry says. “He’ll save you a fortune.”
Mulder nods thoughtfully. “”I’ll put it towards my post-apocalyptic underground bunker. To which, of course, you’re all invited when the end times come upon us.”
Henry’s eyes crinkle at the corners, Scully sees, and her chest loosens. “We’ll bring a pie,” Henry says.
Mulder smiles. “Don’t let Scully make it. Great cook, lousy baker.”
The waitress comes for their orders, and they are chatting easily by the time the food arrives.
***
Henry sits outside on the porch, staring up at the sky. He names the constellations to himself as he sips a tumbler of Macallan. Dana perches on the arm of his Adirondack chair, knees drawn up to her chest.
“I like him,” Henry says at length. “Very funny guy.”
Dana nods slowly. “He is.”
Henry crunches an ice cube. “He’s still in love with you.”
“Does it bother you?’
He looks at her, ethereal in the moonlight. He is afraid at times that he will awake to find she has disappeared, burned off like the mist. “I want everyone to love you.”
She shakes her head, smiling. “Henry.”
“You love him too,” Henry says.
She hunches her shoulders, glances down. “Does that bother you?”
It might, he’s not sure. He felt the ineffable thing between them, but he understands the weight of history. “Love doesn’t have to be a zero sum game. Is there space in you for both of us?”
“It is impossible for more than one object to occupy the same space at the same time,” she says. “There are different spaces for each of you.”
Henry considers this. “Why’d you leave, Dana?”
She cants her face to the sky, eyes wide. “There’s a…a recklessness in me, Henry. A self destructiveness you haven’t seen.”
Is this where his gentle doctor ends and Mulder’s sure-shot partner begins? “Scully,” he says, trying it out.
Her eyes slide closed. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t…please keep going.”
“That part of me blooms with him. It thrives. And I knew, I know, I couldn’t live like that. I couldn’t survive it another year. And I…I ripped it away and left it behind. That’s the place in me for you, Henry. That wound. You and Viv and Alice and Simon; you heal me there.”
He hears the thickness in her voice, feels it rising in his own. “Dana,” he says roughly. He knows about wounds and empty spaces. A piece of him went into the dark earth with Joan.
She turns her head to look at him, a slice of her lovely profile. “If that’s too much, I understand. I do. It’s a lot to ask.”
He shakes his head. “I’d rather share you than lose you,” he breathes. “If I….if I can make you feel whole, that’s a privilege.”
She makes a small noise, a hiccup or a sob, and crawls into his lap.
“It’s okay,” he says, arms wrapping around her. He kisses her temples, her eyelids.
She curls tight against his beating heart.
***
They don’t bother with the superfluity of hellos. She calls, he answers, they talk.
“I liked him,” Mulder says, bouncing a basketball. “I didn’t particularly want to, but he seems like the kind of person people just like.” Mulder finds this a kind of character flaw of its own, but does not mention as much.
“Yes,” Scully says, her voice soft. “He is.”
“A tax attorney though, Scully. Ouch.”
“Mulder, please.” The note of actual pleading in her voice startles him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, sincere. “I know this isn’t easy.”
“It’s okay.”
He shoots the ball into the hoop at the end of the driveway. “Three-pointer,” he tells Scully.
“The crowd goes wild.”
There’s a long silence, just one another’s breathing.
“Listen, I don’t know if you know this, but I have a bit of a background in psychology and behavioral science.” He makes a foul shot.
“You don’t say.” There’s a smile in her voice.
“Truth. So I want you to know that my impression of Henry is that he, um, he knows the value of what he has. With you.” It hurts to admit this to her. To himself.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Mulder, I didn’t exp-“
“No, I just, let me finish. And he, um. He’s really a good guy. His life is, you know, well. Your life, really, I guess. It’s good. It’s what I wanted for you and I’m just, you know. I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you.” His eyes sting.
Silence.
“Scully?”
“I’m here.”
He hears tears in her voice. “Okay. Okay, good. This is hard, but we, um. We’re always friends, aren’t we?”
“Of course. Always.” She sniffles.
“I feel like Henry, he understands that. He seems like he really wants you to be happy, that he’s not the jealous type.” Shit, shit why did he say that? “Not that he should be jealous, I don’t mean to imp-“
“It’s okay. And you’re right. He knows that I’m…that we…he knows how we are.”
Mulder swallows hard. “How we are,” he repeats.
They never say goodbye, either. The silence grows and drifts, then she finally disconnects the call.
***
Anonymous asked: What would you do if Henry rocked up in season 11 (other than sue)?
Wait for him to die, I guess. That’s Chris’s MO.
***
Anonymous asked: I love Henry. I know it's sad that in this fictional world she's not with Mulder, but as much as they deeply loved each other, I must admit it's lovely to read a world where Scully is appreciated in the day to day. I'm sure that perhaps Mulder did, but we didn't see too much of that. It felt like it was only when she was kidnapped or in hospital with cancer that he realised how much she meant to him. Henry is what she deserves, and it seems to make Mulder step up too. I'm on board for this.
I feel this way too. Listen, I am diehard MSR and was a shipper before fandom had even settled on the term! I am here for Mulder and Scully hobbling across that bridge like everybody else. 94% of what I write is MSR, either set within canon, or trying to give them a happier AU. Even in this story, their love is still palpable. I don’t think it works otherwise.
But the challenge of trying to create this unconventional AU in a way that is relatable to people is really enjoyable to me as a writer. MSR is inherently easy. It exists. It’s fun and satisfying as a fan, but it’s not a hard sell. This is really pushing me to approach the characters in a new way. I’m just immensely surprised it has gone over so well, and endlessly grateful to everyone who has been willing to engage in the narrative. Especially to @kateyes224 for the idea and @mangokiwitropicalswirl and my 10/13 anon for fleshing it out.
(10/13 anon, got your message. Just developing an answer in my head.)
—
Anonymous asked: How would Henry cope if Scully's cancer returned? And how would Mulder? OR... how would Scully cope if something happened to Mulder, but she isn't free to drop everything and go to him? Would she want to, or would she have closed the door on that reaction? How would Henry deal with that? #TeamHenlly
Henry paces the hallway outside her room, one hand to his forehead, the other holding his phone. “Pick up, pick up,” he mutters.
Mulder does, finally. “Henry?”
“Yes. Yeah. Listen, this isn’t easy, but I’m at the hospital with Dana and I’ve got some, uh, some bad news.” He is proud of his steady voice, his steady hands.
“Is she hurt? Is she sick?” Mulder sounds almost accusatory, as though Henry has been derelict in a simple task.
“She’s sick. They…” he runs his hand through his hair, circles around the vending machine again. “They found a mass in her sinuses, Mulder.”
The silence on the other end goes on too long. “Mulder, are you there?”
“Do you know her medical history?” The words are clipped.
“She told me, told the doctors this isn’t new. But she said something about a chip, about that scar on her neck. What the hell is going on here, Mulder? I’ve never pushed her about her past, but I’m seriously in the dark here.”
There’s a heavy sigh on the other end. “It’s not my story to tell you.”
Henry, his frustration peaking after hours of obfuscation and obliqueness from Dana, slams a fist into the wall. “She’s my wife, goddammit! Whatever you two have, Mulder, whatever it is, I never pried. I trust her and I trust you and I accept it. But you need to tell me, right fucking now, what I don’t know.”
People are staring, but he doesn’t care, he feels righteous and productive.
“Henry, I-”
“You tell me,” he growls, “or I will drive over right now and beat the living shit out of you. I have a lot of impotent rage I’d like to direct somewhere.” He’s not entirely sure he can make good on this, but he thinks adrenaline will give him an advantage.
Nothing.
“Mulder.”
Breathing.
“It’s medicine,” Mulder says slowly. “The chip in her neck is some kind of medicine that stops her cancer.”
Henry is appalled, “That’s it? That’s the secret you couldn’t share? Am I losing my goddamned mind? Call the fucking manufacturer right now and get another one, for Christ’s sake!”
“It’s not that simple,” Mulder says, his voice soft. “It’s, ah, not on the market.”
“You’re telling me you know of a medicine that treats cancer effectively and you can’t get it? Is it foreign? Illegal?”
“It was a sort of custom design,” Mulder says.
“Give me an answer, a real answer. You two and your doublespeak, I swear to god…” He’s gripping his hair by the roots.
“Fine, Henry. Here it is.” There is anger in Mulder’s voice now, and Henry finds it satisfying. “Her cancer was specifically engineered to manifest if she ever took the chip out. The chip is a tracking device. I don’t know why it stopped working, but before you come over and kick my ass, you have a lot of fucking questions to ask your wife.”
Henry’s mind is reeling. He leans against the wall. “A tracking device?” he repeats. “Engineered cancer? How do you engineer cancer? Why do you engineer cancer?” He can’t process this, not this and Dana asleep in the hospital bed with a demon behind her eyes.
“Shit,” Mulder breathes. “Goddammit, Henry. How bad is she?”
“She’s weak, very thin. She kept saying it was the flu, you know how she is. But she had a few nosebleeds and went in. And here we are.”
“Yeah, I know how she is,” Mulder says, and Henry hears the pain in his words.
“There’s a man,” Mulder says. “Who knows about the chip. He might, uh, he might arrange a deal.”
Henry is baffled, but tries to swim with the current. “A deal? Why would an- never mind. Call him. I’ll pay whatever he wants, no questions asked.”
“Oh, I don’t think you can pay what he’ll want,” Mulder says. The words are measured, heavy. “But I can.”
The line goes dead.
***
Anonymous asked: In the Henry universe, how does Scully react when Mulder finds someone else?
She’s sorting lunch components for the twins into plastic bins in the refrigerator; bags of chips and carrot sticks and foil-wrapped triangles of pizza. Her phone rings as she picks up a webbed bag of clementines.
“Hey,” Mulder says, his voice a warm pulse.
Scully lets the oranges slump back onto the counter. “Hey.”
“I’m, uh, I’m headed up to New York to talk to my publisher this afternoon,” he tells her.
She can hear the noisy old dishwasher going in the background, imagines Mulder fidgeting at the kitchen table. There’s a chair with a wobbly leg he likes to rock in. “They still talking about the miniseries?”
“Yep.”
Scully chews her lip, considering. She tucks the phone against her shoulder. “That’s not why you called, though.”
A long pause. “No.”
“Okay.” She shuts the fridge and begins assembling sandwiches on the counter. Teasing information from Mulder can take a quiet, steady patience.
“I met someone,” he says at last.
Scully sets the knife down, knuckling the cool granite. “Did you?”
“I just, you know, I wanted to call you. You were very open about Henry so I thought I should extend you the same courtesy.” In the background, the squeak of the chair leg.
“Mulder, that’s great. I’m happy to hear it.” She is, she is, she doesn’t want him alone.
He coughs. “Thanks. Um, well, I guess that’s it, really. I should go pack.”
“No!” she exclaims. “Mulder, I need some detail.” As a friend. As a concerned friend who is wary of his general taste for women who will betray him.
“Oh, Scully, you don’t have t-“
“Really, I do. Let’s have the 411.” She hopes she sounds casually interested, and begins spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread.
Mulder guffaws. “The 411? Scully, let me tell you about the internet.”
She blushes, waves her hand. “Whatever. Details, something.”
“Ummmm…”
Scully imagines him pacing now, tossing and catching an invisible baseball. “You know, it’s okay, I don’t want to pressure you.”
“No, hey, I’m sorry. Just trying to generate a quick dossier. Uh, well, her name is Elizabeth. She works for the EPA, coastal ecology.”
“Science nerd, huh?” she says, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. She swallows, stabs a spoon into the jam jar.
“Yeah,” Mulder says. “She does something with zebra mussels and ship ballast water that I need to brush up on.”
“Probably invasive species in coastal communities. I’ll give you a crash course if you like.” She picks up the sandwich to tuck into a plastic bag.
‘It’s okay. I’ll Google it; you remember that internet thing I mentioned before. It’s got lots of stuff on it.”
She is stung, and words sticks in her throat like lumpy oatmeal. “Oh,” she manages. “Okay, then.”
Mulder coughs again. “I just figured you’re pretty busy, with work and the kids and everything.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty crazy.” She toys with the jam jar, rolling it in her hands. It is cool against her palms “Well, you know, enjoy your research. Look up copepods too.”
“I will.”
Seconds tick by on the kitchen clock.
“When’s the second book out?” Scully asks. She picks up the sandwich, zipping and unzipping the plastic bag.
“Around Thanksgiving, I think. You want an advance copy? I’ll sign it for you.”
She laughs. “No, don’t give them away. I want to buy it, boost your sales.”
“In that case, stock up and send them out with the Christmas cards. Even mine.”
“I’ll pre-order on the….what did you call it? The in-ter-net?”
Mulder chuckles. “Have them shipped right to your house, or take your velocipede down to the book-seller to fetch them.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
A lengthy pause, but they don’t hang up.
Scully finds that the sandwich in her hand has been wadded into a dense ball, peanut butter and jam squeezed all over the inside of the bag. She hastily shoves it into the trash can. “Mulder, um, when you get back in town, why don’t you give me a call? We’d love to have dinner with you and Elizabeth.” She says it so smoothly she believes it.
“Oh,” he says. “That sounds nice, that sounds really good. Yeah.”
“Okay.” She squeezes her eyes closed, her stomach sour.
Mulder breathes for a long moment. Then he says, “Well, hey. I’ve got to get going, but thanks for listening. I know how busy you are.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Sure.” She holds back this time, doesn’t say she always has time for him.
An empty silence now, the call disconnected.
Scully sits on a bar stool, hands clasped beneath her chin, elbows on the breakfast bar. She sees the absurd expectation she’s held onto, the cruelty of it. Mulder like a sundial in the garden of her life, static and reliable as she moves through the seasons around him. Ticking off her hours as she spends them.
Scully goes to the sink and slaps cold water on her face. She sees Elizabeth in her mind’s eye. Lanky and brunette, of course. Long legs and khaki shorts, probably lots of trips to REI. She assigns her a sporty dog too. Maybe with a bandanna.
She says a prayer for his happiness, and leaves it to God to sort out what exactly she means by the idea.
***
Anonymous asked: 10/13 Henry anon here, dearest Mrs. Virgata and mangokiwimagicswirl, either or both of you please feel free to flesh it out. It delights me my little something could turn into a bigger something. I'm not above begging. *begs*. Look what you all did, my MSR heart really does belong to MSR, but I can carve a little spot out for Henry/Scully/Mulder. Mulder is earth, Henry is the stick, Scully is Archimede's point bc we all know she makes the choices and drives the consequences.
A Saturday in late September, and Henry and Scully sit on the back porch watching the twins lob lacrosse balls at Viv. She catches them expertly, flicking her wrist to send them flying back at her younger siblings. They dodge them, squealing and chasing one another and Wicket, who makes off with one on occasion. He exposes his preposterously fluffy belly in hope of scratches.
Scully pours herself a glass of sangria, pours Henry another two inches of Macallan. She is pleasantly buzzed, work blurring out of her mind’s eye. Henry is somewhat more than buzzed, she suspects. Joan’s parents had been over, which exhausts him.
“There’s, ah, there’s something I want to discuss with you,” Henry says. “And with a bit of liquid courage, there’s no time like the present.”
Anxiety rises in her like a barometer. “That’s quite a lead-in,” she says, keeping her tone light while her stomach churns.
“Sorry,” Henry replies. “It’s not, it’s nothing bad.”
“Let’s have it, then.”
“Mulder’s birthday dinner,” Henry begins. “I know what he…I know that you two are…dammit.“ He trails off in frustration.
The anxiety is now constricting her throat. “Henry?”
He shakes his head, still watching his children. “What I’m mangling here is that if you, um, if you ever felt a need to, you know, take a night off from all this-“ here he nods at the yard, “I’d not hold it against you.”
Comprehension begins to dawn, and Scully is aghast. “You’re not suggesting that I….no. Henry, no.”
Henry shrugs. “It’s not a moral failing, okay? I asked you once if there was a place for both of us in you and you said there were two places. And I said I’d rather share you than lose you. I know a marriage is a compromise, and I’m, you know, I’m trying to figure out what that looks like here. You took on three kids and a guy with some heavy emotional baggage.”
Scully’s cheeks burn. “So your solution is that I offer myself up to him as a birthday gift? Is this some kind of magnanimous man-to-man gesture, sharing your woman as a show of friendship?”
Henry turns to her now, mouth open. “Oh god, oh….shit. I had no idea it sounded that way. I’m sorry.”
Scully drains half her glass in one gulp. “This is the life I committed myself to, Henry. It’s not a job I need a sick day from, and you and the kids aren’t baggage, for heaven’s sake.”
Henry stares into the yard, watches Wicket play tug of war with Viv’s lacrosse stick. “I’m terrified of losing you,” he says. “Partially because of Joan but partially because…” he shakes his head.
“Because what?”
He swallows the rest of his Scotch. “Because there are these dark places in you I can’t see, places that have been redacted. And I told you I wouldn’t pry, and I won’t, but I have this fear of them. That they’ll swallow you one day, and you’ll just disappear. I guess I hoped that if I offered you a night to visit, so to speak, you might not feel tempted to run away to them.”
Her sinuses burn. “Henry…”
“I wasn’t trying to offer you to Mulder as a birthday gift, Dana, that’s really fucking sick. But I was trying to offer you a night in the parts of yourself you haven’t let me go to yet.”
She reaches for his hand and grips it hard. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“A vacation home,” he says, smiling weakly at his own joke. He squeezes her hand back.
“I don’t need a vacation,” she assures him. She tugs Henry closer, pulls him down so that his head is resting on her lap. His legs dangle over the armrest of the wicker settee.
“I just want you to know I meant it,” he says.
She nods. “I do. But you can’t keep me by giving me away.” She traces his face with her fingertip, his eyelashes and tragus and philtrum. She etches him deeper into her heart.
***
Anonymous asked: Original 10/13 anon here, I suppose i'm down for consummation of free pass too. Heck, you can do both versions for all I care!
aloysiavirgata:
Oh @perplexistan and @kateyes224…
A continuation of this
***
It’s sticky outside, a mid-Atlantic fall day not fully committed to the reality of October. A late season hurricane has been stirring up the ghosts of summer off the Carolinas, the air close and heavy. Scully steals hairpins from Viv’s vanity to help tame her bun, and is reasonably pleased with the results.
It’s just Mulder, she tells herself, zipping up her navy dress. It has a boatneck that shows her clavicles to good advantage, cap sleeves that feel feminine but not frilly.
It’s just Mulder, she thinks, choosing beige kitten heels that lengthen her legs, swiping Lancome’s Perfect Fig across her mouth. She skips perfume.
The sky is thick with shaggy clouds, the sun slipping away nearly undetected. Scully slides behind the wheel of her car, and leaves tire tracks on the grass when she swerves backwards down the driveway.
***
The restaurant is new and well reviewed, with nothing served in Mason jars or on slate tiles. She asked when she made the reservation, as these things leave Mulder snarky and cross.
Mulder arrives at the table a few minutes after her, wind-whipped, mud on one of his loafers. They embrace, a quick kiss on each cheek, and she breathes shallowly. It would not be good to inhale the scent of him.
“Happy birthday,” she says, settling into her chair, napkin spread across her silken lap. “I’m sorry the weather’s so ominous.”
“I blame you entirely.”
She smiles. “I should have e-mailed Holman Hart, called in a favor.”
Mulder peruses his menu. “Next time. I’m just glad you got to come out and play for an evening.”
Scully frowns. “This isn’t the fifties, Mulder, and I’m not a kept woman. Don’t make it sound like that.”
He is taken aback, but nods. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
Scully sighs. She doesn’t want to begin like this. “It’s fine. I’ve had a long week and I’m a bit snappish. I just don’t want things to be strained between us because of….well. It’s your birthday, Mulder.”
A waitress comes by with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. She sets it on the table, handing them each a flute.
Scully looks at her in confusion. “I didn’t order this,” she says.
The waitress nods her head towards Mulder. “The gentleman called earlier, ma’am.”
The gentleman denies this, and the waitress furrows her brow. “Sir? Someone called earlier and ordered this for Dana Scully’s table. For a birthday celebration.”
Scully blushes, twists her wedding ring around her finger. “It’s fine, thank you,” she tells the waitress. “Just a misunderstanding on my part. Sorry for the confusion.”
“Shall I open it?”
“Please.”
The cork makes a wonderful popping sound, the champagne golden and sparkling as it flows into their glasses. The waitress tucks the bottle back into the ice before she leaves.
Scully stares at the silver bucket, the frost of condensation on it, the mounds of crystal ice. She runs a fingertip along the rim of her flute, making it squeak.
Mulder raises his glass in a toast. “Many thanks to Henry,” he says, without a trace of irony.
***
Mulder is clacking his empty mussel shells like castanets. The champagne is gone and so is half a bottle of Sancerre. The candle on their table has burned low.
Scully is laughing helplessly, her napkin pressed to her mouth.
“I can’t believe you never told me this,” she manages. “The Spanish ambassador, how could you?”
He drops the shells back into the bowl, grinning. “It’s was university and I was an asshole. Plus my girlfriend was semi-psychotic. Phoebe,” he clarifies.
Scully groans. “Oh, God. Phoebe. She was a mess, Mulder.”
He laughs. “Gorgeous though. My main requirement at the time.”
She wipes her eyes. “I’ll grant you that, yes. I was a little intimidated, I won’t lie.”
“You were looking pretty good too.”
Scully wrinkles her nose in reply.
A boom of thunder comes suddenly, making the chandeliers rattle. Seconds later, a jagged fork of lightning splits the sky. Gasps come from the other diners when the lights go out.
Mulder dribbles wine onto the candle, extinguishing it. “Pouring one out for my homie Zeus.”
***
They make a mad dash to their cars in the rain, Scully nearly diving into her SUV. She slides on the wet leather, blasting the air to dry herself off.
Across the lot she spots Mulder’s car, his battered old two-tone Land Cruiser 70. It has not been started. Worried, Scully drives over, hydroplaning on the slick asphalt. She parks parallel to him, oriented nose to tail.
She sees him through the downpour, scowling at his phone. She waves to get his attention and he frowns at her, shrugs. A round of hurried texting reveals that the car won’t start and he’s got at least a 2 hour wait per the AAA app.
Scully reaches behind her seat for the huge wood-frame golf umbrella she keeps there. Opening the door, she unfurls it into the storm. The wind nearly drags it from her hands. She makes it to her trunk before Mulder sees what she’s doing and leaps from his car.
“Are you out of your fucking MIND?” he yells into the wind.
“JUMPER CABLES,” she shouts back. “YOU CAN’T STAY HERE FOR TWO HOURS!” Scully rummages around, then hoists them victoriously.
Thunder crashes, and the hail begins.
Mulder shoves her into his open driver’s door and she clambers into the passenger seat so he can get in. Hail the size of quail eggs bounces in with him.
He slams the door, panting. “You have a degree. In physics.”
She twines the cables around her hands, shamefaced. “I know.”
Mulder starts to laugh. He rests his head on the steering wheel, shaking with laughter while hail rattles around them.
Scully glares at him. “Let’s agree it wasn’t my finest moment, okay?”
He catches his breath. “No, it’s fine. It’s good. I appreciate the laugh. But we picked the wrong car for this little adventure.” He clicks the useless ignition to demonstrate.
Scully groans. “My phone’s in mine too.”
Mulder peels his jacket off, his shirt mostly dry underneath. “Scully, you’re soaked. I’d offer you my jacket, but…” He holds it up, letting it drip water onto the floor.
“I’m good,” she says. “Just turn on the - oh.”
“Yeah.”
She folds down the visor, inspecting herself in the mirror. She looks like the undead prom queen from a slasher flick, straggling hair coming loose, smudged rings of waterproof mascara.
She snaps the visor back up.
Mulder brightens. “I think there’s a blanket in the foot locker. I’ll climb back and get it.”
She waves him off. “I’ll get it, I’m smaller.” Scully turns, her silk dress clinging like wet paper as she wriggles. She and Mulder studiously ignore her hip against his shoulder. Her shoes drop beside him to the floor.
She squelches into the back, feeling clammy and uncomfortable. There is loose grit on the floor, which hurts her knees. She tugs a quilted moving blanket from a folded-up seat onto the floor, then opens the foot locker. Inside is his old Navajo blanket. She touches it, smiling.
“You find it?” Mulder asks.
“Yeah, thanks,” she says. Scully unfolds the blanket and wraps it around herself. It smells of dry wood and motor oil, GoJo hand cleanser. “I forgot how much room there is back here with the side seats up.”
He adjusts the rearview mirror to see her, and they hold one another’s eyes for a beat. Scully looks away, watches the storm shred leaves off the trees. She twists her wedding ring.
Mulder climbs through the seats, grunting, then sits next to her on the moving blanket. “I texted Henry,” he says. “Let’s him know you’re safe, just waiting out the storm. Thanked him for the champagne.”
“I appreciate that,” she says, touched
“I’d want him to.”
Scully pulls the blanket tighter.“I’m sorry your birthday is going like this,” she says.
He looks at her, surprised. “Good dinner, great company, spooky storm. You wanna tell ghost stories and creep each other out?” He bumps her shoulder.
Scully smiles. “I’m don’t think we can surprise each other anymore,” she says softly. “We’re like two magicians trying to show each other card tricks.”
“You can always surprise me,” he says.
She holds her left hand out for his inspection. The diamonds reflect scraps of yellow streetlight. “This?” she asks.
Mulder shrugs, looks away.
Scully touches the rings. “He told me to go home with you tonight if I wanted. He said he would understand, like shore leave. That it wouldn’t change anything.”
Mulder swallows, closes his eyes. The air is becoming steamy with evaporate, the windows fogged. The smell of damp silk, damp wool hangs about them.
“I told him I couldn’t, that I didn’t need it anyway. And that I certainly wasn’t going to offer myself to you like a gift from the lord of one manor to another.” She reaches out to touch his face, to turn it towards her.
“Don’t,” he rasps.
“Mulder, look at me.”
He shoves her hand away, stares at her. “I’m getting in your car,” he says. “Before we do something really stupid.”
Scully drops the Navajo blanket to the floor. She unpins her hair, lets it fall down her sticky neck to just past her shoulders. She sits back on her heels, wet dress like seaweed. “Mulder.”
“One of us needs to get the fuck out of this car,” he whispers, his voice ragged. He doesn’t move.
She unzips her dress, but it doesn’t fall away like she’d planned. It clings to the tops of her arms, the tops of her breasts, the back gaping open. Gooseflesh rises.
“I thought I could get out of the car,” she says. “ But maybe a joyride every so often isn’t such a bad idea. Henry says it’s not a moral failing, Mulder. And I’m quoting directly.”
They stare at one another, her face tipped up, her mouth swollen. Mulder gazes down at the shadow between her breasts.
Scully runs her tongue across her top lip.
He reaches forward, slides his hands down her shoulders, scraping the ruined silk away. His breath, his heart, are louder than the thunder.
She is bare to the waist now, her chest heaving, her dress a puddle between her hips and the quilted grey blanket. Her nipples ache.
Hail smashes against the windshield, and the wind howls.
She unbuttons his shirt, her fingers trembling, and his chest is deeper, broader than she remembered it. His scars are just as she left them.
Scully moves closer, her breasts grazing his skin when she kisses his neck, bites at it. He shudders, fingers tangling in her hair.
She cups his erection through his trousers.
“I thought you said…” he gasps, hands sliding down to plane her back.
“I thought I meant it,” she mumbles, unbuckling his belt, unfastening his fly.
“I wish you had,” he groans when she pulls his boxers to his knees.
Scully lays back on the blanket, her dress still rucked around her abdomen like a painting of Venus. She reaches beneath it to pull her underwear down, kicks them away.
Mulder is on top of her then, his hands on either side of her head, his shirt tenting her torso. He moves one hand against the hot skin between her thighs, comes away slick from even so little contact.
She whimpers as the storm roars, and he presses his wet fingers to her mouth.
“Scully,” he says, his eyes searching hers. “We can’t undo this, you know that.”
She knows, she knows, she saw what happened to Daniel’s family, what she had done.
“Please,” she says, raking her manicured nails down his back, her pelvis arched against his. “Please.”
Mulder is not her conscience, and enters her in one thrust.
He cries out to her god.
***
It’s past one when she stumbles into the kitchen, past one by the little clock above the sink.
Henry jumps up from the ladderback chair. “Dana, thank God,” he says. “Mulder called about 45 minutes ago, said you’d left, but I couldn’t reach you.”
Scully holds up her phone, the screen black. “Ruined in the rain,” she says. She slumps into a chair, drained. “And the hail cracked my windshield.”
Henry watches her, concerned, then takes his robe off. “Look at you, you’re soaked.” He tucks the thick cotton around her, smoothing her hair out of her eyes. “Dana?”
She leans up, kisses him. “I’m sorry, the roads were awful and I’m exhausted. I don’t remember a storm like that since Sandy.”
He runs his thumb over her cheekbone, smiling at her freckles. ”I’m just glad you’re safe.”
Scully nods, pressing his palm to her face, to her lips. She’d stood outside in the rain, after the storm burned itself out, to wash the yeasty scent of sex from her pores. She’s afraid, somehow, that it has lingered. That she is marked, tainted forever.
“Probably too much wine, too,” she admits ruefully. “I drank more than my fair share and my head hurts.”
“I got his text,” Henry tells her. “I’m glad he liked it.”
Scully looks back at him, her heart aching with how much she loves him, how much she despises herself. “Oh, yes,” she replies. “He loved your gift.”
—
For everyone who asked.
***
He rattles up the driveway, the rattling a function of his automobile rather than the O'Keefes’ smooth asphalt. He parks under the basketball hoop, blocking the garage.
Fallen branches litter the yard. A shutter is down from one of the dormer windows, and the landscaping looks threadbare in places. A Japanese maple is split down the center.
Henry is gathering this debris from the storm, hauling it into a large pile in front of the house. He wears a Princeton sweatshirt and jeans, a Nationals cap pulled over his hair. He pauses in his work to greet Mulder. There are wet leaves on his hands.
“Didn’t expect to see you,” Mulder says, stepping over a rake to shake hands. “I was planning a drop-and-dash.” He holds out Scully’s wooden umbrella, her jumper cables.
“Well, you can just, um, set that stuff on the bench I suppose. Dana’s in surgery all day, but I can put it in her car when she gets home.” Henry jams his hands in his pockets, rocks back on his heels.
“Okay,” Mulder says. He lays the items on the bench, then surveys the yard with a kind of awe at the destruction. “Hell of a mess.”
Henry sighs. “I know they were calling for it, but I guess I wasn’t prepared for what we got. You know Dana has a big crack in her windshield.”
Mulder’s eyebrows go up, as this is news to him. “She okay?”
“Oh, she’s fine, but she was pretty shaken when she got home last night.” He studies Mulder carefully. “Must have been a rough drive home, huh?”
“Must have been.”
They are silent for a time.
“You need any help cleaning up?” Mulder asks. “It’s the least I could do after you were nice enough to buy me birthday champagne.”
Henry shakes his head. “No, thank you for the offer though. Glad you had a good night despite the weather. You’re hard to shop for, though Dana said you wouldn’t want a gift.”
Mulder looks away. “I don’t need much.“
Henry picks the rake up, leans on the handle as he presses the tines into the soft earth. “I love my wife,” he says. “And so do you. Some people might say that puts us at odds, Mulder.”
Mulder meets Henry’s gaze. “It would be an understandable, if incorrect assumption.”
Henry shifts. “I don’t want to be at odds with you. You….you’re her friend. You represent a part of her life I can never fully understand. When I lost Joan I thought I’d…well. I know we all have our ghosts.”
“Nothing happened last night, Henry.”
Henry stiffens. “Pardon?”
Mulder holds his hands out, open. “I feel like I need to just say it, okay? Nothing inappropriate happened. My battery was dead and we realized we both had too much to drink, so we waited the storm out in my car. Her phone got wet and ruined so she couldn’t call. She adores you and your kids and that Ewok of a dog.”
Henry closes his eyes for a long moment, then opens them. “Thanks for bringing her things back. I’ll tell her you came by.”
Mulder nods. He gets into his car and backs down the driveway, navigating fallen limbs as he does. On the radio, Tom Petty’s singing about his last dance with Mary Jane. Mulder turns the volume up and sings along.
***
Anonymous asked: We can just blame love for the Henry saga. Loved fucked all of them over. In Victorian times, after the free pass, Scully would've killed herself, Henry would remain unmarried for the rest of his life and refuse to talk about Dana, and Mulder would go on some stupid quest as penance and probably get himself killed.
I think I saw this movie and Gillian was very good in it.
***
Anonymous asked: I beginning to feel like eventually Henry is going to realize Scully's connection runs so deep emotionally that he's just not going to want to deal with it anymore. He says he's fine with how things are, how Scully doesn't tell him much about her past, that she is still very close to Mulder and gives her a free pass, but eventually he'll want more for himself in a relationship and leave her. In my mind, Scully want want that life and deserves it, but she unintentinally sabotages it.
I think you’re right. Scully has a deep self-destructive streak that rears its head on occasion. I think there’s a part of her that doesn’t feel like she deserves familial happiness after William, and that she doesn’t deserve Mulder or Henry. She’s almost created a perfect storm for herself where she can lose them both by capitalizing on their feelings for her.
***
Anonymous asked: How did Henry and Scully meet?
She wore navy peau de soie and nude stilettos, a beaded bag on her wrist. Her hair hung in sculpted waves just covering her collarbones.
She chatted, she mingled, and she ducked into the kitchen with unnecessary frequency to check the flow of the food.
“Everything’s fine, Dr. Scully,” the staff assured her each time. She pursed her lips, scanning the bison tartare and vol au vents. She sampled a grilled shrimp, nodding tersely.
Scully calmed herself with a third vodka tonic, a poor decision, she knew, but the bar was open and her nerves jangled.
“It’s perfect, Dana,” her intern said, a glass of white wine in her manicured hand. She was a child, scarcely old enough to legally consume her drink. Her father was Someone.
Scully smiled, thanked her. The crowd was too dense, the room too warm, and the talk too loud. There was drunken laughter, cloying perfume. She longed for home, for the reliability of solitude.
Next to her, a man in a grey suit ordered a 15 year Macallan, neat. Scully appraised him out of habit, saw the fine tailoring and coordinating pocket square. The haircut was good, the shoes excellent. She sensed funds for her pet project.
“Dana Scully,” she said, holding out her free hand.
He took it with his left. There was no ring. “Henry O'Keefe,” he said. “You’re on the committee, aren’t you?”
Scully blinked in surprise. “I am,” she said. “Have we met?”
He shook his head. “My firm’s the title sponsor and I recognized your name.”
She smiled in the way she knew people liked, all her teeth on display. “Impressive. Have you checked out the auction items yet?”
He nodded. “There’re a few things I’d like for my kids, I put in some bids. Quite a variety this year.”
“It’s much appreciated. I hope you win them.” She left a tip for the bartender, turning to go.
Fingers at her back, and she sucked in her breath at the ghost of a memory.
“Dr. Scully?”
She turned back to Henry O'Keefe. “Yes?”
He looked into his drink, then at her. “It’s a very good cause.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps…perhaps you could tell me more about it. About how you got involved. It would be nice to hear from someone with passion rather than just a calculation for client endearment.” He offered her a hopeful smile.
Scully set her empty glass on the bar. “I’d love to,” she said. She rested her hand on his offered forearm, and waded back into the fray.
***
Anonymous asked: Henry story: if Mulder and Scully were asked to consult the FBI on a strange case (and a once only basis), what would happen?
She’s got a stack of patient files next to her, dog-eared, the corners grubby. Scully dutifully logs their contents into her computer, wishing the hospital would spring for software upgrades. Her phone rings, startling her from the mind-numbing task.
“Mulder?”
“There’s a case.”
She pecks at the keyboard. “I’m sorry, but the person you’re trying to reach is no longer available. Please hang up and try your call again.”
“I’m not kidding. You’ve gotta make arrangements, you’ve gotta-”
“Mulder, slow down. What the hell is going on? What case, why are you freaking out like this?”
A pause. “It’s Skinner.”
***
“I realize the government is slow with the red tape, but they are aware that they no longer employ you, correct?” Henry’s fingers tap his forehead as he paces the kitchen.
She traces her nail along the grain of the kitchen table. “Strictly consulting,” she says. “All behind the scenes. Probably no longer than a week.”
“Forgive me, but why you two? Why now?”
She looks down. “It’s classified.”
“Of course. And where will you be going? Can I know that at least?”
“Classified,“ she whispers, still not meeting his eyes.
Henry throws his hands in the air. “Of course. Of. Fucking. Course. Your whole life is classified, why shouldn’t this be too?”
Scully squeezes her eyes shut. Any other case and she would have said no. Anything else and she would have hung up on Mulder, gone back to her filing, eaten Viv’s outstanding lasagna, and gone to bed.
“Are you allowed to say no, even? I mean, you’re a civilian, right? They can’t force you to do anything.”
“I have to,” she says, heartsick. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But I have to.” Her throat is tight.
Henry knuckles the counter, his back to her. “I have never asked you anything, Dana. Not a single goddamned thing. I agreed to leave the past behind and move forward, but it seems to keep popping up. Flying off with your ex husband to your ex job? I’m supposed to be fine with that when I know…” He shakes his head.
“When you know what?” she breathes, nauseous. She is afraid he will say it, even though she knows he knows.
Henry turns, his eyes hard. “Enough, okay? I know enough.” He considers her. “What would you do if I said no?”
She is taken aback, this possibility not having occurred to her. “I didn’t think we forbade each other things, Henry,” she says slowly.
“The requests are getting pretty one-sided. So what would you do?”
She presses her trembling hands flat to the table, palms cool against the lacquered wood. “I’d go anyway,” she says. “Not for anyone else, but for Ski-” she bites off the end of her sentence, furious with herself.
Henry sits across from her at the table. “For whom?”
She remains silent, shaken.
“Classified,” he says, with faint contempt. “Right.”
Scully chews her lip until the inside of it bleeds. Experience has taught her that there are reckonings, crossroads past which a life can take on an entirely new direction. She does not want this to be one of them.
They look at each other for what seems like a very long time.
“Henry,” she says carefully. “What I’m about to do is completely illegal, all right? I’m putting your life and my life in danger by telling you this. But you’re right; I owe it to you. To us.” She reaches across the table for his hand.
Henry nods. “I understand.”
He doesn’t; he can’t possibly, but she plows ahead before she loses her nerve. “FBI Director Walter Skinner has been taken by a militia group called the New Spartans. We believe he’s being held inside their compound, located near Casper Mountain, Wyoming.”
Henry gapes. “The Director. Of the FBI. Has been kidnapped?”
“So it would seem.”
Henry shakes his head, appalled. He withdraws his hand from hers to run through his hair.“Why isn’t this national news, why isn’t the, uh…who? The SEALS or the Army Rangers all over this? Why are they pulling two agents out of retirement to deal with a huge fucking disaster? Were you hostage negotiators, what?”
“No. But we….um. We, along with Director Skinner, have dealt with this group before. Mulder infiltrated them undercover at one point. August Bremer, their former leader, spared Mulder’s life at one point.” She looks at him sadly, reminding herself of all that he doesn’t know.
“Shouldn’t they be making demands, on TV or something, I don’t know…. Bragging?” Sweat beads on Henry’s brow, and he wipes at it with a paper napkin.
Scully shakes her head. “Maybe in a Bond flick. These are not people who want attention. They see themselves as the last true patriots and this is symbolic for them, for their followers. They don’t want to cut a deal with the federal government. They’re anarchists, and see no difference between the FBI and the KGB, Henry. This is a power move.”
Henry, dazed, shreds the paper napkin into minuscule fragments. “How the hell did they get him, anyway?”
In for a penny, in for a pound, she figures. What’s a little more treason between husband and wife? “A member of the group had been leaking plans to the Director for about eighteen months, all of it credible. The source claimed that the New Spartans had been working with anti-federal groups overseas to plan an attack that would take down power grids in 20 major US cities. Based on our prior dealings with the group, the Director found this consistent with their MO. He agreed to meet with the source to obtain satellite footage of the other groups’ headquarters. But it turned out to be a setup, an ambush. Four agents were killed and the Director was badly injured.”
Her husband looks ill. “My god,” he mumbles. “And you’re wading back into this? And I’m supposed to just nod and wave like it’s fine?”
“Just consulting, Henry, I promise.” She speaks softly, like she does when the twins wake up from nightmares they can’t remember. “I’m past fifty, and hardly in peak form. Intel only.”
“But why, Dana? Can’t someone else do this?” His voice is pleading.
“I owe him my life, Mulder’s life,” she says. “He risked himself to save us. And when I had no one, nothing, he was there.” She shrugs. “It’s a debt I never thought I could repay.”
Henry frowns. “No one and nothing? Dana, what happened to you?”
And now, Scully knows, now is the crossroad. She gulps air, takes her husband’s hands again in her own.
“I have a son,” she says.
***
@perplexistan asked: I need something from the Henry-verse. Something happy, though. Maybe Scully finally divorcing Henry and going back to Mulder. I know that's not the point of this AU, which I truly do love, but I just want it. Sue me.
You are asking a lot of our friendship. Can’t I just send you cookies?
***
Anonymous asked: Who is being eaten up by the repercussions of free pass more Mulder or scully?
Scully for sure. I think that, particularly post IWTB, he’s stopped taking responsibility for her decisions. I have a line in there where I say that Mulder is not her conscience, and I think he really feels that way now. She’s a grown woman capable of making her own choices. I think he knows what they did was wrong, but Scully isn’t some wide-eyed innocent anymore.
***
Anonymous asked: Does Viv know about Emily and William? Has she met/seen Mulder?
Henry doesn’t know about Emily and William. Viv has met Mulder twice. She thinks he’s a compelling, charming weirdo but, given her stepmother’s tendency to organize closets by color and make spreadsheets for every conceivable topic, she’s baffled that they were together as long as she’s heard they were.
***
For all the anons who have so sweetly asked after Henry, here’s a little intersection with Ghouli.
***
Simon and Alice run squealing from the living room, slamming into Scully when she comes around the corner from the kitchen.
She staggers back under their combined weight, bumping into the dog. “What’s wrong?” she asks, steadying herself against the counter.
Viv stalks in behind them, waving her phone. “I told them it was too scary,” she says. “But they hid behind the couch to read over my shoulder, and now they’re all freaked out.” She punches Simon in the arm. “Serves you right.”
“We’re never sleeping again,” Alice asserts, cuddling against Scully.
“Ever,” Simon adds, punching Viv back.
Scully rubs Alice’s small back, running her fingers through her thick hair. The irrational squabbles of children are still hard for her to follow, but she tries. “What was too scary?”
“Ghouli,” Viv says, crunching into an apple.
***
Scully is curled up on the chaise longue in her bedroom, lost in reading, when Henry comes in. He’s shed his suit for pajama pants and a Georgetown sweatshirt. Scully smiles at his mussed hair, an untidy silver haystack from wrestling with the twins. The nails of his left hand are painted with purple glitter polish.
“You get them settled?” she asks.
He rubs his face. “Yeah, finally. Alice is good, but Simon’s still pretty sure this Ghouli thing is coming to eat our family.” He sits at the edge of the chaise, reaching out to massage Scully’s neck. His hands cover her shoulders, thumbs meeting at the base of her cervical spine.
“Mmmmmm,” she says, rolling her head forward. “You’re going to distract me.”
“That’s the plan,” he says, trailing butterfly kisses along her jaw, then stops when he notices what’s on the screen. “What the hell is that?”
“Ghouli, apparently. Viv showed me the site. it’s pretty well done, actually. I can see why they’re freaked out.” The drawing of the monster has the clean, architectural lines of a scientific sketch.
Henry stretches out on the chaise, wrapping himself around her. Scully tucks herself into the solid warmth of his body and adjusts her laptop so that they can both see. Late night cuddling over images of cryptids brings back memories that she shakes off.
As though reading her mind, Henry says, “So whatcha thinking, Agent Scully? This is your former wheelhouse, right?”
She shrugs. “Not exactly It’s fascinating from a cultural standpoint, I suppose. I was talking to Viv about it. There’s an internet phenomenon called ‘creepypasta,’ kind of like urban legends with a paranormal bent. Some of them have taken on a sort of folk-tale quality.”
Henry tucks her head beneath his chin. “Is this that Slenderman thing? Those two girls in Wyoming?”
“Wisconsin,” Scully corrects. “Yes, like Slenderman.” She switches tabs, pulling up a new post. “Ceci n'est ce pas une pipe,” she reads, in her bad French.
“This is not a pipe,” Henry translates, musing. “What the hell does that mean?”
Scully taps her lips. “It’s a reference to a painting by Rene Magritte. He did, um, a painting of a pipe with this phrase below it, as a reminder that the symbol of the thing is not the thing itself. The map is not the territory. It’s a semiotic concept addressed by Alfred Korzybski.”
Henry kisses her temple. “You didn’t even have to Google that, did you?”
She, grins, admits that she did not.
“So hot,” Henry says. “Anyway, so what? Some emo kid who’s read too much Sartre decided to make some of this, uh, creepypasta stuff.”
Scully scrolls around some more. “Probably. It’s just impressively complex. Like, here. Look at this. It’s got a Baconian cypher, it references atomic bomb tests,it’s got sketches of RNA…which. That’s odd, actually.”
“Hmmm?”
“Well, the post with the RNA base is by a user named K/OMouse. I’m guessing it refers to knockout mice. Those are mice whose DNA has been altered, so why include RNA nucleotides instead of DNA? And an RNA nucleotide shouldn’t contain a diphosphate, but there are two phosphate groups here, plus that terminal oxygen should be double bonded to this carbon, or be a hydroxyl, or at least have a negative sign.” She doesn’t notice that her voice has grown agitated.
Henry has. “Uh, Dana? I think maybe you should avoid this site with Simon and Alice. Go play Neko Atsume for a while, hmmm?”
Scully takes a deep breath. He’s right, of course he’s right.
It’s nothing.
She closes her laptop, laughing a little. “I guess I’m Rever’s target audience.”
Henry grins. “I’ll try to distract you again.”
She ignores the little itch in her amygdala, in her entorhinal cortex, and follows him to bed.
***
It’s two AM and Henry is sleeping, bare-chested and peaceful on the other side of the room. Wicket, dense and furry, is sprawled like a wolf pelt over his feet. Their breathing is even and steady, a lulling hum in the back of her head. It steadies her like a heartbeat. Like the sea.
Her eyes flit back and forth between tabs, her face bathed in the blue glow. She looks at the post by K/OMouse again. The alien head, the RNA.
Alien head, RNA
RNA, virus.
Viral replication occurs via mRNA.
Something tickles her brain again, that little itch.
A virus.
An alien virus.
Purity control.
She grabs a notepad to organize her thoughts.
Baltimore classification?
Two phosphate groups = diphosphate nucleoside? Or non-terrestrial?
It is not the pipe - it is not the territory - what does Ghouli represent?
She looks at KO/Mouse’s post again, copies down the code he’s written. She begins working on it before seeing that user Elizabeth has helpfully done this work for her.
weseeyouwilliamvandekampweknowwhoyouare
andifweknowthentheyknowwhichyoushouldknow
crossroadswasonceanatombombandnowitisyou
WilliamWilliamWilliam pounds in her head.
Her vision is black, suddenly. And just as suddenly she sees a farm, idyllic and flat beneath an Ansel Adams sky.
Back to her room in a flash, gasping for air. Back to Henry dreaming in the safe warmth of their bed.
It’s 2:37 by her watch, but time is only a human construct. She pads out to the hall and down the stairs. She dials, and he answers on the third ring.
“Mulder, it’s me.”
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THE WILLS
March 19, 1950
“The Wills” (aka “The Coopers Make Their Wills”) is episode #80 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on March 19, 1950.
Synopsis ~ After Liz and George make out their wills, Liz is convinced that George intends to do away with her. Liz is startled to find a receipt for some arsenic and rope in his pocket, but is shocked when George suggests a trip to the country - with a one-way ticket for Liz!
Starting with this episode, “My Favorite Husband” moved from Thursday nights, to Sunday nights.
Note: This program was used as a basis for a scene in “I Love Lucy” episode “Lucy Thinks Ricky Is Trying to Murder Her” (ILL S1;E4) filmed on September 8, 1951 and first aired November 5, 1951. For various reasons, it was the first episode of the series filmed, but the fourth aired.
“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benadaret was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.
MAIN CAST
Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.
Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.
Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) had worked with Lucille Ball on “The Wonder Show” on radio in 1938. One of the front-runners to play Fred Mertz on “I Love Lucy,” he eventually played Alvin Littlefield, owner of the Tropicana, during two episodes in 1952. After playing a Judge in an episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” in 1958, he would re-team with Lucy for all of her subsequent series’: as Theodore J. Mooney in ”The Lucy Show”; as Harrison Otis Carter in “Here’s Lucy”; and as Curtis McGibbon on “Life with Lucy.” Gordon died in 1995 at the age of 89.
Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) does not appear in this episode.
Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz (above right), a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.
Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.
GUEST CAST
Herb Vigran (Doctor Stephens) made several appearances on “My Favorite Husband.” He would later play Jule, Ricky’s music union agent on two episodes of “I Love Lucy”. He would go on to play Joe (and Mrs. Trumbull’s nephew), the washing machine repairman in “Never Do Business With Friends” (S2;E31) and Al Sparks, the publicity man who hires Lucy and Ethel to play Martians on top of the Empire State Building in “Lucy is Envious” (S3;E23). Of his 350 screen roles, he also made six appearances on “The Lucy Show.”
EPISODE
ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers tonight, it's just after dinner, and we find Liz and George settling down to a normal evening's conversation.”
George has something he needs to talk to Liz about. Liz immediately thinks it is something to do with her household budget, but George wants to talk about their wills. The subject immediately upsets Liz. The idea of living without George sends Liz into gales of tears. George wants her to read it, and threatens to leave everything to his mother if she doesn’t. Liz snatches the will from him. George then tells her that he has had her will drawn up as well.
LIZ: “What for? You're the one who's going! What are you trying to do, push me ahead of you in line?”
George reminds her of the three acres of Florida beachfront property that her father left her, which she calls ‘Sunken Acres.’ George always assumed it was oil land.
LIZ: “If there's any oil down there, it's still in a whale. Oh! I see it all now, George! You want me to sign a will leaving everything to you, and then you'll bump me off! You want to get your dirty fishhooks on my oil holdings!
Liz agrees to read and sign the will as the scene fades out. At the bank the next day, Mr. Atterbury notices that George seems tired. George admits he was up late talking to Liz about their wills. Mr. Atterbury proposes that the Coopers join him and Iris at their mountain lodge for the weekend, flying up, and then leaving the girls there for the week while they fly back for work. The following weekend they will drive up to get them in Mr. Atterbury’s new car.
Mr. Atterbury has already bought the airline tickets and asks George to go to the hardware store for a few items.
MR. ATTERBERRY: “I need poison for those horrible little gophers up there. And some rope for a clothesline, and a couple of sacks of cement. Iris wants a patio so she can sunbathe. Come to think of it, that ought to keep the gophers away.”
GEORGE: “Let me make a list on the back of this envelope. Now, poison, ropes, cement...”
MR. ATTERBERRY: “Oh, and I need an axe, too.”
Mr. Atterbury tells George that they should tell their wives that they are just going for a weekend, so that they don’t rush out to buy a week’s worth of new clothes.
At the Cooper home, Katie the Maid is preparing dinner. George comes home and tells Liz the good news that they’ll be going to the Atterbury’s lodge this weekend, and he’s got the airline tickets in his pocket. As George goes upstairs to prepare for dinner, Katie reminds Liz that she has a beauty shop appointment on Saturday. Liz wonders what time the plane leaves, and fishes in George’s jacket pocket to check the tickets. She notices that one tickets is round trip, and the other is one way!
Liz immediately assumes one of them isn’t coming back, and reminds Katie that George asked her to sign her will! She notices some writing on the envelope that looks like a shopping list.
LIZ: “Poison! He's going to take me out in the woods and poison me! Look, at the next item - rope. If the poison doesn't work, he's gonna hang me! Cement. If I live through the poison and the rope, he's gonna put my feet in cement and dump me in the lake! Look what's next - axe! If I able to hold my breath, he's gonna swim in the water and chop me to pieces!”
KATIE: “Oh, how can Mr. Cooper do such a thing?”
LIZ: “With that list of weapons, how can he miss?“
Liz realizes why George might want to do away with her - they’ve finally struck oil on Sunken Acres!
End of Part One
Announcer Bob LeMond reads a live Jell-O commercial.
ANNOUNCCER: “As we return to the Coopers, we find Liz in a state of nervous apprehension. After years of having George under her thumb, she's suddenly discovered that he's bout to put the finger on her. Or at least she thinks he is. But right now it's after dinner, and Liz, the intended victim, is in the living room, reading. While George, the killer, is slowly stalking up behind her.”
George kisses Liz on the back of the neck. She screams! Liz nervously says that she’d rather not go to the Atterbury’s lodge this weekend.
GEORGE: “What? Why, Liz, you love the lodge. You always say that's your idea of living.”
LIZ: “Well, I want to keep it that way.”
George says that he has a big surprise for her up there. Liz suggests he take his mother and give HER the big surprise!
GEORGE: “Now, don't be silly! You just wait: When you wake up Monday morning, you'll be very pleasantly surprised.”
LIZ: “If I wake up Monday morning, I'll be surprised.”
Liz wonders if George is having money problems. She asks him why he made her sign her will last night. George says that if it bothers her so much, he’ll tear it up - as soon as they get back from the lodge.
Liz runs to her bedroom and locks the door! George telephones Dr. Stephens (Herb Vigran) to report that Liz is acting peculiar.
DOCTOR: “Peculiar for Liz, or peculiar for normal people?”
RICKY RICARDO: “Lucy is acting crazy!”
FRED MERTZ: “Crazy for Lucy or crazy for ordinary people?”
This joke was adapted for Lucy Ricardo in “Lucy Thinks Ricky Is Trying To Do Murder Her” with Fred Mertz taking the Doctor’s line.
Doctor Stephens cannot make a house call because he’s got an appointment with his psychoanalyst, but he tells George to give Liz a sedative until he can get there.
Liz comes in for a glass of water. George tells her that he’s had Katie prepare them some hot milk. In the kitchen, Katie tells Liz that she saw Mr. Cooper pour a powder into one of the glasses. Liz says she’ll just switch the glasses so that George drinks the one with the powder in it.
In the living room she distracts George just long enough to switch the glasses. But when George lifts his glass to drink, Liz dashes it from his hand. She says she couldn’t do it to him, even if he could do it to her.
LIZ: “You put something in my glass, didn't you, George? Well, I fooled you! I switched glasses!”
GEORGE: “I had a hunch that's why Katie called you, so I switched them again while you were out of the room.”
Liz starts to gag as if she’s been poisoned! Liz falls to the floor, convinced she is going to die, trying to make peace with George in her final moments.
LIZ: “If I had my life to live over again, I want you to know I'd do better. I could stay within the budget, if I tried. (coughs) And I'd never buy clothes I need. (coughs) I'd throw away my charge-a-plate.”
The doorbell rings. It is Mr. Atterbury, come to make the ‘final arrangements.’ Liz tells George that she saw the one way ticket, and the shopping list for poison and the axe. The men dissolve in laughter. Mr. Atterbury explains that those were supplies for the lodge. Liz is angry that she’s been tricked, and refuses to keep the promises she made in her ‘final moments’.
LIZ: "I didn't know what I was saying! I was under the influence of warm milk!”
End of Episode
In the live Jell-O commercial, Lucille Ball plays a Mexican spy, and Bob LeMond is interviewing her for a job.
In the bedtime tag, it is five in the morning and George is reading a suspenseful magazine story. Liz begs him to turn out the light, but then can’t sleep until he knows the outcome of the story. Liz grabs the magazine and reads the last lines.
LIZ: “The huge, shapeless thing crept slowly up behind Mildred, and before she could scream it slipped its bony hands around her - Oh, no!!!”
GEORGE: “What does it say, Liz? Around her what?”
LIZ: “Around her continued next week! Good night!”
ANNOUNCER: “You have been listening to ‘My Favorite Husband’ starring Lucille Ball, with Richard Denning, and based on characters created by Isobel Scott Rorick. Tonight's transcribed program was produced and directed by Jess Oppenheimer, who wrote the script with Madelyn Pugh and Bob Carroll, Jr. Be sure to get the April Issue of ‘Radio Mirror Magazine’ with the big picture of Lucille Ball on the cover. That's the April issue of ‘Radio Mirror Magazine.’ Original music was composed by Marlin Skyles and conducted by Wilbur Hatch. Bob LeMond speaking.”
#My Favorite Husband#Lucille Ball#Richard Denning#Gale Gordon#I Love Lucy#Ruth Perrott#Bob LeMond#Herb Vigran#radio#CBS#Radio Mirror#The Wills#Jello
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The Place Where I Belong
Pairing: Dean/Cas (Background Saileen and Sheriff Wives)
Rating: M
Word Count: 5,545. (Damn you Ao3, Google Docs said it was 5555!)
Warnings: None? Mebbe? I don’t think so.
Written For: nickel’s storytime
On Ao3
Dean had never been more happy to see the bunker.
Sure, the last hunt was a success, and yeah, he and Cas had figured out why people were being taken. But at what expense? When Sam had given the case to the pair of them, he somehow had forgotten to mention that the case involved couples.
The few days that Dean had spent with Cas had been absolute bliss. They needed to blend into the rest of the population, and the public displays of affection had been everything that Dean had ever dreamed of. Cas' hand felt right in his, Cas' arms around his shoulders in a hug felt like home.
And the scratch from Cas' scruff on his cheek from a quick kiss? Well, call Dean cheesy, but it was Heaven on earth, and that Heaven was named Cas.
Once Dean parked Baby in the garage, the charade was over. Cas was back to his unreadable poker face, the hand holding stopped, and Dean felt cold. He missed the warmth Cas showed him at the resort, he ached for any hint of it. Even if it were fake.
Dean grabbed his duffel out of the trunk, leaving Cas to his own devices, and booked it to his room. The faster he could get away from Cas, as much as it hurt, the better.
Once in his room, he threw his bag on the floor, wincing at the sound it made, thinking that maybe something broke in it. Dean let out a heavy sigh and dragged his hand down his face.
A knock at the door had Dean flinch, and the voice from the other side brought him no additional comfort.
"Dean, are you okay?" Cas' deep, gravelly voice was muffled by the door. "I know you were injured, do you need me to take a look at it?"
Dean shook his head. The injury was minor compared to others he had received before. A sprained wrist that clicked when Dean turned it a certain way? Cas didn't need to look at that.
"I'm fine, Cas." Dean let out a deep breath quietly before picking his bag back up and setting it gently on the bed. He unzipped it and started digging through it, looking for something to stabilize his wrist.
"If you're sure." There was a pause from the other side of the door, and Cas started speaking again. "I have a text from Eileen. She and Sam will be back in an hour or so."
"Are they requesting food or something?" Dean asked before thinking. He closed his eyes and shook his head, cursing himself.
"They wanted to know if they needed to stop before coming back to the bunker." A pause again. "I can check the fridge while you unpack. Tell them what we need."
Dean nodded, despite Cas not being able to see him. "Yeah, Cas. That sounds good." Dean pulled out an ace wrap from the bag and sat on the bed. "Tell them that I'll make whatever they bring home, as long as they don't make me eat rabbit food."
"A salad never hurt anyone, Dean." Cas sighed. "But very well."
Dean waited until he heard Cas' footsteps retreating before he started wrapping his wrist up. He thought of the monster, a water nymph, how it threw him, and he landed on his wrist wrong, how Cas went berserk and took down the creature. Dean thought of Cas doing that because Cas loved him. Not because they were there to hunt the monster.
Dean tested the wrap, finding it passable, and stood back up. He let out a heavy sigh as he walked to the door, a simple wish crossing his mind.
He wished that the past few days had been real, and not a façade made up to defeat a monster.
…
Two hours later, while curled up in the Deancave watching TV, another voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts. "Hey, Dean."
"Sammy." Dean stayed focused on the TV, a wave of anger building up in his belly.
"How'd it go?" Sam plopped on the couch next to Dean. Dean moved over to give his moose of a younger brother more room. "Cas said it was a nymph or something?"
Dean looked over at his brother and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Water nymph. Was jealous of the love between the couples. It kidnapped all of the people to try and figure out how to get that for itself."
"Oh yeah? Did you free the missing people? How? I need to put this on file."
"Shut up, Sammy." Dean curled his knees to his chest. "I'm trying to watch my show."
Sam went quiet for a moment. "Did something happen on the case, Dean?"
"Yeah, hurt my wrist. Go bug Cas." Dean snapped.
"I got Cas' point of view. I'm asking for yours." Sam's voice has an edge of a bite to it, and Dean turned his head to glare at his younger brother.
"Let me guess. You want to know if I professed my undying love for Cas, or some bullshit like that, don't you?" Dean scoffed. "I'm never getting drunk with you again. I'm never playing truth or dare with you again, and for fuck's sake, I'm never letting Eileen make my mixed drinks again."
Sam laughed loudly. "So, you didn't tell Cas how you really feel? I set you up with the perfect opportunity, and you blew it."
"I fucking knew it. You did do it on purpose. You knew the whole time." Dean flipped off Sam, restraining himself from kicking his brother.
"Yep. Figured you could get your head out of your ass." Sam shook his head. "Apparently, you couldn't do it."
Dean pushed himself off of the sofa and left the Deancave, storming off to the kitchen to grab a beer. He paused briefly, finding Cas sitting at the table with Jack, and talking over a folder.
"Dean!" Jack smiled at Dean and waved. "Cas said you two had a successful hunt, so now we're planning a small one on our own."
"Sounds like a plan, kiddo. What's got your attention?" Dean grabbed the drink from the fridge and walked over to the table, pointedly not looking at Cas.
"I'm pretty sure it's just a restless spirit." Jack pointed at a spot in the folder.
"Items have gone missing, people have been injured, but there's no viable explanation," Cas added.
Dean nodded, not looking at Cas. "So, find what they're tied to, or salt and burn. Sounds like good practice for you. When are you two heading out?"
"Now that Sam and Eileen are back, we were going to head out now. It's a state over, so we can drive overnight and be there in the morning to do our research." Jack smiled at Dean. "I've got all my stuff packed and ready to go."
Dean clapped Jack on the back and risked a brief look at Cas. Cas was watching Jack with pride and not even focusing on him. Dean wasn't sure what else he was really expecting. "Did you pack some snacks, kiddo?"
"You bet! I got my candy bars, just don't tell Sam." Jack grinned and stood up before looking at Cas. "I'll meet you in the garage, Cas!" Jack bounded out of the kitchen, smiling.
"We'll be back in a couple of days, Dean."
Dean turned to look at Cas. "Do what you need, Cas. Just make sure you come home, okay?"
"Of course, Dean." Cas stood up and crossed to exit the kitchen, resting his hand briefly on Dean's shoulder, before following behind Jack.
Dean let his shoulders fall, the brief touch of Cas' hand reminding him how far away he was from ever having Cas as his own. He looked at the beer in his hand before turning and putting it back in the fridge. The way that Dean saw it, he had one of two options. He could mope and pine forever, or he could move on, finding company elsewhere.
The latter felt more attainable.
Dean returned to his room and got changed, putting on his nicest Henley and cleanest pair of jeans before grabbing his keys. Moving on was calling, and it would be at Jackson's downtown.
…
The quick drive into town only made Dean more nervous. He parked in front of the bar and slid out of the Impala, looking around. He let out a heavy sigh and walked towards the neon lights illuminating the bar windows.
"Hey there, Dean." Jackson nodded at Dean as he sat down at the bar. "What brings you in on a Thursday?"
Dean let his head slam against the bar. Of course, it was a Thursday. "Just got back in town from a job. It was a pain in the ass."
"Clearly." Jackson chuckled as he poured a shot of Jack for Dean. "That one's on the house."
"Thanks, Jackson." Dean lifted the shot glass and tipped it in thanks before throwing it back. "Just set me up with two Margies?"
Jackson nodded and walked away to grab the bottles. Dean's eyes drifted up to the ball game on the TV, allowing his brain to wander for a bit. He didn't even notice when Jackson dropped the bottles off, cracking the first one for him until he put the bottle to his lips.
"Hey there, handsome." Dean looked to his right and admired the woman who sat next to him. She had long brown hair and soft blue eyes. "Care if I join you?"
"Open seat means open to chatting." Dean smiled at the woman. "Don't think I've seen you around before." He offered his hand. "Dean."
"Cassandra." She took his hand and shook it. "In town visiting family."
"And they let you come here?"
"I resent that remark, Campbell!" Jackson called from the other end of the bar.
Cassandra laughed softly. "Jackson is my family. He's married to my sister." She rested her chin on her hand. "What brings you here?"
"Looking to forget for a little while." Dean turned on his thousand watt smile for Cassandra. "There's usually good company to be found here." Dean's eyes flicked to Jackson, who was crossing back over. His heart sank, because that good company was usually Cas. "What are you drinking, Cassandra?"
"Please, call me Cassie or Cass. I don't need to stand on formalities, Dean." She winked.
"Dean, where's Jimmy?" Jackson interrupted as his sister-in-law started to move in closer to Dean.
"Out of town."
"Ah, was wondering why my second best customer wasn't here with my best customer." Jackson looked at Cassandra, the pair exchanging a conversation through only looks. "It's not like you to come in without him."
"Like I was telling you. Just needed to forget about life for a while." Dean finished off his first bottle and pulled out his wallet, digging out a twenty and dropping it on the counter. "Apparently, I can't forget it here, at least not tonight." He turned to Cassandra. "Hope to see you around."
Dean headed towards the door and heard Jackson talking to Cassandra about him. He was reasonably sure he heard the words "Jimmy" and "Husband" in the same sentence and restrained himself from slamming the door behind him.
...
The drive back to the bunker was too quiet. Even blasting Zeppelin as he drove didn't fill the strange silence that hung around him. He had tried flirting with Cassandra at the bar, and even if Jackson hadn't of interfered, nothing would have come from the interaction.
She wasn't Cas. Sure, she had the hair, the eyes, hell, she even had the damn name. But she was not Castiel, Angel of the Lord.
Dean pulled Baby back into the garage, parking her and finishing the song that was playing before heading back into the Bunker proper. He stopped in the kitchen, intending to grab the second beer he never had at Jackson's. But another brunette decided it was in their best interest to stop him.
"Hi, Dean."
"Hey, 'Leen." Dean grabbed his beer, cracked it, and set it on the counter before turning to face her. He signed as he spoke, "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"What, and miss getting on your nerves?" Eileen smirked as she took a sip of her own beer, and pointed at the seat across from her. "How was your trip into town?"
Dean shrugged, grabbing his beer before joining her. "Stopped at the bar. Had a whiskey and a beer. Tried to flirt with a woman. Got cockblocked by Jackson." He sipped his beer. "Sounds like a normal time in town."
"Were you actually successful at flirting with the woman?" Eileen asked.
"Nope." Dean shook his head. "I guess I wasn't feeling it."
"What happened on the hunt, Dean?" Eileen asked softly, resting her hand on his arm. "Both you and Cas came back different."
"Cas came back different?" Dean scoffed and shook his head. "He's still Cas."
Eileen shook her own head in response. "No, Dean. Cas is more..." She paused as she thought of the word. "He's brighter. But you appear darker."
"Yeah, well, when I'm darker, I guess everyone looks brighter." Dean finished signing and took a pull of his beer.
"You going to tell me what happened?" Eileen tilted her head, offering a soft smile. "Or do I need to suggest what I think happened?"
"What all has Sam told you?" Dean ran his hand down his face, letting out a sigh.
"Sam doesn't have to tell me anything. It's plain to see how much you and Cas love each other." Eileen leaned forward. "I want to know what happened on the hunt."
Dean shook his head. "It hurts, 'Leen. Cas doesn't love me. Not like I love him." He paled at the confession. "Shit, Sammy got that drunk. How the hell did you get it sober?"
"I'm just that good." Eileen winked. "So, why don't you think Cas loves you?"
"I experienced first hand how he acts when he loves someone. He held my hand, he hugged me..." Dean paused and blushed. "He kissed me." Dean's hands balled into fists as he fought down his emotions. "The moment we got back into the car, he shut off. It was like nothing ever happened."
"Did he shut off, or did you?" Eileen held up a finger. "Did you openly say anything or even imply that you wanted to continue, or did you just go back to how you dance around him on the daily?"
Dean finished his beer and stood up. "Honestly? I'm still stunned any of it happened." He frowned as he took his beer to the trash. Dean turned to face Eileen again. "I'm heading to bed. You should too." He shot off a salute and exited the kitchen.
...
That night, Dean tossed and turned. A distinct sobbing in the bunker caught his attention, and he followed the noise to its source in the Library. Cas was lying on the ground, his wings burned into the floor beneath him. Eileen was sobbing into Sam's chest, and Jack was kneeling next to him.
"What happened?" Dean yelled at the three other people in the room as he rushed to Cas' side, falling onto his knees. "Cas?" Dean gently patted Cas' cheek, shaking him and trying to wake him up. "Cas, buddy, please, wake up." Dean fell forward, wrapping his arms around the fallen angel. "CAS!" His sobbing joined Eileen's, as he kept repeating, "I never got the chance."
...
Dean shot up in bed, feeling around and pinching himself. He was awake, and he was heartbroken.
After digging around under his bed, Dean found and pulled out his emergency handle of Jack Daniels. He grabbed his laptop and leaned back against his headboard. Dean pulled up Netflix, settling on the Great British Bake Off for something to watch as he got himself blitzed on whiskey.
After three - or was it four - episodes, the whiskey was finally running over Dean's brain, and the room started spinning. Dean thought that it was for the best that he put the laptop away. The competitor who had won the last two signature challenges looked an awful lot like Cas, at least to his fuzzy brain.
Dean closed the laptop and set it on his nightstand, knocking his cellphone down. As he picked it up, the picture of him and Cas lit up as his background. Dean smiled and ran his finger along, accidentally opening up his text messages. A message from Sam was waiting, asking how he was. Dean scoffed, typing the first thing that came to mind and sending it, before tossing his phone on top of the laptop and falling asleep.
...
The next morning, Dean woke up, his head thumping from the over-imbibing of alcohol. Even worse, The first thing he woke up to was the thought of Cas. Unlike his nightmare that woke him up first, this dream was soft, it was intimate. It left Dean wanting for more.
Dean reached for his phone, picking it up and cursing when he realized it was dead. He plugged it in and pushed himself out of bed, making his way to the kitchen.
A blur of long brunette hair dashed up to Dean, pulling him into a tight squeeze. "I am so proud of you." Eileen pulled back and smiled, looking up at Dean. "What changed?"
Dean tilted his head and signed. "What are you talking about?"
"Cas texted me this morning. He told me what you said to him." Eileen looked as though she were about to burst. "He can't wait to get home."
"Not to rain on anyone's parade here, 'Leen, but I didn't text Cas last night. I texted Sam."
"No, you didn't." Sam walked past and shook his head in the negative.
Dean shook his head. "But I sent Sam a message. I said that 'I'm going to spend the rest of my life alone.'"
"Clearly not." Eileen shook her head. "I know I can't hear, but I'm sure his phone didn't go off." She pointed towards Dean's room. "Go grab your phone?"
"Uh, it died, it won't have much of a charge." Dean contested, afraid to go grab his phone. When Eileen didn't drop her hand, his shoulders fell, and he slunk back to his room. He grabbed his phone and powered it on.
Eileen had followed behind and sat on his bed. "So, what message did you send?"
"I don't know." Dean turned to face Eileen so she could read his lips as he went through his phone. "Waiting for it to finish booting up." His phone started, and his alert for his text messages went off. Dean pressed the icon, pulling up the inbox. A text from Cas was waiting for him. "'Leen, I can't look."
"You should see who you sent that message to, at least."
Dean looked through his inbox. There was no sent message to Sam, none to any of his other recent contacts. He took a deep breath, trying to ease his shaking as he clicked on his text to Cas. "What did I do?" His jaw dropped as the message loaded. "No... no, no, no."
"What?" Eileen grabbed the phone out of Dean's hand, and smiled brightly as she read the message in full. "Dean, this is a good thing!"
"What's a good thing?" Dean shook his head. "I've ruined everything." Dean took his phone back and read off the screen. "I sent him, 'I'm going to spend the rest of my life loving you.' I fucked up!"
Eileen shook her head vehemently. "No, you typed him the truth. And he responded in kind. I know what it says, Dean."
"It's not real." Dean looked back and forth between Eileen and his phone. "He's just being polite. Or he means it as friends."
"'And I, you, Dean?'" Eileen shot an incredulous look at Dean. "How many times do you have to be told he loves you for you to believe it? And that's from him, nonetheless."
"Like I said, he's being polite." Dean reached under his bed and pulled out his duffel.
"Dean, what are you doing?"
"Leaving." Dean signed, not trusting his voice. He grabbed his laptop off his nightstand and tossed it into his duffel. When Eileen grabbed his arm, he stopped and shook his head.
"Dean. He's coming home tonight. You can't admit your feelings then leave." Eileen chided.
Dean tossed a few more items into his bag. "Tell him I was drunk."
"You're still in PJs." Eileen pointed at his clothes.
Dean looked down at himself. "I'm decent enough." He grabbed his keys and stormed out of his room. Eileen didn't follow, Dean figured she was probably running to get Sam. He entered the garage, grumbling that he didn't get dressed, and threw his duffle in the back of the Impala. He slid in the driver's side and started Baby up, listening to the rumble of her engine and hoping it would calm his nerves.
As he pulled out of the garage, Dean saw Sam and Eileen finally catch up to him, just to be left behind. The look on his brother's face was probably his best bitchface to date, and Eileen looked heartbroken.
At least they matched his inner feelings.
...
Dean had picked a direction and drove. His brain apparently set to auto-drive, as several hours later, he found himself pulling up to Jody's cabin. He pulled out his phone and dialed Jody's number. She picked up on the first ring.
"Dean! Normally, you're supposed to call before you pull up to the front of my house."
"Yeah, sorry, Jodes. I kinda just drove." Dean let out a sigh. "Am I crashing anything important if I ask to stay a night or two?"
"Get your ass in here, Winchester. I'll go set up the guest room." The phone disconnected, and Dean chuckled for the first time since the day before. He parked Baby next to Jody's truck and hopped out, and grabbed his duffel. He looked down at himself and slightly cursed the fact that he didn't take the time to put on actual pants.
The door opened, and Jody welcomed him with open arms. "Casual Friday at the Bunker?"
"Jodes, you have no idea." Dean let himself be pulled into a hug, then pulled into the house. He took a whiff, and frowned. "Are you sure I'm not crashing something? Smells like you're cooking for an occasion."
"Donna's coming over for the weekend." Jody smiled shyly. "Alex and Patience took a girl's trip, and Claire's on a hunt. So we have the house to ourselves."
"With all the hard work you two do, you guys deserve more time to destress. Time with your best friend sounds like a dream." Dean followed Jody to the guest room. "Wait, won't Donna need the room? I can take the couch."
A blush formed across Jody's cheeks. "Yeah, about that." A car horn sounded from outside. "That's probably Donna. You take the room, get... decent, then join us downstairs."
"Yeah, sure thing." Dean watched as Jody left the room and tossed his bag on the bed. He pulled out his phone, finding several missed text messages and a missed call. He set the phone on the bed and pulled out clothes to change and meet up with his favorite two sheriffs.
"Dean!" Donna waved as Dean rejoined the sheriffs, "Been a hot minute. Missed you." She walked over and hugged Dean, bringing another smile to his face. "What brings you out to Jody's neck of the woods, in PJs, nonetheless?"
Dean shook his head. "Really, Jodes, ratting me out like that?"
"What can I say? It's not every day I have a Winchester roll up in PJs, asking to crash." Jody shrugged. "Hell, it's not every day one of you guys comes to see me."
"Sorry, Jody." Dean hung his head. "We've been busy."
"Oh, we know sunshine," Donna moved to sit next to Jody. "You've missed a couple of things, and Jodio here says it's good I showed up when I did."
Dean looked back and forth between the two women. "What's going on? Did something happen? Are you guys okay?"
"We're fine, Dean. In fact, I think we're better than ever." Jody took Donna's hand. "We're together."
"Uh, yeah. You're sitting here in the house. Together." Donna giggled at Dean's response, and two plus two clicked in Dean's brain. "Wait. You two are an item. You're dating."
"Yes. Which is why Donna didn't need the room." Jody confirmed.
Dean rested his face in his hands. "So I am intruding. I'll grab my stuff and keep on going to Rufus' cabin."
"You absolutely will not, Dean Winchester." Donna put on her authority voice and Dean froze. "You came here, you're frazzled, and you were looking for someone to help you. You've got us."
Jody pointed at the chair. "Sit and spill willingly, or know that we're going to drag it out of you eventually."
Dean sat and told them everything. He told them about the case, he told them about the drunk text, and when Jody asked, he told the pair that he's loved Cas for as long as he can remember. Dean knew it didn't help his case, drunkenly confessing his love and running, but at least Donna and Jody weren't judging him loudly.
"I have a question, Dean." Donna had leaned forward at some point during his story, her elbows resting on her knees. "Cas admitted to loving you in return. Why did you run?"
"You're not supposed to fall in love with your best friend." Dean shook his head. "Hell, I'm not even supposed to have friends."
"So, are you saying Donna and I aren't supposed to love each other? What about Sam and Eileen?" Jody glared at Dean, raising her eyebrow in a challenge.
"I'm not supposed to. It's been beaten in my head that I was never meant for that life." Dean shook his head. "Of course, you two can fall in love. It makes sense for you two."
Both Jody and Donna raised their eyebrows in concern, but only Donna spoke next. "Dean, why can't you fall in love with someone? You're human. You clearly enjoyed the feeling with Cas on the case. Hell, anyone can see that you love him when you talk about him, the way you light up." Donna turned to look at Jody when she felt her hand get squeezed. "You're allowed to love Cas. Especially if Cas loves you in return.
"It's not that simple." Dean shook his head. "It's never that simple."
"Dean, where's your phone?" Jody asked, point-blank.
"Back in the guest room." Before he could comprehend what was going on, Jody bolted out of the living room, and Donna was sitting on his lap. "What are you two doing?!"
"What's it look like? Jody's grabbing your phone." Donna smirked at Dean flailing beneath her. "You're more than welcome to join us for dinner tonight. Especially cause I'm sure Jodio cooked for too many, but tomorrow, you're going home and getting your man."
"Got it." Jody walked back into the living room, swiping around on Dean's phone. "Oof, Sam's not happy with you."
Dean poked Donna in the sides, getting a giggle out of her, but not budging her. "How the hell did you get in there? It's protected!"
"Choose an easier pin than 6776, Dean." Jody smirked. "Eileen wants to make sure you're okay. I'm responding to her." She went quiet for a moment as she typed in a response and sent it. "And Cas wants to know where you're at, he'll come to you." Jody looked at Donna before looking at Dean. "Does Cas still respond to prayers, Dean?"
"Don't you dare." Dean froze. "Please, I'll leave first thing in the morning. I'll go back to the bunker. Please, just let me be here on my own. Please."
Jody continued typing. "Just messaging Eileen to not tell Cas where you are, but letting her know you are safe." She paused. "And that you're heading out in the morning to go back to the bunker."
"Are you two done torturing me?" Dean frowned, resting his forehead on Donna's shoulder. "I just don't want to think about this anymore."
Donna stood up and offered her hand to Dean, pulling him to his feet when he took it. "Then, we'll drop it unless you bring it up again." She hugged him. "But, we want you to know that you're not in the wrong for loving Cas."
Dean frowned but acknowledged Donna's comment. "I hear you, D-Train. You too, Jodes."
"Good. 'Cause dinner's almost finished, and I'm not getting yelled at for burning it." Jody made her way to the kitchen, leaving Dean with Donna.
"She's not going to burn it. She never does." Donna hooked her arm around Dean's and led him to the kitchen. "You can help me set the table, and I'll let you pick the beers."
The trio sat down and enjoyed their meal, sharing stories of recent hunts, of how Donna and Jody came to be a couple, how the girls were doing. Dean even let slip that he thought Sam might propose to Eileen soon. Jody and Donna went above and beyond, taking care of Dean, although it was supposed to be their weekend alone.
In the morning, Dean woke up, the smell of bacon and pancakes permeating through the house. He forgot for a half a second that he wasn't in the bunker, before opening his eyes and taking in the sight of Jody's guest room. Dean let out a sigh and rubbed his face with his hand before sitting up in bed. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his missed calls and text messages. Cas had sent him another one, and Dean's hands trembled as he opened it.
"I am looking forward to you coming home. I miss you, and I love you, Dean."
Dean's heart fluttered. Cas had reaffirmed his feelings for Dean. He hopped out of bed, remembering to change into jeans and a teeshirt and throwing on a flannel, before throwing everything back into his duffel. Dean ran down the stairs with his bag, only to be stopped by Jody before running out the door.
"Eat first, then go home and get your angel."
After scarfing down his food, and leftovers packed up for the trip, Dean gave Jody and Donna hugs before rushing out to Baby. He had an almost six-hour drive that he intended to make in five.
When Dean pulled into the garage, he felt his whole body start to shake. He had taken the five-hour drive to figure out what to say to Cas, to figure out how to make sure he wasn't dreaming, and he wasn't any closer to finding closure. He placed Baby into park, leaving his duffel in the back and grabbing the food to take to the kitchen.
As he padded through the halls, Dean hoped that he could make it to the kitchen then Cas' room without being stopped. He was partially lucky. Eileen was in the kitchen, reading and looked up when Dean entered. She gave him a look, and in response, he held up a finger, asking her to wait a second.
Dean put the leftovers in the fridge and turned back to Eileen and signed without speaking. "Where's Cas?"
"You going to break his heart?" She questioned, also remaining silent.
"I don't ever want to do that."
Eileen nodded. "He should be in his room. He was worried when he didn't get a response from you. We didn't tell him anything."
"Thank you." Dean replied and started heading towards Cas' room. He stopped in front of Bedroom 15, only slightly hesitating before knocking on Cas' door.
A click and the twist of the doorknob, and Cas opened the door. The angel's face broke into a smile when he realized that it was Dean who had knocked and was waiting for him on the other side. "You're back."
Dean closed the distance between himself and Cas, his hands gently cupping Cas' face as Dean claimed his lips in a heated kiss. Cas returned the kiss, and Dean felt himself melt against the angel, every dream of his coming true for real.
"I take it you missed me too?" Cas asked as he pulled away.
"Cas, you have no idea." Dean rested his forehead against Cas' as he softly traced his thumbs over Cas' cheeks.
"Do you feel like you're dreaming, Dean?" Cas rested his hands on Dean's waist.
"I hope not." Dean stole another kiss as he walked Cas back into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.
...
The next morning, Dean woke up in an unfamiliar space again. This time, there was an unusual warmth pressed up against his back. Dean slowly opened his eyes and inhaled through his nose. The smell of Ozone enveloped him, and Dean happily remembered that he had fallen asleep in his angel's arms, in his angel's room.
Dean snuggled back against Cas, savoring the warmth and comfort that came with Cas. Dean felt at peace, he felt content, and most of all, Dean felt home.
#profoundnet#spncreatorsdaily#writersofdestiel#spnpetra#destiel#spn fic#deancas#canonverse#rating: m#there's a very tasteful fade to black#mmmmkay?#nickel writes
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Alfred- Something that there wasn’t there before
Requested by @worldisadirtyplace , honestly I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH YOUR REQUESTS, I ALWAYS DO THEM WITH A SONG. I hope you like it, I’m sorry if this is not exactly what you asked, but I just thought it would be great to write it this way!
Song inspired: Something that there wasn’t there before
Plot: Alfred and you are getting married, and you don’t have a say in the matter. Since the moment you heard about it, you had hated the faceless prince; but now, he’s making it hard for you to hate him.
Your favourite place about that strange and big castle, without a doubt, was the library. It was not only the most secluded room, but also held books that you could only dream about in your kingdom. About adventures, romance and new undiscovered lands that made you travel far, far away. To a world where your future wasn’t ruled by people you didn’t know, or by your social status. As a princes of a small kingdom, your duty was to marry whoever your parents decided; and that turned out to be Alfred, future king of Wessex.
For two weeks, you had managed to avoid the meant to be confrontation, only seeing him in the corridors with his mother or in the dinning hall. When he finally had the chance to talk to you alone, you disappeared in that place. And it had been successful until that morning.
You had a pile of books in your hands, that seemed heavier than ever. Walking through the many corridors and bookshelves, you kept adding more to that pile until they all fell to the floor with a loud thud. You bent down to collect the novels, cursing under your breath unlike a princess should do. Heavy steps sounded in the hall and you were met with a clean brown pair of boots.
“Y-Y/N” Alfred’s voice sounded surprised. “Oh, do you need any help, my lady?”
That time, you held back the insult. His question was nice, and his intention was pure; but you couldn’t help the annoyed feeling of having him in front of you. After all, an arranged married wasn’t your dream. He seemed perfectly fine with it. You picked up all of the books and set them on a unoccupied counter. Looking up the future king, your face contoured into a scowl.
“I’m fine, thank you my prince” you muttered, ready to turn your back.
“What are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” you rolled your eyes, and Alfred blushed. He just wanted to have a conversation.
“I-I was wondering if, maybe, you would like to take walk with me?” his voice trembled slightly, and you found it awfully cute.
There’s something sweet, and almost kind
Until that moment, you had avoided him for that reason. You had spent years hating the man you were meant to marry since the day you were born, a man you didn’t love but you were meant to spend the life with. It wasn’t as if you were already in love, yet you longed for the freedom of a normal person. And Alfred was in your way.
“I don’t like the weather here” you shrugged your shoulders. “It was much better in my hometown.”
“Well, maybe I could show you around the castle while you tell me about your land?” he asked, his eyes shining with hope.
You narrowed your eyes at him, creating a small moment of awkward silence between the two of you. Outside, the villagers were laughing and talking, and you could almost feel their enthusiasm for the future weeding. For them, it was the most important event; where they could eat for free and dance all night, forgetting about their problems even if it was just for a few hours.
But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined
As he looked at you with anxious eyes, you thought about all the stories you had heard about arranged marriages. Abused wives, beatings every night, not being able to leave your room and being forced in bed every night. Still, something about his kind eyes and nervous self wanted to tell you that he wasn’t like that.
“What are you doing here?” you talked finally. “Don’t you have other things to do?”
“I just, I guess I wanted to check on my wife” Alfred explained, looking down to his feet. He had been wanting to talk to you since the moment you came out of your carriage, your beauty blinding him. Learning about you had been hard; he had asked your most faithful guards, your father and your personal maids. What he got in conclusion was that none of them knew you well enough.
So, for a week he had sent you every type of flowers. The ones that didn’t end up in the trash, were the one he discovered you liked it.
“We’re not engaged yet, so you don’t need to check up on me, my prince” you stated, turning your back on him.
Your initial idea had been to take the books and leave the place; close the door of your room and hide there until dinner time. Alfred decided against it, as he picked up most of them and looked at you with an expectant face, as if he was challenging you to leave without the books.
With a small smirk, you left all of the books on his arms, watching as he had troubles holding them up, and walked out of the library with just one of them.
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You stared blankly out the window of your bedroom, observing the people laughing and walking around. It was early, too early to be up; but you had plans that wold occupy you for the entire day. You wanted to go the market, to watch the people you were going to rule over and, honestly, just to be out of the castle. It felt suffocating, and Alfred wasn’t making it any better.
Since the day in the library, he had been delivering to your room all types of books, from the historical ones to those with pictures. Two or three times he had knocked on your door, waiting for your response. When all he got was silence, he told you about his day, or some anecdote.
It was suffocating, because he wasn’t supposed to be that nice. He was supposed to not care about you until the weeding day, to be mean and only think about his own interests. Still, you had heard from your maiden that he had been asking around about your hometown, and tried to make everything similar to it.
And now he’s dear, and so unsure
You got prepared for the markets, choosing a normal dress and a long cape. They were the most chaotic place to be on a Thursday; they had costermongers who sold different things, such as bones, post or pans, people who worked with animals, or others who sold the most exotic herbs. It was the most important day of the week for them, and you hoped to stay between the shadows.
Closing the door of your room quickly, you prayed not to find your mother or anyone on the way. She was strict about what you had to do, and was already angry enough with your excuses about not seeing Alfred. Really, really angry. Your breath of relief caught on your throat when you heard his voice from behind you.
“Off to the markets, my lady?”
You turned on your heels to see Alfred, with a different look than what you remembered; and the sight made you smile shyly. Two days ago you had told your maid that what you hated the most about that place were the looks of the people. Men with long hair, expensive capes and even more outlandish cloths. You hadn’t thought anything about that conversation, but Alfred did. And stood in front of you with his hair cut short and normal cloths, his cheeks covered in pink.
“Yeah, I haven’t had the chance to explore it yet” you answered, causing Alfred to nod slightly. He shifted his weight from side to side, nervous; it was not the same talking to you through a closed door than to your face. Besides, he thought that you were particularly beautiful that day. Hair falling over your shoulder, blue dress and not a scowl on your face; for him, perfect.
That was why he stuttered in his next words.
“I-I’m going too. Just left my bedroom, even if it was hard. My mother-I mean, Judith is always keeping a-an eye on me” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Would you…would you care to walk with me?”
It could had been a lie. He could had been waiting for you to come out behind the pillar, but the truth was that he really was going to the market, and going with you would be just a plus; a very nice one. You raised a brow, ready to decline another one of his many offer; yet you thought better. You didn’t know the place, the best stands or what dangers could you find.
Just because I don’t want my mother hearing from this.
That was what you thought as you linked your arm around Alfred’s one, trying to convince yourself that the jumping of your heart was because of the excitement; not because of the prince you looked at you with happy eyes.
I wonder why I didn’t see it there before
Having a conversation was never something you could achieve, you could say it wasn’t a trait of yours. Being the introverted woman, reluctant of following the rules, you were, the only conversations you were interested in were politics, your future or the fact that you were being ruled by unfair laws. Usually, that type of conversation weren’t held in front of a woman, so you didn’t think Alfred and you had a lot to talk about.
“So, are you the marriage type?” he asked, walking down the corridors of the castle. It was dark, but the soft light of the morning was starting to fill them. His question caught you off of guard. To you, or to him, it didn’t matter if you were or not.
“Not really” you shrugged. “But society thinks every woman is.”
You remembered the lessons with your mother, where she told you that every woman wanted to get married, have babies and live the rest of their days behind their husband’s back. Just thinking about it made your blood boil. Alfred gulped slowly, realising just then that maybe it wasn’t the right topic to start a conversation with you.
He tried to think about the lessons his mother had gave him. How to treat a woman, how to please them, ways of making her smile, feel important, what to give her on important events… He even knew how to ask you to dance in three different languages. Still no one told him that you might not want to marry him. So he just tried to be himself.
“I… don’t think that’s right” he mumbled, looking down to the floor as you two walked. “Women should be able to choose their destiny, but sometimes there is nothing we can do about it. You probably hate me because I’m forcing you to marry me.”
You frowned at his words, finally looking at him with something more than annoyance or disgust. He let out a sad chuckle.
“I wish I could not marry you, but I know that if I do that you’ll end with someone much worse than me” he explained. “I cannot-I cannot promise you something I can’t give you. But you won’t be forced to anything, that much I can promise.”
Alfred stopped walking and turned his body to face you, that time much more confident than what he had been before. He put his arms behind his back, coughing slightly and breathing before continuing.
“You’ll be as free as being a queen let you. If you want to, you can have your own bedroom, and we don’t have to meet ever” he gave you a half smile. “I’m gonna-I’m gonna go actually. Guess you don’t want to be with me right now.”
You blinked surprised at his words. Until that moment, you hadn’t thought about him being a victim too of the arranged married. It was not as if he had decided to marry you, it was your parents decision. Alfred could be probably as angry as you, he could make your life a hell; after all, you were the one invading his castle, his space and his life.
Guilt spread through your body like fire, and you had the sudden urge to hug the man in front of you. Still, too shocked to do anything, you kept on your ground and he took your hand and left a kiss there.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tonight, I guess”
“A-Alright” you said, not blinking once. “Goodbye, my king”
“Call me Alfred” he gave one last sweet smile before turning his back and walking in the other direction.
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At least, you seemed pretty normal. That was his first thought when Alfred saw his future wife five weeks ago, who stood then in the middle of the hall. You was laughing softly, and he discovered that even your laugh was beautiful. A relieved sigh left his mouth at the pleasant sound, audible enough for the people standing close to him, who gave him hard glares. His mother sent a stern look at his direction, elbowing his ribs with more force than what he had expected. Swallowing a pained grunt, he gave her an apology glance. It was better doing so than having her scolding at him for the rest of the night.
She glanced this way, I thought I saw
His attention turned back to the woman standing a few feet away from him, that had managed to take in heart in so little time. Your posture was straight though he could see you were shifting your weight from side to side, and you carried yourself in an aura of importance and royalty; while the rest of the women only swirled their hair on their hands and moved their hips. The way your kind eyes searched for his dismissed every bit of intimidating aspect you might had had. You smiled softly and turned back to the conversation.
And when we touched she didn’t shudder at my paw
You had changed. It had not been long since you were an ice wall to him, yet after the conversation on the hallways he appreciated a change in your attitude. You smiled at him, accepted his compliments and even agreed to take some walks with him
There, at the engagement party you were having, he was considering of he was, or not the luckiest man alive. So many things had changed, and not only your attitude. But everything in his life seemed to be better. He was happier, the days felt shorter and he enjoyed them to the fullest. Not even his mother’s need of controlling everything ruined his mood.
He swirled the glass of wine that he had been holding for hours, not really interested in the content. It was bitter and dry, not at all what he liked; still, he was the king, and had to drink it in the important events. A sudden voice behind him startled Alfred.
“May I have this dance, my king?”
He turned around to see you. You were standing already in front of him, something you wouldn’t have done a few days ago. Your eyes were bright, illuminated by the lights of the room, and your hair was perfectly tied up. The dress you had chosen of that occasion matched his clothes, and he couldn’t help the smile on his face.
You offered him your hand, and he pressed his chapped lips to the back of it, eyes gazing into yours. Alfred nodded firmly and took your hand in his, letting you led him to the dance floor. Once there, you turned around to face him and pressed your body close to him.
“You’re awfully quiet” you muttered, lacing your fingers with his. He rubbed them over yours as you slowly danced under the chandelier.
“It’s getting suffocating in here” he answered, moving around slowly and with elegance.
“Their king is getting married, don’t you think the occasion requires it?” you followed him around, yet did not gave him the lead of the dance. With determinated steps, you guided him through the sea of people.
“I would have preferred something more intimate” he shrugged. “Somewhere we could be more comfortable.”
“Who says I’m not comfortable in here?” you raised a brow. Apart from spending your time in the library, you had discovered another thing that you loved; teasing the sweet king.
“N-no one!” his eyes widened. “I just thought that, maybe, you would be more comfortable with less people. But we can… we can have balls everyday of the week if that’s what the future queen wants”
No it can’t be, I’ll just ignore
It was your turn to blush, and you looked down. Alfred let out a soft chuckle and squeezed your hand,.
But then she’s never looked at me that way before
Conversation flowed between the two of you easily as you two danced with grace and elegance, not getting a step wrong even once. You laughed, smiled and joked with him; and each time he had to press your bodies closer, your heart sped up. They were moulded into one heart, completely in since. He twirled you around, causing your dress to fly up slightly.
You were having fun. Enjoying the dancing, enjoying the ball and enjoying Alfred’s presence. It had been so easy since you had given up in pushing him apart. It could have been worse, and you knew it. There had been so many options, and still you had been lucky enough to catch the, probably, only man who cared about what you wanted or liked.
“What has got my lady smiling so much?” Alfred looked down at you, the music around you becoming distant.
“Nothing” you rolled your eyes.
“Then maybe I should tell my mother” he joked. “I’m sure she won’t mind entertaining you with her advices for being a queen.”
“Oh, shut up” you laughed. “It’s just-this is the most fun I’ve had in a while. I didn’t get to talk this calm with anyone back at home. Or to joke. It… it just feels, I don’t know, nice.”
Alfred liked that word. It had gotten a whole new meaning with you. Before you two met, nice was riding his horse through the forest until nightfall. Nice was sitting his room and getting four hours of sleep before being interrupted by someone. Or staying with his grandpa until late reading things he wasn’t supposed to read.
With you, nice meant showing you around and answering the weirdest questions someone could ask. Nice was sitting by the fireplace, both of you reading but with your shoulders touching. And nice would be feeling your lips against him. So he did it.
Slowly, not missing the beat of the music, he leaned down. Alfred wanted nothing more than crashing his lips into yours, but he knew that wouldn’t be alright. He wanted to have your permission, to know that you wanted him too. That it would be nice for you to kiss him.
Well, who’d have thought?
Alfred had a few steps backwards, and his hand were suddenly gripping nothing, just being held up in the air. He heard a few gasps and felt the attention of the room being shifted towards him. He didn’t understand, it didn’t reach his brain until he was deep into it; and then, he could just laugh and wrap his arms around your waist, kissing you back.
You had jumped onto his neck, pressing your body against his and throwing him a few inches back. It was you who had crashed your lips against him, and it felt really nice. People around you started talking and whispered, but you didn’t care. You moved your lips against him, just as you had done while dancing. His were soft and warm, yours were more harsh and cold. He tasted like wine, you tasted sweet. It was perfect, until a fuming Judith teared you apart and pushed you out of the ball room.
For nearly one hour, you got stuck listening to his scolding next to Alfred, your shoulders touching and your hands searching in each other. And since the moment you met, it finally looked as if you were, just, two people in love.
There might be something that there wasn’t there before
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Enough, Fictober #28
Prompt number: 28, “Enough! I heard enough.”
Fandom (AU if applicable): Endeavour, Morse/Jakes
Rating: G
Warnings/Tags: No warnings apply
”Enough! I heard enough“ Thursday finally snapped. He’d really had enough of Jakes and Morse being at one another’s throat.
It had started a few weeks ago, and so far, he failed to find an explanation. He’d thought that they were getting along better but now, it was worse than ever.
It was clear that Strange was equally as baffled as he was.
“Morse, you’re with me”. They needed to interview a witness anyway, so they might as well use this opportunity to separate Morse and Jakes for a bit.
Strange seemed relieved.
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“What’s wrong?” he decided to jump in immediately when they were alone in the car.
“What do you mean, sir?”
“You and Jakes. What’s going on there?”
He didn’t know what reaction he had expected, it had certainly not been a sharp intake of breath.
When he glanced at Morse, he saw that the lad looked panic-stricken.
What the –
And then he put the pieces together and almost cursed pout lot. He should have realized. He had known they were getting along much better than before, that they had grown closer –
He hadn’t realized just how close.
Morse was till struggling to find something to say.
And so he decided that he was going to let him off the hook for now. “Well, just try and get along, will you? Strange looked stressed.”
Morse took a relieved breath. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
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Now, Fred knew about men like… men like jakes and Morse, he supposed.
He knew it was forbidden, but he himself had a long history of turning a blind eye when he could. He had never felt like people should be punished for who they loved. He’d had a sergeant, in the war, who’d hinted occasionally at having a partner at home instead of the wives Fred and the other chaps had spoken of and he had been one of the best men he’d ever known.
Still…
He supposed he was a little concerned about Morse and Jakes – well.
First of all, he didn’t think it was a good sign that they were pretending not to like each other at all in order to hide what they were doing behind closed doors. It didn’t strike him as healthy.
And then… well, again, he had believed that Jakes was slowly coming round to Morse but… deeper feelings?
What he was trying to say was that – he just wanted to make sure all was well between them.
And so, he began to watch them.
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The first clue that his fears had been unfounded came that very night. Seeing as the case had been harrowing for all of them, he had opted to send Morse and Jakes home and let himself be driven by a PC himself.
So he was surpassed when he exited his office and heard their voices. They appeared to be coming from file storage and he almost subconsciously stole over, walking as quietly as he could.
“And you’re sure he knows?”
“He figured it out” Morse sounded miserable. I’m sorry. I tried to be subtle, but when he asked –“
“Hey”. Clothes rustling, and Fred had the sudden and distinct impression that jakes had drawn Morse into his arms. “He didn’t say anything against it, did he? And he certainly didn’t treat us any differently.”
“No” he said quietly.
“See? All’s well, then. You know the Old Man can be discreet when he needs to, and I don’t think he has a problem with it unless we start snogging in front of him.”
Morse giggled. Actually giggled. “That would be interesting, though. And just imagine Strange’s reaction”.
Jakes laughed, low and happy, and Fred knew then that what they had was real.
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After that day, they no longer pretended they weren’t at least friends, although to Fred’s relief they remained careful.
He was rather sure Strange still didn’t have a clue. Trewlove might have guessed, tough, and it seemed like Doctor DeBryn knew – at east when Morse got injured yet again, it was him who automatically called Jakes to let him know what had happened.
All in all, Morse looked healthier and more content than he had in the recent past, and that was enough for Fred to be happy as well.
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Time went on. The happy trend of Morse taking better care of himself continued, and he’d even begun to dress sharper, which Fred attributed to Jakes.
They still managed to get by without letting anyone know.
Even if Superintendent Bright had lately done a few allusions to Morse and Jakes and their improved relations.
They had agreed to keep silent. After all, Morse and Jakes were both excellent detectives ion their own way.
And then there was the thing that Win had said earlier today.
As they drove to yet another crime scene – Morse was driving and Jakes was in the back – he said, “Our Win’s been wondering if you two would like to come over for dinner this weekend.”
During that dinner, both Fred and Jakes would laugh at the look on Morse’s face at that moment.
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Irresistible - Chapter 1
Pairing: Pete Wentz x Female Reader
Rating: Teen
Requested By: None
Author’s Note: Although not specifically requested by her, all my Pete Wentz stories are dedicated to @glittercupcakes-and-squats. Also this is written in first person because it felt right. I know I don’t do that a lot, but I hope you all enjoy!
It was a quiet Thursday afternoon as I busied myself organizing and straightening up the display cases of glittering diamonds and other gems set into gold and platinum. Working in one of the most high-end jewelry stores in Chicago was a unique experience, and I had been working there for long enough to know what I was doing.
You don’t become the top earning salesperson in a store like this by gossiping and being inattentive. I had worked hard to build up a reputation of trust and confidentiality. Men came in one day with their wives, then with their mistress the next, and I knew not to mix up the two. Trust fund kids came in and blew tons of cash on watches and earrings that they lost in no time but had to replace to maintain their social status, but I never scolded them or mentioned it when their parents came in. The nouveau riche came in to spend as much money as possible to show off, and as much as I wanted to call them out on their lack of taste, they tended to be the best customers, throwing around money like it was nothing. To the wealthy what mattered was what everyone else thought about them, the first impression they made without saying a word. Image was everything.
When the door opened, and a couple of men walked in, I instantly eyed them up. They were a little old and too nicely dressed to be trust fund kids, no rings on their fingers meant they were single, or at least acting like it that afternoon. I could stand to earn a healthy commission if I played my cards right. They browsed the displays for a moment before I approached them with my best customer service face on.
“Good afternoon gentlemen, can I help you find something in particular?”
“I’m looking for a birthday present,” the one with the dark brown hair and eyes replied. He looked familiar, I’m certain he’s been in here before, but not often enough that I know him by name. Not to mention he was good looking; the gift is probably for one of his many girlfriends. “Maybe some earrings?”
“Is this for a significant other, spouse, family?”
“Oh, just a friend,” he grinned. Yep, called it.
“How about these?” his friend asked pointing to a pair of studs down the way. He seemed nervous and a bit overwhelmed. He wasn’t the type to usually shop in a place like this, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he was back one day looking for an engagement ring to impress a girl with expensive taste.
I moved down the counter and bent down to retrieve them from the case. Standing back up, I leaned forward, making the low-cut neckline of my black dress help make the sale for me. “These are gorgeous, and they’re very classic. You have a good eye,” I replied while shooting a smile to the friend. He smiled back shyly. What a sweetheart.
“Yea Trick, those are nice, but what else do you have?” The first man asked with a million-dollar smile. I smiled back, if he was looking to drop some money, I was more than willing to oblige.
“I have some just down here that you may appreciate, just one moment,” I replied as I hurried down the row of counters. Just then Bernard, the owner of the store, came out from his office.
“Pete! So good to see you!” He greeted the dark-haired man warmly with a handshake.
“Bernard, how are you doing? I see business is still booming.”
“Of course, thanks to the likes of you and your father,” he said with a knowing laugh. “Come, I have brand new Rolex I want you to see. Come, come,” he said ushering him along to a different counter.
I was fuming. Bernard had personal relationships with so many of his customers, which was to be expected, but it meant he frequently stole sale from me. Old bastard.
I put away the earrings I had pulled to show them and stomped into the back office. One day I’d have my own store and I’d run Bernard out of business. He’d come crawling to me for a job, selling my designs instead of the same old Rolex every executive in the Chicagoland area already wore.
I glanced at my phone and saw Christine had texted me and Jennifer about going out for happy hour. After an afternoon like this, there was no way I wasn’t going out.
~
When I got to the club, the girls were already there, and had a drink waiting for me. They’re too good to me, honestly. Jennifer was an investment banker who worked too damn hard in my opinion, so the fact that Christine got her out of her apartment after work was a miracle unto itself. Christine was a walking good time. A professional photographer with a rock star boyfriend, honestly if I could be her, I would.
“Not a good day today?” Jennifer asked as I sat down.
“Just the same old bull, ya know?” I replied before taking a swig of my drink. The club was loud, and I vaguely felt like we were getting too old for this scene. “I get that Bernard knows these people, but I’m building my own client base, future clients, and they aren’t going to come to me when I get out on my own if they don’t remember me.”
“Well maybe if you focused on something besides your job, you wouldn’t worry about your job so much,” Christine suggested knowingly.
I rolled my eyes. “Easy for you to say, you got like the hottest man on earth, you work for yourself, and travel everywhere whenever you want.”
“Speaking of hot guys though,” Jennifer piped up. “That one keeps looking over at you, (YN).”
I tried to keep it cool and not obviously stare the direction she was looking, but I had to admit I was surprised when I saw who she was talking about.
Pete.
“Oh, I met him today in the store, he was buying a gift for a friend,” I said turning back to my friends. I could trust these two not to spread any gossip around. They were as discreet as me, ya know except for when I was telling them everything.
“That must be the lucky lady,” Christine said as a tiny blonde thing in a tiny dress opened gifts. “Ope, (YN), she’s all over your man, he must have got her something good.”
“He is not my man. He wouldn’t ever be my man, even if he was interested in me. I know how these rich playboys operate. I’m not looking to be cheated on, I’m not looking to be a side piece, I’m no fool. I gotta find someone sensible like Kingston.”
Christine scoffed. “Did you just call my man child of a boyfriend, a musical genius, but otherwise loveable idiot, sensible?”
“Ok, you know what I mean, he’s loyal, that’s rare these days.”
“That’s true,” Jennifer chimed in.
“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but were you helping me at the jewelry store earlier?” I heard Pete ask. My friends were looking at me with wide eyes, wondering how I’d respond. I turned and looked up at him and he was flashing that with that same million-dollar smile.
I nodded in response. “Yea, hi. It’s Pete, right? Did Bernard get you what you needed?”
“That, and then some,” he laughed, adjusting the watch on his wrist. Subtle.
“Good I’m glad,” I smiled politely. Why was he over here talking to me when there were half a dozen girls waiting to fawn over him at his table. I spotted his friend from earlier, who still looked uncomfortable. Poor guy.
“I felt badly that Bernard interrupted, and I didn’t get your name,” he said with a soft look.
“Oh, right, I’m (YN),” I said extending my hand for a handshake, intending to keep things professional. “Yea, he does that sometimes, but he owns the place, so what can I do?”
“Well (YN), I was wondering if you’d like to dance?”
I could feel my friends’ eyes drilling in the back of my head, I could practically hear them yell ‘yes!’ for me, but I wasn’t convinced. “Aren’t you here with the girl you bought those earrings for? Or maybe another girl who you’ll be in buying earrings for eventually?”
“Don’t worry about it, they’re just friends,” he laughed.
“I don’t believe you,” I said shaking my head.
“(YN)!” I heard Jennifer scolding me.
“Why not?” Pete looked offended.
“I know your type. Always showing off with the expensive clothes, and cars and lavish gifts and parties to impress girls who just like the big bank account. But you don’t really mind, because you aren’t looking for something serious. You’re just having fun,” I shrugged.
“You should give me a chance,” he said with a look that almost made me believe him. But I wasn’t going to be swayed that easily.
“Why? I’m not looking to get my heart broken and an expensive necklace as a consolation prize.”
“I’m not like the other guys that come into your store,” he said sincerely. At this point he was crouching down to my level where I sat, looking in my eyes, but I willed myself to stay strong. There was absolutely no denying that he was gorgeous, but that wouldn’t keep the gold diggers away. Just the opposite.
“Sorry Pete, it’s late, and I gotta open up the shop tomorrow. I’ll see you the next time you stop by,” I said taking the last sips of my drink and turning back to my friends. “Either of you wanna share an Uber?”
“What is wrong with you?” Christine practically growled when Pete was out of earshot.
“I’m tired and I wanna go home, and like I said, I don’t wanna be a side piece! Now are we sharing an Uber or not?”
Chapter 2
#pete wentz x reader#pete wentz fan fic#pete wentz fan fiction#pete wentz imagine#fall out boy fan fic#fall out boy fan fiction#fall out boy imagine
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Thursday
As my notebook sits in my lap while driving the winding roads of Echo Canyon and I scribble these thoughts onto the page, I know I must write. There is a being inside me screaming to get out. Clawing its way to the surface not knowing what form to take but yearning to be seen and heard - but where to begin? Maybe I’ve had it all wrong and the beginning isn’t the place to start at all. Maybe the answer is in the present moment in the form of this small town in Wyoming. Maybe the answer is to work my way back to the beginning.
“If you ever hear that crying in the distance like some siren.
Maybe there's a singer with no ring around their little finger, no love
And If I lose my voice
If I have no choice but to go quiet
Won't you sing for me a melody into the night there
Well, if I die too young, if the wolf he comes
Fee-fi-fo-fum
If I die too young, oh, if the locust come
Well then, run, run, run Free,”
Kevin Morby sings to me in my headphones and I recall my day.
How do I go from helping run a company and having 40 or so employees to suddenly lying in bed with no place to go,” I think to myself. I can already tell by how high the sun is that I’ve slept too long. My phone begins to ring and I am painfully reminded that my work here is not yet done. I feel stuck and ashamed that even though I wish I had more to do it feels like too much of a challenge to answer the phone and say, “hello,” as if I wasn’t stuck in my head contemplating my existence. None of the calls were from M which made me sink my face further into the pillow. It takes me a while to get out of bed but I eventually make my way to the kitchen and boil water for the french press. As I look around at the disheveled room I muster up enough energy to throw some clothes in the wash and file the paper work accumulating at the foot of my bed. I throw away old coupons and scribbled notes only to uncover a few envelopes addressed to ------ “little bit” MD which I hover over a moment before ripping up and throwing away only to panic and piece them together one last time as if it would save our friendship. I look at my phone and toss it to the bed after I see a few missed calls and texts from all the wrong people. I eat my breakfast and spend too much time cleaning and tinkering but not actually getting anything done besides listening to the same song on repeat which I’m convinced I must have set a record somewhere.
This is how my life goes. I get grand ideas and just as I start to go after them I let myself get side tracked by an adventure or man and feel as high as the moon until I’m disappointed to the point of oblivion or loneliness and next thing I know I’m off on a run trying to shake the feeling, eating a cookie in my car in the middle of the night, or sitting alone in my room wondering how so many hours have passed waiting for the next bout of inspiration.
NOON
I’m late for my meeting and it’s at this moment M decides to tell me how happy and free he is followed by a picture of him and his lover. It sounds as if he is saying goodbye after being MIA for a day and a half and I try not to curse as I realize things will never change. I have been a slave to his insecure temperament or better yet my own. While in the meeting I hear people share about needing one another and living a life we don’t deserve and all I can say before getting choked up to the point of embarrassment is that the insidiousness of my alcoholism and dis·ease creeps up and makes me so uncomfortable I could crawl out of my skin and how grateful I am to have their support. Some days I shine so bright I could light the souls of everyone in the room and stand up against old fuddy duddy’s trying to scold newcomers into staying sober and some days saying something -anything - out loud seems like a triumph. I talked with M A after the meeting and agreed to stop by her house to potentially rent it and again looked at her with appreciation and my first smile of the day as she talked with a big grin followed by an innocent giggle after talking which always warms my heart and leaves me wanting to heal her broken and newly sober heart after the passing of her husband, almost as if she was my own grandmother.
Lunch with G, a retired english teacher and pastor, and J, the retired hot shot executive who now walks with a cane but never misses a moment to share one of his wild stories of the high life never fails to make me laugh. Today they both gave me praises about being a joy to the rooms and started to pry about my love life and family. We had a lengthy conversation about my unwillingness to give up my autonomy to settle down followed by some of J’s stories of past wives and luxury problems like a prince wanting to marry his wife and how he worked too much and his children didn't like him dating someone his own age. G and I laughed and then I dove into my many questions about love and loss and why they thought the relationships failed adding in talk of finance and how they both got from point a to point b. By the end of the talk we had discussed the bible and religion, a woman on a leash getting out of a limo in Las Vegas, and a couple fatherly nudges to pursue my own career. There was talk of job opportunities and the argument about going to school to pursue money vs. dreams and if I was on the hunt for love or God or both. We eventually hugged and parted ways. I internally thanked them for filling my head with confidence.
Later, after walking around a local farmers market and running into a few friends I cruised over to M A’s house and spent an hour talking about her late husbands archeological work and her art work and then a story of how the two met. I watched her eyes sparkle as she reminisced about the beginning of their relationship and found myself feeling better and better. As she spoke about falling in love with the last blind date she ever went on I was reminded how much joy it brings me to simply have the privilege to hear so many stories. What a simple yet beautiful gift to peek into the lives of others gaining a bit of insight on what makes them tick. There seems to be some sort of answer or truth in it all but I can’t quite figure out what.
On my way home I received a call from --- inviting me to stop by and since I was on a roll I did just that. He drank and smoked pot and we laughed at how crazy of a summer it has been. We sat on the porch and looked over the acres of land and maybe it was the sunset or the booze talking but somewhere in our reflection of the difficult times and agreeing on the importance of having each others back he began to cry. For whatever reason on this particular night he shared with me what happened to him at age 27, a freak accident on the farm in which he backed over his friend, taking his life. It was all so heavy and I flashed through our entire friendship and his drug and alcohol use in the few years I knew him and before I knew what I was saying I asked if he believed in God or a higher power. I turned towards him and said, “it’s okay to forgive yourself. Do you know that?” I pointed to the mountains and the sun setting and insisted that there had to be a beautiful loving higher power with a greater plan and that some things happen for no reason. “It’s okay to let go and move forward. It was an accident and you can let go now. it’s okay.” And just like that, there was my inspiration. It’s in the stories of these strangers and friends. It is kinsmanship following tragedy. It is the shared moments in between all the things we ever hoped for. And just like that the gratitude for my life set in. I realized what strength is within me and how precious life is. So precious that I shouldn’t have to feel guilty for knowing what I want in my career, in my love life, and with my time. If I can experience this much in one day without worry about a HIM or an IT then what would life look like after a week or a month. If I can be so filled up after just half a day spent with others then what might I look like if I practiced letting those moments fill my spiritual cup rather than the connections I have?
I know this day was special but I’m too tired to continue.
Until soon.
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Druck season 2, episode 8 reaction
Things go to hell pretty quickly, except Björn, who doesn’t go to hell fast enough.
Episode 8
Clip 1 - Happy ending for now
Mia and Alexander head into school together. Their little sideways smiles at each other warm my cold heart, I’ll admit. She hands him his keys so she drove his car. There was a windshield wiper situation, heh. Really I just love how they’re looking at each other, like they’re deeply pleased to be with each other. I know that seems obvious, but for some reason a lot of fictional couples spend so much time having drama that they don’t seem to actually enjoy each other’s company. Something I like about Mia and Alex is that I do think that they enjoy just hanging out and talking to each other about whatever. It’s not just about attraction, I do feel like there’s some inherent compatibility there.
Mia is rocking that red lipstick, by the way. It seems particularly bold today, reflecting her mood, I guess.
Mia and Alex hold hands when they get inside and people stare, I assume because Alexander Hardenberg is holding hands with a girl. He’s dating someone? Not just banging her??? And it’s Alexander Hardenberg of the Hotel Hardenberg fortune, you know, he’s a big deal at this school.
Also, they’re basically announcing themselves as a power couple, lmao. Let me put it this way, if fandom hadn’t come up with Winterberg as a ship name, the students themselves would have, because that couple is a big deal.
LMAO, Druck gets in its own version of the “I’m so hungover from the weekend”/”It’s Wednesday” exchange from Skam when Kiki says she’s still hungover from the Tangore party and Mia says that was two days ago. I fucking love that they managed to work in that iconic line somewhere without totally copying the scene. (Again, I have to ask: what was Julie’s inspiration for that moment? Did those girls win a walk-on contest?)
Mia and Alexander are going to the movies on Thursday, Valentine’s Day. You know, they’ve actually established movies as a thing that both of them enjoy, a common interest? I know liking movies is not exactly an obscure trait, but we’ve seen Mia and Alexander have a movie night where they both discuss movies briefly, and a day where they watch a film in bed together, and now they plan to go to the movies on Thursday. Mia has a pic of an outdoor movie screen on IG. I forgot if there were anything else, but it’s a small detail that makes it feel more like a real relationship.
We get a Kiki/Carlos conversation as they walk away, so super POV break, although not unusual for Druck. Kiki asks Carlos what they’re doing for Valentine’s Day and he says that’s just something the Americans invented, like Halloween. Carlos, I’m not gonna stand for lumping Halloween and Valentine’s Day together like one isn’t an extremely fun day where as a kid you wear a costume and get a lot of free candy and the other isn’t an extremely bleak day where as an adult you wear sweatpants and eat a whole bag of candy you bought yourself while you try not to think about your love life or lack thereof.
Kiki says she likes Halloween, however, and Carlos pretends to be a zombie and attacks her. It is extremely cute. I’m glad the German Magnus/Vilde equivalent proved to be so delightful, I wouldn’t even mind seeing these two being gross at each other. (I mean. Don’t push it.)
Mia hugs Hanna happily, and Hanna says, “Happy Ending?” which in a fictional context with three episodes to go might as well be putting a curse on Mia. She also knows that Mia and Alex are going to the movies on Valentine’s Day. Already? Alex just said that downstairs? Mia says Kiki is unbelievable. So Kiki just texted that to the girls right then and there, in the middle of a zombie attack no less. That is a special skill
There’s some very cute girl squad interaction, Sam filmed Mia and Alex holding hands, all the girls are so happy that Mia is happy, everybody’s cool with each other, no more drama, yay!
Except some drama, because Mia asks Hanna about Jonas, Hanna is stressed because Jonas is all freaked out because boy Sam flirted with her. I love Jonas but he needs to chill. Poor Hanna has other things to worry about, and you’re not dating anymore so she can flirt with anyone she wants.
Clip 2 - Violence is not the answer but hit him harder
Alex twirls Mia adorably. I’ve said this before but they’re a really enjoyable couple on just a clip-by-clip basis, watching them interact. A scene of them doing mundane tasks like grocery shopping or doing laundry together would probably be entertaining. Assuming Alexander does not pay someone to deliver his groceries or do his laundry.
He’s taking her to an indoor skate park. He did have that skateboard in his apartment! They managed to work in a skater despite German Jonas being more of a musician.
Alex says he goes here to blow off steam. Mia asks if he means from school, and I do not think he actually means from school, probably all his family and personal drama. He clearly knows some guy there and is friendly with him. It’s great that we see Alexander have like … actual interests and hobbies considering that was one of my gripes about William, I had no idea what he did in his free time.
Lol, watching someone else skate is not the most exciting date, like what a typical sidelined-girlfriend activity. I mean, I do think in a relationship you want to learn about your partner’s hobbies and it’s probably really exciting for Mia getting this insight into Alexander, fun to just watch him when they’re in the glow of their new relationship. But on Skam and the remakes we had the Evas watching their Jonases skate, basically them being passive, the Jonases being active. Though I feel like that was part of the point about that relationship, with Jonas having more of an identity and Eva just being a tag-along, and the context is pretty different here with Mia and Alexander. But damn, what’s with all these dudes bringing their girlfriends to dates where the girls are just spectators to the guys’ fun? Where are all the girls and their skateboards? Or where are all the guys watching their girlfriends play sports? It’s not really a criticism of the show, just an observation. We know Mia is driving Alexander’s car so I’m going to headcanon that she also borrows his skateboard.
Lol, Mia even sees the women on the sidelines and is like, are you the players wives and girlfriends? There’s a whole group of women just hanging out and watching their guys do stuff! But they seem nice and offer her a drink.
So I actually missed the first time around that there’s a text message where they plan this outing. It’s Mia who asks about watching him skateboard. She also asks if she can try and he teases her by saying it’s just for boys. Lol, I love that it played out like that and that it’s her idea. I’m sure in the future once their relationship heals, Mia will get her own chance with the skateboard.
We see Alexander skateboarding and being dorky, Mia smiling as she watches him. It’s all fun and games until Björn shows up. The upbeat 50 Cent song fades out and there’s a brief moment where there’s like a tense sound effect as Mia waves to him. It’s gone when Alexander skates over, so it’s like it’s establishing specifically this ominous connection between Björn and Mia, which we know turns into something awful later.
Alexander is pissed and wants to know how Mia knows Björn, and she explains that he was in the flat when she stayed over at Alex’s place. Alexander is being somewhat alarming with his demanding answers from Mia, although his anger obviously is not targeted at her and is motivated by this scumbag not only being in his presence, but having some sort of acquaintance with another person he cares about. After losing Sophie, the thought of losing Mia because of Björn is terrifying. Like I get why Alexander freaks out, knowing that Björn was in his flat, and not only that, but when Mia was alone there and didn’t have a clue who this guy really is and that he’s dangerous.
Alexander walks over and hits Björn with a skateboard twice, so Björn is crumpled on the ground gasping for breath. We get that ringing in the ears sound which is both Björn dealing with getting whacked and Mia having a harsh reality crash into her beautiful love story. People pull Alex away and someone says to call an ambulance, Alexander runs off. He shoots Mia some glances before running, so I’m wondering if he realizes he fucked up, or is just concerned about her well-being, or scared what she thinks of him now, all the thoughts running through his head.
I mean, … violence is not the answer and I do think Alexander should face consequences for that action because that’s just how it works. BUT it’s hard for me to be appalled at this knowing what Björn did to Sophie and later did to Mia. He’s an abuser. Even when this clip first aired and we didn’t have the full story of Björn’s history, I was like, well, if Björn raped/assaulted/did something bad to Alex’s sister, and she’s dead because of it, then I have a hard time judging him for this.
But I also don’t care for William smashing the bottle over that guy’s head, which is essentially the equivalent scene. Is that hypocritical? I’d argue that they’re two different circumstances, and that William didn’t need to do what he did. I think a big difference is that the situation with the Yakuza boys might have been able to be prevented before it got out of hand just by going to the police, which William dismissed at the time as naive. Alexander didn’t need to attack Björn either, but Björn probably wasn’t ever going to face justice for abusing Sophie and influencing her death. Again, not that it’s justified, but I can admit that on a gut level I get it more.
And honestly, looking at the whole season, a lot of it has to do with the respective degrees of investment in this situation by Mia and Noora. The Yakuza plot seems very impersonal because Noora doesn’t have a solid connection to it herself; the whole time she’s a bystander. She watches Chris get out of the car with a black eye, she sees Isak get into Chris’ car, she observes the fight. Sure, Chris and Jonas get beat up and William might face punishment, but she feels so outside what happened. Mia, on the other hand, gets very personally involved in the Björn drama. Björn preys on her, and even aside from that, Mia is more up close and personal with the effects of Björn’s behavior on Alex such as the panic attack. Ultimately it just feels like the Yakuza dudes are a nebulous menace with nebulous motives, I don’t even know the name of the dude who got a bottle smashed on his head, and that makes less aligned with William and more skeptical of his motives in attacking that guy, but I do have a clear idea of who Björn is, why he’s a bad guy, and what he did to Alexander and his family, and later Mia, and so I just find this more engaging and Alexander more sympathetic, even if I get that these are both inappropriate actions.
Intellectually I’m like: violence is bad, vigilante justice is bad, don’t do that, Alexander needs to learn to control his anger. Emotionally I’m all: kick his ass.
Clip 3 - Someone needs to adopt Michi
Mia comes home and flops on her bed. She’s been texting Alex and trying to get in touch with him to no avail. Alex, dude, that is a bad move. Even if you need to cool off and clear his head, you’re leaving your girlfriend in the dark over an extremely shocking, possibly traumatizing moment. Plus, you know, leaving her open to sympathizing and possibly being manipulated by Björn, the guy who ruined your life and Sophie’s.
Linm comes in and offers her soup in Chinese. Michi comes in because he heard someone offering food. Relatable as fuck, my boomerang friend.
Actually he came in because he said Hans went to get pizza but Michi doesn’t know if he’s coming back. DUDE, Hans, did you really go out for pizza but not see if your boy wanted any? You ditched him?
Also, this seems like a parallel to Mia and Alex, which I thought might happen. Hans ditched Michi like Alex ditched Mia. Michi asks if Alex cheated on Mia, with what seems like a casual tone, like it’s expected, which is depressing if you think he’s used to that in his relationship. Mia asks him to leave, lmao.
Mia tells what happened at the skate park to Linn. Linn asks what happened to Björn. You can see Mia get an idea. Oh no, don’t talk to Björn before Alex gives you the story! We know where this is going!!
Clip 4 - Fuck Valentine’s Day
It’s Valentine’s Day. Mia walks through the rain as we hear her leaving Alex a message about being worried about him. The music has some apropos lyrics: “And if you dream you fix me / And if you stay you hurt”
Mia waits outside of the movie theater, like they planned. They’re showing Casablanca. I’m trying to think up some symbolic reason why it might be that movie, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen Casablanca. Errr, it doesn’t have a happily ever after for the couple?
The marquee says “Valentine’s Day Surprise” which is not inaccurate, lol, it’s just a fucking shitty surprise for Mia. She waits for him. Another happy couple shows up and rubs their romance in her face. Always a great feeling on V-Day! A dude in an Alex-typical coat and hoodie strolls up just to rub his Alexness in her face. She’s being hit with reminders of her fraught love situation like pies to the face.
Mia gets a call, not from Alex, from Hanna, saying she got a message from Jonas telling her that if she went to Sam’s gig, that’s it for him. WTF, Jonas? “It” as in him and Hanna? Stop being a drama king. You guys broke up. IDK if there’s a clarification in German, but could he also be like his well-being/stability is over if Hanna goes to the gig? Because that’s even more extreme. No matter what, it’s manipulative. He’s putting something about his quality of life on Hanna, like what is she supposed to do? Not go because it will make Jonas upset?
Mia is getting emotional about being stood up on Valentine’s Day and seeing happy couples show up to the theater isn’t helping. She throws away her card and the movie tickets and leaves.
Bad move, Alex. You could have at least sent her a text. Even if you didn’t want to explain, just say you can’t make it to the movie so she doesn’t wait outside in the rain on Valentine’s Day.
Clip 5 - Happy ending my ass
Mia goes to see Björn, who’s in the hospital. She got the info from a girl at the skate park. The lighting in this room is very warm and bright and I wonder if that’s intentional, to create a sense of security and trustworthiness and to influence us into thinking this guy doesn’t seem so bad. It just struck me immediately when you compare it to Mia outside, or previous clips of her waiting for Alex at the theater.
Mia wants some answers. Björn says he was dating Sophie, who lived in Bali, and when Mia asks if she came back, Björn is like … she died. Shit, so she is dead. I thought they might make her alive but dealing with serious consequences of being with Björn. I will say I am surprised Mia didn’t find any news of Sophie’s death during her Google stalking, or from people gossiping, but I can also buy that the family tried to keep it quiet, especially because of her manner of death. He says that Alexander told her something totally different, and the way he says it, he’s presenting it like, of course Alexander has lied to her, not surprising, like he knows Alexander is the untrustworthy one. We hear that same ringing sound that happened when Alex was attacking Björn, because again, it’s Mia’s world getting rocked, it’s the happy ending being overturned, she’s learning upsetting things about Alexander.
Mia is upset and Björn comes off all comforting, saying it’s not her fault, the whole family is broken. He tells her about the dysfunctional family dynamic and describes Alex’s charming act. Obviously this applies more to Björn rather than Alexander, down to Sophie falling for the act, but it’s unclear how much Björn knows he’s fucked up or whether he’s just projecting like an IMAX. Or you know, lying.
Björn says Sophie committed suicide and that she always suffered from depression but it didn’t fit in with the image her family wanted. Björn and Sophie planned to go to Bali and travel after graduation, but the family didn’t like Björn and constantly tried to get her to come back. I bet Mia is reacting to this strongly because of her relationship with her own family. She also has parents who try to get her to fit into their own image and come back to them when she’s living independently, parents who don’t seem to really get her. It seems like they were most concerned about Mia being away from them because of how people talked about it, not necessarily because they missed her.
You can see why Mia believes him, because this dude isn’t like, radiating an evil aura. He’s very convincing in his manipulation. He seems sincere about caring for Sophie and very broken up about what happened to her. And Alex did lie to Mia about Sophie, and he had a sudden incident of violence, and Björn happens to be hitting close to home when he describes Sophie’s relationship with her family. I get that we know as a viewer that Björn is bad news, but Mia? Mia doesn’t have the benefit of knowing she’s on a TV show and that this storyline played out with a Norwegian girl already.
As Mia leaves, Björn tells her to stay away from Alex, he’s dangerous. And Mia has reason to think this is correct. I mean, she went to meet Björn at a hospital, because Alexander put him there.
When Mia steps outside, she finally gets a text from Alex saying he was at his parents’ place to clear his head and he wants to meet. LMAO, dude, it’s not like you went to a spa to take a break from studying for exams, you ran off and ghosted your girlfriend for days after beating up a guy in front of her. You need to offer a way bigger apology than that. Especially because you want to meet with her? Do you think she necessarily wants to meet up with a guy who’s physically violent?
I like Mia’s face as she walks away. She’s not crying or anything, but she just gives off this sense of being torn and turning over what she just heard in her head. She puts in her earbuds and even though she’s not literally muffling Alexander’s voice like in that previous clip where he meets her in front of her place, in a way it feels like it’s a sign of her blocking him out. She doesn’t wait for his response after she tells him she met Björn, that’s all she needs to say and she’s done.
Social Media/General Comments:
As I mentioned above, Mia and Alexander planned the skateboard date. I wonder what fun activity Alexander will observe of Mia’s? He’s already seen her piano-playing, the true reveal will be when he walks in on her ironing to classical music. Now that tells you a lot about a person.
Mia tried to get answers from boy Sam about Alex’s whereabouts and what the hell happened, but Sam does not tell her anything except to find out from Alex himself. I can respect that, honestly. It might be frustrating for Mia, but Sam isn’t giving away his best friend’s sad backstory without his permission.
Both of Mia’s parents contact her this week:
Her dad makes small talk and then asks if she knows where her mom went, never a good sign. That makes it seem like the mom walked out on him.
Her mom wants to come to Berlin and hang out with Mia. She complains about Mia’s dad getting on her nerves and how they’re so different and she doesn’t know why she got with him. You know, all stuff that you should maaaaybe not dump on your teenage daughter about her father. Tell that shit to a friend. Also, there’s something childish about it, not just the complaining, but that she wants to hang with Mia as a way to escape Mia’s father, not necessarily because she wants to see her daughter.
Druck conveniently did not have to provide any footage from boy Sam’s secret concert by having the invitation state NO PHOTOS - NO INSTA. Saved them the time and expense of staging a performance just for the SM content.
Jonas was bitter about the concert but what else is new. Stupid sexy Sam and his stupid sexy music, being in proximity to Hanna.
Hanna went ahead and posted a picture of her and boy Sam at the concert despite Jonas warning her that it’d be over if she went, which is a power move if there ever was one. I love Jonas but fuck if Hanna needs to listen to his dramatic ass.
So Mia had a crappy V-Day where Alex ditched her, Hanna had Jonas drama weighing on her, Amira and Sam seemed unimpressed by Valentine’s Day, judging by IG posts that suggest so. In fact, I think the only couple who had a happy Valentine’s Day, whatever they did, was probably Kiki and Carlos.
I’m not German so please feel free to correct me on stuff like cultural context and translation issues.
If you got this far, thank you for reading!
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