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craniumhurricane · 3 years

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call me, baby, if you need a friend

Cleaning up some old WIPs. This has been in my drafts since end of season 2/around season 3.

Basically 4 times Clarke calls Bellamy and 1 time that Bellamy calls Clarke.

Thank you @casleyislove and @sushigirlali for always reading things before I post them!

[ On AO3! ]

___

(i)

It's a quiet night in at the Blake apartment. Or, at least, for Bellamy it is. He's having a nice Friday night by himself after surviving a truly grueling week of finals. Octavia tried to convince him to go out and celebrate the end of the semester the "right way," but he turned her down… he's still not quite sure how he managed to do that.

His feet are currently propped up on the coffee table with a large bowl of store brand cocoa puffs in his lap. Bellamy may be an adult but damn if he isn’t going to celebrate the end of the term with sugary cereal… nevermind that he didn’t actually make time to grocery shop this week. The TV was queued and ready for the marathon of Ancient Aliens episodes he’d missed due to studying, and he was just about to press play when he hears a short but insistent buzzing sound.

Glancing around, his eyes land on Octavia’s phone sitting on the corner of the coffee table. She must have left it in her hurry to leave since she was running late to meet up with her boyfriend.

Bellamy keeps his eyes on it for a second before deciding to ignore it, and once again his finger hovers over the play button on the remote. Then the phone lights up again, this time with a phone call; a picture of Octavia and a curly haired blonde that he recognizes, the name CLARKE THE GRIFFIN flashing across the screen. He considers ignoring it for a second time but... if she’s resorting to actually calling instead of texting again then something could be seriously wrong.

Bellamy swipes his thumb across the screen to answer and brings the phone to his ear but before he can even say anything a voice on the other side interjects immediately.

“Men are dicks,” the woman says without preamble. “No! Worse than that. They're weird tumors that grow on dicks," she pauses, seems to think about it, and then adds, "Preferably life threatening.”

Bellamy blinks a few times before he answers, “I'm sure you're right, but don't you think that's a bit harsh?”

The line is quiet. He can hear her shifting the phone, no doubt checking the screen to make sure she called the right person.

“Octavia?”

“Bellamy.”

Clarke huffs. “Where's Octavia?” she snaps. He can hear the annoyance seeping into her tone, which in turn just makes him feel his own frustrations start to rise.

He tamps it down though. “On a date,” he answers.

She deflates at that, “Oh right. One month anniversary with Lincoln.”

He hums a confirmation and then they’re silent for a few minutes. So long that it’s Bellamy’s turn to look at the phone and make sure she’s still there. “Did you need something?” he asks once he sees that the call is still, in fact, in progress.

She takes a deep breath before answering, “I ended things with Finn tonight.”

Bellamy had only met Finn Collins a handful of times; the guy was fine except for a little cocky… and he always seemed to want to show off in front of pretty girls. His hair was too long and always styled like he was some kind of frat boy that came from big money even though Bellamy's 100% sure he never so much as pledged.

And then there was that one time he flirted with Octavia.

Ok, so Bellamy didn’t like the guy. But a break up is still a shitty thing to go through which is why he says, “I’m sorry,” and finds that he means it.

“Not your fault,” Clarke says immediately, “But I was kind of looking for someone to watch me binge drink and listen to me vent.”

He understands that, having gone through the same thing when he broke up with Roma at the start of the term. If you could really call them “hooking up occasionally” the same thing as dating, but still, getting drunk with Miller had been essential in the whole moving on process.

“You want to come over here anyway?” he offers carefully, casually. He doesn’t mind Clarke. She’s younger than him, around Octavia’s age. They aren’t exactly friends, but he would consider them a little more than acquaintances. Enough that it shouldn’t be too weird for him to invite her over even without his sister present. Plus, her getting drunk here is a better alternative than her getting drunk by herself in some bar.

“You don’t mind?” she asks and he thinks he hears relief in her voice, “I was kind of already on my way over to your guy’s place... I don’t really feel like going out and I really don't feel like being depressed and alone in my dorm right now.”

“Nah,” he says and then tries a joke to brighten her spirits, “Sounds like something fun to watch. I’ll order food.”

“Chinese would be great,” and he swears he can hear a smile in her voice so he’ll count his dumb joke as a victory. “Thanks, Bellamy, see you soon.”

He's not even a little bit mad about dumping out his now soggy cereal.

(ii)

“So, you’ve been in school for basically forever. Is it normal for a person to experience this amount of stress?”

Bellamy’s lips twitch as he holds his phone to his ear. After Clarke crashed his Friday night in, and spilled on the whole cheating Finn debacle while they did shots, Bellamy figured he should give her his own cell phone number. As much as he hated to admit it, and honestly he never will, his sister and her boyfriend were getting serious, so who knows how much Octavia would be available for late night bitchfests about significant others, fellow students, and the human population in general. Which were just a few of the topics they discussed that night. Hanging out with Clarke ended up being kind of fun, a better night than he originally planned. She even let him watch a little of his marathon and offered her own commentary. Bellamy would do it again… which is something else he would never admit.

It's not like they suddenly talk every day, but it’s a near thing. They would send each other the occasional text when one of them sees something that the other absolutely has to know about. Mostly, he gets pictures of old dogs she sees at the park, asking if this will be him in 20 years. Bellamy responds in kind with memes about college life and rubbing it in her face that they no longer apply to him since he graduated last semester.

But sometimes she reaches out to him if there is something particularly bothering her. Such as dealing with egotistical dickwads that consider themselves professors and shutting down female students in a male dominated class.

Clarke’s probably the only person that ever calls him and can never start the conversation with a simple ‘Hello’. Actually, she’s probably the only person that actually still calls him.

“I just got a job teaching so that insult isn't going to work anymore since I literally will be in a school as part of my job,” is his first response before he turns to one of concern, “Midterms got ya down?”

“It’s just,” she gives an exasperated sigh before continuing, “I want to do something that helps people, I know I want to help people… But maybe I don't want to help people the way my mom wants me to help people...ya know?”

“You’re going to have to give me more to go on here, Princess-”

“I’m thinking about switching my major,” she says abruptly, like she’s ripping off a band aid.

He’s silent, waiting to see if she’s going to say anything else. When it becomes clear she’s waiting for him to say something he responds honestly, “If being a doctor isn’t something you want to do, then you shouldn’t do it.”

“But-”

“What your mom wants you to do shouldn’t overrule what you want to do, Clarke,” he interrupts her. Due to the increasing amount of time he’s been spending with Clarke, he’s learned that the Griffins have always had a capital “P” Plan and he knows that Clarke has a hard time knowing when she can push the boundaries of said Plan.

She’s silent again and Bellamy’s starting to think he’s going to have to prod her a second time. He’s got the beginnings of his big speech all prepared when finally she speaks up. “I’m thinking about going into Art Therapy,” She says thoughtfully, “Or maybe teaching? Helping out underprivileged kids...or hell, even underprivileged adults. Or maybe something for the community?”

His lips twitch on another smile at hearing the beginnings of a hint of passion in her voice. “Teaching can be very rewarding,” he says magnanimously.

She snorts and it turns into a full laugh, “You haven't even started yet! It could be the worst thing you’ve ever done and a total waste of your degree.”

“Your confidence in me really is touching,” he deadpans and then adds simply, “You’re an amazing artist, Clarke. I think doing something with that could be something you'd enjoy and be really really good at.”

She’s quiet when she asks, “You think I’m amazing? You’ve never told me that.” And Bellamy swears he can hear that smile in her voice again. The one he always looks forward to. The one he tries to coax out of her without realizing he’s doing it.

He feels his cheeks start to heat up and even though she can't see him, he feels the need to brush it off. “Yeah, well, I generally try to be as dickish as possible so…”

She snorts again and damn if he didn’t feel a slight flutter in his chest.

“For the record, I think you’re going to be an amazing teacher,” she says it so matter-of-factly but he’ll have to dwell on it later because she sobers and then asks softly, “So, you think I should do it?”

It’s not hard for him to build her up. She spends so much time being there for the rest of their slowly merging friend groups that she rarely takes time to see the greatness in herself. He doesn’t mind helping.

“I think you should do whatever the hell you want.”

(iii)

“Women are worse than men.”

Bellamy rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances at the clock; it was almost 3 in the morning. “I thought men were tumors?” he asks around a yawn.

“Yeah, well, women can be tumors too,” Clarke huffs, but she just sounds tired, “Comparing people to tumors is equal opportunity. Strides in feminism are being made, didn’t you know?”

Bellamy pushes himself into a sitting position, suddenly more alert as he picks up the trace of tears in her voice. “You ok?” he asks.

Clarke is silent at first, but he waits her out, he knows that she’ll tell him. “Lexa broke up with me,” she says quietly and then adds in confusion, “Or we broke up with each other? I’m a little unsure. We spent the whole night arguing and then suddenly she was packing up her stuff.” She pauses before taking a shaky breath, “It’s over. We’re over.”

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

“She was leaving anyway,” she continues, bitterly, “Some new job. She was leaving in a few weeks and didn’t even bother to tell me. I told her we could make it work long distance, I was willing to try and make it work. That’s when the arguing started. Not just about that but about-,” Clarke abruptly cuts herself off and hesitates, “about... other things. Things I didn’t even know were an issue.” She’s quiet again before she adds, “She didn’t say it but I think she was disappointed that I never suggested going with her...”

The thought makes a quick flash of irritation run through him. “She wanted you to uproot your entire life and go with her,” he summarizes as he tries to adjust the pillows on his bed by beating them, maybe a little too roughly at the thought of her doing just that, before leaning back against them.

“Which is completely crazy, I know,” she hurries to say, “but I wish we could have talked about it.”

“I am sorry, Clarke,” he says again, “I know Lexa seemed like she was it for you.”

“But maybe she wasn’t?” Clarke counters as if trying to reason with herself. “I don’t know. We were both committed to each other, but maybe this was a sign that we weren’t going to be able to make it work long term?” She pauses and Bellamy can hear the gears in her head turning as she processes a way for her to handle this, too explain it to herself. “When we were together,” she hesitates before continuing, and he can imagine her biting her lip, “I was happy... but I felt like a separate version of myself, ya know? Still me, but not completely me?”

Bellamy chews on the words he wants to say and goes with, “Sometimes the person you're with can change you; it's not always a bad thing.” He gets quiet as he adds thoughtfully, “I like to think Gina made me a better person...and she probably did,” he pauses, this time unsure if he should keep going, but Clarke hasn't said anything, so she must be waiting for him to continue, “We tried, tried really hard, to make it work, but eventually you just realize that maybe the relationship isn't going anywhere and what’s best for everyone is just to call it.”

“Wait, you and Gina broke up?” Clarke asks in surprise, “When did that happen!?”

“That's what you got from that?” He rubs a hand over his face as he thinks about it, “About two weeks ago?”

“Shit,” she says and is quiet before asking in a small voice, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Honestly, I haven't seen a whole lot of you these last few months,” he hears what he said and corrects himself, “We haven’t seen a whole lot of you.” He’s surprised at his ability to keep the bite out of his voice; because the truth was this last year has sucked since Clarke started dating Lexa.

They met at one of Clarke's art gigs. Lexa was cool; fun when she wanted to be, but also a little hard to be around. Most of the time, she seemed to prefer doing things without any of Clarke’s friends.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says.

“It’s fine,” he answers her and means it. “Gina and I are still good friends.”

“I wasn’t talking about you and Gina,” she says, voice soft.

He realizes what she’s actually apologizing for and he doesn’t know what to say. Because of course he forgives her, he will always forgive her.

The silence lasts too long so he clears his throat and prompts, “Want to come over and get drunk?”

Her laugh through the phone breaks the tension, “It’s like 3 o'clock in the morning.”

“My bar is always open.”

She chuckles. “I really want to hit something,” she says with a determined edge to her voice, “Then maybe get drunk.”

“How about this, we get a few more hours of sleep, wake up at a normal time, and go hit something,” he offers and then adds as if it's an afterthought, “And then get drunk, of course.”

She laughs again, “Oh, of course.” There’s that smile. “I forgot what being single with you was like.”

Bellamy sobers at the thought. It has been awhile since the two of them were single at the same time. “Always here to help, Princess.”

(iv)

“Why did I agree to this trip again?”

He’s packing up the essays that are scattered across his desk when she calls, 4 o’clock on the dot. Bellamy tries to suppress a laugh but he’s pretty sure she can at least hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“Just getting back to the hotel?” he asks in lieu of his own greeting.

“Yes!” she exclaims in exasperation. “And if it were up to Josephine, we probably would have walked all of damn Paris tonight,” her voice gets muffled at the end and he can only assume she’s thrown herself face first onto the nearest bed. “I cannot wait for a shower- No! A bath, definitely taking a long, hot bath.”

And now the image of Clarke Griffin in the bath, with just enough bubbles to cover up to her chest, has entered his mind. He shoves it away before anymore thoughts can accompany it.

This used to never be a problem. Sure, he’s always known that Clarke is attractive, but he has never been attracted to her. But ever since he broke up with Gina and she broke up with Lexa, Bellamy has been exceedingly aware of the fact that they have both remained single.

The last time this happened was right after Finn.

Bellamy shakes his head for good measure before responding. “You’re going to fall asleep in the tub and your roommate will find your prune-y, wrinkled body in the morning.” He cringes. Apparently he wasn’t able to get the image of her completely out of his head.

Clarke scoffs, but he can tell that it’s in an exasperated but fond kind of way. “How is it that you manage to be a buzzkill from over 4,000 miles away?” she asks drily and then pauses before adding, “Actually, Josie would probably just leave me in there for the entire trip and never let on that something was up.”

He turns the key to lock his office behind him and heads for the staff lot. “Don’t worry, if you don’t call to check in, I’ll call the National Guard,” he teases.

“I know you would,” she says simply, like it’s a known fact.

Things have been a little weird after he became aware that they were both single. Mostly because, he’s pretty sure that Clarke has also come to realize it. When he turns to look at her, he often finds her already looking. Their innocent touches are now more frequent and linger just a bit longer.

Bellamy has come to realize that he doesn’t want to be single and the reason he doesn’t want to be single is because he wants his best friend to not be single with him.

There’s just never a right time to tell her.

“So, what did you do today?” he asks.

Despite the exhaustion and jetlag that’s surly setting in, Clarke jumps into an animated retelling of the flight and arriving at their hotel room just in time to change clothes and head back out to walk the streets of Paris to get their bearings before their tours officially start tomorrow.

“I’m a little disappointed that we’re doing the Louvre first thing tomorrow. I was hoping to be a little more alert for that.”

“Your coffee addiction hasn’t stopped just because you’re in another country,” he points out as he gets in his car.

She laughs, “Jeez, you are such an ass.”

He starts the car but doesn’t leave just yet; afraid the long distance call will drop out.

“What are you doing now?” he asks into the comfortable silence.

“Admiring the view,” she admits softly. “It really is gorgeous all lit up. Makes me want to dig out my sketchbook.”

“You have a week, Princess,” he chuckles. “Don’t screw up your jetlag even more by losing track of time in your drawings on the first night.”

She’s quiet again before confessing softer somehow, “It also makes me wish you were here.”

His heart clenches in his chest and he wills himself to sound normal. “Maybe next time,” he tries for teasing but it comes out almost wistful.

“Next time, hmmm?” Clarke hums. “You’d come to Paris with me?” And he’s sure she’s flirting with him.

“Well, maybe not for our first date,” he says, “But maybe, like, our fifth or something.”

Clarke’s quiet for a long time and he’s afraid he’s overstepped, misread the room. He’s about to take it back, play it off as a joke when she finally speaks.

“And what would a first date look like?” she asks with what he thinks is hope in her voice.

He swallows a couple of times. “Well,” he starts, “Since you’re already getting some of the best museum experiences, I’d probably settle for dinner and a movie. Something cheesy that’s playing at the dollar theater; where we’re the only ones there and can yell at the screen.”

She chuckles and his heart flutters, “We already do that, Bell. Quite frequently, actually.”

“Yeah, but if it’s a date then I’d get to kiss you at the end of it.”

“What? No making out during the movie?” she asks and he can picture how cute her face gets when she pouts.

A grin spreads across his face and he’s grateful no one can see how goofy he must look.

“We’ll have to make sure it’s a really bad movie.”

(+i)

Clarke rubs some moisturizer on her face before capping the tube and tossing it into her bag on the bed. After ensuring that everything she’s going to need for tomorrow is packed, she zips it up and grabs one of Bellamy’s hoodies to slip on over her clothes.

Ever since he picked her up from the airport when she got back from her trip to Paris, and she ran directly into his arms, giving the other people waiting quite a show, there always seems to be one laying around, waiting for her to find it. She assumes that he gets as much of a thrill out of her wearing them as she does.

She heads down the stairs of their townhouse, passing various pictures and artwork, and shoots Raven one more text not to forget to bring her dress to the venue tomorrow. She’s supposed to help her get ready in the morning along with her mother. In the meantime, Abby has sent a car to pick her up and take her to the hotel. Easier to get ready if she’s already there for the stylist… something else her mother insisted on paying for. No matter how many times Clarke told her she didn’t care what her hair looked like because she was marrying the love of her life.

Clarke locks up the house and greets the driver, slipping into the backseat. She intends to spend the ride lost in thought, going through the checklists that were running through her head.

Their engagement had been on the short side but she didn’t mind. They were both ready to get on with this next chapter in their lives.

Her phone is resting loosely in her hand, face down on her knee, when it starts to vibrate with an incoming call. She holds her breath for a second, praying it isn’t the florist or the caterers. But when she sees the photo of her and Bellamy from New Year’s flash on the screen, she can’t help but smile.

She taps the button and greets him with a sultry, “Hi, handsome.”

“Hey,” he says and she can tell he has a soft smile on his face, the one just for her. “You just leave the house?”

“Yep. On my way to the hotel now, so hopefully you haven’t forgotten anything because it’s too late now.”

“The most important thing is already on its way,” he responds with a teasing lilt.

Clarke can’t help the sharp laugh that escapes her lips, “Oh my god! You are such a sap!”

“I was referring to the ring, obviously, Princess.”

“Oh, obviously,” she says, mock serious.

They chuckle to themselves for a few minutes and she honestly can’t tell if the driver is rolling his eyes or thinks they’re being cute from hearing one side of the conversation.

Bellamy sobers up first only to let out a groan. “I hate whose ever idea this is,” he whines.

“Aren’t you the history professor? Shouldn’t you know where common traditions and such come from?”

He scoffs, “No, I mean I hate whichever of our friends is making us do this.”

The two of them haven’t seen each other since yesterday morning, him having been spirited off by his groomsmen while she was left to spend last night alone in their bed. And now they’re meant to go one more night without seeing each other.

To Bellamy’s point, Clarke isn’t altogether sure why this is a tradition anymore, nor why they are choosing to follow this particular one. She and Bellamy aren’t even that superstitious! And yet somehow they were talked into spending the days leading up to their wedding apart.

“Ah,” she answers him now, “That would be Raven and Miller. Although, I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with marriage traditions and has everything to do with getting back at us for making out in front of them so much.”

Bellamy scoffs again, “Well, jokes on them, because after tomorrow, I don’t ever have to stop kissing you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, “We’ll have to come up to eat at some point.”

The driver pulls up under the awning of the hotel and Clarke gets out and grabs her bag before he’s able to get out and grab it for her. She gives him a wave and a simple thank you before heading through the sliding doors.

“How’s your room?” she asks into the phone as she bypasses the check in desk, her mother having already checked her in and given her the key card to her room this morning when they were getting their nails done.

He heaves a deep sigh. “Lonely,” he answers as she steps into the elevator. From what Clarke knows from his texts, Miller dropped him off here last night and left him to his own devices. Apparently, the best man gets to sleep next to his husband but Bellamy wasn’t allowed to sleep next to his soon-to-be wife.

She makes a split second decision and presses a different button, jolting the elevator to stop sooner than intended. When she steps off she casually offers, “I could help with that.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles. “You going to describe for me what you’re wearing?”

“Hmm,” she hums as if she’s considering it. “I could do that… but I was more thinking that I could show you.”

Clarke stops in front of a door and gives it a nice rhythmic knock.

She doesn’t have to wait long before it’s opening and Bellamy is standing in front of her with his phone against his ear and a huge grin on his face.

She lowers her own phone from her ear, pressing the end button without looking.

“Hi, handsome,” she manages before he’s pulling her into his room.

#no one cares ashleigh #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake x clarke griffin #my fanfiction #i'm going to post this and run away because omg #i feel like this is long and i rambled #and i had some unresolved issues regarding clarke's relationships #anyway #enjoy!

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ericsonclan · 2 years

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Let’s Make a Splash

Summary: Doug and Sisi and Javi and Santiago enjoy a day by the pool.

Word Count: 1125

Read on AO3:

Santiago let out a long, happy sigh as the sun shone against his skin. The sounds of others swimming in the hotel pool were the only noise save for the echo of footsteps moving closer to their destination. Santiago tilted down his sunglasses, a happy smile on his lips when he saw it was his friend.

“Hey there, Sisi. Want to join me in the sun or are you going to make a splash with your boyfriend?”

“Hmm,” Sisi tapped her finger on her chin for a second before plopping down on the sunchair beside her best friend. As she stretched out her legs the sun highlighted the black crisscross swimsuit she was wearing. “I’m going to choose the sun, the pool can wait. Besides, Doug seems to be having fun with Javi,” Sisi smiled over at Santi before a loud, booming voice appeared near the pool.

“CANNONBALL!” Javi threw himself into the air, curled into a tight ball, and caused a gigantic splash and rippling effect on the water’s surface. Doug cheered with enthusiasm, clapping as he sat on a pool noodle like a seahorse. His Superman arm floaties crinkled with the speed at which he was applauding his friend. After a few seconds, Javi emerged from the depths of the pool. He gasped loudly and shook his head, causing his damp hair to plaster oddly against his face. After a few moments of pure happy laughter, he spotted Santiago. “Hey. babe!” Javi waved over at his boyfriend who returned the gesture flirtatiously. Soon Javi’s attention was turned back on his friend though. “I wanna do another one. Come on, Doug, you’re joining in this time!”

“Oh! Okay!” Doug was startled for a second but soon he was paddling over to the edge of the pool. Javi was the first to get up. His arm muscles flexed as he pushed himself out of the water. Once he was free from the pool he brushed his fingers through his hair. A sharp inhale from Santiago made Sisi look over at her friend before laughing.

Santiago quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing, it's nothing,” Sisi placed her sunglasses on and got to work applying sunscreen.

Santi shrugged. “Oh yeah, before I forget, what are you feeling today?”

Sisi looked up from her application with a confident smile. “It’s a she/her kind of day,”

“Alright, good to know,” Santiago repositioned himself so the sun was hitting a new patch of skin. The sound of Javi and Doug’s laughter made both Santi and Sisi look up just in time to see Doug make a huge splash. He popped back, his hair all spikey and plastered on his face.

Sis laughed softly. “He’s so cute,” She watched with a smile as Doug strolled out of the pool, his swim trunks inflated for some reason before a loud, soggy deflating sound emitted from them. Doug immediately seemed embarrassed by that but soon got distracted when he noticed that Sisi was putting on sunscreen.

“Hey, baby, need help with the sunscreen?” Doug offered as he quickly created a puddle at his feet with the amount of pool water he had brought out with him.

Sisi smiled softly at her boyfriend. “Awww, yes. Thank you, Gummybear,” Sisi scooted forward and Doug placed down a towel so he didn’t ruin his love’s sunchair. As he applied the sunscreen he felt his face grow warm.

“You look amazing today,”

“Thanks, so do you,” Sisi tilted her head back and stole a kiss. After a few minutes, Doug had finished applying the sunscreen and noticed that Javi was trying to convince Santiago to do cannonballs too.

“If you don’t feel like cannonballs, we could do a chicken fight,” Doug suggested and immediately felt the competitive energy rise.

“Let’s add some stakes to it though,” Sisi leaned forward. “Losers buy the winners a fancy meal and I get to pick out a book that Santi has to read,”

Santiago’s eyes narrowed at that; he knew that Sisi could be a little shit when she wanted to. She would purposefully pick an awful book.

“Fine, but if I win you have to wear an outfit I choose,”

“Deal!” Sisi shook hands with her friend.

“Prepare to lose,” Santiago rose up and strutted over to the edge of the pool.

“Oh, you decided to wear a speedo?”

Doug’s question made Santiago look over at his friend.

“It’s European and we are in Europe. Besides, I know that Javi-”

“Chicken fight time!” Javi wrapped Santiago in a hug and tackled him into the pool.

“Babe, please-” Santiago’s words were cut off as he plunged into the clear waters of the pool.

“Come on, Dougie, let’s get our game faces on,” Sisi got up and took her boyfriend’s hand, strolling forward. The two of them talked casually about their game plan as Javi apologized for his hug tackle by peppering Santi’s face with kisses.

After a few minutes, they were all set up. Sisi was on Doug’s shoulders while Santiago was on Javi’s.

“Don’t worry, baby, I won’t let you fall,” Doug smiled up at Sisi who immediately returned it.

“I know. I’ll make sure we win,”

“Ha! Javi and I will win. With my strategy and my boyfriend’s insanely toned arms, the victory is practically in the bag!” Santiago smiled smugly at his best friend.

Sisi was silent for a few seconds before she declared war with one word. “Charge!”

Immediately Sisi and Santi were out for blood all in the name of good, friendly competition while Javi and Doug worked to be strong bases for their significant others. Thus followed fierce battle after fierce battle. With each one, both couples kept even with their scores until it got to the final match. It seemed as though the move by Sisi had officially sunk Javi and Santi’s chances but after nearly toppling over backwards Santi righted himself thanks to help from his boyfriend.

“What the fuck?!? You’re a nerd though,” Sisi stared in disbelief.

“A nerd with abs!” Santiago yelled loudly then got the upper hand and won the last point.

Javi jogged around the fallen couple, trotting in the pool as Santiago smugly declared how amazing he and his boyfriend were.

After a couple of minutes, the two couples got out and strolled over to a shaded table to enjoy some lunch. While Javi and Doug were busy going over who their favorite superheroes were, Santiago was rubbing his victory in Sisi’s face. “Get ready for the most hideous outfit you’ve ever seen,” Santiago smirked as he spun his straw in his drink.

“Oh yeah? I can make anything look hot,” Sisi leaned back, her confidence unbreakable.

“Doubt it,”

Days later, Sisi was proven right. She always was.

#twdg #twdg doug #twdg javi #twdg sisi #twdg santiago #twdg douka #twdg javiago #fanfic #ericson's diner au

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hollywoodx4 · 7 years

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Sticking With the Schuylers (13)

Okay, first of all I can’t even believe this has 13 parts now. My weird dream baby is actually something now. It’s hard to believe that it’s come this far but I’m thankful for (and genuinely surprised at) the love this story has gotten, thanks for the likes and thanks for reading!

In this part, we learn more about John and Eliza’s relationship...

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A warm tea sliding across the table.

The silent accompaniment of John Mayer’s gentle voice over the speakers.

Elizabeth Schuyler accepts the offer gratefully and holds the cup between her two hands, feeling the soothing heat transfer from her still shaking hands through the entirety of her body. And as she sips it, sighing, she looks up through the steam to find John Laurens standing hesitant at the end of her table. He holds a frozen croissant to his head, where a sizable melon has begun to form. John smiles at her sheepishly and gestures to the chair across from her. She nods before holding her face in her hand.

As the shaking of hands stops and the constant tingling begins to fade away she suddenly feels very tired; as if the simple task of sitting up in her chair takes everything she has left within her. Her eyes drop to her tea and she watches the steam rise from it, billowing in the stagnant air before disappearing completely.

From the other side of the table John watches. He watches her figure sink, posture dropped and eyes cast down. He watches the shaking of her hands and the gloss over her eyes. His head still throbs with a dull pain but he puts the now nearly defrosted croissant on the table, tapping his fingers along the wooden edge. He opens his mouth a few times to begin conversation but hesitates; he’s not even sure where a conversation like this would begin.

He doesn’t know Elizabeth Schuyler that well. She’s been to game nights, and she’s always been very hospitable and kind. He knows that Alex writes both to and about her constantly, mostly to save himself from another awkward round of exchanges begging for another topic of conversation. He knows what he’s seen in tabloids and on social media, too, but although he loves his trashy magazines he also knows that they’re exactly what he describes them as; garbage at telling the truth. He can’t think of one bad thing about her.

Elizabeth Schuyler was also clearly trying to make an effort in getting to know him. She’d stopped out of her way multiple times at this Starbucks when he’d been working. She’d stroll in and order a hibiscus tea or a chai latte before leaning over the counter, effortlessly chatting with him as if she’d known him her entire life. And there she’d stand, even as he was making her drink, asking about his last biochemistry exam or that guy in his Current Issues class who’d made a twenty minute speech about legalizing marijuana. She’d recall countless stories he’d told her, stories he didn’t even remember at some points. And she’d be there, leaning over the counter and pushing back strands of glossy brown hair as she talked.

John didn’t know her well, but this was a far cry from the Elizabeth Schuyler he did know. It was a deflated version, something beyond the lights and the paparazzi photos. It was something beyond even the pure and simple happiness he’d seen when she’d been with Alex. So he brings in a deep breath, collecting his thoughts from where they’d been spinning through his head.

“Do you want me to call Alex?”

“No.” It’s an immediate and adamant response, although her voice is shaking and quiet. Her eyes shoot up to meet his and they’re wide and pleading. “Don’t, it’s fine. I’m fine, really.”

“No offense but you really don’t look fine. Also you just punched me in the face, so…”

“I’m really sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry but I think you’d benefit from being honest.” Now that the conversation has opened John feels more at ease, his voice gentle yet firm as he leans back in his chair. He doesn’t want to intimidate her, but to implore her to talk. Or listen, at least. “If you won’t let me call Alex will you at least tell me what all of that was about? It might make you feel a little better. I know I’m not your sisters, but you’re dating my best friend so I’d like to think that we’re friends too.”

She looks back down at her tea, her eyes seeming to be searching for something within its now cooling contents. And then they flicker over to the magazine; to where John has set it on his side of the table, her heart tightens in her chest. The walls of that Starbucks feel like they’re closing in as she’s imagining the conversation being spelled out. And then her mind moves to the moment she’d have to have his conversation with Alexander.

“I went through a really bad relationship that ended in a really terrible and wrongly publicized breakup. My life is under a microscope and it’s just kind of all happening at once. And I can’t tell Alexander about it because he has so much on his plate. And he’s so great. But we can’t do things like go on normal dates. Or kiss in public. Or even change our relationship status on Facebook.” Eliza’s almost crying now. She bites her lip to hold back the tears, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she chuckles to herself. It’s a sad sound, broken and quiet, but she sniffs it back with a sip of tea. And then Elizabeth Schuyler shakes her head, pushing herself up from the table.

“Anyway, I believe in absolute honesty in relationships. So I guess it was bound to come up at some point. I just thought I’d have more time.”

“Eliza,”

“Thank you, John. For being here. I just can’t do this right now.” I’ll see you at game night.” She hesitates, one hand holding her cream colored backpack while the other cradles her tea. And as she leaves John watches her retreating figure until he can no longer see her through the wide window of the campus Starbucks. His own heart sinks as he had watched hers do a moment ago.

It takes him a while to get back into his work mode; he throws away the now defrosted croissant and moves to clean the table. Slowly, as snippets of their conversation replay themselves over and over in his mind. And he knows that he can’t tell Alex what has just happened, although he knows little of the situation himself. But he wants to. Desperately. If only to cure Eliza’s drooping posture and sad eyes. Those eyes haunt him as he clears their table, washcloth in hand, before he knocks something to the ground with a light fluttering of paper on hardwood flooring. And when he reaches down to investigate it’s like the puzzle pieces are just beginning to come together; a realization. A clue.

John wouldn’t even be able to tell that it was Eliza in the photo if it weren’t captioned. The girl staring back at him was so far from the girl that he knew that he felt an involuntary breath of air caught in his throat. It wasn’t as if the photo was drastically different; no, to the untrained eye the girl in the bikini was the same girl in the photo he’d taken two days ago on his phone.

�� That Eliza, whose head was rested on his shoulders and cheek pressed up against his, was the Eliza he knew. Her eyes are shut and her cheeks lifted, lips upturned in a quirky smile as a contradiction to his goofy one.

“John, come here for a second.” He’s just gotten back to the apartment after his night shift, stuffing his bag on the bench next to the door and tossing his hat on the kitchen counter. Eliza’s perched on the couch, cross-legged and underneath a particularly fuzzy blanket he hasn’t seen before. It’s still strange to see her like this, live and in person instead of a face in a magazine or a short video on his phone. He nods and makes his way over, standing in front of the couch.

“Sit,” She implores. She scoots over on the couch and pats the space next to her, grinning. “We need a picture together for my contacts. I’m tired of seeing that stupid grey face every time you send me a meme. Also we need to talk about how many memes you send me.”

He laughs, shaking his head before plopping himself in the space next to her. She hands him her phone and scooches next to him, pressing their faces close together before pulling a face for the camera. He does too, a crooked kind of smile appearing on his freckled face as he widens his eyes, laughing at her expression. The photo takes and they look back at it, laughing, before she sets it to his contact.

“Want to keep me company for a while? Alex went to get takeout because I’m lazy and student teaching killed me this week, and he’s too good to make me walk a block with him to get it.” She rises from the couch, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets until she finds what she’s looking for. And when she returns her eyes are alight with mischief. He has to laugh as she holds the object up to him, grinning from ear to ear. “Want to play a game?”

When Alexander comes home all he can hear is muffled laughter from the other side of the door. And when he enters the apartment he doubles over himself, nearly dropping the bags of Thai food he’d been balancing in his other hand.

Eliza and John are sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing each other. There’s a bag of jumbo marshmallows between them, nearly empty. Both look like chipmunks, cheeks overextended, and their laughter is muffled by mouths stuffed full of marshmallows.

“Chubby bunny.” Eliza just barely gets the words out as John fishes through the bag for another marshmallow. It’s a Herculean effort, fitting another soft confection into his mouth, and he uses one hand to push back his cheeks while the other makes room for a marshmallow, pushing it into the back of his mouth before letting out the winning words.

Alex claps then, letting his presence be known. And the sound is so sudden that the companions on the couch spit their marshmallows onto Eliza’s blanket. And they stare at the pile of soggy sugary confections, John’s eyes growing particularly wide as he realizes what has happened. But then Eliza’s crying, head bent down to her knees as peals of laughter shoot from her diaphragm. The sound is so contagious that soon both John and Alex are crying too, struggling to catch their breath as they look on at the mess that’s been created.

It’s at that moment that John really feels he’s past the magazines and Instagram descriptions of the senator’s daughter. No, now Elizabeth Schuyler, with her shining, tear-filled eyes, is his friend.

As he looks over the magazine John realizes he doesn’t know this girl, the one with the dead eyes and forced expression. He’d known of the photo, of course, from the days before Eliza and Alex. From the days when he’d just been her follower on Instagram, reading about her in trashy tabloid magazines and thinking he’d known everything about her from the few short moments captured on camera.

But that was before Alex and Eliza. That was before she’d become his friend, bringing Sour Patch Kids to Starbucks on the days of his late shifts and leaning over the counter to crack an obscure inside joke that only he’d laugh at. It was before the days of her purposefully making extra dinner and bringing some over, knowing full well that the boys still weren’t so good at cooking for themselves. More importantly, though, the Elizabeth Schuyler he saw in that photo was before all of the good happened in her life. And he wished more than anything that he could help to bring her back.

#hamliza #hamliza au #hamilton au #the schuyler sisters #mine: swts #look at where we are #look at where we started

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