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thesquidkid · 3 years

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Lately I've been feeling so alone

Based of this post by @milady-bugg, thank you for letting me use it as inspiration for a fic 😁

This is sadder than intended, and full of Michael Guerin feels, hope you'll enjoy! This is also quite long (5.4k lmao), so you can read it on AO3 if you prefer.

Michael had isolated himself in his bunker, not letting anyone - even Sanders - in. At first, there were a few knocks, the door opening a few times and each time, Michael would slam it shut with his powers. He needed to process. It was one thing, to know that you were the son of a monster, another to face the man as he gave his own son a heart attack. Father of the year, right here!

So Michael had isolated himself between 4 walls, literally underground, where he could let all his anger free without hurting anyone. But the others couldn’t really understand that, and he couldn’t blame them. So everyone went on to live their lives, do what they were good at.

Isobel and Rosa were looking for Max, searching every cave, every abandoned house, turning every stone, using Rosa’s new found ability. Liz was making sure Maria stayed stable and healthy, her state hadn’t really decreased, but it hadn’t improved either. Whatever was going on, she seemed to continue the fight. Because Maria DeLuca was her own saviour, every damn time.

Michael didn’t have any news of Alex, just that he had found Kyle and that he was safe. He had hesitated calling Alex a few times, to compare notes on shitty father, but that wouldn’t have been fair to Alex, the person who tried every damn day to distance himself from his father, to fix what he broke, to be a better man.

So Michael was alone, in his bunker, with Sanders coming in every once in a while to complain that Michael wasn’t working, but both knew it was just an excuse to check up on him, make sure he was doing fine.

And really, he was. After the initial shock of finding out that his father was a copy of his brother (really, all those times Max had played his father, it was just in his DNA), where he completely and utterly lost it, he was now in a much calmer headspace. He had repositioned all the furniture that had been thrown against the walls, had done some extensive cleaning and given back a few tools and random parts he found to Sanders.

Although, he was still feeling empty. Had emptied his entire body, crying, shouting, wanting to break stuff with his powers, but knowing that if he did he would have to replace it somehow. And he was still broke. So he had to figure out another way of letting his emotions free, that didn’t involve breaking the little stuff he owned, and regretting it.

Instead, he focused on what he was good at. Had put all of the alien tech he had on the main workspace, fiddling with it at first, letting his hand move freely on it, feeling the way the tech reacted to him. From then, he realised that he still didn’t completely know what the tech could do, had assumed it was only part of the ship, but the recent events, with Kyle’s radio and Jones’ sword, he was getting curious as to what he could do, with his imagination and mechanical skills.

This is where it all started, with the alien glass and his tools, letting his hands move as they desired, his mind still busy thinking about - well, everything that happened in the last few days, from Jones being his father, to Max maybe still nearly dying, to Maria being in a coma, and to Alex being God knows where doing God knows what.

As he thought about his friends, his family, his people, his fingers were doing something similar. This is how he found himself, after three days in the bunker, barely sleeping, not at all in contact with the outside world - only going out to take a shower, get some food, and use the toilet in the airstream - with a bunch of glass objects, clearly designed for his friends, and not knowing what to do with all of it. Well, he knew, but that meant going out and seeing them, their faces, probably full of pity, no one knowing how to address the elephant in the room - Jones.

He was building up the courage to get out and gift his creations as peace offering, or whatever they wanted them to be, when he was disturbed by a knock on the latch, then it opened, followed by a very familiar voice that he didn’t expect to hear any time soon.

“Look, Guerin, I get that you want to be alone right now, and uh, yeah -” Alex Manes said, passing a hand across the face, fighting the want to jump down that ladder, understanding more than anyone what being the son of a monster felt like, and even then, neither of their experiences were comparable. “I’m just here to tell you that, ah, Maria woke up, and uh, she’ll be staying in the hospital for a little longer, so uh, yeah that’s what I came here to say.” he finished, and stood up from where he was crouching above the opened latch, looking down in the bunker but not seeing more than the ladder and light. He could also slightly distinguish Michael’s shadow, glowing under all the lights he guessed were alien.

Michael thought Alex had left, and nearly closed the latch using his powers, when he heard the last few words, barely a whisper, but clear as day to him. And he knew that Alex knew that he heard them. “I’m here. If you ever want to talk, or whatever. I’m here for you, Michael.” And with that, Alex left, understanding the peace of being alone with your thoughts, and knowing that Michael would come out whenever he was ready to.

And he was ready to come out. Soon after he heard Alex’s car leave the junkyard, he rushed to his airstream to take a shower and change clothes, taking with him the glass object he had made for Maria. When Sanders saw him leave the airstream, showered, dressed in clothes that hadn’t been worn the past three days, smiling, he couldn’t stop the teasing comment, “If I knew getting your boy here would get you out, I’d have done it long ago.” Despite the comment, he was glad that Michael was feeling better, and even more glad to hear the “Not my boy. Maria’s awake,” that came from Michael as he drove away, leaving Sanders in the junkyard, a smile on his face. The kid was starting to realise that family wasn’t the blood coursing through your veins, but the people you choose to surround yourself with. He hoped Ms. Nora would be proud of her boy, wherever she was.

Michael drove to the hospital at a respectable speed, not wanting to get arrested the day Maria woke up - she would never stop making fun of him about it. He nearly ran towards her room, stopping only at the open door, taking in the people in the room. Liz was at the foot of Maria’s bed, holding a board with papers clipped to it - most likely Maria’s health results - talking with her hands, a large smile on her face. Rosa was sitting on the bed, next to Liz, exchanging side smiles with Maria, her entire body more relaxed than she had been since Maria’s coma. Isobel was standing to the side of the room, leaning against the wall, facing the door. She was the first to see Michael, making him smile back, and promising her to talk and hang out, by their psychic bond. Finally, he turned his eyes to the head of Maria’s bed, where the two Manes men who had gone against their father were sitting, Greg leaning against the back of the chair, a hand holding Maria’s and the other going up and down on her arm in a reassuring sign, Alex on the other side sitting with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on one hand, apparently the only one truly listening to what Liz had to say.

He cleared his throat, not knowing how else to announce his presence. “Mikey!” came the synchronised shout from the Orthecho sisters, “what took you so long, dude? We texted you ages ago!” Rosa teasingly asked, Michael not bothering with an answer and simply sticking his tongue out to her, earning him a roll of the eyes from Liz and Isobel, a full on laugh from Rosa and a slight chuckle from Alex.

“How you feeling, DeLuca?” he started to ask, his voice clear with worry, but remembering many of their conversations, he continued with something he knew she would prefer to him worrying too much, “I might check out some other bar if you stay out of the game for too long.”

And he seemed to have been right, as Maria giggled and stood up straighter, “Oh I’m not too worried you’ll be right back at the Pony in no time Guerin,” she said smiling at him, which Michael copied. “And,” she added, pointing her finger in his direction, “you still owe me 15,09 bucks, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Michael shook his head, of course she wouldn’t forget the drinks he had during the last year that he hasn’t yet repaid in services. Since it was the pandemic, they both didn’t have much money so they agreed that whatever drinks he ordered would be paid back in free car or bar maintenance, and vice versa. As if they weren’t already cutting deals for each other.

Feeling all eyes on him, especially since he had gone AWOL for the last three days, Michael cleared his throat once more and took a few hesitant steps towards Maria, ignoring everyone in the room but her. “I, uh, made you something?” he said, cursing himself mentally for making it sound like a question, “here,” he put his hand in his jacket pocket and took out four little alien glass hairpins, ‘it’s alien glass, I thought you might like them.”

He looked at her to see some tears in her eyes as she took the hairpins and observed them in her hands. “They’re, Michael, those are amazing ,” she said with so much sincerity that Michael was taken aback by it, “Thank you.” she added with a smile.

In the end Michael sat on the floor against the wall, listening closely to Maria talking about what had happened with Jones. He felt at ease, surrounded by his friends, still feeling the weight of Kyle and Max missing, but everyone enjoying this small light in what had felt like a week of pure darkness.

Being with Maria, giving them his creation, had given him the courage to talk to the others, and hand them their gifts. He went to see Liz, one day, as she was still in Kyle’s office, observing scans of Maria’s brain. He pointedly ignored those pictures, deciding that he wasn’t going to think of what his father could have done to Maria and her brain, knowing the guilt he would feel if he did. Instead he stood in front of Liz and handed her two teardrop earrings made out of alien glass.

She stopped in the middle of her sentence, and stared up at Michael who smiled awkwardly, her mouth agape as she took in the beauty of the jewelry. “Mikey, wow, I - I don’t know what to say.” she said, looking back and forth between the earrings and Michael.

“It’s nothing, Ortecho, really, I had glass laying around and -” he started to say but was interrupted by Liz. “Thank you.” she nearly shouted, standing up and bending him in a tight embrace, which he returned gladly. He then held up Liz’s phone as a mirror as she put them on and admired herself, making both of them laugh, before reality caught up, and they both needed to focus on Max, Kyle, and Maria. Liz kept the earrings the entire day, and wears them on any occasion she can, the alien colorful glass going with a multitude of clothing combinaisons.

The next person Michael gave a present to was Rosa. She was at the junkyard to train her powers when he surprised her with alien windchimes. He quickly used his powers to hang them up while she had her eyes closed and let the wind do the rest of the work. She opened her eyes in admiration of whatever sound she had heard and turned towards the source of it. “Woa,” she said under her breath as she walked slowly towards them, until finally touching them with her hands, letting the windchimes sing under her fingers, the alien glass slightly reacting.

“You made those?” she asked, turning around to Michael. He nodded, smiling, feeling quite proud of his work. “The sound they make,” continued Rosa, turning once again to look at the windchimes, Michael walking closer to her, “it’s - I don’t think I can compare it to anything.” He nodded once more, encouraging Rosa to continue, “It’s like a melody. I can hear the wind, but it’s different, it’s beautiful.”

She leaned against Michael who was now standing slightly behind her, Michael instinctively putting her arm around her shoulders, the two of them standing in the middle of the junkyard, admiring the alien glass windchimes Michael had made for Rosa. She would come buy the junkyard many times, listening at the way the wind circled through the windchimes, admiring their beauty.

After that it all happened really quickly; Rosa and Isobel found Max, Michael and Liz had been called to the rescue (Jones had apparently regained his body and vanished), followed by Kyle waking up, Greg and Maria rushing to some ranch in the middle of nowhere to get Kyle and Alex. Eventually, all this craziness died down for a bit, Max was hiding in Alex’s cabin in the woods, since Jones had used his body to commit crimes, he couldn’t really go grocery shopping without getting arrested, and Kyle had regained his job at the hospital. Michael seriously wondered how he hadn’t been fired yet, but he wasn’t complaining, at least someone in their group seemed to know what he was doing with his life.

He made his way back to the hospital, except this time to see the one person he swore he would never visit as a kid. A doctor. But not just any doctor, a doctor who was quickly becoming a good friend of his, which he obviously wasn’t going to admit. He walked in the corridors, knowing the place quite well by now, and knocked on Kyle’s office door. A tired “Come in” answered and he opened the door.

As soon as Kyle saw who was on the other side of the door, he groaned and nearly snapped, thinking that maybe now would be the time to get a new group of friends that didn’t have alien emergencies every four hours. Michael must’ve sensed what Kyle was about to say (something along the lines “I don’t care that the world is burning because of some alien invasion, I need sleep! And no, a coma doesn’t count.”) because he raised his hands in surrender, a smug smile on his face.

“Relax, no alien life or death situations, or at least not that I know of.” This had the expected effect, Kyle relaxed in his chair, crossed his arms on his chest and raised an eyebrow at Michael, silently asking him why he was here then. Michael closed the door behind him and sat opposite Kyle, on one of the patients chairs. Still smiling, he took out of his pocket two glass paperweights that he delicately put on the desk for Kyle to grab, just as delicately.

Kyle was silent as he turned the paperweights between his hands, admiring all the different angles, reflecting his desk light on the walls and papers he had on his desk. While Kyle was busy, Michael slowly put his hand in his other jacket pocket and took out a glass snow globe with a little cardboard UFO, two little plastic aliens, and pink fake snow. He put it on the desk and waited for Kyle to notice, after having put the paper weights on top of two small piles he had.

When he saw the snow globe, his face lit up with astonishment, and he looked up to Micheal, once again speechless. “I know what it’s like to see a doctor as a kid and being scared,” Michael said, not looking at Kyle but at the little snowball, “and I know it’s not the same, but uh-”

“I’m sure the kids will love it, Michael.” Kyle said, honestly. He took the globe and shook it, chuckling at the way the UFO dangled, the way the little Aliens wiggled and the way the pink snow fell on everything. “Thank you.”

Michael shrugged, “Consider it payback,” he said, with a sincere smile this time, “for all the times you saved our asses.” And with that, he stood up, waved awkwardly at Kyle (who waved back just as awkwardly) and left.

Kyle took care of the paperweights, who in reality weren’t so heavy, but never broke as they fell. All the kids that came by his office would stare at the little snow globe, admiring it, feeling calmer and safer during their appointment.

Isobel called Michael over the next day. She said she wanted to go shopping for Max, since he was stuck away and was getting bored (how he had already read all the books Alex gave him, was a mystery to Michael, but he supposed when there really wasn’t anything else to do…)

Michael ran on her doorbell and let himself in, using his powers to unlock the door. He made his way to the living room and sat on the couch, looking at the decorations of Isobel’s walls. This house felt more homey than the one she had shared with Noah, there were paintings on the walls he knew Rosa had made, a few old and useless metallic pieces he had turned into sculptures and decorations laying around in various places. But what was really different was the huge bookshelf, books varying from science fiction (for Michael), to inspiring novels (for Isobel) to fantasy and romantic (for Max), indicating that this wasn’t just her home for her, but that her brothers were welcomed here too.

Michael put on the table the necklace he had made, the pendant made out of alien glass and the chain from some silver he had laying around the junkyard, and waited for Isobel to come out. When she did, she smiled at Michael and sat next on his left, facing him. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking, and our brother isn’t really the best cook so -”, she started to say, but cut herself as she saw what was on the table.

She grabbed the necklace between her fingers, and looked to Michael, who was leaning against the couch, an arm slung over it, a bright smile on his face. He winked at her, when he saw that Isobel was looking at him, and she leaned against him, her heard on his shoulder, Michael folding his arm around her.

“It’s beautiful, Michael,” Isobel said, emotions strong in her voice, “thank you.” Mihael rubbed his hand on her shoulder, not really knowing what to say, but wanting her to know that he would always be there.

Isobel wiggled the necklace in front of his face, Michael taking it with a chuckle as he attached it around her neck. The two of them stayed like that, leaning their heads against each other, in silence, in peace. Eventually, Isobel stood up, hurrying Michael out the door and into his truck to go shopping for Michael. And if they were a bit later than what they had told Max, arriving with humid eyes, no one made a comment about it, Max glad to have some company and more books to read.

Michael went back to see Max at least once a day, staying for a few hours or a couple of minutes, always checking in. The two had a lot to talk about, especially the elephant in the room - Max being a clone of Michael’s father.

Michael found himself enjoying those little brotherly moments, and more so the one after they had done the whole Jones subject. Michael would make a few comments about Liz staying in Roswell, to which Max would respond with questions about Alex.

“You know,” said Max on the third day Michael came when they were sitting around a fire pit, enjoying a few beers, after Michael had strongly avoided any topic about Alex, while also admitting to having some feelings (which Max knew of already, subtility wasn’t Michael’s - and Alex’s - strong suit), “this is the first time you and I have talked about dumb highschool crushed together.”

Michael chuckled at that, a hint of sadness that Max quickly brushed, “Hey no, the past is the past man, I’m just saying that I’m glad we’re finally talking, you know? Feels like we’re finally not hiding stuff.” And Michael raised his beer bottle at that. It was indeed the first time that they were both completely open, no more secret. They both were at fault on that, but as Max had said, the past was the past, no point reminiscing, when you could focus on making the future better.

With those thoughts in mind, he took out of his pocket an alien glass bolo tie with little turquoise end caps on the ties, and handed it to Max, who took it. They were both hypnotised by the way the flames reflected on the glass, the way the colors seemed to dance in the night.

Max didn’t say anything, didn’t have too. He put his beer on the floor next to him, stood up and motioned to Michael to do the same. Once they were both standing, facing each other, they hugged deeply, strongly. In the end, all the other bolo ties Max owned got mostly replaced by this one, being worn at every occasion he could, always with his brother in mind.

Michael had two more presents to offer, and was sitting in his bunker, not knowing how to approach either of the people they were made for. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to figure one out, as the person in question opened the latch and climbed down the stairs with a grunt. “Kid,” came Sander’s voice as soon as his feet reached the ground, “think you can use that brain of yours to build a lift here? Getting too old for this.”

“Well no one is forcing you to come, old man,” Michael replied, although there was no true bite to it. In fact, he quite enjoyed the old man’s occasional visits, even if all he did was complain. Michael turned around to face him, “Everything all good up there?” he asked, wondering why Sanders had come down. Sanders just nodded at him and took the last steps for him to arrive at Michael’s level, leaning his hands on the workspace. “What you working on, kid?”

“Uhm, actually -” started Michael, now that Sanders was here, might as well give him the present, right? “I got something for you.”

Using his powers, he approached a little metallic sunflower he had made from scrap pieces found here and there in the junkyard, and had made the center out of alien glass. The whole thing was attached to a chain to be held up against the door to Sanders house.

Sanders grabbed the sunflower and looked at it intensely with his good eye, remembering the colors Ms Nora’s creations were, seeing them once again on that little sunflower. Neither said anything, nor made a step forward to hug, neither being used to physical comfort, but they both knew how much that gesture meant.

To Michael, it meant acceptance, family, a sunflower for all the sunflowers they grew at the junkyard over the pandemic. To Sanders, it meant pride, it meant having kept his promise to Ms Nora to take care of his son, it meant family.

The sunflower was attached by Sanders' door, the alien glass glowing under the desert sun, always turning to face it, like all the many sunflowers they had in their field.

Which led Michael to one last gift. And if he was being honest with himself, the one he dreaded the most. Also the one that took him the most time and the most research. A gift for Alex. Taking his courage in both hands, he sent a quick text to Alex before he could have any chance to doubt himself. Free right now? I think I might take you up on your offer.

He didn’t have long to wait, as his phone buzzed almost immediately, On my way. Be there in 30 . He rushed back to his airstream, ignoring once more Sanders’ comment about getting ready for his boy , to get changed and put beers in the fridge. He opened the door of the airstream just as he heard Alex’s car arrive, and sat on one of the chairs, two bears in hand, while he made his way over. Alex sat on a chair next to him, accepting the beer, in silence.

“I heard you were busy while in your underground lair, judging by the gifts I’ve been seeing pop up.” Alex said with a smile, taking a sip of his beer, turning his head to look at Michael.

Michael frowned his eyebrows, “I thought you were busy out of town?” he asked, barely stopping the bite from escaping his lips. Alex looked sheepishly away from Michael at that, “I’ve been trying to not distance myself too much,” she shrugged, his tone lowering, until being a simple whisper at the end, “to not drive myself crazy.” He shivered at whatever thought was going through his mind, then straightened his body and looked up to Michael, “Anyway, you said you’d take me up on my offer, I’m assuming you want to talk?” he asked, forcing a smile that Michael didn’t buy.

“The hell is going on with you, Alex?” Michael asked, with a bit too much force that he immediately took back at Alex’s defeated look, “First you tell me you’d burn down the world for me, then that you don’t want me anywhere you or whatever, and then you end up finding Kyle in some creepy farm, which might I add is the exact same farm you got stabbed in .” He took a breath, and continued, “So yeah, Alex, I want to talk, I want you to tell me what’s going on with you.” He stopped at looked at Alex, who didn’t really seem like he wanted to say anything, so he lowered his voice, taking back all the bite and anger he could, channeling how much he cared and worried about Alex, “You said you were there for me, it’s a two way street you know. I’m here for you too.”

That seemed to do the trick, as Alex’s teary eyes met Michael’s, who wanted nothing more that to wipe his thumb across his cheeks, to take away the fear and the pain he could see in those eyes. But he didn’t, they weren't there yet.

Alex took a deep, shaky breath and told Michael everything, from quitting the Air Force (getting a discharge with full honors, Michael could tell the pride in his voice as the last ten years of Alex’s hadn’t been totally useless), to joining Deep Sky, to the Lockhart machine, to his boss not being who he said he was, to discovering that the Lockhart machine had driven people crazy, to the reason he had been recruited by deep sky. After his explanations, he fell quiet, looking at Michael, not truly knowing what to expect.

What he didn’t expect however, was for Michael to get up hastily, move the airstream and rush to his lair, leaving Alex sitting on his chair, a half empty bottle of beer in one hand, tears in his eyes. But Michael came back, just as fast as he had left, holding some piece of alien tech mixed with metal in his hands. It took a moment for Alex to register what that object was, and once he did, he widened his already teary eyes in surprise, his mouth was slightly agape, his eyebrows were frowned, as he searched for the words to express his confusion, not wanting to get his hopes high. On the other hand, there wasn’t a multitude of people Michael could’ve made an alien prosthetic leg for.

Michael approached slowly with the leg in his hands, handing it to Alex once he was close enough. “I uh- I made you this.” he said, clearing his throat, while Alex was examining the leg, “It’ uh, lighter than the one you have now, but it’s also more resistant and, well, you could really bludgeon someone with it, if uh - if you wanted to.”

Alex kept looking at the leg, not saying anything, which Michael interpreted as him not being interested. “You don’t have to take it, if you don’t like it. I also made you this,” he rushed out, taking a braided leather cuff with a piece of alien glass as a stamp and handing it sheepishly to Alex, who was looking at him, with the same teary look he had for the past few minutes. Michael took a deep breath and sat back down, “Look,” he breathed out, “what I’m trying to say, Alex, is I’ve got your back, okay? I’ll build you whatever you need, I’ll go wherever you want me to, I’ll - I care about you.”

As Alex opened his mouth to say something, Michael raised his hand to interrupt, and continued, “And I’m the son of a literal dictator whose powers I’ve inherited. I can defend myself. And I know that you wanna protect me - I do too - but maybe we could, I don’t know, protect each other by being there?”

Alex, whose tears were now running free on his face, bent down to take his right shoe off, under Michael’s curious gaze, who could also feel tears running down his cheeks. Alex raised his trousers and took off his prosthetic, before grabbing the alien one and putting it on. He knew the size would fit, knew that Michael had worked hard on it, had probably had the idea of making him a new leg from the moment they met again, in front of that same airstream, under completely different circumstances.

They had gone a long way from that day, and they still had some more to do, but Michael was right. Maybe this time, they could be there, together, to take that new road, to protect and take care of each other, together. Before standing up, Alex attached the bracelet Michael had made around his left wrist, admiring the colors of the alien glass under the desert sun.

Alex stayed at the junkyard for some more time, until his alarm rang, informing him that he should head back to the Lockhart machine. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Michael, asking him if he wanted to come with, and together they drove to the farm, down a road they had both taken together once, but this time Alex wasn’t bleeding out.

After that day, Alex still went to the VA in Albuquerque for meds prescriptions and physical therapy once in a while, but all the repairs that needed to be done for his prosthetic, all the improvements, were done by Michael, in his lair, under Alex’s curious gaze, who wanted to know everything about Michael’s ideas.

After all his gifts, Michael found that he still had some alien glass laying around in his bunker. So he decided to turn it all into little rings, wanting to distinguish as much as he could from the weaponizing of the alien glass, like Jones had. Eventually, all of little friend group, all of his people, owned a ring.

And when the day came, when the fight with Jones reached its last stretch, Michael was ready. He didn’t have an alien sword like Jones had, but he had something much more. A group of people, by his side, all sharing his strength through the little alien gifts. His people, his family.

Lately I've been feeling so alone Can someone give the antidote to me so I can Finally understand where I belong

#i am soft for michael guerin #he has people ��#michael guerin #alex manes #maria deluca #liz ortecho #max evans #isobel evans #rosa ortecho #walt sanders #rnm fic #roswell new mexico #rnm #lyrics from Head Up by the score #thesquidkid writes

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desdinovas · 6 years

Text

untitled - part ten

not my gif

pairing: ceo!tom x female reader

warnings: just fluff

word count: 1.8K

notes: if any of you can’t add yourselves to the taglist pls let me know (if you also know how to fix it hmu lmao)

series masterlist

add yourself to my taglist!

The moment you got home you put on a jumper and a pair of shorts and threw your hair into a pony tail so you could finish writing. You ate peanut butter crackers and wrote non stop from 6 pm until 9 pm.

"It wouldn't be fair for me to say I wasn't partial to Tom and the way he ran things. From the moment I laid eyes on him there was something different about him I couldn't figure out. He was different than any other person I'd ever met. At first I saw a stone cold, harsh boss with no inkling of a good time in his body. Now I see a man who loves passionately about making business, about music, about cooking, about super heroes, and most importantly, his family."

You stopped typing. It felt finished.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You scrolled to the top and began to read all the way through. It took you about ten minutes to read and to edit before you printed it off and stapled it together. You wanted to talk to Tom.

You got in your car and put your paper in the passenger’s seat. You had been paying attention when Max drove you home and you knew exactly how to get to the neighborhood.

"Name please?" The security guard asked you at the gate.

"Oh, I'm (y/n) (y/l/n) here to see Tom Holland. But could you not tell him? I'm trying to surprise him. His driver usually drives me and-" you paused, realizing that she didn't care. You closed your eyes. "Will you call Harry instead of Tom?"

"Sure." She said with sass. She went into the office and made a phone call before giving you a pass and letting you inside the gated community. You drove to the back and up the hill to get to Tom's property.

You parked in the driveway and walked up to the front door. Before you even made it up to the door, you could hear the sound of a grand piano being played beautifully. You wanted to stand and listen to it all night knowing it was Tom playing. Finally, you gathered the courage to ring the doorbell and the music stopped. "Harry, are you expecting someone?" You heard Tom call out.

"Nah, man." Was his loud response. You could hear foot steps coming down the stair case next to the outside wall and the door unlocked.

He opened the door and you stood there quietly and held your paper out to him. "What is this?" He asked as he took it from your hand.

"It's my paper." You swallowed. "It's called Untitled: The story of the rise of Tom Holland." You smiled to yourself and he looked back up at you. He opened the door widely and set the paper down on the table next to the entryway before taking your hand and pulling you inside.

How you had longed for the feeling of his hand in yours for weeks now and you could finally feel it. "Is it finished?" He asked. "Like, entirely, completely, ready-to-be-turned-in, finished?"

"A hundred percent done." You assured him.

He looked you over and in an instant his hands went to your hips and he brought his body down to kiss you with the most passion you'd ever felt. Your hands went up around to his shoulders and then your arms around his neck to give yourself something to grasp. His strong arms had you off the ground and almost involuntarily you had wrapped your legs around his torso as your lips connected and moved together. You felt movement and he pressed you against the wall.

"I hate to break up such a beautiful moment," Harry interrupted and caused you both to jump at the sound of his voice. "But you left the front door open and it's cold for once." He smirked and closed the door.

"Was it necessary to interrupt that?" Tom put you down and turned to his brother.

"Oh, yes. It was well worth it." He said with a laugh.

"Fuck off,” Tom rolled his eyes and turned to you. "May I read now?"

You intertwined your hands as you had wanted to do for a while and nodded at him. "Absolutely."

One of the most nerve racking things you've ever experienced had to have been right in this moment. Tom sat in an armchair with his legs crossed. In one hand he held your paper, and his other hand rested on his chin, brushing his finger over his lips slowly. With a straight expression, you watched his hazel eyes skim slowly over the lines. Licking his thumb, he grasped the edge of the paper to turn the page.

You sat in the chair across from him and crossed your legs, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees as you watched him. He'd take a sharp breath in, or exhale heavily out of his nose. Once or twice, you saw him smile. And finally, he finished the last paragraph and sighed.

"Well?" You asked quietly with a hint of anxiety. He remained silent and skimmed the last few sentences slowly and you groaned. "Tom!" You laughed nervously. "Tell me what you're thinking. The silence is killing me."

With a small crooked smile, Tom glanced up from the paper and over to you. "I don't disapprove," he replied. You reached over to grab a pillow off of the nearby chair and tossed it at him. "Okay, okay," he chuckled. "It was good, (y/n)."

"Good?" You sighed playfully. "That's all I get?"

He got up from his chair and slowly walked over to you. "You're a talented writer." He admitted. When he handed the paper back to you, he took hold of your hand and sat down on the coffee table in front of you. "It really is your art."

You watched your hands with a steady gaze, how they fit together perfectly. His hand was warm and comforting, which was a perfect contrast to your cold skin. "Can I say something?" You nearly whispered.

"Go ahead," he said lowly.

"All I've been thinking about was how good that kiss felt." Your eyes flickered up at him and you saw that he was mostly looking at your lips. "What?"

"Good?" He joked. He was getting much more playful. "That's all I get?"

You bit your lip gently. "I don't know. I think one kiss isn't enough to truly judge your skills." You teased.

"Mmm," he hummed and leaned in, breathing you in. His hand that was running over his own lips not long ago found its way to your chin and his long index finger brushed over your lower lip. God, he knew how to be seductive. "Maybe I'll let you have just one more taste."

Goosebumps raised on your skin as your lips met. It was slower this time and you leaned into him, savoring the moment. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth and when he pulled away, you kept your faces close. Your thumb ran over his cheek. "What do you say now?" He asked in the same low voice, his accent making you go over the moon.

"Umm," you batted your eyelashes a few times to regain your composure. "Now we’re talking." You breathed.

He knew what powers he had, you were sure of that. He just kept them locked away. Without the professional barrier, his reasons for keeping them hidden were falling away.

He let go of a breath he had been holding and looked down at his watch. "It's getting late," he said. "I don't want you driving when it's this dark out."

"I'll be okay." You told him, but it was no use.

"You're staying." He nodded. You couldn't find the energy to argue.

You followed him up the stairs and to the same elegant room. With a quick flick of the wrist, he peeled the corner of the pristine white comforter, then he pulled his tee shirt over his shoulders. You furrowed your brows. “So, where am I sleeping then?"

“Right here," he pointed to his bed.

“Umm,” you shook your head. You hadn't felt this scatterbrained around a guy in a long time. Your eyes scanned his muscular body and sighed, trying to find the words to say. “But you have so many empty rooms.”

His shoulders tensed for the first time since your first kiss. Without turning to face you, he said quietly, "if that would make you more comfortable,” you took a moment to consider it and before you made up your mind, he spoke again. “(y/n)?" He turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. “Please sleep with me tonight. I've waited so long to be close to you. Don't make me wait anymore.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Okay,” yoy gave in yet another time that night. “But I don't like wearing pants in bed, fair warning." He shrugged with a small grin.

Tom pulled his own jeans off and climbed under the covers and you sat down on the other side. This bed was even more comfortable than the one at the beach house, if that was at all possible. It was like a cloud. “Do you want to cuddle?" You asked, trying as hard as you could no to stare at his chest.

“How do you like it?" He asked as he laid back.

The bed shifted underneath your body as you scooted closer to him and placed your hand on his bare chest. He really was so muscular, it was impressive. Slowly, you pressed your cheek onto his skin and took a deep breath. The close contact was electrifying. You felt his hand comb through your hair and finally settled firmly on your shoulder. His thumb rubbed slow circles against the cotton of your shirt.

“I like this.” You sighed and let yourself be completely comfortable with him.

Once he turned the lamp off, it was pitch black in that room until your eyes adjusted. You listened to his heartbeat and ran your finger over his chest. “Tom, can I ask you a question? And you’ll give me the real answer this time?”

“Anything,” he breathed. He really was giving himself over to you completely.

“How come you only call me (y/n)?”

It was quiet as he thought. “It rolls off of my tongue effortlessly. Like the perfect lyric to a perfect song. It's like music to my ears.” He replied slowly.

You felt yourself smiling like a complete idiot, Suddenly it didn't frustrate you anymore. You only ever wanted to hear him say your name like that for as long as you lived. “Well, keep doing it." You yawned and nuzzled closer to him until you drifted off.

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