#if I could just get drunk and not be neurotic I think I could pull off cool masc lesbian I really do... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fratboykate · 1 year

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Celebrity!Kate and Bodyguard!Yelena after the ten years when they're happy. Please, Papi. We've had enough angst the last few days.

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Kate giving birth in kybgau and Yelena being her usual neurotic self?

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Okay but papi 🥺🥺🥺 remember the very first post introducing us to this wonderful thing called the kybgau? You said there was a lot of material like and I quote: “RED CARPETS WITH YELENA?! A comedy. YELENA IN A ROOM FULL OF DUMB ACTORS DRUNK AT AN AFTERPARTY?!” and “But also the albums Kate writes about her and the corny acceptance speeches thanking her???” Can we—can we have that now? Please? Papi? 🥺

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kybgau - pain idea: Kate really struggles with the concept that Yelena would rather be anywhere but in the spotlight. Countless red carpets; parties; charity events; and Kate wants a little Russian on her arm for all of them and she has a hard time taking no for an answer or understanding that Yelena is uncomfortable with being in front of cameras all the time.

///

Okay, this is like a mega prompt combo. Here's 7.3k of fluff...

---

“Just tell me what you want.” Yelena hastily stuffs her keys, wallet, and phone into the pockets of her form-fitting joggers. She's ready to head out the door.

“I could use the ride. And seeing people.”

Yelena scans the dresser, ensuring she hasn't forgotten anything, before turning and making her way to where Kate stands. Kate - dressed in casual maternity sweatpants and a hoodie, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her face free of makeup - rests her hands on either side of her swollen, thirty-nine-week pregnant belly as she gazes at Yelena. With the baby due any moment, Kate looks like she's about to burst.

“We’re going to the show tonight. You’ll get a ride there and back. And plenty of people. You should rest now.”

Kate’s smile grows with every word.

“So I’m only allowed out of the house once a day? Like a puppy you take on a walk?”

“Exactly. One big, reckless, loud puppy. Well…two puppies.” Yelena glances down at Kate’s stomach and Kate beams in response.

“I want to come.” Kate insists, almost whiney.

“It’s so much simpler if I go. I can do it alone. If you come, I have to get a pair of guys for a follow car and…”

“We’re going to get coffee. We don’t need two guys in a follow car.” Kate interrupts.

“They’re there in case anything happens.” Yelena retorts, serious.

“We’re going a mile down the road...to a coffee shop. What would happen?”

“It’s my job to make sure nothing does.”

“Are you going to be this neurotic until the baby falls out of me?”

“If the baby is falling out of you, I can guarantee I’ll be even more 'neurotic' because that doesn’t sound like it should happen.”

Kate chuckles and steps closer to the blonde, then gently drapes her arms over her shoulders and smiles.

“I need to get out of the house. I’m going stir crazy.”

“We’re going out tonight.”

“In like…eight hours. I’m stir crazy now.”

Yelena stares at Kate.

"Why do you make my life so difficult?"

Kate's teasing grin spreads wider as she leans into Yelena.

"Do I?"

"No doubt."

Yelena's eyes initially roll but can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of her lips. After a beat of staring at each other, Kate turns on her heels and heads for the door.

"Come on. Let's go. Baby needs her coffee."

"Decaf."

"I'm allowed two cups per day. I've had zero cups."

"Caffeine can lead to low birth weight..."

Kate starts interrupting and rebuffing all of Yelena's points.

"They think she's almost nine pounds. For my vag's sake, she could do with losing a bit of weight."

"...Not funny. It can affect her brain..."

"That's what she's got your genes for. Perfect, smart, cranky brain."

"It could reduce her blood supply, inhibit growth, and make her lethargic."

"She's been kicking my kidneys like she's got a vendetta against them for about three hours, so I wouldn't mind her being a little lethargic."

"Kate."

"That’s my name, yes." Kate responds playfully. Yelena grunts in frustration.

As they approach the stairs, Yelena quickens her pace and takes the lead, extending her hand for Kate to hold.

"Railing. Hand on railing."

Kate can't help but roll her eyes at the familiar routine, but she complies, takes Yelena's hand, and holds onto the railing with the other, following closely behind her as they descend the steps. Yelena moves with confidence, always one step ahead of Kate, making sure they both stay safe.

"I've gone up and down these stairs thousands of times."

"And it only takes one time for something bad to happen."

"You're being crazy." Kate can’t resist poking fun at Yelena’s anxiety.

"I'm being cautious and having foresight." Yelena counters.

"That's a lot of words to say 'crazy'...Can I drive?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"I'm trained in evasive techniques. You're not."

"We're going A MILE DOWN THE ROAD. To a coffee shop that only serves vegan pastries and milk alternatives? What are we trying to evade? Gluten and dairy?"

"I'm driving."

"Can't blame me for trying.”

"You’re impossible, Kate Bishop.”

They hit the bottom of the stairs, Yelena still in front and Kate behind her. Kate takes advantage of their closeness, holding Yelena from behind and pressing a series of kisses to her neck as they clumsily walk forward as one conjoined blob. Yelena melts into the embrace, momentarily forgetting her neuroses and everpresent concerns for Kate and their daughter’s safety.

"My crazy, crazy Russian." Kate presses another kiss to Yelena's neck and murmurs into her ear. "Я тебя обожаю" ["I adore you."]

Yelena and Kate step outside, with Kate still holding onto Yelena as the blonde takes measured steps, scanning the surroundings for any hazards. Two of Yelena's guards stationed in the yard immediately approach them.

"Morning." One of the employees pleasantly greets them.

"Morning, Lang. We're going to Grinders. You and Kaplan follow."

Yelena opens the door for Kate, making sure she's comfortable in the passenger seat.

"No 'follow'. No need for that. Do you guys want anything? We can bring you something back." Kate leans out the door and offers with a friendly tone.

Lang eyes Yelena, who remains perfectly stoic, before replying.

“No, ma'am. We’re good. Thanks. We'll get the car."

"Don't. Don't get the car. We'll be back in fifteen."

Lang glances at Yelena, who rolls her eyes and shakes her head, silently indicating that they should back down. She's got this. Yelena hops into the driver's seat and starts the SUV.

"Seatbelt." Yelena reminds Kate as she puts the car in reverse.

She won't move the car until Kate buckles up. Kate shakes her head and smirks while buckling up, making the whole process theatrical and exaggerated. Yelena huffs, exasperated by Kate's antics.

The guy manning the gate opens it, and Yelena skillfully drives the car onto the street. As they hit the road, a car parked a few houses down starts tailing them. Two men with professional cameras sit in the car, eagerly waiting to capture the first photos of global sensation Kate Bishop's baby.

---

The instant they step out of the car the paparazzo in the passenger seat promptly jumps out of the sedan and begins recording, bombarding Kate with questions.

"Good morning, ladies. Great day to get coffee. When are your fans getting that new album, Kate?"

The camera lens is less than two feet from Kate's face, so Yelena rushes around the car and rams herself between the videographer and the younger woman. Yelena reaches out for Kate's hand and clasps it tightly as she drives them forward to the entrance of the coffee shop. She extends the other hand, using it to block the man's camera lens and force him to back off.

"Give her space, man.” Yelena orders firmly.

The paparazzo laughs dismissively. The driver of the car has clumsily double parked and runs to join the man with his photo camera. He moves even closer to Kate than the first guy.

"Who are you going to give the newborn photoshoot to? Have you decided? Your fans are curious when they're going to see the baby."

Yelena glares at the guy directly across from her and pushes him forcefully without saying a word.

“Why are you acting like her security? You still on the payroll?"

"Because you're acting like a fucking prick. Back off." Yelena grits through her teeth.

"We're doing our job. We just wanna take a photo or two."

"Back off before I make you." Yelena almost growls at the men. Kate decides it’s time to intervene before things get out of hand.

"Okay. She hasn't had her coffee yet. Which she will, if you guys let us through. Please."

Kate speaks kindly and smiles at them, giving them the one good shoot they think they can sell. The paparazzi exchange a look before reluctantly taking a step back, still holding their cameras at the ready.

"We like you, Kate. You're the nice one. She's the rude one."

"If you're still here by the time we get out, you'll learn how rude I really am." Yelena threatens.

Kate softly chuckles as they step into the coffee shop.

---

Upon entering the quaint and charming mom-and-pop cafe, all eyes are on Kate and Yelena, and hushed murmurs instantly fill the air. Despite the attention from patrons, the staff remains unfazed. They recognize the pair as regulars and are accustomed to seeing them here often. A brief and discreet debate about regular coffee versus decaf takes place at the register. Kate ultimately gets her way and settles on her go-to: a pour-over made with Ethiopian Yirgacheffe beans, almond milk, a dash of hazelnut syrup, and cinnamon sprinkled on top. She also indulges in an assortment of enough delectable pastries to feed a small army, including almond flour muffins with blueberries, vegan gluten-free apple cider donuts, scones with lemon glaze, chocolate cake with avocado frosting, and cherry pie bars. Yelena prefers her coffee strong and black, so she gets her usual: dark roast with no sugar or cream.

After placing their order, Yelena leads them to a table to wait for their drinks and treats to be prepared. She pulls out a chair for Kate.

"You sit." Kate tells the blonde.

"You're going to be on your feet for a while tonight. Sit."

"I never said I wasn't going to, but you sit. Then I'll sit on you."

Yelena half huffs, half groans before reluctantly taking a seat. Kate wastes no time and settles herself onto Yelena's lap before wrapping her arm around the older woman’s neck. Yelena's hand instinctively finds its way to Kate's abdomen, feeling the chaotic movements of their unborn child under her palm. Triggered by Yelena’s touch, Kate’s fingers begin caressing slow circles on the blonde’s robust shoulders, causing her to shiver involuntarily.

“Kate, tone it down. We’re in public.” Yelena whispers, glancing nervously around the café.

Kate simply chuckles and nuzzles her face into Yelena's neck.

"Let 'em stare. Who cares? You're mine and I like to show you off." Kate whispers into Yelena’s ear before playfully nibbling on her earlobe.

Yelena pulls her head away and scowls at Kate. Too far. Despite her reservations and mild hatred of PDA, Yelena can't help but feel a sense of warmth and safety in Kate's embrace.

"They were being nice." Yelena looks at her, confused. "The guys. They're some of the nice ones. Don't make their jobs hard."

"Stalking you isn't a job. And they were being invasive...If the follow car..."

Kate cuts her off with a dramatic groan, leaning in to kiss the side of Yelena's head.

"They backed off the moment I gave them a good picture. That's all they want. Is it ideal? No. We just gotta work with it."

"Or I could break their cameras and they'd be too scared to come back." Yelena suggests, half-jokingly.

Kate chuckles.

"No breaking anyone's things. My lawyer would not be happy about that."

"I would." Yelena tells her with a smirk.

"I know you would. You're a little rage machine. Like this one..."

Kate places her free hand over Yelena's and shifts it slightly so she can feel where the baby is currently kicking.

"Woh. That was a strong one."

"Very much looking forward to her being lethargic." Kate tells her with a playful smile.

"It's not funny."

"Your reactions make it a little funny."

"You live to push my buttons. I know."

"I live to make you RELAX."

One of the servers approaches them with a bag and two to-go cups.

"Hope you enjoy! See you next time."

"Thank you." Kate takes her beverage and the bag, leaving Yelena to grab her cup. Kate takes a long sip, but Yelena doesn't drink hers. Kate looks at her. "I need you to have your coffee so you don't kill someone outside." Kate takes another gulp of her drink and stares at Yelena, who eventually relents. "You want to eat here? We can stay?"

"No. We have a big night. You need to take it easy.”

"Why are you treating me like I'll snap in half any second?” Kate complains, evidently vexed now.

"I'm not."

"You are. And frankly, it's a little condescending and a lot annoying."

Kate stands with a groan and makes her way to the door. Yelena follows close behind while the curious onlookers stare. Yelena’s neck grows red and hot as she can feel the weight of everyone's eyes on them.

"Kate. Kate, wait."

"I can handle opening my own door." Kate snaps as she pushes the door and exits.

The paparazzi are not far and spring back into action, swarming them anew.

"Did the coffee help?" The older man asks, trying to start a conversation.

Kate, her mood now soured, doesn't answer.

"I guess not." The other paparazzo remarks snarkily

"What are your thoughts on America's new girlfriend? The internet is saying she looks like you. Do you agree? Do you think she's not over you? Do you think she’s trying to copy your style?"

Yelena opens the door to the SUV, allowing Kate to slip inside without having to utter another word. Yelena closes the door and glares at the guys.

"What do you think? Do you think Kate and Ramone look alike?" The man points the camera at Yelena.

Yelena starts the car and revs the engine, eager to leave the paparazzi and their annoying questions behind. She maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the busy streets. As she drives, she keeps an eye on the rearview mirror and notices the paparazzi following them, evidently determined to get a picture or a comment.

Yelena's grip on the steering wheel tightens as she navigates through traffic, trying to shake them off. She takes a few quick turns, hoping to lose the tail, but they persistently follow them.

“They’re going to end up at the house regardless. Stop getting yourself worked up about it.” Kate places her hand on Yelena’s thigh and squeezes reassuringly before having another sip of her coffee.

Yelena nods, taking a steadying breath. She focuses on the road ahead, determined to get them to their destination safely and away from the paparazzi's prying eyes.

---

Yelena crosses the security gate into the driveway, parks the SUV in front of the mansion, and steps out as the gate closes. She can see the paparazzi in the car across the street, rubbernecking her. She fixes her gaze on one of the guys. He lifts his camera and snaps her picture through the last sliver of open space before the gate closes.

“Richards, get rid of those idiots. And until further notice, I want at least one of you patrolling the street every couple hours. Make sure none of those leeches are hanging around. Call the cops if you have to."

"Yes, ma'am." With a nod, Richards scurries off to follow Yelena's orders.

In the time it takes Yelena to give those directions, Kate has vanished into the house. Yelena walks in to find her hurrying up the stairs without holding onto the railing.

"Kate, you..."

"I would suggest you don't finish that sentence." Kate cuts her off, fuming.

Kate keeps moving, ignoring Yelena’s pleas to slow down. Yelena chases. Kate storms into their bedroom and turns to face the trailing Yelena.

"You don't think I can take care of myself, do you? Or her, for that matter. Are you going to hire someone to look over my shoulder whenever I'm with her to make sure I'm not fucking it up?"

"What? Of course I don't believe that. The thought has never crossed my mind. You're going to be an amazing mom."

"Then start acting like it."

Yelena steels herself, trying to guard her vulnerability.

"I'm trying to make sure you're safe."

After a beat, Kate drops her shoulder and walks over to Yelena.

"And I love you for it. I do. So much. But you're suffocating me. Sometimes you also make me question my sanity. I need you to trust that I wouldn't do anything that would put her at risk. Okay?"

"You can be careless, Kate."

Kate's lips curl up in a sly grin.

"Only sometimes…and within reason."

"More than sometimes.” Yelena rebuffs.

"Trust me."

"I do."

"Then stop being insane please." Yelena grumbles under her breath. "I'll let you hold my hand going down the stairs, but you have to chill it with the rest."

"I can TRY." Yelena tells her, frowning.

"Good." Kate pulls her toward the bed. “Now come nap with me."

"We JUST had coffee."

"She kept me up half the night. I'm exhausted. Nap with me...I'll let you get a little handsy if you ask nicely." Kate teases with a naughty tone. Yelena smiles and shakes her head.

"I have to go work out. I won't have time later."

"Ooooh...can I watch? That sounds more fun than sleeping. You look yummy when you're all sweaty."

Yelena nudges Kate onto the mattress.

"Sleep. You have some time before it gets crazy."

"Sleep with me." Kate pleads with a pout.

"I'll go work out, shower, and if you're still sleeping, I'll get in bed with you. Deal?"

"But I'll be asleep. I won't know you're napping with me. Why don't you get in bed now, then go do other stuff after I fall asleep?"

Yelena sighs and slips off her shoes, incapable of resisting a Kate Bishop request.

"You can't get mad if I wake you up when I'm trying to get out of bed."

"I won't. Promise."

Yelena lies down on her side of the bed, hoping to get comfortable, but before she can do so, Kate scoots over and throws her leg (and most of her body) over Yelena's. This new position causes Yelena to bear almost three-quarters of Kate's weight, making it onerous for her to move or adjust.

"This is going to make getting up later very difficult."

"No idea what you're talking about."

Kate smiles contentedly against Yelena's chest while Yelena lets out a dramatic exhale, realizing she has fallen into Kate's trap. She plants a soft kiss on the top of Kate's head and wraps her arms around her, one over her shoulder and the other around her belly. After a beat, Yelena feels a solid kick through Kate's stomach.

"That was a good one."

"You felt it?"

"Yeah."

"It's like she's opposed to me laying down. Starts going crazy every time I do. I think it pisses her off or something."

Yelena chuckles and starts running her hands up and down the side of Kate's stomach.

"Давайте сделаем сделку. Дай ей поспать сейчас, а я позволю тебе... я не знаю... чего ты хочешь? Мы могли бы договориться об условиях позже?" ["Let's make a deal. You let her sleep now and I'll let you...I don't know...what do you want? We could agree to terms later?"]

The baby delivers two consecutive, strong kicks, causing Kate to hiss in pain.

"Ow! What are you saying? She's clearly not liking it." Kate complains.

"That's confidential." Yelena switches back to Russian. "Ты выставляешь меня здесь в плохом свете. Работай со мной. Сделай это сейчас, а мы с тобой уладим это позже. У нас будет много времени." ["You're making me look bad here. Work with me. Do this now and you and I can settle it later. We'll have plenty of time."]

The kicking suddenly stops. They both hold, staying immobile for a long moment, trying to see if it will recommence...but it doesn't.

"I think she liked that better." Kate mumbles into Yelena's shirt with a smirk, her voice sleepy.

"She's a hard bargain. I know who she gets it from." Yelena quips.

Kate tilts her head to look up at Yelena with a goofy, sleepy smile.

"Were you negotiating with her?"

"As I said, that's confidential."

"You're very cute. VERY grumpy, but cute."

"I'm not." Yelena replies grumpily.

"Let's hope she doesn't have your temper, or we're in trouble."

"У тебя есть мой характер, сколько хочешь. Наш нрав в порядке." ["You have my temper all you want. Our temper is fine."] Yelena grumbles as she caresses Kate's extended midriff.

Kate's breathing eventually evens out, but the smile remains on her face. After a long moment, Yelena realizes that Kate has fallen asleep. She pauses, then cautiously attempts to move out from under the weight of the dozing brunette with measured movements. Suddenly, as she tries to shift, the baby kicks again. HARD. Yelena feels a second equally solid kick, causing her to momentarily stop and hold her breath.

"Хорошо. Хорошо. Я слышу тебя. Я никуда не поеду. Я останусь." ["Okay. Okay. I hear you. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay."] Yelena whispers in reassurance to the baby, her voice soft and gentle.

Yelena tries to resist falling asleep, but after some time, she eventually succumbs to slumber. They sleep soundly in each other's arms for a few hours, unaware that this would be the last time they would nap together as a family of two.

—

The house is madness. The energy is frenzied and there’s an endless flurry of activity, as it typically happens on award show days. Kate is perched in a comfy, plush chair while her team buzzes around her, attending to her every need while they get her glammed up. Kate’s focus gets yanked from the amiable conversation when her lower back spasms. She winces and shifts positions trying to find relief from the discomfort. Kate assumes she must have slept poorly because her back has been cramping and sore since she woke up. Kate's stylist hands Kate a champagne flute and starts pouring champagne. Kate looks at her, perplexed.

"Zero alc. Duh. Totally safe. Cheers..." The stylist toasts, tapping Kate’s flute with the bottle. "To the last one before the little princess gets here."

"Cheers." Kate smiles and takes a sip.

"Anyone wanna go in on a $20 bet that Yelena loses it if she sees Kate with a flute in her hand?" The hairstylist asks.

"Make it $50." The make-up artist retorts.

As if on cue, Yelena walks in, looking sweaty and breathing heavily.

"When do you..." She stops in her tracks, her expression quickly turning to horror when she sees Kate with the flute. "Kate..."

For an instant, everyone looks at each other in stunned silence, as if Kate has been caught doing something terrible. Then...they all crack up simultaneously.

"It's non-alcoholic, isn't it?" Yelena presses, thinking out loud.

"It's non-alcoholic." Kate confirms, still chuckling.

"Right...What time do you need me again?" Yelena doesn’t dwell, clearly embarrassed.

Kate glances up at her hairstylist, the same one who will be doing an intricate braid on Yelena's hair later.

"An hour, maybe?" The hairstylist responds.

"Okay. Should I change before or after?"

"After, babe." Kate offers a tender smile.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll go shower." Yelena walks off.

"She's seen you get ready for how many shows? And she's still asking if she should change before or after her hair." The stylist adds, amused.

"She'll never get the hang of it. But ask her what kind of rounds some weird gun no one's ever heard of uses and she'll tell you."

"You could've had anyone in the world, and that's who you went with..." The nail tech jokes.

"Might not seem like it, but it was an easy choice." Kate replies, laughing.

As they continue to prep for the ceremony, everyone jokes and laughs, making Kate forget about her back pain and any other worries. It's the last awards show of the season, and it is likely also her last event in general for a while, so Kate is determined to enjoy the moment.

---

The Academy Awards are the pinnacle of glamour and excitement in the entertainment industry. It’s the biggest night of the year. It's hectic and outlandish and there are people everywhere. Kate and Yelena sit in the back of the SUV, waiting for their moment to step out onto the red carpet. Kate looks ravishing in a long, flowing green chiffon dress with a pleated bodice and a low-cut V-neck that shows off her pregnancy curves. Her hair cascades in black waves down her back, and her makeup is flawless, perfectly complementing her ensemble.

Yelena is equally impressive in her monochrome outfit. She sports a printed and textured charcoal grey double-breasted jacket over matching shirt and trousers, and grey suede chukka boots. Her hair is styled in an intricate, show-stopping braid, and she wears minimal makeup, highlighting her natural beauty. There’s nothing visible on the eyes and just enough on the skin to make sure she isn't shiny.

[***For reference:***]

Kate's back spasms once more, and she huffs while quietly shifting in her seat, hoping to alleviate the pain inconspicuously. She doesn't want Yelena to notice and make a fuss about it. Kate knows she'll have to tend to it later with a warm pad or a massage when they finally return home.

"Can you do something for me?" Kate asks timidly, her voice quivering with a hint of nervousness.

"Of course. Anything."

"I want a good photo of us tonight. On the carpet."

"Kate..."

"You always disappear the moment we step out, but this one means a lot. Moms last big night out."

Yelena ponders for a moment before responding.

"The first part of the carpet." Yelena relents.

"What if the photographers on the other end are better?" Kate asks cheekily.

"They're all great." Yelena replies with a chuckle.

"You get dressed up and look super hot but won't let anyone see you. How am I supposed to brag about having the hottest baby mama if I got no pictures to post?"

Yelena chuckles.

"Unfortunately, everyone knows what I look like."

"Periodic reminders are good." Kate offers puppy eyes. "You've NEVER walked a whole carpet with me."

"Because they’re interested in you, not me."

"That's not true."

"I'm nobody, Kate."

"Also not true."

The car comes to a stop and within seconds, the door opens to the madness outside — there are people screaming, reporters interviewing, and hundreds of cameras flashing simultaneously. Yelena steps out of the vehicle first and holds out her hand for Kate. Kate shifts her clutch to her left hand so she can hold Yelena with her right. The instant Kate steps out, the crowd explodes, and she turns on the natural charm, flashing a wide smile. Despite being heavily pregnant and therefore uncomfortable, Kate is a natural at these affairs. She leads the way to the beginning of the carpet, with Yelena following closely behind.

Social and public events are one of the few times Kate takes the lead. It's an unspoken agreement they have, as Yelena is out of her depth in such situations and defers to Kate's expertise. Kate is excellent at working the crowd; she's been doing it for half her life. It would be foolish of Yelena not to let her take charge. Moreover, Yelena enjoys watching Kate dominate a space and draw all eyes to her. Frankly, it’s a bit of a turn-on for Yelena to know that at the end of the night, she gets to take home the one person that everyone else wants. It's been especially great with Kate being pregnant because that makes the marking of her territory extra prominent. That's Yelena's — all of it.

Kate leads them to the beginning of the carpet, holding onto Yelena's hand tightly. This is the point where Yelena would normally skulk away and suddenly reappear out of nowhere on the other end of the carpet when Kate was ready to go into the event. But this time, Kate isn't letting go of her hand. She lands on the first mark for photos and wraps her arms around Yelena's waist, anchoring her. A million flashes and screams of her name and directions on where to look go off simultaneously.

Yelena must pay more attention than Kate thought because now that her feet are to the fire, she’s acting like a natural. Kate can’t help but gawk at her with a giddy smile. Yelena feels Kate's eyes on her and pivots from looking at the sea of photographers to find blue eyes boring into her. Yelena locks her gaze with Kate’s and reciprocates her smile, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She's not used to being in the spotlight, but seeing Kate overflowing with shining admiration and love makes her feel like she's on top of the world. The cameras keep clicking, and the reporters keep shouting, but Yelena only has eyes for Kate.

"What?" A smile creeps on Yelena's face.

"You're kind of good at this."

"GIVE US A KISS!"

One of the photographers shouts from inside the mob on the other side of the barrier. Kate doesn't hesitate to comply. She probably would've regardless. Yelena stays put long enough not to make it look awkward but then immediately backs away. PDA is so not her fucking thing. Kate brings her thumb to Yelena’s lip and tenderly wipes the remnants of her lipstick off.

They walk about a dozen feet of the carpet then Kate's publicist approaches.

"ABC, E!, and ET want you."

"M'kay." Kate nods and turns to Yelena. "I'll be right back."

"Do your thing." Yelena responds with a forced smile as Kate is dragged away.

Within seconds Kate's in front of a camera and, now alone, Yelena instantly looks uncomfortable and out of place.

"You are one hot mama in that dress, Kate Bishop." The live reporter says while placing air kisses on each of Kate’s cheeks.

"Thank you. It's stunning and comfortable. Can't ask for anything more on a night like this."

"Are you excited to be presenting tonight?"

"Absolutely. I'm thirty-nine weeks, so it's been 'this can happen anytime' for a bit now. None of us were sure if I'd be here, and there were backups in place if I wasn't. My personal backup was to stay a little longer than I should've during rehearsals to get a sneak peek of the show's run-through in case I had to miss the real thing, and...let me tell you... People are not ready. The level of spectacle is insane.”

"That must be exciting for everyone at home to hear. So knowing your angel could join us any minute, are you taking advantage of the night out and hitting some after-parties?”

Kate smiles mischievously.

"That's our plan. At least for a little bit."

"I have three kids. Take advantage of all of these nights while you can." Says the second presenter.

"You say 'our' plan. Who did you bring with you tonight?"

Kate glances over her shoulder, expecting to see Yelena where she left her, but to her surprise, Yelena is nowhere to be found. It's not the first time Yelena has done this, disappearing without a trace. Kate is well aware of Yelena's habit and is amazed by her ability to find the one spot where TV cameras (or Kate) can't spot her. She feels a bit proud of her girlfriend's ninja-like skills but also a little irritated that Yelena has vanished once again. Kate turns back to the interviewer, trying to mask her momentary distraction.

“My partner, Yelena. She’s around here somewhere.”

The interviewers laugh.

“Did you lose her?”

Kate shrugs.

"She’s like a magician. Just...poof. Vanishes. All the time."

"I think it might be a secret power all partners have. My husband always does the same thing whenever we’re in public."

"It's slightly infuriating."

"It is. But you know what I'm not mad at? The color of that dress. Tell us more about it. Who are you wearing? What was the process to get this piece made?”

Kate smiles and eagerly shares the details of her ensemble.

Not too long after, the segment is over. Kate steps off the platform and her publicist immediately ushers away for more press opportunities. Before they get to the second interview, Kate feels yet another sudden shooting pain in her back. She can't wait to stop being pregnant. These random aches all over, and all the damn time, are some of the worst parts of it.

After Kate completes all the interviews and poses for all the photos, she realizes Yelena is still missing. She reaches the end of the carpet, and suddenly, Yelena wondrously reappears.

"I asked you for one thing." Kate mumbles, slightly irritated. "Where did you even go? I was looking for you."

"I was around. You looked great." Yelena replies nonchalantly. "And we did take a ton of photos at the beginning. I'm sure it's easier when I'm not in your way."

"Whatever. I wanted you there tonight." Kate retorts, her frustration palpable.

Yelena looks contrite as they cross the doors into the impressive theater and move to find their seats.

---

The Dolby Theatre hums with excitement as the Academy Awards are well underway. The opulent grand hall exudes glamour, decked out with dazzling crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and majestic golden statuettes lining the stage. Every guest is the embodiment of elegance, clad in their finest attire, from shimmering gowns and sleek suits to immaculate hairstyles. The air is thick with anticipation and elation as attendees eagerly await the announcement of winners.

The audience erupts in thunderous applause as Kate and her co-presenter step onto the stage. The stage lights dim and the cameras focus on the duo as they stride arm-in-arm towards their marks. The energy in the room is rousing as Kate takes her place at the microphone, gazing out into the sea of famous faces. She clears her throat and begins to speak, her voice amplified throughout the theater.

“A loving husband forced to confront his mortality, a courageous civil rights leader fighting for justice, a brilliant inventor battling his demons, a serial killer attempting to redeem himself, and an artist dealing with their most stubborn partner yet...I can relate to that last one..." Kate ad-libs and glances at the blonde sitting in the second row, suddenly looking particularly frowny. The entire audience guffaws. "...These are the performances that landed these five talented actors on the nominee’s list."

The very end of the last word gets caught in Kate's throat when her back spasms particularly violently. Suddenly, a thought flashes through her mind: was…was that a contraction? A moment of panic sets in, but she keeps a winsome smile on her face and remains composed as the man beside her naturally takes over reading his lines on the teleprompter.

---

About fifteen minutes later, Kate makes her way back to her seat and intertwines her fingers with Yelena's. As a new pair of presenters take the stage to introduce the next category, Yelena leans over at her.

"You did amazing. The dig was unnecessary..." Yelena tells her only half in jest. "...but still amazing."

Kate musters a strained smile and leans back on her chair, trying to stay composed as she feels the start of another contraction.

"I'm pretty sure I'm in labor."

Kate doesn't think she's ever seen Yelena's head move so fast. Her eyes widen to the size of plates and color drains from her face. She immediately tries to stand, but Kate grips her hand firmly, indicating she should stay in place.

"We're live." Kate reminds her in a whisper.

"And you're having a baby!" Yelena mumbles back, alarmed.

"It's fine...I think. I don't think she's coming right this second."

Kate grimaces in pain as the contraction peaks, but she tries to reassure Yelena. However, Yelena’s eyes haven’t left Kate and she notices when the brunette scowls.

"We're leaving."

"Stay. Put." Kate clenches Yelena's hand tighter. "Two more categories until commercials. It's fine. I can wait." Kate offers a faint smile. Yelena tilts her head, concern written all over her face. Kate forces herself to smile wider, for Yelena’s sake. "Trust me." Kate mouths before turning her attention back to the stage, clapping when the winner is announced while doing her best to hide her discomfort.

---

After enduring twelve excruciatingly long minutes and two agonizing contractions, the show finally cuts to commercials. Yelena wastes no time and grabs Kate's hand, practically dragging her up the aisle. The room seems to spin as Kate struggles to keep up with Yelena's frantic pace. The world around her somehow also seemingly moves in slow motion, her senses numbed by the intense pain. The blinding lights and noise of the show fade into a dull roar as they make their way to the doors. The rush of adrenaline keeps Kate going even as her body screams in protest.

They burst through the doors into the relative quiet of the lobby, and Yelena immediately puts her phone to her ear. Kate's heart races as another contraction starts to build, and she squeezes Yelena's hand tightly. Yelena's panic is palpable as she speaks into the phone.

"We need the car. Right now...Now." Yelena turns to Kate. "I made sure they let him stay up the block just in case. He's on his way." Yelena expresses urgently as they walk down the mostly empty red carpet.

"Your stress is stressing me out."

"I'm not stressed." Yelena retorts, very much stressed.

Kate stops in her tracks, solidly planting her feet on the carpet, forcing Yelena to turn around and face her. Yelena looks at her bewildered.

"I need you to calm down. Please. You're...giving off vibes."

"What vibes? I'm not giving off anything."

"Calm down."

"Kate..." Yelena steps closer so she can whisper and grit through her teeth. "...You're having the baby."

"Yeah. ME. I am. And what I need from you is chill, peaceful, zen vibes."

"I'm not zen. I don't do 'zen'." Yelena admits and Kate can’t help but smile.

"I'm very aware. But I'm asking you to try. You're wound too tightly and you rub off on me. I need to be the opposite of wound right now."

A text comes through. Yelena looks at her phone.

"Car's here." Yelena tries to pull Kate again.

"Nope. I'm not moving until you loosen up." Kate utters, looking Yelena in the eye.

"This is serious, Kate." Yelena pleads.

"I will have this baby right here. Don't think I won't."

Yelena grumbles under her breath. She takes a breath and exhales. All for show.

"There. Relaxed. Can we go now?"

"I need you to do it for real."

"Kate...this isn't a game."

"I'm the one feeling this. I know it's not. Relax. In..." Kate takes a deep breath. "...Out." She exhales.

"You’re being ridiculous. We need to get you home."

"In...Out." Yelena swallows a groan before inhaling and exhaling with Kate. "In...Out."

Kate inhales and exhales slowly. Yelena reluctantly follows suit.

"This is a little absurd." Yelena tells her, but visibly more relaxed.

Kate looks around, taking the Dolby Theater, the still set-up cameras, the straggling crew, producers, and publicists milling about, wholly clueless to their current situation. She can’t help but smile.

"It is. But...she's our kid. I don't know why we expected she would want anything but a grand entrance."

Their eyes meet, and time seems to freeze as they share a moment. It's only the two of them here. They both realize that their lives will never be the same after this instant. But the moment is fleeting as Kate's face contorts ever so slightly. Yelena is the only one who could detect a change this subtle in Kate’s expression. Another contraction. Yelena breaks the silence. Impatient.

"Can we PLEASE leave?"

Kate shakes her head, trying to suppress a groan. Yelena gets the implied message. Not right now. She squeezes Kate's hands, offering the only support and comfort she can in their current predicament. The contraction fades away and Kate exhales before standing up straight again. But then, her face changes.

“She's coming. Right now." Kate tells the blonde with panic in her voice.

Yelena doesn't know what to do with herself. Hysteria is literally radiating off her. After a moment, Kate chuckles and returns to her usual casual and relaxed self.

"YOU'RE NOT FUNNY, KATHERINE."

"I'd like to think I am. Just a little...You should've seen your face." Kate teases. Yelena grumbles under her breath as she turns on her heels and pulls Kate toward the sidewalk and waiting car. "It was a dry run for later. I know exactly what you'll look like when she's actually coming now."

"Not funny." Yelena says curtly.

"We need to text Ash and Laney." Kate reminds Yelena of the midwife and doula they've been working with the entire pregnancy.

"Texted them inside. Told them contractions were about five and a half apart. They're on their way to the house."

"You timed my contractions during the show?"

"Obviously."

Yelena says matter of factly as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Kate catches up to Yelena to walk beside her instead of being dragged behind her. She plants a kiss on her cheek.

"Always on top of everything."

Yelena spots their driver. He opens the door for them. Yelena guides Kate inside the SUV, and as she sits down, she gives the driver a quick glance.

"Home. As fast as you can."

"Yes, ma'am." The man replies.

Yelena hops inside, joining Kate in the back seat, and closes the door behind her. Kate immediately links their fingers and rests her head on Yelena's shoulder.

---

Some five hours later, as the clock struck 11:53 PM on a chilly late February night, Eleanor Archer Belova makes a rather dramatic entrance into the world and into her mothers' loving arms.

The long list of first names they discuss while trying to conceive quickly becomes irrelevant after the unexpected passing of Kate's mother only days before they learn they’re pregnant. As soon as they discover they’re having a girl, only one name feels fitting - that of Kate's biggest champion.

Kate's breakout role as a fierce and skilled world-class archer in a blockbuster dystopian film trilogy not only marked the beginning of her illustrious career but also served as a defining moment in her life. For years she joked about naming one of her future children after the character that had brought her so much success, but it wasn't until they were discussing names that the idea took root. As they debated name combinations, Kate mentioned it in passing and the comment took on a life of its own. It suddenly became clear what the baby's middle name had to be regardless of gender. It was a fitting tribute to Kate’s past and journey.

Ellie Belova will never know what it is to go a second without feeling utterly loved. No matter what challenges come her way, she'll always feel the warmth of her mothers' devotion. Yelena's intense nature and unwavering determination will drive her to protect her daughter at all costs, even if it means taking extreme measures. On the other hand, Kate will offer Ellie staunch support, guidance, and endless laughter as they navigate the ups and downs of life together. As Ellie grows older, she'll come to realize that her mothers' love is infinite and limitless. They'll always be there for her, cheering her on through every success and comforting her through every setback. And even when they're no longer by her side, Ellie will carry with her the knowledge that she was always cherished beyond measure.

#bishova #kate bishop #yelena belova #kate x yelena #yelena x kate #kybgau #kybgaup #anonymous #answers

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prydainroyals · 7 months

Text

((Trigger warning for a gaslighty, neurotic bitch.))

"Alice. Alice and Arthur," George interrupted.

"What?"

"The twins are named Alice and Arthur," repeated the King, greatly annoyed.

"What does that have to do with aything? Honestly, you're more fun when you're drunk," Gwyneth scoffed.

George gritted his teeth.

"Why are we having this meeting, Mother?" he asked through them.

Gwyneth heaved a dramatic sigh as though she weren't the one playing stupid, neurotic games, and folded her arms in that infuriatingly defensive and insecure way of hers.

"You don't need to be testy," she huffed. "As I was saying, before you interrupted me," she went on, adding a bit of simper to her voice that grated on George's nerves like nails on a chalkboard, "Alicia intends to plan a dinner for Little Artie's return."

Silence drifted suddenly between them until George deigned to peer up at his mother through tired eyes.

"Well? Go on then," he told her.

"I was just waiting to see if you were listening!" came her haughty reply--George's temper nearly broke but he held firm, and simply ground his teeth in seething silence.

"Anyway, I want you not to do it," Gwyneth commanded suddenly, again, as if she weren't the one playing stupid little games, changing subjects and wasting George's time. "Only Little Princes who behave get rewards,~" Gwyneth touted like some sort of cruel and petty mantra.

It was one George had heard hundreds of times before during his own childhood.

His head continued to pound, light and sound breached his senses like spears, and he ground his teeth so hard he thought they might fall out any minute.

Both Arthur and Alice's words had been buzzing around his head as of late. He couldn't stop thinking about them, or that he had just spent Longest Night without his sons, both he... he did miss dearly, and one of whom was still actually alive.

George pulled in a long and shaking breath, inhaling deeply:

"--No."

"... I beg your pardon?" Gwyneth snapped.

Still looking at his shoes like the coward George felt he was, he soldiered on.

"I did not stutter, Mother," George toned with the sort of timbre of someone whose patience has long since run out, but to whom decorum still mattered just a little bit.

"Yesterday, Alice asked my permission to set up the engagement in honor of her brother, and I am due to give her my answer this morning."

"You'd better let her down lightly, then!" Gwyneth threatened airily.

"I will grant Alice permission and resources," George spat, "and I will publicly support MY her, His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Arthur. Not Little Artie, Mother, but Arthur. A-R-T-H-U-R," the King spelled out plainly and loudly in as pig-headed a manner as he could manage.

"I know how Arthur is spelled!" Gwyneth scoffed defensively, but before she could begin another scolding, George intercepted her again:

"Good! Then say his name correctly, Mother!" the King glared upward at her, his voice loud and taut with all the building tension within him cresting unbearably.

"Now if you will excuse me--My daughter and I have a dinner to plan. You are dismissed."

"Georgie--"

"Get. OUT!!" roared the King, loudly enough that even Gwyneth obeyed.

---

Y I K E S. This was a bit painful to write. I think most of us know someone like this.

- - -

PREV | BEGINNING | NEXT

- - -

#c: george x #c: gwyneth #atff: story

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blindbatalex · 3 years

Text

May I present you a new carraville au? /////

Gary wakes up feeling like shit.

He is plastered onto the bed on his belly; the pillow is pressing into his nose; he is still in last night's clothes and wearing one shoe. His head is pounding, every muscle aching, and it feels as if a small animal died in his mouth.

When he finally opens his eyes against the blinding light, he spends a few seconds staring at the lump on the other side of the bed, the patch of skin--a neck, Gary wagers--visible among the tangle of bedsheets and pillows, uncomprehending. Then he groans. Carragher. Of course it's Carragher.

He was so drunk, Gary didn't think he would survive the trip back to Liverpool and it seemed like a great idea at the time to offer his house for the night. And of course the bastard fell asleep in his bed. Gary is still clothed, which is good; he thinks back through the fog of his epic hangover to last night to make sure and-

Fuck.

With a grimace he turns over to his back. They were so drunk, at the time it also felt like a great idea to pull Jamie into the toilets and snog him against the wall like teenagers.

No more charity matches, he decides as he stares at the ceiling, the morning light like daggers in his skull. And no nights out with Carragher.

Carragher for his part is lying still as a corpse--has been since Gary woke up. If he has kicked it in the night, in Gary's house- heart pounding, Gary grabs a handful of the lump under the duvet and shakes it vigorously. The covers shift at this and as a string of semi intelligible curses filters through from underneath, Gary lets out the breath he was holding--the inquest would have been a nightmare--and leaving Carragher still mumbling senselessly, peels himself off the bed.

And then he sees the framed jersey on the wall.

~*~

Jamie wakes up to Gary stabbing him in the ear over and over again, voice shrill as bayonets.

"Carragher!"

For fuck’s sake.

Jamie's head is throbbing as is every muscle in his body, and Gary's neurotic yelling is barely tolerable on the best of days. If he could humanly get out of bed, he would strangle Gary with his bare hands but, he can't, so he draws further inside the covers, pressing the pillow harder over his head to cover his ears against the offending noise.

Sadly, his reprieve is short lived; a moment has barely passed before his shelter is ripped away in a motion as cruel as it is swift.

"What now you twat," Jamie mutters as he shields his eyes with his forearm. He has been knocked unconscious before; this headache puts even that to shame--and there Gary is, being Gary at no doubt 5am in the morning over some imagined slight or other.

"There is a framed Manchester City jersey on my wall," Gary replies angrily. "I take pity on you and open my house to you and this is your idea of a joke?"

Jamie groans, but this only makes Gary's yapping worse. When he puts his mind onto something--or worse still, when something or someone gets under his skin--Gary is like a dog with a bone, and a terrier at that too. Or a Chihuahua. This last thought makes him snort; he grimaces instantly, certain that he just signed his own death warrant, but the dreaded reaction never comes, and when he opens his eyes just a crack, he sees that Gary has moved onto the hallway to continue his angry monologuing by...what was it again that offended him again? A picture?

Ah yes, a framed jersey--which he sees when he drags himself out of the bed and shuffles to the hallway with a sigh.

"How did you even get it in," Gary is saying, "hid it in the driveway, knowing that if you acted drunk enough I would take pity and invite you back to mine? Honestly Jamie. Or did you pay someone..."

Jamie rubs at his temples and stares at the offending, retro jersey in its beautiful glass frame as if it was a Greek scroll on display, its meaning just as lost, as Gary drones on in the background. Jamie certainly cannot take credit for it--he only has flashes of yesterday, Soccer Aid, the afterparty, a makeshift microphone of a beer bottle; he was drunk out of his mind by the end and certainly in no state to sneak a framed retro Man City jersey in, wonderful as the prank would have been.

Gary is standing with his body three-quarters turned towards it, the frame, and Jamie's head is pounding, and it is so terribly bright in the hallway with morning light streaming in--he would have noticed far sooner otherwise.

There isn't a single line on the side of Gary's face he can see, the skin smooth as a baby's bottom.

"Gary."

He can hardly hear his own voice but something must have filtered through because the monologue stops as abruptly as if it's been cut with a knife. It would have made Jamie's breath catch in his throat any other time--how Gary can be furious or wound up or in a fit but he will stop, just like that, at a single word from Jamie.

But Gary turns to him, and his hair, styled in a short, conservative cut just last night, is now flopping onto his forehead as if he has just come home from auditioning for a boyband.

A vision then, in front of him--from a half remembered past, his earliest days with England, the derbies soaked in blood red, from wet dreams he has dared not voice nor remember.

Gary looks as stricken as he feels, his pink mouth hanging open in an O, and knowing what he will find, Jamie runs a hand through his own hair, his face, only to encounter the buzzcuts of his youth and no sign of the crow's feet that has nested around his eyes for years now.

He pinches his skin, blinks--the vision remains, clad in flesh and real as the ground that stands underneath his feet.

"This cannot be," Gary mutters and Jamie realises only then how pale he has gone and he is too late--before he can reach out, Gary's knees buckle under him and he pitches forward, looking for all intents and purposes, like a dainty prince.

#my fic #carraville #football rpf #im gonna call this one #be careful what you wish for au

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youalexturnermeon · 3 years

Text

Chasing the Past Pt. 1(Johnny Lawrence x Reader)

Request by Anon: Could I please get a Johnny Lawrence imagine where he and the reader (who is daniels sister) are secretly dating. Maybe like an old flame back in the 80s and now they reconnected?

A/N: Soo, I decided to split this int two parts since I think nobody wants to read 56746 trillion words in one go on here. This is set about 7 years after Karate Kid and Y/N and Johnny hooked up again. Please let me know if you’re up to part 2

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, drugs and sex, reader is of age

Wordcount: 1709

It felt odd to be back again. After all it has been more than five years ago since you set foot onto the Los Angeles’ ground for more than just Christmas or a weekend since you moved to New York. Your mom and Daniel stayed in LA and it looked like a forever solution for them, but unlike your family you were never bound to California. And yet after going to college in New York City and working there for two years the tables have turned and you lost your job. And since New York was a pricy city you had no other way than moving back to your family for a few months before you found another job. You could either stay with your slightly neurotic mom or with your over-protective brother. And although the decision was tough at first because you love both of them as much as they went on your nerves, you decided to stay at Daniel’s last minute. After all, only two years separated you and you had a lot in common.

“What are you doing tonight, (Y/N)?” Daniel asked you as you unpacked the last bit of your suitcase “Because I thought, since it’s your first day back home, we could maybe go out for Sushi.”

“Oh Danny” you sighed and laughed “Are you still not over your Karate and Japan obsession?”

Even with you being the long grown-up younger sibling you still loved to mock your brother. He stuck his tongue out and gave you a light shove.

“Fuck you!”

You shoved him back and then he shoved you again, going back and forth like 10-year olds until eventually you both got tired of it and started laughing.

“No seriously, do you have any plans or – “

“Probably going to a party on the beach, like the old times, catch up with some old friends, Linda asked me. I’m actually leaving in about an hour. We can go tomorrow” you answered casually und started picking out a suitable outfit, you never knew who you could be running in from the past.

“I never understood what you all had with the parties on the beach. They’re lame” “Just because you got your ass kicked during a beach party ‘cause you just couldn’t stand not being the centre of attention for once and simply had to play a noble hero, doesn’t mean the parties are lame” “And just because you had the biggest crush on Lawrence since that day doesn’t mean I was wrong for protecting Ali”

Daniel tried to mock you; but you could hear how hurt he was still, thinking back of his teenage years filled with rivalry and heartbreak. You tried to hide a laugh, if he’d also knew that you and Johnny Lawrence hooked up a couple of weeks before you went to college, he’d probably just kill himself out of pity.

“Still hurts, huh, Danny?” you voiced immediately, and he just shrugged it off.

“Just be careful later, okay? I can also pick you up if you want to.” “I’m not 15 anymore, you don’t have to pick me up. You can also just come with me.” “Nah” Daniel shook his head, “I never liked your friends”

“Your loss, it’s never too late to deal with your past” you joked. When your brother left the room, you put on a tight crop top, slipped in your jean shorts and tied a sweater around your hips in case it got cold. You thought, you looked great – you were ready to go.

____

At first, it felt even weirder to be included in your old friend group that it was being back in L.A. But with the alcohol flowing and joints passing and dancing and talking and goofing around it became more and more natural. You weren’t teenagers anymore; you were all young adults and yet if felt like being 16 all over again. Reconnecting felt great. Maybe after all these years of you telling yourself that you didn’t need California and all the people belonging there, convincing yourself that not one cell in your body longed after the warm climate and carelessness, you finally understood that it was a big lie you told yourself. You missed Reseda and you missed all your friends. With all the sentiment finally catching up after five years of chasing you plus the booze and the exhaustion, you had to take a moment for yourself. You took a short walk along the beach and stood there with your feet being caressed by the waves. You drunkenly smiled to yourself, you could finally be happy again.

“(Y/N) fucking LaRusso!”, you suddenly heard a familiar voice behind you which immediately pulled you right out of your thoughts, “Am I dreaming or is that really the girl that broke my heart?”

You didn’t even have the chance to turn around, you were promptly spun around by strong muscular arms and landed in a tight and warm embrace. A natural laugh echoed through the night. You inhaled the familiar scent of the person with the even more familiar voice and when you looked up you saw this face that could’ve been an angel’s if it wasn’t for the bright blue eyes filled with all the mischief in the world. He looked older than the last time you have seen him, his face was more edged than five years ago; and you might’ve been imagining it; but he also got a little taller.

“Johnny!” you shrieked and wrapped your arms even tighter around him “What are you doing here?”

“A little birdie told me the better LaRusso in back in town and I decided to go and see for myself. Since I couldn’t get a hold of you in over five years. It seems like you have been avoiding me at all costs, no letters, no calls, no visits. And it was successful until now.”

He let go of you and stepped back to get a better look at you. You, too, have changed a lot but now you were the hottest girl in town for Johnny.

“Now you can’t escape me”

“To be honest, I have been avoiding everybody since I moved to New York. I didn’t think Johnny Lawrence had a heart in the first place and especially not one to break it” you said; and you bluntly took his hand and started dragging him back to the gathering where everybody still was drinking and dancing “Let’s go have a drink and catch up”

“What do you mean, you didn’t know if I had a heart and that you broke it” he laughed and devotedly let himself being hauled behind you. He would let you do anything to him, right now. He missed you and never wanted this moment to end.

“At first, the little LaRusso seduces me, gives me some kind of victory over the shit LaRusso, gifts me the best month of my life with the best sex of my life and without a word disappears to the other side of the country. This shattered my little heart into pieces”

“Fuck off, Johnny Lawrence” you grinned “As if this somehow tickled you in any sense. Let’s just get drunk and forget about it”

Johnny was hurt you didn’t believe him because for once he did not lie about this. You leaving, really left him all broken for a few weeks and he still loved to remember the time you spent together. But since this was ancient history now, he was okay with just getting drunk with you.

“Hey guys, look what the cat dragged in” you loudly exclaimed when you and Johnny, still holding your hand, arrived in midst of all the partying people “Johnny fucking Lawrence! Can you fucking believe this???”

“That Johnny Lawrence you were crushing on since you first saw him kicking your brother’s ass?” Linda, your oldest friend from high school, the one who took you to that party, asked sarcastically whilst handing you and Johnny red cups filled with booze. You excitedly nodded.

“Yeah, I was the one who told him that the less famous (Y/N) LaRusso is back”

“No way!” you shrieked and threw your lightly drunken self on Linda, hugging her “Thank you!”

“Jesus, I didn’t know, (Y/N) would be that happy to see me” Johnny whispered to Linda when you let go of her and shifted your attention to other friends wanting to know about you and the infamous Johnny Lawrence who still seemed to be a star amongst all although everyone finished high school years ago.

“To be honest, I thought she’d jump on my throat just like her big brother if she sees me here”

“Don’t worry, I got her drunk enough before you arrived” Linda said.

“Thank you!” Johnny mouthed; he was the happiest he had been in years. He took a deep breath and spun you around, so for the second time today you laded directly in his embrace which now turned into a dance. And to be fair, the night couldn’t get any better for you either. Johnny and you laughed and talked and drank and danced, getting closer and closer to each other with every song. And the rest of the night turned into a big wonderful blur.

___

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was your terribly aching head. You didn’t even open your eyes yet and you already knew how terrible of a hangover that would be. You tried not to move but even the slightest motion that involved nothing more than breathing shot a bullet of pain right to your brain. Finally, when you dared to slightly open your eyes you realized that your head was resting on a muscular chest, softly falling and rising. You were not alone and were not in your bed and especially not in Daniel’s apartment. Curiously you lifted the covers that were lazily thrown over two bodies and a silent “FUCK” escaped your lips. You were completely naked and the athletic man on whose chest you were resting was too bare ass naked.

“Fuck!” you whispered again; and you would’ve had laughed if you knew that it wouldn’t cause you any pain and blurry glimpses of the night came suddenly back to you.

Click for Part 2

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence imagine #johnny lawrence fluff #daniel larusso #karate kid #karate kid imagine #karate kid fluff #william zabka #ralph macchio #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

Photo

CALL ME CAT, chapter sixteen

Summer 2018

The only thing worse than being hungover was having to face all of them the next morning. I didn’t remember much between quitting and climbing onto the bus, Jules draped a blanket over me and suddenly the sun was rising.

Now I sat in a hotel room somewhere, squinting at the beams of light through the window and reaching out for a cup of coffee that Leah handed over.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice quiet.

She was silent for a moment, watched me take a sip before she spoke. “Do you really want out?”

I thought about it for a second. Somehow, the entire time the band gained traction and our careers got bigger and better, my life seemed to spiral out of control and I became more of a mess than I thought humanly possible. So I nodded.

The door pushed open, Ian was in the same clothes from the night before, bags under his eyes let me know that I’d created a hellish task for him. Ask about paperwork, call the right people, figure out what the hell was going on.

“Hi,” he said, hands in his pockets, a quick sigh before he made eye contact. “How do you feel?”

I let out a sarcastic laugh, unsure if he was asking to be nice or to rub it in my face that I had been a drunk mess for the umpteenth time.

“Like shit, Ian.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Well, I need to know if you’re actually leaving or if that was just you being drunk and upset. Either way we need to have a whole meeting this morning about what went on and what we do moving forward. Last night was not okay.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, unprepared for his directness. “I meant it,” I told him.

A pause, almost like he didn’t really think it would happen. “Uh, okay,” he looked around the room and pulled out his phone. “I have to call people then. Can I ask you a question, first?”

Hands around the coffee cup, I said: “Shoot.”

“Is this about Harry?”

“No,” I shook my head. “It’s about me.”

It was partially about Harry. I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t stand the constant tug of war or the impossible task of trying to understand him. I figured it was best to not try at all.

The door pushed open again, Niall was on the other side, his lips parted when he saw me. “Already signing shit?”

“Niall,” Ian sighed, hoping to not let things get as rowdy as they did the night before. His voice was tired and the way he said Niall’s name told me that a confrontation was the last thing he needed right now.

“Already dissolving everything we worked for?”

“What’s happening?” Miles popped up behind him, then Harry and Jules.

More nervous squirming on my end. Ian hadn’t mentioned the meeting would be now.

“Nothing is happening, we’re talking,” Ian said when he turned to face them. “And since you’re all here, I guess you can come in.”

They filed in, quiet and angry and unsure what was happening. I tried to focus my gaze on the lid of my latte. Steam had gathered underneath, tiny bubbles of heat were trapped inside--like I was trapped in this room. They sat on a sofa and Jules took to the floor, eyes avoiding mine when I finally had the courage to look up.

“Do you want to tell them?” Ian turned to me.

I shook my head, sipped my coffee again and wished I could sink into the chair. Could they blame me? Did any of them think that this was good for any of us?

“Cat is looking to leave the band,” Ian nodded. “I have to call people and figure out what type of paperwork needs to happen. I’ll have things to sign for all of you--I’m going to have to talk to the label’s lawyer first, though.”

“So that’s just it?” Niall asked again, his eyes pointed at me with a furious stare. “You’re a liar and a quitter?”

“Niall I don’t think you really understand,” I told him, anger rising in my voice. “But if you’d like to make a lot of assumptions, by all means, go ahead.”

“S’my only choice, right? Since you’ve been lying.”

“You guys need to figure out what you’re doing from here. Are you interested in staying in the band?” Ian tried to break up the tension, held a hand in my direction to quiet me.

“Without Cat?” Miles asked, a wrinkle in his forehead when he made eye contact with me. “With no lead singer?”

“Just the four of us?” Jules pulled her legs up to her chest, her voice was quiet and high pitched.

“Yeah, I mean, the four of you can continue on.”

“I don’t know,” Niall let out a breath. “I’m too pissed off to figure out what the fuck we should do.”

“Right,” Ian nodded. “Think about it. But we need to cancel the show tonight, and tomorrow, really. Before we figure out what the next step is.”

Niall looked up at me and shook his head, a sarcastic laugh before he said: “Great, cancel them.”

The swampy landscape of Florida passed by my window, the white lines on the edge of the street blurred as we neared my parents’ house. Heart in my throat when I knocked on the door, the only thing more embarrassing than hiding out in Florida while headlines blew over was realizing I didn’t have a key to my childhood home.

Marta smiled when she tugged the door open, wrapped her arms around me and didn’t say anything, she didn’t need to.

But my mother did. She appeared around the corner, glasses perched on her nose and expecting eyes that grazed over my figure. “You look tired.”

I held back an unsurprised laugh. “I am,” I admitted. “It’s been a busy few days.”

“Quitting your band and coming home doesn’t sound busy.”

“Well, it was a lot of paperwork.”

Marta tried to ease the tension. “Do you want a snack? A drink?”

“I’m fine,” I told her, a reassuring nod before I looked back at my mom. “Thanks for letting me come home.”

“Well…” she made a disapproving sound with her tongue, a shrug of her shoulders as if she always knew the band was destined for failure. “What happened?”

I tilted my head and looked at her for a second. She couldn’t really care--her question was more likely a nosy way to put the puzzle pieces together. I wasn’t stupid enough to think her book club wasn’t asking questions.

“I think I have a drinking problem.”

Her eyes went wide for a second, but she regained her composure in a quick beat. I kept talking before she could say anything.

“And I think you do too, to be honest, but, that’s really none of my business.” I shrugged my shoulders and picked up my suitcase, turned on my feet to head for the stairs.

“Catherine,” her voice was frantic. “Did you just say you think I have a drinking problem?”

“Yep,” I said over my shoulder. She was now a few steps behind me, heels clicking on the marble floors.

“That’s absurd, you’re absolutely out of your mind.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, lips parted when I turned around to cut her off.

“Maybe I am, mom. Maybe I’m completely fucking neurotic at this point because of you.”

“Me? What are you talking about? How could I possibly have anything to do with your--band mess?”

“Because while you were too busy pouring glass after glass of Chardonnay, I was upstairs having panic attacks and nightmares and developing PTSD. But you didn’t give a fuck.”

She let out a short noise, maybe one of shock or even frustration. “I was grieving, Catherine.”

“Me too, but I guess this house wasn’t big enough for the both of us.”

She didn’t reply, her eyes blinked a few times in a robotic way before I lugged my suitcase up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door shut.

My phone was buzzing every few minutes--messages, DMs, people contacting me in every way to figure out what went wrong and where I was.

But none of my friends. Niall and Jules had no clue where I was. I boarded a plane the night I signed paperwork, only 23 hours after I told them I was out. Landed first in New York to meet with my lawyer, then one with label people to finalize an arrangement. They were free to go on without me if they chose.

Went back to my apartment, poured out the bottles of Tequila and Champagne that had been a mainstay. Threw some clothes in a suitcase and took a car to JFK. Now, here I was, standing in my childhood bedroom with open balcony doors that let in a nice breeze.

Whether or not I felt good about how it came out, the fact that everyone knew was a relief. I didn’t have to shrink away from pictures of Cameron in the bathroom or ignore the memories that still floated to my mind every once in a while. It still hurt, but now that the hurt was out in the open, it could finally breathe.

When I sat on the balcony that night and looked out to the Lagoon, a buzzing from my phone beside me lasted longer than I expected. One, then two, then three. A phone call.

From Lila.

I stared at the screen for a minute, momentarily convincing myself that it was a butt dial, a mistake. Maybe she hadn’t heard what happened.

But then I answered and I didn’t expect her to be so nice.

“Cat! Hi! I was just calling to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m alright,” I said it with a nod, unsure if the words were true or just my automatic answer. “I’m in Florida--at my parents.”

“I figured,” she sighed. “I would need a minute away too.”

“Lila--you’re not mad at me?”

“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?”

“Well, I quit the band and I was lying to them for a while and--”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay,” I nodded again. “Are you okay?”

She let out a laugh, not a sarcastic or angry one, but one that let me know the question was ironic. “Well, yeah. But, it’s been kind of wild back here. I just--uh--wanted to let you know that me and Harry broke up.”

“What?” I asked this with more force than I intended. “Wait--when?”

“Yesterday--he was a mess after you left and everything was really stressful, and--”

“He was a mess after I left?”

“Well, he was angry. I mean he’s pretty mad at you and he feels betrayed and--”

“Okay,” I held up a hand even though she couldn’t see me. I didn’t need the details.

“Well you asked.”

“I know--I just, I thought things were going well with you two.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah, they were. I mean, we were fine, but, I think he’s always going to like you.”

I felt my own eyes go wide, head tilted to the side in the glow of the Palm Beach moon. “Me?”

I didn’t know the right response. Act surprised? Act disgusted? The news was already putting my system into overdrive, the flutter in my heart at her most recent confession made me dizzy.

“Yes, you, Cat--don’t act like it’s such a shock,” she laughed at this like it was silly. “He told me that it wasn’t just once.”

I blew air out between my lips, trying to slow my pulse. “It wasn’t when you were together--he didn’t cheat on you, I promise.”

“I know,” she said. “I told him to call me if he ever gets over you,” she laughed, her voice was sweet and sincere through the phone. “So maybe I’ll hear from him one day, but probably not.”

“Lila,” I breathed out her name and for once, I was at a loss for words. Did I apologize? Did I make some excuse about the tension--whether or not she seemed mad?

“It’s alright, Cat,” she laughed. “Maybe the point of Harry being in my life was so we would find each other. Maybe we’re friend soulmates,” I could hear her smile through the phone, likely from the knowledge that her words would pull an eye roll from me.

But instead I felt my lips turn upward--just a little--when a boat motored by and the leaves of the palm trees danced in the wind.

Out of all of them, Lila was the one to reach out first. Something about it felt ironic and annoying and somehow still completely serendipitous.

And for weeks there were people staked outside the front gate. July slowly bled into August and I prayed that the media coverage would fade with summer. My mom seemed to bask in the glow of flashing cameras and my dad had slowly resigned to the fact that his drives to and from the office were now bookended by questions about what I was doing and if the band was breaking up.

But none of use knew the answer until three weeks in, when my phone rang one night and Niall’s voice was short on the other end.

“D’ya have a minute?”

“Yeah,” I nodded quickly, sat down on my bed and folded my legs beneath me. I didn’t mean to sound eager, but I’d been hoping for an update on their decision: move forward or disband. I’d yet to hear from him at all and was hoping he’d cooled off since I’d last seen him. “What’s up?”

“Well, we, uh--we’ve been meetin’. We talked to Ian, talked to Ron and some label people. We’re not sure we’re going to stay together.”

“You’re not sure?” I repeated his words for clarity. The decision didn’t sound like something that could be left in the gray area.

“We’re not. We’re not going forward.”

Silence for a second. “Oh,” I said. “Are you--how do you feel about that?”

“Weird, honestly. Mad, upset, confused.”

“Yeah.”

“I just don’t get it, Cat--I don’t get how things were going so well and yet everything between us got worse and worse.”

“It’s my fault,” I said the words quietly, more calmness laced between them with some salty air and sunshine now a part of my daily routine. “I should have been more honest with you.”

Another pause, and for a second I wasn’t sure if he’d hung up, angry and let down my by half-assed apology.

“I just wish you hadn’t let Harry get under your skin so much.”

It was a blow I hadn’t expected, I pulled at a thread on my duvet. “It wasn’t just about Harry, Niall,” I tried to not sound angry, looked up at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. My wet hair was up in a towel, fresh out of the shower and fresh out of patience to talk about Harry.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your brother?”

I stared at the wall, unsure of how to answer his question. On the other side of the sheetrock was the bathroom I’d spent so many nights in. Feet on the cool tile, silently sobbing about the nightmares or wishing it was me and not him.

If he wanted the truth, I would give it to him.

“It was my first chance to not be the girl with the dead brother,” I said harshly. “My parents are shitty people, Niall--and when my brother died,” I paused. The thought had been circling in my brain for so long, but putting it into words for the first time made it hurt more. “To them I just became a reminder of him. And my friends from high school and the people in town--I was just one of two, part of a whole.”

“But you told Jules and not me?”

I grew more impatient. “I was drunk, Niall, and I opened my mouth because Harry was being an asshole.”

“Harry? I thought she found out years ago.”

“Yeah--right after I met Harry.”

“Freshman year?”

I rolled my eyes at all of his questions. “Yes--he was being a dick because he was calling me Catherine when we first met and I hate that name because my mother and my brother are literally the only two people on the planet who call me that.”

Another pause. “Oh,” he said, almost like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. “But you didn’t tell him why you didn’t like that name because you didn’t want to bring up your brother.”

It wasn’t a question, he said the words with conviction, informing himself of the rock and hard place I had been stuck between.

“Telling people within the first two weeks of meeting them that you have a dead twin brother is kind of a vibe killer.”

He let out an awkward laugh, my shoulders felt less tense and I took a leap of faith. “I guess I have PTSD from his death, I mean, I was there. I’ve been googling the symptoms and reading stuff online. I think that’s why I drank so much. Harry constantly calling me that name made all of the memories worse and feel so much closer.”

Quiet again, then he sighed. “I just wish you’d been honest with me.”

I blinked a few times, disappointed that he’d brought it back to the dishonesty and the perceived betrayal when I’d just blurted it all out. I wasn’t left with much in Florida--plenty of time and space to think about the things that had gone wrong and the way I’d reacted. After a few weeks of piecing it together and accepting that maybe there was something wrong with me, maybe I did have a problem--Niall’s lack of response or acknowledgement felt like salt in the wound.

“I know.”

“I just think I need some space, Cat.”

My heart sunk--not that I didn’t know leaving the band would result in this. I was ready for the awkward phone calls and the fumbling to figure out what we were now: friends? Bandmates? Former roommates?

I just hadn’t considered that we’d be nothing, potentially, if he was too hurt.

But after talking to him that night, I wasn’t shocked when Jules wouldn’t answer my calls. At first she’d text back and say she was busy, running an errand or reading Tarot. But after a few weeks of no contact outside of my parents and Marta, reading news articles in my bedroom about the break up and the next steps and the rumors of why it all happened, I called Leah.

“I need to move out,” I told her. “I need to be somewhere other than Florida and other than New York.”

“Okay,” she said, I could hear typing on the other end. “Los Angeles sounds like an option, then.”

“Do you think that’s weird, though? For me to suddenly buy a house in LA?”

“I mean--Ian called me the other day. Said a lot of writing requests have still been coming in since people don’t really know why you left. Los Angeles would be a good place to do that.”

“I’ll write,” I nodded, something in my gut pulled me towards it. “Who’s been asking?”

“A bunch of people, apparently. Ian said there have been more requests since the split. I guess people figure you’re still doing that--I don’t know.”

I paused for a second, thought about what would happen if word got out to Niall or Jules that I was writing for other people. Would they be angry? Would they care?

It felt unfair for me to have to factor them into a decision when they wouldn’t answer my calls. For so long they’d been the people I could count on, no matter how much I fucked up or how bad things got.

But now I didn’t have Niall, I didn’t have Jules, I didn’t have Eddie or Miles. I didn’t have Ian and I didn’t have Harry. I didn’t have a record label and I didn’t have shows to put on. I’d lost almost everything.

And after all of the uncertainty in my life, the only constant was music. I figured I deserved to keep that.

Summer 2019

The knocking sent my heart to my throat, one that I’d been waiting for all morning. The California sun was warm through the windows, and when I opened the door, Jules’s hair was blonder than I remembered and Niall’s was darker.

“Hi,” Jules said, her lips curved up in a small smile. Niall nodded in greeting, I stepped aside, hoping that I didn’t look or sound as stupid as I felt.

“Come in--I can make tea, or coffee or something.”

They stepped inside, took a look around the foyer. Jules hit Niall in the stomach when he didn’t reply, he grunted in response. “Yeah, tea--that’d be lovely.”

I rolled my eyes at his nervousness, let my mouth quirk into a smirk. “We don’t have to act like strangers, you know.”

They both nodded, awkward smiles in return when we stood, frozen in place.

“Does it really feel that way?”

Jules relented first after a tiny giggle. “No--we’re not strangers. We just--it’s been a while.”

Nine months, to be exact. Texts and phone calls and even emails in between, fall turned into winter and by the time Christmas came, I lived on a tree lined street with other celebrities who could afford this level of privacy.

I led them into the kitchen and sighed, put the teapot on the stove. “Well, I kind of had some shit to get together.”

When I turned around and let my hands rest on the counter, Niall took a breath before he spoke. “Glad we’re here, you know, just--I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.”

We hadn’t. First we just sent funny videos, memes back and forth and eventually I got added to a group message with both of them in it. Eddie and I would facetime every once in a while, Miles and I would check in every few weeks and I’d send him some songs I was working on.

I nodded, I hadn’t talked much about it with anyone--except for Lila. She visited for the New Year and brought me sparkling cider, it’s without the alcohol, but with all of the bubbles and fun.

“You were too angry to hear me out,” I shrugged my shoulders. True, but also probably not what he wanted to hear.

“Can you blame me, Cat? We worked so hard for that band and that success and it felt like you were throwing it away.”

Jules tensed at his volume, looked at me for a reply.

I nodded, remembered what Lila had advised. Hear them out, validate that they were hurt.

“I know--I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

This apparently caught Niall off guard--maybe he’d expected me to fight him on it, defend myself or my actions and make it seem like it was his fault.

But it wasn’t. The drinking was my fault. The running from my emotions was my fault. None of them made me behave the way I did.

“I get that you had stuff to figure out with your family, but why didn’t you want to try to work it out with us?”

I sighed, Jules pulled out a stool and sat, her eyes on me as she waited for an answer. I knew the question was coming. I knew they’d want to know and I knew that they probably still felt confused and unsure about what had transpired almost a year ago. I had finally given Niall more information about Cameron, but I’d left out the pieces back then that I hadn’t yet found.

The band had been pulling me down, whether or not I wanted to admit it. Staying in the band meant sacrificing my sanity, and when the moment came to choose one or the other, I had to choose myself.

Fonder couldn’t exist if I wanted to be okay--and if I wanted to be okay then Fonder had to come to an end. I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too.

I shook my head, I didn’t know where to start. “I don’t think I would have been able to do it with all of you guys right there.”

“All of us?” Jules offered a knowing smirk.

I bit at my lip and then admitted: “Harry.”

Jules nodded, Niall dropped my gaze.

Back in the spring Jules finally called me, the flowers had started to bloom and news of my signing with a new publishing company had started to break. I told her I was sorry for how it all played out and she told me that Miles was doing session stuff at New Trick. Eddie was working with other artists and she hadn’t heard from Harry.

So now, May in my Los Angeles kitchen, almost a year after I left them on the road and almost a year since I’d seen or heard from Harry, his name echoed against the granite counter top when Niall met my gaze again.

“He’s been asking about ya.”

I counted to three, play it cool. “You’ve talked to him?”

He kept my gaze, sat beside Jules and I wondered if this was a test. They’d planted the seed about visiting me in February, they opted to stay at a hotel and Niall told us he’d been in the studio working on a solo project. I think he expected me to be mad, but I was just proud.

“He might lay some bass tracks for the stuff I’ve been doing.”

I nodded. “I didn’t know if he was still playing or what he was up to.”

“Did some stuff with Vince, actually, did some session stuff with them for a while, continues to be a heartthrob, the usual.” He cracked a smile at that, Jules rolled her eyes when the tea kettle whistled.

“Actually, Cat, there was something we wanted to talk to you about.”

I poured the water into three cups, kept my back to them when I replied casually: “what’s up?”

I had no clue what it was. No idea what they wanted to discuss and no idea if they were using this visit as an opportunity to corner me.

“My birthday’s soon and I wanted to have a party in New York. We wanted you to come.”

It felt too soon for a reunion. Didn’t this type of thing come years later? When one of us was married or when someone had a baby? I turned around and pushed the cups towards them, offered a few options for tea before I replied. “With, like, everyone?”

Niall pulled a bag out of it’s sleeve and dunked it into the steaming water. “With Harry, is what she’s asking.”

“I know what she’s asking,” Jules retorted before she turned back to me. “And yes--he’ll be there.”

“Is this some kind of intervention?” I joked. “Cause I’ve already been sober for almost a year.”

“No,” Jules shook her head. “But we’re extremely proud of your sobriety. I know things got fucked up, but I want us all to be okay, even if Fonder is over.” She looked over to Niall, waiting for him to add on.

“S’also our first party we’re hosting together,” he leaned over to pat her on the knee, his tone casual when he dropped a metaphorical bomb. “As a couple.”

I had to choke down the tea that I’d just sipped, I set the cup down and blinked a few times. “You guys are dating?!”

“We spent a lot of time together when the band split up,” Jules said, a wriggle of her eyebrows in my direction. “Turns out I’m not that annoying after all.”

Niall rolled his eyes, turned back to see me. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” I smiled. “It’s amazing, I’m really happy for you guys.”

“You are?” Jules asked, her voice smaller now.

“Of course,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Niall shrugged his shoulders, his eyes met mine when he spoke. “Well, I wasn’t exactly the most on board for you and Harry gettin’ together.”

“That was different,” I waved a hand, “and stupid.”

“Was it, though?” Jules’ question was pointed, apparently she still wanted us to be together as much as she had back then.

“Yes, Jules--it was different. It was us being dumb and horny.”

“I think you should come to her birthday party, chat with him.”

I watched Niall for a second. “And why is that?”

Another shrug. “I think it’d be good for you two to reconnect.”

“I’ll come,” I said, “I’m not against coming.”

“But you’re against reconnecting with Harry?” Another prod from Jules.

“I don’t know,” I let out a groan. “It’s been so long! I don’t even know what he’s been doing or who he’s been seeing or--.”

“No one,” Niall said. “He’s seeing no one.”

“Well, whatever,” I ignored him. “Whether or not he’s seeing someone I’ll still come.”

“Right,” Niall smirked, “but him being single is probably a good pull, right?”

“Don’t make this a thing,” I warned, another sip of tea through the smirk that took up residency on my face.

“Every single thing between the two of you has been a thing,” Jules said. “Maybe your souls have met before.”

“Enough with the reincarnation stuff, will you?” Niall looked over to her like she was crazy. I mean, maybe she was, but the look in his eyes was different now: less judgmental, more loving.

She waved him off, her focus back to me when she sighed. “You don’t have more questions about him?” She rested her elbows on the counter, offered a look that told me she didn’t believe my nonchalance.

“None,” I said.

“You don’t even want to know what he’s been asking about ya?”

I let my tongue slide against my teeth, a willful attempt to not take the bait.

“He knows we’re here,” Jules said--again, a casual admission and a curiosity on her end about how I’d react.

“Are you going to call him up and give him a full report as soon as you leave?” I eyed Niall playfully, giggled when he rolled his eyes.

“Probably,” he teased. “Tell him that you seem happier than I’ve ever seen ya.”

“Make sure to allude to the fact that it’s cause he’s finally not in my life,” I cracked.

“Just as mean as ever, though,” he laughed.

I smiled at them, a sense of relief to learn that peace could come after change, after heartbreak, and after hurt. But it was mostly nice to know that even if everything else had changed, Niall’s ability to poke fun at me and Jules’ affinity for cosmic conspiracy theories had remained exactly the same.

So I flew to New York a few weeks later, my hair shorter than the last time I’d been there and the sky a brighter blue. My apartment had been empty for a year--dust had gathered on the counters and the artwork I’d left on the walls felt out of place now.

I’d been in and out a few times, once for a meeting with my lawyer, another time when I flew in to write with Adam Levine. When I pushed the door open and tugged my suitcase inside, the emptiness felt all consuming.

It felt like I was sneaking into someone else’s house--pulling back the curtains in someone else’s bedroom and slipping into the shoes of someone I would never be.

Being back felt weird--different than I expected and somehow more nerve wracking than facing my mother or facing the truth: I was different.

The worst part about it was that the piano faced the same window and the same chairs sat on top of the same carpet. It had been frozen in time, a sad and stark reminder of what used to be.

But I didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity, though--soon enough whisked off to meet up with Jules and Nialls. I was excited to see Miles and Eddie despite feeling like an absolute idiot. Did they blame it all on me? Did any of them recognize how toxic Harry and I had been?

My nerves were palpable, leaving beads of sweat on my forehead when I walked behind Jules and Niall and the security detail that would spend the night by our sides.

A whole year of sobriety, not one drop in 362 days--and tonight was my first time in a bar.

Jules had offered something else: a restaurant, their new apartment, anywhere but a place that’s sole purpose was to get you drunk. But I declined. The Bitter End was the only place that this reunion could happen, and instead of using tequila to calm the thumping in my chest, I was left with breathing techniques I’d learned from a mediation app and my 1-year coin from AA in my pocket.

I had no idea if he’d even show up. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t nauseous all day when they were texting in a group, just like we used to before things exploded. Before I exploded.

So I decided that Harry’s presence tonight wouldn’t make or break me. His presence at all throughout my time in New York wouldn’t break me.

I didn’t want to be the bomb that someone needed to diffuse. I kept watch of the door and acted as if I wasn’t checking my phone for an update, simultaneously hoping he’d show up and hoping that I’d never have to face him.

But when the clock ticked closer to closing time and I stifled another yawn--apparently being sober in bars past midnight just made you exhausted--a feeling of disappointment was left circling in my chest. Maybe he didn’t want to see me. Maybe he just couldn’t do it.

Around 1am I climbed into the back of the car behind Jules, settled into my seat when she drunkenly giggled into Niall’s shoulder. I stared down at my phone screen and opened the group message from Harry.

I’ll try to swing by.

It was the feeling that had hovered inside of me for a long time, knotted in my ribs and tangled in my lungs. The feeling that used to have me reaching for a bottle: Not good enough.

But I noticed it, I knew it now. This was the moment I would have gone home and popped the champagne to let myself fall asleep without the echoing in my head: not good enough, not good enough, not good enough.

It felt good to know I was on the other side, more insight, more awareness and friends from AA to text if it really got dark again. But I looked to the middle seats in front of me, Nialls and Jules laughed between themselves, the streets of Lower Manhattan passed by the tinted windows and somewhere back home my mom was pouring another glass and my dad was ignoring her.

And yet I was okay. Something about time away from the band and time away from alcohol had taught me how to swim, no longer dragged beneath the surface by the uncomfortable emotions that tried to drown me for so long. I could fall asleep without the TV on and I wondered that night where he was, but I stayed afloat.

I hyped myself up the next day to show up to Jules’ party an hour early. I tucked flowers in a vase and rolled my eyes when Niall blasted songs from our first EP over the speakers, can’t believe we thought this shit was good, we sound so young! Jules obsessed over which shade of lipstick she should wear and I just tried to keep my hands busy.

Maybe he wouldn’t show up here, either.

But people spilled in and their roof deck was the perfect spot for a summer birthday party. By dinnertime I pretended that I didn’t hate small talk and made nice with people I hadn’t seen in years. Nice to see you, I’ve been good, yeah still writing. This wasn’t about me--this was for Jules.

He slipped in at some point, blended in with the crowd until I did another scan. My eyes caught his figure, a loosely buttoned shirt and a bracelet around his wrist that glistened in the sun when I stood frozen in place.

Sunglasses shielded his eyes and his hair was longer than before--he moved with ease, after all, he hadn’t disappeared and cost people their jobs.

Ian laughed by my side as if this wasn’t a monumental moment, he joked with Miles and Vince about something unrelated when I blinked a few times, looked around to see if anyone else had noticed his arrival. Okay, the sudden change in the atmosphere was apparently only noticeable to me.

I looked down at the red solo cup in my hand: cranberry juice, seltzer, a splash of lime. I excused myself quickly and weaved through the other people until I could slide the door to the master bedroom shut. The music was muffled on the other side of the wall, laughter from the party bounced against the door and now, I could breathe. In, out, inhale, exhale.

I walked over to the living room, met face to face with the bottles of liquor on the counter. It pulled me in, their labels and fancy names made my cheeks tingle. But instead of walking over and uncapping the tequila like I may have wanted to, I turned left down the hall, found myself in a room where they kept all their instruments.

A piano in the corner, one Niall saved up for our sophomore year after his birthday. I went and looked at the words scribbled on note paper beside it, an old glass of water--did Jules bicker with him like a true girlfriend about leaving his dishes out?

Beside it was a guitar, the one I’d gifted him after we signed the record label, the year we moved out of our first apartment. I plucked a few strings, a melody coming out when I let my fingers fumble through a progression.

Maybe this is how I’d been doing it. The desire to drink was usually quelled with a song, the outpouring of whatever emotion I wanted to run from--just like I’d hurried inside to avoid Harry.

He had the same hold over my heart whether I was drunk or sober, busy or bored. I’d been avoiding the vulnerability that he brought out of me, like the time he let me cut his hair and giggle in his sheets. I didn’t know what it was about him, something I felt I’d never fully capture in a song or in a sentence out loud.

There are things that I sing

that I'd never have the confidence to say

There are things I believe

that I only figure out when I sit down to play

The door creaked, a figure on the other side of the room when I looked up and stopped singing.

“Hi,” he said, his lips in a thin line like he didn’t know if he should smile or frown.

I put the guitar back in its stand and stood up. “Hi--sorry, I was just messing around.”

“Sounded good,” he nodded, a cup in his hand that he sipped from when he broke our gaze. “You can keep going, if you want. What’s it about?”

He took a few steps closer to me, set the solo cup on the piano and then picked up the guitar. He pulled the strap over his shoulder and tuned it a bit, looked up at me when I didn’t reply.

“Just a song,” I shrugged, unsure if the smirk on his face meant anything or if I was just reading too far into the dimple in his cheek.

He plucked what I was playing, easily able to recreate the song when he sat on a stool.

Nervousness in my words when they floated between us. “Shouldn’t we be outside?”

“S’been a minute since we wrote something together,” he shrugged. “Don’t think anyone will mind. Sing it again?”

I sat down, smoothed out the skirt of my dress and cleared my throat. I ran through the verse again, suddenly self conscious to be this real in front of him. This time I went on, eyes closed when it felt like the song had always existed.

The truth don't scare me in a melody,

immortalizing my sincerity

There are things that I sing that

I'd never have the confidence to say

Like that song about my parents that I'll never show 'em

I paused, laughed a little when I didn’t know where to take it. He hummed for a second, knew we were almost at the hook. He filled in the rest like it was easy.

And the ones about my exes that they don't deserve

But when it comes to you, I'm still trying to find the words

“Hey,” Jules’ voice was at the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, yeah,” I stood up, Harry let out a laugh at my quick reaction. “Sorry--we were just--”

“Messing around,” he stole my words from earlier, looked up at me when he set the guitar back down.

“I was just coming out,” I said, walking over to Jules.

“Me too,” Harry followed behind me quickly.

“You guys can stay,” she laughed, “you don’t have to come out.”

“S’fine,” Harry said, my words muffled between: “we were done.”

Jules rolled her eyes but headed back for the living room. “Glad you two are reacquainted,” she smiled over her shoulder.

I ignored her comment, Harry got pulled off by an old classmate and I fell into conversation with Eddie when he introduced me to the girl he’d started dating. I pinched his cheek and felt like a proud parent to learn he’d moved on from his crush on me--a true marker that time could heal all.

I ignored the melody that burned in my head, stole glances at Harry and tried to make sense of the encounter we had shared. If nothing else came from tonight, at least I had the start of a new song.

I caught Ian up on the writing I’d done with other artists--he’d been in the loop and even given me a recommendation for a new manager when I moved to LA. But when the sun started to set and people started to get drunker than they’d been, I found myself sitting off to the side, tracing the pink skyline of the city that still felt like home.

Niall kissed Jules on the cheek when she welcomed late arrivals--commotion on the other end of the roof deck--it felt reassuring to know that everyone’s world kept spinning without me at the center.

“We’ll have to finish that one, eventually,” Harry sat down next to me, folded his arms across his chest when he smiled. “Might already have half the hook written up here,” he pointed to his temple.

I shifted down on the patio furniture, careful to keep enough room between us.

“Pretty sure that’s my song,” I eyed him. “And now you’re writing it for me?”

He pushed his lips out in thought. “Could be ours, if you wanted.”

I rolled my eyes, tilted my head to the side. “Still just as annoying as I remembered.”

He smiled at that, quiet for a second when he held my gaze. “S’good to see you.”

I didn’t know how to reply, so I nodded my head. “Ditto.”

“Sorry I couldn’t make it last night, I was working and ended up staying late at the studio.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, looked at the glass in his hand. Clear--ice cubes that swirled around in the summer heat. “Is that vodka?” I changed the topic. “I thought you were a beer guy.”

“It’s water,” he shrugged. “Figured you shouldn’t be the only sober one here tonight.”

I bit at my lip, nodded at the sweet gesture but felt like words were stuck in my throat. “I didn’t know you knew.”

He let out a short laugh, “Jules isn’t great at keeping secrets.”

I shook my head, pretended to be annoyed when I teased: “never had any privacy in that band.”

“Yeah, well--we fucked a lot of things up.”

“We?” I eyed him suspiciously for a moment, certain he meant me.

“I’m the one who couldn’t figure out how to not be a dick to you, so--yeah, we.”

“I think me being a liar and drunk all the time takes the cake, but I appreciate you saying that.”

“I didn’t say you don’t take the cake,” he laughed, knocking his knee against mine. “But I should have done a lot differently.”

I twisted a ring around my finger, pulled for more information. “Like?”

He smirked, rolled his eyes at my nosiness but then let out a sigh. “Fought with you less, called you out on your drinking sooner, not dated Lila,” he trailed off like maybe there was more, but I cut him off.

“I don’t regret you dating Lila.”

“So I’ve heard,” he smiled. “So typical of you to steal my girlfriend.”

“You broke up with her!” I laughed. “We bonded over both going through big break ups. You dumped her, I broke up the band--it was a very healing experience for us to have each other. She’s a good friend, she always will be.”

He laughed, looked out at the sky and shrugged. “Yeah, she just wasn’t for me, I knew it all along,” he teased.

I pulled my head back. “Wait--if you knew that then why did you make me be so fucking nice to her?”

“I needed her to stick around,” he said this with a smirk, a dimple appeared in his cheek when he dropped my gaze and then looked down at his hands.

“Spill it,” I said, angling myself towards him. “You’re not telling me something.”

He let out a sigh, looked over at me and then rubbed at his eyes, almost like he was embarrassed. “I needed her to stick around because I wanted to make you jealous.”

“Make me jealous?! Of her? And being with you?”

He fought off a smile for a second, but when I let out a belly laugh and leaned back, he cracked. “It was stupid--we were in a constant push and pull back then and I didn’t know how to admit it to you that I was hurt when we broke--when we stopped sleeping together.”

I bit at the inside of my cheek, let his words float in the evening air high above the East Village. But then I nodded, voice small when I said: “yeah, it sucked. I’m sorry I made you keep my secret.”

He looked at me, almost surprised by my words, but then he let out a breath. “I’m sorry I held it over your head for so long. And tried to make you jealous.”

I watched a blinking light in the sky, a plane landing at LaGuardia or a star fizzling out. “I guess I deserved it.”

His eyebrows arched at that, a silent request for more information when I shrugged.

“I was basically always buzzed and lying to the most important people in my life. A hot mess would be an understatement.”

He bit back a laugh, nodded quietly. “I get it, though.”

My heart did a somersault, an uncomfortable feeling that lingered when the sky became a hazier orange. “You do?”

He nodded again, more confident this time, like he knew exactly how I felt without the slightest of explanation. “Grief does crazy shit to people. And I don’t think you ever got to heal yours.”

I clenched my jaw inadvertently, his words were true but plucked at something in me so deep and real that I didn’t have the words to reply. Luckily, he knew that.

“We were both different people back then, I think.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “And a lot has changed.”

“Can I admit something?”

“Shoot.”

“My feelings haven’t.”

I looked over at him quickly, Jules’ words perched overhead like mistletoe. Twin flames--a soul connection that typically made me gag. This time, my heartbeat slowed and the anxiety I’d had about running into him seemed to dissipate, I nodded. I knew they hadn’t, I knew mine hadn’t, either. His words weren’t shocking, and when the last three years played over in my head, I wondered what would have happened if someone else had joined the band.

I smiled, an unstable attempt at honesty and vulnerability. “I just wish we could have a fresh start, you know?”

He laughed at this, angled himself towards me when he smiled. “Nice to meet you, I’m Harry. What’s your name?”

I eyed him for a second, trying to decide if I thought his ploy to start fresh was stupid or romantic. I let my hand reach forward to shake his. “Cat,” I nodded, lips twisted into a smile before I could even meet his gaze. “Call me Cat.”

He tugged me closer to him, paused for a second before he let our lips meet. “Cat it is. But I think we have a song to finish.”

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fallingoverharrypotter · 3 years

Text

If We Make It Through January 7th

Draco and Harry on the wrong side of the holiday season, making the gloom a little bit brighter. Also on AO3 here.

I’m barely through the front door of the place before I catch a glimpse of the man behind the counter and freeze up. Right there in the doorway.

A frustrated cough comes from behind me, and I hear a rude “excuse me.”

I swear. “Sorry,” I move out of their way, back onto the icy cobblestones: the patron flicks me an insincere smile as they hurry into the warmth of the bakery, and the door shuts in my face with a clang. The noise of the store, regular café sounds and music with it. That’s unfortunate, as Diagon still has Christmas jingles incessantly twinkling across the cold brick back and forth down the alley on this side of the new year, and that’s… only one part of the reason I want to enter.

Surely there are other places on Diagon that sell hot drinks and buns this late on a Wednesday. But… I know there aren’t. Even in muggle London.

Going home empty handed on Monday was one thing, but going home empty handed on Wednesday seems out of the question.

The cheerful drawings of smiling faces and steaming pastries on the glass are mocking me - there’s raucous noise of laughter just from the other side of the windows. I’m drawn up close and shivering in my winter robe, and it’s so cold that the warming charms keep wearing off. There are the sludgy remnants of snow on the cobbles, and I had to save myself from a couple of falls on the way down here. The blush on my cheeks is definitely from the embarrassment of the wobbles, but thankfully it’ll be passed off as the bite of the air. He probably won’t realise a difference anyway.

I take a deep breath, and go to reach for the door again, but then my hand stops, barely within my control. I close my eyes and try once more. Breathe deep, hand out to grasp the handle. I pretend not to think about whether any patrons of the bakery are staring at me through the glass. I hypothesise that if this takes me longer than five minutes, I’ll get an Auror called on me for drunk and disorderly, and wouldn’t that truly make my day.

Suddenly, it’s too much. I don’t even want to see his face. Wednesday pastries will just have to go without. It’s a silly tradition anyway. Surely if I’m ever allowed to forgo a habit, it would be as a new year’s resolution. It was his neurotic practice anyway. Probably one of those things I should toss out like I did all the rest of his stuff.

I take another deep breath and point my chin up, stare challengingly at one stupid smiling figure on the glass, and turn to make my way down to the other apparition point at the end of Diagon.

Stupid ex-boyfriends and stupid bleeding-heart holiday seasons. I manage to keep my feet reasonably stable as I walk down the almost icy path on this darker end of the street.

Unfortunately for me, however, a loud noise startles me and I completely wipe out.

A loud grunt expels itself from my chest as my back hits the ground. Thankfully my neck and head seem to be pretty well protected by the thick green scarf I’ve got wrapping me up, but my ass doesn’t fair all that well. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, and groan as I roll over onto my side. I wince when a sharp twinge in my back is set off with my movement.

Thankfully I’m not alone in my predicament, because the noise that startled me was an initial slick sharp sound of a slip against the icy cobbles. I tilt my head up and see heavy black boots, worn just slightly at the sole, and the figure of their owner, a man in amongst a mountain of sludgy snow that someone had just moved to the side instead of vanishing. I mutter to myself about the absolute travesty which is Diagon without proper foot traffic. People here get bloody careless this time of year.

I push myself up by my gloved hands, now soaked, along with the backside of my cloak. “Are you alright?” I half-heartedly direct to the man who I can hear angrily muttering to himself in his current position. I have to pay direct attention to getting my feet under me so that I don’t make another trip, but I do finally stabilise myself. I sigh crossly. My penance for getting so startled is that I don’t immediately get to grab my wand and dry myself off.

The man sighs too. His reply is muffled, but I think I can make out a “yep”. Charming.

He’s not moving though, so I huff out a breath impatiently and wander over to where he lies carelessly under an awning, face shadowed from Diagon’s twinkling lights. Good King Wenceslas chimes out of the charms on the street, and seems to mock me, and I have to force myself to think of how best to rectify this. I hope this guy isn’t drunk. Or maybe I hope he is, so that I can just call the aurors to deal with this.

“Are you pissed?” I ask, just to know.

“I wish.” Is his muffled reply. “Would be a bit less embarrassing if I were, I think.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you get up?”

“Yep.” He repeats, and then groans again as he pulls himself out of the soaking wet, dirty grey cushion, that is the snow bank.

My mouth drops open. “Potter?”

And, yep indeed. It’s Potter. He’s leaning back on gloved hands when he looks up at me quickly and then he groans. Throws his wet haired head back, and those green eyes look up at the awning like he’s berating whatever trickster god pulls his strings of fate. Or, so I assume.

He leans his weight on a single hand and stretches out the other in my direction.

For a second, I think he’s extended it so we can shake hands, before I realise that he just wants a hand up. I flush and hasten – carefully – over. A quick pull from my hand and he does the rest of the work, but he has to grab at my shoulders when he’s upright, a little wobbly.

He looks at me and grimaces. “I’m a danger to myself and others.” His hands release my shoulders, but only, it seems, to brush off bits of snow and dirt off of my coat.

I huff, my breath making a cloud of vapour in the space between us. “Well, I won’t disagree with you on that. Do you need me to go and get someone for you, or can you make your merry way to your reserved bed at Mungos?”

He laughs just a little. “It’s always a pleasure, Draco, honestly.” He’s joking, so I reserve the right to kick him until later. Maybe when he’s a bit less pathetic from the slip. “Are you okay?”

I scowl, and don’t answer his question. “It’s bloody 6pm on a Wednesday. In the middle of winter. After a snow storm. Who’s honestly buying wands this time of year?”

He smiles, winks slightly. “Gotta be made, don’t they?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, I get it. You’re chained to your desk. A snowstorm fit for the arctic circle could blaze through here and you couldn’t be moved.”

He laughs. Harry laughs the same way he’s always laughed, and I blush just a little bit, as I’ve always done. I feel a shiver start to come upon me, but I keep it away by share force of will as he continues. “The new year is good for the thestral tail hair.” A dirty glove subconsciously comes up to rub at his wet hair, and he grimaces when he feels it. “Decay, new life, you know. The Death-horses and Winter going hand in hand.”

I smirk as he tentatively tries to rub his dirty glove off against a cleaner part of his cloak. “Cruel of them. Not taking the time to consider your plight.”

“Well,” he challenges, “I doubt it’s a major concern. It’s actually not every day that I slip and fall on the pavement. I survive my walks, mostly.”

“Well,” I answer, “I never slip or fall.” I raise a haughty eyebrow at him, and I can see the humour dust his eyes a little bit more. “Don’t go blaming me for this.”

He rolls his eyes and grimaces. “Why are we still so wet.” He flicks his hand and a wave of annoyingly familiar magic crests itself over my figure until the dirt and the moisture are driven right away. I flick a warming charm over him in thanks.

He seems to pay a bit more attention to his surroundings now that he’s dry and warm. “You just come from Finch-Fletchley’s? You mind reminding him that if the other shops are closed down for the holidays that it’s his job to vanish the snow after a blanketing?”

I avert my eyes, drawn to the bright lights of the bakery. I scowl. “You can tell him yourself, thank you very much.” I take a deep breath, and straighten my back. Keeping some decorum, hopefully. “We’ve broken up.”

Potter’s eyebrows are up when I glance quickly back to his face. He looks at me, and his face is very controlled. He looks at the bakery. “When?”

I swallow. “Week before Christmas, if you can believe.”

He can’t seem to stop himself from whistling sympathetically. Then he winces. “Sorry.”

I shrug, casually. “No matter.”

He snorts.

“I’m serious” I say, pointlessly.

He crosses his arms and looks hard at me. “Oh yeah? What are you doing here, then? Surely not too many muggleborns turning 11 around this time of year.”

Not to back down, and turn to face him properly and cross my own arms. “You know full well that’s not all I do, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Like my point doesn’t still stand. What? You doing a lot of muggleborn house calls the week after new year’s?”

“Not every muggleborn celebrates Christmas and New Year’s.”

“Sure, technically. In reality, though?”

I turn away, and don’t answer his questions. He snorts, but then steps a little closer. We’re facing the bakery, because of course we are. O’ Holy Night plays above us. I wonder who chooses these songs.

I hear him take a deep breath in and out. “I really am sorry.”

I sigh, too. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It’s only been two weeks, Draco.”

Two weeks and 5 days. If we’re counting. I don’t say this though.

He bumps my shoulder. “Not to pick at the wound, but what areyou really doing here.”

I consider lying to him again, but we’re not really in the business of doing that. It’d just be a bore. And he’s always been… good about things like this. “Christmas.” I swallow. “It gets lonely, you know.”

He hums.

I kick out at the ground with my foot and it slides a little bit too far, and I end up having to take a step forward to balance myself again – Potter grabs at my arm.

He laughs, a little anxiously. “Never slip and fall, huh?”

I ignore that, my face flushed and hot. “We had a tradition. Wednesday pastries at the bakery. I would assume it’s common decency to let someone know in advance if you’re going to break up with them. So that one can plan for these moments, right?” I close my eyes against the lights of Justin’s bakery, feeling unwelcome. “I apologise. I’m morose. It’s not exactly the post-holiday cheer I’m sure you want on a nice evening.”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t call this a nice evening.” My warming charm wears off, and he flicks his wrist for another one to settle over us. He lets go of my upper arm, and puts a hand on my shoulder – drags me around a bit to face him. “Fuck him, right?”

I roll my eyes. “He’s not a bad guy, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes right back, and then looks quite serious. “Be a little indulgent with yourself sometimes, Draco.”

I look back at him. He’s only just shorter than me, and I’ve always cherished that fact, but now he almost seems to be towering over me, even with a bit of a slouch to his stand. His messy hair and his shadowed cheeks and under-eyes the likes of which I only really see during the summer break when I’m chaperoning muggle families and their muggleborn children to get their first wands before September. Working too hard. Chained to his desk.

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” I blurt out.

His eyes widen. So do mine. The heat in my face expands to a blaze, and I groan as I drop it into my cold gloves. “Merlin, I’m sorry. You just said the indulgent thing, and I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” He grabs at my wrists lightly and tugs a bit, but I don’t budge. “Draco.”

A clang mutely sounds from just up the street, the usual echo of the door in the cobbled street trapped by the snow. “Draco?” I hear, and look up. Startle, because that’s definitely Justin at the door, surrounded in the glow of the lighting. I take a step back almost without thought, and Harry’s grip on my wrist unfortunately makes me lose my balance. I go right down, and he follows. Right on top of me.

I groan loudly, my head and back and arse all once again wet and cold. Harry groans too, and his warm weight gets off me very quickly, tugging me up by my hands, and then a hand tight on my waist to right me. I don’t step out of his grip immediately, too overcome with the situation. Ready to take another crack at the cobbles and see if this time I brain myself.

“Hell, Draco,” Harry mutters, and then grabs his wand to get the wet and the dirt off the both of us again. Another of his beautiful warming charms settles over my body. “We’re even now, okay? No more falls, for god’s sake.”

Justin has wandered a bit closer by the time I look away from Harry’s face, a little consternated. “Draco? Are you okay? Merlin, what are you doing standing out here?”

I don’t respond. Harry coughs. “That’ll be me. I basically tripped him earlier, and we got talking.”

Justin’s eyes widen just a little, and he looks at Draco in concern. “In this weather? It’s freezing! I’ll grab you mug of spice cider, alright?”

“No,” I say, finally finding my bloody voice again. “No, I’m fine. And anyway.” I shoot a glance at Harry. “We’re tied one-for-one.” Harry smirks.

Justin continues when I look back to him. “Dray, come on. A cup of cider, a bite to eat.”

I shake my head, wanting this day to be done with already. “I’ve got plans.”

Justin eyes get just a little softer. “Come on, please?”

“He does. Have plans.” Potter says, and my neck twinges with how fast I turn to look at him. “We’re going to dinner.”

Justin goggles, just a little, looks between Harry and me. There’s a certain part of me – a different part to the one that’s processing whether or not Harry means what he said about dinner – that’s a little vindictively pleased about Justin’s reaction. “Oh!” Justin says. “Okay, no… No worries!” He meets my eyes, and I flush. “It was good to see you. Please, do come around. The staff miss you, you know.”

I smile politely. “Thanks, Justin.” I stand a little taller, and nod to him. “Take care.”

“You too.” And he grins kindly, lifting a hand to Harry and me, before hastening back into the warm sanctuary of his bakery. The door does its little muted clang again as it closes. My mouth – still sitting in a polite smile – relaxes, leaving a little pain in my cheeks.

Harry hums. “Do you ever think that we’re all a bit toomature now?”

Surprisingly, I laugh loudly at that. I’m nodding even before I get the words out. “Yes. I’d almost wish to be fifteen again and have a real proper tantrum about this.” I sigh, laugh a little again. “But, you know. Fifteen-year-old me? Good riddance.”

“I don’t know…” Harry trails off, “there were some redeeming qualities. He was certainly a creative sort.”

I goggle at him, and immediately stop when I realise that I’m imitating Justin to some extent. “Stop having me on.”

Harry… laughs. “Yeah, I’m having you on. You were a right bastard.”

I shake my head, and turn away from the lights of the bakery, and start walking. He’ll surely catch up.

“I was serious.” Harry says, and I turn my head a little to let him know I’m listening as I walk. “About dinner.”

“I assumed so,” even though that’s a bit of a lie.

“And,” Harry catches up. “I mean ‘dinner’ as in. A date.”

I’m not proud of this, but I slip. Just a little. “Fuck,” I say as I try to catch myself. Thank goodness that Potter’s a bit more onto it, though. He just grabs my arm, and an arm around my back. Straightens me up.

“Bloody hell, I should have talked to him about the snow vanishing,” Harry’s saying as I brush off my cloak to hide my flush. “It’s all the Diagon Business Association talks about during winter, I don’t know what he’s on-”

“Harry.”

He stops and looks at me. Christmas music is still playing, and its still grating, but goodness the lights work well on his complexion. And his eyes.

I smile, just a little. “We’ve got dinner plans, I thought? We could talk about this there, surely?”

He laughs.

#drarry fic #drarry #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfic #this came out of nowhere and was supposed to be something much different before it became this #fluff #pure and simple #and god now all i want is to have 30k of Harry as wandmaker and Draco as the muggleborn liason #brining the little muggleborn kids and their families through Diagon before they go off to Hogwarts #and Harry and Draco learning to like each other through that #and falling kind of just #slowly for each other because of it #and Draco deserves a little date #as a treat

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

When the Weight Comes Down - 2

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark! (biker) Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Your father’s a drunk, your mother a recluse, and you’re just another small town girl in Birch.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown

Note: Alright, I’ll spoil my boos and my bees. Hope you enjoy part two; it’s probably my fave chapter tbh honest. So fun to write! Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter Two: Ultra Mundane

Feel the ultra mundane Of another life A poet in the service

💀💀

You liked opening shifts, especially as the days got warmer. Spring wore on with as many sunny days as rainy days. That morning, you woke to a thick fog and the threat of rain floated in the air. You pulled on the crinkly raincoat and headed out. You were still yawning from the hectic night; you hadn’t gotten much sleep as your mind flitted back to the bar; the man and his intent blue eyes.

You unlocked the door, certain to turn the latch behind you. You had an hour to get everything in the oven and push yesterday’s remnants to the front of the display. You hung your coat in the back room and pulled on your apron and hairnet. Babs would be in at noon but the high school girl, Marcia, was due at opening.

The spatter of rain tapped on the window as you started your opening routine. It was peaceful. Despite your innate shyness, it was one of the few times you were completely alone. No customers, no neurotic mother, no drunken father, just you and the ovens.

That day’s special was cinnamon buns. They’d be placed in the cover glass platter just beside the till with a little card you’d made yourself. Uneven roses along thorny vines bordered the edge and displayed the one-day price.

The buns were cool enough for you to start icing as you flipped the sign to open and let Marcia in. You went about your task as Marcia stood at the till. She was part-time; only worked on the weekends. She was bubbly and giggly. She told you stories about her classmates and the drama which seemed fit to a midday soap opera. In a way, you envied her. Well, in all ways, you did.

The Sunday rush began at ten, just after church service. The few tables in the bakery quickly filled as you set out the carafes with coffee and tea. Despite the downpour, the elderly crowd ventured the half-block from the steepled church and waited in line for their treats.

After noon, the flow of customers lulled as it usually did. Babs relieved Marcia of her half-shift and helped you mark down what was left of the older batches to half-off. The tinny bell over the door rang as Babs worked at cleaning pans in the back room. You looked up and your mouth fell open at the startlingly familiar face.

The man, Steve, ducked through the door. His hair was darkened by the rain and little droplets clung to his thick beard. He smoothed back his hair as his eyes glimmered and he smiled at you. You snapped your mouth shut and placed the last loaf of discount bread on the shelf.

“Hello,” You greeted him as you went to the till. “Can I get you something today?”

He neared the other side and his fingers tapped on the counter.

“It’s ugly out there,” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Heh, yeah,” You said awkwardly and ran your thumbs along the aged till. “Our cinnamon buns are on special. Just a few left.”

He tilted his head and leaned on the counter.

“You didn’t forget me already,” He raised his brows.

“No, no, I… remember,” You looked down at the faded numbers.

“How’s your pa?” He asked.

“He’s… fine, I’m sure.” You said quietly.

“You make it yourself?” He tapped the glass lid of the platter. You nodded.

“It’s Babs’ recipe,” You muttered. “I just put it in the oven.”

“I’ll take it,” He reached for his wallet. “And coffee?”

“I’ll have to put a pot on if you don’t mind the wait,” You said.

“I’m in no rush to go back out,” He assured you as the windows shook at the rising winds outside. “Thunderstorms tonight.”

“Mmhmm,” You punched in his order. “Anything else?”

“Cinnamon raisin bread?” He read the board above the loaves. “Is it any good?”

“If you like sweet stuff,” You looked over at the shelf.

“I love sweet stuff,” He said. “I’ll take a loaf.”

“Sliced?” You asked.

“Please,” He answered and you grabbed him a bag.

You returned to the counter and read out his total. He handed you a bill and your fingers brushed against his palm as he took his change. He dropped it in the tip cup and winked. You bit your cheek and grabbed a plate for his bun. You took it out with the tongs and slid it across to him with a knife and fork.

He thanked you and you told him to sit and you’d bring him coffee when it was ready. He reluctantly backed away and sat at the table closest to the counter. You turned to load a fresh filter into the machine and scooped the grinds in carefully. You grabbed the little tray of creamers and sugar packets and rounded the counter to bring it to him.

“I forgot to ask if you wanted decaf,” You set it down. “I’m sorry.”

“Regular’s fine,” He leaned back in his chair. “You like working here?”

“Um, sure,” You shrugged and made to turn away.

“Hey, wait,” He said and glanced around the empty bakery. “What’s the rush? Not very busy in here.”

“Your coffee,” You uttered as the grind of the machine sounded behind you.

“I’m patient,” He assured you. “I just wanna talk.”

“Well, I’m working and I shouldn’t--”

“I’ll take the blame, doll,” He said. “Your ma seems like a nice lady.”

You looked away as you rubbed your arm. You shrugged again.

“What? You don’t think she’s nice?”

“She is…” You picked at your sleeve. “But… she doesn’t like bikers.”

He chuckled and cut into his bun. You tried to walk away again.

“She’s a smart lady then,” He said. “I don’t like them much myself.”

You hovered awkwardly at the other side of his table. He chewed and wiped the corner of his mouth.

“And you? You hate bikers, too?”

“Well, I…” You licked your dry lips and his eyes followed the movement. “I never thought much about it, I guess.”

“What time you done, doll?”

You blinked and frowned. You glanced over at the swinging door to the back room. The clink and clank of pans continued as Babs went about her work.

“Why?” You asked.

“I’ll drive you home,” He said as he looked through the window. “It’s a bit wild out there.”

“No, you really-- I can get home.” You slowly inched away. “But thank you.”

“I got the truck.” He insisted. “ Don’t like taking the bike out much in this weather.”

“Really, I’m okay,” You backed up. “I should get your coffee.”

“What time?” He asked again.

You stopped at the corner of the counter. You stared at him as he dropped his fork and took a bite out of the bun. He watched you closely.

“Two o’clock,” You peeked at the clock; it was already after one. “But you don’t need to--”

“I’ll take my time then,” He said. “And you take yours, doll.”

💀

You were fifteen minutes over time when Babs finally assured you she could close on her own. You were hoping she’d ask you to stay so you had an excuse to send Steve away. You’d stay even if she didn’t pay.

The thought of being alone with the man was terrifying. You’d only ever been alone with your father and he barely acknowledged you outside of asking for another beer, berating you, or worse.

You untied your apron and hung it on the hook and took your coat. You pulled it on and grabbed your bag before you pushed through into the cafe. Babs followed but drew you back into the kitchen as she saw Steve standing by the window.

“How long has he been here?” She asked as the door swung back into place.

“Almost an hour,” You said evasively. “He’s leaving now.”

She was silent as she stared at you. Her rosy cheeks paled.

“With you?”

You looked down. She tutted and touched your elbow.

“I tried to say no but… it’s just a ride. He’s being nice.” You squeaked.

“Nice? Those men aren’t nice.” She hissed. “You be careful.”

“He has no reason to hurt me,” You argued.

“No reason? He doesn’t need one.”

“Babs, look at me,” You frowned. “Come on.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” She warned. “He definitely will.”

“I don’t… know what to do,” You said quietly. “To make him go.”

“You call me when you get home,” She drew you into a hug. “Twenty minutes our I’m closing early and coming to find you.”

“You don’t really think--”

“I don’t know what to think, sweets,” She said. “But I know his type are up to no good.”

You hugged your bag and nodded. “I’ll call.”

“Your ma wouldn’t want you hanging ‘round that man,” She tisked.

“I know,” You put your hand on the door. “I’m not too keen on it either.”

You pushed through once more and hesitantly rounded the counter. Steve turned away from his vigil at the window; the rain had slowed but the sky was getting darker. He had his loaf of bread in hand. You kept your bag in your arms as you squeezed it tighter and tighter.

“Sorry, I forgot… to tidy the racks,” You lied. “And my ma will be waiting for me.”

“I’m sure she will,” He went to the door. “Good thing you’re not walking.”

“Thank you, again.” You neared as he opened the door with a dull chime. “You don’t--”

“You act like I’m the first person to do you a favour,” He quipped as you pulled up your hood, your other arm still wrapped around your bag.

“My pa will be in a state too,” You stepped out ahead of him as he zipped up his leather jacket.

You turned towards your house but he caught your arm. He pulled you back and guided you down to the large truck double-parked in front of Lloyd’s bookshop. It was a lot newer than your father’s and it actually ran. He opened the door as he turned his chin down as the rain slaked over his head and you climbed up quickly.

He closed the door and rushed around the front of the truck. He got in and shoved his keys in the slot as he tossed the bread behind his seat. He turned the engine and let the car idle as he reached into his jacket. He pulled out his phone and wiped the stray droplet off the screen with the thigh of his jeans. He dropped it in the cupholder and shifted gears before he pulled out.

“You work tomorrow?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You answered as you watched the rivulets streaming down the window. The steady beat of the windshield wipers interspersed the patter of rain.

“You ever get a day off?”

“Wednesdays and Thursdays,” You regretted answering. You should have lied but you were never very good at that.

He slowed at the sign and you felt him looking at you. You were too scared to look back. He slowly hit the gas and you leaned against the door as you clung to your page.

“Wednesday night,” He said. “How about you come down to the bar for a drink?”

You glanced over at him but quickly turned your eyes ahead of you. Your lips parted. You were silent.

“Hey?” He prodded.

“I don’t drink,” You said.

“Jeez, I’m not asking you to pick up a habit, just one drink.” He urged.

“My ma--”

“How old are you?” He asked as he came in sight of your house. “What are we? Couple years apart? You’re an adult. Let your ma enjoy an empty nest for the night.”

You inhaled and sucked your lip in nervously. As he came closer to your house, your stomach flipped.

“I don’t know.” You muttered.

“I’ll be by at nine to get you. Plenty of time to get yourself sorted.” He said.

“I didn’t say yes,” You replied as he stopped behind your father’s busted Ford.

His eyes flashed as he turned to you and you looked back shyly.

“Wednesday. Nine.” He stated as his arm stretched between your seats, his hand on your headrest. “Tell your ma I’ll have you home by midnight. She doesn’t need to worry so much.”

Your lashes fluttered and you bent your head. You stared at the wet spots on your canvas bag. You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle. His hand fell to your shoulder to stop you.

“Wait,” He grabbed his phone. “You’re number?”

“I don’t--” You stared at his cell and pursed your lips. “I don’t have a cell phone. I can give you my house number.”

“No phone?” He repeated. “No, it’s okay.” He fixed the string of your raincoat. “I’ll see you ‘round.”

You pulled the handle and tumbled out onto your feet. The mud squelched around your shoes. You should’ve worn your boots but you had only the sense to bring your coat. You didn’t look back as you closed the door and rushed up to your porch. The curtains along the front room moved as you opened the screen door. The tires squelched behind you and you rushed inside. Your mother greeted you from the living room doorway.

“I told you not to talk to that man,” She said.

“Ma,” You hung your bag and undid your coat. “I tried. Okay? I’m tired. I worked--”

“And I’ve been cleaning this mess all day,” She huffed. “Your pa made a hell of a mess when he finally woke up.”

“Ma, please,” You kicked your shoes off. “Just-- I just got home.”

“I don’t want him around here,” She crossed her arms.

You dragged your feet down the hall and stopped in front of her.

“Neither do I,” You said. “Maybe next time, you can try telling him.”

You turned and went to your room. You closed yourself in and felt your heart racing. Wednesday wasn’t very far at all. Three days. Barely a wink in a small town like this.

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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years

Text

Thank You For Dropping Me Off, Sir

Now I've talked a lot about Armando's denial and given the facts to prove it. What I don't want getting lost in translation though is that though Armando does care about Betty, you cannot deny that he is also concerned over the company, however it(his feelings towards Betty) is the the real reason he continues with the plan.

@el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle (They're the poster about Aura Maria and Mario their post is Episode 64, go read it if you haven't had the chance!) mentioned something that I hadn't thought about all that well, that due to Armando's tendency of people pleasing he often does things out of a deep responsibility for their happiness and his guilt.

When Mario manipulates him this day(the day after he first kissed Betty) he really switches language as he tells him "I don't like this." "I'm worried." He's after our(my) money." which moves Armando to continue with the plan, for the sake of Mario and the company and everyone else in the company but now he has another reason, he somewhat wants to understand what he feels.

Now let's jump into the scene I'll be breaking down.

Betty is being dropped off by Armando. She is still keeping this very PG, trying to justify his actions to them being work related. Again this is very true of a person who has experienced real heartbreak of the romantic kind. Like I mentioned in the previous post I was in toxic friendship, when that friendship was over I spent years guarding myself around anyone and making no efforts to from friendships of any real substance and when I did I worked really hard to keep them at arm's length. This was my defense mechanism and I appreciate the fact that they show this with Betty.

In most instances they don't portray characters with emotional damage all too well or one could assume that Betty does this because she's insecure and though to some degree that's true, Betty also does this to protect herself from having to once again experience heartbreak and this time from someone who she actually cares about, not someone who in some way forced himself to be her interest.

Miguel wasn't just a guy who used her and got money out of it. That wasn't the only thing that broke Betty.

Miguel presented himself as a love interested to Betty, who didn't like him at first but was flattered by his attention, as she later tells Armando that she up to that point thought no man would ever pay attention to her as a woman. Betty was somewhat guarded but once she let her guard down she fell in love.

She says she gave all of herself and all her love to him. He was her first love but Miguel didn't care. To Betty what Miguel did translated to him finding her so repulsive, so heinous, and disgusting that even her love wasn't enough to change his heart and he shared her naked spirit to his friends all for money and to make fun of her. It wasn't a question of ego but rather of worth.

This with every right left Betty traumatized. So when she speaks over him, interrupts Armando and justify it as him being drunk, not knowing what he was doing, depressed, stressed, anguished for the company and exceeding himself with beautifiers, she is trying not to feed her hope. She is trying to remain grounded and safe because unlike with Miguel Betty on her own has discovered who Armando is and decided to fall in love with him. What she feels for his is true and genuine feelings that weren't "forced" or pushed onto her like with Miguel. If she allows herself to believe what he is saying she is allowing herself to fall victim to loves cruelty again.

Armando soberly repeats the same things he had drunkenly told Betty the previous night. That he can't live without her.

"But you haven't lived without me, Sir. I work by your side more than eighteen hours (Girl I would've done killted myself if I had to work beside a man as neurotic as Armando for 18+ hours a day!No matter how good the view is!) a day."

"Yes but now it's different, Beatriz, because I feel these desires[I can't really hear what he said] to caress you, to kiss you." He says leaning forward after touching the side of her face with the back of his fingers, but Betty pulls back and says "No".

As he pulls away Armando studies Betty's face and looks embarrassed as well as confused at Betty's rejection all the while trying to remain composed.

This is when Betty names the list of reasons not to believe Armando is interested in her and Armando gets mad at her.

He openly yells "No,no,no, I'm not confused Beatriz!" he says between clenched teeth and turns to look at her. "I am not. I feel perfectly sure that what I'm saying is the truth."

"Sir, the thing is that it's not possible for you to have taken notice of me."

Angirly now Armando screams at her "But why!"

Why does he react so angrily at Betty for this? For one because he doesn't like for Betty to invalidate his feelings(again this shows he feels comfortable being himself around her) and that she wouldn't believe that he likes her.

I mentioned already that Armando's tone gives us a true understanding of what he's saying and with what intention even when his body language is different. Here he is upset that Betty doesn't believe him and mostly that she doesn't see why he'd be interested in her.

"But why?" he asks more calmly at seeing Betty's reaction.

She nervously begins to explain "Because I know your type really well. You are of fine palate. You like women who are ninety, sixty, ninety, tall, pretty, with class, and-and I don't correlate with any of those characteristics, sir."

"Yes that's true." They both laugh nervously, "Betty, Betty, Betty." He is now trying to find the words to speak. "I love,love, your-your, strength hmm" He nods and here we see him slowly become more honest as he finds the qualities of Betty's that he loves/likes. "I love that energy that I feel when we're together, I love it. I love the way you do things like so sure of it." He smiles and turns to look at her and then tells her. "I also love your softness(tenderness/gentle nature)." he says looking away from her now being shy and then looks back at her and tells her "I love that gift you've got, of managing people. I really love that."(y'all this is why she works 18+ hours with him, I get it).

Again he starts to struggle to find the words but he finds them and unlike the first reason he listed (her strength) he is actually being honest even though he is doing the same gesture(from what I've read often times when you are reading body language you don't just focus on the gesture but overall the entire context; like tone of voice, subject of conversation, speech patterns, ect. We can conclude that Armando is being honest here as it shows a very natural pattern of behavior of his here instead of seeming tense, now he is actively wanting to find the words to speak) "I love your sensibility, man, you've got a very special sensibility." Betty now looks away from him with a slight smile and he seems Contentment with her reaction(Even in the past, before all of this, Armando has always had a face of contentment/joy when he sees Betty smile, especially when he is the one that makes her smile and because of that he kept trying to actively treat her better so that he could be the cause of it; it's a sense of reward really. He did something nice for her and she'd be happy and that would make him happy. A clear demonstration of this is when Armando talks to Betty about her new raise) and he tells her "Betty it's because you're like a little angle to me. Plus I love your personality, what a (the word he uses literally translates to hot or scorching but we'll use another one) welcoming personality and and I love you intelligence. The way you so efficiently do things. It's because I think that any man would find all of that attractive now, don't you think?"

Armando started struggling to consciously find what he likes about her but all of a sudden he can't stop naming them or talking about the things he finds attractive of Betty's. Like a vail has been dropped in his brain all of a sudden>

"Mmm, no." Betty shakes her head in response to his question. "Definitely not, Sir."

"No?" He chuckles nervously "then I don't know what's going on with me then so then I'm going crazy...crazy for you. See I want you to know that since I found out about Nicolas I felt a lot a lot of fear. I felt a lot of anguish and believe me, I felt a lot of anguish but also this desire to caress you and kiss you. " In this sentence we get a shift of tone of voice showing that he shifts from being honest to being manipulative.

"No, no, Sir. What I was only going to tell you is that I don't understand why you feel that about me. I can't find any motive why[you would]."

Armando's tone has now shifted to manipulation, no longer being light hearted and natural.

"This goes to prove that what one feels goes beyond physical appearance, the stereotypical, you understand me?" then again shifts to his natural voice "Betty I know that you've probably thought that the woman of my life has to be a ninety, sixty, ninety, with these marvelous curves, with generous breast, blue eyes, very tall," he says very clearly showing that he likes that and Betty seems down about it until he turns to look at her "like the models, right? But look none of those models have made me happy. I haven't felt for anyone, what I feel for you Beatriz Pinzon Solano." The final sentence he says with conviction. You can't overlook or ignore that as confusion, this shows us that Armando to some degree knows that what he feels for Betty goes beyond anything he's ever felt for anyone.

Now next he closes his eyes to go onto this monologue that beauty isn't what media feeds us but rather something that is deeper than skin. That is it based on the substance of a person, speaking Betty's love ideal here. Why does he have his eyes closed?

He can openly talk about Betty and the wonderful qualities that he finds attractive but he can't openly talk about Betty's physical appearance because up to this point he hasn't accepted or had to face that reality yet.

Betty the whole time is paying attention to what he's saying, his body language. This is why Betty lives sure and convinced of what he is telling her because she's learned to read him like her favorite book and that's the thing.

Betty is very aware of Armando's feelings, boundaries, and flaws. Just like Mario is and we see that in the office when they see each other for the first time after the kiss. Betty inspects his behavior and then decides to act like nothing happened, not only to protect herself but to not make him uncomfortable. The difference however is that while Mario uses his knowledge on Armando to manipulate and force him to do things, Betty doesn't. Betty uses this knowledge to help him and to encourage him in his growth by celebrating his victories and standing beside him when he fails. She doesn't demand for him to change or stop doing what he is, instead she allows him to behave how he does but she isn't shy to show how she feels about it. While Armando isn't so much intune or aware of Betty's feelings because he's so focused on what Betty does for him, however this doesn't dismiss that because of the way Betty loves him, it also inspires him to change and that's really the biggest lesson we get with these two and we're only getting started.

"Are you sure you haven't had anything to drink, sir?"

"I'm sober, Betty, but I'm hallucinating, and that's real." he looks away from her and then back "I'm hallucinating but for you. Of you, Betty." he leans forward. Now the music here gives us the understanding that it is meant to be intriguing(I love the soundtrack so I looked it up and that's legit the title track for this theme) .

Music is a huge part of cinema as it is proven to affect the audience and convey feelings otherwise dismissed. The music creates an air of mystery now because we don't know if what Armando is saying and doing is honest now while in the past we could pick up on it now it's a lot harder to do so.

However one can imagine that while he had his eyes closed he was pictureing Adriana Arboleda sitting in front of him(why else would they show us Mario giving him the picture and telling him to just picture her instead) instead of Betty.

Betty turns to look at the moon after he points it and she smiles.

"Yes the moon is very beautiful. How curious." she speaks as Armando now looks at a picture of AA. "It's the same moon that's inspired so many poets throughout a lot of human history." Here Armando takes in a deep breath is seems to be pumping himself up, he takes off his glasses. Betty is still looking up at the moon and says "There's nothing that inspires more than the moon." Armando sleeks his brows(he wanted to look presentable IG) and agrees with her, now his hand under her chin her turns her around towards him.

"And that's our moon, Beatriz and this is our night." He now leans closer.

Now I see many people point out that Armando's eyes are open when he kisses Betty but this is something he does with Marcela as well which indicates that it isn't based on disgust but mostly guilt.

As they kiss at first his eyes are wide open and then tightly shut(if I'm being honest, as a person who hates romance(ironic huh) I hate with a passion, kissing scenes so this is hard for me to watch lol like I've seen from the nose up, nothing below that so I know how Armando reacts as wella s Betty but the mouth part is the one that grosses me out the most) . Betty takes ina sharp breath and pulls away and now Armando opens his eyes surprised and does the same.

"No, Sir.." Betty is now the one struggling to find words.

"You didn't like it?" He asks but states at the same time.

Betty nods gently, however her eyes are wide. Betty is terrified here and it isn't because Armando is taking advantage here(he's not) it's because she is terrified of all the implications it means. For one she is allowing herself to have hope for a relationship with Armando, for her to show her love to him and for him to love her for it, despite the fact she's "ugly". It means that she is setting herself up for a potential heartbreak that could be the end of her.

"Lets move from here, it's cause my dad peeps out through the windows and he can come and see what's going on and I don't want that."

"Yeah me either."

They move from location and Betty proceeds to speak.

"Sir this isn't correct. I don't know what's going on with you. I'm starting to get worried, Sir. "

"What is it Betty? Is that you suddenly don't feel anything for me?" He tries to stay composed but his micro expression shows worry.

"Of course I do." He looks somewhat relieved while maintaining a poker face. "I admire you a lot. You're a man that's so-so interesting." he smirks and raises an eyebrow showing approval of what she said as well as confident in himself 'Of course you do'.

"I started to feel that you were special for me when you started to defend my work. To value me as a professional." He still seems pleased but not as much. As Betty relays all of this in the professional element(While Armando focused on the person). We know why it was so important to her that Armando did this and why he became special to her for it, however Armando doesn't. "and I realized how important I am for your life.(osea, how important of a role she plays in his life)" Armando now has eyebrows raised and is blinking rapidly. He is really paying attention to what she is saying. and trying to comprehend as well "All of these things attract me from you." she says timidly.

He now has to face this new reality, that though he confessed true attraction based on her person, Betty has only relaid professional or work related qualities that attract her, not him as an individual and why it bothers him.

"That-that's wonderful, Betty."

"But this is crazy, Sir. You have a girlfriend, you're going to get married." He turns from he and opens his mouth slightly in shock and then turns back to look at her. "You can't leave Marcela to start a relationship with me."

He now looks at her with a frustrated expression.

"It would be terrible, your family would not allow it... and what would happen with me? You have to really think this through."

"No, Betty, but of course. It can be crazy, of course. What's happening is that I already... I already experienced something. Yes and I already confirmed that I want to keep living it. Now you're right I can't breakup with Marcela, just like that. The situation with Eco Moda is too difficult to end things with her right this moment, plus my relationship with my family is in crises, I think they wouldn't take the sandal and neither would I but you better than anyone know I don't love Marcela. See if that's the case, what's the fear? Let's continue ahead, Betty. Besides it's about feelings. I have to feel for you, you have to feel for me. We'll see til where we go. Don't you think?" The music theme is titled "secrecy".

"I'm just so afraid, Sir."

"Or is it because you feel more for that sir, Nicolas?" he says with a tinge of jealousy.

"Ay, sir, lets take Nicolas out of this conversation, you want to?"

"Yes clearly, that's what I want. So what then? What's the fear? Huh? You've risked everything for me, see, together we've done a lot crazy things. We've been accomplices in a lot things and now you're going to tell me that you don't have the bravery to live this next to me? Or you don't want to live it, Betty?

"Of course I do, Sir."

"Yes?" He now shifts to kiss her.

After their kiss, after Armando does that disgusted face again, Betty agrees to be his other woman.

His phone starts to ring and Marcela is a very possessive manner tells Armando that she's waiting for him and just wanted to make sure he was going to go over, that she a very delicious dinner for him.

After he hangs up and he agrees to drop her off he tells Betty "You look very precious." And she scoffs in a lighthearted way, finding it funny that he'd say that.

Marcela legit made fun of her and said that she looked worse than she had the day before so it amuses her that Armando would say that.

"One last question, will Mr. Mario Calderon know of this?" she asks as they arrive at the front of her house. "It's just that you both are so trusting of each other, you tell each other everything. I wouldn't want for him nor anyone to know of this, Sir. In some way you have a relationship with Ms. Marcela and by accepting this affair I take on the role of you lover."

"No don't say that." Again this entire things highlights Armando's true nature of his obsessiveness with physical perfection and how it's the only way he can ever be attracted to a woman so he feels grossed out by the idea of having to do anything more than kissing, and lover implies that they do more than kissing. He'd know, he's an expert in the subject.

This is when Armando promises to Betty not to tell Mario about this.

This is his second mistake with Betty.

The first being that he starts his relationship in the bases of lies.

The drop off:

Now as the nights go on there's a change of pace to the drop offs in front of Betty's house.

This first time Betty waves good-bye to him and he repeats to himself he's a piece of ish over and over again, angirly. Duh, he feels guilty.

Betty's dad then opens the door and Armando urgently drives off. Later we see that he does this frequently but slowly he begins to take a while longer before driving off, which demonstrates his longing for Betty.

#analysis of ysblf #armando ysblf #don armando #armando mendoza #betty #beatriz pinzon solano #betty pinzón solano #betty ysblf #betty la fea #yo soy betty la fea

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lucemondbot · 3 years

Text

Mobius Strip

Sum: the third break-up of Lucerys Velaryon and Aemond Targaryen.

*Translated from the Chinese version and my English is really POOR. *Lucerys Velaryon （above） x Aemond Targaryen (sub) *Age difference adjusted to one year. Modern city paro.

"We've come to the end of the road, but we're safe." -- "Downhill”

Aemond Targaryen took all his appendages with him, and all that he had left behind in Lucerys' life suddenly disappeared as if swallowed by a sudden tornado, leaving a huge, gray void surrounding him. It was the third time in two years, but now Lucerys felt a panic that he had never felt before.

He felt chagrin, but not much regret - it was a little too difficult for him to endure any longer. Most of the time Lucerys would choose to forgive the other side, but this time it was difficult. The funny thing was that he couldn't even remember what the heated argument had been about, except that he had burned their only photo together on the balcony half an hour after Aemond had left, in a mood that could not be described as depressed, and then smoked a menthol cigarette for the first time as a "reward" for crossing that hurdle. His eyes felt a little sore, and he convinced himself that it was only because the smoke was too strong, and not because of anything else. He thought about how Aemond was always passing the buck, blaming all of life's misfortunes on Lucerys - whether it was the dispute with Alicent Hightower or his brother's malicious jokes. You're too neurotic, Lucerys wanted to tell him, but he was tired of talking to Aemond. Two nights ago Lucerys was convinced that he would go mad sooner or later if he kept going on like this. But it was all over now. So he solemnly went out and drank with his brother, Jacaerys, until the early hours of the morning, and both ended up rotten.

"I don't really believe you'd really want to part with him." Jacaerys said.

"Maybe he never loved me at all, and maybe I did as well." Lucerys said calmly, "We just can't continue to live together."

"Who knows? I think that counts for something." His brother replied. And Lucerys smiled at him. He ended up drinking so much that night that he plopped down by the toilet and vomited as soon as he got back to the apartment after dawn. Through physical tears, he finally had a chance to sob. He didn't understand why he was crying, he just felt so miserable, like falling from a speeding carriage into a puddle of sludge, and it wasn't the first time he had fallen. But once he always had the strength to get up from the mud to catch up with Aemond, and now the situation is very different.

Lucerys recalled, in a confused and hazy haze, the times they had stood side by side in the kitchen studying the new oven, and Aemond had licked all the cream and sugar off his fingers before they had kissed for a long time; or the times they had made love on the bathroom floor, and he had separated Aemond's legs while Aemond had covered his eye and cursed Lucerys, and both of them had ended up with red bruises on their knees; or the times when he just stroked Aemond quietly, he could clearly remember the contours of every bone in his body: his little thumbs, for example, were long and curved slightly inward, his spine and shoulder blades shaped when he arched his back; Aemond would drink whiskey laced with lemonade before he went to bed, and Lucerys never understood what proportion they needed to be mixed. At least he could taste it when their lips were entwined. In July, during the summer holiday, they passed most of the day with long kisses and boring romance movies. That year Lucerys craved skin-to-skin contact more and more, but it was only after the holidays were over that he was able to wrap his arms around Aemond and bury his face in the crook of his neck without a care in the world. He liked to hold that position and then kiss the knot of his throat and his lower jaw.

After graduation they spent the rest of their nights and mornings making love, even though Aemond often looked disgusted - sometimes Lucerys just couldn't quite figure out what Aemond was thinking. What does he want from me? Again and again he stood naked and alone on the terrace late at night thinking, with the sound of Aemond's tired breathing in his sleep behind him. Apparently they were not short of money, so Lucerys got a Mustang the following year, no loan, lump sum. He took him on a road in the humid suburban air, the speakers playing a childish Disney animated movie episode. At a red light he let go of the steering wheel and took hold of Aemond's right hand again, rubbing his fingertips against his nails. When Aemond turned his head, Lucerys cupped his cheeks with both hands and kissed him. At that moment he remembered the doves in Snow White passing kisses for the man and woman who fell in love at first sight, but the pigeons in the park only asked for bread crumbs. Did he want me to love him? Lucerys try to find the answer in his closed eyes. Did he simply want a partner who would put up with all his quirks, or at least make his life less irritatingly monotonous? What would he think of when he kissed him back eagerly?

Lucerys subconsciously wanted to call him, but remembering that he had deleted Aemond from his contacts, even though the string of numbers was still clear to him now, he turned off his phone, sat back down on the couch, turned on the TV and started staring at the screen. Until Rhaena called her in the afternoon, "Lucerys, I heard about that thing."

"Oh," he said, "I'm fine now, really."

"It's our birthday party this weekend, so if you'd like to com, that would be great, of course." Rhaena said, "Baela also thought you might need some new friends."

"I have friends." Lucerys said, "I have my brothers, and you and Baela."

"But Baela wants you to come, and so do your brothers."

"Yes, I will come." He sighed and waited patiently for Rhaena to end the conversation, then began to count how many white flowers were on the pattern of the carpet, still feeling drunk.

Lucerys had forgotten exactly what month it had been the last time Aemond had slipped away, but it seemed to be a spring with French sycamore cotton wool-like flowers that would have made Joffrey allergic. He remembers panicking and staying by the phone twenty-four hours a day, even walking aimlessly around the living room, before Lucerys finally made up his mind to go looking for him, and his first step was to dial Aemond's number from a public phone booth near his house. He nervously kept picking his fingers at the reeled-up phone line. What should he answer if Aemond refused, or if he was abusive? Maybe he shouldn't call at this time.

When the line came through, Aemond didn't even make any extra pleasantries, he just said, "Lucerys Valerian."

"I just wanted to ask," Lucerys said, "Are you all right? I was worried about you."

Then he was surprised to find that Aemond's voice seemed a little hoarse when he spoke. "Nothing serious. Except that ...... oh, damn, I got hit by a damned driver." He sounded unwilling to admit it, "Just a broken bone. Nothing else happened."

"I will come to see you." Lucerys said. He hung up before Aemond had time to refuse. Panting, he hailed a cab and took it all the way to the home of Aemond's mother, Alicent Hightower. He didn't have a car of his own at that point. Lucerys tripped over a raised floor tile in the parking lane and fell to the ground, scraping his knee twice. When Alicent came out to open the door, Lucerys found herself still shaking. The outline of her jaw constricted steeply, but she still turned her body sideways to give him room to pass.

Aemond was lying in his bedroom, with his right leg in a white cast, holding a still-unopened packet of Godiva chocolates. Lucerys was too moved to speak as he fell to his knees beside him, and could only kiss him desperately with apologies. Aemond used the index finger of his right hand to push Lucerys's jaw open, then squeezed his shoulder.

"You're not a dog of mine," Aemond said, his voice sounded unhappy and annoyed,"There's no need to follow me all the time."

"Come back. "Lucerys replied feebly, "Come back to me."

In the fourth week of Aemond Targaryen's absence, Lucerys began to be asked out frequently. Most of the time it was Baela's classmates at the university who invited him. He guessed that it was in fact Jacaerys who had authorized them to do so. But Lucerys didn't refuse. He didn't like going to drinking parties, and sitting in the corner of a cafe was more his speed. The sixth time he was asked out he found himself unconsciously wandering off during the date as well. As he gazed at their blond, brown, or black hair, he was reminded of Aemond's hair, silver, and the odd smelling shampoo he used that smelled like a mixture of mint and ginger. Sometimes even Lucerys himself didn't realize he was comparing them to each other until he found himself constantly remembering the time they had sex when they got back together at college and feeling blushing and embarrassed about it.

He certainly remembered it well. They had stumbled into a passionate kiss in the locker room by the winter pool, and Lucerys' back had hit the metal coat hook behind him several times. Aemond sat on Luceys, holding his fingers tightly and guiding Lucerys through the expansion while he put on a "Troy" condom for Lucerys. He had obviously come prepared. Even though he knew Aemond wouldn't want him to do anything rash at a time like this, he reached out with his left hand to press against his buttocks, the skin wet and cold. Aemond warbled and began to adjust his position after pulling his fingers away, until he sank down hard and then Lucerys' penis finally entered his hole. Troy's blue wrapper fell to one side.

"Do you want me?" Aemond moaned and forced him, arching his back as his lower body went deeper. Lucerys touched his well-defined spine again, and he found himself shuddering at that, turning to rest his palms on the side of Aemond's waist in confusion, feeling Aemond like a sailboat undulating on the sea. He had also begun to gasp with excitement. Even though he knew Aemond didn't like him staring at himself during sex, he still couldn't ignore the lines of Aemond's cheekbones, the hollows between his collarbones, and the blazing warmth between his legs - all things that made Lucerys grateful at that moment. "I want you." Lucerys whispered. And Aemond gave no indication; he simply increased the intensity of his movements and soon found a position that invigorated both of them. He lowered his head and kissed him hard, finally scratching Luthris's back hard as he climaxed. Lucerys heard him let out a sigh that didn't sound like satisfaction or exhaustion, but it sounded like relief. It was as if the barrier between them had vanished into thin air at the same time. Aemond briefly rested his face on his chest. At least for a moment, he felt they had reconciled. They had been together until graduation, even if their relationship had not been as ideal as it had been at the beginning. Lucerys needed a glass of milk every night to help him sleep - a habit he had broken for six years since he turned fifteen. In fact, he wasn't sure if it was working or not at all.

"You're going off again." The girl sitting across from him complained. Lucerys couldn't remember her name for a moment. Marilyn, or was it Marianne? He blamed himself for forgetting it, and sulked because of his irritatingly declining memory. Lucerys struggled to throw away the unpleasant memories, but found that they stuck to his mind like garbage. They played over and over like a montage.

"You had an ex, didn't you?" She trailed off. Then before he could answer she was talking to herself again, spouting off about how awful and insufferable her ex was. He pretended to be listening intently, then deleted all ninety-nine unread ads and verification texts from his phone, then the red and blue dots from his email and social apps. He cleans them up silently and finishes his gin on the table with ice. He never drank before.

At the end of the lengthy date Lucerys drove the red Mustang to meet his mother at the restaurant. Rhaenyra Targaryen was in her early forties, and she wore a low-cut black dress. Their seats were next to the window, and Lucerys didn't like the neon light coming in from outside, so he pushed back his chair. Rhaenyra blinked in displeasure at this. She always used her eyes like that to suggest how she felt. Lucerys lowered his head, just as he had done in elementary school when he came home dirty from jumping in mud puddles for fun. Only now his shoes didn't have dried and caked mud on them, and Renila wouldn't order him to come back for dinner after a bath.

"You don't want to look at me, Lucerys." She said.

"I ...... I'm sorry." Lucerys replied.

"You should have felt that way from the beginning, instead of saying sorry to me now." Rhaenyra said, "I've asked you before, what were you thinking, Lou? Aemond is your uncle and my half-brother. And you both wanted to strangle each other."

"I'm not sure." He said, "Because then I realized he wasn't as bad as I thought he was."

"He was getting back at you. He was always getting back at you. He wanted to destroy you." Rhaenyra said, "He's as no good as his mother, Alicent. She only wants your grandfather's inheritance."

"Don't say that please."

"You're still taking sides with Aemond. But he never forgave you. I told you it was all his revenge on you. Revenge for you blinding him in his right eye."

"I don't want to talk about it, please." Lucerys replied.

Dessert was brownies. Lucerys was still haunted by what Rhaenyra had just said, even though she was telling the whole truth. Aemond teased him and his brother for not being their father's biological sons. Only Joffrey was there at first, so he was pushed off the bridge into the lake at the pier by Aemond. He was indeed an asshole. Lucerys knew this all too well, and didn't even regret accidentally stabbing Aemond in the eye when he returned fire. He shouldn't have tried to make it up to him. Lucerys thought with resentment. He had already wasted too much time on Aemond in his life. If he hadn't insisted, they wouldn't have seen each other so often, and perhaps he wouldn't have discovered that Aemond was far less unbelievable than he thought, and he wouldn't have uncontrollably desired him.

"You've taken the first step. That's good."

Lucerys coped vaguely. Confronting his mother had made him feel more helpless than ever. He had never been able to confess to her that he had begun to desire Aemond when he was fourteen in the pool. A few years later Lucerys learned to masturbate at night thinking about him. He used his memories of the summer in the pool to give vent to his desperate imagination of Ymund. He woke up as if he had been in a swimming pool, covered in dirty leaves and cold water mixed with sweat and disinfectant powder, feeling frustrated and resentful. When he was eighteen years old, Lucerys Rees gave Aemond a dark blue prosthetic eye as a birthday present, almost with malice. They ended up falling in love two months later. It wasn't until the two moved into an apartment and started living together that Lucerys discovered that Aemond smoked a Marlboro every week. He found his posture when he smoked surprisingly lazy and elegant. It was also the only time he could barely call himself "calm". "Men only remember love for romance. ¹" Aemond told him, "but we don't have romance or love. There's only lust and incest between you and me. Do you enjoy it all, Little Luke Strong?"At that time he felt like Aemond was a kite tied by a thin string and held under a glass cover. The string seemed like it would break at any moment. All Lucerys could do was listen in silence to his thunderous curses against Alicent and his brother, who complained that they were trying to drag him into a pointless struggle for his property. Sometimes Aemond was angry with Lucerys, and then continued to lie in the same bed with him as if nothing had happened, deliberately putting his legs on Lucerys.

Lucerys saw Aemond again after the tenth week of his untimely departure. He dreamed of him almost every night. What really alarmed Lucerys was that he found he could no longer clearly recall the details of Aemond's body. He couldn't recall the degree of depression in Aemond's shoulders, the touch of his pinky fingertips, the shape of his knees, or even accurately piece together his features, even as he tried to find them in the pleasure of masturbation. Lucerys crouched in the lavatory in despair, almost wanting to cry. He felt like what he had once had was drifting away from him as fast as if he were adrift at sea. He found himself sunken in the sockets of his eyes as he shaved the new stubble that had sprung up on his lips. His insomnia was getting worse.

After taking some time to calm down he called Aemond's brother Darren in as polite a tone as possible. The person on the other end hesitantly stated that Aemond hadn't been at their house at all. "Shouldn't he be with you all the time?" Darren said, "Mom's been pushing him to break up with you lately." With a shaky voice, Lucerys thanked him. He unconsciously began to smoke on the balcony until a pile of cigarette butts was added to the tiles laid on the floor. Like the first time Aemond had shoved a Marlboro into his mouth, Lucerys felt his lungs burning, but it made him slightly firmer. He knelt beside the bed and buried his face in the blanket, which was no longer covered with Aemond's breath. Then he went back to the bookshelf and ran his fingers across the spines, plucking them one by one out of the bookcase and onto the floor. Until the last one, the pink cover appeared in front of him. Lucerys pulled out "The Lady of the Camellias" carefully, it opened automatically to a certain page, and he found fingernail scratches on the paper. "And who am I tell you how to live. ²" Lucerys murmured. He was right, without the first half of the sentence, without love. He provoked Alicent with the Incestuous rebellion, and enjoyed it. Aemond Targaryen had always been like that.

For two months he was nowhere to be seen or heard from. Lucerys only received an anonymous card at Christmas, a simple folded green cardboard with the words "Happy Holidays" scrawled in blue oil-based ballpoint pen. He didn't know where it came from, but found it standing quietly in his Rolodex. But Lucerys recognized it as coming from Aemond by the unintentional crook at the end of the letter "M" and the "h." He thought about it over and over again that day. Had Ymund come to his office? Or had he just asked someone to leave it there? Had he done it to tell Lucerys that it wasn't over between them - or had he taken it as a terse farewell?

He had been up all night, repeatedly debating between turning on the TV, switching channels, and turning it off. He would not admit that he was actually dreading the overly quiet room, as it seemed to be a constant reminder of the fact that he was bored. In the early hours of the next morning Lucerys heard the doorbell. He went to the door and found Aemond standing in the doorway. He didn't look much different, except that he had grown his hair back and tied it behind his head, with his suitcase behind him. Lucerys stared at him unblinkingly.

"I lost the goddam key." Aemond said.

"The key can be replaced with another one." Lucerys said, "That's okay."

"I was not apologizing to you."

"I know."

"You want to sleep with me now, don't you?"

"I love you."

"Obviously." Aemond said. He started to take off his shirt. Lucerys stopped him. "That's not what I'm here for."

"Turn the light off, I don't want to see you."

Lucerys felt his approaching breath in the darkness and tried to kiss Aemond's lips, easily re-tracing the shape of his body in his mind's eye. His tongue met his teeth, and then another tongue. He held Aemond's nipples between his fingertips until they grew hard, and stroked over his ribs and abdomen again. It was like the night he came of age when they touched each other carefully for the first time in the wet night. His uncle took his wrist and slowly licked each of his fingers. Lucerys tasted smoke and blueberry chewing gum. He suddenly realized the room was too cold, but didn't get up to turn on the heating fan. The cold and the excitement made him feel awake rather than caught in yet another lustful dream. He was kneeling on a patchwork rug imported from Japan, pinning Aemond down with unprecedented firmness, then probing the index finger of his right hand into his rear hole and beginning to move in and out continuously. Aemond turned his head to the side. Lucerys felt his fingers being gripped tightly and pushed inward. He was as hot as fire. And one could feel pleasure in addition to pain when one was burned. When he was little, Lucerys tried to touch the lit candles on his birthday cake, but he was immediately burned and withdrew his hand. Not so, Aemond, he thought, I've always enjoyed burning myself.

"What the fuck are you crying about?" Aemond asked him, suddenly surprised. "It seems like you're not the one getting fucked. Are you crazy for wanting to fuck me?"

So he wiped the back of his hand across the area below his eyes and found himself in tears. They flowed inexorably and then fell on Aemond's body. He began to sob. Aemond hesitated and reached out and touched his forehead with a gentle gesture that Lucerys had never felt before. A faint glow came through the window behind them, which allowed him to see Aemond's face clearly. Lucerys observed the stiff pause in his right eye as he blinked. The prosthetic eye was beautiful on his face, blue in color. Lucerys remembered that they had not seen each other for seventy-four days. Seventy-four days ago he had sworn that he would be better off without Aemond. Instead, it turned out that losing him would only make things worse. During one of their arguments, Lucerys called him "the bastard Imonte Targaryen, who has turned my head," and Imonte just smiled contemptuously. "Of course I fucking know that." He grabbed Lucerys by the shoulders, "Violent Little Luke Strong." They ended up in a heckle. Finally Lucerys took him in his arms, the tip of his nose touching Aemond's left cheek. Aemond grunted and squeezed Lucerys' stomach. "I should have gone." That's what he told Lucerys then, "I should have gone to Philadelphia and left you alone in this hellhole to watch you languish like a downed dog."

Lucerys decided to close his aching eyes as he entered Aemond, at least that would make him look less wretched. But Aemond immediately asked him to open his eyes again. Lucerys began to move his loins slowly, and Aemond grunted as his legs clenched tighter. He took hold of Aemond's wet and sticky hands. Aemond rarely sweated. At least as far as he could remember his hands had never been as hot as this. There were times when he was as cold as a snake, or maybe he was just cold-blooded. But he groaned with pleasure when Lucerys found his high point by intuition. Lucerys lifted Aemond's hair to the side and he gripped his hand as if it were the last cable on a stormy ship. They kissed again passionately at the onset of their climax. Then they parted in silence, somewhat awkwardly. Aemond announced that he was going to take a shower. Lucerys found the tequila in the refrigerator and took down two more glasses from the cupboard.

"I shouldn't have come back." Aemond draped the bath towel over his shoulders. He took a sip of his drink.

"We can go to Colorado together, if you want." Lucerys said, "We can leave tomorrow. You can go alone, too, but at least let me know you're alive."

"That's not the problem." He slapped the tabletop in annoyance. The towel slid downward a notch. "I thought you knew I loved you too, Lucerys, you're so fucking extravagant, isn't that enough?"

"I never knew." Lucerys was starting to feel impatient, too.

"So that's why you drive me crazy with your stupidity." Aemond finished his tequila in one go and poured another glass full, "I wanted to go too. But unfortunately, I find I can't."

"I should say thank you, Right?" Lucerys wanted to hit him. He hadn't thought of it that way in many years. They had fought hard when he was seventeen: Aemond had punched him in the nose and Lucerys had elbowed him in the jaw, and they had laughed and accused each other when they talked about it, when Lucerys would have felt relieved. Now he only felt an unprecedented anger towards Aemond. He doesn't understand anything at all, Lucerys thought. Aemond never understood what he really wanted. Hell, he was a self-righteous fool. He should have realized the truth. It would have been so much easier if Aemond hadn't been his uncle and had been a woman. Maybe then they would have been married, or maybe then they would never have met. Now he couldn't tell which would be the better situation.

Two hours after dawn he began to count, until roughly an hour had passed. Lucerys got up and brewed a bowl of cereal with cold milk that was about to expire - the red carton with the smiling woman in the white headscarf that Lucerys thought would be more appropriate for the cover of the cleaner. He made more spices for mulled wine with cinnamon, cardamom, citrus and rosemary. Rhaenyra had suggested that he drink a glass of red wine before bed to help him sleep, and now he decided to heed that advice. Aemond sat across from him and repeatedly poked the bowl of cereal with his spoon.

"We should get a dog." Lucerys said.

"I hate dogs." Aemond said, "Noisy and a waste of money."

"You never thought anything wasn't worth spending money on."

"I'm different now."

"You haven't changed a thing."

"That's your inconsequential judgment."

"We need a dog. One of those sheepdogs."

"It's useless." Aemond pursed his lips, indicating he didn't want to continue the argument.

Lucerys also felt he had no need to argue with him any further. In the afternoon they drove the Mustang to the mall. To buy tomorrow's breakfast, like whole wheat toast and marmalade. He had made his shopping list in advance and added coffee beans to the last column before he left. Only to find that the piece of paper was missing. Aemond taunted him for his carelessness, and Lucerys tried his best to restrain his chagrin. He had sometimes found living with Aemond nerve-wracking in the past; now he was beginning to feel tired. Rhaenyra called him in the evening. He and Aemond were reviewing the menu at the steakhouse and had just decided on a lobster bisque.

"I saw you with Ymund." Rhaenyra's voice sounded worried and sad, "What did you say last time, you swore you'd give him up. Lucerys, you chose him over your family."

"Aemond is my family, too. He's my uncle."

"That's only 'half' family, too."

"He only came back yesterday."

"Jacaerys is right. You can't leave him anymore." Raynera sighed. Lucerys rubbed his hand against the red velvet-trimmed wall. I'm rotting, he thought, and Aemond is like marijuana, toxic and capable of addiction. He was suddenly so sad he almost choked, but couldn't say why. After Rhaenyra Targaryen discovered the relationship between the two of them Lucerys had also had a big fight with her. In fact, he had been used to playing the role of a good boy. That was the first time that Lucerys rebelled against her. He followed the rules and went to the school she thought was good, joined the clubs she thought were good, applied to the majors she thought were good, and then found the boyfriend that drove her the most crazy. Lucerys admits he got pleasure from her shock and anger at the time, but that didn't last long.

"I'm going to hang up." He said.

"No matter what, you'll always be my son, and I'll always be your mother." She said at last.

"I know." Immediately afterwards he hung up the phone.

After a long tussle Lucerys chose the rib-eye steak, and Aemond asked for the same. He knew Aemond hated spinach, so he ordered only the goose fat potatoes, even though Lucerys didn't like them himself. After eating, they wandered aimlessly through the mall. Lucerys saw a ring at the counter in the shape of a Mobius strip, meaning "infinite love", which he thought was ridiculous, but bought a pair anyway.

On the way back they encountered a serious traffic jam. Aemond kept pressing the fast-forward and fast-reverse buttons on the record player with his hand. Lucerys put his hand on his knee. He grasped his hand. The skin felt extraordinarily real.

"When are you planning to go to Colorado?" Lucerys asked Aemond.

"I didn't say I was going to fucking Colorado."

"No, you have to go. And it's going to be us together." His lips parted and closed as if the words were automatically popping out of his chest in a huge blossom in his throat. Don't you understand? Lucerys wanted to ask him. He knew that Aemond never cared about what was going on around himself, but it didn't occur to him that he couldn't even perceive the most superficial nature of their relationship. Even the little love we have left for each other. He thought as he counted the lines on the leather of the seat. Even though it had burned so brightly for a short time.

"We'll come back. We'll go back to the beginning." Lucerys continued.

Aemond scowled at him suspiciously, as if to make sure this wasn't just another malicious joke. Lucerys had enjoyed this pungent look from him in the past, but now it only showed his confusion and foolishness. "Back to what?"

"Back here, back where it started." Lucerys suddenly wanted to let out a laugh. He wanted to laugh hysterically at something, someone. His heart fluttered at the thought that it might be himself, but he immediately felt the pleasure of sobriety again. He had pretended to himself that everything was fine between him and Aemond, that the problem was simply Aemond's capricious stubbornness, including his unwillingness to forgive Lucerys. The root cause was never here. They were destined to be so long ago, because they were Targaryen and Valerian. Lucerys could always find excuses from other sources, but he also knew in his heart that it didn't work. Aemond was even more foolish than he was, and he didn't even have the slightest sense - his poor eye were always set on less than a few miles long. Now Lucerys was determined to tease out the truth, or at least make it clear to both of them where they stood.

"We'll repeat the same mistakes, just like the past over and over again without realizing it, just like this damned Mobius ring, back to the beginning again for a change." Lucerys Velaryon spoke the truth aloud to the windshield in front of him, raising his hand to show Aemond the ring he had just placed on his left middle finger -- a shimmering silver metal ring -- Aemond also had one on his hand --then slumped exhausted at the wheel and waited for the long line of cars that had formed to restart.

1. It is said that the brand name comes from the abbreviation of "Man Always Remember Love Because Of Romance Only".

2.The original is, "Who are you, tell me how to love, and who am I tell you how to live.

#asoiaf #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #lucemond #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #dance of the dragons #the dance of the dragons

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

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blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Four: The One With the Wine

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2629

"I'm telling you! I was standing right there, he could not take his eyes off of you! Buddy was one hundred percent into you." Gen laughed while tossing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth, chasing it with a sip of cherry wine.

Lily crossed her legs, shaking her head, tucking her hands into the oversized grey sweater she wore. Never in her life would she believe someone could be so taken with her. Especially someone who looked like Bucky. He was more than just a man, he was a whole different kind of breed. From the story, his eyes were able to tell. Or how his mannerisms gave away the constant anxiety coursing through him. Everything about Bucky told a story. The scruff that outlined his jaw, the perfect cut of his hair. He was the type of man Lily dreamed of, that most girls dreamed of. Rugged, mysterious, brooding. But his voice, soft, yet deep and gravelly. Perfection, in the eyes of Lily. And yet, she didn't know anything about him.

"You're delusional. we had a two-minute conversation where I spoke two words, maybe," Lily chuckled while pulling her sweatpant-covered knee to her chest, "There's no way in hell he was looking at me how you claim. It's just...nope. Impossible."

A groan escaped Gen's lips as Lily watched her throw her head back and lean against the arm of the couch, "Would you stop with your self-deprivation? Lily, you are beautiful! You have a beautiful son, a beautiful home, a too-good-to-be-true dog, and look like you should be a model," Gen chuckled, sipping her wine, "I never understood your ability to be insecure."

Lily answered with a gentle shrug. It was in her DNA, she supposed. She's always been insecure and down on herself. Her parents booked her in for counselling because just like her son, she too faced development issues. She never spoke, kept to herself. She'd busy her hands and mind with drawing, reading, and writing. It was later discovered her IQ was off the charts for her age. Eventually, she began to talk again, but she never believed herself to be pretty, or have an overall appealing personality.

It's what kind of made Gen and her work as a friendship. Gen was confident and carefree, living her best life and just taking it every day at a time. She never fretted about the future or focused on the past. And on the other hand, Lily was neurotic. Insecure. Living in the past, especially the years of emotional trauma from her ex-husband. She planned the future and tried to always ensure what would happen. The yin and yang of newcomers high school in long island. No one understood their friendship, or how it managed to stay alive. But it did, and it saved Lily from venturing into dark areas of her mind multiple times.

"We should text him!" Gen squealed while grabbing Lily's phone off the table

"You're funny. I don't even have his number, doe doe." Lily grinned, leaning back against a pillow as she watched Gen try to think of a retort.

"Noo, but Sam Wilson gave you his. Maybe, just maybe, he could give you Mr. Barnes’s number." Gen winked while typing in the blonde's password, pulling up the contact that lily had created for the falcon.

Rolling her forest green eyes, Lily pulled herself off the couch and towards the kitchen next to it. She poured herself another glass of wine before pulling out the blueberry pancakes she had grabbed earlier, watching as Gen's fingers typed feverishly on the iPhone 11 that Lily gratefully owned. Shaking her head, the blonde put the pancakes onto a plate and stuck them in the microwave for a minute. She could hear the clicking of Gen's fingers against the phone screen and a small chuckle escaped the girl’s plush lips.

"What're you doing? Typing him a whole novel?" Lily called, turning down the volume on the Amazon Echo that currently played nineties tunes.

"No, he's just fast at answering. Aaaand...I got the number!" Gen squealed and hopped off the couch towards the kitchen where Lily stood, "What should his name be? Hunky Bucky? Mr. Barnes?"

Rolling her eyes, Lily pulled the plate out of the microwave, taking the margarine out of the fridge, along with a knife and fork from the drawer beside the fridge. Whatever Gen was planning, Lily knew she wouldn't be able to talk her out of it. Whenever her best friend conjured a plan or set her mind to something, she had zero chance of getting in the way. Gen reached new levels of stubbornness when it came to these sorts of things. Especially Lily's love life. Gen has set her up on dates and different escapades...but Lily never took to any of the men. She never felt as though she could see it going anywhere.

"How about just Bucky? You could even add Barnes if it makes you happy," Lily sighed, a piece of blueberry pancake wedged into the side of her mouth. Leaning on her elbow, Lily cupped her chin in her hands, sipping her alcohol, watching as Gen continued to type, "What the hell are you typing?" Lily laughed, cutting up a few more pieces.

Gen merely replied with a simple shrug, "He thinks he's texting you. Bucky won't send you a text. But I said that you would not be making the first move."

"There are no moves being made!" Lily snapped and stole her phone back from Gen's grip, glancing at her messages, "I'm not looking for a relationship. I don't want one. I have all I need. Like you said, a beautiful son, a lovely home. great friends. A relationship would only create dysfunction and chaos."

A wave of silence rolled across the two. gen stared at the blonde in front of her, who was gripping the fork in her hands so tightly, her knuckles turned a sickly shade of white, with a tinge of green. A sigh escaped her lips as Lily dropped the fork back down onto the counter, running a hand down her face. Her green eyes avoided the stare that Gen was sending her way, a knowing look. One that let Lily know that she knew exactly what was going on inside of the blonde’s head, even when Lily herself didn't know. A strange ability Gen seemed to have, knowing what was repressed deep inside of Lily's subconscious.

"Lily-"

"Just drop it gen!" the young mom exclaimed while lifting her hands with clenched fists, "Please just drop it..."

"Okay...okay I'll drop it," Gen sighed, filling her glass once more with wine, "but Sam did mention you coming by? With Hunter? What was that about?" she wondered, crossing her legs as she took her seat on a stool at the counter.

Dropping her now empty plate into the sink, a small laugh escaped Lily's lips, "Sam offered to give Hunt a trip around the compound. Give him a tour of everything, meet everyone. Might ask Scott to grab him a bit early tomorrow and take him by."

Gen nodded. and the rest of the night went on like that. A bit quieter than before, due to the fact Lily's mind was still reeling from the small outburst earlier. They sipped their wine, finishing the two bottles. They both fell asleep in Lily's bed, both drunk and sprawled out. It was picturesque really. The two of them. An iconic duo to say the least.

-----

The next morning, a bright beam of light streamed through the sheer curtains of Lily's bedroom. Joey snoring gently beside her, his soft fur tickling her forearm. Sucking in a quick breath, the blonde reached her arm up to rub her eyes, before pulling herself up from her laying down position. She glanced around, noticing how Gen was nowhere in sight. Furrowing her brows, Lily turned to pick up her phone, noticing a text from her.

GEN

had to go to the cafe. spoke to Scott for you, you're picking hunt up at 1. love ya

Lily's eyes glanced at the time on her phone, 11:30. she had an hour and a half. Throwing her duvet off of her legs, startling Joey, she stood up. Her head pounded and she glanced to her right, noticing the empty wine glass from the night before. Chuckling gently, she picked it up and headed down the stairs towards her kitchen. Having nights alone with Gen typically helped Lily relax, make her calm those nerves that were constantly in a loop of anxiety and fear. But the slight argument they had the night before kept replaying in her head. She got so angry. As if finally, after all of these years, all of the trauma she faced in the name of love was coming to a head. That the heart Scott broke had yet to heal properly. Four years later, Lily still believed herself to be unlovable. Incapable of finding someone. Her deep subconscious believing that she had her one chance at love, and blew it.

A warm petal slid down the blonde’s cheekbone. Her bottom lip quivering. In an attempt to stop the shaking of the plush muscle, Lily bit down. Her breathing became shaky, her hands gripping onto the cool countertop so intensely that it mirrored the same shade as the night before. Gasps escaped her lips as she fumbled for a cup, leaning against the counters for support as she wandered over to the sink. Flipping on the silver faucet, the clear liquid ran into the cup. The moment she deemed enough, Lily chugged back the water. Her eyes relaxed and her breath steadied back to a regular pace.

When Lily finally regained the composure she needed to continue with her day, the blonde stood up straight. Glancing around the empty home, Lily's head dipped down so her chin gently rested on her collarbone. Pursing her lips once again, Lily sucked in the air around her through her nose. She dropped the cup into the sink and gave her body a shake, letting all of those feelings that just bubbled to the surface return to their rightful place deep within her. Where she didn't have to deal with them, and the people around her wouldn't see them. It was her way of hiding what she was truly feeling. and that's exactly what she wanted. To hide those fears, those doubts. everything.

She had to be strong, had to keep that facade up to maintain composure. She couldn't let Hunter see just how broken his mother was. Even though he may already know...she had to play ignorant just in case.

After scarfing down a croissant, Lily jogged up the stairs (much to her head’s dismay). Her start to the day was already hectic, and typically, that meant an extreme day ahead of her. Lily wasn't sure if she was all too prepared to handle that, especially after her little moment just moments ago. But she couldn't allow that small anxiety moment to consume her mind again, and destroy the rest of her day. She had sent a quick text to Sam, confirming the tour before placing her phone against the mahogany dresser she and Hunter had painted white. The dark green of her iris found itself staring back at herself in the mirror that was hung too carefully above the previously mentioned dresser.

She looked rough. Mascara smudged below her waterline, hair sticking out in three different directions. Her eyes were puffy and her lips were swollen, with a gentle tinge of scarlet displayed on the tip of her nose. Her chest heaved up and down, her neck expanding and retracting as her breathing continued to follow the path of relaxation. Almost instantly, she averted her eyes. No one wanted to look at a broken shell of a woman for too long, which became depressing. Especially when the said woman was nursing an existential hangover from two bottles of wine split with a person that could drink Captain Morgan under a table.

She pushed open the door to her closet and sighed. Maybe she did need a new wardrobe. She had been wearing the same dresses and shirts for years. She never had time to go shopping, or, when she did, she chose not to. Because shopping meant trying clothing on, which meant looking at her own body. The stretch marks across her hips, and the few that littered her stomach along with her belly button. Of course, these were caused naturally when she was pregnant, and because she’s grown from a baby. Regardless of how they came to be, Lily couldn't help but feel worse about herself with them. The pale pink shade they showed against her fair tone, making them prominent. That's why she never went shopping. Shame.

Lily changed into a cream-coloured lace spring dress with spaghetti straps and a brown leather braided belt, slipping a red cardigan over top due to the fact it was September, and there was a new cool breeze alongside the muggy heat. Her feet stepped into a pair of black flats before trudging to the bathroom. Checking the time, it read noon. She let out a sigh and picked up her can of dry shampoo, shaking the cool metal canister, causing a gentle noise to escape. Her morning routine was basic, but today she added the fact of cleaning the oiled up and overused makeup that stayed on her face from the night before. When she was done, she let out a sigh and quickly turned from the mirror, not looking at it once again. She fed Joey quickly, kissed him, then headed out.

time to pick up the boy that kept her going.

-----

Scott lived in Brooklyn, New York. He lived with the mistress that broke the horses back of their marriage and the daughter that was created out of it. Bitter wasn't the word she would use to describe how she felt towards the entire situation. Resentment, denial, those were better. The affair only made Lily more sure of her lack of worth. Not to mention how it broke all trust she had in the male sex or anyone that she dated. She hadn't had a relationship since Scott and hadn't even been physical with someone. A goodnight kiss, sure, but that's where it ended. Nothing more. She couldn't do it. And she one hundred percent blamed the father of her son.

Him and his new wife, Mary, aka the mistress, bunked in a two-story apartment near the edge of the area. It was a quiet area, but more urban and modern than the cozy and domestic vibe of Lily's area. That was a source of many arguments between the two as well. Scott preferred the non-stop of the city, while Lily preferred the privacy of the more so suburban areas of the city of New York. But now, the two were able to agree. She lived in a rural area, and he lived in the city. Was it a bit of a venture when it came to sharing custody of their child? Sure, but being divorced, the two didn't have a say in where the other lived.

Pulling into the driveway of her ex-husband’s apartment building, Lily turned off her car and pushed open the door. The heat hit her like a wave before the cool air broke down the wall the mugginess had created. Pressing the button to be buzzed in, the blonde rocked back and forth on her heels. When she heard the door unlock, she pushed through. After a few moments and one elevator trip, she reached the door of the apartment. Her fragile hand knocked, and seconds later, it busted open.

"Hey, Scott.”

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

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Sonata-First Movement

The dear @omgalyssag17 asked: hi i saw you have your requests open and was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a story where yoongi moves into a haunted apartment/house (human!yoongi x ghost!reader pairing). i like giving authors lots of room for creativity so let your imagination flow. And I did. So much so that the story will be told in three parts over the next three weeks XD I LOVED THIS PROMPT SO MUCH Series Summary: Yoongi travels to a lake house to get some work done in peace. While he is there he has several strange encounters that make him question his own sanity. AN: Y/N as a ghost is slightly neurotic at times because she hasn’t really had conversations with people in about ten years. She’s trying so hard to be a good hostess XD Series contains angst, humor (well I think so), and fluff. WK:5kish Day 1

Yoongi parked his car at the end of the gravel driveway. The drive up to the Lakehouse had been pleasantly uneventful. It was starting to get foggy though, so he was glad he had left Seoul when he did. He reached into his front pocket for the set of rental keys. They were neatly labeled: cabin, boathouse, boat.

The wooden front door opened easily although it creaked loudly. He decided to take a look around before bringing in his luggage and equipment. He was on a rare break from work. While the other members had gone traveling or home to spend time with their families, Yoongi had decided to get some work done. But he would do it away from the city. He told the Agency to find him somewhere nice and quiet. And with a piano. That last part proved to be more of a challenge, but they had discovered this remote cabin which had belonged to a pianist. The property had been listed as “for sale” for several years and the family decided instead to rent it out to at least recoup some money.

The air smelled slightly stale so he left the front door open and began to explore the property. It was a small 2 bedroom cottage-style lake house with large windows running along the back of the living room. The sliding glass door led out to a small deck, overlooking the lake. It was beautiful. Or at least it could be. Yoongi looked through the glass and could barely make out the lake that he knew should be there. The layer of fog was rolling in against an already grey sky, causing the horizon between the water and air to blend together into a monochrome greyscape.

There was a small kitchenette in the corner of the main room, and on the opposite side, a piano with a desk sat next to it. Perfect. A fireplace adorned another one of the walls, providing both a heat source and a beautiful focal point.

He continued to walk through the house, discovering the bathroom and two bedrooms. The larger of the two also had large windows and a sliding glass door. Yoongi shook his bangs out his face and stepped out onto the wooden deck. The deck was small and surrounded on most sides by built-in benches. There were also several empty wooden planters. Whoever had lived here must have enjoyed flowers or herbs, he mused to himself. He gazed out towards the lake where he was able to barely make out the boathouse. In addition to the stored motorboat, there was a kayak stacked against the boathouse and a rowboat tethered to the dock. Good, he thought. He doubted he would use the motorboat at all on this trip, so it was nice to have options. The steps down to the dock were made up of several twisty flights of stairs. He decided he would check out the dock tomorrow.

Yoongi went back through the house to get his equipment set up. When he came back, he discovered the front door had shut. Dammit, he thought and sat down with his armful of equipment, squeaking the front door open again. He placed his laptop and speakers down on the desk. Now to get his luggage and food bags. He knew there would be no delivery service out here. Hell, he’d be lucky to get cell service out this far. Which is one of the reasons he had decided to work out in the country. He knew he wouldn’t be distracted by his phone or by the members messaging him. It would truly be a break from everyone and everything. He grabbed his suitcase and used it to prop the door open and then took several trips out to the car to unload the bags of food he had bought on the way up.

Yoongi began to hum to himself while unpacking the food. Cold in the refrigerator, room temperature in the cabinets. He was a very neat person and was very satisfied when all of the groceries had been put in their place. He went back to get his suitcase from its place by the door. Yoongi scratched his head. His suitcase had been by the door, hadn’t it? Maybe he had wheeled it into the kitchen without thinking. He walked back over and looked around quickly, still not seeing it. Ok. Maybe he hadn’t brought it in from the car and just thought he had. He knew in the back of his mind that he had to have brought it in, because he was using it to hold the door open. Maybe it was on the front porch? He turned the corner and saw the suitcase sitting by the front door. He jumped a little bit and shook his head. Maybe he was more sleep deprived than usual and it was making him dumb. “What the hell?” he said out loud. He walked over and firmly grabbed the suitcase as though he was afraid it was going to wander off.

He turned on the light in the master bedroom and put away all of the clothes, storing the suitcase under the bed. Now, he could finally get some work done. After coffee. Coffee was an important step.

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

You sat over at the desk, observing the newest cottage guest. The delightful scent of coffee wafted through the air. There were several things you missed about being alive, and one of them was a nice, hot cup of coffee. Especially out on the back deck, first thing in the morning. You often wondered if you were actually stuck in hell; able to smell coffee and not drink it. You were able to see every person who trespassed in your house, but none of them could see you.

At least it looked like this guy would be a considerate guest. Too often it would be loud families with their ill-behaved children banging on your beloved piano. Sometimes it would be drunk fishermen. At least they could be entertaining. And they were also your favorite to mess with; they were never sure if there was a ghost or if they were drunk. Hilarious. Death had very few benefits but that was one of them.

You watched him pour himself a cup of coffee. Now that you noticed, it was very late to be starting a pot of coffee. He must be a night owl. You got up so he wouldn't sit on you. It always felt so weird when the living touched you; their solid body parts passing through your non-corporeal form. It didn't hurt but it made your body feel like it was being stretched in ways that it shouldn't be able to.

He sat the cup down and started to unpack what looked like headphones, a microphone, and some other things that you knew had to do with recording music. Oooo interesting, you thought. He was a very meticulous person. You had noticed the care he had taken into putting everything in its place even though you could tell he was eager to begin the task at hand. He plugged in the electronics and began to press some buttons. He put on his headphones and began vibin to some beats.

You frowned. You wanted to hear the music too. You reached over and gently flipped the bluetooth switch on his headphones off.

Yoongi stopped and took off his headphones. He looked at them with a concerned expression. That was so strange. He had charged them all last night. It didn’t even occur to him to check the manual power switch; there was no reason to. He frowned and placed the headphones on the desk. He dug the charger out of his bag and crawled down on the floor to plug it in.

You smiled as you watched him try to turn himself tiny. It was pretty cute. He slowly backed out of the space under the desk, and while still on his knees, pressed play. The lakehouse was filled with music. You felt the space in the middle of your body, where you once had a beating heart, relax. You hadn’t heard music in forever. You would occasionally play the piano, but most of the time it just made you too sad.

Yoongi took out his notebook and began flipping through it, trying to find the page he had been working on. You spied over his shoulder, trying to see what his project was. Notes? Lyrics? Ouch. You felt his hand go through your face as he raised his arm to run his fingers through his hair. Ok, ouch wasn’t the right expression, but it had surprised you nonetheless. He continued to fluff his hair several times. It was very fluffy, now that you noticed it. You wanted to touch it. You really tried to not be a creepy ghost. But you hadn’t had visitors in so long. And it looked so soft. You let yourself pet his dark, black hair.

Yoongi froze and looked behind him. His nose scrunched up as he turned his neck and looked above him, searching for the draft that had just blown his hair. Seeing nothing, he continued on with his work.

His hair was soft. You knew it would be. Alright, you decided, enough of being creepy. He seemed nice enough. You traveled over to the living room and laid down on the couch. Being dead was so boring.

Yoongi continued working and drinking coffee for several hours before deciding around 4 am to go to bed. This was a poor decision because there were no curtains in the lake house, and the sun came in at 7 am. He groaned and pulled a sheet over his face.

You laughed as you saw him wrestle with the too small sheet. He would pull it up, his feet would become uncovered. He would pull it down, and a sunbeam would fall directly onto his face. Poor guy. The next time he pulled the blanket up, you gently tucked the comforter over his feet. He didn’t even notice, he just let out a satisfied groaning sound as he rustled around trying to get comfortable. Finally, he was able to fall back to sleep.

Day 2

Yoongi woke up around noon. He scolded himself for not thinking of bringing an eye mask along. He was used to sleeping at strange hours, in a state of permanent jet lag, so he usually remembered to pack it. Oh well. He groggily shufflled to the kitchen and grabbed an iced coffee. The lake was beautiful this morning. The sun was shining and reflecting against the water. He decided to wash up and head down to the dock.

You watched him down the iced coffee like it was a lifeline. Did this guy know that drinking-water also existed? You wondered as you followed him around. You watched him look out over the lake while drinking the coffee. The corners of his mouth upturned as he looked out over the water. With a determined look on his face he went over towards the bathroom leaving you to hang out in the living room. You walked over to the desk area where he had left his stuff out. You decided to look through his notebook and found several pages of lyrics. He was really good, you thought as you flipped through. You took your time reading some of the pages and notes. You also saw some compositions written down as well.

Yoongi walked out of the bathroom wearing a towel and sopping wet hair. Since he was the only one there he hadn’t bothered to take his clothes into the bathroom with him. He walked out into the living room and saw his notebook jump off the desk. That’s weird. He thought as he walked over to pick it up and put it back on the desk. He ran a hand along the back of it to see if it felt extra slippery. No. He did the same to the desk. Weird.

You were trying to NOT be a creepy ghost and yet here was a hot guy wearing a towel in your living room. You looked around, where to go, where to go? You couldn’t go to the master bedroom, that’s where he would go next. You saw him bend over to pick up the notebook. If you had blood left in your body, you are certain it would all be rushing to your face right now. Must leave. You hastily made your way to the guest bedroom, carefully opening the door and stepping inside. You took a few deep breaths out of habit.

Yoongi sat the notebook down on the desk and heard a creaking sound coming from the other side of the cabin. The drafts in here were unbelievable, he thought and he headed to the bedroom to get dressed.

You kept yourself in forced isolation until you heard the sliding door of the living room open up. You peeked out the window and saw him making his way down to the dock. Finally, you thought, as you went back into the living room. Ever since you had heard the music last night you had been wanting to give it a go on the piano. You looked down at the dock to make sure he had made it before you took a seat at the bench and began to play,

Yoongi felt the sun shine down on his dark hair. He usually blow dried it, but between the hot sun and being on vacation, he figured he would let nature take care of it today. He sat down cross legged on the dock, looking out across the Lake. He could see a few other houses lining the perimeter and several patches of trees. The water lightly rippled, splashing gently against the rowboat. He looked over the side of the dock. It was shallow and he could see minnows swimming in the water that had been warmed by the sun. He smiled and took in a deep breath of the fresh air. He took out his pen and began to write.

You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed playing the piano. It had been probably about 6 months before you died. If you had to guess. Time is a funny thing. It speeds up as you get older. And once you’re dead, it’s like the blink of an eye. It wasn’t enough time. You sighed sadly. But, playing this music made you happy. It made you so happy that you had lost track of time until you heard the unmistakable sound of the glass door sliding open. You were pretty sure you were able to stop in time. You made a cringe face and turned to the door to see if your guest had noticed.

Yoongi stood extremely still. He had definitely heard the piano playing. Only for a second or two. But the sound was unmistakable. Maybe a mouse was in the dampers. He cleared his throat and walked over to the upright Yamaha. You stayed absolutely still as he reached over you, his face inches away. You didn’t have to hold your breath, you didn’t even breathe anymore, but you found yourself nervously worried about it. He smelled good. Stop being creepy! Yoongi opened the lid quickly, hoping to catch the mouse in action. No mouse. Strange, he thought, and closed the lid. He stepped back and eyed the piano suspiciously. Wait a minute. He looked at the sides and then he opened the lid once more. “Hmm? What’s this?” he reached in and took out a yellow, legal-sized envelope

You had forgotten about that.

He held the large envelope in his hands, inspecting it. He turned it around. There was nothing written on the outside but he could feel the contents inside of it. He bit his lip, unsure of what to do with this. He sat it down on the desk and headed to the kitchen to eat lunch.

You tentatively pressed your fingers against the envelope. You were surprised no one had found it yet. You were certain your family would have quickly sold the house, so you had placed the document somewhere safe. But no one had come to buy the house. Maybe because you had scared them away. The first few years of your haunting you hadn’t been quite as kind of a ghost. Time had mellowed you and allowed you to come to terms with your death. You looked over at the man who was starting to shake ramyeon packets and boil water. You gently tore the corner open and waited a minute to see if his curiosity would get the better of him.

Yoongi walked back over to the desk while he waited for the water to boil. Now that he looked harder he saw that the envelope had been opened ever so slightly. He felt a little odd, but decided to go ahead and open it. He carefully slid the contents out onto the desk. He saw a picture, sheet music, and a letter. He picked up the photo first. It was a picture of a young woman who looked to be about his age, sitting out on the back porch, petting a large yellow dog. She was looking off at the lake smiling and it appeared she hadn’t known someone was taking her picture. Yoongi looked out, holding the photo up in between himself and the window. He matched up the benches and planters perfectly. It was definitely taken here. The next thing he picked up was the sheet music. It was untitled and about 20 bars of music filled the sheet. He placed the music on the piano’s stand. He picked up the letter and began to read.

“I don’t think I’m going to have enough time to finish this composition. I really like it and I would love to hear it completed. I sit down every day and try to but the headaches are getting worse and it’s hard to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. I wish I had more time. But I suppose that’s to be expected, isn’t it? I thought there would be more time. I can only hope someone takes Barley and gives him a good home. Dogs don’t know about death right? Animals fear pain, not death. I fear both even though each gets worse and closer every day. As for the piano, I just hope it goes somewhere where it will actually get played by someone who loves it. I’m hoping my family finds this, but if you find yourself reading some random dying girl’s letter, please let my family know I tried to hold on for as long as possible. And I really tried hard to finish this. I just can’t anymore. Thanks for reading this. Whoever you are. Have a great day and remember: life is short. [y/n].”

Yoongi felt tears running down his face as he finished the letter. Jesus. Had this belonged to the girl who lived here before? He looked at the picture of the girl and the dog and flipped it over. “Me and Barley May 2010 BEST DOG EVER.” Yoongi gently placed the letter and photo on the corner of the desk and ran a hand along his chin and then his cheeks, wiping the tears quickly with the back of his hand.

You watched as he cried and felt bad. You had written that letter probably a week before you died. Maybe a month? It was hard to tell. Time passed differently when you were dead. And the last few days, weeks(?) of your life had not been easy on your body or mind. All you remembered was the instant feeling of calm and peace. At first. Until you realized for some reason you were trapped in the lake house. You watched him sit down quietly and look at your composition and put his fingers onto the keys.

He began to play. At first it was so soft you could barely hear it, but as he continued to play it got louder. You remembered the song so well. You were slightly biased, but you thought it was, “Beautiful.” you heard him say as he came to the end of the song. He sat like that for another few seconds and then played it again from the start. He picked up the music sheet and sat it down on the desk. He got up and moved over to the desk chair, taking out his. He started to copy the notes onto his notebook and then started to add notes to it.

Was he going to finish your song? You sat in awe as you watched him play with the chords and rhythm to try and figure out what would work best with what you had already composed. You sat down on the piano bench and watched his face as he concentrated on how to approach the music. The timer went off in the kitchen and Yoongi got up to assemble the noodles. He brought the hot bowl and chopsticks back with him, careful to not sit it on the desk. He read the letter again.

“Well, I’ll try to finish it for you,” he said. “But I don’t know if it will be what you would have picked.

You gave him a sad smile. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken to you. “That’s ok.”

Yoongi looked over towards the piano. He kept feeling something. Something randomly around him. And this time he had sworn he heard something as well. “I need to stop talking to myself, I’m starting to imagine answers.” He said, taking several more bites of noodles. You just laughed. A small tinkling sound. Yoongi got up and went over to the back porch to look for windchimes or something. Having found none, he shook his head and sighed. He quickly finished up his lunch and sat down next to you on the piano bench. He reached over for the sheet music, and then very delicately placed your picture next to it.

“Alright [y/n] let’s finish writing this composition.” he said as he gently placed his fingers on the keys. He played the song again, this time adding a few of the notes he had added. He was satisfied with a few of them but others he scratched out with his pen. He began again and again, trying to work through the bridge. You understood his frustration. This was the part you had gotten stuck on as well. You liked the few notes that he had successfully added. Suddenly, without thinking, you thought of what would sound good next and played a series of notes.

Yoongi sat there not moving. The keys to his left had definitely just played by themselves. And not random keys like a mouse on the dampers. They were notes that matched the song perfectly. What the hell.

You froze. Shit shit shit. You were going to scare this guy off. The only person who had actually spoken to you in a decade. You felt like you wanted to cry. Dammit [y/n] you scolded yourself. Yoongi was afraid to turn to his left. He knew it was silly. There wouldn’t be anything there, other than that feeling he kept getting in the house. He was going to make himself do it though. He very slowly turned his head and looked at you. At least, it seemed like he was looking at you. But from his perspective, he just saw the windows of the lake house. He let out a deep breath. “Here I am, afraid of ghosts.” He said out loud. “Well, if there is a ghost here, thanks. Those notes work well,” he said as he wrote down the keys you had pressed and then played them himself. The two of you stayed like that for about another hour before Yoongi decided he was going to work on another project. You decided to go out on the back porch and give him some privacy.

The rest of the evening Yoongi didn’t feel anymore of that warm buzzing sensation he had felt since his arrival. You had stayed on the back porch until it became dark to give him a break. You were so afraid earlier that you were going to scare him off. Usually you couldn’t wait for the guests to leave because they were annoying, but you wanted him to stay. He was nice and quiet, and cute, and working on your song, and cute. And oh my goodness, you thought listening to yourself. You had a crush on this guy. Ugh. You didn’t even know ghosts could get crushes. You sighed, once again bemoaning the fact that being dead was standing in your way. You didn’t get the chance to date much when you were alive. You went straight from University to writing music up at the lake. You thought your love life could wait until you had established your career more. Just another thing you had been wrong about. You sighed as you re-entered the cottage and saw Yoongi still sitting at his computer jamming away with his headphones on. Did he ever stop working?

Yoongi had worked on several projects that afternoon and was feeling very satisfied with the progress he had made. The earlier piano incident left him feeling a little skittish, especially now that it was dark outside. He wasn’t easily frightened, but as he thought back to the past two days, several incidents were very strange. He didn’t believe in ghosts. He told himself. Over and over again. Probably a little too much for someone to not actually believe in ghosts. He reached over to the piano stand and took the picture off the stand, sitting it down on the desk and running a finger down it.

If Barley was alive, he would be a very old dog by now, Yoongi thought. He wondered if the woman’s parents were the people renting out the lakehouse. He would have to have the Agency contact them and ask about her in a delicate manner so he could give them the documents. Yoongi stood up and stretched his arms over his head. He would usually make some coffee and continue working, but he found himself unusually tired and not particularly wanting to sit in the living room full of wide open windows and wide open spaces. He took his phone and a drink into the bedroom. There. If you’re under the covers, ghosts can’t get you, He found himself thinking. I’m so stupid. There’s no such thing as ghosts. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” He said out loud, like that made it more real. You just laughed. Yoongi froze. That tinkling sound again. Ok. It was time to pull the sheet over his head and go to bed. Which he did.

You felt bad and resolved that tomorrow you would be quiet, and not touch him, and not have impure thoughts about him. You would try so very hard. But, for a few minutes, you were going to watch him sleep. Just a little. Ghosts are allowed to be a little creepy.

Day 3

Yoongi woke up around 9 in the morning. It was raining outside. He felt his shoulder ache; the joint affected by weather ever since his accident. He groaned. He was hoping to take the rowboat out today but it would have to wait. He stayed in bed for a while, checking his phone even though he knew the reception made it almost useless.

He walked out to the kitchen and started to make the coffee without thinking. Wait a minute. He hadn’t set the coffee and filter out. He knew he hadn’t. And yet when he came out, the carafe, water, filter, and coffee were all laid out in a nice row.

See? You didn’t want to be creepy or scary. You wanted to be helpful. Yoongi let out a deep sigh, trying to fill himself up with bravery. “Whoever is here needs to stop messing with me. My head is fucked up enough without thinking I’m actually going crazy as well.”

Oh. You thought the coffee would make him happy but instead it had made him upset. You pouted. What could you do to make him not afraid? It was difficult being a ghost. You walked over to the piano and decided to play a nice happy song for him. Something not scary at all. You began to play the tune of “You are my Sunshine.” No one could be scared of that song. No one. Except apparently Yoongi was.

“Ahhh….” he let out a tiny scared sound. He looked over at the piano playing by itself and covered his ears and headed for the front door. He opened it and stepped outside into the rain. Shit. Shit. The piano is playing by itself. He thought. Shit. It’s raining. No. It’s pouring. The awning over the front door was very small. He ran over to the car to try and get inside but he had locked it. He scolded himself. This was the country, why the hell did he lock his car? Who was going to take it. Shit. He couldn’t walk anywhere else. He would have to go inside and get the car keys. He walked back to the front door and pulled on the knob. It was locked. SHIT he had also locked the bottom lock out of habit last night and hadn't unlocked it in his haste to get out of the house. Wet, scared Yoongi paused for a moment and laughed. This was ridiculous. The whole situation. He wiped his wet face with his hands and ran his fingers through his soaking wet hair.

You sat there feeling very sad. You had just tried to help. You felt like the two of you really shared a connection through the music, and he had talked to you, and you sat out coffee for him, and played a very cute song. Why was he being such a scaredy cat? And why was he still outside? It was pouring and his car keys were sitting on the fireplace mantle. A minute later you got your answer as you saw a very wet Yoongi at the back door. He was absolutely soaked.

Yoongi arrived at the back porch. Surely he hadn’t locked all of the sliding glass doors. He looked in through the windows and was shocked to see the profile of a girl sitting at the piano. Oh God. There was someone actually in the house. What if the girl wasn’t the only one? What the hell was going on? Yoongi felt his heart beat racing in his ears.

You got up, slightly annoyed by the fact he would rather be in the pouring rain than hang out with you and walked over to the door, opening it ever so slightly. Maybe he wouldn’t notice and think it was the wind. Or maybe he believed in ghosts now, you sighed.

Yoongi watched the woman through the fogged up windows walk over towards him and open the door just a crack. He heard her let out a deep sigh like he was being annoying. He opened the door the rest of the way and slowly walked inside.

“Wow you look even better when you are soaking wet,” you mused from your spot by the fireplace mantle.

Yoongi shook his hair out of his face and looked over at you, “Thanks, but who are you and why are you here….” His eyes widened as he was finally able to see clearly.

Your eyes also grew wider and you looked behind you to make sure he wasn’t speaking to anyone else. You looked back at him, “You can see me?”

Yoongi slowly nodded his head. The woman definitely looked like she could be twins with [y/n] from the photograph. “Of course I can, you’re ogling me from the fireplace.”

#yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #yoongi x reader #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #bts suga x you #suga x reader #suga x you #ghost romance #bts suga #bts yoongi

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darriness · 4 years

Text

Klaine Fic - 3 on 1

Author: darriness

Word Count: 19352

Summary: What happens when triplets each find the potential love of their lives...in the same person?

Author’s Note: This author's note is a little long but I ask that you read it all :) Welcome to my story for the Glee Potluck Big Bang! I've had this story finished for a couple of months so I'm over the moon I'm getting a chance to post it a little early! The original idea for this fic came from a conversation I had with @ipwarn when I discovered that Darren Criss, Alex Brightman, and Henry Golding share the same birthdate. But, saying that, Blaine is still Blaine in this story (he's not Darren) and for Alex and Henry I used parts of their real life inspirations' general appearance as reference but they are completely made up characters. Most notably, and the reason I wanted to say anything, I know Henry Golding is actually Malaysian but Henry in my story is half Filipino. Lastly but definitely not least I would like to thank @imrights for the AMAZING title art above that I am completely obsessed with. And as always I would like to thank my fantastic beta @darrenismydarcy - I could not do any of this without you!! I hope all of the above makes sense! Enjoy the story! I, selfishly, love it a whole lot!

AO3 Link

3 on 1

What do you get when you mix an Asian banker with an Irish elementary school teacher?

Henry, Alexander, and Blaine Anderson.

That? Is Alex Anderson’s favourite joke to tell. It’s caused his brothers to roll their eyes more times then they can count but Alex still gets a kick out of it.

Now, Henry, Alex, and Blaine aren’t JUST brothers. I mean sure, looking at them you probably wouldn’t even be able to tell they share ANY genetic makeup. They are as different as different can be.

Henry towers over his brothers at just over six feet, for one. Blaine and Alex try to pass themselves off as five nine but...they’re five eight on a good day. Alex got all his features from his Irish mother. He’s as white as can be. Literally. His brown hair and brown eyes are the only things keeping him from being part of the Arian race…

Henry, on the other hand, is the spitting image of his Filipino father. His angular features, slightly slanted chocolate brown eyes, and deep chestnut hair are a proud marker of his Asian heritage.

And then there’s Blaine. A complete mix of them both. Growing up, he had to fight (once physically) for people to understand that he is half Asian. Unlike Alex (who to this day gets the quirked eyebrow when he tells people he’s half Filipino and will sometimes, depending on the company, not even bother to mention this fact), Blaine does have Asian traits. It’s just that he has enough caucasian traits to ‘trick’ the more ignorant population.

In the end, not only are these three completely different men brothers...they actually share the exact same birthdate.

Growing up as a triplet was an interesting experience. One that can only truly be understood by those who, themselves, grew up as a multiple.

For example, there really isn’t a way to explain the special kind of connection that sees one triplet farting on the head of another triplet while the third triplet holds him down.

Which is how we find the Anderson triplets now.

“Oh my God, get the fuck off of me!” Henry shouts, trying to bring his hands up to block the assault.

Alex laughs from somewhere above him, letting out a sigh as he completes the job, before moving from his straddle position.

“You can let him go, Blainers.” Alex says to Blaine who had been holding Henry’s shoulders and arms down.

Blaine releases Henry who immediately shrugs him off (like he had been the one to break the hold) and sits up, “I expect this shit from him,” Henry says, pointing to Alex, “but not from you.” He concludes, pointing to Blaine.

Blaine shrugs, “He had a justifiable reason.”

Henry rolls his eyes before shifting on the couch and picking up some of the papers in front of him. He’s got work to do. He’s not even sure why he agreed to have his brothers over to his apartment on the eve of potentially the biggest meeting of his career.

“So, we need to talk about what we’re going to do for Tiny’s bachelorette.” Alex says, sitting down on the other couch and picking up his beer. HE doesn’t have a high stress meeting in the morning.

But, right. That’s why they’re here. To discuss their little sister’s upcoming nuptials.

“We’re not her bridesmaids OR her maid of honour.” Blaine reminds, “Isn’t our job to go with the guys when they take Sam out?”

Alex stares aghast when Henry shrugs and nods along with the suggestion, “Ummm no!” Alex shouts, indignantly, “This is our baby sister’s wedding. Our ONLY sister’s wedding. If it’s not her big brothers’ job to take her out and get her drunk and danced upon by random strippers then I don’t know whose job it is.”

Blaine and Henry stare at their brother in silence for a moment.

“Ummm, it’s literally anyone else’s job but ours.” Henry says.

Alex rises slightly from his seat and sits down with an emphatic exhale, “You can’t be serious!” He exclaims, “To quote a very neurotic man ‘I expect this shit from him,” He says pointing at Henry, “but not from you.’” He finishes, pointing at Blaine.

Blaine’s eyes go wide and Henry can tell that Blaine’s people pleasing nature is taking a serious hit tonight. If there’s one thing Blaine Anderson can’t stand, it’s people not liking him and being disappointed in him.

“We are her *brothers*.” Alex emphasises again, “I think she’d be really hurt if we didn’t do something for her.”

Henry sighs, “But does that ‘something’ have to include naked men?” He asks, even though he already knows he’s going to agree to whatever Alex has planned. That’s how their relationship works and always has. Alex comes up with the crazy schemes, Blaine goes along with pretty much anything to stop people from being upset with him, and Henry usually acquiesces because if not...the other two would probably end up in jail.

Alex smiles like he knows he’s close, “Come on. You don’t think Tiny would get a kick out of naked men dancing for her? And besides, Blaine and I will enjoy it just as much!” He waggles his eyebrows lewdly. Alex really is a charismatic, nice guy...once you see past the frat boy exterior.

Henry sighs again as he shuffles his papers. He could mention that while Blaine and Alex (being gay and pansexual respectively) would get a kick out of a male strip club, he (as a straight man) probably wouldn’t. But...in the end he loves his brothers and sister too much to refuse…

...especially with Blaine now fully on board and the two of them looking at Henry like he has the keys to all of their hopes and dreams.

“Oh, fine.” He grumbles, even though he smiles.

The other two cheer and Henry rolls his eyes as they begin to make plans and he goes back to his notes.

-- -- --

Blaine leans over and gives Alex a brief hug as their cab pulls up in front of Blaine’s apartment later that night, “Night Al.” He says.

Alex smiles, “Night Blainers.”

Blaine’s got one foot out of the cab when Alex calls his name. He turns and raises a questioning brow at his brother, “Don’t forget to check your Tinder.” He waggles his eyebrows much like earlier. Alex spends a lot of his time waggling his eyebrows.

Blaine chuckles and rolls his eyes, “It’s not Tinder. It’s just...a regular dating app.”

Blaine’s not ashamed of the fact that he’s trying online dating. He’s a 26-year-old single man in New York City and at least half the world is online dating. It’s worth a try. And it’s not like he’s Alex who trips and falls (sometimes literally) over a new sexual partner almost every day or Henry who is married to his job. He’s just covering his bases.

Alex smiles, “Well, just be sure to check it. And remember, only swipe right if it looks like they have a big penis.”

Blaine rolls his eyes again before giving his brother the middle finger and getting out of the car. He stands on the curb as the cab pulls into traffic on its way to Alex’s apartment ten minutes away, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket after getting hit with the wind of a late September evening chill.

When the cab turns a corner and is no longer in sight, Blaine turns and makes his way into his apartment building. It’s not the most posh of buildings but it’s comfortable. It’s home. And Blaine is proud of the fact that he is able to afford it without having to rely on his parents’ money. They’ve offered, sure, but Blaine has never wanted to rely on his parents that much.

His building is quiet this late at night and Blaine doesn’t pass a single person on his way to the fifth floor. He lets himself into his apartment, toes off his shoes, hangs up his jacket, and throws his keys into the bowl on the front table before making his way to the couch and collapsing onto it with a sigh.

Despite his eye roll at his brother, the first thing he does upon sitting down is check his dating app, ConnectSingle. It’s definitely not Tinder, no swiping of any kind required, but Blaine enjoys the fact that both parties need to indicate interest (by clicking a happy face on their basic profile) before they can contact each other or even view their whole profile. And while he feels like it’s slightly shallow, Blaine has definitely used that function to weed out some of the less...aesthetically pleasing requests.

He’s actually only communicated with three guys so far and only met up with one in person (...it didn’t go well), but he’s optimistic he’ll find someone he can really connect with. And if not? Well, he hasn’t really lost anything in trying.

He first checks to see who has given him a smiley face today. Three men seem to enjoy the picture Henry had taken of him on the beach, sunglasses reflecting the ocean and curls loose and billowing in the wind, and he considers each of their pictures before deleting them all. He feels slightly bad but figures if you sign up to online dating not expecting to be rejected sometimes, you’re doing it wrong.

He then flips to his ‘daily matches’ - men the app thinks he might like. He hems and haws over their basic profiles and decides to smiley face two; a redhead named Andy (who appeals to the side of Blaine that enjoys larger men) and a brown haired man named Kurt (who has great hair, great eyes, and a smirk Blaine may be interested in knowing more about).

It’s not as immediately satisfying as he would like it to be, clicking the smiley face. Nothing happens other than a yellow smiley face rises slightly above his thumb and then winks out, leaving a static yellow smiley face behind, but he feels accomplished.

He closes the app and stretches on the couch, glancing at the clock to notice it’s almost 1 am. He doesn’t have anywhere immediate to go in the morning, perks of being an on call studio musician, but figures just in case he gets a call he should go to bed.

Without thinking of ConnectSingles again, he goes about his evening routine, plugs his phone in and is asleep twenty minutes later.

-- -- --

Alex could go home. It’s where he told his brother and, more importantly, the cab driver he’d be going. But as the cab driver pulls away from the curb he gets a text from his friend, Elliott, telling him he should meet him at a bar.

Alex shrugs and tells the cab driver to change his final destination. It doesn’t take much to convince Alex to go out.

When he gets to the bar, he finds Elliott leaning against the brick front wall. He’s got a foot propped up behind him, a bare knee poking out of ripped black jeans, and a cigarette burning from his lips as he looks down at his phone.

“I must reiterate - as a performer you really shouldn’t smoke.” Alex says by way of a greeting.

Elliott looks up from his phone and smirks as he pulls the cigarette from between his lips, “Old habits die hard.” He says with a shrug before flicking the mostly unsmoked cigarette to the ground and pulling Alex into a hug, “Good to see you, man.”

“You too.” Alex says returning the hug, “Any particular reason you dragged me out of bed on this cold night to meet you at a bar at 1 am?”

Elliott rolls his eyes, “If you were in bed, I promise that was the last smoke of my life.”

Alex purses his lips to hide his smile before sighing, “Damnit, fine, I wasn’t in bed.” Elliott laughs and puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder, pulling him forward into the bar.

The noise from inside the bar gets unsurprisingly louder as they enter but luckily not so loud that it makes talking impossible. They may have to raise their voices slightly to be heard but Alex knows he won’t be leaving with burst ear drums.

“We were just having a really great night and I thought you should be a part of it.” Elliott explains.

Alex nods, enjoying that Elliott thought to include him, “We?” He asks as they make their way to the bar.

Elliott shrugs, “Just a bunch of people from the theatre.” He calls.

It’s not wall to wall packed in the bar but it’s busy enough that Alex accidentally runs into someone on their walk from the door to the bar. He ‘oofs’ at the impact and then is immediately apologetic as the person he hit turns around.

The words die on his lips when a set of cool blue eyes make eye contact with him. An eyebrow is quirked above those eyes and pink lips wrap around a straw as they regard Alex. Alex notices the slight pull in of the cheeks attached to the lips as they suck up liquid.

He’s broken from his stare when Elliott laughs, “Alex? Kurt. Kurt? Alex.”

Alex feels Elliott pat his shoulder a few times before the other man is gone, leaving Kurt and Alex still looking at each other. Alex watches as Kurt’s tongue flicks out to play with the straw still between his lips and Alex is transfixed.

“Hi.” He breathes, suddenly wishing he had worn a better outfit to Henry’s than his faded jeans and white button up shirt with tiny rubber ducks on it.

“Hi.” Kurt answers back with a smile.

-- -- --

Henry fidgets the next morning as he sits outside the office the nice receptionist directed him to. His knee bounces and he shuffles through the papers in his folder, wishing he could stop the sweat he can feel building under his suit jacket.

He’s prepared, he knows he is, but a job interview for a large production company is a lot different than working out of a one room studio with guys you went to college with.

Henry checks his watch and realizes he’s probably got another ten minutes to wait - he’s always extremely early to all things, something he wishes he could teach his brother.

As if summoned by Henry’s thought, his phone buzzes in his pocket and a text from Alex pops up.

Alex

You got this brother! Now I’m going back to sleep.

Henry chuckles softly and doesn’t bother to respond. Alex is probably already asleep again.

He’s still looking at his phone when a second text comes in, this time from Blaine.

Blaine

You are more than ready for this, Henry. Call me after to let me know how it goes.

Henry smiles at the texts on his screen and feel bolstered by their support. He texts Blaine back to thank him and tell him he will call him after, before pocketing his phone and going back to bouncing his knee.

“Can I...get you something to drink?” A hesitant voice asks to Henry’s left.

He jumps slightly and turns to find a well dressed man with high chestnut hair and a soft smile looking at him like you might a spooked animal.

Henry chuckles and can feel his cheeks blush slightly in embarrassment at how ridiculous he must look, “The receptionist already offered and I’m good. But thank you.”

The man nods but doesn’t immediately depart. Instead he continues to look at Henry with a calculating expression, “Job interview?” He asks, finally.

Henry bites his lip, “Is it that obvious?”

The man shrugs and gestures to the seat next to Henry. Henry also gestures to the seat with a nod and the man sits, crossing one long leg over the other, “I don’t think anyone else would notice. I just recall with ridiculous clarity my own nerves when I interviewed for a job here.”

Henry nods, “But obviously it went well for you.”

The man seems to preen, his swooped hair swaying slightly as he shakes his head and Henry finds himself smiling, “Obviously.” The man says and while it should come across as cocky, it doesn’t and Henry finds his nerves easing. The man smiles and holds out a hand, “Kurt.” He says.

Henry takes the hand and shakes it warmly, “Henry.”

Kurt smiles, “Well, Henry, what do you say I take you out for a coffee to celebrate after your interview?”

And suddenly Henry is nervous again but this time it has nothing to do with his interview.

-- -- --

Blaine stretches like a cat in a sun spot and hums as he squints at the bright sun shining through his bedroom window. He loves to wake up to the sun.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand and he rolls over to grab it. He’s got three notifications on his phone. One is a text from Alex sent at 3:43 am.

Alex

Duuuuuude you will not believe the night I’ve had!

Blaine chuckles and figures texting Alex back now would yield no fruit. It’s only 9 am, Alex would be asleep for hours yet.

The second notification is reminding him that Henry has a job interview this morning. He silently thanks himself for setting the reminder and quickly shoots a text to his brother for support.

The last notification is from ConnectSingle. Blaine has a match! It’s not quite as exciting as it was when he first got the app but he’ll admit to a tiny thrill going through him at the prospect of mutual interest. He wonders if it’s Andy or Kurt from last night or one of the other people he’s smiley faced in the past.

He thumbs open the app and notices first that Andy’s name is no longer on his ‘pending’ list which means the other man deleted Blaine’s profile. It stings a little but then he smiles when he sees a green smiley face next to Kurt’s name and picture (indicating a reciprocated interest) and an email attachment. He presses the email and settles back against the pillow to read what his new match has to say.

Blaine,

Hi! My name’s Kurt. Though I guess you already knew that... (Blaine chuckles softly) Anyway! Thank you for ‘smiling’ at me. You have a great actual smile :) I’d be interested to learn more about you - your profile says you’re a musician? Message me back if you’re interested in chatting!

Kurt

It’s simple but it still makes Blaine kicky feet just the tiniest bit under his blankets. He bites his lip and reads the message again before opening a reply box and typing his own message back.

Kurt

Hello! It’s great to ‘meet’ you. You also have a really great smile and might I add you have stunning eyes (is ‘stunning’ too much for a first email?) I am a musician! I’m a freelance studio musician, which, believe it or not, makes me a pretty decent living. Your profile says you like cars - Driving them? Working on them? Sitting in them? (I promise not to judge if it’s the last one). Hope to hear from you soon!

Blaine :)

As always, Blaine reads his message four times before hitting send and then rereads it again for any stupid things he may have said. He’s pretty happy with what he sent though and as he heads to the shower he’s already anticipating Kurt’s response.

-- -- --

“You are a God among men!” Alex exclaims as he walks out the front entrance to his apartment building later that afternoon to find Blaine standing outside with a coffee cup extended in one hand.

Blaine chuckles as his brother takes the cup, slings an arm around his shoulder and noisily kisses his cheek, “Well, I figured you would have just gotten up.” Blaine says as the pair start to walk down the street.

Alex hums around a sip of delicious coffee before nodding, “Within the last hour.”

“I still don’t understand how you can sustain this lifestyle.” Blaine says with a shake of his head. He knows that, out of the three of them, Alex relies most heavily on their parents to make ends meet and that his job as an evening bread baker at a small bakery means he doesn’t work typical hours (though who is Blaine to talk?) but sometimes he worries that Alex isn’t taking care of himself as well as he could.

Alex fidgets with the beanie he has on over his undoubtedly messy brown hair and shrugs with an easy smile, “Hey, man, when it works, it works.”

Blaine nods to concede the point, for now, as they round the corner on the street the bakery Alex works at is on, “So, what was so unbelievable about your night last night?”

Alex perks up at the mention and seems to skip along next to Blaine, “I met someone!”

Blaine rolls his eyes affectionately, “You are always ‘meeting someone’.”

Alex nods but smacks Blaine lightly, “I know but this guy is different. He’s...amazing!”

Blaine smiles, “Well, I’m happy for you.” He says, “Are you seeing him again?”

Sometimes, Blaine gets jealous over how easily Alex meets people. Granted as a pansexual, his pool of potential partners is larger than Blaine’s, but there’s just something so magnetic about Alex and he doesn’t seem to have any insecurities holding him back.

Alex presses his lips together and nods, “Tomorrow night!”

Blaine tries not to let his shock show. For as often as Alex hooks up with people, he usually doesn’t see the same person more than once. Blaine has asked that question of Alex a lot and usually gets a shrug and a ‘probably not’. Now, Alex seems genuinely excited.

“That’s amazing. Did you sleep with him last night?” Blaine asks as they come to a stop outside Alex’s work.

“Now, Blainers, you know a man does not kiss and tell!” Alex scoffs but then smirks, “But...there was kissing.” And there is the eyebrow waggle.

Blaine laughs, “Well, you’ll have to keep me updated.” He says.

“Speaking of updated,” Alex says, “Have you heard from our enigmatic big brother today about his interview?”

Blaine furrows his brow, “Not since before it happened. I told him to call me afterwards.”

Alex pouts his lips thoughtfully, “Maybe it went so well he had to go home and masturbate to his work success.”

Blaine half laughs and half groans, “That is not a visual I needed.” Alex shrugs with a chuckle, “But I’ll message him and find out how it went. Have a good shift. I’ll see Friday at Mom and Dad’s?”

Alex nods, “Okay, let me know what he says.” Because texting Henry himself would be too much work?, “And you sure will see me Friday, baby brother!”

Blaine rolls his eyes again, “I am not the baby!”

Alex clicks his tongue and shrugs, “Last one out is always the baby.”

“I am literally one minute ‘younger’ than you.” Blaine huffs complete with sarcastic finger quotes.

“And what a glorious minute it was.” Alex says with a wistful sigh and then dodges when Blaine tries to hit him in the head.

Alex waves without further ado and then heads into the bakery to start his shift, leaving Blaine on the sidewalk to pull out his phone. He’s about to open his text app to message Henry when a red bubbled one by the ConnectSingles app draws his attention.

He opens it with a giddy flutter of his stomach to find a new message from Kurt. He starts walking down the crowded street while he opens the email to read it (he’s lived in New York all his life, he’s an expert at phone reading and dodging people at the same time).

Blaine,

‘Freelance studio musician’ sounds fascinating. Do you know how to play a lot of instruments? As for my interest in cars, it’s all about working on them (who enjoys just sitting in cars? :P lol). My dad owns a garage in my hometown and I’ve been fixing cars since I could hold a wrench. I think he secretly wanted me to take over the business but fixing cars was always a hobby, not a vocation for me.

...Is that an overshare for a second message? I’m fairly new to this online thing. If it is, pretend I didn’t say anything.

Musicals! (I’m very good at subtly subject changes…) Are you a fan of musicals? I don’t like to assume just because a person is gay but I love musicals. They’re a big part of my life. So, I like to know right off the bat if I’m talking to a like minded person.

Talk soon?

Kurt

Blaine can feel the goofy smile on his face and isn’t sure why he feels the need to try and tamp it down. It’s New York City, there are way weirder things happening than a guy smiling down at his phone. He can’t get over how adorable Kurt seems just from two messages. He usually likes to play it slow, wait a while after receiving a message before messaging back but he opens the return message box immediately and crafts a response at the next stop light.

Kurt

I do know how to play a lot of instruments. I’m kind of a jack of all trades but master of none type? My parents put me in piano when I was kid and it’s actually the only instrument I’m classically trained in. Everything else I just picked up along the way. I think my parents secretly wanted me to be a concert pianist but classical music was always more a hobby than a true vocation for me (I don’t think you overshared but just in case you still think you did...I thought I’d ‘overshare’ back :)

I absolutely love musicals! Don’t ask me to pick a favourite, I simply couldn’t. Do you have a favourite? Let me guess...Wicked? You strike me as someone who would really appreciate the brilliance of Idina and Kristin. But maybe I’m wrong - I’m happy either way!

Blaine :)

P.S. You said your dad has a garage in your hometown? Where’s that? I grew up in Manhattan myself.

Blaine’s almost home by the time he finishes typing and he hits send before he can second guess himself. On his way up the stairs, he dials Henry’s number only to have the phone go to voicemail. Blaine’s brow furrows as he gets to his apartment. It’s not like his brother always picks up the phone when he calls, it’s just unusual when he doesn’t.

Shrugging, Blaine texts Henry to get him to call him back when he has a moment and then he starts about making dinner. He tries very hard not to check his phone compulsively for a message from Kurt.

-- -- --

Henry is in the middle of an existential crisis.

He hates to think of it as such. Out of his brothers he’s the level-headed one. Always has been. Blaine has an existential crisis every second week and Alex is too laid back to have anything resembling a crisis of any kind about anything ever. But Henry is always the one who thinks things through. Who sees pros and cons and the black and white of everything and comes to a logical conclusion about all things...

...this afternoon had felt anything but logical or black and white…

He’d walked out of the two hour interview with shaking hands but a smile on his face and a contract in his pocket. He was elated if not a little shaken by the whole experience. He’d almost bumped into Kurt standing just down the hall from the room the interview had taken place.

“So?” Kurt had said with a hopeful expression, “Are we coworkers? Am I taking you out for celebratory coffee?”

Henry had smiled at the man and nodded, “They offered me a job.”

Kurt’s face had lit up and while Henry’s first thought had been to wonder why this virtual stranger was so invested in whether he got a job or not, Kurt’s obvious joy made Henry’s joy that much more palpable.

“Well, then, shall we head to the coffee shop? Drinks on me, obviously.”

And then he winked.

It had hit Henry suddenly, and probably would have hit him sooner had he not been so worked up about his interview, that he was being hit on. It hadn’t been the first time he’d been hit on by a guy and he likes to think even if he didn’t have one gay brother and one pansexual brother that he would have been evolved enough to not be offended or hostile but usually when faced with this situation he would smile politely and say he wasn’t interested.

At that moment, however, he hadn’t wanted to say ‘no’...so he hadn’t.

“That sounds great.” He’d smiled.

Their coffee date had been amazing. Henry had spent the first hour after getting home trying to tell himself it hadn’t been a date but has come to the acceptance part of his crisis. It had been a date. A date with a man. A date with a man he’d actually enjoyed.

Kurt had bought the drinks and then the pair had sat across from each other at the small coffee shop talking about the job Henry had just gotten and what Kurt did for the company (he runs costume design for the theatrical branch of the production company). They talked about musicals (Henry had actually mentally thanked Blaine for forcing him to watch so many over the years), and they talked about football (only briefly after Henry realized it wasn’t up Kurt’s alley).

When Kurt had said he needed to get home, Henry had actually felt bereft. He knew even in that moment he needed to go home and freak out about what exactly was happening but he also didn’t want whatever was happening to end.

They had exchanged phone numbers and Kurt had told him he’d see him the next day at work. And then he winked again. Henry can still feel the blush from that wink almost two hours later.

When his phone buzzed with a phone call from Blaine an hour and a half into his crisis, he’d let it go to voicemail. He wasn’t in a place to talk to his brother. He wasn’t even sure what he would say. ‘Hey, Blaine! Yeah, I got a job and a boyfriend today!’

That thought had caused a spiral that Henry has been in for the last half hour. He does NOT have a boyfriend and one coffee date does not an anything make let alone a boyfriend but the fact that he had the thought means he’s thinking about Kurt in that way. He’s thinking about a man in a romantic way. This is not something he’s ever experienced before.

And suddenly, Blaine seems like the perfect person to talk to about this.

He gropes from his prone position on his couch for the phone he’d tossed onto the coffee table when it had rung with Blaine’s call. He dials his brother’s number and puts a hand over his eyes while he waits for the call to connect.

“Hey!” Blaine answers, happily, “How’d it go?”

Henry knows Blaine is asking about the interview but again his thoughts go to Kurt. He shakes his head to rid himself of the impulsive thought and answers Blaine’s question, “I got it.” He says.

Blaine whoops on the other end of the line, “I knew you would! That is amazing!”

Henry smiles, “Thanks.”

Suddenly, Blaine’s celebration dies off, “Why do you not sound over the moon about this? Is this because of Vance? He was the one who told you to go for this!” Vance is one of Henry’s best friends, one of the men he works with (or he figures it’s now ‘worked’ with). Vance had indeed pushed Henry to interview for the larger company.

“No, no. It’s not about Vance.” Henry answers.

“Then what is it?” Blaine asks and the earnestness in Blaine’s voice opens a flood gate.

“I met someone today.” Henry confesses.

“Oh!” He can tell Blaine is suprised. Henry doesn’t date. Hasn’t had a girlfriend since his junior year of high school. He’ll unpack what exactly that says about him later… “And that’s upsetting?” Blaine asks.

Henry grimaces, “Not in and of itself, I guess.” He starts, “It’s just...it’s a guy?” He says it like a question and then feels slightly queasy afterwards.

The line is silent for a long time, longer than Henry can stand without starting to feel even sicker, before Blaine lets out a breath, “That’s...awesome.”

Henry scrunches his eyes closed, “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

He can almost picture Blaine nodding on the other end of the line, “And nor do you have to.” Blaine reassures, “Just answer me one thing: did you have fun with him?”

“Yes.” Henry answers.

“Then focus on that.” Blaine says and Henry can hear the smile in his voice, “Leave the other stuff to the side for now. I know you, and I know you want to figure everything out and this puts a little bit of a kink into the careful order of your life but if it makes you happy then that’s all that matters.”

Henry lets out of a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. Blaine’s words unravel a knot he’s felt in his chest all afternoon and while he knows he’s not done freaking out about this, he’s willing to allow the happiness to overpower it. Blaine had been the right one to call.

“And Henry, if you have any...questions or you just need to talk things out, you know I’m only a phone call away, right?” Henry nods into the phone, getting a little choked up at the offer.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He breathes out.

“Anytime.” Blaine says, “Now, do you want to tell me more about your job or your date?”

Henry bites his lip as he smiles, “Both?”

“I’m all ears.” Blaine says.

-- -- --

The next night, Alex leaves work to once again find a man on the sidewalk waiting for him but instead of his brother, this time it’s Kurt. He smiles at the man and waves as he approaches.

Kurt waves back before putting his hand back into the pocket of his jacket where it had emerged from, “Hey. It’s good to see you again.” He says.

Alex smiles, “Same to you.”

They stare at each other for a few beats before Kurt tilts his head over his shoulder, “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat?”

Alex chuckles, “Uh, that sounds nice but I have to admit, working at a bakery means I rarely leave a shift hungry. Samples and all that.”

Kurt chuckles as well and then shrugs, “Then what did you have in mind?”

Alex has a few things in mind and when he smiles at Kurt, who smiles back, he figures Kurt is thinking the same thing.

“I have some snacks at my apartment?” Alex offers with a grin.

He can see Kurt’s cheeks pink slightly as the other man ducks his head in an adorably, flirtatious way, “Lead the way.”

-- -- --

Blaine scrolls through his messages from Kurt over the past four days on the train to his parents’ place. He’s got more messages in their thread than he does in all his other threads combined. He actually hasn’t messaged anyone else since he and Kurt started talking but even if he had, he is sure the frequency with which they chat would have surpassed any other conversation Blaine would be having.

The pair have covered so many topics in their messages that Blaine wonders if there is anything left to share. He hasn’t shared this much about himself so fast to another person ever, let alone a person he’s never met in person. Usually by the time he knows this much about a person they’ve been dating for a few months. He and Kurt have been messaging for four days…

He’s just finished drafting an email suggesting that he and Kurt meet up when he gets to his stop. He hits send and then pockets his phone before exiting the train and taking the stairs to the surface. The air is colder than he expected and he hunkers down in his coat for the five minute walk to his parents’ brownstone. His childhood home.

He’s turning onto their street when he sees Henry coming from the other direction. He throws a hand up in a wave that his brother returns and they make their way toward each other. They haven’t really talked since their phone call but Blaine knows Henry usually needs to work things out in his own head first. He’ll come to Blaine when and if he needs to.

“Hey.” Blaine says when they meet up outside the house, embracing his brother in a hug that has him standing on his tiptoes.

“Hey.” Henry answers before they pull away from each other.

“Everything...okay?” Blaine asks, not wanting to push.

Henry smiles, “Getting there, yeah.” He says.

Blaine smiles and nods, appeased for now, and the pair make their way up the stairs to the front door. It opens before they get there to reveal a tiny ball of energy on the other side.

“My boys!” Amelia Anderson shouts for the whole street to hear and then launches herself into first Blaine’s arms and then Henry’s.

Both men laugh as they absorb their sister’s hug. Amelia is four years younger than her brothers and at twenty-two years old is only five foot three inches tall, prompting her brothers to nickname her…

“Hey Tiny!” Blaine smiles.

Amelia smiles back before gesturing for the men to come inside, “Come, come. Dinner’s almost ready and Al’s already here talking to Dad about some new spice for bread?” She shrugs as Henry and Blaine take off their coats and shoes.

“Is that my other two boys?” The trio hear called from, undoubtedly, the kitchen before Fiona Anderson emerges.

“Mama!” Henry says, pulling their mother to him.

“Oh, it just fills my heart to the brim when all my babies are home.” Fiona gushes as she turns to pull Blaine into a hug and then Amelia even though Amelia lives in the house and has probably been there all day. Their mother is never short on hugs.

“It’s good to be home.” Blaine smiles.

Fiona reaches out and strokes his olive-toned cheek with her pale hand, “Go say hello to your father before dinner.” She says before shooing them in the direction of the living room.

When they enter, Blaine sees Alex showing their father, Daniel Anderson, something on his phone. Daniel looks up when they enter and smiles large, patting Alex’s arm in apparent apology before getting up to hug his other sons.

“My boys.” Daniel says reverently, cupping both Henry and Blaine’s cheeks in his hands and looking between them.

Blaine loves his parents, even if they act like they haven’t seen their children in months when it’s really been only a week. The Anderson’s grew up with family dinners every Sunday and the tradition continued even with the three boys moving out on their own.

“Tell me what’s new.” Daniel asks, sitting back down as Blaine and Henry sit next to Alex on the couch after saying hello and Amelia settles on the ground by the coffee table.

The five chat about work and other sundry topics until their mother calls them for dinner. They settle into their usual spots.

“No Sam tonight?” Blaine asks, noticing the spot next to Amelia, usually reserved for her fiance, is empty.

“He’s at work.” Amelia offers, “Though he has made me promise to bring him leftovers.” She says and Fiona laughs.

“I’ll wrap some up after dinner if your brothers don’t eat it all.” She says with an affectionate glance at the three men sitting along one side of the table.

Dinner conversation is more the same as their conversation in the den until Amelia gets a sneaky look on her face, “So...anybody dating anyone new?”

Blaine swallows and feels the weight of his phone in his jeans pocket more acutely. He’s not nervous to tell his family about Kurt, he just doesn’t know how to tell them and his family can be...a lot sometimes when it comes to relationships. Or anything really.

He glances at his brothers, who are looking back at him and then at each other. Blaine wonders if he’s the only one who knows they actually all have something to tell.

In the end, they all shrug.

“Nothing to report.” Alex answers, seemingly for all of them.

Mercifully, talk turns away from their dating lives and to Amelia’s upcoming wedding. Blaine’s actually surprised it has taken them this long into the evening to start talking about it (it sometimes feels like it’s all they talk about) and Blaine enjoys the excited squeal Amelia gives when Alex mentions their plan to take her out.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he jolts slightly at the table. His fingers itch to pull his phone out but the rule has always been no phones at the table. He’ll have to wait until he’s on his way home. The waiting is torture even though he loves hanging out with his family.

When they finally wrap up the evening with several rounds of hugs, Blaine and Alex make their way to the subway together (after seeing Henry off in the other direction to a different train).

Blaine’s got his phone out as soon as he’s sitting in the, thankfully, sparsely populated car.

“Any plans for the night?” Alex asks as he lounges next to Blaine, munching on left over rolls from dinner.

Blaine doesn’t answer right away - instead reading the last message from Kurt.

Blaine

I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels like I know so much about you before we’ve even met. I’d love to meet up in person. I know you said you’ll be at your parents house tonight but...any chance I can interest you in a nightcap? We could meet at Coffee Project whenever you're done at your parents? Text me if you’re interested :)

Kurt

212-967-1253

Blaine has no idea where Coffee Project is but he’s already looking up directions when Alex hits him.

“Uh, what?” He asks, looking up in a daze.

Alex quirks an eyebrow at him, “I asked if you had plans for tonight.”

Blaine smiles, “I do now.”

-- -- --

Blaine opens the door to Coffee Project a half hour later and even though it’s late, a few heads turn at the sound of the bell over the door. Blaine’s hoping one of the heads is Kurt’s and he has a fleeting moment to hope Kurt actually looks like his profile picture when his worries are assuaged by a swivelling head at a table near the back.

Kurt looks exactly like his profile picture except he’s even better looking in person. The way his eyes light up when he sees Blaine at the door is something you can’t really capture in a picture.

“Hey!” Kurt enthuses when Blaine gets close. He’s up out of his seat and pulling Blaine into his arms before Blaine can say anything.

It should feel strange to hug someone he’s never met but it doesn’t. He’s met Kurt in every way except the physical (not that he hasn’t thought about the physical...but he digresses), so it feels natural to hug him close.

“Hi.” Blaine whispers as they part and sit on either side of the table.

“I ordered you a medium drip with some cinnamon. I hope that’s okay? You mentioned it was your drink of choice.” Kurt seems a little nervous but he’s smiling excitedly and even if Kurt was just nervous, Blaine’s excited enough for the both of them.

“No, that’s perfect.” He says, lifting his cup in a cheers motion before taking a sip.

Kurt shifts in his seat, “So, I know this is technically our first date but every topic of conversation I could think of while I waited for you we’ve already covered in our emails. This doesn’t feel like a first date.”

Blaine shakes his head, “It really doesn’t.”

Kurt nods, “How was your parents’ house?”

“It was wonderful as usual.” Blaine smiles and Kurt smiles back.

They make small talk for a while, complete with goofy grins at each other, before Blaine scratches his chin and looks out the front window, “What is it?” Kurt asks.

Blaine coughs and loses his nerve at the last moment to ask Kurt back to his place. He may feel like he’s known this man for a lot longer than four days virtually and about an hour in person, but the reality is they don’t know each other at all. And Blaine’s romantic nature is screaming at him to take this slow because this could be the real deal. He doesn’t want his baser instincts to scare Kurt off.

He shakes his head with a smile, “Nothing. Do you want to go for a walk?”

It’s probably a little too cold for a walk outside but Manhattan seems to glow around them as they walk slowly through the still populated street. It’s one of Blaine’s favourite things about New York - it truly never sleeps.

“So you said your brother is taking over the garage from your dad when he retires?” Blaine says as they follow a path through a small park.

Kurt nods, “Yeah. I sometimes wonder if my dad is secretly disappointed I never wanted to take it over.”

Blaine shrugs, “Are you the oldest?”

Kurt pouts slightly before ‘ah’ing and then chuckling, “Did I not mention Finn is my step-brother? Not my biological brother?”

“You did not.” Blaine answers and the pair laugh.

Kurt stops at a rusty swing set in the park and sits down on one, curling one arm around the chain. Blaine sits next to him and mirrors his position. The metal is freezing under his palm but he leaves his hand where it is and rocks his feet in the sand to swing himself back and forth slightly.

“My dad remarried when I was fifteen.” Kurt shares, “To the mother of a boy at my school. Same grade as me. It was...interesting.”

“Were you two friends in school?” Blaine asks.

Kurt chuckles slightly, but Blaine’s not sure why the question was funny, “Not really.” Kurt answers, “At all. We didn’t run in the same circles. His circle was more interested in making my circle’s life hell. Me specifically.”

Blaine feels instantly angry at people he’s never met. He pictures a younger Kurt getting bullied and wants to punch someone. He tries to tell himself his anger comes only from his own similar school experience.

“He was never really someone who bullied me. He just...didn’t do anything about it either. But then things started to change. It took a while - even after our parents married - but now I sometimes forget to tell people he’s my stepbrother.” Kurt shrugs, “He’s just been my brother for a lot of years now.”

Blaine smiles at the soft smile on Kurt’s face before the other man’s face is scrunching up, “I’m once again oversharing too soon, aren’t I?” He asks, “I’m, honestly, not usually like this.”

Blaine shifts so he’s more fully facing Kurt on the swing, “Hey, no. It’s totally fine. I…” He hesitates, “I want to know everything about you.”

Kurt’s eyes light up and he gives a little inhale through a slightly open mouth. Blaine can’t be one hundred percent sure, because the lighting isn’t amazing, but he thinks he sees Kurt’s cheeks pinken.

Blaine shrugs, “And if it helps you any, I once walked in on my parents having sex when I was fifteen and they sat me down the next day and gave me a very indepth, and scarring, sex talk.”

His anecdote has the desired effect and Kurt laughs heartily. Blaine smiles at the lyrical sound.

Kurt puts a hand up to his mouth as his laugh turns into a chuckle, “Are you serious? Or did you just make that up to make me feel better about oversharing?”

Blaine winces slightly which just makes Kurt laugh more, “Unfortunately, I am completely serious. I couldn’t think of anything remotely sexual for months after.”

This admission only makes Kurt laugh again.

-- -- --

A half hour, and one slide down the red metal slide at the park for each of them later, Kurt and Blaine walk toward Kurt’s apartment. Blaine actually feels himself slowing his pace. Despite the late hour, he doesn’t want this night to end.

“I had a really good time tonight.” He says.

Kurt smiles, “So did I.”

They come to a stop outside Kurt’s building and they hesitate, facing each other with shy smiles and hands stuffed in their coat pockets for warmth.

“I’d really like to see you again.” Blaine says.

Kurt bites his lip slightly and, even though it’s a cliche, Blaine’s eyes dip down at the movement before flicking back up.

“I’d really like to see you again as well.” Kurt whispers and then Blaine can take it no longer. He’s been waiting all night.

Without preamble, he pulls one hand from his pocket and rests it on Kurt’s elbow before ducking in and up and pressing his lips to Kurt’s. Kurt breathes in quickly before he’s kissing back. It’s short but amazing and they pull back with equally breathless expressions.

“Good night, Kurt. I’ll text you.” Blaine whispers, still leaning into Kurt’s space.

Kurt blinks at him before smiling, “Night Blaine. And not if I text you first.”

And then with a wink, Kurt pulls away and walks toward his building. He turns at the door to wave at Blaine over his shoulder with another smile, and Blaine waves back before Kurt enters the building and out of his sight.

Blaine has to quell the impulse to jump and click his heels together in joy before making his way down the street to hail a cab home.

-- -- --

Two days later, Henry sits at a counter by himself. There are people around but none of them give much notice to the nervous man at the counter whose knee is bouncing so frantically that Henry is sure he’s going to injure himself.

He keeps glancing around, eyes darting around the room like at any moment someone is going to come and arrest him just for sitting. Well, if he’s being honest it’s not the sitting he thinks he’s going to be arrested for.

He shakes his head at the thought. He’s not going to get arrested for any of this. Ugh, he should have called Blaine again before this.

“Hey!” He hears from behind him and spins to see Kurt standing there. He’s unwinding a scarf from his neck and he looks...beautiful. It’s the only way Henry can describe him.

“Hi.” Henry says around a suddenly dry mouth.

Kurt smiles and looks around as he takes his jacket off, “So...bowling.” He says and his smile turns slightly confused.

Henry coughs, “Uh yeah. Is that okay? I...it felt like a good idea.”

Kurt smiles, “I haven’t been bowling in years, and I’ll admit I’m not at all good, but I’m willing to give it a shot...” He pauses and looks down the counter toward where a man is handing out bowling shoes, “as long as I can get shoes that go with my outfit.”

Henry laughs, nervously, before his eyes are once again darting around. He had almost convinced himself that his wandering eyes before had been in search of Kurt but now that Kurt is here…

His eyes land back on Kurt who is looking at him with a serious face. Henry shifts under the gaze and tries to laugh again but it comes out as more of a groan to his ears.

Kurt licks his lips (and Henry jolts when he realizes how easily his eyes followed the motion) before the other man is nodding, “Hey, I’m kind of hungry. Do you mind if we grab something to eat before bowling? I saw a little cafe down the street.”

Henry feels his chest expand and suddenly getting out of the crowded bowling alley seems like the best idea ever. He nods and grabs his coat while Kurt puts his own back on. They walk in companionable silence to the cafe at the end of the street and it is mercifully empty except for a kind looking waiter around their age and what sounds like a cook in the back room kitchen.

“Hi!” The waiter smiles, “Have a seat wherever and I’ll be right with you.”

Kurt gestures to the back of the cafe and the pair sit opposite each other in a booth. By the time they take off their jackets and lay them down beside them the waiter is at their table with menus.

“Can I start you with a drink?” He asks.

“I’ll just have a coffee.” Kurt smiles.

“Same.” Henry says when the waiter looks at him. The waiter nods and then leaves them alone.

The pair is quiet once they are alone and Henry can feel Kurt’s gaze on him. Henry is more comfortable in the cafe but he’s still not COMFORTABLE.

“Can I ask you something?” Kurt asks softly. Henry nods but Kurt waits while the waiter puts down their drinks, says he’ll be back later to take their orders, and leaves before continuing, “Are you married?”

Henry chokes on the sip of coffee he is drinking and he sputters and coughs. Kurt waits with a slightly quirked eyebrow and smirk while Henry calms and then laughs, “No. No, I’m not married.”

Kurt smiles fully, “Okay. That’s good. For my purposes anyway.” He says, “Can I ask you something else?” Henry indicates for him to go ahead, “Is this the first time you’ve gone out with a guy?”

Henry lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’s been holding and can feel himself start to shake a little. Kurt folds his hands in front him lightly and just gives him a soft, open smile and slowly Henry calms enough to nod.

Kurt nods, “Well, don’t I feel special?” He says, swiping a hand over the chestnut swoop of hair on top of his head. The question makes Henry laugh which he assumes was the point and Kurt breaks character to chuckle with him.

“I’m sorry. I’m kind of a mess.” Henry says after a moment.

Kurt smiles, somewhat sadly, and shakes his head, “You’re not a mess. At all. And besides, you should have seen me at fifteen.” Kurt’s eyes widen briefly as if he’s remembering something terrible.

“Something tells me you were never a mess.” Henry says.

Kurt shrugs, “Well, okay, maybe you aren’t wrong.”

The pair chuckles and then smile at each other for a moment before Henry clears his throat, “I don’t really know what I’m doing but I...like spending time with you.”

Kurt nods, “Then that is what we shall do. Spend time together.” He makes a show of picking up the menu and opening it with a flourish before smiling over at Henry, “I like spending time with you too.”

Henry smiles and breathes easier than he has all day.

-- -- --

Over the next few weeks, final preparations for Amelia’s wedding are in full swing and the Anderson triplets are put to work doing everything from helping to make party favours (to which Alex had said: ‘We’re rich - can’t someone else make these?’), to helping create a playlist for the reception (‘Blaine, you need to help. Sam only wants country!’), to going to final tux fittings, among other things. They also spend a good portion of time planning their night out with Amelia. Alex is in charge of most of the planning for that but Blaine and Henry check in to make sure everything is under control and nothing planned is illegal.

They also spend more time with Kurt. Alex finds for the first time in his twenty-six years, he’s excited about the prospect of seeing where things go with only one guy. Henry is beginning to understand, and freak out less about, his feelings surrounding Kurt and he’s been dipping his toes into the experience (including but not limited to his first kiss with a man - a fact he only freaked out internally, and to Blaine, about a little bit). Blaine gets a breathless feeling whenever he thinks about Kurt, which is often, and he literally has to turn his phone off sometimes to keep from texting the other man continuously.

Somehow, even weeks later, none of them are aware that they are actually dating the same person...but they are all getting closer to asking Kurt to be their date for Amelia’s wedding.

“Hey Tiny?” Blaine asks one night as he and his sister sit in their parents’ living room tying bows onto plastic bags holding green and peach mints.

“Hmmm?” Amelia hums as she focuses on her current bow.

“Is it cool if I invite someone to your wedding?” Blaine asks.

Amelia looks up and lowers her hands, complete with bag and untied bow, to the table with a soft thud. Blaine had realized when he had thought of asking Kurt to the wedding, that because he’d never gotten an actual invitation (‘Your invitation is implied and your acceptance is non-negotiable’ Amelia had told the three of them) he wasn’t sure if he had been granted a plus one. Now, with Amelia looking at him with a shocked expression, he suddenly feels like a plus one had not been something she had intended to extend to him.

But then Amelia had slumped and hit him in the arm lightly, “Of course you can have a plus one!” She says and Blaine smiles before Amelia shrugs, “I had assumed you and Alex would bring someone and then felt bad for not assuming Henry would, so I just planned for three extra people just in case.”

Blaine chuckles, “Well I haven’t asked him yet but...thanks.”

Amelia smiles, “No thanks necessary, Blaine. But there is a condition to having a plus one.” Blaine’s eyebrows lift at his sister’s serious expression as she points at him, “You have to tell me about this amazing man who makes you smile like that.”

-- -- --

Blaine opens the door to his apartment later that week to find Kurt smiling at him from the other side. He smiles back and gestures for Kurt to enter. He watches as Kurt takes in the low lighting and candles on the table set for two in Blaine’s small kitchen.

“Wow! Colour me impressed.” Kurt says as he takes his jacket off.

Blaine chuckles softly and shrugs as he takes the proffered jacket and hangs it in the front closet, “I just wanted something a little...special.”

Kurt gives him a tiny, shy smile and Blaine smiles back before gesturing to the table, “Dinner’s ready so please, have a seat.”

Kurt smiles, “Mind if I wash up first? Subway germs.” He says, spreading his fingers in front of himself in a slight jazz hands motion.

Blaine chuckles, “Dastard subway germs.” He winks before gesturing down the hall, “Bathroom’s the second door on your right.”

Once Kurt has returned and is seated at the table, Blaine grabs the bottle of wine from the counter. He pours some into Kurt’s glass and his own while Kurt takes his napkin and lays it over his lap.

“Are you...planning to purpose tonight?” Kurt jokes when Blaine sits down after serving them each a bowl of pasta.

Blaine chuckles and shakes his head as he looks down at his lap, “It hadn’t crossed my mind, no.” He says looking back up at Kurt to find the other man smirking at him.

“Darn.” Kurt winks before lifting his glass and offering Blaine a toast, “To fancy non-proposal dinners.”

Blaine laughs again and clinks his glass with Kurt’s. They both take a sip, looking at each other over the rims of their glasses, before picking up their forks and beginning to eat.

Kurt moans at his first bite, “This is amazing!” He enthuses.

Blaine coughs at his body’s reaction to the moan before nodding, “Thanks. Old family recipe.”

“Well, if it wouldn’t make this whole situation completely inappropriate, I’d say I’d want to be your new brother just to get this recipe.” Kurt laughs.

Dinner passes with easy, flirtatious conversation and before long the pair is on the couch with their wine. They both have a leg pulled up and are sitting sideways, knees touching, and their bodies get closer and closer as they talk, and before long, they’re kissing.

They’ve shared quite a few kisses by this point but they never fail to take Blaine’s breath away. He curls in closer to Kurt and rests a hand on his thigh as they continue to kiss.

He pulls away after a moment and leans his head against the back of the couch. Kurt does the same and they stare at each other with soft smiles, “I wanted to ask you to be my date to my sister’s wedding.” Blaine whispers into the space between them.

Kurt’s eyes light up, “I love weddings!” He says.

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s thigh, still under his hand, lightly, “So does that mean yes?” He asks.

Kurt nods, “I’d love to.”

Blaine smiles before chuckling, “I guess I should tell you when it is in case you have a prior engagement.”

Kurt scrunches his nose adorably, “Yeah, that might be a good idea.”

Blaine can’t resist leaning in to kiss Kurt’s lips at the expression and they kiss for another few moments before Blaine pulls away once more, “December 2nd.” He says.

“I’m there.” Kurt replies before lightly fisting his hand in Blaine’s shirt and pulling him forward.

-- -- --

Unlike Blaine, Alex had always assumed a plus one was just a given for him. He was sure he could find someone to go with to the wedding, and whether he went home with that someone, or someone from the wedding, well...he would just be keeping his options open. That, however, was before Kurt.

Kurt, who made Alex’s heart beat faster every time he thought of him. Kurt, who made Alex laugh and actually laughed at Alex’s jokes in return. Kurt, who was breathtakingly beautiful and enchanting in a way no other person had ever really been for Alex. Kurt, who made Alex understand what it meant to want monogamy for himself and not just as an idea that seemed to work for people like his parents and sister.

Kurt, who is biting his lip when Alex pulls open the door to his apartment and Alex wants to bite that lip himself. Until now there hasn’t been a lot of biting of any kind. Despite Alex’s usual MO, he and Kurt have done nothing more than share kisses, and Alex finds himself wanting more but being okay with waiting.

He must be growing up…

“Hey.” He smiles as he gestures for Kurt to come in.

“Hi.” Kurt whispers and Alex realizes that he’d been so focused on Kurt’s bit lip that he failed to notice how nervous Kurt is acting.

“Everything okay?” Alex asks as he sits on the couch and watches Kurt sit across from him and fidget with the end of his scarf that he hasn’t taken off.

Kurt takes a deep breath and looks up at Alex with a sad smile and Alex’s stomach drops in preparation for what he can sense coming.

“You’re ending this, aren’t you?” Alex asks before Kurt can say anything.

Kurt bites his lip again and turns to look at the coffee table in front of Alex’s couch. Silence stretches between them but Alex doesn’t know how to fill it. He’s never been in this situation before, and the longer Kurt remains silent, the more real the moment becomes. He’s being broken up with. And even though they were not serious (hadn’t even talked about exclusivity at ALL) it hurts in a way he’s never really had to deal with before.

“I’m so sorry.” Kurt finally says on an exhale.

Alex presses his lips together and nods, more to himself than to Kurt.

“It’s just...you weren’t the only guy I’ve been seeing,” Alex’s heart hurts a little at this admission even though he had just moments before contemplated their lack of exclusivity, “and things with the other guy have become more serious for me and I needed to make a decision.”

Alex nods again. He’s doing a lot of nodding.

Kurt looks back over at him with a sad smile, “I really like you, but...it just didn’t feel fair to keep going with this,” He gestures back and forth between them, “when I couldn’t give it 100%.”

Alex lets out a breath and chuckles, which causes Kurt’s eyes to widen slightly, “It’s fine.” Alex says flippantly, even though he feels anything but flippant. He waves a hand nonchalantly in front of himself, “We weren’t exclusive. We never talked about it. I do appreciate you letting me know, though.”

He kind of wants Kurt to leave. He’s not devastated? But he’s hurting more than he wants to in front of the man currently breaking things off with him. He almost laughs again when he remembers he had intended to invite Kurt to Amelia’s wedding tonight. How dumb would he have felt had he done that before Kurt broke things off?

“I really do like you.” Kurt says again.

Alex smiles, “I like you, too.” He says softly before coughing awkwardly, “But hey, good luck with the other guy. He’s...very lucky.”

Having never been in this position before, Alex isn’t sure how to act. He’s not sure that’s the right thing to say and Kurt’s awkward smile leads him to believe it probably wasn’t exactly the right thing, but Kurt does nod and then gets up.

“Thanks.” He says.

Alex walks him to the door and holds it open for him to leave - the shortest ‘date’ of Alex’s life.

Kurt smiles with a wave before starting to walk down the hallway, “Oh!” Alex exclaims and Kurt turns around in surprise. Alex leans out his door slightly and smiles, “And if things don’t work out with your other guy...give me a call?”

Kurt’s eyes widen slightly, again, and his awkward smile returns before he nods and waves again before making his way down the hall and to the elevators.

Alex sighs when he’s out of sight and leans his head against the door. Clearly not the right thing to say. Getting broken up with sucks. He doesn’t recommend it. He needs a drink.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts his brothers.

-- -- --

“Al…” Blaine says, coming up behind his brother who is sitting at the bar in Black Iron Burger the next day.

Alex turns with a sad smile and Blaine pats him on the back with a sad smile of his own before pulling him into a hug.

“I’m sorry, man.” Blaine sympathizes as he takes a seat next to Alex. He notices, briefly, that Henry hasn’t arrived yet before focusing back on Alex who shrugs and wraps a hand around the half drunk beer in front of him.

“Yeah, it sucks. I mean, it wasn’t like we were serious or exclusive, but I kinda thought it could get there.” Alex says before shrugging again and bringing his beer to his lips.

Blaine pouts his lips. He can tell that this guy was different for Alex. His brother has never called him to mourn the loss of a partner (aside from the one time he’d slept with a D-list celebrity and claimed he’d been ‘in love’ after one night but that they would never see each other again. ‘It’s like Romeo and Juilet!’ he’d, overdramatically, lamented). Blaine is the brother that gets attached. Alex isn’t. So to see him slumped slightly in defeat makes Blaine’s heart clench.

“He didn’t deserve you.” He says, laying a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex smiles and chuckles lightly, “Yeah, maybe.” He says.

The conversation pauses so Blaine can order a drink and then the pair is quiet while they watch the football game playing over their heads. Blaine figures he’ll take his cue from Alex. He’s here for him after all.

Henry joins them a few minutes later looking more put together than he normally does for a get together with his brothers. Blaine notes, as he watches Alex and Henry hug, that while Henry is usually better dressed than Alex, he doesn’t put as much time into his look as Blaine does. Tonight, he looks polished and Blaine even notices cufflinks on the dress shirt he’s wearing. Even the fact that he’s wearing a dress shirt to meet with his brothers is slightly out of character for him.

Blaine shakes himself out of his thoughts as Henry turns to hug him and then orders a beer for himself.

“So what do you need from us tonight?” Henry says as he sits on Alex’s other side, “Do you want us to sit quietly and watch the game with you, demonize the horrible man who broke your heart, give you shoulders to cry on? Just let us know.”

Alex laughs softly and shakes his head, “I just wanted to see you guys and have a beer...or five. We can just chat.”

Henry nods as his beer is set in front of him. He lifts it slightly and tilts it toward the other two, “We can do that. Right, Blaine?”

Blaine nods and mirrors the gesture, “We can.”

The three clink their glasses together and each take a sip of their drinks before, simultaneously, replacing them on the bar top.

“Speaking of ‘chatting’,” Alex starts, “What’s got you dressed up so fancy? I know it can’t be me. My pain is not a formal occasion.”

Henry chuckles, nervously, as he adjusts his collar, “Uh, I actually have a date later.”

Blaine shoots Alex a nervous look at the admission, afraid of how his brother will react. But when Henry also shoots Alex a concerned look, the man in the middle chuckles, “Guys, I’m fine! I’m not going to break. We weren’t serious. I’m just slightly bummed and wanted to see you guys. I’m Alex. I don’t do ‘feelings’.”

Blaine knows he’s covering a little but trusts his brother to let them know how he’s feeling so he nods and turns back to Henry, “So, how are things going with your guy?”

He notices Henry blush slightly and smiles at the boyish way Henry shifts his eyes as he smiles, “Really well.” He admits and Alex whoops while Blaine smiles bigger, “I was actually thinking of inviting him to Tiny’s wedding. Do you think that would be...cool?”

“You should.” Blaine answers immediately, “No one will care he’s a guy, Henry.” He says, understanding why Henry is nervous, “They may be a bit surprised at first but they’ll just be happy for you.”

Henry nods and takes a deep breath, “You’re right.”

Alex lets out a breath, “So, Henry’s going to have a date to a family wedding. That hasn’t happened...ever.” He chuckles when Henry smacks him on the back of the head before continuing, “And we all know I’ll rally and invite some hot piece with me.” Henry and Blaine give the same ‘Of course’ hand gesture, “So, now we just have to find someone for baby brother.”

Blaine rolls his eyes at the moniker but then smiles, “I actually already have a date myself.”

Alex’s eyes widen and Henry lets out a low whistle, “The same guy you’ve been seeing?” Alex asks and Blaine nods with an even bigger smile, “Well, that’s great.” He says, offering his glass for another toast, “To each of us finding someone we want to hump.”

Henry and Blaine roll their eyes with their glasses held up but participate in the toast anyway.

“Oh! And to it being only two days until we take Tiny out!” Alex adds.

Blaine and Henry, more enthusiastically, cheers to that.

-- -- --

Henry feels his heart leap when he sees Kurt walking toward him. He had left Blaine and Alex at the bar a half hour ago after two hours of chatting and goofing around to meet Kurt for their date.

His teeth start to chatter and not because of the cold weather. He’s nervous. Alex was right. He’s never asked anyone to any of their family weddings. He hopes Kurt says yes!

Kurt’s face breaks into a smile when their eyes meet and Henry all but bounces on his toes when the other man gets closer.

“Hey!” He enthuses, swooping in to give Kurt a quick kiss on the cheek. The desire to do so is still so new for Henry. It both excites him and terrifies him a little. He hasn’t really gotten the hang of casual intimacy with Kurt. Any physical interaction is usually initiated by Kurt. But Henry’s trying. He wants to try.

“Hey you.” Kurt says with a sigh, a white cloud of air following his words due to the cold weather.

“You look great.” Henry smiles.

Kurt smiles back, “So do you. Shall we walk?” He asks, gesturing down the street.

Henry loves that their dates are simple. They’ve been to the coffee shop a few more times and spent an afternoon in Central Park by the pond. Today their plan is to wander around the city and see if anything strikes their fancy. It may be a bit cold to do so? But Henry loves how uncomplicated and safe it feels. A lot less stressful than bowling - Henry is still berating himself for suggesting that to begin with.

The pair start their way down the street, walking close enough that their hands bump every once in a while but never really hold. Henry would like to hold Kurt’s hand, his fingers are flexing like a teenager on his first date, but he thinks he’ll wait and see if Kurt grabs first.

“How was drinks with your brothers?” Kurt asks.

Henry smiles, “It was nice. Alex just got his heart broken a little so we were cheering him up.”

Henry notices Kurt pauses at this, to the point where Henry walks a few steps ahead of him before he notices the lack of Kurt beside him. Henry turns back with a questioning eyebrow raised to find Kurt staring at him with slightly wide eyes. A second later, however, before Henry can ask, Kurt shakes his head with a chuckle and moves to walk next to the other man again.

“Sorry, I just thought...nevermind. It’s not important.” Kurt says with another shake of his head.

Henry nods in acceptance as they round a corner, “So, are you excited about your presentation on Monday?” It’s not what he wants to ask. He wants to ask Kurt to the wedding, but he figures he’ll work himself up to that.

Kurt sighs next to him and it sounds a little regretful to Henry. Which is strange considering the nature of his question. He’d thought Kurt would be excited about the presentation.

“Look, Henry, can we sit for a bit? I wanted to...talk to you about something.” Kurt says around a grimace and Henry doesn’t like the words or the expression but he nods and allows Kurt to lead him into a small, quiet coffee shop on the corner.

They each order a coffee, even though Henry suddenly has a lump in his throat and doesn’t think he’ll be able to drink it, and he shifts continually as Kurt unwinds his scarfs from his neck.

“What’s up?” Henry asks when he can’t take the quiet any longer. Trying for nonchalance and probably failing epically.

Kurt swallows and rests his hands first on the wooden table top, then in his lap, and then finally decides to reach forward and grab Henry’s hands across the table. Henry looks down at their hands and while he realizes this is what he wanted to happen not even ten minutes ago, the current mood isn’t what he had expected or wanted.

“I don’t really know how to tell you this.” Kurt begins and Henry blinks at him, waiting for what he knows is coming but hoping that’s not the case, “I...need to end things.” And there it is. Henry feels his stomach sink to his feet and his instant reaction is to pull his hands from Kurt’s. Kurt won’t let him go though and Henry doesn’t try too hard, “It’s nothing you did. You are amazing.” Kurt continues and Henry goes back to blinking at him, his mind already whirling as he tries to focus on what Kurt is saying.

“What happened?” He asks around dry lips.

Kurt gives him a sad smile and Henry wants to say it’s pitying and hate Kurt for it but...he can’t, “I haven’t just been seeing you and things with the other guy have gotten more serious. I didn’t think it would be fair to either of you to pretend that wasn’t the case.”

Henry intellectually knows that at twenty-six, people date multiple people until things become exclusive but...Henry doesn’t really date. He was exclusive with Kurt from the beginning. It hurts, however irrationally, that Kurt didn’t feel the same way.

“I’m so sorry, Henry.” Kurt continues, squeezing his hand.

Henry shakes himself out of his own head and looks at Kurt, who is continuing to smile sadly at him.

“Would you like me to go?” Kurt asks.

Henry swallows. Does he? He thinks he does. He nods before he can think too hard and Kurt squeezes his hand one more time before pulling away and grabbing his scarf.

He stands to wind it around his neck and then reaches into his pocket to put money down on the table for his undrank (and actually still undelivered) coffee.

“You really are amazing, Henry.” Kurt whispers.

Henry nods, tries to smile, and then Kurt is gone.

Henry lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He tries to tell himself that people break things off all the time. Hell, he’d just come from an Alex cheer up session for the exact same reason. He tries to tell himself that he and Kurt weren’t serious, regardless of Henry’s personal feelings on exclusivity.

He’ll be fine. It’s not like the very first guy to ever catch Henry’s attention, to make him question everything he thought about himself, just ended things right when Henry was thinking of taking things to the next level.

Henry lets out another heavy breath. Fuck.

-- -- --

“Okay, while I love that you guys took me out? I have to say this is kind of depressing.” Amelia says, carefully, two days later.

She’s seated on the arm of a couch in the VIP section of a swanky club, dressed to the nines in a purple sequined dressed and hair and makeup on point, and while she’s valiantly trying to maintain a buzz...she feels its a bit of a travesty that she has to TRY so hard. She should be drunk out of her MIND right now or at least on her way to it.

She’s not sure if the club is all the night holds, but the way things are going she’s not sure she wants to find out what else there might be.

The only other person actually trying to have fun is Blaine. He’s also dressed to the nines, his bowtie the perfect accessory and has been tweaked by admiring girls AND guys all night. The constant blush on his cheeks at the action is both adorable and endearing. Blaine is currently off buying them more drinks, however, leaving Amelia with Alex and Henry.

It’s the other two members of their party that are being giant party poopers. Alex and Henry are at least dressed nicely for the event but considering this is pretty much all Alex has talked about for months...their mood is definitely off.

“Sorry Tiny.” Henry sighs from where he sits on the couch next to where she is perched.

Amelia sighs, “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be happy!” She says, “Is whatever has the two of you down something you can maybe put aside for the night? Or is it something we can talk about, quickly, so we can move on? Because I’m pretty sure this night is costing you all a lot of money and...it’s my last night out with my boys before my wedding.” She doesn’t want to pout but...she’s the baby, and the only girl, and is used to using her pout to get what she wants.

Alex sighs, “I was ready to have a great night but then Henry had to go and get dumped, too, and...it reminded me how much that sucked.”

Henry lifts his hands, exasperatedly, as if to say it wasn’t his fault he got dumped a day after Alex did, “It’s not my fault I got dumped a day after you did!” He huffs and Amelia almost, almost giggles at her ability to read her big brothers.

Instead of giggling though, she sighs, “Look, guys, getting dumped sucks but get drunk and get on someone else! It’s not like you’d been dating these people for a year or more. You didn’t even tell your family you were dating them!”

Henry and Alex both stare at her after her exclamation and she would feel bad if she didn’t feel she was right. Henry’s mood makes the most sense. He doesn’t date and any seeming failure would be a blow to his dating confidence.

She’s most confused by Alex. Alex goes through men and women like they’re underwear sometimes. She’s confused why he would be so hung up on a guy he clearly didn’t feel serious enough about to introduce to his family.

“We’re sorry, Tiny.” Henry says.

Alex nods, “Yeah. We’ll try harder. This is your night.”

Amelia nods, glad to have them thinking the way she does, as Blaine comes back to the group.

“I’m pretty sure I counted four different people winking at me and/or touching my butt on the way to and from the bar.” Blaine says, setting their drinks down on the table in front of the couch.

Alex laughs as he reaches for his drink, cheersing slightly in thanks, “Well, you are looking very dapper this evening. But better watch it - your man might get jealous.”

Blaine chuckles, himself, as he takes a seat in a chair perpendicular to the couch the other three are sitting on, “Yeah, maybe I should have brought Kurt as protection.”

Amelia is looking at Blaine but becomes aware very quickly of how still the couch to her right has gotten. She turns to find Alex and Henry looking at Blaine but not in the casual way one might when another person is talking. They’re staring at him like he’s just said the most shocking thing they’ve ever heard.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Alex asks.

Blaine seems to catch on to their sudden mood and furrows his eyebrows and shifts as he answers, “That I should have gotten Kurt to come for protection. It was just a joke.”

“Kurt.” Henry says, flatly.

“Yeah. My….boyfriend?” Blaine says the last part questioningly. Amelia isn’t sure if it’s because he’s still confused by their brothers’ reactions, or because he’s not sure if the title is accurate for his relationship.

Either way, the clarification doesn’t seem to help Alex and Henry who continue to look at Blaine like he’s just stolen the last cookie (a criminal offense punishable by beatings from each other when they were kids).

Blaine chuckles nervously under the scrutiny, “What’s going on?”

Henry and Alex look at each other and then back at Blaine, and then back at each other. Amelia’s head is starting to hurt from confusion, but it looks like she’s not the only one who’s confused.

“What’s Kurt’s last name?” Henry asks.

“Hummel.” Blaine provides and again the space is silent which is hard to do considering the music pumping not far away.

“Oh god.” Henry moans, putting his head into his hands. Alex sits, frozen, staring at Blaine. Blaine, for his part, is looking back and forth between his brothers, and Amelia, with a look of distress on his face, unaware of the issue.

And then suddenly, Amelia gets it.

“Were you all dating the same guy?!” She exclaims.

Blaine’s head whips in her direction as Henry moans again.

“No, no, no.” Blaine says with a nervous chuckle as he looks at his brothers to agree.

Instead of confirmation however, Henry is still face planting into his hands and Alex looks murderous.

“No?” Blaine, feebly, tries again.

“I lost my chance to be with Kurt because of YOU?!” Alex yells and Blaine jumps back in his chair slightly at the loud exclamation.

Amelia gets up and puts her hands up in a calming gesture, “Now, just wait a minute. Let’s just...talk about this.”

“Did you know?” Alex accuses as he stares at Blaine.

“Of course not!” Blaine exclaims.

Alex scoffs like he doesn’t really believe his brother and fidgets on the couch. Henry hasn’t moved.

“I cannot believe this.” Alex huffs. He looks around the room before shaking his head and huffing again, “You know what? I can’t be here right now. I’m sorry, Tiny, but...I gotta go.”

Before Amelia can say anything, Alex is up out of his seat and out of the room. Blaine and Amelia watch him go, both looking distressed and confused.

“Henry?” Blaine asks after a moment, small and sounding very much like the ‘little brother’ Alex and Henry like to say he is.

Henry shakes his head before looking up, “I gotta...I’m sorry but I gotta...think about this.” He says and then he’s gone the same way Alex left.

Blaine and Amelia once again watch him leave and then turn and look at each other. Blaine looks close to tears and Amelia feels a tightness in her chest. She’s not sure how to fix what just happened, or even fully understand why it happened. She just knows that a night meant to celebrate very quickly turned into the very opposite of that, and she now has three brothers hurting.

She does the only thing she can think to do at the moment and moves to squish herself next to Blaine, pulling him to her and cuddling him close as they listen to the distant thump of music from the club on the other side of the wall.

-- -- --

Blaine feels like shit. It’s been three days since the disaster that was Amelia’s party and neither of his brothers are answering his calls. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t talk to his brothers for longer than a day, their almost constant back and forth something he took for granted until it suddenly wasn’t there.

He’s tried to text both of them multiple times but has not received a response from either.

He misses his brothers, but he’s also a little mad because he’s not sure their silent treatment/absence is justified. It’s not Blaine’s fault he met a guy. It’s not Blaine’s fault he and said guy grew close. And it’s not his fault that guy just so happened to also be dating his other two triplet brothers and decided to break it off with them.

None of this is his fault...but then why does he feel so guilty for seeking comfort in Kurt?

“I don’t know what to do.” He sighs, resting his chin on his folded arms which are resting on top of his kitchen island where he is sitting.

Kurt sighs from his spot next to him and leans over to kiss his shoulder before leaning his cheek on the same shoulder and smoothing a hand up Blaine’s back.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

“I don’t know what to say or do to make any of this better with them.” Blaine continues.

Kurt hums and Blaine appreciates that while Kurt may not know what to say, he’ll listen.

When Blaine had first told Kurt that he had been inadvertently dating Blaine’s triplet brothers, Kurt had thought he was joking. No way did the universe work that way. But after Blaine showed Kurt a picture of himself with Alex and Henry, Kurt had been dumbfounded. He’d sputtered some words that didn’t make a lot of sense and looked like his mind was reeling with a million different emotions and thoughts all at once. In the end, he seemed to finally land on pity and sympathy for Blaine, and while Blaine doesn’t usually like to be pitied...in this situation, he’ll take all the pity and cuddles he can get.

The pair is quiet for a few moments, both in their own heads, before Kurt lets out a breath, “I still can’t believe I was dating three brothers.” Evidently Kurt’s not completely done being dumbfounded, “No, wait.” He says, straightening up, “Triplets. Triplet brothers. Close triplet brothers. Triplet brothers who are close.” He moves away from Blaine to circle to the other side of the island and Blaine immediately misses his closeness.

Kurt paces from one end of the island to the other and brings a hand to his forehead, “And I’ve now hurt all three of them.” He seems to be talking more to himself than to Blaine, “All three are hurting because of me. How did I get myself into this mess?”

Blaine watches him pace for another moment before sighing. His sigh seems to snap Kurt out of his own head and he leans across the island to rest his hands on Blaine’s folded arms, “Oh my God, I’m sorry. You don’t need me having a mental freak out. This is about you.”

Blaine sighs again, “You’re allowed to be confused too, Kurt. I don’t think there is a rule book on how to handle this situation.”

Kurt pouts his lips, “Yeah, but I’m not the one who isn’t talking to his brothers. I’m the one who caused it all.”

Blaine unwinds his arms and grabs Kurt’s hands properly, “It’s not like you planned this. It’s not like you went out in search of triplet brothers, who look nothing alike I might add, to mess with. You dated, you got close to someone, and did the right thing by breaking it off with the others you didn’t feel as close to.”

Kurt nods and squeezes Blaine’s hands, “I think some of that advice could be turned around and given to you.”

Blaine bites his lips together and nods. He can’t be blamed for getting close to someone. He can’t be blamed for not knowing his brothers just so happened to be dating that same someone.

“Should I feel guilty for being happy about how it turned out?” He asks.

Kurt sighs and shrugs slightly, “Only if I should, too.”

Blaine shakes his head. This whole situation was out of their control and he can’t deny how happy he is to be with Kurt. He’ll figure out a way to make things right with his brothers. Everything will turn out okay.

“I like you a lot.” Blaine says, apropos of nothing.

Kurt smiles at him from across the island before circling it again and coming to hug Blaine. Blaine settles his knees on either side of the taller man and leans his head against Kurt’s chest as he wraps his arms around his waist.

“I like you a lot, too.” Kurt whispers into Blaine’s hair.

Blaine enjoys the hug for a minute before pulling back and looking up at Kurt, “Should you still come to the wedding?”

Kurt bites his bottom lip and tilts his head, “Do you want me to still come to the wedding?”

Blaine squeezes the arms still around Kurt’s waist slightly, “Of course I do, but that’s not really the point right now. Would it just cause more issues?”

Kurt shifts his arms so his hands are resting on Blaine’s shoulders and he looks him in the eye, “I would love to come to the wedding with you. I would love to meet your family or, you know, the rest of your family?” He scrunches one eye shut and the question actually makes them both laugh softly before Kurt settles into a soft smile, “But I do not want to do anything else that will cause you, or your brothers, any more hurt.” Blaine starts to speak but Kurt shushes him lightly, “Yes, I know the first hurts were inadvertent, but they still happened.” Blaine sighs and nods, “I will go along with whatever you want. If you want me at the wedding, I’m there. If you’d rather me stay at home, I can do that too. But your decision will not change how I feel about you.”

Blaine stares up into Kurt’s eyes and his feelings for him deepen even further at Kurt’s words. Beyond the external drama, Blaine is a little shocked at how quickly his feelings for Kurt have developed over the course of their short relationship. He’s feeling things he thinks he probably shouldn’t yet, and while he’s not ready to announce them to Kurt...they’re enough to make his decision an easy one.

“I want you there.” He whispers into the space between them, looking back and forth between Kurt’s eyes because they are that close.

Kurt smiles and leans in to press a slow kiss to Blaine’s lips. Blaine sighs and leans into it, pressing his hands more firmly into Kurt’s back to draw the other man closer still.

The kiss is deep from the start and the only sound in the room is their breathing and the wet sound of their lips and tongues coming together. There is something deeply intimate about their position to Blaine and he can feel himself responding and his heart rate pick up.

Kurt’s hands settle on either side of Blaine’s neck and he tilts Blaine’s head ever so slightly and, oh, that angle is so much better.

They make out for another minute or two before Blaine pulls back sharply, a thought suddenly occurring to him.

“Did you…” He pauses, unsure he wants to ask the question. Kurt, who is slightly out of breath with his cheeks flushed standing between Blaine’s legs, looks at him in confusion. Blaine decides he needs to know, “Did you...sleep with either of my brothers?”

He knows he’s broken the mood they were just in, especially when Kurt’s confusion turns to laughter, but he knows he couldn’t continue until he knew.

Kurt leans his forehead against Blaine’s shoulder and laughs heartily into it. Blaine soon joins him and the pair laugh in each other’s arms.

Kurt lets out a breath and hums to calm himself before pulling back and shaking his head, “No. No, I did not.”

Blaine brings a hand up to his forehead and wipes it dramatically, “Phew. I just had this mental image of you comparing our dicks and just...no.” He says and it causes them both to chuckle. Blaine scrunches one eye shut and looks up at Kurt, “Sorry for...ruining the mood.”

Kurt hums again, looks up at the ceiling as if considering, and then shrugs, “It’s okay. Probably wouldn’t be the best idea to sleep together right now. Maybe we should...wait.”

Blaine intellectually knows Kurt is right, but it’s hard to tell his body and heart that.

“We’ll have time.” Kurt whispers, leaning to press a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips.

Blaine closes his eyes and groans softly as Kurt pulls away, “We will.” He agrees.

-- -- --

“Hey. Hey Blaine.” Alex slurs a day later into his phone. He’s wobbling outside of a bar in the West Village and he thought calling Blaine would be the BEST thing to do at this particular moment, “Hey Blaine. Oh wait, I already said that. But hi. I’m mad at you. I think. Shouldn’t I be?” He scrunches up his nose and makes eye contact with another man on the sidewalk who looks at him with a quirked eyebrow and keeps going, “Yeah, I think I’m mad. You stole Kurt. You stole Kurt and his..and his penis!” He exclaims. Two young girls, in the process of passing Alex on the street, jump at the volume and then giggle as they speed walk away, “I had plans for that penis. Big plans because well...I’m sure it would have been big if you know what I mean.

“But you took him and I’m mad.” Alex sighs and then sits on the sidewalk, “And a little sad. I’m...I’m...I’m smad.” He pouts his bottom lip out and adopts a glare before giggling at his attempt to look sad and mad at the same time, “I don’t want to be smad. But I really wanted that penis. And the man it was attached to. But now you have the penis. And I just...I’m smad.”

-- -- --

Kurt’s not entirely sure why he’s here. Technically, he understands the logistics of being here, Blaine’s little sister’s rehearsal dinner, but he isn’t entirely sure he made the right decision agreeing to come.

Blaine had asked him to come. Or rather, Blaine’s sister, Amelia, had asked Blaine to ask him to come. Her thinking was that her family could meet Kurt in a less formal setting first, as opposed to having their first meeting be at her wedding (Blaine had said her exact words were ‘If you cause unnecessary drama at my wedding, I will burn all your bow ties’).

So here Kurt stands, in an admittedly fabulous outfit, next to Blaine outside the restaurant the rehearsal dinner is being held at. They are both fidgeting and side-eyeing each other.

The next time they catch each other's eyes, they both chuckle at the same time.

“Thank you for coming.” Blaine says.

Kurt shrugs, “From the sounds of things I didn’t REALLY have a choice. I haven’t even met Amelia yet and she seems like a force to be reckoned with.”

Blaine nods, “She can be.” He says on a sigh before looking back at the restaurant, “Ready?”

Kurt’s not sure he is, but he nods anyway, and the pair make their way toward the front door.

The hostess leads them to the private room the rehearsal dinner is being held in and Kurt is instantly hit with the sheer amount of people inside the relatively small room. Kurt’s not an introvert, by any means, but faced with a room of people he doesn’t know...including the family of his new boyfriend...he finds himself swallowing, thickly.

And then he remembers that everyone in this room isn’t a stranger and his eyes widen when the first people he lays eyes on are Henry and Alex. They’re hard to miss, right inside the door and talking to a short woman who, based on her physical features, can’t be anyone but their sister, Amelia.

The opening of the door draws their attention and the five of them (Alex, Henry, Amelia, Blaine, and Kurt) freeze. Kurt had kind of hoped to avoid any awkward interactions, but clearly luck isn’t on his side tonight.

“Hey!” Amelia says after a moment, breaking the silence and moving towards the pair, “You must be Kurt!” She’s hugging him before Kurt can even take his eyes off of Alex and Henry, and he hugs her back while still looking at them. Henry looks nervous and Alex’s eyes have narrowed slightly. Kurt coughs and looks away and down at the spitfire of a woman still hugging him

“Yeah. Hi. You must be Amelia. Nice to meet you and congratulations.” He says with a nervous blush rising on his cheeks.

Amelia steps back and hugs Blaine to her, who looks faintly ill as he looks beyond at his brothers.

“Thanks!” She enthuses, “Though I’m kind of glad the wedding is tomorrow. Whoever said planning a wedding was fun obviously hasn’t planned one before.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs, and while Kurt has been planning his wedding since he was six and can’t wait to put the plan into action, he laughs with her because he doesn’t want to be rude.

And then suddenly it’s like Amelia either can’t ignore the tension between the four men in the room, or she just realizes it, and looks between all four of them with a look of apprehension. When no one else speaks or even looks at one another, she sighs and puts her hands on her hips.

“This is ridiculous. Hug. Each. Other!” She orders with a glare at each of her brothers.

Blaine, Alex, and Henry all seem to collectively pout, but none move to follow the order of their little sister. Kurt’s pretty sure the order didn’t extend to him but...it’s so awkward he’s actually considering just going for it and hugging someone.

Amelia rolls her eyes before grabbing Blaine’s elbow, “All right. We are going to talk this out like the adults we all pretend to be. That way you can go back to normal and not ruin my wedding.”

She gestures for Alex and Henry to follow her and it appears this order they will follow. Kurt is simultaneously glad to no longer have to deal with this awkwardness, but also a little terrified that Blaine is about to leave him in a room full of strangers.

The siblings are almost out of the room when Amelia stops and turns back to Kurt with a raised eyebrow, “Are you coming?”

Kurt’s eyes widen in surprise and terror. His presence is required?

Amelia gives him a pointed stare before leading her brothers from the room. Kurt hesitates, momentarily, before deciding staying with Blaine is probably the best course of action (and not angering Amelia any further) and following them out to a quiet section of the restaurant.

For the second time this evening, Kurt wonders how he ended up here.

“All right.” Amelia starts as she looks at her brothers in front of her. The four men are standing in a loose square, with Kurt awkwardly standing to Blaine’s right, “You all need to get over this. I should not be feeling anxious over YOUR love lives and especially not the day before the most important day of MY life.”

Alex crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, “This is all Blaine’s fault.”

Amelia throws her hands up in the air in exasperation but it’s Blaine who answers, “Are you seven?” He asks, incredulously, and the question just makes Alex’s arms cross tighter, “Because that’s how you’re acting. This is like the time mom and dad bought us scooters for our birthday and you got pissed that I got the red one because you wanted the red one.”

Kurt furrows his brow, “Are you likening me to a scooter?”

His question goes unanswered as Alex huffs indignantly, “I really liked him!” He defends.

Blaine rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I got that much from the message you sent me. You know, at first I felt sort of bad for what happened, that maybe it WAS my fault. But it’s not really. I just met a guy and fell in…” He hesitates and Kurt turns to him wide eyed. Blaine swallows thickly and doesn’t meet Kurt’s eye before continuing, “I really didn’t need you talking about how much you want my boyfriend’s dick. Now I’M mad.”

Kurt’s wide eyes widen further before moving to look at the ground. He feels his cheeks heat up in an embarrassed flush. He’s not really shy when it comes to sex related topics like he was in high school, but something about this situation just makes it all the more strange.

The space they’re in goes quiet and Kurt isn’t sure if anyone is going to break the silence. He doesn’t really want the last thing said in this trainwreck of a conversation to be about his penis.

He coughs and all heads swivel toward him. He blinks at each face before landing on Blaine’s and biting his lip, “I...think I’m going to go.” He says, and it’s not until it’s out of his mouth that he realizes he had wanted to say those words.

Blaine’s eyes widen and he steps closer, grabbing Kurt’s hand, “Please don’t.” He whispers.

Kurt looks quickly at the other faces in the space before focussing back on Blaine. He really doesn’t want to say this with Blaine’s brothers and sister in the room, but again his mouth acts before his brain can catch up, “I don’t want to come between you and your family.” He whispers, pleading with his eyes for Blaine to understand.

Blaine shakes his head, “You aren’t.”

Kurt smiles sadly, “I am. I just...can’t be the reason why three brothers are fighting.” He looks around the room again, the other three faces looking on curiously, before turning back to Blaine who looks pained, “I’m sorry.” He whispers and then pulls his hand out of Blaine’s, “I’m...sorry.” He says a little louder to Alex, Henry, and Amelia, before he turns and walks out of the restaurant.

The fact that his heart hurts when he hits the parking lot doesn’t go unnoticed.

-- -- --

Amelia’s wedding is a beautiful, elegant affair the next day. The flowers arrive on time, no one trips down the aisle, Amelia and Sam both tear up during their vows, and if anyone notices the slightly subdued nature of the three men of honour...they don’t comment.

Blaine thinks he and his brothers do a pretty good job at keeping it together during the ceremony and pictures. They act like nothing's wrong and even their parents don’t seem to pick up on the fact that there is a giant elephant in the room.

During the reception, the three of them deliver their joint speech flawlessly (complete with jokes, heartfelt memories, and perfectly timed segways) and Blaine gives a sigh of relief when Amelia beams at them from her seat beside her new husband.

It’s not until the dancing begins that Blaine really lets his mask drop. He finds a seat at an empty table and nurses a glass of wine. He rests his forearms on his legs and lets the glass dangle between his knees.

Kurt was supposed to be here. Blaine was supposed to be introducing his new boyfriend to his family, cuddling up on the dance floor during sappy wedding slow songs, and maybe getting a little drunk and handsy. Instead, he’s spent the day pretending he isn’t hurting.

He sighs as the song changes (it’s a pretty damn good playlist if he says so himself) before he sees black out of the corner of his eye. He closes his eyes, ready to put on a brave face for whatever family member has decided to descend upon him, only to look up to find Henry standing in front of him.

“May I?” His brother asks, gesturing to the seat next to Blaine. Blaine nods and straightens slightly, something in the back of his mind finding it wrong that Henry feels he needs to ask permission to sit next to his brother.

Henry sits next to him with a sigh and looks out over the dance floor. Blaine realizes in that moment that Henry has been pretty quiet since they found out about their shared dating experience. He hasn’t said much on the issue or expressed his feelings in any way. Blaine really hopes he’s not about to get into a shouting match at their sister’s wedding.

“I freaked out.” Henry says. Blaine turns to look at him but Henry is still looking out at the dance floor, “Kurt was the first guy to ever make me feel something like that, and then suddenly he was calling things off to be with you, and I had this giant crisis. Had everything I felt been a lie? An experiment? For nothing?” He shakes his head before sighing again and looking at Blaine, “But my feelings have nothing to do with you and Kurt. None of this is your fault, Blaine. And I’m sorry if I made you think it was.”

Blaine sucks in a deep breath through his nose and holds it for a second before letting it out. He had been expecting tension, not an apology. He also can’t believe he didn’t think to check in on his brother. Of course he’d be analyzing what it all meant.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask how you were feeling about all of...that.” Blaine says.

Henry shrugs before smiling, “It’s okay. It’s not like me overthinking and freaking out is a NEW experience.”

Blaine chuckles softly, “Still. I should have asked. Are you...okay with everything?”

Henry nods looking out over the dance floor again, “I think I am. Or at least...I’m getting there. Maybe Kurt will be the only guy to do anything for me and maybe not. I’m willing to keep my options open.”

Blaine smiles and nods, “Good.” He says.

“I’m growing as a person.” Henry says, dryly, and they chuckle lightly. Henry turns back to Blaine and lays a hand on Blaine’s knee, “How about you? Have you heard from Kurt?”

The question makes Blaine’s chest hurt a little before he shakes his head, “Not since he left yesterday.”

Henry nods, “He’ll come around.” He says, encouragingly.

Blaine bites his lip to keep from either rambling or crying. He doesn’t want to do either. He’s not even sure how he truly feels or what he would even say...though he guesses when you ramble it’s less important what it is you actually say.

He ends up just shrugging and the pair go back to watching the happy people on the dance floor.

“Amelia is beautiful today.” Blaine muses.

“She really is.”

Blaine jumps slightly because it’s not Henry who responds. Both men turn in the seats to see Alex standing behind them. He’s got his hands in his pockets and his head tipped down, looking at them through his lashes.

“Hey, can I...talk to you?” He asks Blaine.

Blaine looks at Henry, who shrugs, before Blaine nods and gets up. He passes his glass to Henry and then follows Alex out of the ballroom into the main lobby. He’s not sure if he and Alex are about to fight again, and he’s not entirely sure if he WANTS to fight again, but all speculation flies from his brain when he sees Kurt standing by chairs in the lobby.

Blaine stops walking and stares open mouthed. He looks back and forth between Alex, who has also stopped halfway between Kurt and Blaine, and Kurt who is standing with his hands in his pockets and biting his lip.

“What…?” Blaine starts.

Alex sighs, “I called Kurt. Explained to him that I’m kind of an ass sometimes. But hey, it’s part of my charm.” He says with a wide, cheeky smile, before sobering again, “None of this was either of your faults. None of this was any of our faults. But what is MY fault was how I reacted to it.” He turns more fully to Blaine, “I’m sorry. I’m no longer mad, I’m no longer sad, and none of that should have been directed at you.”

Blaine nods with a slow smile. He doesn’t really know what else to do right now other than to hug his brother. He’s opened his arms and begun to move toward him when Alex puts his hand up to stop him.

“Just wait, I’m not done. We can hug it out in a minute.” He says.

Blaine’s brow furrows in confusion but he does stop and watches as Alex turns toward Kurt, “I wanted to say sorry to you too, Kurt. I should never have treated you that way...even over a voicemail to my brother.”

Kurt’s eyes are wide as if he wasn’t expecting an apology before he nods.

Alex nods too and then turns to Blaine, “All right. You can hug me now.” He says, opening his own arms.

Blaine chuckles before closing the distance and wrapping his arms around his brother, “I’m sorry for all of this.”

Alex pulls back, “You have nothing to apologize for. You met a boy and you fell in…” He pauses with a knowing smirk and Blaine blushes and diverts his eyes for a second, “I was the only one who had to apologize. And I did.” He smiles, “I must be growing as a person.”

Blaine smiles at the statement Henry said to him minutes before, though as opposed to sarcastic, Alex seems proud.

“You are.” Blaine agrees.

Alex tilts his head in Kurt’s direction, “Go get your man. I’m going to go see if Sam’s friend Mike is single and open to the attention of men.” He waggles his eyebrows and Blaine laughs. Still the same old Alex.

Alex pats Blaine on the arm and then he’s gone, back into the ballroom. When the door closes behind him, Kurt and Blaine are left in silence.

Blaine walks slowly toward him, “Hi.” He whispers when he’s close.

Kurt bites his lip again and smiles, “Hi.”

“So...” Blaine looks around as if he’s searching for something, “You...aren’t coming between me and my brothers anymore. Not that you actually were, but now you DEFINITELY aren’t.”

“It would appear that I’m not.” Kurt agrees with a nod.

“So…” Blaine says again, “does that mean anything for...us?”

Kurt shrugs and looks around the lobby for a moment. Blaine’s stomach drops at the shrug, but when Kurt turns to him with a smirk, Blaine’s stomach fills with hopeful butterflies.

“Come here.” Kurt says, grabbing Blaine by the tie and pulling him forward into a kiss.

Blaine melts into it and he’ll blame the stress and uncertainty on the needy moan he lets out.

They’re just getting into a groove, and Blaine may or may not be thinking about a place in this building they could go to truly be alone, when a ‘whoop’ sounds from behind them.

They both jump and pull apart, looking at each other with wide eyes before turning simultaneously toward the ballroom to find Henry, Alex, and Amelia leaning out of the door with wide smiles on their faces.

“Yay Blainers!” Amelia claps and Blaine and Kurt chuckle at her enthusiasm.

Henry puts a hand on his sister’s shoulder, perhaps in an effort to calm her, and Blaine feels his heart fill with happiness as his three siblings beam at him from the doorway.

Henry pulls slightly on Amelia’s shoulder and the pair turn to go back into the ballroom. Alex remains in the doorway, and while he looks to where his sister and brother just disappeared, he turns back to Blaine and he once again waggles his eyebrows with a wink. A moment later, Henry returns and pulls Alex back to the ballroom.

Blaine can hear Alex complaining about missing the good part before he turns back to a smiling Kurt with a smile of his own. He takes a deep breath and reaches out to grab Kurt’s hand, “Do you...want to come meet the rest of my family?”

Kurt squeezes his hand and jiggles it lightly, “I would love to.”

Blaine didn’t think his smile could get any bigger, and yet he feels his cheek muscles stretch even further, before he tugs on Kurt’s hand and leads him to the ballroom.

The End

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #glee potluck big bang #my loves #my stuff #3 on 1

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