#maybe it’s no longer belated maybe I’m just early for her next birthday
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A ouija board and planchette made from @firesidetextiles fabric! The board itself has quilt batting to provide a little structure and the backing fabric is dark gray. The planchette’s backing is gold minky and it’s filled with polyfil stuffing
#sewing#handmade#firesidetextiles fabric#ouija board#plush ouija board#well…kind of? lol#I am proud of that planchette I wasn’t sure I could make it work to make there actually be a hole in the middle of the planchette#but it worked!! :D#I know absolutely nothing about ouija boards but my friend liked this fabric#this is an extremely belated birthday present for her lol I meant to make it like…nine months ago?#maybe it’s no longer belated maybe I’m just early for her next birthday#yeah let’s go with that lol
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birthday wishes
rating: t
warnings: v v brief angst at the beginning, but never fear, major fluff ahead!!
pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader
word count: 1.2k
a/n: so, this is my little belated birthday present to @mxndoscyarika, because she deserves something special for her birthday and I can’t give her a physical present 🥺I hope you enjoy this lil drabble babe!!!!
Opening the door to a dark apartment, you sighed in disappointment. Yet another birthday had passed, with the barest minimum of acknowledgement. You didn’t want anything fancy or extravagant, just a simple “Happy Birthday!” would’ve been nice. The only birthday wish you’d received had come through text from your boyfriend, Marcus, who was on the opposite side of the states on a case with the FBI. He’d felt horrible about missing your birthday, but you’d assured him it was fine. And it was–really, it was. You were a strong, independent woman, you didn’t need any fancy parties or sweeping gestures of affection. You’d just settle in with a glass of wine, and maybe read a little bit of that novel you’d been putting off starting, and definitely not spending any time thinking about the fact that the one thing you wanted for your birthday was a couple thousand miles away.
Setting your bag down on the counter, you opened up the fridge to grab the bottle of wine, only to frown when you realized it was conspicuously absent. Closing the fridge, you checked the counters around your kitchen, but still no wine.
“What in the world did I do with it?” You muttered under your breath, feeling like you might be starting to lose it. You could’ve sworn you’d put it in the fridge last night, and you honestly can’t think of any other place it could be.
As you turned in a circle, surveying the rest of your darkened living room, you noticed the light coming from underneath your bedroom door. What the hell. You knew you’d turned the light off this morning. Cautiously walking towards your bedroom door, you strained to try and hear any noise that might be coming from inside. You doubted that a burglar would break in, steal the wine out of your fridge, and settle into your bedroom, but who knew?
Reaching the door, you grasped the handle, cautiously turning it and slowly pushing the door open. Your eyes widened in shock and surprise as you took in the scene before you.
Your bedroom had been completely transformed. Fairy lights were strung along the walls and across the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow. Multiple candles were lit around the room, your favorite scent hanging in the air. And around your bed, an elaborate fort had been constructed, blankets propped up with random pieces of furniture, creating a cozy looking haven. Fresh sheets and blankets and pillows covered your bed, and your missing bottle of wine was resting on your nightstand, next to two glasses.
Suddenly, the bathroom door opened, and there, silhouetted in the doorway stood the culprit behind the drastic changes to your bedroom.
Marcus looked surprised at your appearance for all of about two seconds, before a beautiful smile spread across his lips, and he leaned against the doorway. “Hey baby.”
You gasped, one shaking hand coming up to cover your mouth as you stared at your boyfriend in shock. He was dressed down, a pair of grey sweatpants and his favorite cream sweater, and his hair was still slightly damp, probably from the shower. He took a step forward and it propelled you into action, and you crossed the room in two strides, falling immediately into his open arms.
His hand buried itself in your hair and his other arm came up around your back, crushing you against his body. “Happy birthday, honey,” he whispered in your ear as you clutched the fabric of his sweater in your grasp.
“I thought-?” You began quietly, pulling back to look at him. “But your case-?”
“We wrapped up early.” He answered, dark eyes glittering with happiness and a little bit of mischief. “I wanted to surprise you.”
You chuckled weakly. “Well, consider me surprised.” You felt so overwhelmed, but in absolutely the best way. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to his, unable to wait a second longer to kiss him. He responded enthusiastically, pulling your body even closer to his in his eagerness.
Just as you were about to get carried away, Marcus pulled back, chuckling lowly when you tried to follow his lips. “Go get changed, honey. I wanna spend the rest of the night holding you in my arms.”
Your heart thumped painfully in your chest at his words. You weren’t sure how it was possible that you could love someone this much. He let you go, almost reluctantly, and gently nudged you towards the closet.
Stepping away from him, you wasted no time in stripping off your work clothes, choosing to throw on a pair of shorts and one of Marcus’ old tee-shirts. Maybe another night you would’ve put on some lingerie, but you knew Marcus didn’t care what you wore, and you just wanted to be comfortable.
Walking back into the bedroom, you saw Marcus already lounged on the bed, nestled amongst the blankets and pillows. He’d poured wine into the two glasses, and he looked up from taking a sip and smiled softly when he saw what you’d chosen to wear.
Crawling onto the bed, you snuggled up next to him, your head resting on his chest, right over his heart. He handed you your glass of wine, and you took a sip before handing it back. With his arms around you, you felt the worries and the stresses of the day, the week just melt away.
Marcus crooked one finger under your chin, gently tipping your head up to capture your lips. He kissed you softly, and it felt like coming home. He coaxed your mouth open so that he could deepen the kiss, his hand gently cupping your jaw as he drew you closer to him.
You went willingly, giving just as good as you got. Reaching up, you buried your hand in his soft, fluffy hair, tugging at the strands gently, causing Marcus to groan into your mouth. His other hand was heavy on your hip, keeping you pressed against his side.
“I swear, I’m done with these month-long, cross-country cases,” Marcus muttered, his lips brushing against yours with every word. “I can only take so many nights alone in bed without you before I go crazy.”
Your heart fluttered, and you couldn’t help the little smile that spread across your lips. “Well, I’m certainly not opposed to that,” you offered cautiously. “A-As long as you don’t feel like I’m holding you back-”
“No, no honey, never,” he swore. “I’m getting too old to keep traipsing around the country, especially when I’d much rather be spending my time with you.”
His declaration earned him another kiss, which turned into another, which turned into another. You have no idea how long you spent laying there, trading kisses and cuddled up to each other. Eventually, you fell asleep, nestled in his arms, your birthday wish coming true after all.
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the same magic touch
happiest belated birthday to @patrickbrewsky! one day i’ll finish the AU you deserve but for today i can give you this, inspired by a conversation we had a while back ❤️️(ps: it’s also on ao3)
“Why are you throwing that sweater out?”
Patrick looks up from the bin, fabric in hand. He feels caught out somehow, but he’s not sure why. “It has a hole in it?”
David stares him down from his spot by the bathroom door. “Why are you ripping holes in your best sweater?”
“I didn’t plan for this to happen,” Patrick protests. “It was totally innocent.”
“Hand it over.” David crosses Patrick’s apartment, narrowly missing clipping the bed with his knee, limbs akimbo the way they always are this early in the morning. Patrick lets David take the sweater from him, perhaps to say a fond farewell, and turns to start David’s coffee. He didn’t know David liked this sweater best; David’s peeled it off of him more than once, but that’s true of most of his shirts at this point.
For some reason, David folds the sweater and puts it in his bag instead of the trash where it belongs. “What are you going to do with that?”
David looks at him like he’s being difficult. “Excuse me?”
“If you’re trying to clone me, that sweater got ripped in the wash so you’ll want something less fresh.” Patrick grabs for the cocoa powder he keeps in his cupboard and that David still won’t look directly at.
“Why would I clone you before they let me edit out your sense of humor?”
“You love my sense of humor.”
David is scrolling through something on his phone now, clearly past the sweater conversation, but he looks up and smiles when Patrick slides his coffee across the counter. “I have very intentionally never said that.”
“Just like how you’re not saying what you’re going to do with my—”
“The tear is on the seam.” David shrugs and takes a sip, wrinkling his nose in the way that means he tastes the cocoa but will not be commenting on it at this time. “It’ll take, like, five minutes to fix.”
“And you know someone who’s willing to do that? Because the only person I can think of is Jocelyn, and I know you two have that begrudging acceptance thing going but I don’t think it extends to me.”
“She likes you too, you know. She told me last week that you were the best Emcee they could have cast.”
“That’s very sweet.” Patrick tilts his head. “But I don’t know there were any other contenders, so it probably sounds better than it is.” But they’re getting off topic now. “Wait, no. Who’s fixing this sweater?”
“I’m fixing the sweater.” David grabs his bag and sets the mug in the sink. “Should we go? We’re going to open late otherwise.”
David’s concern for keeping normal opening hours more than anything else tells Patrick that he’s missing something. Still: “You’re going to fix it.”
“That is correct.” David sighs. “Can we please go? If you wait much longer I’ll lose all this energy and then you’ll have to open by yourself.”
Patrick rolls his lips in and bites down. “How many sweaters have you mended, exactly? Because you talked for an hour once about all the cashmere sweaters you lost to moths.”
“Cashmere is different. Anyway, I’m not, like, totally helpless,” David says. “I went to art school.”
Patrick privately thinks that the sentence might be an oxymoron, but he can acknowledge his own bias here. He took a pottery class in college as his “understanding art” elective; he and his fellow business majors had a lot to say about the cost of equipment and the annoyance of waiting around for the clay to bake. And then after all of that, his glaze was cracked and uneven. “Do they teach stitching there? Like, a whole class?”
“Mm.” David’s mouth is a thin line. “Right after the Etch-A-Sketch one.”
Patrick may have overshot it. “That didn’t—”
“Go to the store. I’ll be there in an hour.”
Patrick sets the spare key on the counter and elects to retreat.
***
“This is earlier than I was expecting to see you.”
David makes a beeline for the macchiato Patrick set in a prominent place on the counter in a spot near the door. He didn’t want David to miss it. “I said an hour.”
The teasing is right there; Patrick has to consciously push down countless other times where David has wildly miscalculated his arrival time. Instead, he takes a breath and prepares for a real apology. They’re a new thing for the two of them—after his parents came to town, Patrick’s been making communication a priority. It’s mostly his idea, but it was spurred on by some...gentle suggestion from Stevie. He doesn’t want to keep falling back into old habits, and he’s not going to put the burden on David to keep him accountable.
But David has not been exceptionally amenable to this new strategy. “Stop,” he says once he’s taken a drink and turned to look at Patrick. “Enough. Thank you for the coffee.”
He drops a kiss on Patrick’s cheek and continues on to the back room. Patrick entertains the idea of following him, but the bell above the door chimes again and he pushes down the conversation they need to have. Not forever, he tells himself sternly. Just until closing. Or lunch, if he can rig them a break.
But it’s Ronnie crossing the threshold, so maybe they do need to finish their relationship discussion. Maybe close the store for the day, or something.
“Ronnie!” Patrick winces at the enthusiasm he can hear in his own voice. David keeps saying that he’s forcing it, which might be valid. “What are you looking for today?”
Ronnie lifts her chin but doesn’t make eye contact. “David here?”
Still trying too hard, then. “He’s in the back. I’ll get him.”
Apparently he heard them, because David’s already peeking out. “Sorry about that, Ronnie. Back for that cheese or is it something else?”
Ronnie lets David curate a cheese plate for her next Women in Business meeting and suggest some wine pairings; Patrick bites back his own opinions to the best of his ability. Or, he does after Ronnie pointedly sets the chardonnay back on the shelf after he says it’s his favorite.
David rings her up and sees her off, and Patrick opens his mouth again to take advantage of a lull. Then the phone rings.
“Can you take that?” David asks. “I want to figure out what we need for that greeting card workshop next month. Jo likes it when we order with at least three weeks’ notice, and they gave us that frame for the poster last time as a thank you so I don’t want to—”
Patrick waves him off before the phone goes to voicemail. “I got it.”
Fortunately for their stocking schedule, it’s Brenda. They’ve been running low on the moisturizer she’s trying out recently, and they need to get more on the shelf as soon as she has it ready. Unfortunately for him, Brenda called seeking opinions about her new combination skin formula and the essential oil blend. David informed Patrick early on that he had combination skin, but Patrick senses that Brenda will not find this information useful. He bides his time and lets Brenda talk until David catches on to his frantic gestures.
They don't teach this in business school. He lets his eyes drift from David's face (a struggle, sometimes) to the bag at his boyfriend's feet. They don't teach a lot of things in business school.
Patrick passes off the phone and greets the next customers, who thankfully do not have any qualms about his personality. Then he checks the stock spreadsheet. They’re getting low on sweaters and socks after the cold snap last week, so he flags the vendors for David to email and sets about filling in the blank spots on the shelves after a busy morning.
The sound of David’s voice soothes Patrick’s nerves even more than the playlist he and David made together in a process that started adversarial (“Smooth jazz? Why not just get a Muzak?” “People shop in those stores too, David.”) and turned playful after they decided on a one-for-one system. Patrick’s alt-folk mixes surprisingly seamlessly with the Whitneys and Mariahs David added. Even the Counting Crows Patrick put on the list just to be contrary fits, in a way.
“Everything okay with Brenda?” Patrick asks after David drops the phone back into his holder. “Are you going to put a new cleanser in my bathroom soon?”
“I don’t see why those two things are necessarily related,” David says, “but yes to both.”
“Good to know.” They might be able to flip the sign for lunch if they’re quick; clouds are gathering in the sky outside in a way that spells a dreary afternoon. “Want me to pick us up something?”
Patrick heads for the door at David’s nod of assent. Even though they haven’t talked about it, he still feels like he’s making up for something. Hopefully that will change. He’s jumping into this new talking strategy with both feet, and he just hopes that David will catch him.
Silly, he thinks as he crosses the street. David has never once let him fall.
Twyla greets him with a sunny smile and asks if they want their usual. For him, a burger is pretty standard, but David keeps vacillating between different soups, sandwiches, and salads. It’s a caesar salad day today; though Patrick would love to read into David’s mood from his choice, he knows better than that by now. David just does what he wants sometimes. As for Patrick, he’s mostly just happy that David is limiting the chance that he won’t like his food. He worked through the international section of the menu last week and spent three afternoons in a row cranky due to hunger and the continual failure of the café to meet his admittedly unrealistic expectations. He does add a cookie, because communication is great and all but it’s always good to have an insurance policy if things go south.
Back at the store, David’s handing over a Rose Apothecary tote to Roland and he’s not even grimacing. Much. There’s definite relief in his eyes when Patrick holds the door for Roland, though. It’s quickly replaced by confusion when Patrick flips the sign.
“I thought we could eat lunch together?” Patrick resists the urge to kick at the ground like a teenager, but it’s there. “We haven’t had much time to just...see each other. Today.”
“I saw plenty of you this morning.” David raises an eyebrow suggestively.
Patrick fights his easy blush; that’s beside the point. “That’s not—”
“You know I never complain about seeing you,” David continues. “But Roland said Jocelyn is going to stop by later, so we’ll have to keep an eye out.”
Patrick thinks Jocelyn can probably wait, but he keeps that to himself. He waits until they’re settled on the couch with David’s left thigh pressing against his right and David can’t talk past his mouthful of lettuce before he broaches the topic. “I did want to talk about this morning.”
David’s eyes widen as he chews, but he does look a little less frantic than he would months or even a year ago if Patrick said something similar.
While David can’t cut him off, Patrick presses his advantage. “I didn’t want to make you feel like you’re helpless. I don’t think you’re helpless.”
David rolls his eyes, but there’s something tight around his mouth that tells Patrick he has to do a little more here. He swallows, so Patrick hurries to finish his thought.
“I think you’re...you do a lot that I don’t do.”
“And you do a lot I don’t do.”
“I don’t think—no, I know, I know I don’t think about that enough.”
Something suspicious dissipates from David’s face. “Is this your whole talking thing again?”
“I don’t have a whole talking thing,” Patrick protests.
“You’ve had a whole talking thing for weeks now. Do you want me to run through all of my skills, or is it sufficient to just say that we’re okay?”
Patrick definitely had prepared to run through all of David’s skills, but he elects to save that for another time. Maybe tonight, when he has more ability to keep David in one place until he’s finished saying what he wants to say. “It’s enough. For now.”
“Threatening me with conversation.” David shakes his head. But he doesn’t take another bite, so he’s at least somewhat worried that Patrick will drop all of his feelings right this moment.
“You can eat, David.”
David lifts his fork cautiously.
So Patrick has no choice, really. “I love you.”
Patrick wants to frame the look David gives him, cheeks slightly bulging and eyes furious and generally perfect.
They unlock the front door in time to catch Jocelyn, and Patrick finds himself still cataloguing David’s competencies for the rest of the day. That night, Patrick sees his sweater, repaired and neatly folded in the way that David says limits wrinkles, hidden in his drawer under a college sweatshirt. It looks as good as new. “Thanks for the sweater.”
“Well, the cloning people were unhelpful. Said I’d have to keep all of you if I went for a new one, and I don’t have the constitution to be mocked twice as often.”
Patrick can’t let it go without saying something, though. “David. Thank you.” That should cover his whole talking thing for now. David still looks at him like he’s a too-large shipment that won’t fit in the planned display. Back to teasing, then. “You know, I had a thought.” Patrick affects his most guileless expression as he slides into bed next to his boyfriend. David’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Since you’re so good at this, and you went to art school and all, maybe you can help with costumes for Cabaret.”
Patrick enjoys the horrified look that blooms across David’s face probably too much. “I’m suddenly feeling very helpless.”
“Could be worse,” Patrick says. “At least there’s only one of me to deal with.”
#patrickbrewsky#this is where i would normally say 'everyone go wish em a happy birthday' but like#it was last week so i hope it already happened#anyway david is very smart and has no common sense pass it on#we love to see it because we love to be it#my fic#schitt's creek fic#schitt's creek fanfiction#schitt's creek fanfic#schitts creek fic#schitts creek fanfic#schitts creek fanfiction#david x patrick
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Reunited
A bit of belated birthday fluff for @thegoldensoundtwice. She requested a story involving Blaggut.
*
Some distance away from Redwall, in the heart of Mossflower along a broad bend in a meandering stream, there stood a cozy little house built into a naturally-formed cave. The land around the house was plentiful, abundant in fruit-bearing trees and berry-bushes. A creature could live there quite comfortably without worrying about finding enough food.
A score of paces away from the house, down where the land gently sloped into the stream, a lone creature worked on the project that consumed most of his days. The creature, a rat named Blaggut, worked hard sanding down the keel of the small boat he was working on. Many seasons of hard work and trial and error had taught him the right way of making a study and safe watercraft. This craft would be a fine little boat once he was finished, but he still needed to finish sanding before caulking and sealing the outer surfaces.
Blaggut took a few minutes to sit and rest, soaking his paws in the cool stream and listening to the gentle rippling of the water as it flowed past him. He had a good life in Mossflower. Though the winters could be harsh, he found that he was attached to the peaceful woodland, and it was rare that he found himself missing his life on the high seas.
A quiet rustling of the bushes pulled him from his thoughts, and a voice called out, “Hullo there, Mister Blackguts!”
Blaggut turned around and saw a young pair of creatures, a mouse and a mole, enter his homestead, followed by a fully-grown squirrel. A broad smile appeared on Blaggut’s face, showing off his crooked and broken teeth. “Little mateys!” he exclaimed happily getting up to meet them. When they drew near, he pulled them both into a hug, one in each arm. “You’ve done quite a bit o’ growin’ since I last sees ya.”
The two young creatures were no longer the little Dibbuns Blaggut had known at the Abbey. Though far from fully grown, they had become much taller over the past seasons. They were still young beasts by any measure, though they were old enough to be wearing the proper green habits of the Redwall brothers and sisters.
“We’ve been a’missin’ ye fiercely, Mister Blaggut,” the molemaid said as she wrapped her arms around Blaggut’s waist.
“I’ve missed ye too, Furrtil,” Blaggut said as a happy tear formed in his eye. “And ye as well, um, Mousebabe.”
The young male mouse chuckled as he let Blaggut go. “Never did get much of a proper name, did I? Folks call me Embee now. Get it? Mousebabe, M, B, Embee.”
Blaggut shrugged. “Still haven’t learned much o’ letterin’ or spellin’, but ye’ll always be little Mousebabe to me,” he ruffled his friend’s headfur. “Did ye bring ‘em out here just to see me, Tom?” he asked of the squirrel who had stood silently off to the side.
Oak Tom, a robust and sturdy squirrel, nodded. “They’ve been begging to come out here for a while. I finally couldn’t say no anymore.”
“Well, thank ye for bringin’ ‘em here. I’ve been missin’ me little Redwall friends. What have ye been up to? Stayin’ out o’ trouble, I hope.”
“Oh, I still get in plenty of trouble,” Embee said with a mischievous grin, “but most days when I’m not in the Abbeyschool I’m helping in the infirmary. Brother Simeon thinks I have the makings of a healer.”
“Oi be a learnin’ ‘ow to be a Cellarmole,” Furril said proudly. “Durry Quill be teachin’ me to be makin’ ales an’ cordials.”
“That’s wonderful, little mates.” Blaggut said, still smiling.
“Do you like living out in Mossflower, Mister Blaggut?” Embee asked. “Do other creatures treat you well?”
“It took a while for some o’ them to get used to an ol’ searat living nearby, but those shrews and otters seem to like ‘aving somebeast to build and fix up their boats.”
“Do you even get lonely out here?”
“I used to, but I made a very good friend. I’ll introduce you.” He called toward his house, “Ivy, me mates from Redwall have come to visit. Come out an’ meet ‘em.”
A female rat stepped out into the doorway of the cave-house. She raised a paw and shyly waved at the newcomers.
“Ivy don’t say much, but she don’t mean anything by it,” Blaggut explained. “I’m sure she’s glad to meet you all.”
Ivy nodded with a faint hint of a smile. Embee saw she was holding her other paw to her noticeably swollen abdomen.
“Missus Ivy, are you having a baby?”
“That she is,” Blaggut said proudly. “Our first. Our own little babe.”
Both Furrtil and Embee squealed in excitement. Oak Tom patted Blaggut on the back. “Congratulations to you both.”
“You should bring her to Redwall when the baby is ready to be born,” Embee suggested. “The healers there have delivered lots of babies.”
“I was thinkin’ o’ doin’ that,” Blaggut said. “I wouldn’t know the first thing t’ do.”
“Have ye finished a’buildin’ any boats, Mister Blaggut?”Furrtil asked as she looked the piles of lumber and half-finished vessels scattered around the area.
“I’ve got one beauty that’s almost finished, and I have a nice little rowboat that still needs to have its maiden voyage. How’d ye like to have a boat ride down to the pond, little mates?”
Furrtil and Embee were excited to have a chance to ride in one of Blaggut’s boat. With Oak Tom, they piled into the rowboat. Ivy stayed behind to make lunch and look after the house.
Having spent much of his early life on the water, Blaggut was an excellent navigator on the water. He rowed the boat down a side-branch of the stream, leading to a large pond, which some beasts may have called a forest lake.
The waters on the pond were calm, only interrupted by the splashes of the little fish or by the dragonflies skimming along the surface. In the safety of the pond, Blaggut handed the oars over to Furtill and Embee, letting his young friends row the boat wherever their hearts desired.
Furtill and Embee moved the craft all around the pond for a while, but the exertion combined with the warmth of the sun soon made them sleepy. As they leaned against each other and dozed off, Blaggut took control of the boat once again.
“Bless ‘em, they’ve dropped right to sleep,” Blaggut said to Oak Tom. “We can head back slow and wake them up for lunch.” He turned the boat around and began rowing back up the stream.
“You know you’d be welcome back at Redwall,” Oak Tom said quietly to Blaggut so as not to wake the young ones. “You and Ivy could both stay there for as long as you wanted.”
“I know, Tom, and I would like that very much, especially if I got to see my little friends every day, but I don’t think I can go back there for long. It reminds me too much of what I used to be, an’ what me an ol’ Slipp did.”
“We don’t blame you for that,” Oak Tom assured him. “You paid your debt a long time ago.”
“I think it’s for the best if I just visits every now and again. I’m going to be busy soon, what with my own babe an’ all.”
“Have you thought up names for your child?”
Blaggut pondered for a minute. “If it’s a maid, I was thinkin’ o’ callin’ ‘er Mellus.” He paused and looked at Oak Tom. “D’ye think that’d be all right?”
The squirrel smiled. “I think that’d be wonderful, friend.”
The boat softly bumped up to the shore near Blaggut’s home. Oak Tom and Blaggut gently lifted the young ones from the boat and set them on a soft spot in the shade of a willow tree, letting them slumber a while longer while Ivy finished stirring up a pot of soup.
Both Furtill and Embee sat next to Blaggut as they ate, peppering him with questions between mouthfuls. He was more than happy to answer whatever they asked. When the meal was over, it was time for Oak Tom to take the two young ones back to the Abbey.
“Will you come and visit soon, Mr. Blaggut?” Embee asked.
“We’s been a’missin’ ye sommat awrful,” Furtill added.
“Ye can be sure I will, little mates,” Blaggut assured them. “Maybe ye can be baby-minders once me little one is growed a bit.”
The two young ones gave Blaggut a final hug and Oak Tom gave him a friendly paw shake. Blaggut watched his friends disappear into the dense foliage of Mossflower woods, already missing them and looking forward to the next time he would see them.
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Fast Forward
Chapter 15
The plans you’d made for Monday night to seduce Taron went straight out the window after that phone call. He was the last person you wanted to see or speak to, so with your Mum out the house at her book club you settled down on the sofa with your Dad to watch a film. He kept looking at you instead of the TV screen and eventually asked if you were alright because you’d been quiet all afternoon and evening. You could only smile and nod in reply, knowing that anything more would have you in tears instantly. As your phone started to ring on the coffee table next to your feet you sighed, thinking it would be Taron, then frowned as the name on screen said Gemma.
“Two minutes.” You said to your Dad as you picked it up and left the living room to answer it. “Hey Gem.”
“What have you done?” She replied bluntly.
“What have I done? Nothing.”
“So why have I just had Taron calling me, stressed out as fuck, because you won’t go home?”
“Really!?”
“Yes, really! So what have you done? Or what has he done?” Gemma immediately accused.
“Nothing!” You defended instantly. “I’m at home taking care of my Dad after his operation. I don’t understand this at all, why is Taron calling you?” It was so out of character for him to reach out to one of your friends that your heart was pounding in your chest with anxiety. Something was massively wrong, and despite being kept in the dark, you couldn’t help but feel like it was all your fault.
“He said he asked you to come home and you refused, and then begged me to call you and try and get you back here. He sounded so upset and panicked by it all, so I said I’d talk to you and do my best… But I’m not gonna lie, I feel massively in the middle of you both and don’t want to say the wrong thing!”
“Why has he made this into a big deal? I’ll be home at the weekend and he knows that. I told him that this morning.” Your voice broke as the stress became too much and the tears started to fall. You didn’t want to be crying again but you couldn’t stop the release.
“Y/N, it’s ok. Don’t get upset. Is there no way you can come home on Wednesday?”
“I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave my Dad.”
“I thought he was doing alright now? That’s what Taron said anyway.”
“Taron doesn’t know.” You admitted. “Dad starts chemo on our anniversary next week and I won’t be here to support him, so I need to be with him now, I want to make the most of this time...”
“Shit.” Gemma paused and the silence said it all. It sounded as bad out loud as you thought it would when you put the sentence together in your mind. “Taron doesn’t know?”
“No. I can’t tell him.”
“You’ve got to, Y/N.”
“I can’t. I can’t have him constantly asking if I’m alright, or looking sympathetically at me all day, or just fussing for that reason. I want our anniversary to be about us and nothing else. I think I’m going to need the distraction too.”
“Shit.” Gemma repeated. “This is… such a fucking mess.”
“Yeah.” You sighed defeatedly.
“Okay. I’m going to get in trouble for this, because I promised Taron I wouldn’t say anything, but there’s a bloody good reason why he needs you home on Wednesday, and now you’ve said how much you’re going to need distracting I can’t let you miss this.”
“He’s told you?”
“Only because he had to. It’s all meant to be a complete surprise so please don’t let on that you know about it?” She pleaded.
“I won’t. I promise!”
“He’s taking you away for a couple of days next week, going for the full on pack your bags in the middle of the night, will probably blindfold you or something… anyway, he phoned your work this morning to try and get you time off but they said no because you’ve got this week off. So unless you come back and work on Thursday and Friday you won’t be going anywhere.”
“What the actual fuck?! Do you know where he’s taking me?”
“Nowhere at the minute because you’ll be at work! I genuinely don’t know though; I couldn’t get it out of him. He’s been planning it for weeks apparently which is why he’s so stressed because if you don’t come back you can’t go, and now he’s called your work to ask it’s not even like you can phone in sick!”
“Oh my god, what the hell do I do?” You ran your fingers through the top of your hair as the dilemma hit you. The idea of getting away for a bit with Taron sounded heavenly. You could finally relax and sort everything out with him. Properly make up for all the arguments and time spent apart and have the most amazing anniversary together. But was that ridiculously selfish? You could take a long weekend with Taron next month and have a belated anniversary, tie it in with his birthday and it would be just as good. Time was on your side when it came to Taron. It was potentially the complete opposite with your Dad and if you left early for this and something bad happened would you be able to forgive yourself? Surely you had to take the valuable time that was on offer with him right now.
“Talk to your Dad about it, see what he says.” Was Gemma’s advice, but you knew exactly what he’d say.
“He’d tell me to go home and enjoy myself.”
“Well there you go.”
“It’s not fair on him to do that. What if-”
“You can’t live your life on ‘what if’s’, you can’t put everything on hold just in case.” Gemma interrupted you.
“But I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”
“Well is it likely? Do things really look that bad right now?”
“No, I guess not.” You replied softly.
“Then it’ll all be fine. You’ll be more use to your Dad when you come back relaxed, happy and totally loved up with Taron again, won’t you?”
“That’s true.”
“Maybe even engaged?”
“Gemma, what!?” You almost dropped your phone. “Tell me exactly what you know.”
“I’m joking, I don’t know a thing I swear! But it did cross my mind when Taron was so stressed over the trip not happening at all. He’s clearly got more than just the destination planned, put it that way!”
“Don’t! I can’t go into this thinking things like that. We’re not ready for that, he wouldn’t, would he?”
“Sorry, no, you’re right. Keep it realistic, he’s a man and he couldn’t possibly be able to do anything that perfect.”
“Better!” You laughed. “I’m so glad you’ve told me what’s going on though, you’ve been a total life saver.”
“You can thank me by making me Maid of Honour.”
“Fuck off!”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now go and tell Taron the good news so he can stop stressing.” Gemma laughed before saying goodbye and leaving you to process everything. Taron’s stress, secrecy, organisation and conversations in the pub suddenly made total sense and you felt terrible for giving him such a hard time about it all. The least you owed him in return was to cut your week at home short so all his hard work wouldn’t go to waste. There was just one thing left to do, and that involved telling your parents that you were leaving early. You knew your Dad would be fine with it, he’d had enough fuss and attention and would much rather you spent your days with Taron, but your Mum would be the exact opposite.
Your prediction came true when she returned from her book club. She filled you in on the latest gossip, asked how your Dad had been and then looked at you expectantly. It was like she had a sixth sense for knowing when you’d been keeping secrets from her, but you’d somehow kept the bickering and arguments with Taron well hidden. She’d dine out for weeks telling you that your relationship was never going to last if she knew that the honeymoon period had ended already. When you told her you were leaving on Wednesday to go home she rolled her eyes and then laughed.
“I knew it!” She added for good measure. “We’ve lost you for good to him.”
It didn’t make an ounce of difference when you explained the situation, how you didn’t know about it, that it was a complete surprise and out of your control, and most importantly because of your anniversary. It hurt that she didn’t appear to want you to be happy. You received a sympathetic smile from your Dad and you knew he’d talk to you about it more the next day when your Mum was back at work, but her reaction was just as bad as you’d expected. You couldn’t face being in the same room as her for any longer so you sulked into bed and drafted out a text to send to Taron. There was half of you that wanted to surprise him back and turn up unannounced, but it would be cruel to prolong his stress. Plus he needed to know now before he cancelled anything!
So I had a little chat with Gems this evening… she helped me put a few things into perspective. As you quite rightly predicted I’ve been total nightmare and overreacted at stupid things so I’m sorry for stressing you out and for being difficult to live with, or without these last few days! I love you and miss you like mad… and I’ll be home on Wednesday evening. Xxxxxxx
The reply from Taron appeared a few minutes later.
Oh. My. Days. You’re such a fucking nightmare at times it’s unbelievable, but thank fuck for that! I’m going to make this so worthwhile you have no idea! Xxxxx
Taglist: @egerton-sweetie @amanda-tallmadge @lizziespidiepridie @leanimal90 @anantheminmyheart22 @aynsleywalker @bohemianrhapsody86 @butterfliesslugswormsandothershi @manners-maketh-taron @livingincompletesilence@marvelmakeuplover @ohsosmutty@misspygmypie @manners-maketh-a-kingsman@courtmr @baileythepenguin@thomaslefteyebrow @witchymarvelspacecase @samanthasmileys@nellietara @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @wheresmylightinthedark@kurtis-conner@hoe4dior @toky-9101 @mayaslifeinabox@fluentlyspeakingtreason @yallyallblanchett @whiskeylipsx@emmaelizabeth2014 @primaba11erina @fightuntilyoucan @carlita2025 @rocknrollmadden@walking-stressed-mess @dogmom2014 @aberystwythboy
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Do You Want To Build A Snow-Mick?
Belated Secret Santa for @dragongoddess13. I’m so damn sorry that I’m late for this, but I hope you enjoy it!
AO3
In the cold night hours, two motorcycles sped down the streets of Washington D.C. Few cars were out, likely returning from somewhere like they had. However, none of the cars or walkers would have thought the two bikers were well-known heroes. Hell, they didn’t even know that they hadn’t just saved the world, but time as well on several occasions. All they saw were two bikers cruising along and passing each other intermittently.
The duo made its way out of the city into the suburbs, noticing that the roads had been pre-treated. In the week that they had been in town, the forecast had called for snow on two different days. None had appeared on said days. That worked out in their favor with the bikes. Not that either of them would have minded a little bit of snow to make things feel more in season.
When they pulled to a stop on the concrete pad in front of one of the houses, Sara Lance took her helmet off and grinned at her companion. “Told you we’d get home quick.”
“There’s barely any traffic tonight,” Leonard Snart replied once his own helmet was removed. “If there was, my way would have been faster.”
“One of these days, we’ll have to see whose route home is better.”
“I know there’s at least a thirty second advantage.”
“Pfft, thirty seconds? Come on, Len.”
Leonard pulled out the keys from his pocket as they walked up to the door. “Still faster. But I’m not shying away from that challenge. We’ll just have to wait until we’re out of winter.”
Sara tilted her head. “It’s cold, but we haven’t had any snow yet since we landed for the holidays. I’m sure it’ll be fine within the next week.”
“Maybe so, but Raymond told me that there’s supposed to a snowstorm coming in a few hours. Showed me his weather apps and everything.”
“Was that where you were when Mick and Gary were cleaning me out with the dreidel?”
The door finally unlocked and both stepped inside, happy to shed their coats and shut the door. Leonard flicked on a light to reveal his smile. “I thought you were kidding about losing in dreidel?”
Sara dumped her helmet on the shelf. “No. That’s why I don’t have any chocolate to bring home. But Mick said you’d lose if you were there too.”
“Did he now?” Leonard raised an eyebrow. “If Lisa was there, she’d wipe the floor with him. I was the one who taught her to play, but she got better than I ever was. It’s been a long time since I was with other people for Hanukkah though. It was nice.”
“Good,” Sara reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m gonna head to bed. You coming?”
“Yeah, give me a moment.”
She went up the stairs as Leonard pulled out his phone. He might not have had Ray’s fancy weather apps, but the website he tended to look at for weather was also reporting snow for the early morning hours and most of tomorrow. Not to mention that the temperature would be taking a dive as well. He might have been Captain Cold, but he was also a regular human who had been a little more prone to cold since his resurrection a few years ago.
On his way up the stairs, he made sure to stop by the closet and pull out an extra blanket before coming to bed.
“You sure we’ll need that?” Sara asked.
He shrugged. “We can get rid of it if it’s too hot.”
“Fair enough. Night, Len.”
“Night, Sara.”
~~~
Sara knew that when she’d fallen asleep, she hadn’t been too close to Leonard. When she awoke, she was pressed up right beside him. This wasn’t something any of them minded. They’d been together for about a year now. At least he didn’t snore.
What she did notice when she woke up was that it was cold. Sure, they kept the thermostat down at night, but it was never this chilly. As her eyes slowly opened, the captain of the Waverider exhaled and a cloud of white formed in front of her briefly. Awareness of how cold it was in the bedroom seeped into her body more and more. Sara pulled the sheets and blankets closer to herself to warm up more. At least Leonard had gotten an extra blanket on them last night.
Rolling away from Leonard, Sara could see the window and the view of the outside weather. Her eyebrows lifted at the sight of it. Careful not to wake up Leonard, she crawled out of bed to get a better look. She gave a small gasp at the chill of the floor when she tiptoed to the edge of the room. Outside, snow was piling up in the yard and still falling fast.
“Wow,” she murmured.
“Guess Raymond was right about the snow.”
Sara turned around to see Leonard watching her from the bed. “Did you just wake up or have you been pretending to be asleep?”
“I only woke up a few minutes ago, but you’re right,” Leonard agreed while Sara crawled back under the covers. “I don’t know how long it’s been coming down for, but it doesn’t show any signs of letting up. Makes me glad we went shopping yesterday.”
“Well, we had to since Ray had us all bring over something for Hanukkah,” Sara scooted closer to him. “Saves us a trip now at least. We can just have a snow day here instead.”
“Another brilliant idea from the captain. I like it.”
Sara grinned. “I’m not one to mess with when it comes to snow.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You do remember I go by Captain Cold, right?”
The grin turned more devilish. “Then this will get fun.”
~~~
Within a few hours, the couple finally made their way out into the winter wonderland. Snow was still tumbling down from the sky. According to the forecast, this was supposed to be the whole day for Washington. Just in time for Christmas and Sara’s birthday.
“The last time it snowed this much in Central City, I think Lisa was still in middle school,” Leonard smiled as he thought back to that day.
“How’d that go?” Sara asked.
Leonard laughed as he remembered it. “She wanted to build the biggest snowman ever. Mick came over and helped us out. We got it to about seven feet before a snowball fight broke out with some neighborhood kids.”
“Did you win?”
“Pretty sure we did,” he shrugged. “You ever have snow days up in Star City?”
“They came around from time to time,” Sara told him. “Laurel and I always had fun because we could play all day instead of going to school. Sometimes we spent them at the station, other times it was just us at home. We usually walked over to this hill and went sledding with other kids from the neighborhood before the hill got bulldozed for new houses. But we always tried to make this ramp out of snow and see if we could catch some air.”
Leonard could easily see her doing that as a child. “We never went sledding a lot. It didn’t snow a lot, so there was no need to get a sled. When we did, I just repurposed an old trash can lid.”
“Clever,” Sara leaned down and gathered a handful of snow. Thankfully, it was wet and stuck together. There was nothing worse for a snow day than dry snow. “So... a snowman that was seven feet tall?”
“More or less by my estimate.”
“Want to try and beat that record today?”
~~~
The snow kept on falling as the time travelers worked together to roll massive blocks of snow. As they rolled the snow up from the grass, it began to accumulate on the ground once again. It took a little longer than either of them thought. Neither of them had made a snowman for a while, so they forgot how heavy all that snow could be. In the end though, they did succeed in making the planned upon snowman.
“Looks pretty good to me,” Leonard grinned as they lifted the head up to sit on the rest of the body. “And definitely bigger than seven feet.”
Sara was frowning though. “It’s still missing something.”
She bolted towards the house and up the steps. Leonard tilted his head and waited for her return. Within a minute, the door swung open and she came barreling down the steps with an armful of items. Once Leonard saw the carrot, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Even if they weren’t the most traditional of people, they needed a traditional snowman today.
“It needs to be a proper snowman,” Sara grinned as she showed him what she’d brought outside. “I grabbed the stuff that we weren’t using. Good thing we made stew the other day and put carrots in it.”
“Ah, but you’re missing some things too,” Leonard countered. “We ought to give him at least one arm. Maybe a broom for Frosty too.”
“Okay, so I don’t have everything. Want to get those things while I start decorating?”
They worked a little longer on their snowman to make it look presentable. Leonard managed to find a pair of sturdy twigs sticking from the snow and unearthed them from the snow. Both were stuck into the snowman before he went to the garage. A rake ended up taking the place of a broom leaning up against the snowman. Some small stones pulled from the snow near the front of the house worked as buttons running down the snowman’s front.
In the meantime, Sara had climbed up on the bottom of the snowman to decorate his face. When Leonard looked up at her work, he had to laugh a little bit. The top of the snowman’s head was smoothed over and there were thick raisin eyebrows above two round carrot eyes (of course she’d had a knife up there). It even seemed like the snowman was scowling a little.
“Kinda reminds me of Mick when he’s grumpy,” he told her.
Sara simply raised her eyebrows, but a smile was twitching at her lips.
“Sara, you didn’t.”
“Inspiration struck,” explained Sara. “How could I ignore the call?”
He snorted. The two of them were used to being so used to being serious with the rest of the Legends. Whenever they had time off, there was no need for that. They could let loose a little more like they had in the old days when they were just trying to stop Vandal Savage.
“We’ll have to send him a picture later,” Leonard smirked. “I didn’t bring my phone out here and the snow’s starting to pick up again.”
“Sounds good to me. A day like this calls for something warm.”
“I can always do cocoa.”
“We don’t have any whipped cream.”
Leonard shook his head. “That’s not funny.”
Now Sara laughed. “Just a little. I know you and your mini marshmallows. Now let’s go leave our snow-Mick out here and get warm.”
“Snow-Mick?”
Sara winked as they walked back inside and shut the door, embracing the warmth of the house. “I thought you’d like the pun.”
“I never said I didn’t,” he shook the snow off his cap. “Mick’s ego definitely will. Isn’t this the second monument that bears a resemblance to him?”
His partner sighed. “I’d forgotten about that. Maybe we should take a trip to see it soon? After all, we do have time to spare.”
“That we do,” Leonard agreed. “But right now, I’m happy spending that time with just you and not have to worry about any of the other barging in.”
“Or time alarms going off,” Sara added, kicking her boots off and standing up. “Aren’t I lucky to have you all to myself?”
Leonard shrugged off his coat. “Actually, I consider myself to be the lucky one.”
“How about this?” Sara kissed him. “We’re both lucky.”
Leonard smiled down at her. “Now that I can agree with.”
They stayed that way for a moment before Leonard cleared his throat. “So, hot cocoa?’
“Hot cocoa,” Sara agreed. “With mini marshmallows.”
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Another Soulmate (Raja x Raven) - Chardonnay
A/N: Got a request from one of my lovely followers for a more angsty fic involving old feelings being looked back on. This isn’t set in present day (in order to be respectful to all current partners of the queens) so I’ve set it a little while back, maybe 5 or 6 years ago. Its definitely much sadder than anything else that I have written, but I really enjoyed trying something a little bit different. Enjoy! (disclaimer: quote at the beginning is not mine)
“It’s painful, loving someone from afar. Watching them – from the outside. The once familiar elements of their life reduced to nothing more than occasional mentions in conversations and faces changing in photographs.
They exist to you now as nothing more than living proof that something can still hurt you…with no contact at all.”
Another warm July night in West Hollywood and the latest Monday night showgirls performance at Micky’s had just come to a close. The air was sticky and humid in the club, but that never stopped the gays from partying until the early hours of the morning. The atmosphere was extra lively tonight. The entire line-up of girls were some of WeHo’s best local queens, and the show was exactly what you would expect of a classic California gig. Raven had been out of town for the last couple of weeks, but tonight she was back in all her hosting glory along with her sisters Morgan and Mayhem. Sonique, Mariah and Raja rounded out the rest of the line-up and between the 6 of them, the club was already a crazy party. The drinks were flowing and the crowd was hyped, including the queens themselves now all out of drag and ready to get completely fucked up. A few other local girls had shown up to watch and Sutan invited everyone back to his apartment later for more drinks as a very belated birthday celebration (it was over a month late but this was the first time everyone was together and back in town to celebrate).
The queens downed shots, drinking and dancing the night away. Sutan was so glad to finally be with some of his closest friends again, with the show becoming more and more popular the girls were constantly on different schedules, touring around America and even occasionally travelling to places like Europe and Brazil for international shows. He was living his dream as a famous drag superstar, supermodel of the world, but sometimes he really longed for the familiarity of his friends and his hometown where he could really let loose and be surrounded by people he cared about. He was having a blast tonight, drinking and laughing with people he hadn’t seen in months. Sharon and Manila had come by out of drag to join the party and he always had a great time with Morgan and Mariah as well. However he was most excited to see Raven again, they had been on opposite schedules for the last little while and for some reason he hadn’t seen David out partying as much as he used to, probably something to do with this new guy he’d been seeing for however long. David was one of those people who always liked to have someone in his life, but as with many drag queen relationships, it never lasted much longer than a few months with all the crazy travelling. This time seemed different though. Now he was staying in more, not getting super wasted like they used to, and he hardly ever came to LA for anything other than work. Sutan missed his friend so much, and he couldn’t deny that there was a tinge of jealousy mixed into his emotions as he thought about all of the fun times they used to have together when they were both single and free. Its partially why he waited so long to have this little get together, he wanted to be sure David was back in California so they could party together again like they did only a year ago.
Sutan had been casually looking for him all night, not wanting to seem to obvious and desperate but also hoping that he could manage to find David and get him drunk enough that he’d actually live a little and have fun again. Despite Sutan’s efforts, there had been no sign of him all night. He was beginning to think David was avoiding him on purpose, at his own extremely-belated birthday party. The nerve! After almost an hour and a half of discreet searching, Sutan finally found him standing at the bar with Mariah, the two of them chatting and laughing over a drink. Sutan excused himself from his current conversation and made a beeline for them before he lost David in the crowd again. Mariah saw him first, smiling and giving him a wave as he approached. David turned around to see who was behind him, and couldn’t stop the warm, enthusiastic grin that spread across his face at the sight of his friend. He felt a little bad that he had been consciously avoiding Sutan tonight, but they hadn’t really seen each other much since David had started seeing his current boyfriend and he knew how Sutan could be sometimes when they were drinking together: overtly touchy and even more openly sexual than usual. Combined with his own lack of self-control and poor judgement when he’d had too much liquor, it was a recipe for disaster and David wanted to avoid any possible incidents. But despite all his worries, he’d also missed Sutan terribly over the last 6 months. He always had this calming yet slightly intimidating effect on David that was both comforting and daunting at the same time.
“Hey guys!” Sutan smiled over his drink as he approached. “Rave, I haven’t seen you all night. I’ve been looking for you, where have you been? And please don’t tell me you’ve been here the whole time sipping this same drink…”
“No, for your information I’ve had a couple of drinks actually.”
Sutan rolled his eyes. “Oh my god you can’t be serious. Everyone is out there taking shots and getting shitfaced and you’re just standing around talking. Why are you being boring?”
“I’m not being boring!”
“Yes you are. Mariah, isn’t he being boring here by himself?”
Mariah gave an apologetic look. “You’re being kinda boring girl.”
“See!” Sutan argued as David looked insulted. “What happened to fun Raven that used to get hammered with me every weekend? I miss that Raven.”
“What do you mean? I still like to party and have fun!”
“Does this have to do with that guy you’re seeing?” Sutan crossed his arms. “I don’t like that he’s making you all blah and boring.”
“No, it’s not that. I like to drink and get crazy sometimes, I just don’t fuck every guy at the bar that I see.”
“Ugh, see boring.” Sutan scoffed. “No one is saying you have to sex with anybody Rave, even if it is my birthday…” he gave David an expectant and flirty look.
“You know it’s not actually your birthday right?”
“Whatever, it’s still my party and I say you’re not allowed to be a drag.” He reached for David’s hand. “Come get drunk with me!”
“Raj, I really don’t think-“
“David!”
Sutan’s grip tightened slightly as he gave David a look that said he was not interested in hearing any more of this conversation, generally only using his boy-name in very serious situations. The look in his eyes sent a cold shock up David’s spine, reminding him of past encounters that often began with pain but ended in immeasurable pleasure. It was the exact feeling he was hoping to avoid tonight, but he knew there was no arguing with Sutan when he really wanted something.
“Okay fine.” David gave him a slightly defeated smile. “But please anything but-“
“Three shots of whisky please!” Sutan shouted at the bartender. David let out an exasperated sigh, exhausted by his failed attempt to evade Sutan’s plan, but still he couldn’t help but smile at Sutan’s little shrug and the smug satisfaction on his face at getting his way once again.
…………………………………………………………………………………….
The remainder of their night at the bar was spent the same way, full of shots and poppers and weed and all of Sutan’s favorite things, everything getting consistently blurrier as the evening progressed. He stubbornly tried not to admit it, but David was actually having a really good time. He hadn’t let loose like this in a long while, and even though he had noticed Sutan being a bit overly touchy while they were dancing, for the most part they had both been able to behave themselves around one another. By 1am the crowd of queens and some of Sutan’s other friends were getting ready to move on to their next location, hoping to keep the party alive into the early hours of the morning. As everyone was busy scrambling to make travel arrangements, figuring out who was riding in which cab or if it was worth it to just walk the moderate distance, Sutan spotted the back of David’s head drunkenly floating amongst the mass of people still dancing. He ran over and instinctively grabbed onto David’s hand to turn him around.
“Hey, you coming back to my apartment?”
David stopped and tilted his head in confusion, feeling his stomach drop at Sutan’s casual invitation.
“With everyone else! We’re all heading back there to party some more. You’re coming right?”
David let out a breath of relief and felt the nerves dissipate. “I don’t know Su, I’m kinda tired maybe I should just-“
Sutan was already shaking his head. “No, you’re coming. Let’s go, we can ride in the cab together.”
He wasn’t letting David out of his sight. Sutan needed to ensure he got back to his apartment and didn’t predictably sneak home early. He took David’s hand so they didn’t lose one another while they weaved through the crowd towards the front entrance, David following behind and drunkenly smiling as they walked. Sutan was so insistence that he be in attendance for the entirety of this get-together. He was always thinking of David, ensuring that his inner 70-year-old woman didn’t completely take over his life. He was a good friend and David was happy that he could still manage to keep Sutan in his life despite their past together. He worried at first that things might be too awkward between them or that the sexual tension would inevitably become too much too handle, but tonight was proving that their friendship was stronger than all of that. Sutan was making an effort to ensure David was still an important part of his life, and he needed to reciprocate and make certain their friendship would never fade. Sutan seemed determined to show David a fun time tonight, so he willingly went along to Sutan’s apartment to make him happy. It was his birthday party after all.
They rode back to Sutan’s place in a cab with two of his other friends that David didn’t really know. Everyone was drunkenly slurring and shouting and messing with the poor driver’s radio trying to find a song to keep them in the partying mood. David was uncharacteristically quiet for most of the ride, laughing occasionally but mostly thinking about all the different cab rides he’d taken back to Raja’s apartment before. Most of them were filled with the excitement and anticipation of intimacy, but this time of course was much different. David was trying to remember what it felt like to just be Sutan’s friend, before they were anything more than that. It seemed like an eternity ago rather than just a few years, but so much had happened between them in such a short time. Sutan’s hand softly squeezing his knee startled David back down to earth, the slight contact combined with his previous thoughts made his nervous butterflies start up again, the alcohol heightening every small touch.
“Are you okay?”
David looked at him and tried to remain casual, not wanting to expose any of the uneasy thoughts that were currently racing through his inebriated brain.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Okay” Sutan gave him a soft smile, his hand still notably touching David’s leg “I’m happy you came tonight Rave.”
“Well I didn’t exactly have much of a choice, did I?” David teased back, clearly poking fun at his previous persistence.
“I mean you didn’t have to come. It’s not like I dragged you here.”
David gave him a look that you’d give a small child who just told the most outrageous story “Bitch you literally took my hand and pulled me all the way out of Micky’s!”
“Ugh shut up you’re so overdramatic” Sutan rolled his eyes and smiled “You followed more than willingly”
David just smiled back in response, knowing Sutan was right but wanting to admit it out loud.
“I just really wanted you to be here tonight cause it’s been a long time since we’ve hung out. I missed you so much while I was gone and travelling” Sutan slipped his arm to intertwine with David’s, leaning on his head and continuing quietly “I always think about you when I’m away for a long time, we have so much fun together.”
David stayed still but closed his eyes, appreciating the contact between them after being apart for 6 months but also trying not to enjoy it too much. “You are really drunk.”
Sutan laughed softly and closed his eyes too, silently agreeing before letting David go and joining in to the other loud, drunken conversations happening.
…………………………………………………………………………………………..
Sutan’s apartment was packed with people, or at least it felt packed with the small amount of floor space he had. His entire kitchen and living room area was filled with queens and porn stars and practically half of west Hollywood enjoying more alcohol and other illegal substances being discretely used in the bathroom. There were people crowded in the living area, pushing back furniture to create space for a makeshift dancefloor, bopping and vogueing and throwing themselves about like drunk fools. David stood in the kitchen where he and a whole group of queens were gathered around the small island. He stood between Morgan and Manila, sipping his drink and watching Sharon explain this drinking game to Sutan who was trying very hard to concentrate despite already being extremely intoxicated. David watched Sutan’s eyes trying to follow along with the cards in Sharon’s hands while simultaneously listening to the words being said. He swore he could actually see the wheels in Sutan’s brain turning as he tried to understand, but David knew for a fact that as soon as Sharon would finish explaining, absolutely nothing will have sunken in to Sutan’s head. Just as David had suspected, the 2 queens played a few trial rounds of the game and Sutan was terrible, putting cards in the wrong place and drinking when he wasn’t supposed to. David snickered behind his drink at Sutan’s very obviously drunken ineptitude.
“This is too fuckin complicated, lets just play something else.” Sutan complained with a slight slur, throwing up his hands in frustration. He hated not getting things and he was far too drunk to understand these rules.
“Who isn’t drunk enough yet?” he looked around the small group of queens in the kitchen. “Rave! Come ride the bus and finish your drink!”
David gave an exasperated look, he was already buzzed and was not planning on taking it any further tonight, but he should’ve known as soon as Sutan insisted David come back to the apartment, he had a plan to get David completely shitfaced.
“Make every 5th one a shot!” Morgan shouted from beside him. David gave him a warning look.
“Yes!” Raja wore a huge grin “Let’s do it, Raven get over here.”
David laughed as he shook his head and reluctantly walked around the island, Sharon and Morgan clapping and hollering in excitement. He looked at Sutan right in the eyes. “You are not feeding me that many shots.”
“Oh you bet your ass I am. You want whisky or tequila?”
David played along through the entire deck of cards, getting progressively more drunk as the game progressed. He was always so terrible at this game for some reason, even with a 50% chance of guessing whether the next card was red or black, David always somehow managed to get it wrong. He had taken 6 shots of whisky by the end of it all, Sutan watching with a gleeful smile on his face each time, and he could already feel the room spinning as he finished and stumbled away from the kitchen island.
David spent the better part of the next hour mingling with queens and meeting new people. He always felt so much more relaxed and comfortable under the influence of alcohol and weed. Despite his somewhat bitchy demeanor in drag, David was surprisingly a very shy person and often found long periods of social interaction exhausting. However when he was out and partying and the liquor was flowing through his bloodstream, everything just seemed easier. Tonight David felt like he could do anything. He was happy and drunk and being uncharacteristically social, moving from group to group with his friends by his side, introducing himself to strangers and chatting with queens she hardly ever got to see anymore. While he was floating around the apartment David also couldn’t help but notice Sutan hanging very close by wherever he went, that familiar feeling of his eyes subconsciously watching every move. Eventually David found his way into the living room, drunkenly singing and dancing with Morgan and Mariah to an old Madonna song. About halfway through he suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around his centre and a cheek pressing to his from behind.
“Hey.” He heard Sutan’s voice low by his ear. “You having a good time tonight?”
David smiled and closed his eyes, instinctively leaning into Sutan’s face in a drunken bliss. “I am actually, I’m happy you made me come tonight.”
“Well I mean I haven’t yet, but if you wanted me to I could…”
“Ugh gross.” David laughed and tried to squirm away from Sutan’s grasp.
“I’m kidding! Oh my god I’m kidding.” Sutan quickly raised his hands in mock innocence, releasing David from his hug.
David turned around to face Sutan, still smiling and shaking his head. “You are so disgusting.”
Sutan just giggled and shrugged his shoulders in that adorably impish way he sometimes acted when he was intoxicated, but still the two of them continued to dance, holding hands and twirling each other around in a silly, friendly way. Morgan and Mariah joined back in and the four of them pranced and performed around the living room to the next few songs as if they were back performing at Micky’s, eventually making their way outside together for a cigarette.
As the night continued into the soft hours of the morning, the party was winding down and people began making plans to either find their way home or find the next live spot for those who never wanted the party to end. Sutan didn’t have much space for people to stay, so other than the partygoers who were already drunkenly passed out on various pieces of furniture, most people made arrangements to share cabs and stay at friend’s houses. Morgan and Raven being here all the way from Riverside didn’t have much choice other than to stay there at the apartment, so they started to help clean up as the crowd became more and more scarce. Both queens were still drunk themselves trying to pick up empty cups and cans and throw them into a big garbage bag, occasionally dropping and spilling more liquid in their clumsy, inebriated state. At one-point Morgan decided to turn it into a game and tried to throw garbage across the kitchen and see if he could make it into the bag David was holding. After Sutan saw the last few people off he walked back into the apartment and stood confused at the scene in front of him, Morgan and Raven laughing and throwing empty beer cans at each other.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?”
Both queens froze and turned towards Sutan, caught in the act. They stared at him for a second before dissolving into a fit of hysterical laughter.
“We’re cleaning up!” David said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
“Yeah, stop being so unappreciative.”
“Unappreciative? The kitchen looks worse now than it did before!” Morgan gave David a mocking face that made him laugh before Sutan continued. “Just leave it alone, I’ll deal with it in the morning. Let’s just go to bed.”
“Sweet. I call the couch.” Morgan dropped what he was holding onto and dashed into the living room, claiming the last spot not taken up by someone too drunk to move.
David looked around the rest of the apartment. “Well fuck, where am I supposed to sleep then?”
Sutan made his way towards him, taking the trash bag and throwing a few discarded cans in. “Just come sleep with me, my bed’s big enough.”
David hesitated for a moment before joining in and picking up garbage from the floor, uneasy at Sutan’s suggestion. He may have been drunk but he still had at least a basic level of self-awareness. “Uh, I don’t know if that’s really a good idea Su…”
“Oh relax, I’m not gonna try anything. We’re just sleeping.”
“Yeah, right” they heard Morgan shout from the next room.
“Shut up whore!” Sutan shouted back. David laughed, always amused by their constant bickering. “Seriously though,” Sutan looked back at him and continued softly “it’s fine. Plus there is literally nowhere else to sleep right now. I’ll take the floor if you really want me to.”
“No, it’s okay.” David was too wasted and tired to argue and ended up just following Sutan into his bedroom. Similar to the cab ride home, he felt an initial sense of confusion and uneasiness at the memories he had of stumbling into Sutan’s bedroom, discarding clothes and falling into his plush comforter on many other drunken nights that were so different to where they were now. All of these thoughts combined with the spinning in his head forced David to sit delicately on the edge of the bed.
“Are you okay?” Sutan had come back from the bathroom and saw David perched on his bed, staring at the wall in front of him.
“Hm?” David forced himself to look up at Sutan. “Yeah I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You look like you’re gonna be sick. You better not puke in my bed bitch.”
“I won’t! I’m fine, I promise.”
Sutan looked skeptical. “Okay…I’m gonna smoke a blunt, you want some? You look like you really need to chill out.”
David rolled his eyes but of course agreed, never turning down a smoke. Sutan gave him a pair of boxers to change into while he rolled a quick joint, and when David got back from the bathroom Sutan was already laying on the far side of the bed with the blunt in his mouth, getting ready to light it. He motioned for David to come over and lay beside him, which he tentatively did, feeling a bit more relaxed now that he didn’t feel that sexual tension in the air. David crawled up into the bed opposite Sutan, leaning on one elbow to face him and waiting patiently for his turn. Sutan always had good shit to smoke, and he wasn’t wrong that David could use something to calm his racing mind right now.
As they passed the blunt between them, taking a couple puffs each time, of course Sutan couldn’t help himself from gossiping about all the things that had gone on that night. It was one of the craziest they’d seen in recent memory with so many people in one spot together, and of course when you have that many drag queens in a room there is bound to be drama. David filled Sutan in on everything he’d missed while playing host, both of them laying down and casually chatting and giggling together until they’d finished their joint. By now David was feeling totally relaxed, the mix of weed and alcohol had released his inhibitions completely and he felt much better as he snuggled deep under the covers. Even still, he couldn’t ignore the discernable wave of butterflies in his stomach when Sutan leaned over him to turn off his bedside lamp. Though both men knew there were no sexual intensions in the bed that night, David could still never deny his own personal attraction towards Sutan, and he finally realized that this feeling would probably never go away for either of them. They would just have to learn how best to deal with it. David usually tried to simply ignore his feelings and wait for the moment to pass, not wanting anything between them to become even more evident and palpable. Sutan however clearly preferred to lean into it and instead would make very obvious sexual jokes, almost intentionally trying to make David even more uncomfortable. Luckily this time he let the moment pass and leaned back down to bury himself under the blanket as well.
For a few minutes there was only silence, both not used to having this strange amount of distance between them when sharing a bed, neither knowing whether to simply pretend to sleep until it actually happened or say something. After a while David heard Sutan’s voice whispering in the dark.
“Rave. Hey Rave are you still awake?”
“Yeah” he whispered back.
“Me too. I can’t sleep.”
“I know, every time I close my eyes the room starts to spin.”
“Yeah…” Sutan paused “and I keep thinking about stuff.”
“What kinda stuff?”
“I don’t know, all kinds of stuff. I’m really fucking drunk, my minds going crazy.”
David laughed to himself, drunk Sutan was always fun, especially when he was drunk too.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Actually, y’know what I was thinking about?”
“What?”
“That you’ve never introduced me to your boyfriend who you’ve apparently been seeing for almost 6 months!” Sutan accused “Why have I never met him?”
“Uh, I don’t know because you weren’t really home much for the last little while, and I didn’t really think you’d want to meet him that badly?”
“What? Why wouldn’t I?
“I don’t know. Why do you want to?”
“Because we’re friends and that’s what friends do. You introduce them to your boyfriends so that they can make sure that they aren’t…..bad.”
“Why would I be dating someone that’s a bad person?”
“I don’t know! But sometimes people make mistakes about who they date, believe me I know. But their friends are the ones that have to look out for them.”
“Okay. You can meet him I guess…” David wasn’t sure exactly where this conversation was going. He could tell that Sutan was really wasted and just rambling, but this was relatively new territory for them, usually when they were both drunk and alone there wasn’t much talking going on. After a few more moments of silence and thoughts racing through his brain, Sutan continued.
“I shouldn’t have gone on that last BOTS tour.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you have a good time?”
“Oh no, yeah I had a great time!” Sutan paused, thinking of the memories. “But I dunno, I kinda also really missed you here.”
“Really?”
“Well, yeah. I thought about you a lot. I wish I thought about you more actually.”
“What? What are talking about?” David was having a difficult time following Sutan’s drunken babbling, too fucked up himself to let the words sink in properly.
“I was stupid leaving for months to go on this tour” Sutan whispered “I was stupid because I just wanted to travel around and fuck random people all over the world, and meanwhile I left you here and now you’ve gone away from me.”
David was quiet for a moment, slowly trying to process what Sutan was saying. “What are you talking about? I’m right here.”
“Yeah but you’re all the way over there,” using the physical distance between them to explain, “not like you used to be so close. I missed you and I missed my change because I wanted to sleep around.”
“So are you angry at yourself or angry at me here?”
“Myself obviously! Its not your fault you found a boyfriend.”
David couldn’t believe the words he was hearing come out of Sutan’s mouth right now, words he’d always dreamed about but never in a million years thought he’d hear out loud. Sutan had always seemed like the type to want to evade any and all romantic feelings, and now here he was confessing something David yearned for years before. But somehow it confused and hurt him now even more because David knew that Sutan was only expressing these feelings due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed.
“Raja, I thought you made it very clear that anything we had was casual? That you didn’t want to involve any serious feelings and we could fuck around however we liked.”
“Well obviously that’s what I wanted at first, and I tried to keep it like that but it got a bit fuzzy sometimes. C’mon you can’t tell me you never felt anything too.”
David felt his heartbeat quicken, the nerves returning with Sutan’s uncharacteristic confession. “Su, I don’t think this is a good time to talk about this. You’re really drunk-“
“Which is exactly why I’m talking about it!” he snapped back. “Am I just supposed to ignore this feeling forever and keep it to myself and never tell you?”
David stayed silent for a couple moments, tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to figure out what to say. Eventually he took a deep breath and reached his hand across the bed, taking Sutan’s under the blanket and speaking softly.
“You shouldn’t keep your feeling to yourself, and I’m happy you told me instead of letting it eat away at you. And to answer your question, yes I did feel things for you as well, but I honestly never had any idea that you felt the same way. You always seemed like such a free spirit and wanted to keep things casual so I pretended I did too. Eventually I just had to try to turn off those feelings so I wouldn’t get my heart broken.”
Sutan sat completely silent, listening to David tell him exactly what he already knew, that he was the only thing standing in his own way. But at the same time he also couldn’t deny his true nature.
“But I needed more than that Sutan.” David continued. “I can’t just be somebody’s semi-regular casual friends-with benefits forever. I want more.”
“I want more too!”
“Do you? Su come on, you fucking love hooking up with anyone you can in whatever city you are performing in. I know this because you’ve told me, and I can see the excitement in your eyes when you talk about it. You can try to pretend all you want, but I don’t think you’re ready to settle down yet” he paused, “and there’s nothing wrong with that! You and I are just 2 different kinds of people.”
Sutan laid beside David, running his thumb over their conjoined fingers as he heard David speak the truth that he had known already but couldn’t admit. Forever a Gemini at heart, he wanted 2 very different things that unfortunately could not co-exist with each other. On one hand Sutan knew that he was a free spirit and having that freedom in his life was so important, but on the other he was just now starting to realize his more serious feelings for David, sadly after it seemed to be too late.
“Tell you what,” David went on, trying to feign a happier tone. “I’ll introduce you to my boyfriend later this week. Then you can meet him yourself and see that he’s actually a really nice guy, I think you’ll really like him.”
“Yeah, okay.” Sutan couldn’t keep the heartache out of his voice.
“I’m really happy now Su, I want you to be happy too.”
“I know, I’m happy for you.”
“And y’know one day when the time is right and you’re ready, you’re gonna find someone who is absolutely perfect for you, and none of this will even be important. I know it will happen for you eventually.”
Sutan disappointingly nodded his head, only one thought echoing in his mind. “What if I already did meet someone perfect for me? And I let them slip away.”
David smiled sadly and gave Sutan’s hand a squeeze, bringing it up out of the covers to press a kiss to their conjoined fingers. Tears spilled out of his eyes that were lost in the darkness between them.
“Now turn off your brain and go to sleep, no more drunk heart to hearts tonight.” David tried to mask his own sadness with light-hearted teasing. “You probably won’t even remember this conversation tomorrow anyways.”
Sutan silently let go of David’s hand, knowing that there were no words left to say. In his intoxicated state he had shared every emotion that had been racing through his mind that night, and he knew that unfortunately he would remember all of this conversation tomorrow. That he would be reminded as soon as he wakes up to David all the way across the other side of the bed that he lost his only opportunity to be happy with someone who knew him better than almost anyone else. He would be forced to remember it tomorrow, for the next year and eventually for the rest of his life.
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The end of the romance
A relationship told through dialogue between her and him, from the crucial point in their story to the end
"There's something I need to tell you..." he started, then faltered.
"I thought there must be an ulterior motive behind this dinner," she smiled.
His eyes were trained on the place between his plate and his glass. As he struggled to find the words, her smile faded.
"Is it something to do with me?" she asked.
He dry-swallowed and knew she noticed by the urgency in her words: "Is it about us?"
For some things there's never the right time nor the right words. His shoulders dropped with resignation.
"I've got the visa," he said talking to the table. He couldn't find strength to lift his eyes. She was silent, but he could feel her gaze on his face. With enormous effort he met her eyes. Her face was serious, lips drawn into a thin line. Single wrinkle cut across her forehead and underneath it her green eyes darkened into stormy grey.
"When?" she asked.
"A few days ago."
"That means you have already decided," she concluded. "So? Are you leaving?"
He nodded, not trusting his voice. She inhaled sharply, reached for her glass and took a long sip, then she set it down and looked at it for a long while. Finally, she composed herself, lifted her chin and attempted a smile. It didn't reach her eyes.
"Congratulations, I guess," she said. "What is the plan?"
"I will quit the job tomorrow, need to sell the car and bunch of other things, pack slowly," it helped to think about practical things. "I get residency as soon as I land. Then I find a place to live and start looking for a job."
"When?" she asked.
"In a month," he said.
"And me?"
"I hope you will join me," he said. "Will you?"
"I need to finish my studies."
"I know. But, that's—what? Six months? A year tops, right?"
She shrugged. "It could be longer than that."
"It doesn't matter," he reassured her, "take as long as you need. We can video-chat every day! I'll show you every step I take, you'll be so familiar with the place even before you come over, you'll fit right in."
"I don't have a visa," she pointed out.
"That's easy. You can enrol in post-graduate studies. You'll get a year-long student visa. Then you can decide if you want to stay."
"And if I do?" she smiled weakly.
"You continue studies for another year," he said with a goofy smile, "or you can marry a guy who already has residency."
"Would you help me find a guy like that?" she winked.
They smiled quietly drinking each other's face. His hand found hers and their fingers intertwined automatically.
"Will you come?" he whispered.
"Will you wait?" she replied.
"Forever, if I must," he said.
They sat holding hands in silence, eyes locked.
- - - - - - - - - -
The door closed loudly, but instead of familiar patter of feet approaching there was silence. He leaned through the kitchen doorway and saw her sitting on the stool by the exit. She leaned against the wall with legs outstretched and eyes closed.
"Everything alright?" he asked, sensing that it wasn't—"How was the exam?"
Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked at him unfocused, as if she didn't quite know how he ended up there.
"I failed," she said closing her eyes again.
He sat on the floor next to her.
"It doesn't matter," he said, "you can take it again. I know you'll ace it, you always do."
"I always DID," she smiled bitterly, "until a week ago."
She looked at him: "I can't focus. Since you told me about leaving, my mind is with you every waking moment."
"I'm so sorry," he said. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Can you stay until I graduate?"
It was his turn to stare at her.
"I already quit my job," he said.
"They'd take you back," she said.
"Maybe. But, I already transferred all my savings overseas. And, I have a job interview a week after landing."
"You're so quick!" she smiled ruefully.
Her sarcasm didn't surprise him, but it hurt anyway.
"I hope to hit the ground running," he said. "The sooner I get settled, the easier it will be for you to join."
She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry. It's just... it's hard to think that in three weeks you won't be around. Why couldn't we do it together?"
"Do what together?" he asked—"Move? The same reason why you keep a separate apartment. Your parents would never let you go with me."
"What makes you think they'll let me join you?"
"That's why I'll register you for studies. You can tell them you got scholarship, and we'll have a year to break the news gently. It's easier from a distance. It'll also give them time to get used to the idea of us. We talked about it so many times..."
"Yes, I know," she sighed, "and it sounds so easy when you say it. But when I'm by myself, it seems impossible."
"Then I'll just keep repeating it. And when I'm there, I'll create a text template outlining this whole plan. I'll send it every morning when you wake up and every night before you go to bed."
She gave him tiniest of smiles.
"I'm scared," she said.
"Don't be scared, be excited," he whispered.
- - - - - - - - - -
"I wish I was going with you," she nuzzled his neck.
"Me too."
"I don't want to go back to empty apartment. At least you'll watch movies for the next 8 hours."
"I shouldn't have moved in with you," he stroke her hair. "I should have gone to my dad's for those three weeks."
"I'm glad you did, at least I had you to myself in the evenings. I wouldn't be able to stay with you at your dad's."
"But now everything will remind you of me."
"Maybe it'll motivate me to study harder and join you sooner."
"Or, maybe you'll go party somewhere rather than stay at home which so painfully reminds you of me and study."
She bumped his shoulder. "Don't joke! I'm serious."
"Why don't you meet up with friends and stay out for the evening?" he asked.
"That's just delaying what's coming. I'll go home and try to study. Call me when you land. Promise."
"It'll be middle of the night here."
"It doesn't matter, I don't think I'll be able to sleep anyway. Promise!"
"Okay, I'll call you as soon as I clear the customs," he said.
They kissed hungrily, desperately. After a long while, he gently pulled away.
"That was the last call for my flight," he said.
Her eyes swam in tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too."
She threw her arms around him, her lips searched for his one last time.
"Wait for me," she tore herself away.
"Forever!"
----------
"Hello?"
"God, I can't believe I finally got you on the phone! Congratulations, Ms. Graduate! You've been extremely hard to find lately!"
"Oh, that's you! Thank you!" she said.
"You don't sound too thrilled. Is this bad time?"
"No, of course not. I just walked in, my parents are here to celebrate."
"I see. Let's keep it short so you don't have to explain who it was," disappointment was thick in his voice.
"They're waiting in a cafe across the street. I have time," she chirruped.
"I didn't want to haunt you before the graduation, but I missed hearing your voice. It's been over a month..."
"I was at the university from dawn to dusk the last few weeks. I texted you, everything's fine, I told you."
"I know. I'm just saying I missed you. What's the plan now?"
"A big dinner with parents and friends!"
"I wish I was there..." he said.
"Yeah..."
They listened to each other breathing through the line.
"What are you going to do now?" he asked.
She ignored the unspoken, the real question she knew he was asking.
"I'll stay and relax for a couple of weeks when the parents leave. Then I'll go home for the Summer."
"Oh!"
"Listen, I have to go. I'll email you from home, when I sort out with myself and parents what's next."
"Okay," his voice sounded broken, "I'll wait."
"I know you will," she said.
- - - - - - - - - -
Her: Hi
Him: Hi
Her: just got back to town
Him: had an exciting summer?
Her: ya, not bad. visited family and friends. travelled a bit.
Him: missed hearing from you.
Her: am here now
Him: can I call?
Her: not now, maybe later.
Him: ok
Her: must tell you sumting. I spoke to parents
Him: uh oh
Her: mom understands but says no future for me there, i'd depend on you. dad's against.
Him: I told you they'd say that
Her: ya. got me thinking tho
Him: ...
Her: i can't say it nicely--i'm staying home
Him: ?
Her: dad found me a job
Him: can we talk?
Her: no, please. i decided. it's over. sorry
- - - - - - - - - -
Him: Happy Birthday!
Her: tx
Him: How is life?
Her: ok
Him: How do you like the job?
Her: what r u doing?
Him: What do you mean?
Her: let's not do this. don't txt me any more
- - - - - - - - - -
Her: congrats!
Him: ???
Her: heard you got married
Him: 6 mts ago
Her: i just found out. belated congrats! :D
Him: Thank you
Her: thought u'd wait 4 me ;P
Him: To borrow your words I still remember clearly: Let's not do this! Not after 10 yrs! Pls, don't text me again
- - - - - - - - - -
From: Her
To: Him
No subject
Hi. Hope you aren't still angry with me for that text long ago. I tried to text you, but you changed the number. So, here I am in a good old-fashioned email. :)
I met our old friend, he told me you came back. Retired, huh? Must be nice to retire so early. Anyway, I'm on vacation near by. Would you like to grab a coffee? It would be nice to catch up after all this time.
From: Him
To: Her
Re: No subject
Hi. Thanks for the email. I'm not mad at you. I'm not even mad at life. Things happened the way they were meant to happen. I've learned long ago to stop wondering 'what if?'
I've changed a lot, as undoubtedly have you. And I don't mean only physically. I'm happy the way my life turned out. Hope you are too. Since we retired here—my family is here with me—I met quite a few ghosts from the past: old friends, acquaintances and such. Every time I met an old friend anew, I shattered a beautiful memory and replaced it with ugly reality. That's why I'd prefer not to meet you. I'd like to remember you—remember us—the way we were. I hope life will not bring us close enough to ruin that.
#creative writing#writing#non-fiction#short story#romance#relationship#dialogue#love#storytelling#writers#write#amwriting#writing life#writeblr#writers community#writing community#writers on tumblr#spilled ink
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A/N: Happy Belated Birthday @alyssalenko and @jediserenity82 This was meant to be a birthday gift for both of you way back when. I know I’m very late but I hope you both like it
This is set in my Flirting with Desire verse. It’s K’agan/Aric, set in KoTFE after their reunion.
And just note, this one’s unbeta’d. All mistakes are my own.
Promises, Promises
Read Below or:
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321542
FFnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13250484/1/Promises-promises
I heard the door to our quarters whoosh open behind me and the soft padding of feet across the deck as someone entered. There was only one person that could enter our quarters without being buzzed in and I was thankful for his interruption. I saved the document I’d been working on and closed it. I hated the paperwork that invariably came with leadership. Turning in my chair I greeted him with a tired smile. “Aric.”
“Happy Birthday K’agan.” He was carrying a plate with a large slice of of air cake in one hand and a beautifully wrapped package in the other.
“You remembered,” I said, genuinely surprised. It had been years since the last time I’d celebrated it and with what felt like the fate of the galaxy resting on my shoulders, I wasn’t sure anyone would have time to remember my special day. It didn’t seem important in the grand scheme of things.
“Of course,” Aric sounded truly offended, “what kind of husband would I be if I forgot my wife’s birthday.” He handed me the small package and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, “And after years I finally have you to celebrate it with again.”
“Aric,” putting the gift down on the desk, I stood up. Stepping closer to him, I rested a hand on his jawline, stroking his fur comfortingly.
“Don’t” he stopped me from saying more. Closing his eyes, he turned his face into my touch. “I just want to enjoy our time together and never take it for granted again.”
I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his chest, giving and taking comfort from our closeness. He soaked it in, tightening his hold on me and resting his head on the top of my braids. Finally I felt him take a deep breath and let it out slowly, the tension draining from his body. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head before giving me a gentle squeeze and letting me go. “I believe you have a present to open.”
“What is it?” I excitedly asked, picking up the small package and testing the weight in my hands.
“Open it and find out.”
An excited smile brightened my face as I looked between Aric’s eyes and the package. Like just about any woman in the universe I enjoyed receiving gifts and it had been too long since I’d gotten one. Taking the small package with me, I moved over and sat down on the edge of the bed. I studied the square shape of it, trying to figure out what it was. “It doesn’t feel heavy enough for mods for my assault rifle.”
Aric rolled his eyes and sat down next to me, “I’m more romantic than that. I give you mods all the time. That isn’t a gift. In our line of work it's a necessity.” Motioning to the package, he added, “Now open it.”
Turning the box in my hands, I took my time, carefully peeling back a corner. I did not to rip the pretty wrappings. The longer and longer I took, the more and more my mate fidgeted in his seat. He started making a low rumbling sound of irritation in his chest. He was clearly eager for me to hurry up and open it. So I did the opposite, slowing down even more and taking more care until he finally broke.
“K’agan,” he said exasperatedly.
“What?” I asked, trying for innocent and failing when I smiled. “It’s beautiful paper and I hate to rip it.”
He didn’t say anything, instead Aric sighed and rolled his eyes at me.
“I want to take my time and enjoy it,” I admitted, taking some mercy on him. “It’s been to many years since you could give me a gift.”
He rested a hand on my thigh and rubbed it gently. “And there will be many more in the future,” Aric promised me.
“I know.”
“Then hurry up,” he growled at me teasingly, unable to wait any longer.
I shook my head as I glanced at him before grabbing the edge of the paper and tearing it off the package. Inside was a small box. Holding it in my hands, I glanced at my mate and quirked an eyebrow in question.
“Open it and find out,” he said, answering my unasked question while motioning toward the package.
Setting the package in my lap, I took off the lid and carefully folded back the tissue paper to reveal a beautiful silver frame. It was the image inside that took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes.
With the tip of my finger eyes, I traced the roped edge from top to bottom before trailing my fingers through the holo image inside. My twins...my babies...my cubs. My heart and soul. I missed them terribly. “Damn Arcann,” I whispered.
Aric growled his agreement as he gently rubbed my back with one hand.
“They’ve gotten so big,” I said as my tears trailed down my cheeks. I’d missed so much, birthdays, holidays, special events and occasions, times I’d never get back with my children. So many things…“They aren’t babies anymore.”
“No they aren’t,” Aric smiled as he studied the image.
They were toddlers when I disappeared. Not anymore. They were children and I didn’t know them. What were their favorite colors? Favorite foods? Favorite activities? Favorite movie? What did they like to do? What were their favorite subjects in school? Who were their best friends? I didn’t know my babies anymore…
Damn Arcann!
Sighing, I leaned into my husband as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. I rested my head on his shoulder and allowed myself to grieve for all I’d lost and would never get back. It broke my heart that I’d missed so much time with them. I’d loved being pregnant. It was unexpected but we welcomed it with all our hearts. Our happiness doubled when we found out I was pregnant with twins. After I gave birth, Aric and I took time off from our service to the Republic to spend it with our little family. I still cherished the memories of that time alone with my husband and babies. They got me through some dark times in my life when my demons threatened to drag me into depression.
“We’ll see them soon,” Aric said, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“Not until it’s safe.” No matter how badly I wanted to cuddle my children, I wouldn’t lead my enemies to my greatest treasure.
“Agreed,” Aric answered, “Until then your parents and family will take good care of them.”
“More like spoil them rotten,” I huffed out a small laugh. My mother had been over the moon when I told her she was going to be a grandmother. She had almost given up hope that one of her children would present her with a grandchild.
“Maybe a bit,” he admitted with a grin in his voice, “but they’re good kids. They’re turning out just like you,” he added, pressing a kiss to my braids.
“They are?” I questioned, turning my head so I could meet his eyes.
A small smirk graced Aric’s face, starting at one corner of his mouth and quickly working to the other. “They’re just like their la’e,” he said, now with a full blown, shit eating smirk, “Young, stubborn and think they know it all.” (mother)
I couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled out at the reminder of my early days with Aric. When I first met him I thought that Aric was an arrogant, overbearing, condescending, and uptight. After he was demoted and placed under my command, I’d add angry, justifiably but still angry, to the list. He thought I was all the above plus an arrogant hotshot, not ready for command. It was a tense few months together until we found our footing. Our friendship grew out of that time together until we were best friends and finally lovers.
I couldn’t stop myself from teasing him back. “If they turn out uptight and grumpy, I’m blaming you.”
For a nanosecond the smirk was wiped from his face and he looked like I’d slapped him. The look made my heart skip a beat, I was so nervous I’d crossed some unseen line, that our time apart changed something between us. Without a word he wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me to him, crashing our lips together in a hard, hungry kiss. I savored the taste of him in my mouth, the feel of his tongue plundering my mouth, teasing and exploring. I enjoyed every moment until the need for air finally made my husband break the kiss. Resting his forehead against mine, he said, “Blast woman! I’ve missed you.!”
“Missed you too,” I breathed out as I reached up and stroked the fur on the back of his neck. I took a steadying breath and let it out slowly. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to bask in the feeling of having Aric close, his scent and his touch. My senses were overwhelmed with him and I felt a knot of wanton need form in my tummy. I tilted my head slightly and exposed my neck to Aric and purred lustily, “So much.”
A possessive growl rumbled from Aric’s chest as he leaned in and nipped the tender exposed flesh of my neck. “Sei.” he said, as he rained kisses down the column of my neck until he reached my pulse point. (mine)
“Yours,” I moaned, the heat pooling in my womanhood as he bit down hard and marked me. A small whimper of pain and need escaped my lips, as he lathed his tongue across the bruised area in a soothing motion.
“Gods K’agan,” Aric managed, as he reached down and slipped a hand under the hem of my shirt and stroked the soft fur along the small of my back.”You’re so hot.”
“Please Aric,” I said breathlessly, trying to press my body closer to his.
Carefully taking his beautiful gift from my hands, Aric set it aside gently then grasped the bottom of my shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it to the floor. My sports bra quickly followed it, leaving my breasts bare to his hungry gaze. “Gorgeous,” he moaned as he cupped a breast and tweaked my nipple and it pebbled. Leaning in, he circled the other with the tip of his tongue, quickly having the same effect.
My breath caught in the back of my throat as he continued to suck. I couldn’t stop the needy noises that slipped out. Things were quickly escalating and I needed more. “Need you,” I managed to get out between ragged breaths.
He broke off and sat back on the edge of the bed. Aric met my hungry gaze with his own and smirked. “Lay back on the bed,” his voice deep and sexy.
I bit my lip and scooted back on the bed. Heat pooled in my womanhood as Aric stalked me up the bed, covering my body with his own, forcing me to lay back, and pinning me to the bed. He settled himself between my legs, pressed his hard, pant clad length against my overheated core. He grinded his cock against me as he leaned in, pressing his lips against mine in a hard, hot kiss. He pushed in tongue into my mouth, tasting and plundering. As our tongues duelled for control of the kiss, I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him into me.
Breaking the kiss, Aric mumbled warningly against my lips, “K’agan.”
I smiled, as I ran my hands up his muscled back, across his shoulders, and twirled them in the fur on top of his head. “Aric,” I copied, a note of teasing in my voice. I pulled his head back into another fierce kiss. This time I slipped my tongue into his mouth, fueling the passion between us. I lost myself in the kiss, thoroughly enjoying myself as our tongues touched and wrestled. I was startled out of my reverie as Aric grabbed of hands in one of his. We broke the kiss when he pinned my hands above my hands above my head. In lust filled haze, all I could managed was a confused, “What?”
With this free hand, Aric reached down and pulled a long, soft scarf from his pocket. He wound it around one hand and then the other before securing it to the headboard of the bed. After he finished, he pressed a quick kiss to my lips.
“What the…?” I pulled against the bonds.
“Relax,” he pressed another kiss to my lips. “You’re safe with me,” he started trailing kisses down my neck and I unconsciously turned my head, giving him easier access. “Nothing bad will happen,” the kisses continued down my neck to my clavicle. He dipped his tongue into the small dip between them. “I’ll make sure of it.” He swirled his tongue around, tasting me and driving me closer to the edge. “But if that’s not enough,” he continued down to my breasts. By this time I was panting with desire. “I’ll stop and release your hands,” using just the tip of his tongue, he circled one nipple and then the other. “Just say the word,” continuing his ministrations, Aric trailed kisses down my tummy and across my abs to the waistline of my pants.
“No!” My body was taut and desperate for him to continue his explorations. “Don’t stop!”
With my tacit permission, grasping two handfuls of cloth, he pulled off my pants and panties, tossing them to the floor. Sitting back on his haunches, Aric surveyed the sight before him, like a starving man at a smorgasbord. I was laid out before him, naked and at his mercy. A hungry look filled his eyes as he licked his lips.
My body instinctively reacted and another flash of heat slicked the inside of my thighs with evidence of my desire. My body was aching with need. I desperately tried to reign in my rampaging desires but failed miserably. I wanted him...badly but I needed to regain some control. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. After the third breath I felt like I could speak again. “See something you like?” my tone low and sexy, I hoped.
“Oh yeah,” he rumbled as his nose twitched and he scented the air. The broad smile on Aric’s face told me he was well aware of the effect he was having on me. “So beautiful and and all mine.”
“All yours.” Trying to play it cool and sexy, even with my hands tied above my head, I asked, “And what are you going to do with me?”
Aric’s smile got bigger as he moved to the bottom of the bed. He kicked off his boots and yanked off his socks. Standing up from the bed, Aric pulled off his shirt and dropped it nonchalantly to the floor. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, as he unfastened his belt and unsnapped his pants. A bead of sweat ran down between my breasts and settled at the between them as he grabbed his zipper and slowly lowered it. I couldn’t stop the moan of desire, when he pushed off his pants and boxer briefs and his erection sprang free and jutted out proudly from his body. Stepping out of his pooled clothing, Aric stepped around the edge of the bed and casually walked to the top of the bed. He leaned in, nipped my ear lobe and whispered, “I’m going to make you scream my name.”
I turned my head, and looked over my arm so I could meet his eyes and winked. “Promises, promises,” I teased.
“It’s more than a promise,” he replied, unsheathing one claw and delicately tracing a trail across my collar bone, “It’s a guarantee.” He continued down, over my breast and tracing around my nipple..
I couldn’t stop the small needy noises as I arched my back, pushing my breast up into his gentle touch I desperately wanted more.
“Like that?” he asked, as he circled it one more time before dragging his finger down my body, across my abs and over my hip. It was a delicate, barely there touch of his claw.
I whined in disappointment when he didn’t stop and turn his attention to my overheated womanhood, instead opting to trace a line down my thigh, over my knee and down my calf to my foot. He stroked the bottom of my foot and I giggled and tried to squirm away.
“Come back here,” he said as the bed dipped under his weight. “I’m nowhere near done yet.” He grabbed my legs and pulled me back to the center of the bed.
“Just don’t tickle me.”
“It wasn’t my intention,” he said, a note of humor in his voice but no promises.
He stayed on the bed and settled himself between my legs, gently picking up the left one. He pressed a kiss to the inside of my leg, just above my ankle. He left of a trail of kisses to the inside of my knee but he didn’t stop there. I could feel my excitement building as he continued up my leg. My nerves were tingling and a knot of anticipation had built in my tummy, by the time he reached the middle of my thigh. He was so close to where I desperately wanted him.
“Aric,” I nearly whined. My body burned with my desire. “So close.”
“Almost there,” he replied, pressing another kiss further up the inside of my thigh. He was tantalizingly close to my promised land.
I held my breath and trembled in anticipation.
After one final kiss to my thigh, Aric slowly lowered my leg back to the bed. He stretched out on the bed between my legs, making himself comfortable between my legs. As he stroked the soft fur on my womanhood, Aric looked up at me and asked, “Are you ready for this?”
“Gods!” My hips bucked off the bed when a fingertip ghosted across my clit. “Yes!”
Finally, Aric was exactly where I desperately needed him. Using one hand, he gently pulled back my folds and exposed my red hot center. He leaned in and lavished attention to my flesh with the tip of his tongue. He growled in satisfaction when I couldn’t hold back a whimper. The scents and sounds were quickly driving up our passions.
“Aric,” I moaned, pulling against my bonds, as I thrust my hips up into his face.
He didn’t bother to respond, instead letting his actions speak for him as he continued to lick and suck my sensitive flesh. Each pass of his tongue, pushing me closer to the edge. My back arched off the bed when his wet tongue darted into my heat.
I pulled harder against my bonded hands and tossed my head back and forth on the pillow. My hips started keeping time with his tongue as it moved in and out of my body.
“Need,” I whined as I arched my back and tried to push my womanhood further into his face.
Knowing exactly what I needed, Aric slipped his tongue deeper into me. He worked it in and out, faster and deeper each time, driving us both wild. I was a sweaty, needy mess when he swept a finger across my engorged clit.
“Aric!” I screamed, as Aric drove me over the edge of passion and I came hard. I pulled against my bound hands and thrust my hips up meeting him stroke for stroke. My orgasm slammed into me, rolling over me in waves, each one harder than the last. Aric purred and lapped at my center until I finally started to come down from my high.
After one last pass of his tongue, Aric sat up a bit and met my eyes. “That’s one,” he said with a smirk.
“Proud of yourself?" I managed to ask between gasps for breath.
"Oh yeah," he answered with a cocky smirk. He quickly moved up my body and settled himself between my legs, his length pressed against my wet opening, “But I’m not finished yet.” He crashed his lips against mine in a hungry kiss.
With one powerful thrust of his hips, Aric fully sheathed himself in my heat. I sucked in a startled breath at the feeling of him stretching and filling every bit of me. The feeling of him inside of me was paradise. He was right where he belonged.
“So perfect,” Aric groaned at the sudden feeling of my heated core surrounding and enfolding him. He took a few deep breaths, seemingly trying to regain some control.
“Aric,” I was unable to wait any longer, I squirmed and tried to encourage him to move, “fuck me!”
“Yes ma’am,” he answered with his lopsided grin, as he pulled out and thrust back in again...once, twice, three times...harder and deeper, hilting himself with each powerful stroke.
"Need," I babbled and yanked against the bonds tying me to the bed, making my back arch off the bed. "want…fuck..Aric...so damn good."
He set a fast pace, thrusting his hips, pushing us ever closer to the edge and driving himself deeply inside me with each stroke. I rocked my hips and met him stroke for stroke.
"Close," he growled and nuzzled into my neck as his pace became ever more erratic.
Gasping for breath as I tried to keep pace, and without forethought, I submissively offered my neck to my husband, giving him unfettered access to mark me. I knew beyond any doubt, that Aric would rather die than ever do me lasting harm.
“K’agan!” he groaned into my neck as his orgasm slammed home and he bit down hard on my neck, enlarging the mark already there and drawing blood as he came. He filled me with his hot cum, the feeling of warmth filling and spreading inside of me.
“Aric!” I screamed my release as I clenched down on his large member inside me, my orgasm sweeping away any further thoughts.
Aric tipped back his head at the feeling of my walls clamping down on his cock, milking him for everything he could give. “Maker!”
When we were finally spent, he rested his weight on his arms and tried to catch his breath.
"Getting heavy Aric ," I was finally forced to whisper in his ear. I was wrung out, lying limply on the bed but unable to move out from under his weight with my hands still tied to the headboard of the bed.
He reached up and released my hands, before wrapping an arm around me. He held on as he rolled off of me, pulling me along with him, so I lay sprawled across his chest, so we lay in a sweaty pile on the bed. “I love you,” he whispered into my ear and kissed the top of my braids.
“I love you too.”
“Happy Birthday K’agan.” He tucked an arm under the pillow, making himself comfortable, well aware I wasn’t moving anytime soon.
“Thank you,” I managed to whisper, drifting off into slumber.
“Told you it was a guarantee,” I heard him purr in contentment.
I smiled against. He was right. I did scream his name. What he didn’t know...next time he’d scream mine……
The End.
Thanks for reading!!
#aric jorgan#female trooper#star wars#star wars: the old republic#old republic#romance#smut#aric jorgan/female trooper
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Happy Birthday, Miami Rick!
So, like a total dork, I wanted to do something special for my muse’s birthday, which happened on Friday. x3 Guess I dropped the ball a bit. Even though it’s belated, I’m going to post this birthday drabble I just wrote. Enjoy!
Rick stepped through the portal and into the living room. A sweet scent wafted from the kitchen that caught him off guard. Surely, Diane was baking cookies for Beth. She hadn’t been happy the last time he bailed, but his memory was spotty. He’d been on the bender to end all benders. After all, he had turned thirty today. He could kiss his youth goodbye. Dying young would have suited him, but apparently snorting line after line and drinking enough vodka to fill a liquor store shelf couldn’t do that for him. Maybe if he’d dipped into the Fractal Dust as a sleep aid he wouldn’t be here.
The multiverse had a sick sense of humor.
The horribly hungover man stumbled into the kitchen.
“Daddy!” Beth chimed, a big smile lighting up her face. She sat at the kitchen table with her mother decorating a cake. Her little legs swung from her booster seat. “Daddy’s back! I told you, Mommy! I told you he would be.”
Diane forced a smile only for Beth. She rose from the table and walked over to Rick, heels clicking enough across the linoleum to make his headache worse. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss.
But her kisses were never kisses anymore. She used them sparingly as means to detect the liquor on his breath. “Welcome back.”
“Good to be—URRRP—back, sweetie.”
She didn’t linger long enough for Rick to get a chance to hug her. Instead, she broke away and retreated to Beth and the cake.
“Uh, you girls didn’t have to do this.”
“Beth wanted to.”
The little girl wiggled happily in her seat. “It’s Stir‘n Frost! When a big cake’s more than you need, you need Stir‘n Frost!”
Rick sauntered over and mussed up his little girl’s hair after a moment’s hesitation, mindful to steer clear of the stitches on her forehead. “Huh. Look—Look at you. Could be the next spokesperson for Betty Crocker. You—You’re cuter than those mule twins and that mom from the ad.”
Beth giggled but Diane rolled her eyes. She lifted her daughter from the booster seat and set her down. “Sweetie, why don’t you go play outside for a minute?” She opened the sliding glass door to the backyard.
“Okay! Can I pick the flowers from the garden?”
“Of course.” Diane watched Beth toddle out before closing the door. She turned her eyes to Rick, narrowing them. “Why do you go home to him?”
“What?” Rick asked, confused. The room seemed to get darker.
“Him. Why do you go home to him every night?”
Suddenly, he was a sixty-one-year-old man and backing into a corner. His heart raced. “Diane, baby, you—you—you can’t bring Ricky into this.” He swallowed hard. “You’re dead.”
His wife corned him, slamming his back into the wall and pinning his shoulders. Her manicured nails sunk into his pink jacket. “Who do you think put me in that grave?”
Rick grimaced, the little color he had draining from his face. “Th-That wasn’t my fault!”
“Don’t you think we could’ve had a life?” Her nails dug in deeper. “If you’d just come home every night?”
“You—You know I don’t do apologies, baby. I-It’s not really my thing.”
“Oh, is that so?” Diane wore a cruel smirk. Her nails were like knives. They tore his layers of clothes, piercing his skin and drawing blood. “Then why did you used to say ‘sorry’ for every little thing when you were back in high school? You think you can reinvent yourself? Fool me? I know you, Rick Sanchez. The real you. Not this sad eighties cookie cutter version of you.”
“D-Diane…” His eyes moistened with unspilled tears. “You—You’re hurting me.”
“I guess you could never grow out of that speech impediment. Or being a crybaby.” She pulled away only to push him to his hands and knees, the cold linoleum making him ache upon impact. “Grovel. Beg for forgiveness.”
“D-D-Diane, D-Diane… Diane, I—I’m—”
Rick sat up and gasped, naked body soaked in cold sweat. His eyes darted around blurred surroundings. He breathed laboredly, chest heaving up and down. It took a few minutes to realize he was in the master bedroom of his Miami mansion. The sound of the ocean from the opened window registered belatedly over the hammering of his heart.
He fumbled, eventually locating and grabbing the flask off his nightstand and downing all of what remained.
He looked at the spot beside him. Ricky was gone. He checked the clock. Already late afternoon. Made sense. He had little Morty to look after and a life of his own.
“Th-The nightmare begins,” he mumbled to himself humorlessly. The real one, anyway. Diane had never hurt him in like that in reality. Or known Ricky. It had been a memory mixed with a recurring nightmare and a slightly varying script.
He knew what day it was. And he had to meet Miami, Beth, and the rest of them in a couple hours.
He forced himself out of bed.
Steeled with liquor and just one bump to get himself going, Rick stepped into the upscale steakhouse near Paul’s hotel. The hostess at the counter informed him of how his party was already waiting for him.
Rick found the table. It consisted of Paul, Beth, Jerry, Summer, Miami, and a vacant spot for him. Jerry’s attendance was bullshit since he never lived in Florida. Must have been for the free meal and spring break and a desperate attempt to win back his wife despite her being married to her new husband for a few years now.
“The nightmare continues,” Rick muttered under his breath.
Jerry nudged Beth. “Is he talking to himself now? Could be the beginning of early dementia.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Jerry, please.” Paul took her hand from under the table, giving it an affectionate squeeze.
Miami rose from his seat. Even though that stupid school made him cut his hair and almost look like any other Morty during the week, he still maintained his tan and dressed how he pleased on the weekends. He currently sported an eighties style floral print dress, a platinum blond wig, and a full face of makeup. He pranced over and draped his arms over Rick’s shoulders.
“Hey, Rick. Way to keep in touch.”
“Oh, Miami, baby… I-I know.” His lanky arms looped around his grandson’s waist.
Miami stood on his tiptoes and pecked his grandpa on the cheek, leaving a lip print. “Happy birthday.”
Rick pulled him into a fierce hug. “You look bitchin’. Wish I could take you back to the club right now.”
“What’s stopping you?” Miami whispered into his ear.
Jerry cleared his throat. When that got no reaction, he spoke loud enough for the entire restaurant. “See, this isn’t normal. I thought that school you sent him to was gonna make him into a real man. People probably think Morty’s Rick’s hooker.”
Rick only broke the hug to storm over to the table and draw is laser gun from his belt. He grabbed Jerry by the collar of his wrinkled shirt and pointed it at his head. “What’d you say?! Wh-Wh-What would you know about real men since all you are is a real piece of shit?!”
Paul stood, putting a hand on Rick’s wrist in an effort to make him lower the gun. “Rick, be sensible! It’d be foolish to act like an animal and get kicked out of this fine establishment. Beth made the reservation a month in advanced.”
Rick’s blood boiled, but Paul’s comment was enough to make him look at his daughter. Instead of seeing her as a thirty-four-year-old woman, he saw the sweet, little cherub sitting in the booster seat. Even with her makeup on, he remembered exactly where the scar on her forehead would be from the airplane accident. He swallowed hard, recollecting how he’d been holding the girl in his arms one minute and seeing her in a hospital bed in what felt like the next. Diane told him he’d thrown her.
Rick put the gun away and let go of Jerry, who cowered at this point. The sack of shit probably wet himself. “Yeah, whatever.” He clipped his sunglasses to the front of his shirt and sat down. “You—You didn’t have to do this, Beth.”
Beth smiled. “I wanted to, Dad. Have some wine.”
Miami took his seat and giggled despite the recent scene. “Yeah, Rick. You’re gonna need it.”
“Totally,” Summer said, also smiling. “Happy birthday, Grandpa Rick.”
The evening was still young. Even after dining on steak and lobster, he still drank enough to get tipsy at the restaurant. And now he was totally shit-faced in a booth at his club. Like every night. Instead of having a glass of water after each cocktail, he did a line, purple powder dusted under his nose. As flamboyant of a Rick as he was, most would have expected him to make a scene and throw an even bigger party on his birthday. Instead, it was old hat, the club playing out the same way it did every night, eighties dance songs blasting over the sound system, shuffled but the same.
He danced the night away until his body felt too heavy and could no longer stand. The alien bartender politely helped Rick steady himself. She encouraged him to take the party back home and promised how she’d lock up for the night. She playfully said how maybe Rick could catch his young boyfriend if the stars were in alignment.
Rick just barely stumbled through the portal back into the bedroom, a bottle of vodka in his hand. He collapsed onto the bed and took a swig, though the majority of it made it onto his shirt. And he coughed like an amateur, though it stemmed from choking a bit rather than from the burning sensation his throat had grown numb to long ago.
“H-H-Here’s to you, you old bastard,” he slurred upon regaining his breath, watching as the room spun around him. “Happy fucking goddamn birthday.”
He started snoring then, the bottle falling out of his hand and rolling onto the floor.
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fic: it's a different kind of danger and my feet are spinning around
fandom: miraculous ladybug
characters/pairings: adrien agreste, marinette dupain-cheng, ladybug, ladrien,
summary: It was sometimes easier to talk to a stranger than to a friend.
notes: i belated realized that i had posted this fic to ao3 but not to here
After patrol, her route home takes her past the Agreste Manor and most nights when she threw a glance at Adrien's window, she doesn't know which windows are his, but all the lights are off. An early riser, she decided, which is something she and Chat could never be, not with their schedules.
But then one morning, she overheard a sleepy conversation between Nino and Adrien, when Nino asked if Adrien slept well. Adrien yawningly complained of a midnight shoot, his breath coming out in white plumes in the early morning, his blue scarf wrapped around his neck snugly and it's only because of Alya that Marinette doesn't walk into the wall or the door.
Alya half-heartedly moaned at Marinette, at her Adrien State, but Alya knew she's not listening. Alya sighed, tightening her grip on Marinette to make it easier to steer. Marinette adjusts her previous assumption that Adrien is an early riser, he's just working so hard that he can't help but pass out when he's finally home. Her heart ached in sympathy for him, couldn't they give him a break?
She wished she could help but she couldn't even form proper sentences around him, what could she do?
~~~~~~~~~*
"You okay, man?" Nino asked one morning, "You're even quieter than usual, today."
Marinette wasn't trying to eavesdrop but she was incurably curious, so she listened carefully while Alya stared at her bemusedly with her head in her hand.
Adrien closed his eyes and nodded, leaning on his desk.
"Should I get Ladybug to cheer you up?" Nino teased and Marinette froze, her emotions like butterflies at Spring Break.
So preoccupied with her own feelings that she nearly missed the way Adrien pinked before he covered his face with his hand and chuckled softly. "I'm fine, Nino."
Her heart stuttered as she stared at him, how even the smallest smile from him was like sunlight and she felt like a starving plant. Suddenly Alya had both her hands on Marinette's cheeks and was telling her to breathe, did she forget to breathe again? She inhaled softly and Alya patted her head with a smirk.
"I hate it when you do that," Alya complained and Marinette apologized while leaning on Alya's shoulder, breathing into Alya's neck until Alya giggled and squirmed away from her.
"Stop it! Alright, I forgive you!" Alya said, straightening and fluffed her hair as she eyed Marinette.
She would visit Adrien, Marinette decided. Chat had also been upset although he tried to hide it from her, and although she couldn't help him because they weren't meeting up today but just maybe she could help Adrien. It was sometimes easier to talk to a stranger than to a friend.
~~~~~~~~~*
Ladybug was outside his window.
He gasped, trying not to freak out because SHE.IS.RIGHT.THERE .
He stammered in his rush to invited her in. She's very shy, with a soft voice and bright blue eyes and apologized for visiting so late. He's taken back to the first they met, as Chat Noir and Ladybug, where she was so unsure and kept apologizing.
Finally, he placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her. He's trying not to freak out and trying to cling to his cool but he pretty sure it's not working. His mouth opened finally to speak but she cut him off.
“Sorry but if you start then I'll lose my nerve and everything will be for nothing,” She apologized quickly and he chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
“I've heard you had a bad day and I know you like Ladybug, I mean me and I just thought-I just thought that maybe you'd like a friend who'll listen or I mean-” She cut off as he laughed softly, she tried to bury her face in her hands.
“S-so you're offering to be my friend?” He stuttered, his cheeks aflame, trying to make sure he understood her and he couldn't stop the smile that grew on his face when she nodded.
“A friend who you can talk to, no matter what,” Ladybug said, staring at her feet, peeking at him when she thought he wasn't looking. “The mask helps with that, it's easier to talk to someone you don't know about your problems, than someone you do,”
“I-I'd like that,” He replied softly, a lot softer than he meant to and his face still too red for his liking. He was gifted with her dazzling smile and his heart soared. He gestured for her sit somewhere and she curled up onto a corner of the couch.
He sat down on the other side of the couch and glanced at her where she's examining his room. “So....so where I do begin?”
She smiled softly at him and he swore his heart stopped. Would his cheeks ever not be red?
She regarded him for a minute before speaking. “You can start wherever you want. You can just talk, Adrien, talk about anything you have on your mind or, want to talk about.”
He stared at her for a second, considering for a second before he raked his hair back before Adrien sighed out a word.
“Mom. My mom, she-, it was her birthday today.”
~~~~~~~~~*
She left somewhere after midnight, or just before, but she left him lighter. He felt as if he would float away if he didn't concentrate on keeping his feet firm on the ground. He climbed into bed with a small smile and even Plagg snuggled closer to him before they both fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~*
The moment she saw him, she just reacted, not really thinking about anything other than the fact that Adrien is in danger.
She swung, grabbed him around the waist and flung them both of them in the air. Honestly, it's probably really not her best rescue but cut her some slack her, it's Adrien. She tried really hard not think about the fact that his arms were around her neck. She more aware of his touch than she should be and she tried to take a shallow deep breath.
She really didn't think around him. She felt like smacking herself up the head.
Her feet barely touched the top of the building they landed on before they're flying again, this time they headed to the closest tall building, to the Agreste Manor.
She tightened her grip on his waist, ridiculously scared she would drop him even though she never dropped anyone as Ladybug before. His breath, she feels hotly on her neck, hitched and she worried for the next seconds that she hurt him.
The moment they're both safe on the building, she turned to look at him critically, trying to spot his injuries. His cheeks were ruddy from the flight, Marinette decided but she didn't find any wounds.
“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice soft as she stepped away. He shifted from foot to foot before looking up at her from under his lashes. Marinette was struck speechless by him and his sheer beauty. Even after meeting him as Ladybug, he still was the sun to her.
“You saved my life again.” His voice was breathless but the awe in his voice was still heard. Ladybug's cheeks were aflame as she smiled slightly. In the distance, Ladybug hears the Akuma raging and ranting and she sighed.
“You should probably go,” He mumbled, sounding as if he didn't want her to leave but knew she would. She blew out her breath slowly and reached out to put her hands on his shoulders, but stopped mid-air. She froze.
“My La-Ladybug?”
Her small smile stayed, though she stuttered as she looked him in the eye and slowly pulled back her arms. “In a minute, I know my partner is probably already there and I trust him. I need to make sure you're okay.”
There's no mistaking it now, his cheeks were still red as he caught her hand lightly. She tried not to react, she tried not to blush and failed massively, though she had hoped her mask covered most of the blush.
“I'm okay,” He mumbled softly and she nodded slightly before stepping away, her hand tingly and cold.
“Then, I'll see you later, h-,” The last word got stuck in her throat and her cheeks were aflame with the near slip-up and she gave him slight salute before she threw her yo-yo so fast that she didn't have time to look back.
She was going to die when she actually thought about it but for now, she needed to focus on defeating the Akuma. She needed to focus, she slapped her cheeks slightly to get her head in the game. Focus.
She and Chat arrived at the same time. Chat couldn't stop smiling stupidly and she herself couldn't keep her own focus properly on the Akuma. It took them longer than it should have, but they defeated the Akuma finally with goofy tired smiles and the customary fists bumped.
And after, she swore her hands didn't stop tingling where Adrien touched her until way after the battle.
~~~~~~~~~*
She visited him now, mostly on bad days, he didn't know how she knew but she always left him feeling lighter. She always left with hands that were too cold and were tingling until long after they said goodbye.
#miraculous ladybug#adrien agreste#marinette dupain-cheng#ladybug#ladrien#my fic#my writing#lady luck and her devoted natural disaster#i'm still ladrien trash#no surprises there
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Fic: A New Perspective
Kate Stewart Appreciation Week Day 7: Wild Card Kate in glasses for @sententiousandbellicose, a belated birthday present and thank you for organising this week.
Summary: Kate isn’t happy that she needs glasses, but the reaction she gets is not what she expected. ~2200 words. Minor suggestion of adult themes.
“Reading glasses! Can you believe it? Reading glasses!”
Clare smiled as she heard Kate clatter through the front door, kicking her boots off in disgust and marching into the living room. She stood before Clare, hands on her hips and pouting. Raven had leapt from his bed and was trying to get her attention, excited she was home.
Clare glanced up and gave Kate an innocent look.
“How did your optician’s appointment go?” she asked, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.
“Huh, well, as if it weren’t bad enough I need reading glasses,” she paused for dramatic effect, “They tried to offer me a choice of the ‘classic elegance’ range!”
Kate flopped down on the sofa next to her and crossed her arms. Clare closed the book she was reading and pulled Kate towards her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“I told you you were squinting at the newspaper, but do you ever listen to me?” Kate swatted her arm, knowing she was right but not wanting to admit it. “Anyway, what’s wrong with classic elegance? I think it describes you perfectly.”
She leant in to kiss her but Kate jumped up, still worked up about it.
“Its description is ‘timeless classics for the older lady’.”
“Ah.” She suppressed a smile, knowing it wouldn’t go down well.
“I’m not an older lady! I run around fighting aliens all day, for goodness sake! I almost told the girl that," she frowned at Clare's smirk. "Oh god, I just called her a girl, didn't I? She was probably in her thirties. I am old."
"Darling, you go to a Bridge Club, I think that ship sailed a while ago," she gestured to Kate to lie against her, tracing patterns over her shoulder. "Shall we go out along the river? I've not taken Raven out yet, I was waiting for you."
She felt Kate relax against her and she kissed her hair gently. "Or shall we do something for 'young people'? Whatever that might mean."
Kate chuckled and turned around, capturing Clare's lips in a kiss. "A walk sounds perfect. Maybe later we'll engage in some 'young' activities," she lowered her voice and Clare deepened the kiss, but they were quickly disturbed by Raven, who had heard the word walk and nudged his head in between the two of them.
"Alright, Raven, let me get my boots," Kate sighed.
*
A week later, Kate was sat at her desk, rubbing her temples and trying to focus on the page in front of her. She had to admit, on days when all she was doing was paperwork, her eyes felt strained. A message alert came through on her phone, as if something somewhere was reading her mind. She shuddered at the thought, knowing that there were species out there that could do that.
Your glasses are ready to be collected.
She glanced at the time, she could probably leave now. She'd done enough overtime over the years to go home at just before 4 on a Friday. She popped her head into the main lab, telling them all to have a good weekend.
*
She sat patiently while the optometrist measured the glasses and adjusted them so they would fit perfectly. She was chatting away about how she blamed the use of screens for people’s deteriorating eyesight. Kate nodded, not quite listening but humming her agreement in what she hoped was the right place.
In fact, she was wondering whether Clare would be home and what she would cook for dinner, trying to remember what they had in the fridge. She’d at least drop by the shop and get a bottle of wine. She smiled inwardly, a night in with a bottle of wine and a boxset would be perfect. She imagined what her boys would say. Of course she was getting older but as long as she could do it with her family and friends, and carry on at UNIT for as long as possible, she found she didn’t really mind.
The optometrist offered her a mirror to look in. It was like being at the hairdressers, she couldn’t say she didn’t like them whatever she thought. She’d already paid for them. She looked at herself from a few different angles. Simple black plastic frames, slightly squared. Her fringe brushed the top of the frames and she shook it out of the way. She glanced up at the optometrist, who was nodding silently.
“Yes, they…really suit you,” she said. “It might take a bit of getting used to, but I’m sure everyone will love your new look.”
She coughed and Kate could see her cheeks flushing a little. She smiled and thanked her for her help and paid. The receptionist seemed rather nervous, fumbling with the card machine. Maybe it was the end of a long week for her.
*
She got home to find Clare’s car was already on the drive. She grabbed the bottle of Merlot she’d bought, and her bag, and opened the door to the smell of stew wafting through the house. She walked into the kitchen quietly, watching Clare doing the dishes, humming along to Mozart’s Ave Verum playing on the radio.
She admired her, stunned as always at her luck. Clare was beautiful, thoughtful and caring, but could be ruthless when she wanted. She was similar to Kate, in that she’d spent her entire career fighting her way up the ranks. She had done it with a little bit of flirting, charming her superiors with effortless confidence then dazzling them with her shrewd mind and excellent lawyering skills.
She crossed the kitchen, leaving the wine on the island in the middle, unable to go any longer without greeting her wife. Clare turned at the movement and grinned, her face framed by hair falling out in strands from the ponytail that was normally sleek and neat for work. They kissed, warm and familiar but full of love.
“I wasn’t expecting you back so early. The stew’s not going to be ready for a couple of hours.”
Kate grabbed a tea towel and started drying up. “I can wait. I gave myself a couple of hours off after a long day of paperwork. I was hoping to get back before you, and cook for a change but you beat me to it. I didn’t realise how long it would take to pick up my glasses.”
Clare glanced at her, an excited smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, have you got them now? Can I see?”
Kate frowned at Clare’s eagerness. “Why the rush, I’m sure you’ll see them when I have to read something.”
“I just want to know what you look like with glasses that’s all.” She pouted theatrically. “Please?”
“Can’t I get changed out of my work clothes and shower first?” It was normally the first thing she did when she got home. Clare shook her head, looking her up and down as if appraising her suit, scarf and signature kitten heels. She swallowed and shook her head, quirking a half smile.
“No, I rather think the effect will be better now.” She said, her voice lowering. Kate felt the rush of heat to her face and flashed a coy smile.
“I’ll put them on then,” she murmured, and went to her bag to find them. Clare followed her and Kate realised she had probably been looking forward to this.
“Do you have a thing for women in glasses?” She smirked and Clare chuckled.
“Not particularly, but all week I’ve been thinking that you in glasses,” she paused, her tongue darting across her top lip, “will be delightful.”
Kate shook her head, attempting to be disapproving. She put the glasses on, she had been worried that Clare wouldn’t like them but it turned out there was no need. Her eyes darkened and she whispered ‘gorgeous’ under her breath.
“If I’d known this would happen, I might have got glasses sooner,” she teased, but Clare was hardly listening. She pushed Kate down onto the sofa, her hands running through Kate’s hair, kissing her passionately.
“I…take it they…don’t…make me…look old…” she managed to say, as she caught her breath between kisses. Clare shook her head and continued, pulling her up by her scarf and towards the stairs.
“What about dinner?” It was only half a concern for Kate, but the question was worth it for the growled answer alone.
“Dinner can wait.”
*
“How’s your week been?” Clare asked the next Saturday, due to various circumstances they’d barely seen each other. Most nights one had got into bed well after the other was asleep, and a scandal with one of the cabinet members had caused Clare to be in work early every day, uncovering a long reel of dodgy expenses and questionable emails.
Kate had got home that morning from a short trip to Geneva and had immediately sensed her frustration, listening to the rant and trying to offer helpful suggestions. Unfortunately, it seemed that negotiating with aliens came more naturally to her than understanding complex legal procedures in government, but she knew Clare needed a sounding board rather than actual advice.
Now they were sat on the sofa, whiskey on the table, and Kate was massaging the tension from Clare’s shoulders.
“Odd,” Kate said. Considering her line of work, every week could be described as odd. But this one had been even more strange, and it was a human cause, rather than extra-terrestrial.
“How so?” Clare questioned, bringing her back to reality.
“Half the people on the team have been acting a bit…I don’t know, off their game,” she started. There had been a few incidents.
It had started on Tuesday, she’d been writing an incident report, not surprisingly because Josh Carter had managed to cause significant damage investigating suspicious activity. Recklessness and super-strength plastic bones were a bad combination sometimes.
Jac had knocked on her office door, and she’d glanced up as Jac entered. Jac had stared at her for a few moments, before stammering out a greeting. When Kate had asked if everything was all right, she had furrowed her brow and left, having forgotten what she’d gone in for.
The next day she’d been in the lab, overseeing some tests on an object that had fallen from the sky. Luckily nothing as dangerous as a Nestene energy sphere, it seemed to be a bit of debris from a Zocci spaceship that had passed through the solar system. When she’d looked closer at some data and questioned the new lab assistant about it, she had gone bright red and dropped the stack of files she was holding. Kate helping her to pick them up had only made her fumble more.
When the assistant – Sophie, was it? – had scurried off, Kate was bewildered and looked at Colonel Shindi, who was overseeing the delivery of some new equipment in the lab. He shrugged and muttered something about nerves and first days. Kate didn’t think much of it, until the same woman on Friday had dropped her slice of cake from Mabel’s trolley in the canteen when Kate had smiled at her over the top of the newspaper.
Clare’s laughter interrupted her story.
“What?” she asked indignantly. It wasn’t the end of her story, there had been other times when her staff barely seemed to function that week. She had put it down to a bug going around, hoping it wouldn’t catch up with her.
“Were you, by any chance, wearing your new glasses when all this happened?” Clare asked through her snickering. Kate pondered for a moment, she still wasn’t used to wearing them, but they had been useful when looking at small print on a screen and staring at reports for hours on end.
“Um, possibly, why?”
Clare sighed in exasperation. Kate was confident, always liked to look her best and could turn on the charm when she wanted to, but she never realised what effect she had on people when she wasn’t really trying. And now she had the glasses.
“It seems you’ve managed to fluster quite a few women that work for you. And some of the men, I suspect. Didn’t I say you looked gorgeous in those glasses?” She turned and chuckled at Kate’s stunned expression.
“I…I didn’t…I mean, I don’t deliberately…you know I’d never,” Clare cut her off with a kiss.
“I know you don’t flirt with them, darling, but did you really not notice that some of your staff have a little bit of a crush on you?”
Kate shook her head. “When I’m at work there’s normally slightly more pressing matters,” she paused a smile playing on her lips. “Although now I know the effect these glasses have, I might see if I can’t use them to charm various politicians and military officials round to my way of thinking.”
Clare playfully slapped Kate’s thigh. “Hey, don’t be getting cocky now. And charming politicians is my thing, yours is crushing their fragile egos and reminding them who’s in charge.”
Kate resumed the massage on her shoulders and chuckled. Maybe the glasses didn’t make her old after all.
Also available on AO3
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and never ever watch the ten o’clock news
(Read on AO3)
Summary: Bodhi never expected to be sitting in an interrogation room with his best friend while she lied to the police about being a psychic. In retrospect, he probably should have. [AKA the Psych AU Literally No One Asked For]
I wrote this Psych AU for my dearest @taxicabsandcupcakes as an EXTREMELY belated birthday/decently belated Winter Solstice/slightly belated New Year’s/aggressively early Friend-iversary present, which means I’ve had this idea since your birthday but didn’t actually find the inspiration to write it until Psych the Movie happened and then had to invent an occasion for giving it to you. This is my way of saying thanks for your sage writing advice, endless encouragement, and for yelling about Jane Austen on twitter with me. Hope you like it!
There’s additional notes on the fic itself if you follow the AO3 link above, which I recommend reading if you’re the type who enjoys that sort of thing.
“I need you to drive me to the police station.”
Bodhi, to his eternal embarrassment, actually pulls the phone away from his face and stares at it in disbelief, despite the fact that he’s alone in his office and no one is around to appreciate what he assumes is some excellent physical comedy.
“Pardon?” he asks, after a moment.
Jyn sighs on the other end of the phone. “I need you to drive me to the police station. Please,” she adds as an afterthought.
“Doesn’t that honor belong to the cop who’s arresting you?”
“Very funny,” Jyn says flatly. “My bike won’t start, will you please drive me?”
“You’re still not telling me the most important part,” Bodhi says, already starting to feel his exasperation growing. “Why do you need to go to the police station? Did something happen?”
“Something is always happening, Bodhi. Something is happening right now. And right now. And also now--”
“Jyn, come on...”
“Okay, fine. You remember that thing we talked about? The one you said I shouldn’t do anymore?”
“I told you to stop wearing white after Labor Day, advice which you have consistently ignored…”
“I keep telling you, Labor Day is a holiday invented by greeting card corporations to sell product!”
“All those Labor Day cards that everyone buys and sends out to their loved ones,” Bodhi says, playing along with Jyn’s nonsense.
“Exactly!” Jyn practically shouts. “Also, if you think about it, it’s always after Labor Day. You know what I mean?”
“I don’t. Did you get fined for committing a crime of fashion? Is that why you have to go the police station?”
“No, it has to do with the other thing you told me to stop doing.”
“Do I really have to guess? I tell you to stop doing a lot of things,” Bodhi says. His initial worry has already subsided and he’s tired of this conversation. He needs Jyn to tell him what’s going on so he can get back to work.
“Bodhi, don’t be the dollar sign in Ke$ha’s name!” she says, clearly frustrated with him as well.
“She got rid of that, you know. It’s just an ‘s’ now.”
“Precisely.”
“Jyn, honestly…”
“I called in another tip to the police,” Jyn says, suddenly giving up the game. “And before you get upset, that one tip helped them solve, like, ten open armed robbery cases. So now the chief of police wants me to come down and they’re gonna give me a check, or an award, or something. I can't remember what it was, I wasn't listening. What’s a purple heart for?”
“Injured in battle.”
“Okay, so maybe not that. Whatever. It’s a big deal. The queen will probably be there.”
“Jyn, we live in America. There is no queen here,” Bodhi says, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Agree to disagree. What do you say? Will you take me?”
“I…” Bodhi begins to say before something occurs to him. “Wait a minute. You told me you were calling in those tips anonymously.”
“I was.”
“So how could they give you a reward, if they don’t even know who you are?” He asks.
“Okay, so,” Jyn begins to say in her best bullshitting voice. It's one that Bodhi is very familiar with. “I might have made a very tiny, laughably insignificant mistake when I called in this particular tip.”
“You told them your name,” Bodhi supplies.
“In my defense, I was a little drunk and I really wanted to impress this girl I was on a date with.”
“Neither of those are good excuses!”
“If it makes you feel better, my date wasn’t pleased either,” Jyn admits. “She was actually kind of insulted that I was paying so much attention to the news when we were making out.”
“As she should be.”
“You know I can’t help it! It’s just the way my brain works!”
“You’re telling me you actually picked up your clue just from the news?” Bodhi asks. “That’s honestly kind of impressive.”
“Tell that to her! She stormed off before I could tell her my whole ‘eidetic memory, trained in observation by my tough cop mother’ tragic backstory,” Jyn says.
“Great. What restaurant are we not going to be able to get a table at from now on?”
“She’s the hostess at Cilantro, that tiny place on Elm.”
“They have the best brunch in the city, Jyn!”
“Yeah. It’s a real loss,” Jyn agrees. “So, you’ll come get me on your lunch?”
***
The first time Bodhi spoke to Jyn was in fourth grade and he and his family had just moved to the country for his dad’s job. He was a scrawny, brown kid with a funny accent and, to make it worse, he transferred right in the middle of the year. All the kids in his class had already made their friends and they thought he was weird. Everyone except Jyn.
She’d dropped her lunch tray on the table across from him on his first day and said, without preamble, “I like your voice, it sounds like mine. Also, your watch is cool. Have you seen the movie Flubber? It’s my favorite.”
And just like that they were friends. Looking back on it, Bodhi’s not sure he ever really had a choice. Jyn had decided she liked him, and once she liked someone, that was it. They belonged to her. She was always between him and the meanest kids in school, distracting them, talking in circles until they gave up and left her best friend alone. You couldn’t mess with Jyn; she had something clever or weird to say to any of your threats or insults and she never cared what other people thought of her. That, and the fact that her mom was a cop and everyone knew it, meant that people generally left her--and, by extension, Bodhi--alone.
After high school, they went their separate ways: Bodhi went to college to try to make something of himself and Jyn left Santa Barbara on her motorcycle to get away from her mother and see the world. She sent postcards from every new city she landed in, and the two of them kept in touch even as Bodhi started working as a pharmaceuticals sales rep and Jyn continued to work whatever odd jobs she could find in whatever part of the country she was living in at that moment. In complete defiance of logic and the predictions of their families, the two of them stayed close despite the distance and their wildly different lifestyles. Still, no one was more surprised than Bodhi when Jyn reappeared in Santa Barbara.
He has tried in ways both subtle and obvious to get Jyn to tell him what made her come home, but with no success. Bodhi assumes it had something to do with her mother retiring and moving to Miami, but he doesn’t think that’s the whole reason. He’d worry about her, but Jyn seems the same as ever. She’s got the same mercurial temper--upbeat and joking one minute, put out and snarky the next--and she still flirts with every waitress, bartender, and barista they come across. Which, of course, means there are several fine establishments in Santa Barbara that Bodhi can no longer visit without someone asking about when his cute friend is going to call them back, or just telling him off in Jyn’s place.
The only thing different about Jyn is her newfound obsession with calling in anonymous tips to the police. She’s always been highly observant, but Bodhi has never seen her so preoccupied with using her skills to help people. He told her to be careful about it and he actually thought she would listen, given her distaste for the police, but, instead, he finds himself walking up the steps of the Santa Barbara Police Station with Jyn during his lunch hour to collect her reward.
Once they’re inside, Jyn goes to the desk to let the officer there know that she’s arrived and Bodhi takes a seat on one of the benches in the lobby. Within seconds, another officer drops off an enormous man in handcuffs, depositing him on the bench next to Bodhi with a muttered, “Wait here!” and then departing. Now, Bodhi’s come a long way from his terrified, scrawny, fourth grade self, but he is also, in no way, shape, or form, an intimidating person, so he does his best not to make eye contact.
After a few minutes, Jyn joins Bodhi and, as is her custom, puts herself directly between him and danger, this time in the form of their large, handcuffed companion. “What are you in for?” Jyn asks pleasantly. Bodhi elbows her in the ribs.
“They say I jacked my ex-wife’s car, but I’m innocent!” the man shouts.
“Ugh, cops, am I right?” Jyn says, in a tone that sounds more like they’re at happy hour than a police precinct. The man grunts in agreement and the conversation seems to be over, until Jyn adds, more quietly, “Hey, I don’t want to sound like I don’t believe you--because I totally do--but, if I were you, I’d brush that broken glass off your sleeve. To the untrained eye, it looks like maybe you broke a window or something.”
The man glances at Jyn and then at his sleeve, before sweeping his hand over the latter. The same officer from before returns to collect him as soon as he’s finished.
“Thanks,” the man says gruffly as he stands up and then winks at her over his shoulder as he’s lead away.
“No problem,” Jyn says and turns to Bodhi, at whom she rolls her eyes. “Idiot,” she adds, under her breath. “He just knocked all the glass into his boot.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Bodhi says, keeping his voice low.
“I know. What’s the point of helping criminals if they’re too incompetent to help themselves?”
“That’s obviously not what I meant,” Bodhi huffs. “Did they tell you how long this was going to take?”
“They said someone would be with me shortly. Please, try to relax.”
“They can’t just give you a check? It has to be a whole production?”
“Bodhi, don’t be the Brave Little Toaster’s less brave little cousin!”
“I just have a bad feeling about this,” Bodhi says, ignoring her.
“Noted. Now, be quiet and I might let you be in the picture with me, the mayor, and what I hope is one of those giant novelty checks,” Jyn says.
“I do love giant novelty checks,” Bodhi admits.
“You know that’s right,” Jyn says, and offers her fist for him to bump.
At that moment, another cop appears in front of them. “Jyn Erso?” he asks, sounding uninterested in a response.
Jyn stands up to greet him. “That’s me. And this is my associate, DJ Deathstar,” she says, motioning at Bodhi, who just rolls his eyes at her. Jyn’s been making up fake names for him since they were kids and it’s probably better the police don’t know his actual name anyway.
The officer looks perplexed but all he does is nod and say, “If both of you would follow me,” before leading them out of the lobby and through the bullpen.
They go through a door at the far side of the room, which leads them to a long cinderblock hallway with several doors on either side. The officer opens the last one on the right, and motions for them to go in ahead of him. Once Bodhi and Jyn have both crossed the threshold, he closes the door behind them suddenly and they both turn in surprise.
All at once, Bodhi realizes where they are.
“Shit,” he says, taking in the bleak room with the large table in the middle and the mirror on the wall. “Why are we in an interrogation room?” he asks Jyn.
Jyn, for her part, is glaring at the other figures in the room. Seated at the table are two more cops, but they’re in plain clothes, which must mean they’re detectives. They stand as soon as Bodhi speaks.
“Why don’t you both take a seat?” the shorter of the two of them says. He’s soft spoken with a slight accent and he looks absolutely exhausted.
Bodhi nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels Jyn’s hand on his elbow. When he looks over, she gives him a reassuring smile. If he didn't know her as well as he does, he could totally miss the anger behind that smile, but they've been friends for twenty years and he’s perfected the art of reading Jyn’s moods. These detectives have no idea what they've gotten themselves into. She cocks her head towards the chairs in invitation and he gets the message loud and clear without her saying anything. Do what they tell you and let me do the talking.
“They didn’t mention anything on the phone about a vetting process before they gave me the key to the city,” Jyn says, nice and light, once she and Bodhi have sat down on the other side of the table.
“You are not getting a key to the city, Miss Erso,” the other cop says, his tone clipped. He has an expressionless face and is frankly too tall to be an actual human being, as far as Bodhi is concerned.
“No…?” Jyn asks innocently.
“No,” he says, sounding even less amused than before.
“Listen, Mr. ...?”
“Detective,” he corrects. “Head Detective Kay Tuesso.”
“Your mother must be very proud,” Jyn says, and Bodhi has to hold back a snort. “And who’s this?” she asks, her eyes training on the other detective.
“My partner, Detective Andor,” Detective Tuesso says, obviously growing impatient with Jyn’s antics.
“Charmed,” Jyn says and actually extends her hand for Detective Andor to shake. He gives her a puzzled look in return.
Nonplussed by any of the annoyance she seems to be causing, Jyn pulls her hand back and leans forward conspiratorially on the table. “Now that we’re all on such friendly terms, why don’t you tell me what exactly is going on?” she asks.
“I’m sorry, Miss Erso,” Detective Andor says, “but we’re not all acquainted. Who is this?” he asks, gesturing at Bodhi.
Jyn turns and gives Bodhi a searching look. For his part, Bodhi would rather not tell the police his name, given he has no idea what sort of trouble Jyn has unintentionally mixed herself up in, but he’s pretty sure they can figure it out who he is whether she tells them or not. He knows better than to actually shrug at her, when everything about her demeanor is screaming be careful at him, so he just looks back at her as calmly as he can. They’ve been in enough crazy situations together over the years that he trusts her to get them out of this one. He sees her small smile of comprehension before she turns back to the detectives.
“This is Bodhi,” she says evenly. “He drove me here.”
“What, like a Lyft driver?” Detective Andor asks.
“Yes!” Jyn replies, snapping her fingers like they're all just brainstorming together and she loves what the detectives are bringing to the table. Which, knowing Jyn, might be what she actually thinks.
“And you brought him in with you because…?”
“I'm just quirky, I guess,” Jyn says with an easy shrug and barrels on before the detectives can question her any further on Bodhi’s presence. “Now that we’re finally all acquainted, can you get to the point? The meter’s running.”
Neither of the detectives look particularly convinced by any of this, but Detective Andor continues anyway. “You recently called in a tip about several armed robberies that occurred in the last few weeks. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Well, thanks to that information you gave us, we’ve apprehended a suspect.”
“Good for you,” Jyn says, with forced cheer. Bodhi can practically see her patience wearing thin before his eyes.
“I'm glad you feel that way,” Detective Andor replies, tightly, and Bodhi thinks that Jyn probably isn't the only one who's running out of patience. “But, you see, we have a problem. Our suspect claims he had a partner, somebody who masterminded the whole thing, and he’ll only tell us their name if we give him immunity.”
“Huh. That’s a real pickle,” Jyn says, flatly, as if the subject doesn't interest her at all.
“As you can imagine, we don't want to give in to our suspect’s demands, not when we can just arrest both of the people responsible,” Detective Andor continues, adopting a tone one would normally use when explaining a difficult subject to a child. “So, we’re trying to figure out who this accomplice is on our own. And that's why we’ve brought you here today.”
There's a full minute where Jyn just blinks at the detectives in confusion and Bodhi starts to worry that she's actually stopped functioning. He's about to grab her by the shoulder and shake her out of it when she blurts out, “I'm sorry, just so we’re clear, you want me to figure out the guy’s accomplice too?” When they say nothing in response, Jyn continues, disbelieving, “I'm just curious, when do you two start chipping in?”
The detectives exchange a look at that, and Bodhi suddenly understands what is going on.
“Jyn,” he says as a warning.
“What?” Jyn snaps, turning on him.
Bodhi heaves a deep sigh before speaking. “They think you did it,” he says.
“I--” Jyn begins to say before turning to look at the detectives. She must see the same thing in their faces that Bodhi did, because she suddenly freezes. “You think I'm the accomplice?” she asks, incredulity and anger making her voice go quiet.
The scariest thing about Jyn, in Bodhi’s opinion, is how calm she gets when she's really and truly angry. The detectives in front of them might be well trained in reading people and analyzing evidence, but he's pretty sure they are in no way prepared for Jyn when she's actually furious.
“The evidence you gave to our tip line could only have come from someone with inside knowledge of the crimes,” Detective Tuesso says.
“That is not true.”
“What other explanation is there?” Detective Andor asks, sounding at least open to the possibility.
“Maybe I'm just a better detective than you are,” Jyn says, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest, her tone casual but filled with malice. Bodhi does his best not to wince.
“Or, perhaps,” Detective Tuesso begins, “you realized your good luck was running out, that you and your partner would not be able to evade the police forever, and you decided it was time to cut your losses and turn him in.”
“And gave my name to an anonymous tip line while I was at it, just in the interest of fairness,” Jyn says, mockingly. “Oh, and I also trusted that my partner--who I had just betrayed--wouldn't rat me out to the police! You're right, I'm a criminal mastermind!”
“Jyn,” Bodhi says again, hoping she’ll actually heed the warning in his voice this time.
“You aren't offering us any other plausible explanations for your having such detailed information, Miss Erso,” Detective Andor says. “And if you can't do that, we’ll have to arrest you.”
It might just be that the precarious nature of their situation puts Bodhi in a dramatic mood, but he swears, in that moment in the interrogation room, that time actually stops, allowing him to see the exact second that Jyn comes up with a plan. There’s no mistaking the expression that comes over her face for anything other than pure, mischievous inspiration.
“Alright, alright, you got me!” Jyn says, and Bodhi thinks he might actually be having a heart attack. “I haven't been honest with you. But it's only because I--” Jyn breaks off and looks downward, the picture of innocence. “I didn't think you'd believe the truth.”
“And what exactly would that be?” Detective Tuesso asks, not looking convinced in the slightest.
“I'm psychic,” Jyn says and, yep, Bodhi is definitely having a heart attack. “I have the Gift. The Sight, if you will. That’s how I knew about those robberies. I saw them, with my third eye.”
The entire room seems to be holding its breath after Jyn’s “confession”. No one seems to know what to do with themselves and Bodhi doesn't dare to even look at Jyn. He’s pretty sure if he so much as exhales, all hell will actually break loose.
The two detectives, recovering from their shock, both move at the exact same time. Detective Tuesso stands abruptly and says, “If you're done wasting our time--”, while Detective Andor reaches across the table for the case file and says, “You mean to tell us--” before they're both interrupted.
Jyn, in a split second, leans forward and captures Detective Andor’s wrist in her hand. She closes her eyes, as if trying to remember some long lost memory, and takes a deep breath. When she's finished, she looks Detective Andor directly in the eye and says, “You have to stop blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault.”
“Excuse me?” He says, utterly bewildered.
“I hear screaming. Sirens,” Jyn says, waving her hands around her head in a way that Bodhi imagines is supposed to convey spirituality. “I smell...gunpowder? There was a shooting. You did...everything you could. Everything by the book.” Jyn pauses, then adds, “As always.”
Detective Andor looks petrified by this outburst. “How did you--” he begins to ask, his voice even quieter than usual.
“As I've told you, I have...abilities. Of the supernatural variety,” Jyn says. She seems to realize she's still holding his wrist and looks at it intently. “This is your first case back on active duty, am I correct?”
“Don't answer that,” Detective Tuesso cuts in.
Detective Andor looks at his partner like he had completely forgotten there was anyone else in the room, then looks back at Jyn. He pulls his arm away from her like he's been scalded. Jyn, for her part, looks back at him serenely.
“This is highly entertaining, Miss Erso,” Detective Tuesso begins to say, “but this proves absolutely nothing. And moreover--”
“Ah, fuck!” Jyn yells, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her temples, as though she's got the world’s worst brain freeze. “That feels like…glass. Broken glass. I can see it shattering. And there's a tall man there. He's very angry, and heartbroken. A lover’s spat, perhaps?”
“What are you--”
“Yes, definitely, an argument between lovers. I see...a heart…and an arrow...and the letter S. Does this mean anything to you?”
When the detectives say nothing in response, Jyn winces again. “Yes, of course. I see it clearly now. You have a man in custody here, about this tall,” Jyn says, gesturing well above both her and Bodhi’s heads. “The answers you seek are in his left boot.”
Both of the detectives are staring at her, completely mystified, and Detective Tuesso looks like he's about to make another attempt at bringing Jyn to order when there's three taps in quick succession on the one-way mirror.
“Excuse us a moment,” Detective Tuesso says, looking none too pleased with the interruption. “Come on,” he says to his partner, who seems to be having more trouble tearing himself away.
They both depart, leaving Jyn and Bodhi alone in the interrogation room. This would be a wonderful moment to confront Jyn about what the hell she thinks she's doing but unfortunately, they're not actually alone.
“I can hear you thinking from here,” Jyn says quietly.
“We’re not talking about this now. We can't,” Bodhi whispers urgently.
“I need you to relax,” Jyn responds. “Everything is fine, as far as you and I are concerned. Just, trust me. When have I ever lead you wrong?”
“Would you like that list in chronological order?”
Jyn makes a tsk sound in the back of her throat. “You can suck it,” she says petulantly.
“You suck it,” Bodhi fires back.
“No, you.”
“You.”
He and Jyn actually look at each other after that. “Suck it,” they both sing-song in harmony, like they're still teenagers and not the full-grown adults they're supposed to be acting like. Maybe there are worse people to be stuck in an interrogation room with, Bodhi thinks, at the exact moment Detectives Tuesso and Andor return.
“You're free to go,” Detective Tuesso says, looking pained.
Jyn rises immediately, grabbing Bodhi’s elbow to drag him up with her as she goes and giving him a kick in the ankle to get him moving towards the door.
“Not you,” Detective Tuesso says, pointing at Jyn.
“What?” Jyn cries. “But you just said--”
“We’re not arresting you,” Detective Andor says. “But Interim Chief Mothma would like to speak with you. Alone,” he adds, when he sees Jyn and Bodhi exchange a look.
Bodhi is about to object when he feels Jyn give his elbow a reassuring squeeze. He turns to look at her and she's smiling like she always does when faced with a challenge. Go ahead, that smile is meant to say, I've got this.
“I think they're finally going to give me my giant novelty check,” she says before she breezes past him out the door.
***
Twenty minutes later, Jyn finds Bodhi pacing on the steps outside the precinct. The look on his face must be more anguished than he realized because when he turns and sees her, she immediately throws both of her hands up in a don’t shoot gesture.
“Alright, before you yell at me—”
“What in the absolute fuck did you just do?!” he shouts.
“I said before you yell at me, dude! Come on!” Jyn practically whines. “And what I just did was save our asses, so you’re welcome.”
“You wouldn’t have had to save my ass in the first place if you had just driven yourself to the precinct and left me out of it.”
Jyn opens her mouth to argue with him, but Bodhi continues before she can get a word in. “And, furthermore, you just lied. To the police. About being a psychic. I mean, have you lost your damn mind?!”
“Hey, say it a little louder, why don’t you?” Jyn shouts back, and Bodhi sobers. “Feel better now?” She asks, when she’s given him a moment to collect himself. When he nods, she says, “I can’t believe you just furthermore’d me, man. You’re starting to sound like your mother.”
“Shut up,” Bodhi says, without heat. Jyn cracks a smile, which he finds himself returning tentatively. “What did the chief want to talk to you about?”
“Interim chief,” Jyn corrects, and Bodhi rolls his eyes at her. “She’s pregnant.”
“She wanted to tell you she’s pregnant?”
“No. I’m just telling you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s badass,” Jyn says, gesticulating wildly. “A pregnant cop? How cool is that?”
“Jyn…”
“Sorry for trying to paint you a picture with my words, Bodhi! I thought maybe you felt left out!”
“I was deeply hurt,” Bodhi says, gravely. “Now, will you please tell me why you got called into a meeting with the chief of police?!”
“Interim chief! And she wants my help with a case,” Jyn says casually. She even has the audacity to shrug.
Bodhi’s pretty sure he’s actually gaping at her now. Like, his jaw is actually hanging open in shock. He’d be embarrassed, but he just doesn’t have the capacity for any other emotions at the moment.
“Why?” He finally manages to ask, after an embarrassingly long pause.
“Haven’t you heard?” Jyn says with a mischievous smile. “I’m Santa Barbara’s most preeminent psychic detective!”
Bodhi groans and puts his head on Jyn’s shoulder. She pats at him in a halfhearted consoling gesture.
“Can you be the ‘most preeminent’ something? Does that work grammatically?” She asks, nonchalantly.
“Don’t you dare try to distract me with grammar, Jyn,” Bodhi warns. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know for a fact you listened to all of R. Kelly’s ‘Trapped in a Closet’, so there’s no way that’s true.”
“It was before he got weird!”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“I don’t even know how you did that back there,” Bodhi cries, getting them back to the subject at hand.
“What?”
“All that stuff you said in the interrogation room! How did you do it?”
“You know about my observation thing,” Jyn says, brow furrowing in confusion.
“Yeah, but that stuff with the detective. How did you know all that?”
Jyn sighs, as if explaining her skills is a huge burden. “I saw in the paper a few weeks ago that there’d been a shooting and the police had been involved.”
“They wouldn’t have published the officer’s name,” Bodhi interjects.
“No,” Jyn concedes. “But the officer at the front desk was asking about how the new guy was doing, being back from administrative leave. The cop he was talking to was the one who brought us into the interrogation room, so clearly he had been working with our detectives on the robbery case. And most of the cops in the SBPD are still left over from my mom’s time there—at least the ones that are old enough to make detective—and I didn’t recognize Detective Andor, so I figured it could have been him. Standard administrative leave is two weeks, the shooting happened roughly that long ago, and I noticed the bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping well. So, I took a stab in the dark. So to speak.”
“Jyn, all of that is totally circumstantial. What if you’d been wrong?” Bodhi says, even though he’s a little in awe of what he’s just heard.
“Luckily, I wasn’t,” Jyn says simply.
“What about all that stuff with the heart and the shapes and the letter?” Bodhi asks.
“Oh,” Jyn says, as if she’s already forgotten. “Our carjacker from the lobby had a tattoo on his ankle. One of those hearts that’s been shot through with an arrow. And it had the name ‘Susan’ wrapped around it, on a banner. Figured if Susan was his wife, she probably filed the charges against him and the letter would jog their memory if nothing else did.”
“This is unbelievable,” Bodhi says, shaking his head. “And what does the Chief want from you?”
“Interim chief. And she wants me to help them with a kidnapping case.”
“I’m a little nervous about the strength of our police force if they have to hire you to solve a kidnapping.”
“I know, right?” Jyn says. “Apparently, it’s the heir to some hoity-toity family’s fortune that’s gone missing. The family is close with the governor and Interim Chief Mothma is under a lot of pressure to solve this thing quickly.”
“They think this guy is still alive?”
“I guess so.”
“Huh,” Bodhi says. “Are they paying you?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“So, that’s a no.”
“It’s more that they’re paying me by not arresting me,” Jyn says. “And only if I deliver.”
“And what happens if you don’t?” Bodhi asks, not totally convinced he wants to know the answer.
“They’ll arrest me for obstruction of justice,” Jyn says simply.
“Damn it, Jyn.”
“I don’t know why you’re so worried. This is like my two greatest strengths: observation and bullshitting. My whole life has been preparation for this!”
“Only you would see having to prove to the police that you’re psychic by solving a high profile missing persons case as a fun challenge. Do I need to remind you you’re not actually psychic, or are you at least still mildly self-aware?” Bodhi asks.
“Bodhi, don’t be an under-whipped meringue! I know what I’m doing!” Jyn says, and he has to admit, he can’t remember the last time she was this excited about anything. “Now, do you want to go interrogate some fancy white people with me, or not? I bet they own some Baroque art or whatever that you can nerd out about while I investigate.”
“Jyn, I can’t,” Bodhi says, and he thinks he sees Jyn’s face fall, just for a second, before she quickly hides her reaction. “I have to get back to office, I have a million calls to return. I can’t get involved with one of your crazy schemes today, I’ve lost enough time already.”
As soon as it’s out of his mouth, he knows it was the wrong thing to say. He and Jyn don’t fight, not really, and any spats they do have are over as quickly as they begin, usually because they start punching each other and get it out of their systems. What does happen occasionally, though, is that Jyn will shut him out—when she feels rejected in any way, or when she’s going through her own stuff that she doesn’t want to talk about. Bodhi sees the neutral mask that immediately goes over her features and he knows she’s upset by what he’s just said.
“Jyn—” he starts to say, reaching for her.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jyn interrupts, already looking around for her exit, instead of looking at him. “I’m gonna get a cab. I’ll talk to you later.”
As she passes by, she claps Bodhi on the shoulder and then she’s gone.
***
Just like they don’t fight, he and Jyn also don’t apologize. It took some getting used to in the beginning for Bodhi, a naturally nervous person for whom apologizing—even when nothing is his fault—is just a reflex. Jyn, on the other hand, never apologizes for anything. If the phrase “I’m sorry” comes out of her mouth, it’s always a transitional phrase at best, and sarcastic at worst. Over the years, Bodhi has warmed to Jyn’s way of dealing with things. On the rare occasions they do actually fight, Jyn will disappear for a few days and then resume contact as if nothing ever happened. She just needs time and space to get over herself sometimes. And once she has, she doesn’t hold a grudge, at least not when it comes to him. Old issues don’t come back up in arguments years later with her, the way they do in Bodhi’s other relationships. It’s a fault he’ll readily admit he has as well, never letting old grievances go, so it’s probably just as well Jyn isn’t like that with him. Maybe, every once in a while, they actually do bring out the best in each other.
All of this is to say, when Bodhi doesn’t hear from Jyn for three days after their conversation outside of the police station, he’s not actually worried. It’s pretty standard behavior from her, and, even without their weird conflict, they don’t always talk everyday anyway. There’s the niggling concern in the back of his mind that she’s working on a case, and she could actually be in danger and that’s why he hasn’t heard from her, but it’s not enough to really drive him to distraction.
Still, his relief when he gets a call from her on that third day is immediate and a little overwhelming. It’s short-lived, however, when he hears how tired she sounds on the phone and when she asks, tentatively, if he’ll come pick her up because her bike broke down on some isolated back road. His keys are in his hand before he even hangs up and the next thing he knows he’s calling over his shoulder to the woman at the front desk that he’ll be out all afternoon with a family emergency.
It’s nearly forty minutes later that Bodhi actually finds her, because, while Jyn did her best to explain where she was, she is stranded on a truly deserted back road and there’s no landmarks nearby for reference. When he arrives, Jyn is still trying to get her bike to start, with no success. Her jeans are covered in mud, her hands are coated with black grease from working on the motorcycle, and Bodhi is pretty sure she hasn’t brushed her hair since he saw her last. She looks a complete mess, and worry bubbles up in Bodhi’s throat just seeing her.
He pulls over, throws the car in park, and gets out in something of a daze, but he can’t actually bring himself to say a word. Anything he says will betray his concern, and there’s nothing that raises Jyn’s hackles more than being fretted over. When she makes eye contact with him, he says, “You look great,” because he can’t come up with anything else and Jyn’s face breaks into a relieved smile.
“Yeah, well, you know what they say,” she responds, gesturing at herself with one hand. “Dress for the job you want.”
“You want to be Farmer Hoggett?”
“Danny Zuko, actually,” Jyn says, waving her motor oil-stained hands at him. She follows up the gesture with a heavy sigh, and all the energy seems to drain out of her at once.
“You’ve only been a fake psychic detective for three days, Jyn,” Bodhi jokes. “You can’t be tired of it already.”
“Watch me,” she says through a yawn. “And I may be a fake psychic, but I’m a real detective, thank you very much.”
“You have the bags under your eyes to prove it,” Bodhi says, the only way he can think of to bring up her disheveled state.
“Thanks, they’re vintage.”
“I thought so,” Bodhi replies, and then he decides they’ve goofed around enough, given the situation. “Seriously, Jyn, what happened? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she says, reflexively. “I hurt my knee when the bike crapped out, but that’s that worst of it. I just need a ride home, so I can change my clothes and keep working on the case.”
Bodhi wants to ask more questions, but he knows Jyn is probably frustrated enough as it is and she’ll probably be more inclined to talk once they’re on their way.
“Okay,” he says, inclining his head towards his car. When Jyn starts to move towards him, he asks, “What are you going to do about your bike?”
“I got a guy coming to pick it up. He’ll bring it home for me,” Jyn says, as Bodhi holds open the passenger side door for her.
“You should bring it to a mechanic.”
“You should suck it,” Jyn counters. “I can fix my own bike.”
“Clearly,” Bodhi says, gesturing at the dejected looking motorcycle behind them. Jyn scowls at him from her seat as he closes the car door.
Once he’s back in the driver’s seat and they’re on their way back to Santa Barbara, Bodhi looks over at Jyn. Up close, she looks even more exhausted than he initially thought.
“When was the last time you slept?” He wonders aloud.
Jyn gives the appearance of thinking it over before saying, “When did we last see each other?”
“Three days ago.”
“Sometime before that, then.”
“Good grief,” Bodhi mutters. “How are you even alive right now?”
“I’m not. I’m a ghost. I’ve been a ghost this whole time,” Jyn says, drily.
“How dare I care about your well being,” he says, shaking his head bitterly.
For once, the guilt trip actually seems to have an effect on Jyn, because she sobers a little and says, “You’d be amazed what a great motivator the threat of jail time can be.”
“I honestly forgot all about that,” Bodhi says, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Really? You?”
“I guess I just had no doubt you’d solve the damn thing,” he replies, with a shrug. “You’re Jyn. You’ve never met a crazy situation you couldn’t get yourself out of.”
When he chances another look in her direction, she’s looking back at him with a serious expression. “Your faith in me is undeserved,” she says. “But appreciated.”
“Anything for you,” Bodhi says, and he means it. They’re always going to be there for each other; it’s what best friends are for.
They drive in companionable silence for a few minutes, and Bodhi wonders how he’s going to get her to tell him about the case. He doesn’t have long to worry about it, though, because the next thing he knows, he sees flashing lights in his rear view mirror and hears a siren blaring.
“Jyn,” Bodhi says warningly as he pulls over. “What did you do?”
When he looks over at her, however, she looks just as confused as Bodhi feels. This must be a surprise to her as well.
Still, Bodhi can’t help but add, “You better tell me now, so we can get our stories straight.”
“I have no idea what’s going on,” Jyn says, shrugging. She reaches over and gives his arm a squeeze, then adds, “But I’m glad to have you on my side.”
The cop who’s just pulled them over taps on the window, and Bodhi does his best not to jump. He rolls down the window.
“Good afternoon, officer. What can I do for you?” Bodhi asks, trying to sound casual and definitely failing.
“License and registration,” the cop says, and Bodhi hurries to oblige. He hands over the items, but the cop is looking at Jyn very intently.
“You look familiar,” he says to her.
“I was the model for the Morton’s Salt Girl,” Jyn says immediately, and Bodhi has to suppress the urge to smack her.
The officer looks up from Bodhi’s license when she speaks. “Hey, that’s it. You’re Lyra’s kid, aren’t you?” He asks, finally cracking a smile.
“Guilty as charged,” Jyn says with a rueful smile, and Bodhi has to resist the urge to smack her again. He settles for glaring at her instead.
“I worked with your mom for a long time, right up until she retired,” the officer says, his whole demeanor changed to one of friendliness. “How’s she doing?”
“Oh, you know. She’s in Miami. Livin la vida loca, and all that,” Jyn says, casually, as if she’s spoken to her mother mother recently, which Bodhi knows for a fact she hasn’t.
The officer, for his part, looks confused. “Is that so?” He asks. “Because I saw her at the Safeway just last month.”
“She was just visiting,” Jyn lies, automatically.
“She told me she was moving back to the old house,” the cop says.
“Well, you’re just remarkably well informed, aren’t you?” Jyn says, feigning sweetness.
“Uh, is there a problem here, officer?” Bodhi asks, trying to distract the cop from asking Jyn any more questions.
“One of your tail lights is out,” the officer says, turning his attention back to Bodhi reluctantly. “You need to get that fixed,” he adds, handing Bodhi back his license and registration.
“Absolutely, sir. I will. Right away,” Bodhi says eagerly.
The officer nods. “Alright, then. You two have a good rest of your day, now. And tell your mom Officer Macklin says hello,” he adds to Jyn.
“You got it,” Jyn says, already turning away from him.
The cop heads back to his own car and Bodhi pulls away carefully. It isn’t until the cop car is a tiny, retreating speck in the rear view mirror that Bodhi chances speaking to Jyn.
“Your mom is back in Santa Barbara?” He asks carefully.
“Apparently,” Jyn says with an unconvincing shrug. She’s looking down at her phone instead of meeting his eye.
“You want me to bring you to her house instead?” Bodhi asks, looking back and forth between her and the road.
“No need. Liverpool has a match today,” Jyn says, looking up from her phone. “And there’s only one bar in town that will put football on the TV. Take your next right.”
***
If anyone were to ask him, Bodhi would say he loves Jyn’s parents like they’re his own, but he’s also pretty glad that they’re not. Growing up, he spent a lot of time at Jyn’s house and he got to know Galen and Lyra Erso fairly well. He’d always been closer to Jyn’s dad, who was always interested in Bodhi’s school projects and honors classes. They had a lot of similar interests, which couldn’t be said of Bodhi and his father. Bodhi loves his dad, and he knows his dad loves him, but they don’t always have a lot to talk about. So it was nice to talk to Galen, every now and then, and imagine what it would be like.
Jyn, for her part, was always closer with her dad too, but, because his job had him traveling a lot, she spent a lot more time with her mother, whose odd hours as a cop meant she could be around for her kid more often than her husband could. Lyra is hard to describe; she’s not a particularly warm person, but she is undeniably generous and invested in others. That’s always been Bodhi’s experience, at least. For the longest time, he assumed Jyn’s mother hated him, as she never seemed happy to see him. It took time for him to realize that she showed affection more practically than that. She has never forgotten a single thing Bodhi has ever told her, he’s pretty sure, which is how she remembers things like his mom’s birthday and her favorite kind of flowers to send every year, and how, all through his high school years, she knew his top choice colleges—in order—by heart after he mentioned them to her once. Much like he came around to Jyn’s unique personality, Bodhi eventually realized that Lyra’s intense questions and no-nonsense attitude were the product of her caring very deeply, rather than not caring at all. It was easier for him, though. She wasn’t his actual mother and if she ever got to be too much for him, he could just go home. Jyn didn’t have that option.
For as long as he can remember, Jyn and her mother have been like oil and water; they just do not mix. It would be easy to blame the animosity on Jyn’s parents’ divorce when she and Bodhi were in high school, but the conflicts between Jyn and Lyra were going on long before that. Jyn has always resented her mother for raising her basically from birth to become a cop, without taking her daughter’s personality or interests into account. When her parents separated, things only got worse, especially when her parents agreed, without consulting her, that she would live full time with her mother. From there, Jyn’s rebellious streak only got worse and as soon as she turned eighteen, she was out of her mother’s house.
About a year ago, Lyra retired early from the police force and moved all the way to Miami. Bodhi
never expected Jyn to come back to Santa Barbara permanently, but if there was one thing that didn’t surprise him about her return, it was that she waited until her mother was gone to do so.
But Lyra was back now too. The proof was right in front of them as they entered the pub. Jyn’s mother was sitting alone at a table near the bar with a full beer in front of her, her eyes on the television that was set to the football match.
Jyn makes an annoyed noise in the back of her throat, which brings Bodhi’s attention back to her. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, it’s just—” Jyn pauses to roll her eyes. “She’s such a cop, that’s all. I mean, she can see every possible exit from her seat. Does she ever take a day off?”
“She’s retired,” Bodhi points out.
“You can’t retire from being a pain in the ass.”
“That’s lovely, Jyn,” Bodhi says. “You ought to cross-stitch that on a pillow.”
“And you ought to suck it,” Jyn shoots back, pleasantly.
“No, I insist. You suck it,” he replies, and throws his arm out in an after you gesture.
Jyn shakes her head at him. “Here we go,” she says, like she’s approaching an executioner, and not her mother.
As they cross from the door to where Jyn’s mother is sitting, something occurs to Bodhi. “Wait, what do I call her?” He asks suddenly.
“What are you talking about?” Jyn asks under her breath.
“I normally call her Mrs. Erso, but your parents are divorced now, yeah?”
“Funny story,” Jyn says, though the grim look on her face says otherwise. “They’re actually not.”
“Wait, what? It’s been, like, 10 years!”
“Believe me, I know.”
“So, what are they, if not divorced?”
“Hella estranged,” Jyn says with a shrug.
“Is that the legal term?” Bodhi asks, unamused.
“Yes.”
“Seriously, what do I call her, Jyn?”
“I don’t know, dude. Call her Deputy Dog, for all I care,” Jyn whisper-shouts at him. By then, they’ve reached her mother’s table, and Jyn says, “Hey, Mom!” as if she’s surprised to see her there. In her mother’s favorite pub. Where they specifically came looking for her.
“Jyn,” her mom says with a nod. Bodhi’s fairly certain she saw them come in. Hell, she might have spotted them before they got to the door. She’s that good. “Hello, Bodhi. How are you?” she says, turning her attention to him and offering her hand to shake.
“Hello, Mrs. Erso,” he responds. She has the strongest handshake of anyone he knows. It’s like she took a seminar or something. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Are you still working in pharmaceuticals?” she asks, taking a sip of her beer.
“Yes.”
“Good for you. It’s nice to see some young people are able to hold down a job for more than six months.”
Jyn rolls her eyes at the obvious dig in her direction. Bodhi coughs to mask his discomfort and mumbles a response.
“Bodhi would ask about how Miami is treating you, but, unfortunately, you’re not in Miami. You’re here,” Jyn says, her voice pitchy with annoyance.
“I didn’t care for Miami,” Lyra says simply. “Too humid. Too many nightclubs. I got bored.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me you were coming back because…?”
“You would have to call me on occasion to know anything about my life, dear,” Lyra says. “Or return my calls. But you don’t. Besides, if I had told you, I’m sure you would have scurried off to some new town to get away from me as soon as you found out.” When Jyn doesn’t say anything in response, Lyra asks, “Am I wrong?”
Jyn only shrugs in return. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?” She says, after a long pause.
“Indeed,” Lyra says, giving her daughter’s appearance an unimpressed glance. “What happened to you?” She asks.
Jyn looks down at her clothes, which are still covered in mud from earlier. “Oh, this? This is the fashion, Mom. All the kids are doing it.” When Lyra continues to look at her expectantly, Jyn relents and says, “My bike broke down on this muddy back road. I was trying to fix it, but Bodhi had to come get me.”
“I hate that stupid bike,” Lyra says. “You should get a reliable car. Like Bodhi has.”
“Bodhi has a company car, Mom,” Jyn says, exasperated. “And it looks like a blueberry.”
“Hey,” Bodhi interjects. “My car is nice.”
Jyn waves him off as her mother asks, “And you have nothing better to do on a weekday than drive around on your motorcycle? Do you even have a job?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Jyn says, as she pulls out the seat across from her mother and drops into it, “I happen to be working for the SBPD. On a case. And an important one at that!”
Bodhi doesn’t point out that the police aren’t paying her and that she’ll go to jail if she fails, mostly because he knows that Jyn just said it to get a reaction out of her mother. And she certainly gets it. Lyra’s face drops and she asks, astonished, “You? Working for the police?”
“Just like you always wanted,” Jyn says, leaning back in her seat triumphantly.
“I wanted you to become a cop. A real police officer,” Lyra says sharply. “Am I right in assuming that’s not what happened?”
“I’m consulting,” Jyn says, which is being awfully generous, Bodhi thinks to himself.
“And why would they want you to consult on a case?”
“Because,” Jyn begins, and Bodhi can see her trying to figure out what to tell her mother that will be easier than the truth. She sighs, closing her eyes, bracing herself. “Because I told them I was psychic.”
Lyra blinks a few times, very quickly, but otherwise shows no signs of shock. “You did what now?” She finally asks.
“I’ve been calling in tips to the police, stuff I’ve noticed from the news or the paper, using the skills you taught me,” Jyn explains. “But the last time, I gave them my name, by accident. And they kind of thought I was responsible for the crime. I told them I was psychic so they wouldn’t arrest me.”
“And then they just hired you to work on a case?” Lyra asks, disbelieving. “No questions asked?”
“Basically,” Jyn says with a shrug. Once again, she conveniently leaves out the part where she’ll be arrested if she doesn’t solve the case, but Bodhi still thinks it’s better not to mention it.
Lyra, for her part, seems to know Jyn isn’t telling her the whole story and she’s clearly weighing whether it’s worth interrogating her daughter further. “That department has really gone downhill since I left,” she says instead.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“So why are you here?”
“What do you mean?” Jyn asks. “I heard from Officer Macklemore—”
“Macklin,” Bodhi corrects.
“I’ve heard it both ways,” Jyn says to him, before looking back at her mother. “Anyway, I heard from Officer Macbook that you were back in town, and I came to confront you about it.”
“How is Macklin, anyway? Last time I saw him, his arthritis was acting up and giving him a lot of trouble,” Lyra says.
“How would I know anything about his arthritis?” Jyn asks impatiently. “All he said was to tell you hi from him.”
“Well, that’s very nice of him,” Lyra says pleasantly.
“Mom!”
“What, Jyn?” Lyra suddenly snaps. “You expect me to believe that you actually came here because you were so upset that I hadn’t told you I was back in town. Do you think I’m stupid? I know you don’t care! So, you can either tell me what you really want from me, or we can keep talking about my old coworker’s joint problems. Either way suits me fine.”
The silence that follows Lyra’s outburst is excruciatingly awkward. Jyn has a look on her face that Bodhi has never seen before, and he’s pretty sure it’s because she’s about to burst into tears. In their time as friends, Bodhi has seen Jyn go through some shit, including some truly awful arguments with her mother, but he’s never once seen her cry. He has no idea what to do in this situation—will reaching out for her make it worse? Should they just leave? Before he can do anything, though, Jyn drops her head into her hands and sighs.
“I can’t figure it out,” she says, shakily. “I cannot figure this damn case out. I mean, I found the bodies and everything, but it still doesn’t make sense. The cops think it’s a murder-suicide, open and shut. But it doesn’t feel right and I can’t prove otherwise.”
Lyra is looking at Jyn intently, waiting for her to say more, but she doesn’t. She just sits there, head in hands, looking small and exhausted. After what feels like an eternity, Lyra speaks. “How many hats?” She asks quietly.
Jyn takes her hands away from her face to glare at her mother. “What?”
“How many hats are there in the room?” Lyra asks again, even more calmly.
“I heard you. I just can’t believe you want me to do this right now!”
“You’re out of practice, and you’ve gotten soft. That’s why you can’t solve the case,” Lyra suggests with a shrug. “Now, tell me how many hats.”
“Mom, this is a stupid game from when I was a kid. I’m not gonna—”
“If you can’t do it, just say so.”
“Ten,” Jyn says, not breaking eye contact.
“Go on, then. And don’t cheat.”
Jyn sighs, a deep, frustrated noise, and closes her eyes. “Four baseball caps on the guys at the bar,” she says. “The couple in the booth at the back are both wearing cowboy hats; his is leather, hers is straw. The family at the table in the corner have a baby in a sun hat and a boy in one of those rainbow beanies with the spinner on top, which I didn’t even know existed in real life, so that’s interesting. There’s a captain’s hat hanging on the wall with all of the other junk that counts as decor in this godforsaken place. And when we came in, the chef was out talking to the bartender and he was wearing a hat. I assume we were going from when we walked in, yeah?” Jyn asks smugly.
Lyra nods and smiles. “You missed one,” she says.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. The woman at the bar.”
Jyn doesn’t even look. “She’s wearing a visor. A visor isn’t a hat.”
“What is it, then?”
“Ugly,” Jyn says, simply. “And it’s red, because I know that’s what you’re going to ask next.”
“Not bad,” Lyra admits.
“I’m not out of practice,” Jyn says fiercely. “I’m as sharp as I’ve ever been.”
“You just needed to focus on something else, instead of the case,” Lyra says. “You were getting so bogged down in the particulars that you couldn’t think straight. Happened to me all the time, when I was on the force. I’ll bet your mind feels clearer now, doesn’t it?”
Jyn blinks at her mother in disbelief. “Were you actually being helpful just now?” She asks.
“Believe it or not, I’m usually trying to help you, Jyn. Even when you think I’m not.”
Jyn looks at her mother for a long moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, she slaps her palm on the table and turns to Bodhi. “I need you to bring me to the police station,” she says, urgently.
“Did you figure it out?” He asks.
“No, but I’m going to. I just need to look at the case file again.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I know a guy,” Jyn says vaguely.
“Alright. Do you want to go home and change first?” Bodhi asks, gesturing at her still-muddy clothing.
“What? No! Honestly, I think I might be onto something. This is a Look, right here,” Jyn says, standing up.
“If you say so,” Bodhi says, as she starts pulling him towards the door.
They don’t make it far, however, before Jyn stops suddenly. She turns halfway back to her mother, looking completely lost. A moment of deliberation passes before Jyn says, “Thanks, Mom.”
Lyra looks up at her daughter and surprise flashes across her face, briefly. She raises her beer in salute and Jyn smiles.
“To the blueberry!” She shouts at Bodhi, and links their arms together.
“We’re not calling it that,” he says, only to be ignored. “Jyn, I’m serious!”
Jyn pushes the door open and drags him out into the night, still paying his complaints no mind.
***
“Sorry, I’m still not clear on why he’d be willing to help us,” Bodhi says, keeping his voice low so as not to attract any further notice from the other cops at the precinct.
“Quid pro quo,” Jyn says, kicking her feet up on the desk in front of her. “I helped him, he’ll help me.”
“He said that?”
“His eyes did.”
“What did his mouth say?” Bodhi asks, suppressing an eye roll.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t listening. I was too busy staring longingly into his eyes.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head. “How exactly did you help him?”
“I solved that stupid armed robbery case for him,” Jyn says.
“You did?” Bodhi asks. “That’s amazing. Doesn’t that mean they can’t arrest you for it now?”
“They can’t arrest me for that, but they can arrest me for obstruction still.”
“Damn. So who was the guy’s partner?”
“Ah, that’s the thing,” Jyn says, relishing her Poirot moment a little too much. “He didn’t have one.”
“What?”
“He made it up, to get the immunity deal. Created this whole shadowy figure who masterminded all the robberies to stall the police and he took a gamble that they’d believe him. It was complete bullshit.”
“How did you figure that out?” Bodhi asks, astonished.
“Miss Erso is extremely well-versed in the art of bullshit,” a voice says from behind him. He turns to see Detective Andor approaching them with a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Oh, Detective. I’ve asked you to call me Jyn, and I meant it,” Jyn says, her face lighting up with mischief.
“And I’ve never asked you for anything, so I don’t really understand what you’re doing here,” he shoots back. “And with your feet on my desk, no less!”
Jyn swings her feet off the desk and onto the floor in one graceful motion. “You need to lighten up, Detective, or you’re gonna go gray prematurely,” she says. “Then again, you’d look distinguished, so maybe it’s worth it.”
“What can I do for you, Miss Erso?” He asks, looking tired.
“Jyn. And I need to see the file for the McCallum case.”
“Can’t you see it with your third eye?”
“Would you look at that?” Jyn says to Bodhi, gesturing at Detective Andor. “He’s handsome and funny! If he has a good job, I’m putting a ring on it.”
Bodhi is about to roll his eyes at Jyn’s antics, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Detective Andor crack a smile. Maybe Jyn’s antics aren’t as unwelcome as he thought after all.
“As flattered as I am, how do you know I’m not spoken for?” Detective Andor asks.
“I saw it with my third eye,” Jyn says, and he laughs.
“Mm. Good one. No, really. Do your,” he gestures at her with his coffee mug, “psychic thing. On me.”
Jyn’s eyebrows shoot up at that and Bodhi can see her resisting the urge to turn the detective’s statement into a dirty joke. “I don’t have to,” she says, finally.
“Sorry?”
“I don’t have to ‘do my psychic thing’,” Jyn says, using air quotes. “Anyone with eyes could see that you're single.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. First of all, you’re a cop, just like my mother. It didn’t help her in the romance department, either,” Jyn says, like she’s letting him in on a secret. “You lot work all the time, hence the bags under your eyes and the fact that you’re here right now, on a Friday night.”
“I could be leaving,” he suggests.
“You have coffee. At 8 PM.”
“Could be decaf.”
“It isn’t,” Jyn says with certainty. “You’re about to pull an all nighter to work on a case. And then you’ll eventually go home to your lonely bachelor pad and eat a meal for one you picked up in the freezer section because you’re ‘too busy’ to cook for yourself. How am I doing?”
“You’re close,” Detective Andor says, trying to be evasive. “But I could have a spouse who’s okay with me working Friday nights.”
“You could,” Jyn allows. “But you also don’t wear a ring.”
“Maybe I just don’t wear it at work.”
“That’s a possibility. But I don’t think so.” Jyn pauses for a second, watching the detective. “Come on, how’d I do?”
“Devastatingly accurate,” Detective Andor concedes. “Except for one part.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m a really good cook,” he says, sitting on his desk in the spot recently vacated by Jyn’s feet. She smiles up at him, delighted, and Bodhi’s pretty sure if he doesn’t do something they could be here all night. He clears his throat awkwardly.
Both of them startle, like they’d forgotten about him entirely. Detective Andor takes a sip of his coffee and places the mug on the desk. “What do you need the file for?” He asks, not quite looking at Jyn.
“Sometimes I do get random visions,” Jyn lies with ease. “But most of the time, my gift requires inspiration. I’m hoping something in the file will trigger it.”
“That case is basically wrapped up, though. I heard it was a murder-suicide between the McCallum kid and the guy he hired to fake his kidnapping,” Detective Andor says.
“I’m not convinced,” Jyn says seriously.
“Hey, from what I hear, they wouldn’t have found that cabin without you,” Detective Andor says, adopting a soothing tone. “Your work here is done. Don’t overthink it.”
“I’m thinking it just the right amount, thank you,” she replies. Detective Andor looks as if he is about to say something else, so she adds, quickly, “You have two options here, as I see it. You can get me that file now, or you can spend the whole night talking in circles with me, finishing none of your own work, and then you can get me the file.”
“Sounds like I’m getting you the file either way.”
“It’s just a matter of whether you have your dignity intact when you do,” Jyn says, throwing in a shrug for good measure. “Choose your own adventure, Detective,”
Detective Andor makes a big show of looking around, and then stands up. “I’ll be right back,” he says, needlessly, and walks away.
Jyn and Bodhi watch him go in silence for a few seconds, before Bodhi asks, “What’s going on there?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re flirting with cops now?”
“I was not flirting with him,” Jyn says, scandalized.
“Jyn, please.”
“I wasn’t,” she says, and she actually stamps her foot, like a child. “I can’t stand cops, you know that.”
“Right. You can’t stand that guy. You can’t stand him so much you just spent ten minutes pestering him about his marital status,” Bodhi says, unimpressed.
“He asked me to!”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. He can’t stand you either. He can’t stand the idea of making you dinner in his tiny, sad apartment and he can’t stand the idea of having beautiful, hyper-observant children with you someday.”
“Bodhi,” Jyn says, slapping at him ineffectually. She’s laughing too hard to do so accurately.
“It’s one thing to seduce and abandon half the food service professionals in Santa Barbara, Jyn, but please don’t start sleeping with cops and never calling them again. My heart can’t take it,” Bodhi says, only half joking.
“I’m not gonna sleep with him,” Jyn replies, looking offended.
“Uh huh.”
“I’m not! Jesus!”
“You, Jyn Erso, are a bisexual menace to society,” he says gravely.
“I’m a bisexual philanthropist, thank you very much, and you, Bodhi Rook, can suck it,” she shoots back easily and lands a solid slap on his arm.
They’re still scuffling like that when Detective Andor returns and drops a file on the desk in front of Jyn. Her face lights up and she tears into the folder with enthusiasm. In addition to Jyn’s many other gifts, she’s also a very fast reader, so she makes short work of scanning through the entire file on the McCallum case. She flops back in the chair once she’s done with the last page, and Bodhi is pretty sure that’s not a good sign.
“Nothing?” He asks.
“Nothing,” Jyn confirms. She rubs her eyes. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for. It’s just that...something doesn’t feel right.”
“How so?” Detective Andor asks.
“It’s just a vibe I have.”
“This is some sort of psychic thing? Vibes?”
“You don’t get vibes? I thought everybody got those,” Jyn says.
“I’ve always thought of it more as intuition,” Detective Andor says with a shrug. “It’s not really a spiritual thing.”
“Well, the spirits are telling me there’s more to this case than meets the eye.”
“Your spirits can’t be more specific?”
“Apparently not,” Jyn says, closing the case file with more force than is really necessary. She tosses it gently back to Detective Andor. “Thanks, anyway.”
“Look, if you don’t mind me saying so, this could all be in your head,” he says. When Jyn gives him an annoyed look, he continues, “Hear me out. This probably isn’t the way you saw this case shaking out. Maybe it’s not that you missed something, or that there’s some cosmic imbalance afoot. Maybe you’re just disappointed. But that’s the work. You’ll have to get used to it if you want to keep doing this.”
“Keep doing what?”
“Consulting. You lead us right to the bodies. It might not be the way anyone wanted the case to end up, but you helped solve it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Interim Chief Mothma wanted to use you again.”
Jyn shakes her head. “You know what I still can’t wrap my head around?” She asks, rather than address what Detective Andor has said.
“How to accept a compliment?” Detective Andor suggests.
“Technically, everything you just said was a fact. None of it was actual praise,” Jyn says. Detective Andor gives her a half-smile and motions for her to continue. “What I don’t understand is why everyone thought this McCallum kid had finally turned his life around. From what I hear, this wasn’t his first try at it. He’d screwed it up before. And you even have a report in there of an incident between him and his father that got so heated the neighbors called the cops to intervene. Why was everyone in that family so surprised that this guy was still up to his old bullshit?”
“People can change,” Detective Andor says simply.
“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?” Jyn asks. When he just shrugs in response, she says, “But you’re a cop!”
“And I wouldn’t be one if I didn’t think this work could make a difference in someone’s life,” he says. “The McCallums didn’t think their son had changed. They hoped he had.”
“Lot of good that did them.”
“Better than the alternative, right? I’d rather hope for the best, than anticipate the worst all the time.”
“That’s a terrible way for a cop to think!”
“I didn’t say that’s the way I actually think,” he says. “Just that it’s how I would rather think.”
“You’re full of shit,” Jyn says, but she looks amused. Fond, even.
“See if I ever help you again,” Detective Andor says, gesturing at her with the case file. “I’m going to put this back before someone misses it,” he adds, and takes off, leaving Jyn and Bodhi alone again.
“That was a very tender moment between you two. I’m glad I got to be here for it,” Bodhi says, for lack of anything better to contribute.
Jyn snorts. “Shut up,” she says, but the expression on her face says her thoughts are still far off.
“Did it help?” Bodhi asks, nudging her with his foot.
“What?” Jyn says, turning her attention to him.
“Anything Detective Andor just said.”
“Oh, no.” Jyn responds, then winces. “I mean, it’s not bad advice, but I just can’t get over this feeling that I’m missing something. I just don’t believe it, you know? That this rich kid botched his own kidnapping so badly that his dirtbag partner turned on him, killed him, and then killed himself because he couldn’t live with the guilt. Oh, and speaking of guilt, this kid’s strict father felt so badly about his son’s disappearance that he apparently tried to kill himself too? Even though he tried to write his son out of his will for being a fuck up? Like, none of it adds up. It doesn’t feel right at all.”
“Wait, what happened with his father?”
“He had this will drawn up—”
“No, you told me about that. You didn’t mention his suicide attempt.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know that for sure,” Jyn says. “When I visited the McCallum house, Mr. McCallum had a bandage on his wrist and he got antsy when I asked him about it. But I overheard some of the help talking and they were saying he tried to kill himself after his son disappeared.”
“So that’s all speculation,” Bodhi says.
“Well, yeah.”
“But you don’t believe it?”
“I mean, it could be anything, really. I tried to look through their medicine cabinets to see if I saw anything that would suggest what kind of injury it was, but it was mostly generic stuff, like ibuprofen and allergy medicine. The only name I didn’t recognize was Zin...Zinfandel?”
“That’s a wine, Jyn.”
“Damn it. Uh, Zin… zinacef? Is that something?”
“Yeah. Zinacef is a brand name for cefuroxime. It’s an antibiotic.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, for people who are allergic to penicillin.”
“And why would they prescribe it?”
“Like most antibiotics, to treat an infection,” Bodhi says. “And if he had an injury to his wrist, it’s probably because the doctor was worried that the source of the cut could have infected him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, if he cut himself on, I don’t know, a rusted nail or something. Although you’d be more worried about Tetanus in that situation. Maybe an animal bite? Like a cat or a—”
“A dog?” Jyn suggests, interrupting him. Her eyes are wide and she’s leaning forward in her seat.
“Sure,” Bodhi says, shrugging. “Why? Does that mean something?”
“Yeah, it does! McCallum Jr.’s friend who helped him fake the kidnapping had a dog. I saw it at the cabin. It all makes sense now!” Jyn practically shouts.
“It does?”
“Yes! Bodhi, you’re a genius!” She says, grabbing his face in both her hands.
“I am?” Bodhi says.
“Yes, you are!”
“That’s nice. But please don’t kiss me. Your cop boyfriend is coming back and I don’t want him to tase me in a jealous rage.”
Jyn lets him go. “I wasn’t going to kiss you, and Detective Andor is definitely not going to tase you,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“I notice you didn’t deny that he was your boyfriend, though.”
“You’re a child!”
“Takes one to know one!” Bodhi shoots back. Jyn reaches out as if to slap him, but he quickly says, “Look alive, he’s on his way over.”
“Shit, I gotta make up a vision,” Jyn says. “This fake psychic thing is way harder than it looks on TV.”
“Yeah, we all feel real sorry for you.”
Jyn glares at him in response as she raises her hand to her forehead in what’s becoming her default faking-a-vision pose. “Help me out,” she says, under her breath, as Detective Andor reappears.
“Oh, Detective Andor, thank goodness you’re back,” Bodhi says, hoping he sounds genuine. He’s doesn’t consider himself to be the world’s best liar. “I think she’s having a vision.”
Detective Andor, for his part, still looks utterly bewildered by the whole thing, so it’s Jyn who actually has to speak up. “I’ve seen our killer,” she says, completely serious.
“You’ve seen their face?” Detective Andor asks.
“No, their wrist,” Jyn replies.
“Their wrist? What good does that do us?”
“I can see it so clearly now,” Jyn says, covering her forehead with her hands. “They found McCallum in his cabin hideout. They figured out the kidnapping was staged before we did and they went to confront him about it. There was a scuffle, between McCallum and our killer. It was an accident, they didn’t mean to kill him, it just happened!”
As Jyn speaks, she keeps her eyes closed, as if she’s actually watching this all happen behind her eyelids. Bodhi can’t help but be impressed. She’s very convincing. For all the trouble it’s caused them, maybe this fake psychic thing is truly her calling. It’s such a ridiculous idea that he’s honestly surprised it didn’t occur to her sooner.
“After McCallum died, his partner came back to the cabin with his dog to find the killer still there. Our killer shoots him and stages it to look like a suicide, effectively pinning McCallum’s death on him instead, but not before the dog bites them and gets a piece of their wrist.” Jyn suddenly opens her eyes and sits back, her face clear of the anguish of her “vision”. She looks at Detective Andor and asks, “Do you know anyone with a mysterious wrist injury?”
Detective Andor blinks at her in disbelief for a few seconds before realization dawns. Then, he quickly reaches for his keys on the desk. “We have to get to the McCallum residence. I’ll call for backup on the way,” he says, and he’s already heading for the exit.
“Are we supposed to follow you?” Jyn shouts after him.
“Yes, let’s go.”
“Alright,” Jyn says, standing up and smacking Bodhi on the knee. “You heard the man. Let’s go catch a murderer.”
“Today has been the weirdest day of my life,” Bodhi says, shaking his head but following after Jyn anyway.
“And it’s not even over yet,” Jyn says with excitement. She loops their arms together once more as they leave the precinct.
***
There’s a light drizzle falling from the sky as Bodhi stands on the front yard of the McCallum residence. Just like Jyn said at the beginning of the case, the house is beautiful and large and absolutely full to the brim with great art and other things that Bodhi would normally nerd out about. Standing there, though, on a rainy Friday night, surrounded by cop cars whose lights are making the whole place glow red and then blue on a constant loop, Bodhi can’t honestly enjoy himself too much.
Mr. McCallum Sr. had been put into a car by an astonished looking Detective Tuesso nearly twenty minutes ago, after admitting to killing his son and his accomplice. The rest of the cops on the scene are still inside taking statements from the other people in the house and getting other relevant details so that they can finally close the case. The atmosphere in there became too much for Bodhi eventually and he excused himself to wait for Jyn outside.
When she finally finds him, he’s looking up at the sky for no particular reason other than the flashing lights from the cars are starting to hurt his eyes.
“You look very emo,” Jyn says, taking in his pose as she approaches.
“You just solved a murder,” Bodhi replies.
“Yeah,” she says, with no small amount of pride in her voice.
“That guy killed his own son.”
“Yeah,” Jyn says, this time sounding somber.
“That’s…” Bodhi starts to say, but he can’t really find the words. “That’s a lot,” he finally settles on, even though it’s nonsense. Jyn will understand, he thinks.
She, of course, nods in response, before also looking up at the sky. “It is. A whole fucking lot,” she says, and he’s glad she gets it.
They stand there in silence for a moment, just listening to the rainfall and the buzz of activity coming from the house behind them. It feels like the first time in hours he’s actually relaxed, ever since he got that call from Jyn this afternoon. He can’t even imagine how she feels.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Jyn says, suddenly. Bodhi looks over at her only to find her already looking at him.
“Yeah, you could’ve,” he says.
Jyn shakes her head. “No. You saved the day.”
“We’re a good team,” Bodhi responds, trying to deflect her praise.
“That we are,” she agrees. “But I’ve always known that.”
“Yeah, no surprise there.”
At that moment, another police car pulls up and a few people get out. One of them, a woman, spots Jyn and walks in her direction.
“Miss Erso,” the woman calls as she approaches.
“Interim Chief Mothma,” Jyn greets her in return. “Good to see you again.”
“I believe we have you to thank for solving this case,” the Chief says.
“Oh, well, I suppose,” Jyn says. “But I had lots of help.”
Interim Chief Mothma’s eyebrows raise in surprise at that. “You did?” She asks.
“From the spirits, of course,” Jyn says, gesturing vaguely upwards.
“Of course,” the Chief echoes. “Well, thank you for your assistance,” she says, offering her hand to Jyn.
“Happy to help,” Jyn replies, shaking the other woman’s hand
“Oh, that reminds me,” Interim Chief Mothma says. “I spoke to your mother on the phone earlier.”
“You did?”
“Yes. As she’s a former member of the department, I wanted to get her take on your value as a consultant and ask her about your abilities. I have to say, you two need to get your stories straight.”
“We do?” Jyn says, and Bodhi can hear the nervousness in her voice. As for himself, he’s pretty sure he’s having a heart attack.
“Yes, you do. Your mother says that your gift didn’t present itself until you were eleven, but when you and I spoke the other day, you said you’d had your psychic abilities since birth,” the Chief says.
“That’s my mother for you,” Jyn says, easily, even though Bodhi can still see the tension in her shoulders. “She always has to undermine me! Just because she didn’t notice my abilities before I was eleven, doesn’t mean I didn’t have them. I’ve told her this a thousand times!”
“Well, I appreciated her insight,” Interim Chief Mothma says. “And I appreciate your work on this case.”
“Thank you, but I couldn’t have done it without Bodhi,” Jyn says, gesturing at him. “My chauffeur,” Jyn elaborates, for the Chief’s benefit.
“Ah, of course,” she says, looking bemused. She shakes Bodhi’s hand anyway, which gives him something to do besides elbow Jyn in the ribs. “Thank you both.”
One of the officers calls for her then, and Interim Chief Mothma leaves them with a wave. Jyn and Bodhi look after her for a few seconds before Jyn says, “That was close.”
Bodhi lets out a breath of relief. “No kidding,” he says. “I cannot take anymore stress today. I just can’t.”
“Okay, buddy. Let’s get you home,” Jyn says, patting his shoulder.
“We can leave?”
“Yeah, whenever we want. The cops are done with me for now.”
“Awesome,” Bodhi says, before he remembers the problem. “But my car is still at the precinct.”
“Oh, yeah. Cassian said he’d bring us back when we were ready.”
“Who?”
“Detective Andor.”
“You called him ‘Cassian.’”
“Did you think his first name was Detective?” Jyn asks, rolling her eyes at him.
“You’re on a first name basis with him now?” Bodhi asks, unable to help himself.
“Relax. It’s no big deal,” Jyn says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can call him that too.”
“I should hope so. He’s going to be my best friend-in-law someday.”
“I hate you,” Jyn says, but she’s smiling a little. “I’m going to go find Cassian and ask him to take me back to the precinct. And I’m gonna leave you here. You can walk home, for all I care.”
“If you want some alone time with your boyfriend, all you have to do is ask,” Bodhi replies. Jyn flips him off, which is all the encouragement he needs. “You two, alone in a police cruiser. Very romantic.”
“Don’t give me ideas, Bodhi Rook,” she says, and then she turns on her heel and heads back towards the house.
Smiling to himself, Bodhi follows her.
***
Unsurprisingly, Bodhi doesn’t hear from Jyn for a few days after the McCallum case wraps up. He assumes she’s catching up on all the sleep she missed while she was working the case, an old habit of hers he remembers from when they were in high school. She would always wait until the last minute on projects, pull all-nighters to finish them, and then sleep for days afterwards. For all solving murders and writing research papers are completely different, Bodhi thinks that Jyn’s method of recovering is probably the same for both.
Given the amount of emotional upheaval she went through, Bodhi actually figures it will take longer for Jyn to recover after this, but it’s only Monday when he receives a text from her asking him to meet her that afternoon when he’s done at work.
Sure. At your place? He replies immediately.
No. I’ll text you the address. Her reply comes twenty minutes later.
Why are we meeting at a mystery location?
I have something I need to show you!
You’re making me nervous…
You’re always nervous. See you at 4:30.
Jyn actually remembers to text him the address about ten minutes before he’s planning on leaving the office, and the map on his phone shows that it’s right by the water, but there’s no businesses listed there. Whatever Jyn is trying to do, it’s going to be a surprise, despite Bodhi’s best efforts. He sighs, before gathering his things and heading out for the night.
It’s a short ride from his office to the address Jyn sent him and he finds himself pulling into the small parking lot of a tiny, one story office building that faces the beach. He recognizes the only other vehicle in the lot as Jyn’s motorcycle, so this must be the place. There’s a wide window on the front of the only office housed in the building and, when Bodhi gets out of his car, he sees that there’s a sign painted on the glass that reads, “PSYCH” in big letters and, underneath that in a smaller script, it says, “private psychic detective.”
“Oh, no,” he says to himself, before pulling open the door.
“Bodhi,” Jyn greets him cheerfully when he enters the room.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Depends on who you ask,” she says. “Why? What did I do?”
“You rented office space, for your psychic detective agency! Which is a career you’ve had for less than a week! And, by the way, you’re not actually psychic!”
“Oh, that,” she says, waving a hand at him, as though his are petty concerns.
“You’re not actually naming it that, are you?” Bodhi asks.
“No, Bodhi. I just paid them to hand paint it on the window because I’m a patron of the arts with money to burn.”
“You can’t call it that,” Bodhi says, ignoring Jyn’s joke and changing tactics.
“Why not?
“Psych?” He says, hoping hearing it aloud will make her understand. When she just looks at him blankly, he adds, “As in ‘Gotcha!’”
“No. Psych, as in psychic,” Jyn says, throwing in some jazz hands for good measure.
“It doesn’t read that way.”
“Oh, whatever.”
“Actually, I have a great idea,” Bodhi says, rubbing his forehead. “What if you called it, ‘Hey, We’re Fooling You and the Police, Hope We Don’t Make a Mistake and Someone Dies Because of It.’”
“As catchy as that is, I think that would take up too much space on the window,” Jyn says seriously. “It would interrupt our ocean view and you have no idea how much that cost me.”
“Speaking of which, how did you even get this place? I know your credit score is terrible.”
“True. But yours isn’t.”
“Mine?” Bodhi asks. “What does my credit score have to do with it?”
“You co-signed the lease with me.”
“Funny, I don’t remember doing that.”
“Well, you’re a busy man. I didn’t want to bug you with the trivial details, so I signed for you,” Jyn says innocently.
“Jyn!”
“It’s not my fault that your signature is easy to forge!”
“That’s not even remotely the problem here,” Bodhi says, his annoyance clear in his voice. “What real estate agent would allow this?”
“A really terrible one.”
Bodhi groans and covers his face with his hands. Jyn crosses the room to pat him consolingly on the shoulder.
“Hey, lighten up. This is gonna be fun! You and me, solving crimes together,” she says.
That’s enough to pull Bodhi out of his despair and he gives Jyn a disbelieving look. “Jyn, what are you talking about? I already have a full-time job,” he says.
“Oh, believe me, I know. You’re always talking about it, with your steady paycheck and your dental plan and your 411K,” Jyn says bitterly.
“It’s a four-OH-one-K, Jyn.”
“I’ve heard it both ways.”
“I’m not leaving my job,” Bodhi says firmly and he sees Jyn’s face fall. “But, I can help you with cases in my spare time, if you’d like.”
“I would like,” Jyn says, smiling. “I would like very much.”
“Good. Partners?” He says, offering his fist for her to bump, which she does.
“Partners. Of course,” Jyn says, and the two of them enjoy approximately thirty seconds of peace before a noise outside catches Jyn’s attention.
“Okay, look alive,” she says, smoothing out her shirt. “Our 5 o’clock is here.”
“What?!” Bodhi asks, shocked. “You have a client already?”
“We gotta keep the lights on somehow,” Jyn replies.
“The Jyn I know has never paid an electricity bill on time in her life,” he says, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Well, maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” Jyn says with a small smile, which Bodhi returns easily. If she’s really serious about this, he’s not going to stand in her way.
“I’m proud of you,” he says, pointing a finger at her emphatically.
She points back at him. “Thank you.”
At that moment, a young woman comes through the door, looking around cautiously. “Is this the psychic detective agency?” She asks.
“Yes, it is,” Jyn says. “And I’m the psychic detective, Jyn Erso.”
“Wow,” the young woman says, completely dazzled. She looks at Bodhi then, clearly confused as to his role.
Jyn, for her part, doesn’t miss a beat. “Allow me to introduce my associate, Burton Guster.”
Bodhi doesn’t bother correcting her, giving a small wave instead. This is his life now, after all.
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so here’s a quick belated (and completely un-beta-ed) birthday thing for my sunshine // with a bunch of our hc thrown in @wesawbears & @faintlyglow
There are a number of traditions that have been developed over the years for Trojan birthdays and Jeremy Knox’s is no different, he is in fact instrumental in their existence.
Due to its timing he is very rarely able to make it home to his family for the actual day but the team make sure to fill in and make their sunshine leader feel the love.
The first year Alvarez baked him the cake it did not go well, they were both still very much baby freshmen but in hindsight it really was what cemented their life long friendship.
Jeremy had not been looking forward to getting up on what he expected to be just another day with the slight tarnish of homesickness ever more acutely felt due to the fact that it would be the first birthday where he didn’t wake up to his mothers breakfast and a table full of happy siblings. The numerous voicemail messages and texts awaiting him from them all unfortunately only making him feel worse as he prepped his morning coffee.
What he hadn’t expected was to be greeted by the one and only Sara Alvarez crashing through his door. She was already in full swing with a raucous rendition of Cumpleaños Feliz! as she swung the huge cake in her hands onto his little dorm table. It was, to put it nicely, a work of modern art, he wasn’t sure what shape it had originally been but it hardly mattered, as soon as the initial shock dissipated the overwhelming realisation of what she had done washed over him. There was nothing in the world that could have stopped his tears as he dove at her wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing the breath out of her as she reached the end of the song.
Without them even talking about it more than Jeremy telling her in passing how big a deal birthdays were in his family she had taken it upon herself to shower him in love the whole day even getting a large amount of their fellow freshmen on the team involved in the celebrations after practice. Her cake fed them both for the following two days, and while it wasn’t a scratch on his mothers cooking Jeremy would swear on oath that it was the best thing he had eaten since starting at USC.
Of course he repaid Alvarez twice over when her birthday came around.
Their second year was much the same, just with a little more preparation on both sides and Alvarez successfully dragging all the new freshmen in to the party they put together for it. Jeremy didn’t mind in the slightest that it was only maybe 45% about throwing him a big party and more about Sara’s ginormous puppy crush on the teams new goalie. And he really couldn’t mind when the two of them called him over with huge proud smiles and brought out possibly the most elaborately decorated sun shaped cake he could ever imagine.
The skype call he had with his family that evening was loud and busy and perfectly wonderfully normal and he went to bed grinning wide and looking forward to the year ahead of them all.
Being Captain changed a lot of things for Jeremy, but not the important things, not his friendships or the way he felt increasingly like USC was his home away from home and the team his second family. The new intake of freshmen were instantly brought into the fold by their upperclassmen and they were introduced to the Trojan birthday mentality, to Jeremy’s surprise and no small amount of delight the seniors took it all the more seriously now that he had proved himself to them all.
He even overheard a couple of them explaining to the newbies after practice on the 8th “We gotta show the cap a good time so he won’t work us too hard!”
October 10th of Jeremy’s third year saw the biggest of the team birthday parties since he had started. They all ended up on the beach, music loud, food plentiful, alcohol for those that wanted it and a sun-shaped cake twice the size as the year before.
It wasn’t that Jeremy didn’t miss his family, didn’t miss the way his birthdays had always been growing up, but this; this gathering of his friends, this team-wide celebration was really, if he was being honest, just as good in so many ways.
The celebration traditions only expanded from there. With Laila the duo had become a very strong and influential trio, able to make nearly anything happen. Birthdays on practice days had one set of traditions, birthdays on weekends or rest days another, and those that took place during their holidays had either early or belated celebrations with the team when they best fit the scheduled. Thankfully Alvarez and Laila took charge of this particular part of team organisation so that Jeremy could throw himself into proving that he really did deserve the faith his team had in him and that he could measure up as an even better captain for them for another year.
His birthday couldn’t come soon enough that year. everyone wanted a reason to blow off any residual party energy from the summer before Jeremy and Coach Rheman started their practice in earnest.
Over the last two years the Trojans Exy team parties had been gaining fame among the rest of the student body. Not that this was a problem in the slightest, the beach stretch they tended for was plenty large and while the team may be technically the ‘hosts’ nobody looked to them to manage the event. People came and went and the team members were able to exist at the heart of it for as long as they liked, or remove themselves back to the designated exy dorms.
It suited Jeremy just fine, it was just the kind of energy he had come to love, to thrive in.
Laila’s perfected cake recipe and Alvarez’s increasingly ridiculous birthday gifts were the cornerstones that held the whole day together perfectly for him.
Jean- Jean was a wildcard going into Jeremy final year, he was still all sharp edges, raw and violent and so very very angry in October, everything still too new and strange and hard to comprehend let alone accept for him. but that wasn’t going to stop the team, wasn’t going to stop Alvarez from ‘taking care of her boy’ as she had termed it on that first birthday together years before.
It just meant that a few concessions had to be made.
Jeremy was already more stressed out and tired than he normally was so early in the year, still feeling around the edges of what having Jean with them meant trying not to cut himself on all the potential problems.
When Al found him slumped over his desk after classes, head in his hands and seldom-used glasses pushed up into his hair she knew the normal party just wasn’t going to cut it this year. The team would understand, and nothing was stopping them from going out to the beach they just might be minus 1 birthday boy. Jeremy just needed his partners in crime tonight.
Jeremy made no sign of recognition at Alvarez’s entrance into his room but after a pause he asked quietly “When do we need to leave fr the beach? What are we going to do about Jean? - shit where even is he? Sara, what am i going to do?”
He didn’t need to clarify that he was talking in a the longer run, asking about what he should do as captain, as potential, hopeful friend to Jean, if the other man continued to fight them they way he was. It wasn’t what he needed to be worrying over on the evening of his 23rd birthday. But here he was, ever the studious caring captain. Perhaps to a fault Sara worried sometimes.
“We have sugar in our room, and a very big cake that I’m not letting anyone else have some of till you’ve made yourself sick of cake from it.”
His head came up slow, “..sugar? sugar sounds good.”
Jeremy followed her down the two doors to her and Laila’s room without another word, he knew he must be a sorry sight but it was nothing she hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that when he stepped past her into the little sitting room area he was confronted by the scene of Jean Moreau sitting cross-legged on the floor with a sketch book out on their coffee table and Laila quietly talking to him about something or other. Neither of them looked up until he reached the back of the sofa but when they did Laila beamed at him leaping to her feet on the sofa cushions and leaning over it to wrap him in a hug so she could wish him a happy birthday. Jean watched the exchange indifferently before meeting Jeremy’s eyes over Laila’s shoulder and inclining his head in the smallest nod. Jeremy was quite frankly stunned.
“Is it time for cake!?” Laila asked excitedly, “we worked really hard on the decorations thing year! Jean even helped!”
Talking about being stunned, Jeremy wasn’t sure he could have possibly hard that right, but Laila was smiling at Jean encouragingly and Al was grinning from where she stood by the kitchenette.
“We thought since the beach party probably isn’t really Jeans scene just yet and you’re practically dead on your feet today we could just skip the big team affair and gorge ourselves on my beautiful girlfriends cake and chill out, sound okay Jere?”
It was like his first year all over again, like Sara had read his mind without even seeing him all day and was doing everything he didn’t know he needed to make it through the day. realising his voice would probably crack if he tried to speak just then Jeremy nodded numbly, managing to smile at Al before moving around the sofa and slumping heavily onto it.
Laila dropped back down next to him giving him another tight squeeze then turning back to Jean. Jeremy tried to follow their conversation, something about art theory or history or someone who did something revolutionary, he really wasn’t following it well at all. What he was doing was watching Jean nod along and answer softly or gesture slightly as he made a comment and every so often the slightest of smiles would grace his face and he would look down at his work or glance up and meet Laila’s eyes. It was the most amazing thing Jeremy thought he had seen all year.
When Al broke the quite by emerging around the breakfast island singing a much calmer rendition of Cumpleaños Feliz then normal and placed a tray down in the space on the coffee table Jeremy was bowled over yet again by the cake upon it. it was the same clip art sun shape as it had been for the last three years but instead of Laila’s usual delicate swirls and paisley icing patterns the center of the cake was adorned with a cluster of neatly iced sunflowers each one looking almost 3D with their detail and layering. Jeremy breath caught as he took it in, his eyes lifting to Laila’s face, the awe clear in his expression but she simply ginned and nodded to Jean in explanation.
Jeremy’s eyes widened and switched to focusing on Jean, his mouth falling open a little unable to form a response to this information. The other man met his gaze steadily for a moment before fixing on the cake between them.
“I just noticed how much you like them. That bunch on your desk- from your family,”
“Jean” Jeremy breathed “its amazing, thank you.”
It wasn’t like everything suddenly stopped being hard work, Jean was still a challenge on court and a minefield of sharp edges off, but as unexpected gifts go seeing the first real signs of progress from Jean was a hell of a good one, and far better than Jeremy could have asked for.
#jeremy knox#jean moreau#alvarez#laila dermott#lailalvarez#the sunshine trio#jerejean#exy: the trojans#jeremy knox fic#mine#tfc fanfic#my writing#signs of progress
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Holiday week
Again, I’m reporting a week’s worth of activity in one go, but in my defence I’ve been too busy enjoying myself to blog! I’ve been spending the week at my sister’s new place, where she has kindly put me up and put up with me:
Monday
The troops headed out to Ikea, with Hannah picking out some more furnishings; this time she drove her VW Polo, as opposed to the tank from our last trip. She picked out a number of items that we took home with us, and one that we arranged for delivery the next day. And I got to sample the Ikea meatballs that every man and his dog has been telling me are the dog’s...ahem. I thought they nice enough, but nothing special. The accompanying gravy was the star of the show, and I washed it down with some cheesecake and a ‘naked apple’ Kopparberg.
Tuesday
The building commenced - Hannah and I got the majority of her bathroom cabinet done before dad joined us, and we tackled the mahoosive sofabed; roughly three hours later, it was constructed, and it was a very fine swan sofabed indeed! There was time for us to get Hannah’s side drawer done too - this was much easier, due in part to its size, and partly because I had the exact same design in my bedroom way back when. Dad left in the evening, then sis and I ploughed through a couple of films on her Now TV thingamabob, first Tarzan, then Big Hero 6, the latter being new to both of us, and most enjoyable (whilst also providing us with another brother-sister moment for the foreseeable future)!
Wednesday
We went with Dad and Linda (and Linda’s Hannah) into London for a belated/early birthday surprise. Before the big reveal, we went to Swingers, for some indoor crazy golf! Hannah had been once before, and her recommendation was spot-on as usual. We played the ‘lighthouse’ course, and everybody seemed to enjoy it. We teed off on the first hole in the scorecard order, so I got to watch everyone else attempt it before I played (the fact that I was given the role as scorer is pure coincidence). Aussie Hannah tried a different approach, bouncing off two walls and in, so I naturally tried to replicate her excellent shot, and did so successfully! We weren’t being particularly competitive, but Dad was keen to challenge the rules whenever he thought it would benefit him (or disadvantage others), so we took great pleasure in pointing out when he’d hit a shot out of bounds (and thus received a penalty stroke). And after nine holes, only four strokes separated the five of us! I finished top, to my mild surprise, as I didn’t think I’d done enough. As the scorecard shows, it was in Dad’s very consistent hands, but two nightmarish holes at the end scuppered his challenge for silverware. After a quick podium photo, there was time for a delicious burger and chips, before heading to our main destination:
Sh!t-Faced Shakespeare! It quite literally that - one member of a six-person cast is legitimately drunk off their face, as they all try to act their way through a condensed version of one of Bill’s works. We had Much Ado About Nothing, which I actually studied at school, (GCSE I believe), and even watched a film adaption starring Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson - none of which was even slightly useful! Proceedings quickly became hilariously farcical, with the drunken Hero causing mayhem, using strong language, and making some her co-stars very uncomfortable, whilst being encouraged to continue drinking throughout the performance.
Thursday
Back to building stuff for Hannah - we started on flipping the doors on her fridge so they’d open the other way, as a nice, gentle starter. However, a number of small hiccups later, and it was taking much longer than anticipated. Each piece was symmetrical, meaning the process was very simple to complete, until we found one piece that was not so. When placed on the other side, it stopped the fridge door opening properly, and Hannah said there were no other pieces provided, so I called up Hoover (who make fridges, go figure) to try and request one. Simon was very helpful, and stopped me almost immediately, saying he gets this call a lot, which I thought was encouraging and worrisome at the same time. He didn’t have a reference number for the required piece, so said he’d call back after further research. He did so, but had not had any luck, and explained that normally a kit is provided for this occurrence, and he would have to write to their head office in Italy to get this troublesome bit. It was at this point that Hannah looked up from the box she was searching through, suppressing a laugh, and I knew what had happened; I informed Simon that my plonker of a sister had just found said piece, and we’d wasted his time. Hannah collapsed in a fit of laughter, and both Simon and I couldn’t help laughing too. He was very helpful, and took the mix-up sportingly, so top marks in customer service there.
Hannah redeemed herself in her efforts hanging her cabinet in the bathroom, and then we ordered ourselves some Dominoes as a reward (sooo good). Dad left, and I watched ‘Secret Life of Pets’ with Hannah, which was fine (definitely a kids film).
Friday
Hannah and I had a nostalgia trip, as we went to Bucklebury Farm, to see the wee lil’ farmyard animals! We’d never been to BF before, but have fond memories of going to similar places in our childhood. We walked around with a bag of feed for them, and both got gummed to death by the residents, which included donkeys, llamas, goats, guinea pigs, sheep, pigs, cows, horses, and even a reindeer! There was a horse that must be related to Odell Beckham Jr, some very chillaxed piglets, and a unicorn in the same enclosure as the reindeer. Or maybe it was a one-horned goat, I can’t be sure. We saw out a brief rainstorm in the café with a burger apiece, which felt like baaad timing, to say the least. We came home, made a sheer mountain of cookies (Oreo, Crunchie, M&M, amd marshmallows featuring), and made some preparations for back-to-back housewarming parties this weekend - report to follow...
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Finally! Chapter 2 is up! Due partly to the awesome and gorgeous cover the extremely talented Nicole - @romanoffsbite - made for this fic and also because of the fact it was her birthday recently! Happy belated birthday, lovely lady. I wish you all of the good things (whiskey, cake etc).
Someone asked me which band I'm basing the Originals on and I would say Kings of Leon, probably more so because of the Lily Aldridge/Caleb Followill connection. Plus I do love the Kings of Leon so why not? Plus I might steal some of their songs in future (look out Sex on Fire)...
Beauty and the Beat
Part 2: It's Only Rock 'n' Roll
Miami, Florida - Present Day - December 2017
Klaus wasn't one to revisit the past, in fact he avoided it at all possible costs but here he was in Miami of all places and about to sing with his ex-girlfriend flaunting her delectable curves in skimpy underwear. His ex-girlfriend that could make anyone melt in her presence and he was no different. Not only for the fact that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen but also because of her adorable stubborness, quick wit, intelligence and frustrating ability to render him completely useless.
He was quick to refuse the offer to play the Victoria Secret Fashion Show all those months ago but he'd been outnumbered by his band mates, publicist and manager who all insisted it was too good an opportunity. Yes, the show was telecast to millions world-wide and it was the kind of publicity you couldn't buy but that didn't mean he wanted Caroline thrown back in his path and on such a public stage.
"Hello, Niklaus!" A voice interrupted. He focused his gaze on his annoying, younger brother in the reflection of the mirror. For some reason fans found that annoying smirk gorgeous but all Klaus wanted to do was wipe it off his face most of the time. Unfortunately Kol was an extremely talented drummer and he knew it. "We've got to get to make-up."
"Maybe you might need a touch up little Mikaelson but this face is perfect just the way it is," Enzo boasted, preening in front of the mirror next to Klaus.
"I'm surprised I can fit in this room with all these egos depriving me of oxygen," Lucien joked from the sofa, tuning his bass as he said it.
"Yours is bigger than ours combined," Kol shot back childishly.
"That's not what your sister was saying the other day," he offered, employing his usual tactic of teasing the Mikaelson brothers mercilessly by mentioning Freya.
"She was probably too starved of oxygen to bloody respond," Klaus commented tersley before standing up and taking one last look in the mirror. "Let's just get this over and done with." He strode purposefully from their dressing room without even a backwards glance, the silence from his bandmates enough to know he'd made his point and not to mess with him in a bad mood.
Prince Regent Hotel, Brixton, London - 5 years ago - October
"When are we going to get out of this shithole and start playing better venues," Kol whined. "Its been three months here already, Niklaus."
"When we finally get some professional interest," he replied, rolling his eyes in the process. Kol had always been too impatient for his own good and this situation was no different. If he could have a record deal today Klaus would but everyone in the industry knew that it took time and a lot of patience. He wouldn't admit it aloud but Klaus knew his was wearing very thin.
They'd been playing pubs around England and Europe for three years now and even though patrons apparently liked their music it didn't mean much in their hopes of being discovered. Klaus didn't know much else besides moving around questionable establishments and going through multiple rejections. But if anything it made him even more determined for fame and success. His dream was all he really had.
He'd grown up in Tottenham with his drunken father and three siblings in a tiny, two bedroom, housing trust home. He didn't have many happy memories from his childhood. They didn't celebrate birthdays or Christmas, mainly because their father drank all the money away and as soon as Klaus was old enough he left home, taking his younger brother with him on the playing circuit while Rebekah went to stay with Elijah off campus as he studied on scholarship at Cambridge. Klaus was thankful that at least one of the Mikaelsons would have a university degree.
"You didn't seem to be complaining when you were mauling that redhead last night," Enzo scoffed.
"You're just jealous that I get to have fun while you pathetically pine away for my sister over the Atlantic."
Rebekah had made a promising (and unexpected) career in public relations and was currently overseas with her latest client on a press tour. Although they hadn't acted on their simmering attraction it was obvious to all concerned that it wasn't just a passing phase. They fought like cat and dog but they all put that down to the fact that it was just foreplay before they finally gave into their feelings. The Mikaelson men were extremely protective of their sister but given Enzo was practically part of the family they preferred him as opposed to any other guys.
"For the last time..." Enzo argued before Lucien interrupted.
"It's about time you admitted it, mate. I've only been around for two years and even I know about your pathetic crush."
The brothers had known Enzo since they were teenagers but their bass player had only come onto the scene recently after an expletive riddled tirade about their performance in a little bar in Manchester. Granted he was drunk when he said it but after giving him an impromptu audition, Lucien had proven without a doubt that he was a much needed addition to their band.
Before Enzo could interrupt Kol spoke excitedly. He was peering through a crack in the curtains and looking at that night's audience. "What the hell?"
"Stop spying on the audience, they generally don't like that sort of thing," Klaus growled.
"It's kind of difficult when they are models, Niklaus."
"Models? Really Kol?" Lucien asked surprisingly. “In this dodgy establishment in Brixton?”
"Haven't you seen the latest Cosmopolitan?"
"I don't generally go around reading women's magazines, little brother," Klaus replied, dryly.
"Well, maybe you should," he quipped. "We don't just have one cover model here tonight but two."
"Whatever," Klaus said gruffly. He wasn't one to turn down a pretty face but from what he knew models weren't really his type. Kol on the other hand was a different story. "Let's just do this." They walked on stage, given the lighting it was difficult to see the audience but Klaus kind of liked it that way. He would never admit it but he was a little self conscious about what people thought even though he knew just how good they were.
He lost himself in the music, something he did every night as he sang. It was the only time that Klaus actually felt comfortable. He noticed a figure swaying in the crowd making him peer closer. There was no doubting she was stunningly beautiful in a pair of light, denim jeans and fitted black, Rolling Stone's t-shirt and long, golden waves cascading over her shoulders. After the first few songs he did an impromptu speech insisting they raise the house lights. As he spoke about the importance of rock 'n' roll his eyes found the mystery blonde. Although on further inspection Klaus knew he'd seen her before. He wracked his mind trying to work out why she was so familiar. Then it came to him.
"In celebration of the upcoming visit of President Obama, I thought this next song might be fitting." His brother, Enzo and Lucien regarded him curiously before catching on and playing the opening strains. The blonde looked up at him from the crowd, her eyebrows cocked. "I remember singing this one night in a hostel in Dubrovnik. We'd been loudly singing about saving our Queen when someone complained about the noise and probably rightfully so. She was American and I thought the only way to appease her was to play this instead. Let's just say I never received another complaint then so I figure it's a safe choice tonight."
As he sang the Star Spangled Banner again, Klaus was becoming increasingly impatient because all he wanted to do was speak with the woman he'd been thinking about the past two years. When she'd complained about their singing he'd reacted cheekily but upon waking the next morning Klaus had gone to the reception desk asking after her only to find out she'd already checked out three hours earlier. They wouldn't tell him her name and Klaus had always wondered just who she was, until now.
Their set eventually finished and he found himself stepping off stage and walking towards her suddenly a little nervous which was so unlike Klaus. Before he could speak, Kol interrupted, placing himself between them and the two girls.
"Ladies, so wonderful to have you here tonight," he smiled, his gaze focused on the dark skinned, brunette beside her. It was obvious to Klaus her friend wasn't overly impressed by his interruption.
"You remembered," she said, more like a statement than a question.
"When someone yells at you, it's kind of hard to forget, love," he chuckled. "So, what did you think of the show?" She faltered slightly, Klaus was trying not to lose himself in those penetrating blue eyes as he waited for her response. If he was being honest her opinion meant a lot more than it should.
"Well, you know, 'it's only rock 'n' roll' right?" She shrugged her shoulders indifferently.
"Given that Rolling Stones t-shirt you're wearing, I'm figuring the rest of that sentence goes..'but I like it' right?" He quoted.
"Well, that's your interpretation," she shot back, her gaze never faltering. It was just how he remembered her from all those years ago and Klaus still couldn't get enough. "I'm still getting over that sleep deprived night in Croatia."
"Actually, we need to get going," her brunette friend interrupted. "Early morning photo shoot, so this is goodnight guys."
"Oh come on darling, stay a little bit longer," Kol pleaded to her friend. Klaus wanted to beg too but he had too much pride to do that even if he was extremely interested in the mystery blonde, model or not. She sent him a small smile before sauntering away, Klaus trying to ignore the rythmic sway of her hips as she did.
TBC: Coachella, CA
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