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airi-p4 · 3 years

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Miraculous escape - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Thank you @alittleshycat for the header and wanted posters pic! 💙 Thank you @brickercupmasterx3 for proofreading! 💙

I’ve been into comedy lately for some reason... This chapter has been finished for a while, but I’ve been writing more of this story. It’s fun to write because they’re all stupid XD

A/N: Remember this story is Lukanette + Adrigami endgame.

Chapter summary:

The fugitive and disguised men arrive to Milan and set in their Hotel rooms and Rose holds a girls' pajama party.

AO3

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Chapter 2: Arrival to Milan

The train arrived at Milan later than scheduled. Not that it surprised any of them - except probably Adrien who always rode bullet trains instead of cheap ones. Delays were part of the public transportation's everyday life (at least in Southern Europe).

It took them eight hours to reach the Italian city, and Adrien and Luka had mostly spent the time either sleeping (from exhaustion of the day before) or daydreaming about the girls that caught their attention. Juleka glared at them more than a few times too, reminding them to focus on their acting, but they pretended not to notice. She seemed to be having a good time with the short haired blond lady seated next to her, anyway.

During the ride, Madam Mendeleiev also assigned their hotel rooms: two members per room, sharing it with the person beside them during the train ride. That meant Luka and Adrien were assigned the same room, and Juleka and Rose and Marinette and Kagami would share theirs too. The men were relieved with the assignments- at least they could drop their acting during the night.

After arriving at the hotel, and leaving their suitcases at their respective rooms (courtesy of XY, who didn’t miss his chance to flirt again with ‘Lucia’- ew ), the band members reunited again to have dinner. Too bad for them, they didn’t get to share a table with Marientte or Kagami, but shared it with Juleka and Rose.

“Hey!” Rose called for their attention. “Why don’t we have a girls' pajama party here later, when Madam Mendeleiev is asleep?” she suggested.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea-” Luka started, but was blunty cut by Adrien.

“Oh, yes! A party! Yay! Let’s do it! It will be soooo much fun!” Adrien exclaimed happily, amicably joining the palm of his hands with the grinning Rose's.

“Yay! I’m going to tell the others!” Rose said, running to the other areas in little hops.

Juleka and Luka could only facepalm at Adrien’s reaction. It was probably his first ‘pajama party’, of course he would be excited. ‘Just be careful’, Juleka warned them, giving up at Adrien’s puppy eyes.

A few hours later, after assuring Madam Mendeleiev was pleasantly asleep, the boys changed into old fashioned nightgowns and moved to the Hotel’s bar, where almost all the ladies were already chatting and drinking together. Luka was disappointed to see how Marinette wasn’t there, and he soon left the party. On the other hand, Adrien was completely enjoying himself with the ladies. Chatting, laughing, singing, playing cards, fortune reading… The rich boy had never had so much fun in his life. Kagami had left early, but Adrien had made sure to stare at her as much as he could before his eyes couldn't follow her anymore.

Meanwhile, sick of his acting, Luka moved to a closed common room nearby. Dark and cold as it was, he didn't expect to find Marinette sleeping in one of the coaches, next to an incandescent lamp.

“Hey, are you ok?” He asked, shaking her a little. Marinette’s eyes opened all of a sudden, almost giving Luka a heart attack.

“Oh! Sorry!” She apologized. “Where am I?”

“You fell asleep in the common room. Can you walk...?” Luka asked her. She stunk of alcohol- lots of alcohol. Marinette nodded but almost fell down on her knees as soon as her feet hit the floor. Luka sighed. “Where's your room? I'll take you there”

“206” she answered, and Luka lifted her body to carry her in princess style. She was very light and he was probably enjoying her in his arms more than he should.

“Wow! You're so strong for a girl!” she said, in fascination, between hiccups.

Luka froze. *Shit* ‘ She’ll find out I'm actually a man at this rate! Think Luka, think! I need an excuse! ‘“It comes with carrying a guitar everywhere” he answered nervously.

But Marinette wasn’t really thinking. “That's amazing!” A short pause followed. “Wait! Put me down!” she demanded, and Luka obeyed, seating her on the coach again. “Let's have some girl talk before going to sleep!" she grinned.

Marinette's begging eyes were too much for his enamored heart and his body automatically answered. "Okay"

"Yaaay" she said loudly in a celebrating tone, between hiccups.

Luka gulped. She looked absolutely defenseless and beautiful in her pajamas. If he hadn't already fallen for her, he would have again at that moment. His long fingers threatened to betray him any moment, longing to feel her perfect skin under his touch. He bit his tongue trying to suppress his predator instincts and act like the woman Juleka expected him to be.

"Won't Madam Mendeleiev get angry if she finds us?" Luka asked, looking for an excuse to leave.

"She won't!" She assured, pouring more alcohol into her cup and taking a sip. "We'll just turn off the lights and hide, and that would do. Here." She offered him a glass. "Have a drink with me"

"Thank you. I could never say no to a drink" 'Let's hope it distracts me enough from my ‘naughty’ thoughts...'

"You know?" Marinette started, stopped by another hiccup. Luka carefully listened to her dreamy voice. "I thought you were a man at first…"

Luka choked on his drink. 'Oh, no. We've just arrived! Have I been found out so easily? I can't let her find out yet! We need to escape and-'

"Hahaha- really? No way. See? Breasts" he quickly answered, lifting his fake breasts awkwardly.

"I knooow. I'm just joking" she giggled, making Luka sigh in relief. "I haven’t introduced myself, have I? My name is-"

"Ma-Ma-Marinette, right?" Luka giggled, but stopped immediately after noticing her hurt expression. "Sorry, I didn't want to make you feel bad"

"No, it's ok. It's my fault for being so clumsy…" tears had started to form in her eyes and Luka felt his own heart hurt in regret.

"No, no! I should have been more sensitive. Sorry." He sincerely apologized.

"Thank you ugh- sorry. I don't think I caught your name…"

"Lucia" 'God I hate this name'

"Lucia. Pretty name. Are you from Spain? Or Southern France?" Marinette asked, curious.

"Yes, I'm from the Basque region" he lied to add credibility to his act.

"That explains your strength!"

"That's just a stereotype, Marinette… but who knows? Maybe I should try tearing a trunk in half with my bare hands sometime" Luka joked and Marinette laughed.

"You're so funny!" Her laugh sounded like the most beautiful melody in his ears, inspiring him to compose hundreds of songs. "Want more?" She offered him her bottle of alcohol.

"if you insist..."

Marinette opened the bottle to fill Luka's glass, but her trembling hands made her spill the alcohol on Luka's lap, surprising him.

"Oh, sorry! Your sleeping dress…" She lamented.

"It's fine. I'll ask for the hotel’s laundry service to clean it tomorrow and it will be fine" he smiled. 'how could anyone get angry at those beautiful regretful pure eyes? Impossible'

"What are these voices! Is anyone here!?" Madam Mendeleiev shouted from the aisle.

"Oh no! Hit the lights and hide! Here!"

Marinette pulled Luka's body strongly to hide him behind the coach, hugging him. During the minute they spent in that position, Luka forgot how to breathe, in awe of her softness and unexpected precise reflexes.

Madam Mendeleiev later moved toward the room where the girls’ party was taking place, and Luka could only feel sorry for Adrien. ‘ Good luck, my friend’ . But actually, he was more worried about himself, since the chest of the woman he liked was pressed on his face.

"Ufff… she's gone. Sorry!" Marinette stood up, offering her hand to Luka.

"No, it's fine…" he recomposed himself, shaking his head. "We should go back…" 'before the alcohol controls me and I do something stupid'

"Yes…Thank you for keeping me company, Lucia." She smiled.

“My pleasure" he smiled back. "I’ll go get Ad- Noirette first. Will you be fine on your own?”

“I guess so?” she answered, dizzily.

While Luka helped Marinette stand up, Kagami called for her friend, running towards them. “Marinette! I’ve been looking for you! Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking again? Are you ok?” she said, passing her arm under Marinette’s to help her steadiness.

“I’m perrrrffffect!” she said in a hiccup. “Thanks to Lucia! She’s soooo strong, you knowwww?”

Kagami’s eyes narrowed at Luka, giving him chills. But soon she apologized for her friend’s behavior, bowing her head at him. She also informed him she would take her to their room and thanked him for having looked after her friend. Luka excused himself to go look for ‘Noirette’. Kagami’s eyebrows frowned at his comment and started walking with Marinette.

“See you tomorrowwww, Luciaaa. Goood niiiiiighttttt”. With an exaggerated waving salute, Marinette almost fell straight to the floor in front of the elevator. Thankfully, Kagami made it in time to prevent the accident.

"Good night, Marinette. See you tomorrow" Luka waved back, blushing at her clumsiness.

'This is bad' Luka thought. His heart beat faster than ever. ‘ This girl is too damn cute. I’m going to fall in love for real if this continues... ’ Luka shook his head to snap out of his thoughts. Time to get Adrien back.

Back at the elevator, Kagami kept looking at ‘Lucia’ with judging eyes.

_____________________________________________

When Luka arrived at the party room he could see the girls (and Adrien) being scolded by Madam Mendeleiev. Not daring to show himself, he waited until they all returned to their respective rooms to meet with Adrien.

“Adrien! Are you ok? I saw that witch scolding you. Did you have fun at least?” Luka patted his back.

“Luka! Where were you? It was so fun until that old woman arrived… I’ve never had so much fun before! We drank, sang and played games… I love this band already. Do we really have to leave…?” Adrien mumbled, looking like he was about to cry. Luka could sympathize with his feelings.

“Sorry, Adrien. You know what will happen if your father ever finds us… I’m happy you had fun, though”

“Thanks. Where were you, by the way? I’ve been asking for you, but nothing”

“You won’t believe it! I got to spend some time with Marinette! Man, I thought I would pass out due to her cuteness. She’s too much for my heart…” Luka answered, grinning like a lovestruck fool.

“At least it went well in your case… I couldn’t even exchange a word with Kagami before she left, and she avoided my eye contact…”

“Tomorrow is going to be another day, don’t worry. It will go better next time, you'll see. Remember we have rehearsal all day tomorrow. We should sleep” Luka said, removing his wig. Adrien mimicked his action, nodding in agreement.

Suddenly, the door opened and the two men froze. ‘Oh no’

“It’s not what it looks like!” Luka screamed, followed by Adrien’s “What he just said!”

Juleka rolled her eyes from the door, going inside the room. The clueless musicians sighed in relief.

“Are you stupid? Why didn’t you lock the door before removing your wigs? Do you want to be found out when the escape just started?” she scolded them, who made apologizing puppy eyes at her. “I’m here to discuss your escape plans”

“Oh” they both responded, making Juleka sigh at their dumbness.

“It seems no one has figured out your true identity yet. The police are still looking for you in Paris and France, so you should be fine- at least for now” she informed them.

“Good thing there’s no internet or mobile phones in this story! That would make things very easy for them to spot us when we play with the band” Adrien said, more to himself or someone not present in the room than to his interlocutors.

“Ad, man, what are you talking about? What the heck is intern- whatever you said” Luka asked, confused.

“I don’t know. I had the feeling I had to mention it. Nevermind- I don’t know it either. Go on, Juleka” Adrien shrugged and let Juleka continue with her explanation.

“See? This is the band's schedule. We’re spending this week in Milan, then Verona, and then the band is going to perform in Venice. I contacted mom with my radio and she’s going to get us a motorboat ready to escape. I’ll have a radar prepared with the coordinates so we can meet in the sea with the Liberty- mom’s ship” she clarified for Adrien. ”That’s your escape plan. Make it to Venice, and it will be your win. Don’t screw it up! Understood?”

“Yes M’am!” they said in unison, doing a salute pose.

“Good. I’ll be here early in the morning for your make-up. Good night” she said, reaching for the door. “And lock the door next time” she warned before closing it.

Luka immediately hurried to lock the door and let his body finally relax and fall to the bed. “Let’s go to sleep… It’s been a long day…”

Adrien agreed, and just like that, the men fell asleep under dreams of beauties and the feeling of being chased by the demon himself.

#my fic #airip4 #airipyon #fic: miraculous escape #they are stupiddd #which is fun to write #endgame lukanette #endgame adrigami #lukanette fic

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iggy-of-fans · 4 years

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Of Being Ladybug 9

Previous Master List

The cons of not believing

(- - )

Tim looked at his phone in surprise. He’d been in Paris for only a week to help train the Miracles, and already Bruce was calling him? Was hell freezing over? Did someone die?!

“B?” Tim whispers, not wanting to wake up Stephanie. There is silence on the other line. Tim frowns and moves to the other room so he can turn on the video.

“Bruce?” he asks again, now looking at the brooding older man. He looked like Joker just shat in his coffee.

“Tim… I… when you were younger… how… what could I have done to support you more?” Bruce finally bit out. His pauses long and his eyes drawn together. Bruce was looking to the side and was speaking quietly. Tim recognized the room as Steph’s before she moved into his room. A new sibling? AH! Bruce had been petitioning to have the previous Ladybug brought under his custody. He’d been blocked and turned away every time. It seemed Diana was extremely excited to be teaching a new Ladybug, had in fact claimed her as her sister. Bruce had been told that he had enough children and that he didn’t need to “corrupt” another one.

“Is the new sister having a hard time adjusting? Shouldn’t you be asking Dick?” Tim asked, relieved no one died…again.

“… Marinette is fourteen and about to graduate high school this Christmas. She was tossed to the side by her family for some unknown reason. She was torn from her friends and responsibilities. Since receiving the Miraculous at thirteen, she has hardly had a minute to breath, let alone figure herself out. And when, by all rights, she should have had the time, Diana takes her, shaves all her hair off and tells her “[W]ith every hair that falls, a part of Marinette must die. As your new hair grows, Maria will grow as well.” She wasn’t allowed to sew or draw or bake or cook. She wasn’t allowed to do anything that had any connection to her previous life,” Bruce’s hands and jaw were clenched.

Tim frowned again. What?!

“Marinette trained from dawn to dusk, but was never allowed out of the house, nor to shadow her on missions. She was to study, to train, and to sit quietly and behave herself.”

“You’re kidding?! No wonder her friends here are so worried! They’ve been trying to contact her!” Tim growled. He felt ready to go hunt an Amazonian.

“What would you suggest I do? She thinks further ahead than anyone I know, has strategies and back-up strategies and back-ups for the back-ups. She has social anxiety, with a history of being bullied. She skipped grades and then stopped for some reason. She had the same teacher for years, despite having been bullied by classmates. I just… I need to hear from someone who is closer to her age and had similar problems. What can I do?” Bruce wiped his hand down his face. He looked so tired.

Tim sighed and thought back to when he was fourteen. He’d been Robin for three years by then already. What could he have used? More time together? More friends? More sleep? Did any of this help his new sister?

Tim shook his head, “I don’t know, B. I was more interested in being Robin than being a teenager. Time with you was always good. Sibling time with as well. Maybe call Dick. He’s always been the best adjusted out of all of us.”

Bruce just nodded, gave his half smile and was about to sign off when a light went off over his head.

“Tim, one last thing. Please look into the school and classmates for me. Something tells me Marinette was being held back against her will.”

Tim frowned more. He nodded before signing off and sending a message to the Miracle Team that Marinette would be able to speak in the next week and would video chat with them soon. He was about to text Jason when Stephanie called for him. He put his phone down and walked back to bed.

( # , # )

Richard Grayson was used to getting calls at weird times. But two in the morning and from Bruce’s civilian phone? He sent a quick prayer up that no one died and answered.

“What’s up, B? Miss me already?” He asked cheerfully.

Bruce looked tiredly at the camera, “Dick. I need some advice to help your newest sister adjust.”

Dick’s eyes widened. Bruce finally got custody! That’s good. But he looked so exhausted. He wondered what happened.

“Adjust to what, specifically? The fighting? School? Is she moody? What’s going on?” Dick asked. When did he become the one to give PARENTING advice to his father?

As Bruce talked about what he’d learned from Marinette’s journal, Dick became more and more angry. He was a guy, but even her knew that you never cut a girl’s hair without permission!

“Sounds to me like she just needs to believe that this is real and permanent. Just be there when you can. Talk to her about decisions and let her work the way she is used to on missions. Thing’s will fall into place after that” Dick said pragmatically. There really wasn’t much to do but be there. He wished he could be there to help in person, but India had recently fallen prey to the mouse Miraculous. He and Starfire were there to capture the thief that was misusing the Miraculous.

Bruce sighed and nodded, before hanging up. Poor Bruce. Dick would do his best to get done here and head home. He was excited to meet his new sister! He sent a message to Jason and Tim, warning them of the new sister and to be nice if they caught her on the video chats.

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce sighed, exhausted. He hadn’t meant to call the boys yet, but this was not something he wanted to go in blind to. Diana had made a lot of mistakes with Marinette, and she deserved better than that. Bruce had only glanced through the journal to get some insight, but it seemed Marinette suffered from Imposter Syndrome, social anxiety, abandonment issues… And Diana, who only exasperated the problems. Keeping her locked away, training her to exhaustion, taking her hobbies and passions, killing any and all aspects of her personality. Bruce had thought Marinette was just shy. This though. He frowned. Had he known about this he would have treated Marinette very differently. Maybe an hour of sleep would help him clear his head. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

< ( >< ) >

Alfred stared blankly at the ceiling. Something wasn’t adding up. For all that her parents were busy people, they seemed to love their daughter a great deal. He couldn’t imagine they had just randomly abandoned her for being a hero. Not when they hosted Chat Noir for dinner one night. Not when they seemed so proud of their daughter with every award she received. Something was off. Alfred wasn’t a detective, but he would find out what had truly happened if it killed him.

{ J }

Jason stared at his phone, re-reading the message from Dick. A new sister, huh?

‘Che, poor kid. Dealing with B all on her own. I’ll have to make this quick,’ he thought as he lifted the binoculars.

He was currently in Germany, following a suspected Miraculous user. The information about the Horse Miraculous stated that they could open portals anywhere. And recently a string of missing women from Cologne was becoming very concerning. Especially when companions and eyewitnesses all claim the same thing: a glowing yellow circle opening in the air and the woman vanishing through it. Jason watched silently as Cass walked down the street below. The tracker and her own training would hopefully keep her alive long enough for Jason to find her and the rest of the women. Nothing below. Maybe check the other side? Just as he was getting up, he felt a fist to his head. And then black.

*!!*

Luka looked at his phone. Marinette was finally in contact again? The day Black Canary had landed, they had bothered her from dawn to dusk to talk to their old leader, but were stonewalled, as her new guardian didn’t think it was a good idea to be constantly reminded of her failure. The team had shouted that it wasn’t Marinette’s failure alone, but the whole teams. And more over, the League’s, as they never took their calls for help seriously. Canary was pretty quickly chased away by them, and another trainer was sent. Green Lantern 1 and 2 were a great help for Kaefer, but the rest of the team didn’t see any real benefit from them. And they didn’t care in the least about Marinette. They didn’t last very long either. It went on like this for a year. Trainers came and went, all of them parroting the same thing. Luka had a new reputation now, as the trainer wrecker, on the team. And as a civilian? He became completely cold and closed off. Only his teammates saw any warmth from him. But even Juleka was being steadily pushed to arms length. Paris did this to Marinette. And none of them, not her friends or her family, even cared.

<(**)>

When Marinette woke up the next morning, she knew immediately that she wasn’t alone. Looking out through blurry eyes, she saw the figure of a man standing by her window. He was turned away, looking outside with the sun streaming in. She tried to remember how she got to her room.

A knock at her door had her quickly closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep. Bruce went to the door.

“Master Bruce. I thought you and Miss Marinette might enjoy some breakfast.”

“Thank you, Alfred. Will you be joining us for breakfast?”

“I’m afraid I have an errand to run in town this morning. But I will be sure to return for lunch. Do try not to burn the kitchen down.”

“You can sit up now, Marinette. I heard the change in your breathing earlier.”

Marinette cracked an eye open. Why? She sat up on her bed and looked up at her current guardian.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Bruce gestured at the end of the bed, carrying a large tray filled with waffles, fruits, yogurt and coffee. Marinette shook her head mutely.

After Bruce set the tray on the middle of the bed, he sat down and looked her in they eye.

“Marinette, what I said last night still stands. I want you to feel at home here. This isn’t temporary. Two of the oldest boys are already calling you their newest sister. Marinette, most of my children are adopted. In fact, only one of my kids is related to me by blood. I wanted to bring you here from the beginning, but lost the custody battle to… Anyways, you’re here now. I want you to feel at home and remember yourself. To have a safe place to just be.”

Marinette felt her eyes watering again. Was this… was this real? But her parents had promised to always be there too, hadn’t they? Marinette nodded. Eventually everything would come to an end. But for now, for just this moment, she would allow herself to be comfortable.

“Okay? Okay. So, I wanted to talk to you about school and extra curriculars. Your work schedule… “ Bruce pulled a notebook out of his breast pocket. Her eyes widened. He… He wanted HER opinion?

“No school” her voice was barely above a whisper, her hands clenched in the blankets and her head bowed. She missed his nod of understanding.

“No school. Just distance education with tests and exams taken in the principle’s office. But I am more interested in what you might be interested in taking in University. Are there any particular courses that interest you? Is there a career path you’d like to follow? We will have to start the applications right away if you want to get in for the Spring term. And what about extra curriculars? Dance? Ice dancing? Gymnastics? Parkour? Sewing? Singing? Music? Most of the kids all learned piano from me at some point…” He was looking in his notebook and tapping his pen against his pants.

Wah…? Marinette felt her jaw drop.

“Am I overwhelming you? It’s okay to take a few days to think things over and let me know…” Bruce looked at her face, jaw slack and eyes wide. Marinette just nodded.

“Breakfast?”

Tag List

@maya-custodios-dionach @dur55 @driftingmoonlitpetals @kill-the-purses @annabellabrookes @a-marlene-s @queenmj10 @loveswifi @elmokingkong @aestheticnpoetic @animalgirl05 @northernbluetongue @lilacandcream @yin-390 @silvergold-swirl @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo @goblinwhoships @weird-pale-blonde-person @ @moonlightstar64 @krispydefendorpolice @kuroko26 @ladylupa @jardimazul @welcometopradasa @thatrandomfandomgirl @imanerddealwith @sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @loysydark @nataladriana9

#Of Being Ladybug #cons of #maribat #bruce wayne #Marinette deserves better #marinette wayne #marinette fu #daminette #minor lukanette #BatFam

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smllgrlbigwrld · 6 years

Text

Harry & Y/N don’t talk, but when he offers to be her bf she thinks its not that crazy.

Hello! This lil story just popped into my head and I was like I gotta write it! I was mainly inspired by “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” Just a different concept obvs. I hope you enjoy! :)

They aren’t best friends, but yet they aren’t strangers. They were more like acquaintances. On the occasion they would exchange small side hugs or give each other a welcoming smile whenever they’d cross paths, to be friendly of course. But they never really conversed. Usually whenever Harry went out to a party or to a bar with some of his close friends, she’d be there too because of mutual friends they had.

Harry never really thought about her, but he wondered who she was or how she knew some of his best friends. Y/N knew who he was though, how could she not. She genuinely enjoyed Harry’s presence. She enjoyed his music and the way he carried himself whether it was on stage or in the comfort of their friends.

Harry didn’t mind her presence either, but there was always some sort of quietness around them. They had never made an effort to get to know each other on a personal level. Most of the time they would crack jokes, share crazy experiences they had, or play a game of pool, but they were never alone doing these things, it was always amongst the few friends they shared.

Sometimes he would stand off to the side somewhere and scroll through his phone, watch his mates from afar play an intense game of pool, or he’d just walk away to grab a snack off the table at a party he wanted to desperately leave because he was tired. Those were the moments his friends would take advantage of. They’d walk up to him and nudge his hip, causing him to turn around at them raising his eyebrows in slight annoyance.

And this time, Harry was at the snack table for the third time already grabbing whatever was splayed out across the table. He feels someone grab his hip a little too harshly. It was Jeff.

“H, why don’t you walk yourself over there and have a chat with Y/N? She seems pretty bored, just like you apparently, this is like the millionth time you’ve came to this table already.”

Harry looks at him with a tight lipped expression, and furrows his brows. He’s staring intently at Jeff, perplexity written all over his face. “What?”

“I said go on over towards Y/N, the girl in the black dre--”

Harry quickly interrupts him. “No, no I know man I heard you. But we hardly know each other.. don’t really know what we’d talk about, she’s just a mutual friend really.”

“Oh c’mon! How can you possible say you don’t know what to talk about, sure you do! You talk to pretty much everyone. You’re a natural H!” Jeff says with a scoff.

He chuckles and his eyes go over to scan Y/N. She’s sitting on a white stool at the small bar in the kitchen and her eyes are a bit droopy. He knows she’s tired because she’s facing some friends that are sitting on the floor watching them play some sort of card game with a very unamused look.

“Y’know what? M’so fuckin’ bored, why not.” He huffs defeatingly and walks over towards Y/N. Jeff pats his back and laughs, already rooting for him.

Harry wasn’t shy necessarily. He just never initiated a conversation with her and she never had either so he figured maybe it was best they were just casual acquaintances. He didn’t know her at all so the only thing he could do was assume and vice versa.

He taps her shoulder with a small bit of force and she quickly looks over at him, a bit startled. “It’s Y/N, right? Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He laughs at the way her eyes go wide and sits down next to her.

“Oh.. hey there Harry! Y-yes thats my name. No worries, you just scared me a bit!” She faces him and smiles widely. “How are you doing?” Her eyes blink rapidly because she’s still a bit shaken up at the way he approached her.

He gives a short laugh. “I’m great, a bit tired but s’all good. You?”

“Oh gosh me too!” She smiles lazily.

He decides to just come on out and ask her since he was curious as to why she was just as bored as he was.“Sooo, why aren’t you playing with them?” he says motioning towards the many people sitting in a circle on the carpet playing a game, their loud voices and laughs filling up the room.

Her lips go into a pout and she furrows her brows. “I-umm-I don’t really feel like being here to be honest with you. I’m exhausted. I’ve been out and about with one of my friends all day, did some catching up or whatever, and then I kinda got dragged back here without a say in it.” Her chest rises up and down, her shoulders slump just a tad bit and she lets out a huff through her nose. “I’ve just been sitting here scrolling through my phone every once in awhile, but even doing that bores me so, sitting and staring at them it is.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh and crosses his arms. “I know what y’mean. It’s just been a long day and I’d really love to go home and sleep.” He gives her a confused look. “But wait..why don’t you just go to the backyard? I seen quite a few of your friends back there. You avoiding someone out there or what?” He snorts and looks at her with the most puzzled face.

She groans and turns around in her seat, her elbows rest on the tables and her hands are covering her face. “Oh my gosh, I actually am. Is it that obvious?”

“W-what? No I mean I was just joking around love, but I just thought it was a bit strange that you’re sitting here obviously bored and sleepy, but all your mates are right out back!” He says with a raised but playful voice.

Y/N lifts up from her elbows and turns back in her seat to look at Harry. She licks her lips and her eyes are rapidly looking around him as if she was trying to avoid something or someone. She breathes heavily. “Yeah..I know. It’s just..I have this friend and h-he keeps trying to talk to me. She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes in frustration. “He doesn’t get it through his thick skull that I am absolutely NOT interested in anything he has to say or offer.”

He stares at her intently as she opens her eyes and puts her hands back down into her lap. She notices he’s staring at her a bit wide-eyed so she stares back at him and tilts her head to the side. “W-what? Oh no. Is he in here?” Her voice comes out shaky and she freezes up where she is.

He has a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Y/N you didn’t even tell me who he was, how would I know if he was in here?”

“Oh yeah huh.” She laughs and puts a hand over her forehead as she realizes this. “Well, it’s Lukas. You ever see him? He’s literally always around me, doesn’t matter where the hell I am, he manages to tag along with my other friends. He has jet black hair, wears glasses, and has a birthmar--”

He cuts her off as soon as he realizes who she’s referring to. “A birthmark near his nose! Yeaah I’ve seen him plenty of times. Most of the time actually. Is he bothering you or...?”

Her face illuminates and whatever drowsiness she felt earlier was now down the drain. “Yes! I mean yes that’s him but no he doesn’t try anything but I just reallyyy don’t want to talk to him. He’s a cool guy sure, but no means...no. Ya know? I don’t know he’s just a bit bumptious.” She murmurs. “I’m not really looking for a relationship right now but he just thinks he’s the shit and that he can win me over eventually..”

He scrunches his nose.“Egotistical huh?” What a dickhead. But.. what if I were to propose an offer to you?” He sneers at her and she eyeballs him as if he was crazy.

She cocks an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you proposing Harry? I hardly know you. What makes you think I won’t second guess whatever it is you’re scheming?”

As much as they were strangers, Y/N can’t help but note how comfortable it was to talk and be around him. Why didn’t they ever talk on a one on one level they both wonder.

He snickers faintly but his demeanor changes and it’s more serious this time. “So, this Lukas guy. Y’said he wants to be in a relationship with you so…” He stops and analyzes her expression, he’s trying to determine whether or not she’s catching on to his idea.

Y/N is clueless until it finally hits her. He wanted them to pretend date and get Lukas jealous, probably get him a bit riled up. “Wait. Harry? No way r-really!? She reiterates and her mouth is hung open, shock all over her face. “No you’re messing with me! You’ve gotta be Harry!”

He looks at her with a straight face. He doesn’t know whats gotten into him but he was so bored, he would kill to do anything a bit more fun than what he was just doing a few minutes ago. “It’s not that crazy Y/N! It’s just for show. M’doing you a favor aren’t I? We can do what you’re comfortable with alright? Hold hands, give quick pecks on the cheek, and I-I guess act like we’ve always been close y’know? I doubt he’ll notice that we’ve never really spoken, you said so yourself, he’s self-absorbed.”

Y/N looks down towards her wedged heels and bites the inside of her cheek. She’s in deep thought until she finally speaks up. “Hmph. I mean it’s not all that bad, he is really annoying and I’d love to keep him out of my hair. But how does this even work? Where do we even start? This is the first time we’ve held a conversation for more than 5 mi--””

He grabs her hand in a fast motion which causes her to stand up from the stool. Y/N is surprised at his sudden movement and stays silent, waiting for him to explain himself. Determination is spread across his face. “Okay I know it’s a bit mad but look just trust me! Just c’mon Y/N!” He gives her a smug smirk. “Or should I say…Babe.”

Thanks for reading! Let me know if I should make a part 2. I’m thinking about ideas regardless but it is nice to get confirmations / feedback!!

**part 2 is up!!**

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3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 789

Chelsea, England

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea players, and random awesome OC’s

(okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“You know what’s funny? Schü and I went on our first date at the restaurant here, if you don’t count the lunches and dinners we had in Florida when I was 100% positive he was 100% not interested in having sex with me.”

“What, you thought he was interested in having riding lessons with you?”

“No. I don’t know. I just thought he was bored or something.”

“Remarkable.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m getting another drink.”

“Ohmetoo! Same again, please, thank you.”

Juan deliberately bumped into Christina’s arm so her elbow would fall off the table when he got up to go to the bar. Their watering hole of choice for a rainy Monday night was the basement for a trendy Shoreditch boutique hotel. She wanted to see Juan because two weeks of horse showing and visiting André meant two weeks without any friend-dates, and he wanted to go out. Christina rode the horses that weren’t in Zurich with her over the weekend and then took Lukas shopping in the city. Mostly they were out for food. She wanted to visit her favorite market to get some really good meat and produce to cook with while she was home for a few days. Prolonged exposure to hotel food often did that to her. The little boy “helped” her make blueberry and oats muffins. He thought chia seeds were magic. Stirring them in water and watching it turn to gel was so much fun for him. Using magical ingredients in place of others to make her baked goods more healthy was so much fun for his mom. So was experimenting with cocktails in a rather plainly decorated but colorfully lit bar and music venue. Her drink of choice was made from Aperol, Bombay Sapphire, Campari, grapefruit juice, and ginger ale. Juan placed her second one down beside her cheese plate. She forgot to schedule dinner between baking and getting dressed to go out.

“What are you having?” she asked him curiously when the next glass to touch down on the table was not the same as the stemware his first drink was served in.

“Johnnie Walker.”

“Ew.”

“Do you want to stay for whatever the musical act is or do you have a curfew?” the footballer inquired from the relaxed posture immediately resumed upon returning to his seat. Juan was in a pretty good mood. A slight blip at White Hart Lane was wiped away with a win at home against Hull after almost every team in the large chasing pack managed to stumble and distance themselves even further from Chelsea’s heels. They also recovered from some Diego Costa drama. Everything was great. The Spaniard also just took on another marketing project- his father’s restaurant. Perhaps most obviously in terms of reasons for him to be relaxed, was his happiness at Christina being back in town and available to hang out.

“I don’t really care,” she told him with grilled sourdough in one hand and her cocktail in the other. “Espen is staying over to do Lukas in the morning because I have a shoot, so it doesn’t matter when I get home.” The bar under the Ace Hotel was known for its 7-days-a-week live entertainment and late nights. Some nights it was more like a packed club. On Monday at a little after 9 it was just a bar with some people really pushing the limits of “after work drinks”, and a few little conclaves whose lives evidently afforded them the freedom to go out for boozing and lounging on weeknights. If there was a crowd coming specifically to see whomever the scheduled artists were, they weren’t there yet.

“Who or what are you shooting for?”

“A German horse magazine. I did the interview in Leipzig so they’re just coming to do the pictures, which evidently necessitates having some people from adidas come dress me.” Three-to-one he’s saying something like “In that case, you should sleep over and let me UNdress you” in his head, the brunette in leather leggings surmised. She rubbed a square paper napkin between her fingers to get rid of crumbs, and then flipped her hair over its part, removing it from her face.

“What was the last legitimately interesting interview question you were asked? I get the same ones over and over for years.”

“I don’t know.” Her nose wrinkled a little on its own volition, and she paused with her drink on its way to her mouth. “I kind of don’t pay attention anymore. I don’t even think about the answers, let alone the questions. I haven’t given a consciously honest interview in...more than a year, probably. I used to care. I used to always try to be brutally honest. I’m tired of the same questions over and over, as you say, and I think I was tired of having to share so much of myself. I used to like being really transparent. It was important to me. It was also emotionally exhausting. People used to find it novel and fun and refreshing and then after a while they just tried to use it against me all the time, so F that. If you’re going to twist everything I say and make drama, I’m not going to give real answers anymore.”

“I have a very serious and important question for you, cariña.” Juan’s lips stayed flat and un-emotive, but his eyes sparkled with his typical kind of guile. Christina raised a brow to invite him to make his inquiry. “When are you making me fried chicken?”

“Wednesday!” She sat back in her boxy wood chair and smiled like the cat who got the canary, even as she licked spicy cranberry jam off her thumb. “I got a bunch of fresh chicken today. I’ll make the buttermilk up for it tomorrow so it can soak overnight. You can make yourself free for Wednesday dinner, yes?” It was novel to have the ability and opportunity to surprise the player.

“For the fried chicken, yes, absolutely.”

“Good. I’m going to invite Nat and the kids too, and Eden I guess. Otherwise I have too much leftover chicken and not enough days to eat it.”

“Why are you so giggly?” The Chelsea man was skeptical about his ex-girlfriend’s persistent, gaping smile. The giggles were in her eyes too, and even in her skin. She was a little red from her off-the-shoulder sweater all the way up to her cheeks. “You look like you’re keeping a secret. Are you going to use some weird, healthy, disgusting ingredient to bread the chicken and be like “Surprise! It tastes as good but it’s really...seaweed flour”?” She used her newly re-cleaned fingers to shake her hair back where it belonged, and pinched some of the length between her index and pointer fingers to gesture with it at her friend.

“You are as paranoid about food as Schü. I made chunky mashed potatoes while I was in Dortmund and trying to save Stef and Mario’s relationship with an intimate dinner for four, and he was like smell testing the bowl because he was sure I snuck cauliflower in with the potatoes.” Christina used her little cheese knife to get some soft Brie for her next piece of bread, but she hardly broke eye contact to do it, and her smirk remained.

“Seriously. You’ve been borderline giddy all evening, with the exception of talking about interview questions.” The player’s head tilted to his right, like a dog might do when he’s asked a question or wishes to ask one of his human. “Do you have some secret you’re keeping?” She thought absently that he might have assumed she was concealing some seduction plot for later on. That wasn’t the case. She did make her underwear choices with the possibility of that sort of thing in mind, but it wasn’t made up yet as to whether or not she wanted to get into that.

A curious thing happened on her visit to Dortmund. It became apparent that sleeping with someone else a couple of times made sleeping with her husband again way better than usual. There was no telling why, or what was even different about it. It just felt good, physically and emotionally. The parts that were supposed to be special felt special, and the parts that were supposed to make her melt into a warm soup of satisfaction did that too, on a level higher than the equivalent experiences just a week or so earlier. André enjoyed it too. He had that inevitable sense of relief that his girl didn’t seem in any way tainted, or spoiled. Her visit was much too short for his liking but much better than he expected, in part because they stayed in bed for a lot of it. Still, Christina was wary of the concept of rushing to Juan’s bed the minute she had the free time and opportunity. And that definitely wasn’t what had her smiling out of her pores.

“What did you do yesterday again?” she asked back of her friend, with a concerted effort to squeeze her brows discerningly and questioningly- an act to try to suppress the smirking. “Remind me.” The Spaniard was confused.

“I went to Paris with Taylor, to look for a book she wants. And to eat. I told you this.” His burlier brows were pinched too, because he didn’t understand her line of questioning or what it had to do with her cocktail-infused perma-smiles.

“And what didn’t you do, that you otherwise normally would on a Sunday when your BFF is competing?”

“Watch the stream?”

“Nah, more normally than that. I know you don’t always watch,” she laughed.

“I didn’t wish you luck. I was trying to give T my attention all day, and you made it pretty clear last week that you didn’t want to talk about-“

“Relax!” There was persistent, tame laughter in the face of the player’s self defense. “I’m not complaining. I’m not asking what you didn’t do like I’m mad about it. Use your head, Juanin,” Christina challenged. He grew desperate without a clue what she was trying to get him to deduce or conclude. The violent shaking around of the ice in his glass matched the almost perturbed look in his eyes. I’ll put him out of his misery, I suppose. “You didn’t ask me how the qualifier went!”

“Like I said, you made it seem like you didn’t want-“

“I’m not complaining! I’m just trying to tell you that I won! That I’m happy because Dirk was excellent and absolutely perfect and we won the qualifier. Derp.” The rider folded her left leg up to put her platform sneaker flat on her seat, and continued to look devious above the rim of her drink, which she then sipped carefully in hopes that her friend’s face wouldn’t contort in any more comical ways that might make her laugh and thus choke.

“Oh, fantastic. Well why didn’t you just say that from the beginning!” He remained perturbed and appeared even frazzled. This delighted his ex. He looks like someone has done him some injustice, she thought. He’s incredulous but I think it’s actually because he’s upset with himself for not asking me about the horse show. I’m sure he did remember that I said last week not to talk about horse showing because last week was a hellacious nightmare of calamity and it wasn’t even my fault, but I bet he still meant to at least ask how the show went, she worked out in her head while reaching over to shove him in the arm- a teasing gesture. Either way, he is so cute when he’s off his game, or when anything unexpected happens, really.

“I’m trying not to make a big deal out of wins,” she demurred, her own composure regained and her cocktail half gone. “They never used to be a big deal. It was just normal to win. So I’m treating it like a normal thing, in hopes that it actually becomes normal again. Kind of like the US media and Donald Trump. But yes, I am in a good mood, and- Actually, hold up for just a second.” Christina raised one finger and took a deep breath. “I want to amend my previous statement. The winning part isn’t so important, or the normal thing. The performance is. D-Money was uhhmazing. He had wings and turbo boosters and FRIC suspension. But that use-“

“What suspension?”

“FRIC. Front and Rear InterConnected, for F1. Mercedes developed it at the end of the V8 era and Ferrari complained and complained until Charlie decided it was illegal. You know how roll bars link the front right to the front left and the rear right to the rear left? FRIC was a hydraulic system designed to connect front and rear, to work like a roll bar but for pitch, to try to keep ride height stable. I trust I don’t need to explain why that would be advantageous.”

“You’re an insufferable know-it-all at times, cariña. Stop knowing things you have no right to know,” Juan insisted. He also tried somewhat halfheartedly to get the attention of a waitress who was less than halfheartedly committed to doing her job.

“This isn’t even like uber nerd level F1 knowledge. It was discussed on TV. Ted Kravitz probably explained it on his iPad in a phone booth or something.”

“What?”

“Never mind. We should go to a race together this year though.” Christina briefly considered righting her most relaxed posture in the broad chair when the waitress walked up to the table. She felt like she was relaxing on a couch at home, and ordinarily that wasn’t an acceptable state of being for her in a bar, but it was awfully comfortable. She just looked up at the young woman instead, and then over at Juan, since she didn’t know what he summoned her for.

“She needs a piece of cake, or a tart, or something like that.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do. She does,” he nodded at the server.

“I have a pecan tart with vanilla mascarpone and blackcurrants, toffee pudding with ginger ice cream, ice cream by itself, roasted pineapple with fresh passion fruit and coconut sorbet, and chocolate and brioche butter pudding with rum raisin ice cream.”

“You want the thing with the chocolate?” The player looked at Christina with large and innocent, almost childlike eyes. He clearly believed some celebration was necessary despite her explicit wish to downplay her World Cup qualifier result, or the performance that earned it, as it were. She had no interest in dessert of any kind but his expression was too cute and genuine to deny. The idea of seeing his face fall- of disappointment moving in- was too terrible. Instead the rider nodded to the waitress and held up two fingers to request two spoons. If he was making her have bread pudding and ice cream, he was going to have to eat some too, and she was sure he’d have no objections. “You’re already having a fizzy drink so I didn’t think champagne was an adequate celebration,” he explained once the girl left with the empty glasses from their first round. Christina stared at the part of the table freed up. There was a minimalist depiction of a constellation there. All the tables had them- white drawings on the dark gray tabletops, giving a hint of the celestial about the place. Each table had a very melty white candle in the middle too.

“No celebration is necessary, but okay.”

“Good.”

“I’m gonna need to go home after dessert though because food coma. I’m already full of cheese.” Christina reached for another block of semi-hard British cheese in defiance of her own decree.

“My home.”

“Oh you think so?” she chuckled.

“I know so.” The Chelsea midfielder nodded just one time and a clever smirk spread across his jaw, doing away with all the confusion, bafflement, and innocence of before. She looked all around their table to assess who might be looking, and hurled a piece of cheese in the direction of his face. It bounced off his cheek and chin and ended up in his lap.

“You’re so cheesy!”

“You’re so happy you’re drunk even though you’re not drunk,” he told her while he ate her harmless artillery. “It’s a little weird. I forgot what it’s like. I only see you this happy when you’re naked and sweating. And that’s a different kind of happy.”

“Shhhhhhhhh!”

Juan assured her no one was or could be listening, and that was probably true. The tables immediately surrounding them were empty. They were populated slowly over the course of their dessert eating and a third and final round of drinks. The volume of people showing up late for the band was a surprise to both of them, and kind of unwelcome. Juan had picked that spot for its relative emptiness and super relaxed atmosphere. Nobody bothered him there. It was almost like the bar had a regular crowd and they didn’t care what new people popped in as long as they didn’t change that chilled out atmosphere. That changed with the hour. Christina also couldn’t bear to sit still for a minute longer, or wear all her clothes, for that matter. She was a little drunk and a lot full and very tired, and for her that necessitated comfortable and/or minimal clothing and lying down.

The duo of intoxicated friends took a cab back to Juan’s. Christina was committed to hanging there for a while regardless of anything he might have had in mind about her being naked and sweating, purely because she drank too much to drive and needed that recovery period for the food too. There was couch spooning, and she found a triple play of episodes of The Tudors, and spent much of the first one explaining her Henry VIII era fetish- her self-proclaimed strange obsession with kings and other royal folk sleeping with anyone they wanted, by charm, coercion, or brute force, the “boobs in the face” costumes no doubt scandalized by Hollywood, and the idea of having sex in Victorian-draped beds. The player told her she just had a rape fetish, which she vehemently denied. Her rebuttal also included a thesis about women actually having all the power over the king of many wives. The fact that half of them ended up dead didn’t sway her. To her, Henry VIII was just a hopeless romantic, not in that he behaved like a particularly romantic gent, but in that he fell in love or lust with pretty much everybody and couldn’t keep it in his pants. The male heir problem didn’t figure into her theory. She liked The Tudors because it included all the soap opera drama with just enough of the authentic violence to elevate it above actual soap operas. Also, she thought Jonathan Rhys Meyers was really sexy as a brooding, womanizing king.

“Hoooooow can you enjoy this show?” Juan whined to her halfway through the second episode. She’d been quiet for a while and thus afforded him the opportunity to actually pay attention to the program, and to playing with her hair. “All that happens is two or three people have a quiet conversation about another person betraying someone, then clergy members threaten people or get threatened, and a young man in poofy sleeves flirts offensively with a blushing girl with her breasts in his face. It just goes on repeat. Same thing over and over.” He spoke quietly and tiredly, and he was losing motivation to remain upright on his elbow behind the rider, his head beginning to tip backward into the rear cushion.

“I don’t see how that can be a bad thing. Those are all dramatic and interesting things. There’s a trial coming! This is the kind of shit that goes down when you marry your brother’s wife and then want to bang somebody younger and hotter and need permission from the Pope. The Queen has such pretty jewels. I think Dolce ripped off the costume designers for this show.” Christina insisted on silence for the tense trial before some representatives of the Pope, and Juan nearly fell asleep. He did abandon holding his head up, and laid it down on double stacked pillows behind her. The episode finished when the trial didn’t really go as planned for Henry and his treasonous confidant.

“What else happened this weekend that I didn’t remember to ask about?” the Spaniard questioned with a sleepy yawn. He was more interested in playing with her fingers in his hand in front of her chest than he was in whatever would happen in the third and final episode. It was past both of their bedtimes.

“Tim got an offer for a book deal. A publisher wants me to do a book about...me, I guess. He said they have some writers in mind to help with it and I could use the time between now and the Olympics to meet with them and pick one, and then we’d do it after the games. I’m not interested.”

“Your career is too young to be in a book.”

“I agree.”

“Why do you think it went better this time, baby girl? Can I ask that?”

“I have no idea. I was by myself but I doubt that matters. Hey, I have a question for you.” Christina shifted from her side to her back to ask her question, because she wanted to see his face when he answered. It wasn’t going to be an easy question, however. It was one she felt slightly uncomfortable asking, but deeply curious about the response. Juan didn’t seem wont to let go of her hand, which he held loosely by a couple of fingers, so she just moved it to her stomach, over his sweatshirt that she borrowed for coziness’ sake. He sat up on his elbow again. “You’ve slept with Taylor since we were last together, right?” He nodded and his right eyebrow kind of twitched, which she read as confusion about why she was asking that specific question, and maybe what her feelings about the answer were. But that wasn’t the answer she was most curious about. It was just part of the set up. “Was it better than usual, or not as good? Or the same?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she fibbed, averting her eyes from the sleepy blue ones studying her at close range. The ceiling was a fine safe harbor for hers.

“Yes you do.” The Chelsea creator released her fingers to move some hair from her face, in case she was trying to hide under that too. He uncovered her right eye, previously protected by a curtain of pure cacao. She’d parted her root-boosted and very soft, shiny hair far to the left, which meant there was always some hanging in front of her face. Juan’s pointer finger must have liked the way it felt. He continued combing the relocated strands by her temple.

“I’m just wondering.”

“Why are you wondering? “I don’t know”.” A baby smile accompanied his mocking impression.

“Why does it matter? Whatever I say, you’re going to assume I just want reassurance that you like being with me better.”

“Why do you say that? I don’t assume that. I do assume you already know I’d rather be with you. I’ve made that clear to you, cariña, haven’t I?” The faint but authentic little smile morphed into faint consternation. I have bitten off more than I wanted to chew, Christina reflected. It wasn’t that she couldn’t chew her piece. She just didn’t want to have to. She wished she’d gone for something less substantial.

“Can you just answer my question, and maybe I’ll tell you why depending on the answer.”

“It’s not any different.”

“Okay.”

“Now tell me why.”

“No.”

“Is it not good with him anymore?”

He can hardly contain himself, the rider thought when she gave in and peeked to her left- when she made eye contact. There was eagerness looking back at her, and someone on the verge of validation. I didn’t even think of that. He thinks I’m asking because I don’t like sleeping with Schü anymore, and that that means something. Something good for him. Now I have to crush him and tell him it’s the opposite? How do I always get myself into these stupid emotional quandaries? Ever since I got a fox tattooed on my person my cleverness and cunning have steadily waned. Perhaps my baby fox is growing up and he’s stealing my foxy qualities so that he can be a complete, adult fox. Christina reached for the inky fox cub in the top hat on her wrist and inadvertently chewed her lip. The Spaniard gently nudged her toward giving an answer.

“If you spend three minutes before you answer, I know you don’t say the truth, baby girl.”

“It’s better. It’s amazing. I was hoping you’d say the same so that we could talk about it, but now I realize how stupid that is,” she sighed, eyes back on the ceiling and thus with no idea whether her friend’s face registered disappointment or not. “You wanted me to say it’s bad now.”

“It’s not stupid. You can talk to me about anything.”

“I know I can, but that doesn’t mean I should.”

“Beautiful girl,” Juan mumbled, his gaze still very much trained on her, and her impending dismissive reaction. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Don’t try to get me out of my own stupidity with an empty compliment,” Christina mumbled back.

“I wasn’t, and it’s not empty. You are objectively a beautiful girl, and to me, more than that.” He used his thumb to gently push on her temple and encourage her to turn her head towards him a bit. “Stay tonight,” he implored when she finally looked his way.

“Do I look like I’m going anywhere?” The rider let her bent knees tip over against him, and pushed her pout out for a kiss. She got the innocent sort she was after- the kind that punctuates a decision, or seals an agreement. Hollow as her head said his compliments were, her heart disagreed. His face being that close to her and his hand touching her and his voice near enough to vibrate off her instead of just resonate in her ears could give her heart veto power over her head- could let irrationality and romanticism overrule skepticism and reluctance. Christina lived her life through a filter of skepticism and reluctance. They were like guiding principles. They came naturally to her, by instinct. She was dubious about everything and the reluctance came as a consequence of her never wanting to be wrong, and never wanting to disappoint anyone. Everyone in her life that she loved dearly, be it as a partner, a lover, or friend, and including the horses she was closest to, was able to lure her out of skepticism and reluctance and allow her to indulge the irrational and revel in the romantic. To have a close and endeared relationship with Christina required being able to give her a holiday from her own personality. That was why her relationship with herself was often so rocky. Juan made her want to believe in his compliments.

“Ready for bed?”

“Only if you’re gonna carry me there. I’m too tired to move. My body is already sleeping,” she smiled. It would take more than telling her she was beautiful and giving her a smooch to turn off the sarcasm-dependent part of her personality, which relied on humor to save her from overly intense moments.

“You want me to wake it up?” The footballer withdrew his delicate touch from near her temple and placed his palm on her stomach instead, where the borrowed gray, white, and black sweatshirt was all bunched up from her various wiggles and twists. She warned him not to tickle, and he promised that he meant alternative methods of rousing her body from its figurative slumber. That garnered more eye rolling, so then she did get tickled, and when she was about to tip over that well known line between laughing hysterically and suffering a literal fit of giggles, and not being able to breathe, stomach pain, and panic, her scruffy-faced tormenter actually did pick her up to carry her to bed- only Christina was uncooperative. She ended up being carried predominantly by her butt, with her arms around the back of his neck and one bare leg trying desperately to hold around his waist so she wouldn’t fall, is if she were ever in jeopardy. He set her safely down on her feet near his bathroom door so she could make use of her new toothbrush, or wash her face, but the reigning World Cup champion just got into bed and asked for a t-shirt, since there was no chance she was sleeping in the sweatshirt in his already too hot room, engulfed in the too hot featherbed, covered with the too hot comforter, next to his too hot body.

Juan supplied one of his teeny tiny black tees but tried to stop her from actually putting it on. She intended to take the sweatshirt off, put the shirt on, and then unhook her bra and fish it out. He unhooked the two clasps on the strapless lace garment in one go before she even got the shirt over her head, and just rubbed her back when she turned to scold him in the other half of the bed. There was no act or game afoot. She didn’t really feel like cashing in on André’s understanding again that night. She still went pretty willingly when he used that hand on her back to try to pull her close, and she still let him kiss her with more invention than the prior liplock on the couch.

“Beautiful girl,” the player repeated from close enough that his nose was still touching hers.

“Not tonight, okay?” Christina didn’t move to stop him, or even to put some distance between them. She was still but for tilting her head a bit to kiss one side of his mouth apologetically. He closed his left arm around her waist to stop her from moving away anyway.

“Why?” he asked without disappointment. His nose glanced across her smaller one on his way to giving her another kiss, with his whole mouth.

“I’m tired, and I don’t like the optics,” she explained once given autonomy over her lips again.

“What optics?”

“The I don’t see you for a couple of weeks and the first thing I do is go out with you, spoon on your couch, and have sex optics. It’s like I was gone and busy for two weeks and then hurried to have a date or something.”

“Why do you care what it looks like? That’s like telling yourself what you want isn’t right. We’re the only ones who see. Shouldn’t you be more concerned with wanting it than how it looks?”

“But I don’t want it- that’s what I’m saying.” Oof now I feel bad, and awkward, Christina cringed to herself, imagining that her best friend felt as if he put in all the legwork throughout the night- taking her out, getting her drinks and dessert, suffering through her TV shows so they could cuddle and chit-chat, laying on the tender compliments, getting her to agree to spend the night- and wasn’t getting anything for it. “I’m sorry. I can still go home if you want.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Because you asked me to stay so we can fuck, and-“

“When did I say that?” The player reached for the top of her thigh with the hand that wasn’t on her waist. She was sort of half sitting Indian-style and half leaned over on her hands by his lap from his pulling her closer. He kneaded halfway between her knee and hip, and kissed persuasively at her mouth, which still opened a little for him despite her stated disinterest. The hair around his lips scratched and tickled against her skin. I feel almost a little like catnip, like when the cat gets the little bag of it and rubs his face all over it, but Juanin is slightly less intoxicated by it than a kitty gets. “Hmm?”

“What?” the expat managed to get out before his lips were trying to engage hers again. His tongue staying in its confines made communication, with words anyway, easier than it otherwise could have been.

“When did I ask you to stay so I can fuck you?”

“Why are you-“ Her opportunities to speak were still pretty limited by his slow and soft kissing, however. “Kissing me...and squeeze...my butt...if that’s not what you meant?”

“Why are you kissing me back if you meant not tonight?” the Spaniard questioned before poking his head out more to make sure his face stayed pressed to hers one way or another if she was going to sit up or pull back. Because she didn’t do either of those things, his lips hit hers with a bit more force and she read that as willful intent rather than a physical consequence. I should be more careful with what I say to him about liking when he’s in control, and that whole rape fetish thing. She finally checked out mentally on the smooching and Juan noticed. “We don’t have to have sex,” he assured, nonchalant and casual but still face to face- quite literally, really, with his forehead pushed into hers. “I want you to stay. I missed your body, baby girl- touching, holding, watching it. So beautiful. My angel. Come here,” he whispered while pulling her all the way over with him so they both ended up laying down- him on pillows and her on him. Soon she felt his warm and careful palm moving aimlessly around the small of her back, and the bottom of her butt lifted up. The constant kissing actually stopped. The scruffy face was pressed to her left cheek, and she could feel breath on the top of her shoulder in the form of a contented exhale. And she had no idea what she wanted, or if Juan literally meant he just wanted to touch her or if he was alluding to more than that and thought he could turn her on and change her mind by talking about it that way. Her soft and susceptible core could only withstand so many whispered “baby girls” and “my angels” before shifting.

“Why am I so beautiful tonight, hm?” she inquired, just to buy some time to figure out what she wanted. A little part of her conscience was afraid her best friend found her extra attractive that night because she was so obviously happy. When André told her she looked better happy it annoyed her and she counted it as a strike against him. And yet...I have 100% always found Juanin irresistibly hot when he’s really, really happy and smiley.

“You’re always beautiful.”

“Uhhuh.”

“I said already. I missed you, cariña. We sleep together like 4 times and then you don’t let me see you for 17 days.”

“Aww you counted,” Christina chuckled in his loving hold. She lifted her chin off the front of his shoulder to turn and smooch his cheek. “I can’t allow too much access, or demand will diminish.”

“I assure you it will not.”

“Seriously, and I don’t ask out of vanity, but curiosity- what to you is beautiful? Why is my body so beautiful to you? And don’t give me any bullshit about my abs making you think about my orgasms,” she warned while trying to figure out where to put her arms and hands.

“Your hair is beautiful. I love your hair when you do things with it. Every time you touch it. Your eyes are beautiful and you know it. Your nose, and your lips, and your chin- all beautiful together. Your thighs to me are amazing- the shape, the tone, the skin- all about them. The way you do everything is beautiful to me. You exist and I watch and you’re beautiful, cariña.” Juan explained, his delicate touch still roaming around some of her beautiful parts. He was a little bit flippant about his assessment, like he was amused that she wanted specifics. But most of all he sounded appreciative, and casual. He wasn’t trying to make a romantic declaration, or oversell his answer to make her want more.

“Thank you? Is that what a girl is supposed to say when you tell her her existence is beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re pretty too.”

“Thanks,” Juan laughed. He also moved both hands to her waist, spread them wide, and let them massage their way up her torso. She felt his legs circle around her knees too. It was not an unpleasant way to be immobilized. “Do you want your cashmere blanket to sleep with?”

“In lieu of the comforter or in addition?”

“Either.”

“Are you going to sleep in it with me if I choose in lieu?”

“Yes.”

“Is there jizz on it?”

“No,” the player scoffed. He turned to frown and shake his head at her, and took her poking finger prisoner. It had been poking at the dent in the base of his neck. Taking it was just an excuse to engage with her hand, and his digits were laced between hers a couple of seconds later. The whole concept of lying together and just touching and feeling made her curious again, but the second time it was about something that also gave her trepidation. She couldn’t help but wonder if her friend regularly shared the same activity with his girlfriend in that bed, and if he was so enamored with her body too.

“Do you stop Taylor from putting clothes on and hold her hostage atop your body just to...enjoy hers?”

“Why do you always ask me questions you don’t really want answers to, cariña?” Juan used his hold on her hand to bring it to his cheek, to press the back of it into his scruff and keep it there.

“Insatiable curiosity.”

“While I believe with all of my heart that you have insatiable curiosity, you and I both know that has nothing to do with it,” he scolded.

“If I say yes to the sex can I get out of the lecture you’re about to deliver?”

“No lecture. Take your beautiful body over to that chair and get your blanket.” In yet another surprising and impressive demonstration of the Spaniard’s ability to multitask, he simultaneously removed her hand from his cheek so that he could give it a little kiss, and let go of her side to pat her butt encouragingly. She got up to follow instructions and he got up to fold the comforter out of the way. He left it close enough that they could still tuck their feet under it. Christina wrapped herself up in the expansive navy James Perse blanket and then climbed clumsily over his body back to her spot. I kind of want to be held hostage aga- The thought was hardly complete before Juan invaded her blanket and made sure his also beautiful body was as close to hers as it could be. He rubbed his right hand up and down the outside of her left thigh- possessively almost- and then pulled her leg over his hip and let his palm rest further up, on her butt. The rider did her best to get some of her blanket over him.

“I need to set my alarm still,” she reminded while moving her head around to try to figure out where she was in relation to the nearest pillow.

“You need to talk with me more still.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Now I’m a hostage of him AND this blanket and its over my head and I can’t see and I don’t know where my pillow is and he’s making my thong go too far up my ass. Oh, there. Pillow.

“I like talking with you. I like when your voice is the last thing on my mind before I sleep.”

“Have I not been talking to you for the last 5 hours?”

“Yes.” The Chelsea player who moved one of his large square pillows for her so that they could share it settled in, seemingly for the long haul. He was very close inside the cashmere, and the enshrouding made it possible for Christina to pick up the faintest whiff of Scotch on his breath. It was sweet and woody, in contrast to the citrus and spice of the stuff André liked. It was hard not to think of the German in that situation. She loved that lingering whisky flavor when she kissed him.

“What else do you want to talk about?” Besides sex, my body, and kissing.

“Whatever,” her friend shrugged.

“Let’s talk about how Trump is going to start a war with Iran and we’re all gonna die.”

“Perhaps there is a more...light subject you could come up with for bedtime.”

“Talk to me about football.” Because the only thing mein Schü will tell me about football is how angry he is about it all the time, and I love hearing about football, and I’m annoyed that we’re right back where we were in footballing terms a year ago, only now we’re living in different countries and upending our lives for football. “And I’ll talk about it back. About Chelsea. England.”

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