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lizzygrantarchives · 12 years

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BBC News, January 27, 2012

Lana Del Rey has been praised, sued and vilified - all before her album hits the shelves. But the US star says she's more concerned by the global financial crisis than her critics.

Last year, with almost no fanfare, a song called Video Games popped up on YouTube.

An achingly beautiful piano ballad by an unknown singer, it had been rejected by almost every record company that heard it.

The song was too long, they said, too melancholy. And it needed drums if it was to get any radio play.

Lana Del Rey didn't believe any of them. She persuaded a tiny independent label to release the song, and created the promo clip at home on her MacBook.

Twenty-two million views later, she's got a major label deal, a contract with Next Model management, and is about to release one of the most-anticipated albums of 2012.

So who is Lana Del Rey?

"It was G, C, A," she recalls, absent-mindedly stretching her fingers into the chord formations. "It was D minor, A minor and some diminished chord as well. Some trick, some shortcut.

"I realised I could probably write a million songs with those six chords - so I moved to New York and I took a couple of years to just write whatever I wanted."

She had an early stab at recording an album - 2008's Lizzy Grant aka Lana Del Ray - which was made for $10,000 (£6,000) with Paul McCartney and Regina Spektor's producer David Kahne.

But it was never formally released, popping up on iTunes for two months in 2010 before quietly disappearing.

"I had signed to an independent label but they couldn't fund the release of it," says Del Rey.

"People act like it's so shrouded in mystery, the 'forgotten terrible album'.

"But if you look on YouTube, all 13 tracks are available with millions of views, so it's not like no-one's heard them.

"We were all proud of it. It's pretty good."

The singer recently bought back the rights to the record, and says: "I'm re-releasing it, maybe in late summer."

Cinematic

Her major label debut, Born To Die, refines the formula set out on that early material.

A sweeping epic of doomed love affairs and bruised glamour, it could be the lost soundtrack to a film noir.

Del Rey's vocals have a cinematic quality, too. One minute, she's a breathy femme fatale; the next, a languorous, sultry diva: Marilyn Monroe and Marlene Dietrich competing for control of the microphone.

In person, however, the singer is more down-to-earth.

Softly-spoken and doe-eyed, she comes from a close-knit family. Her left hand is tattooed with a capital letter "M" for her grandmother, Madeleine.

And while her lyrics revel in seedy romance ("he loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart") they were largely inspired by a single, happy relationship.

The affair was so all-consuming that Del Rey "let go of my musical ambitions" and "settled" into a life of domesticity.

In Video Games, she is completely smitten: "He holds me in his big arms. Drunk and I am seeing stars. This is all I think of."

"People talk about me being an anti-feminist because of that song," the singer says.

"They think it's coming from a place of submissiveness. But in reality it was more about coming together and doing your own things happily in the same living space."

The relationship eventually ended but Del Rey doesn't mind revisiting the memories.

"You should honour love, even when it's lost," she says.

"I've been separated from various things and people in my life that I wanted to stay close to. By staying calm and being strong, I was honouring the memory of those things and those people.

"I'm proud of that, and I continue to do that."

Legal troubles

After Video Games became a break-out hit last October, Del Rey was snapped up in a joint UK/US deal by Polydor Records and Interscope - the latter of which is home to Lady Gaga and Madonna.

"I got sued over the video for Video Games," Del Rey explains. "That was a bad day. A million views and it got wiped out."

The video had been cut together from faded, vintage footage the singer found on YouTube. She had assumed it was free. It turned out to be a legal headache.

"So now I have a specialist who reaches out to get permission when I make a video."

But there are also disadvantages to working with two of the world's biggest record companies.

Some of the people who championed Del Rey early in her career have turned their backs on the singer, accusing her of selling out.

To them, authenticity and pop are separate sides in an inexplicable and unwinnable musical cold war.

They have attacked her professionally, accusing her of not writing her own songs, and personally, claiming she's had plastic surgery.

"My publicists, in their long career, say they have never seen someone be more fictionalised," sighs Del Rey.

But the singer insists she's unfazed by the criticism.

"I know what people say about me and I'm not really that concerned, because those kind of problems I'm not really interested in.

"I'm concerned about the potential collapse of the euro, the state of the global economy. We have serious problems.

"Of course I hope the record does really well but, regardless of how things end up turning out, I'm not concerned about my future. I'll be OK."

Originally published on bbc.com with the headline Love, the law, and Lana Del Rey.

Interview transcript

So, last week I met up with Lana Del Rey, who was coughing and spluttering after cancelling her gig at London's Koko venue the night before. Demure and softly-spoken, she was absolutely charming. More homebody than homewrecker, despite whatever impression you may have received from her lyrics.

Our chat formed the basis for a BBC profile piece, which was published over the weekend. But I thought you might like to see a fuller transcript. So here it is...

Can you remember the first time you thought "I can write a song?"

I didn't really start writing until I was 18 and my uncle sort-of taught me six basic chords on the guitar. I realised I could probably write a million songs with those six chords - so I moved to New York and I took a couple of years to just write whatever I wanted.

That's quite a late start.

It's really late.

Had you been creative in other ways before that?

Yes, in some ways. I don't know if I'd say it was my focus. I never really thought about writing my own music but I did like to sing.

Do you remember the chords your uncle taught you?

It was G, C, A. It was D minor, A minor and some diminished chord as well. Some trick, some shortcut. When I learned F, which I assumed would be easy, I was like "fuck". F was just never going to happen. Four fingers? Never going to happen. It's too hard.

There isn't much guitar on the album. When did you switch to piano?

I didn't switch because I don't really play piano - unless it's a Wurlitzer and I'm sort of just holding sustained chords. On my first record, I played guitar throughout most of it. With this one, I started working with this guy Justin Parker who's never really done anything in pop music. I just started freestyling over his sustained, melancholic chords. And that was how, really, the second evolution of my style began.

You said you were always a singer... Where did that start? Do you remember singing with your family when you were young?

I remember singing with my mom and with my dad. There were musical children's movies, like Mr World and Raffi.

In my house, my sisters loved Grease.

We loved Grease, me and my sister. [Sings Summer Nights] They're really beautiful, those songs.

The movies that inspire you now come from a slightly darker place.

It's not my fault that my inspirations are dark. I'm not a very dark person, but I find that most great works of art verge towards darkness. My favourite movie is The Godfather II - the settings alone are just so epic. The same with film noir. It's not the darkness I'm attracted to, it's the fact that it's so beautiful. Visually stunning.

I'm interested in the montages you've made for your music videos. The clips you use don't really bear any narrative relation to the lyrics, so what makes you choose them?

I think they must share an aesthetic, or a mood. When I go to Germany and France, people always ask me about the Hollywood imagery - but when I started putting the movies together, I wasn't necessarily looking for clips of Hollywood. I was looking for vintage film from the 50s. I liked the texture and the colours of those films.

It's funny, when I was putting the montages together at first and showing them to people, nobody seemed to get it. They thought it was a very weird juxtaposition, verging on creepy. It's strange now that people think that it's a really cohesive package, because for a long time it seemed like a really disjointed project that I was alone in believing in.

Where do you find all those film clips?

YouTube. I steal them! But I have a copyright specialist that I work with, so she reaches out to get permission now. Ever since I got sued.

Really? Over which one?

Video Games. That was a bad day. A million views and it got wiped out.

You've got more than 25 million streams on YouTube now. You must get royalty payments?

I don't think so. Why aren't you on my team, honey? Where the fuck have you been?

Those viewing figures must translate into some kind of material value. I mean, there are adverts streaming before two of them.

What's the story behind Video Games?

I've been coming to London for a long time now, off and on. But I'd been coming for about 14 months before I wrote that song. I found one of my musical soulmates, Justin Parker. I just sat down with him and said "I'm tired of trying to be good and be noticed. I just want to write whatever I want to write." And he said, "then just write whatever you want to write". And he played out some sustained piano chords, and I leaned back and started thinking about one of my favourite times.

I usually draw inspiration back from the same few moments in my life, and so I started thinking back to when I was really happy in this one relationship and had just let go of my musical ambitions and... settled.

I was always a wanderer. I never stayed in one place for very long. I never thought I'd have the luxury of loving someone and being loved. I always hoped that that would happen and when it did, it really was what they talked about in the movies.

Geek question: What was the video game he was playing?

It was World Of Warcraft. It's actually an all-consuming game.

Did you play it, too?

He... Well, he wouldn't let me.

What was his character?

I think he played as a monster. You can't really see the character when you're in the game.

What I love about that lyric is that songs don't usually talk about the bits of relationships where you're just slobbing around the house doing your own thing.

People talk about me being an anti-feminist because of that song. They think it's coming from a place of submissiveness. But in reality it was more about coming together happily and doing your own things happily in the same living space.

What would you say the theme of the album is?

You should honour love, even when it's lost.

Is the relationship from Video Games over now?

In the end, we couldn't be together. When I've been separated from various things and people in my life that I wanted to stay close to, I felt pride in not sabotaging myself with fear. By staying calm and being strong, I was honouring the memory of those things and those people. I'm proud of that, and I continue to do that - try and live gracefully.

How difficult do you find that now that you're in the public eye?

I've lived a really quiet life for the last decade and I don't see that changing. I have a really big life outside of music. I have a really big family, I have friends, I have other work and I have my studies that I've continued to pursue.

What were you studying?

Philosophy.

Does the fact that this album is doing so well when the first one disappeared without trace make you suspicious of success?

Well, why would that make me suspicious? I guess I'm always wary that beautiful things that happen to me aren't for real. Really great things are rare. But maybe sometimes they're genuine.

What exactly happened with the first album?

People act like it's so shrouded in mystery - "the forgotten terrible album". But if you look on YouTube all 13 tracks are available with millions of views. So it's not like no-one's heard them. I was the only one signed to that independent label. They gave me $10,000 and I made a record but they couldn't fund the release of it. It's not like it was bad. We were all proud of it. It's pretty good.

Would you consider buying the rights back?

I already have the rights. I bought the rights upon my exit. I'm re-releasing it, maybe in late summer.

A lot of people have claimed you "re-invented" yourself after that record failed - but it's actually called Lizzy Grant aka Lana Del Ray [sic].

Exactly! It was never really a shift in persona, it was just the name of the music I was making. The name of the project. They're not even separate personas.

People don't spend a lot of time criticising Florence Welch because she doesn't have a machine.

[Almighty laugh] The way I've lived my life is so straightforward, it's ridiculous. I've been so clear and upfront about everything but most articles I see... My publicists, in their long career, say they have never seen someone be more fictionalised.

I know what people say about me and I'm not really that concerned, because those kind of problems I'm not really interested in. I'm concerned about the potential collapse of the euro, the state of the global economy. We have serious problems. Of course I hope the record does really well but, regardless of how things end up turning out, I'm not concerned about my future. I'll be OK.

Originally published on discopop.co.uk on January 31, 2012.

#2012 #Born to Die #BBC News #Mark Savage

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binch-i-might-be · 2 years

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okay I made the appointment (again) and it'll be literally so expensive with a deposit that's twice as much than I've ever paid and now I'm shitting bricks because what if I don't fucking like the design

#i've spent so much time communicating with these people and made more calls than should be legal and WHAT IF I DON'T LIKE IT #what if i don't like it!!!!! do i just say 'haha sorry no' or?????#oh my GOD #literally freaking the fuck out rn #rayrambles #ray's tattoo crisis

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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@hood-ex

Okay but re: the subject of wingfic.....picture this....His Dark Materials style AU where instead of kids having daemons who shapeshift until they settle, kids have wings that are constantly shifting and trying out new forms until they settle.

And maybe Dick’s generation is the first one to have this.....like, the DC multiverse is constantly having these universe-altering Crises, that are all metaphysical and unleash and reshape cosmic and universal creation energies....and early in Dick’s tenure as Robin, let’s say the DC multiverse undergoes a Crisis whose resolution has an unexpected side-effect.....at that point forward, teens begin manifesting their like, soul or whatever, in physical or metaphysical form, in the shape of wings.

They first pop up around when kids start entering puberty, and tend to settle around them kinda ‘finding themselves’ as adults....and we’re not talking just bird-type wings. Wings of any kind, any shape, any material. They’re described as ‘metanatomy’ not in the sense of metas having altered anatomy but more in the sense of how metaphysical relates to physical.....these wings don’t have to prescribe to any biological or anatomical rules because they’re not biological in nature. Kory’s people describe the wings as a child’s ‘over-soul’ - a manifestation of their fundamental, individualized essence that’s overlaid on top of their physical self.

So, many wings are bird-like in nature, physically capable of being touched, damaged, healed, etc....but just as many are batlike or dragon-like, they can be just wing-shaped and made of fire, they can be mechanical appearing or insectoid or pretty much anything. There was a period when Dick was around fourteen when his wings were just wispy wing-shaped stormclouds behind him, lightning constantly flickering up and down their lengths as though it were the wings’ veins.....another period where they were just giant sweeping shadows behind him that he could nevertheless fly with, and while he was Robin, they most consistently manifested as bright, gleaming swaths of luminescence that glowed as though they constantly had spotlights trained on them.

(Which had Bruce paranoid it would just make Dick an easy target, until they realized that a ‘side-effect’ of Dick’s wings when they looked like this was instead of making it easier for the bad guys to train their weapons on him, even the most hardened villains would find themselves hesitating to pull the trigger. Some kind of pulsating, emotion-laced effect of those wings drawing their attention was it was more like moths drawn to a flame....they were so busy being momentarily entranced or hypnotized by the spectacle of them that they were usually a second too late in actually firing....by which time Dick was in a position to strike them first. Well, at least that’s how it went until the Joker managed a lucky shot anyway. But then, when isn’t that asshole an exception to the rules?)

Some wings had little quirks or fringe effects that went with them taking on a certain form or appearance....though those didn’t tend to stick around when the wings shifted to a different appearance, unless a person’s wings settled in the shape a particular fringe effect was associated with. Like when Roy hit adulthood, his wings settled in the appearance of bright red feathered wings with black accents......his wings are fairly small and not suited for long range flight, or even flight in general, as they tend to be more useful in helping him glide in short, quick spurts. But they also come with a perk unique to him....when Roy uses his own feathers to fletch his arrows, those arrows never ever miss.

In adulthood, Donna’s wings settle as giant bird-like wings, all black feathers with silver specks of stars scattered all across them, same as her Troia costume. They’re like patches of night sky sliced straight out of the heavens, and when Donna’s in costume she’s impossible to see cutting through the dark. Her huge sweeping wings would cast an easily noticed shadow over the ground if not for the silver specks dotting her feathers, but thanks to those, by the time she’s close enough for you to make out her features, distinct from the night sky, its far too late to do anything but go oh fuck.

Wally’s wings are more of a presence than a visual. Hummingbird type things that match his speed but never manage his stillness. Beating at the air a furious several hundred wingflaps per second, so even when he’s standing still he’s far from motionless....the air around him thrumming with movement, humming with vibrations that make it look like he’s constantly surrounded by shimmering ribbons of heat baking off an asphalt pavement. And again, that’s when he’s just standing still. When he actually gets agitated, they hit the air like a thunderclap. Sparks shooting up from the points of contact as the friction of them is so fast and furious it ionizes the atmosphere around him all on its own.

Garth’s can be a bit unwieldy when on the surface, but in the water they make him glide faster and smoother than any Atlantean before him. Stretching out from torso to underarms like the wings of a manta ray, they’re black and gray and streaked with purple like his eyes and the tattoo around it, just inverted. The material of them thick and coarse enough that when he flings his arms out or wrapped around himself just so, the folds of his wings draped around him create a dense barrier capable of shrugging off any number of projectile impacts.

Vic’s are mechanical marvels, smooth and sleek metallic expanses that aren’t dissimilar to Marvel’s Archangel, but where Warren’s feathers are knife-like flechettes, Vic’s host a variety of sensory arrays and feed him all sorts of data. Gar’s never fully settle....they shift as often as he does, sometimes vast and feathered, sometimes batlike and leathery....always green though, and always there no matter what animal he shifts into. He’s never a snake so much as a feathered serpent, a pegasus instead of a horse, a manticore instead of a mere lion, and well, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen Beast Boy take to the streets of Manhattan as a T-Rex with giant pterodactyl wings. Why his wings never fully settle could be due to his shape-shifting or it could just be in his nature.....Gar’s the original Lost Boy who’ll never FULLY grow up.

Raven’s are purple and black on the outside but bone-white on the inside.....like her empathy, they cut both ways. When she pulls her wings tight around her and someone else like a protective shroud, they can shield her and those in her care from prying eyes and scrying magic....when she throws them wide and strikes out with them at enemies on either side, the touch of her feathers is like feeling the cold of the grave. Kory’s are a deeper, royal purple juxtaposed beside Raven’s shadowed inky violets.....but rather than feathered, Kory’s are tall and draconian, imperious and imposing canvases adorned with swirls of red and green like nebulas painted across a cosmic backdrop. Curling emerald flames lick around the edges of them just like her starfire sometimes dances through her hair.....even when ‘ablaze’ her wings are cool to the touch if she invites you to touch them, but touch them uninvited and you’re going to get burned. Badly.

Lilith’s are four enormous feathered wings of green and gold and black spread behind her like the many layered wings of a seraph. They’re decorated in various places with dark concentric circles like those found on peacock feathers....until those circles flare and open wide and you realize you’re staring at dozens of eyes that are all looking back at you.....each a window to your own soul, freezing you in place with a glimpse of your own darkest secrets or possible destiny.

Joey’s are many-hued mosaics, like wings made of stained-glass windows. Hazy and indistinct shafts of rainbow light slanting through his varied ‘feathers’ when he spreads his wings in the air behind him.....like viewing screens or windows they show glimpses, afterimages of everyone he’s ever joined his soul to when riding shotgun in their bodies.....making them forever a part of him, a link he can tap into at will and rendering his power less about possession and more about connection, a forever-door that lets him merge with one of his previously tethered-to teammates, no matter where they are in relation to him. But with the slight change that now what he makes up for in range, he loses in stealth, as his wings show up behind the body of his ‘host’ for as long as he remains merged with them.

And Dick’s wings finally settle in adulthood to sweeping feathered wings of blue and indigo banded with gold.....but where his presence is less attention-commanding than in his younger years, his impact is definitely felt. As his settled wings act as an epicenter for a kind of gravitational bubble around him that’s keyed to his mood.....when he’s lighthearted and in high spirits, everyone around him feels a little bit lighter, purely in a physical sense, gravity within his sphere of influence being a little less heavy, leaving his friends and teammates a little lighter on their feet, quicker in their reactions, etc, etc. When he’s feeling heavy though, his immediate environs feel it with him - though that’s not always the worst result when surrounded by enemies he’s better off having feel overburdened, weighed down, like they’re struggling to get to their feet and the air itself is sitting a little heavier in their lungs every time they take a breath.

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ussgallifrey · 3 years

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Mountain of the Sun [1]

✦ Summary: Sam has the shield at long last, Bucky has been seeing a new therapist, and you… you have a van and a desire to just get away from it all.

✦ Pairing: SamBucky x Non-Binary (AFAB) Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, brief implications of body dysphoria, brief mentions of chest binders, language, minor spoilers for TFATWS, post-TFATWS.

✦ Word Count: 7.5k

✦ Playlist: Here

There's something to be said about the ethereal feeling that comes with driving at night. How the blurring headlights mix with the stars. The way it stirs your soul and makes you feel something deeply sated in your bones.

What that exact thing is, however, you're not entirely sure. As you're currently downing the remnants of your second energy drink so you can move on to your gas station coffee and complimentary, slightly stale, chocolate frosted sprinkle doughnut.

It's nearing seven in the morning now and the tops of the trees are bathed in the golden rays of an earthy June sunrise. The windshield is appropriately covered in deceased mosquitoes that the wipers just can't quite reach to properly swipe away, so you know you're heading in the right direction at least.

The road has been relatively clear of other travelers thanks to the time of day and you managed to find a radio station that was actually in range to play a few miles back. The morning hosts are talking up some local story about a water skiing cat named Prince Reggie.

With the weather turning out to be pleasantly warm and the gentle thrum of the tires on the pavement, it was shaping up to be a good day. The coffee, however, is seriously lacking in all things taste.

You had made it all the way down to Charlotte, North Carolina after a late start, a deflated tire, and a series of last-minute snack runs. This was followed by an even later start yesterday afternoon when you decided there was nothing wrong with driving straight through the night to Louisiana.

Eleven hours now, a racing heart, and a body running mostly off of sugar and caffeine. You were doing great.

There's an ongoing list in your head as you travel further south, you see, of the many reasons why this is an act of insanity. It's followed by an accompanying list of why this is pure genius. They're both neck and neck at the moment, so the trophy is still up for grabs.

Hell, you know that reasonably this all seems like the final piece of the mental breakdown train. Spur of the moment body piercing, followed by the gender crisis, an almost tattoo, a drunken Tinder hook-up with someone who couldn't even remember your name while sober, and a cross-country road trip in a van you bought off a sketchy bidding website; check, check, and check.

Okay, so maybe things weren't going great. Maybe this was a cry for help. But who was judging at this point? Right?

Any higher being who gave a damn was probably just watching you and going we fucked it up, didn't we? We went around and fucked up a perfectly good human again.

Shoving the rest of the doughnut into the back of your mouth, you head onto the empty off-ramp.

Now, next to your should I just go to therapy or nah mental list, there was the actually kind of important - but still untitled as of yet - list. This one was composed on a physical piece of paper, written in metallic blue glitter ink, and it was slowly getting crossed off in red pen.

You were three Avengers down: Tony and Natasha were gone and Steve was full MIA after returning the stones.

Thor and the Guardians were somewhere in Europe or space, maybe, you think? And of course, the Royal family was back in Wakanda. Scott and Clint had families waiting for them. Parker was a literal child living with his aunt and returning to school, so he was good there.

Danvers was a beautiful woman of mystery and therefore stood no chance of being understood by the likes of you, so her name was also crossed off.

Bruce was a strange tall green thing now and you weren't touching that whole Hulk/human hybrid concept with a ten-foot pole. He was nice enough, sure. But like Tony had said to him, the band had split. Thanos destroyed the Beatles and that was that.

Strange was still, well, strange. And kind of a dick, actually. But he was safe and alive back in New York. Not exactly friend material though.

Wanda. Oh gosh, Wanda.

The two of you had stood for a long while after Tony's body was carried away from the torched earth - watching the smoldering remains of the compound you had both called home at one point. Nothing survived the destruction.

She didn't say much of anything then, or even after the funeral. But that vacant look in her eyes said enough. She went MIA after a week and you exhausted your search after three months. If she didn't want to be found, then there was nothing more to it. She knew where to find you if she really wanted.

With her name crossed out, however, that only left you with two people: Barnes and Wilson.

That last time you saw the super-soldier, prior to the battle upstate, was when he had his hands around your neck in federal custody in an attempt to X you out from existence.

And Sam, hell, you saw him from time to time when he was on the run with Steve and Nat. They told you Barnes was doing fine in Wakanda and no Tony hadn't reached out yet. Then they would loot your fridge for real food and maybe take a shower before jumping on the quinjet and going off-grid again.

It was because of Sam, however, that you even had a reason to be driving like this in the first place. Because after Tony's funeral, when it seemed like everyone gave their condolences to the grieving Starks and faded back into their own realities at an alarming rate, he found you by the waterfront.

Wanda had just walked away after a shared moment of quietly existing when he had come over to check on things. Had slipped a scrap of paper into your hands with an address and phone number after a quiet conversation that veered along the lines of purposefully careful small talk. Apparently, he offered this out to a few others in the group too.

But you had folded that paper up and shoved it into your pocket for a rainy day. And you had gone through the moments of trying to carve out a new life for yourself for a few months. It stayed in your wallet until a little less than a week ago when the crazy ideas started setting in.

The van, a converted church bus (according to the listing), putters at the four-way stop, just outside of the village limits. You lick the leftover frosting from your index finger.

The seller had been a slightly distraught man with a giant red beard named Preston. He had just bought it and fixed it up after living in a daze of am I really staying at his corporate job when life has been turned upside down for the last four years. Finally decided to go live his true self after the Blip by quitting his job on the spot. And then, surprise, everyone was brought back and his wife was alive and now he didn't want to travel across the western hemisphere in a Ford E350 that he called Merle.

But that turned out alright for you. Now you had the chance to live out your existential crisis in peace.

A faded metal sign greets you as you manage to roll the beast - you were calling her Hildegard, currently - forward. You decide to stop singing along to the classic rock station on your radio as you drive down the main street after catching the attention of a few locals.

The sailors say, "Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl) // "What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl) // "But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea."

According to Google Maps, the address was the last drive at the end of a gravel road with a No Outlet sign peeking out from behind a wall of tall weedy grass. And the white-painted mailbox's house number confirms you're in the right place.

The turning radius is actually shit, but you try not to fault her - she's a big girl, after all. Just like you try not to fault the anxious uptick in your racing heart - not directly caused by coffee and energy drinks, thanks.

Towering trees line the dirt path, and with the driver's side window rolled down (hand crank, of course), you can hear the insistent buzzing of more mosquitoes. And the air that whips through the opening seems far more humid than what you would like for this early in the day.

Those thoughts are quickly disrupted by a sharp clang and bang in the distance. You turn the stereo's volume dial down low to see better.

The driveway finally gives way to an open clearing that must constitute as a front yard.

Switching into park, you pull the cluttered keychain into your center console. A cursory glance at your reflection in the rearview mirror and a reluctant good as we're gonna get after that drive before you get the nerve to hop out. The door slamming behind you draws the attention of the two men a few yards away.

Everyone takes a moment to stare at each other before Bucky calls out your last name with obvious confusion. Sam grabs the flying boomerang of a shield and tucks it against his side before smiling wide.

"The hell are you doing here?" his voice booms.

You laugh, striding forward and away from the safety of the van. The unknown was always nerve-wracking. But so was getting removed from existence and being replanted into it, so all things considered talking to two ex-teammates wasn't that awful on the scale of things that made you go ick.

"You gave me your address, remember?"

Bucky wipes his sweaty brow with the bottom of his gray tank. When you take another look at him, you realize the man is actually barefoot.

Blinking at the shocking paleness of his feet against the rich green grass, you barely even hear him playfully say, "Hey, no autographs, all right?"

Sam brushes past him with a good-natured chuckle, "Pay the living fossil no attention."

He pulls you into a tight, one-armed hug. A little too tight and too sweaty for your comfort - particularly around the chest area, but who could deny him when he was smiling like that?

"So," he holds the shield just right - he's really stepped into the role, hasn't he?

"What're you doing my way?"

You give a little scoff, plucking at a loose thread on the hem of your shirt, "I'm on an adventure. But I should be asking Barnes the same thing, right? Aren't you supposed to be under full-time surveillance in Brooklyn, Sergeant?"

Bucky finally walks over, sweat still beading up on his new, shorter, haircut. You can't decide if it's the right look for him or not.

"It's good to see you too, kid."

They both seem to be taking a moment to appraise your appearance. It's stellar after a full twenty-plus hour drive and a mix of chaotic sleep and quick caffeine fixes. The humidity's really doing wonders for your hair and underarm sweat too.

"You hungry?" Sam asks after a beat.

Ignoring the three new mosquito bites on your right arm, you nod eagerly.

"Good, we were just finishing," Bucky makes to grab for the water bottle at the trunk of a nearby tree when Sam clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

"Like hell we are. Got another three sets, Buck," he has his arms crossed and everything. But you're more caught up on the fact that he just called him Buck.

Bucky shrugs his head towards you, "Yeah, and you got a guest. Be hostly and feed 'em."

The other man shoots him a look before tilting his head in your direction with a warm smile.

Sam's got a beige hand towel tossed over his left shoulder as he scrubs at the plates in the sink. The house is just full of life, that's the best way to put it.

A line of shoes by the door and pictures and knick-knacks galore. Kids' drawings and a record cabinet in the living room. Nautical-themed decor everywhere you look. It's a little jarring, to be honest. Considering where you were living up until three days ago in a threadbare studio in Hell's Kitchen.

It's good though. Between the baseball game playing on the slightly staticky radio and the quiet chatter of two younger boys just down the hall, it's nice.

Bucky points at the piercing on your nose, mouth full of a raspberry scone.

"That's new."

You nod, scooping up the last bite of syrup-drenched pancakes with your fork, "It is."

"It hurt?" he's got a smudge of the red fruit filling on the corner of his lip that he's completely oblivious to.

A shrug, "Not too bad."

He hums in reply and shoves the rest of the pastry into his mouth. Licking his fingers absentmindedly as he peruses the local newspaper. He makes it all the way to page three before he rests his arms on the table and looks back at you.

"What exactly is that thing out there?"

You can see the aquamarine paint of your van just through the kitchen window.

"My van."

His eyebrows kind of scrunch and raise up at the same time, as if trying to entertain the idea, "That's new too?"

With a smirk, you reply, "Her name's Hildegard and she's a beautiful woman."

Sam snorts over at the sink.

Bucky cranes his neck to look out the kitchen window, tilting back on his chair legs, "That thing's a tank."

"A majestic tank," you add, stealing the newspaper from under his hands. The Ask Alice section is of particular interest.

Dear Alice, my husband claims he is of Asgardian descent and has been trying to do "feats of strength like his brother Thor." He keeps throwing his back out and insisting it's fine. Help. What should I do? It's just embarrassing at this point.

"Has a bed, a kitchen, and everything," you continue as you glance up from the advice column.

Bucky drops his chair back down on all four legs and squints real hard, "Are you living in that thing?"

You bristle at his annoying stupidity and coolly counter, "Are you really couch surfing with Captain America?"

Sam bends over in a silent laugh, managing to turn off the sink, but still needing the counter to support him while he gathers his composure. After a long moment, he walks over and plops down into the high-back chair next to yours - tossing the damp dish towel onto the other man's head.

Bucky, unfazed, tilts his head back enough to where the towel is covering everything but his mouth, "You need money? Need Mr. America to make things better? A freedom fund or something?"

Sam kicks him under the table and Bucky just laughs in defeat, snatching the towel off his head and stalking over to the counter for a banana.

You eye Sam with a heavy breath of frustration. He, in return, drops his large hand on top of yours. It's warm and comforting and all-encompassing of a distant memory where things were far more normal.

"Come on. Tell Cap how much you need," his sudden shit-eating grin makes you groan and want to clobber him at the same time.

Pulling your hand away, you futilely kick the leg of his chair - it doesn't even budge for your annoyance, "I hate you both. I don't even know why I came here."

"Admit it, you missed this," Sam says with a teasing smile.

You shake your head, dropping your face into your hands, "I must be a masochist."

Bucky chokes on his banana.

The couch is surprisingly comfortable. Bucky was even kind enough to fluff his favorite yellow throw pillow for you to nap on. The crash was inevitable after eleven hours on the road, you knew that much.

But even then, you don't stir until well into the heated amber afternoon. You try to act surprised by that fact.

The house is too loud. With all the things still in it, but now without the familiar sounds from the morning. There's a puttering fan, rotating in the corner of the room. A pink crocheted blanket had been draped on you at some point. And it's not lost upon you that the curtains in the room have been drawn shut as well.

But the perpetrators are nowhere to be found. Sam's nephews must be out too because there's not even a sound coming from upstairs. It's just your unsteady breathing and the rotating fan puttering away.

Your skin crawls with the heat of a closed room on a summer day. The tassels of the blanket tickle your exposed knee as you sit up, enjoying the crack and roll of your shoulders as you stretch.

But the silence just drags on.

When things are this quiet and you're left alone with your own thoughts, you really just want to claw your own skin or run far away. See: leaving New York in a camper van because the feels were hitting too hard in your lonely apartment.

That's why you find yourself gasping for air on the front porch only a minute later. At least you can breathe deeper without your binder on.

The summer air has cooled off from the humidity of the morning and there's enough of a breeze to rustle the trees and cool your heated skin. You're thankful you had the foresight to shuck off your button-up shirt before you passed out as the wind rolling off the lake feels amazing on your bare arms.

It doesn't take you long to spot them from your position on the porch steps.

They're holding back some obvious gibs when you walk down to the dock where they're fishing. Probably some choice words about oversleeping and caffeine addiction just waiting on the tips of their tongues.

You take a seat on the blue cooler behind them.

You're not entirely sure when this happened. This being their obvious friendship.

Probably somewhere between the government taking the shield and Sam taking it back for himself. You caught some glimpses on the news and a few candid shots on Twitter to get a basic picture of the situation. The Walker/Wilson discourse was still burning hot online. You tried your best to scour for the facts and not the obvious propaganda/blatant racism.

They're quietly bickering about something to do with Bucky's cast line. Sam keeps telling him to hush up cause he's gonna scare away the fish. And Bucky just keeps retorting the fact that he knows what he's doing, thanks.

It's funny to see it though. Even as they argue, Sam keeps his ribbing tighter than he used to, a little gentler and softer style of teasing. And Bucky keeps glancing Sam's way as if he's waiting for things to fall apart again.

You feel like an intruder.

Drawing your arms across your chest, now feeling the difference in the way your shirt sits against your torso, "I'll be out of your hair by tonight, Sam."

He laughs, gives a nonchalant alright. Then whips his head back towards you after the words hit him. Rod dropped down at his side and eyes wide.

"Yeah? Where you gonna go?"

Bucky's turned around now too. You squeeze yourself tighter. Even outside you can feel things getting too close and you're not actually referring to the blood-sucking insects for once.

"Not sure yet. But if you wanna tell me where the nearest gas station is, I'll get going."

Sam blindly shoves his rod into Bucky's vibranium hand and crosses over to you, crouching down to your level.

"Yeah, that's not what's gonna be happening. You're staying for dinner and breakfast in the mornin'. And like hell I'm gonna let you drive out of here before I look over that beast in my drive."

Bucky mimics behind him, "Her name is Hildegard and she's a beautiful woman."

Sam catches the glimpse of mischief in your eyes and knowingly ducks to the side as you send a wave of white energy at Bucky, knocking him backwards into the water with a shocked holler. He bobs up after a moment, hair plastered to his forehead, sputtering out lake water, and swearing like a true soldier.

Sam claps you on the shoulder with a barking laugh, barely dodging the arm that flies onto the dock as Bucky attempts to drag him down into the water with him.

Sarah just rolled her eyes when the two of them appeared on the back porch, soaking wet. Throwing them towels through the door before locking it back up.

She refused to allow them in until she had her food safely tucked away in the oven for dinner - because Sam doesn't know how to do it right she had said. Apparently, their momma's mac and cheese recipe was sacred and Sam always had the habit of fucking it up.

The kitchen was lively again - once they air-dried on the back porch and were allowed back in, but Bucky found the head chef annoying as hell and had relocated himself to the Mario Kart game in the living room with Sam's nephews. From the sounds of it, he was either winning by a large margin or losing very badly to the preteens.

Sarah had made a brief reappearance as she grabbed a drink from the kitchen - said something gruff to her brother about the way he was minding the food and his lack of seasoning. To which Sam told her to do her casserole and leave the damn chicken to him.

She gave him a good punch in the arm for that before heading to the back office to go over the day's work reports.

The prep time is speeding by as the lake reflects the brilliant pinks and purples of sunset. The anxiety that had been building up in your body since the crash nap has started to dissipate as Sam's soft humming soothes your mind.

Despite your assigned task, you can still feel him lingering over your shoulder with a watchful eye.

"If this isn't to your standards, I'll just get out of here like Bucky," you suggest with a slight bite to your tone.

Sam takes a warning step closer, breath warm against your bare neck, "Shut it. You got it going just fine."

He returns to the oiled skillet on the stove, giving his tongs a few test clicks, as you dredge another chicken thigh through the seasoned flour mixture.

"Yeah, well your invasion of my personal bubble was making me think otherwise."

He makes a strained chuckle, "If I didn't want you here, you'd know."

You turn your head in time to catch the warm look in his eyes that he's directing your way.

"Long as you need," he adds after a beat of time.

You let that settle in your mind for a while. The open gesture you didn't know you were so desperately craving after eight months of near isolation.

The rest of the prepping goes well enough, except for Bucky sneaking out to stick his finger in the cornbread batter while Sam had his back turned. But the two hours of working in a hot kitchen is made worth it when you all sit down and tuck into pure heaven.

You have to bite back a moan as you help yourself to another serving of macaroni, "This is amazing, Sarah."

Sam's brows raise quickly. Grabbing a breaded drumstick from the serving plate he points it at you before adding it to your plate, "Yeah, well you should be eating this because it's delicious."

Bucky's dutifully eating his collards when he conspiratorially leans over towards you and mock whispers, "Someone's jealous."

"Someone's gonna get their fancy arm messed with is what's up."

The boys laugh and Sarah doesn't do much to dissuade them from it. Somehow, you end up with another thigh on your plate, but all of your cornbread has mysteriously migrated over to a certain super soldier's plate in the meantime.

Afterwards, you're on leftover duty - stuffing the last bits of food into old Country Crock butter dishes. Bucky was forced into dish duty but has been taking great joy in splashing Cass - who is on drying duty - while his older brother is trying to put everything back in the cupboards as fast as possible.

"So," he calls over the chaos of the younger boys. "Was this on your adventure itinerary?"

You give a quiet laugh as you seal the lid on the leftover casserole.

"Sure was," doing the careful balancing act as you walk to the fridge with five containers stacked in your hands. It takes some finagling, but you get your pinky around the handle and manage to get the door open without dropping anything.

"I always wanted to see superheroes perform great acts of domesticity," you say with your head in the fridge.

He's got a plate held just out of reach from Cass, who's not interested in playing his stupid you want it? come on and jump for it game, "Huh, if you stick around you might catch Sam doing laundry later."

"Oh," you close the fridge and rest against the door. "A dream come true!"

Bucky smiles, wide and true and - most importantly - genuine. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, but it's gone just as fast as it appeared. It leaves you wondering, later in the shower, just when James Barnes got his personality back online.

You're still musing the change from the soldier on the battlefield eight months prior when you walk out onto the back porch - drying your hair with an old cotton T-shirt. The lanterns emit a golden hue on the patio seating, while the lights from the dock across the lake and the stars in the purple midnight sky dance and flicker off the water.

"Finally got that driving grime off, huh?" Sam's nursing a beer in one of the seats.

You can just make out the outline of Bucky down by the dock, near a grove of lightning bugs.

Draping the damp shirt over your shoulders, you take a seat in the chair next to him, "Feel like a new person - thanks, by the way."

He waves his hand in a no big deal motion before taking another drink.

With a flick of your wrist, the misty white energy you're able to conjure floats through the air, down the opposite side of the table where the cooler rests. You nab the returning beer from the air, taking a refreshing sip after you pry the cap off on the table edge.

Sam watches with an amused expression. With a humming question from you, he just shakes his head.

" 'm literally right here. You could've just asked for one."

With a smirk now playing on your lips, you set the bottle down. Condensation already beading up along the sides in the summer night air.

"What's the point of having powers if I only ever use them to beat up baddies? I mean, you never think about taking the wings out when you need to go to the store?"

He knocks his head back in a laugh, "No, I don't think about using my suit to transport my ass to the Walmart."

"Pssh," you chastise. "Gotta start thinking outside the box, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy," he points an annoyed finger at you that only has a tiny ounce of real anger behind it.

Your hands go up in a show of defeat and he has the audacity to smile at it.

A pleasant moment stretches languidly between you as he finishes his drink and you ultimately find yourself watching Bucky skip rocks along the shoreline. It's a moment you want to sink your teeth into and really savor the feeling of.

To just sit and be with friends again, it's proving to be calming and upsetting all at once.

The table used to be larger and far more crowded. There was pizza and bickering over who ordered what. Steve would try to delegate and Thor would have snuck off with a whole box of Meat Lovers Supreme for himself. Tony would be trying to ridicule whoever got the pineapple and anchovy atrocity. It seems like a lifetime ago when things were that kind of stable.

"You gonna talk about it?"

Sam, with his knowing brown eyes, watches and observes and reads you like a book.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You steady yourself with a breath and lean forward on the plastic tabletop.

"Not sure how you were handling all this… post-Blip stuff. But, I don't know. I just got this urge to go do something a few weeks ago. You get removed from existence and you get a new appreciation for life, I guess."

He hums softly, "I was just a stop along the way?"

Squinting at his interpretation, you shake your head, "More like a starting point. You know, you two are the last ones on my list that I could get a hold of? Everyone else just… ping, ping," you mimic tiny explosions with your hands.

"They have their own lives to go back to living and the original crew is basically no more. Compound's under new management - " Sam snorts at that, " - and I was just feeling…" don't say lonely, don't say lonely, "... nostalgic."

By now, Bucky's started to wander back up to the house, though his face is still shadowed by the limited natural light from the stars.

"I don't know, Sam. New York just felt - " you rub your forehead with the palm of your hand as a headache decides to start forming for your troubles.

" - it felt too big and too small. Everyone was gone and I think I was just existing up until a week ago. And I just wanted to get back to living."

Bucky approaches, hesitating at the edge of the patio for a moment before Sam beckons him over with the jerk of his head.

"I want to see the world and do normal touristy things. Get lost and end up at a weird-ass landmark. Eat the greasy diner food. Camp out under the stars. Just more than sitting around waiting for the next big thing to come knocking. Cause if I stayed up there any longer, I was gonna lose it."

The super soldier drums his fingers on the table for a moment, having only caught the tail end of your confessional.

"Where you heading after this?"

You give a hapless shrug, "West."

He nods, though his face looks entirely uncertain.

"And is this a finding yourself solo personal journey trip or…?"

His lips curl up into a smile when you tilt your head back to laugh.

Finally removing the T-shirt from where it had been resting on your shoulders, you shuck it over into the empty chair between you and Bucky. The air feels cool along your skin now and you almost wish you had grabbed an overshirt from your bag.

"I mean, I'm not planning to grab any hitchhikers, but I'm open to some travel buddies.

Sam smirks, "Someone's gotta keep you from blowing that thing up."

The shocked gasp you make only furthers to spur them on.

"What?" he admonishes, "I heard that engine run. You either got old oil, the wrong oil, or no oil in it. Not to mention," he's now leaning forward and pointing at you with each listing.

"Your back tires aren't the same as the front ones. Your exhaust pipe is hanging on by a thread. And I bet you anything that the AC ain't working either."

Bucky gives a low whistle.

Leaning back in your chair, you cross your arms, "Well damn, Samuel. Give me the number for a mechanic already."

"Like hell, I will."

He stands abruptly, his chair screeches as it's pushed back along the woodgrain of the porch. And then he's walking, in the dark, to where your van is parked.

"C'mon," he calls.

Bucky shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile, before following after him.

You keep the swear on the tip of your tongue to yourself as you shoot a beam of white light their way, illuminating the path for them.

It's almost one in the morning and Sam's got his arms covered in grease. Bucky's taken great joy in exploring the interior of the van. Poking and prodding at every little thing: the bobblehead on the dashboard and the beads hanging from the rearview mirror, a collection of crystals on a tiny shelf, the three potted succulents over the counter.

He digs through your pile of snacks on the passenger seat and grabs the unopened bag of gummy worms for himself to snack on as Sam tells you to start the engine again.

By the time your personal mechanic has moved under the van to explore a possible hole in the lines and pipes, Bucky has plopped himself down on your bed. He's finished browsing through your small collection of books now, having exhausted himself with perusing your belongings.

You had dropped down the mosquito nets at the open doors - held on by magnets so the little bloodsuckers weren't getting in - and turned on the fairy lights along the top of the cab for some ambiance.

"This is nice," he murmurs, head resting on the single decorative throw pillow.

Perched on the small kitchenette counter next to him, you give a genuine, "Thanks."

After all the teasing they had given you about the van, it was nice to finally hear a bit of praise on something you were actually proud of. He lifts his head enough to catch your expression, his blue eyes soften.

"She's a beautiful woman."

That makes you snort with laughter, slightly drunk on beer and exhaustion. You can hear Sam tapping on something beneath you, followed by a sharp swear, and the general buzz of bugs congregating by the glowing white orbs in the lawn.

Bucky, after tossing the empty bag of candy up into the tiny sink, scooches over on the bed, messing up the blue and gold striped blanket you had bought at a flea market in Virginia.

He extends his right arm out to you, "C'mere."

And after a moment, "I mean, it's… it's your bed and all. You look tired, kid."

Your mouth quirks up into a little smirk as you catch the faint blush on his cheeks.

"Damn right it is," you affirm before plopping down next to him, face down.

You can still smell the detergent you had used on the bedding. But it's mixed with something musky and masculine. Shampoo or deodorant or sweat, you're not sure.

When you manage to pick your head up, you're met with the dark treeline through the open back doors, though the gentle golden twinkle of your battery-powered interior lights makes it swirl and shift. Your head feels heavy as you rub your face against the blanket, head nudging something solid and warm off to your side.

"Should come with me," you find yourself saying. "Both of you. I like you guys. It'd be fun."

You feel more than hear Bucky's laugh as it reverberates through the mattress, "That so?"

Humming in agreement as your eyes fail to open, "Be like that family. The singing one on tv, with that one song."

Bucky rolls to face you, probably catching on to the fact that you're seconds from sleep. But he keeps going, "We're gonna be singing?"

You're lazily humming the theme song or maybe it's that one hit about thinking about loving someone.

"The Partridge Family, right?" Sam's voice is like honey as it drips down your body. He's close but somehow so far away.

"The what?" Bucky asks softly, a smile clear in his voice.

You can hear Sam's feet on the floorboards because that one spot by the sink always creaks.

"Doesn't matter, c'mon and shut it. Sleeping Beauty's almost out."

You shake your head against the blanket, welcoming the warmth that's there radiating on your right side.

" 'm not, jus' sleepy."

Someone teases you with a gentle sure you are.

Things get really hazy after that point. You can hear them talk in low tones about air filters and new carburetors and how bad the oil in the engine was. Something even softer yet about bags and a break and it wouldn't be a bad idea if we just…

But you're still wrapped up in something comfortable and warm and it doesn't take much at all to finally push you over the edge into a deep dreamless sleep.

When you wake to the gentle rays of the morning sunrise streaming in through the windshield, you find that there's a body radiating pure warmth curled up along your back. You can smell the motor oil and faint tinge of Irish Spring soap. Sam sleeps facing away from you, his arms curled around one of your pillows, breathing slow and easy.

After lifting your head up and shaking out the tired brain fog from your mind as you stretch, you also catch the sleeping super soldier sitting in the rotated driver's seat with his feet kicked up onto the fold-away table, snoring softly. His boots are haphazardly thrown on the floor next to Sam's, joined by an open tool bag and a pile of grease-covered rags.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed, sparring Sam a final longing look before shuffling across the floorboards and hopping out onto the cool dew-covered grass without waking either of them up.

The house is quietly buzzing to life with a wafting aroma of fresh coffee and something sweet lingering in the air.

"Morning," Sarah greets gently. Her back is turned as she loads up a cooler with food.

"Good morning," you offer back with a stifled yawn.

She turns her head to give you a once over before pulling a clean mug from the cupboard - moving her things over on the counter to give you access to the coffee pot, which you are seriously grateful for.

That's how the guys find you, not even twenty minutes later. Nursing the purple mug with a baby photo of Sam printed on it, and getting along way too well with his sister for his liking.

After Bucky stopped snickering and Sarah grabbed the boys and headed into work, Sam rolled his eyes and snatched away the mug and tossed it in the sink. It took you a solid minute to stop laughing as he tried his best to act unfazed.

Later that morning, after Sam directed you to the local auto shop where he picked out new tires and talked to the mechanic for nearly an hour about the guy's family, and only after he gave the van his official seal of approval, did you return to the house.

The doughnuts you had grabbed on the way weren't anything in comparison to the breakfast Sam had whipped up the day before. But his easy smiles and gentle quips were just as nice.

He pointed out different stores and houses and a grove of trees that him and his sister used to play in. Having to circle the lake to get back, he convinced you to stop by the dock where the family business is up and running.

Sarah and the boys are hard at work as he glides over and easily picks up some crates to load the boat. You find yourself helping AJ with the buckets of ice, having to haul them across the dock from the interior storage building for the cold tables.

"... might be good for you, after all this," Sarah says to her brother, walking back to the boat.

Sam's got his hands in his pockets, face nearly unreadable in the morning light, "That's what he kept saying last night too."

"Well, if you got Barnes tellin' you to do something…" their conversation trails off when they enter the cabin.

About an hour later, Sam's striding over to you - wiping his hands off on a rag. You've been helping with the cash box in their absence.

"Didn't mean to get you stuck working."

Lulling your head to the side, you offer him an easy smile, "I don't mind. It's a good change of pace."

"Yeah," he leans back against the plastic table. The sleeves on his white button-down are rolled up to his elbows.

"Slower pace is good sometimes."

You find yourself nodding in agreement, "Can't spend every day chasing bad guys."

He's quiet for a moment, gaze focused on the bright blue water of the lake. And then he slaps your shoulder with the back of his hand, a smile back in place.

"C'mon, before Buck tries to steal my wings again."

You blink.

"Wait, what'd you mean again?"

Chasing after him, back to the van, he grabs the driver's seat for himself. You don't mind too much as you hop into the passenger's side and toss him your giant keychain.

Holding it up by the Kirby squeeze ball, he gives you a long hard look.

"The hell is this?"

You offer him the look he deserves for such a dumb question.

"My keys," you spell it out for him.

He has to shuffle through them before he finds one with the Ford logo, "For what? Every room of the compound?"

"Hmm," you shake your head with a small laugh, "something like that."

Sam has the wisdom to say nothing further, kicking the old girl into drive and heading back to the house.

Bucky's lounged out on the front porch steps, working through something in a journal, when you pull up to the house. He tucks it into the duffle bag behind him and walks over just as you both get out.

"Sounds better," he offers.

Sam grins, "We got a hell of a deal with it."

"Superhero discount," you tease as you join them by the driver's side door.

"New tires, good oil, and a new air filter. We're in business."

You catch the slip of the tongue there with the we're instead of the you're and you try not to get too hung up on the idea of it.

"So," Bucky rocks back on the heels of his boots, "you heading out?"

They both look to you, faces pinched and torn between indifference and distraught.

"Well, if I'm bugging you too much then yeah, I'll get going," the teasing tone falls flat.

Bucky rolls his eyes with an easy laugh, " 's not what I meant and you know it."

"In that case," you shuffle your sneakers on the grass as you work yourself up to say goodbye. "Then yes. I wanna get on the road before nightfall."

Sam gives Bucky a look before stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, "Still looking for some company?"

Blinking, you stare at him - trying to find the joke in his features, "You serious?"

"Could use a break," Bucky smoothes.

You look between the two of them, unsure, and not wanting to get your hopes up, "You're for real?"

They nod, humming in affirmation. Sam has his arms full of you in a hot second of bubbling joy as you fawn over the two of them for agreeing to something that was actually crazy.

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta keep an eye on you two," Bucky teases as he grabs the two duffle bags from the porch steps.

He had packed. He had packed bags for the two of them because they wanted to hop in that van and go somewhere with you. It almost made you want to cry. You missed this.

Sam returns with a solid lock box and a circular leather bag that you have a pretty good idea of what it's containing.

"You never know," he shrugs as he passes them along to Bucky in the cab.

He's got the bags stored in the empty space under the bed, but seems hesitant to put the shield too far out of reach.

You can't believe your luck here. Hopping up into the driver's seat, you start the engine and your baby purrs.

"This is going to be amazing," you announce, nearly shaking with excitement.

Bucky clicks into the third seat, just behind yours, after shoving the shield into the space between his seat and the small shelving unit, "Or the worst idea ever."

Sam laughs, having claimed the passenger seat for himself.

"Maybe a break ain't such a bad idea, Buck."

"Yeah, Buck," you tease as you kick her into drive and turn in the small circle of the drive.

"Live a little!" you say to him over your shoulder, cranking the radio up as you head down the driveway at a speed that's much faster than necessary.

Your backseat driver gruffly swears in another language as Sam starts belly laughing next to you. The sun is shining and the breeze is perfect as you pull out onto the main road.

Sooner or later, love is gonna get ya // Sooner or later, girl, you got to give in // Sooner or later, love is gonna let ya // Sooner or later, love is gonna win.

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#sambucky x reader #sambucky x nonbinary!reader #marvel fan fic #series: mountain of the sun #my fic

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takaraphoenix · 3 years

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oooh KANVERS if youre still playing

Yeees, I am still playing! This game's fun xD

OKAY SO. The thing about Kanvers was that it was flirty af.

I mean. Kara used her x-ray vision just to check out Kate's tattoos. That's. That's gay, girl. That's very gay.

And, the bigger thing was for me that Kate came into the story just when Kara needed someone like her. Supergirl was really not going well for her, personally, what with her former best friend manipulating and using her and overall treating her like shit. And I mean, goodness, she's the lead. She deserved so much better than that.

And then they brought Kate back in the Crisis and she was exactly what I had hoped for Kara in that moment in Kara's story. She got Kara's back, she listened to her, she trusted her - well, they trusted each other, I mean, Kate just straight up took off her mask because Kara was like "yes these people are okay".

And just how happy Kara got when she realized that Kate was now on the same Earth as her? Sure, she was pleasantly surprised when her and Barry - Barry, who was her first friend from Earth-1, who is her oldest friend from that Earth - but the reaction that she had to Kate?

Look at the way she bounces, that bright smile, the slapping of Barry and continnued bouncing? THAT is a woman in love who realizes her long-distance relationship won't be that long-distance anymore and y'all can fight me on that.

They had very limited shared screentime, more limited due to Covid and then due to Ruby quitting as Batwoman, but goodness the shows did so well at establishing their dynamic in such a short time.

I will absolutely love them forever.

Send me a ship and I will explain why I do or don't ship it

#Kanvers #DC Comics #Batwoman #Arrowverse #Ship Ask Game #send me asks #Supergirl TV

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everamazingfe · 3 years

Text

Magic in the Mundane

Fic Summary: Everyone had something special about them, their own personal bit of magic. Most found out about their abilities early, but Gavin had always been a bit of a late bloomer. Luckily, Michael comes by to help him put the pieces together.

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Words in this chapter: 5521 Pairings: Gavin Free/Michael Jones Warnings for this chapter: None

Notes: Written for Kait (@uy8hg) for the RT Writer’s Discord Secret Sunshine event! All of her prompts were amazing and I spent far too long trying to decide between them, but I'm so glad that I decided to go with this one because it was so much fun to write. Check the source for a link to read it over on A 0 3!

Prompt: Someone discovers a new power or something that they find really cool, and they want to show it off to everyone else, with varying levels of success.

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In a world full of wonder, it wasn’t always easy to appreciate the beauty in the mundane, but those who had magic running through their veins found it quite simple. The way that magic would manifest itself in those people wasn’t always the same, though. Sometimes, the magic was in their personality. Jack had a warmth about him that could make anyone’s day better in a matter of seconds. Trevor’s charisma was off the charts, he was such a smooth talker that it was hard for anyone to dislike him unless they really tried. Other times, it was in their looks. Alfredo had a smile that could light up any room, big and beaming and bright enough to outshine the sun. Geoff had amazingly artistic tattoos that seemed to come alive if one looked at them a little too long (he would always deny this, but there was a gleam in his eye that made everyone think twice about his words). Sometimes, it was something else entirely. Their magic came in the form of special abilities, of genuine magic. Lindsay could speak to animals, using their skills for good a majority of the time, but otherwise causing mischief. Michael could create just as well as he could destroy, rendering entire buildings obsolete and creating new ones in their wake.

There was a little bit of magic in everything, but oftentimes there were those that couldn’t see it in themselves. That was where Gavin stood. He was a smooth talker, sure, but not as smooth as Trevor. His smile wasn’t as bright as Alfredo’s. He didn’t have any magical abilities. Though he was welcomed into their group, he didn’t feel as though he belonged. He didn’t have any magic. They insisted that he was part of their crew, magic or not, and that he was welcome, but sometimes he didn’t want their comforts. He just wanted to be left alone. It was hard enough to be the lone member of the mundane in their little crew, he didn’t want their pity points on top of it. Still, it didn’t stop them from trying to help.

“Maybe you’re just a late bloomer?” Fiona suggested to him late one evening when the sun had already set, laid out on her back on the roof of a building Michael had created just for her. Her magic was her ability to be good at anything she set her mind to, with an unwavering confidence that Gavin admired (and sometimes envied), even when it was misplaced. “Or you could just be totally oblivious to it. That’s always an option.”

He let out a soft sigh, shrugging a shoulder as he turned his head to look at her. “Someone else would’ve noticed it in me by now though, I think. Everyone has something, even if they're not the ones who see it.” Those who had magic were usually pretty good at picking it out in others. It had been how those without genuine magic had discovered theirs. How Jack had discovered his warmth, how Ky had discovered her strength, and so on.

Fiona bit her lip, going quiet. He had a point there, but she didn’t want to admit it. She hated when he was right. “Maybe your magic is just being an idiot?” There was a grin on her lips, but the way that she spoke made it sound like a genuine suggestion. Gavin couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, his and Fiona’s giggles echoing out across the landscape.

“Kind of a shitty magic, don’t you think, Fifi?” He asked finally, when his sides ached from laughing and his lungs begged for air. “I know Michael would certainly agree with you, but… I really hope that’s not it.”

“I don’t know, Gavvy. Could be. But I hope that’s not it too. I think you’re made for something a bit better than that.” Instead of pity, or jokes, she gave him a vote of confidence, and there was a little gleam that formed in Gavin’s eyes at her words.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do!

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The day after speaking to Fiona, Gavin was still thinking about her words. Despite how good it had made him feel in the moment, they’d ended up putting him in a worse mood than usual, and it was hard for him to even begin thinking about the magic he might have held. Was he really meant for something better than the idiocy his friends assigned to him? He wasn’t sure.

He’d set out on a hike, outside of the city that they’d made for themselves and into the woods surrounding it. Some time out in nature always made him feel better, more at ease, more connected to the magic of the world around him. The small nuances on how the ecosystem worked together to thrive always intrigued him, and he was jealous of how cohesive it all could be.

“I’m just a bit too all over the place for it, I guess,” he muttered to himself, taking a seat on a fallen tree. The moss was soft beneath him, and he ran his fingers over it as he talked to himself. Working through his thoughts aloud always made them feel less jumbled.

A figure sat down beside him with a heavy sigh, and a hand was placed over his. “Don’t beat yourself too much, Gav,” Geoff said quietly, wrapping his arm around Gavin and pulling himself close. “We can’t all be something special, otherwise there wouldn’t be anything special at all.”

Gavin let out a long sigh, leaning into the gent when he was pulled in. He’d stopped asking how Geoff could find him so easily long ago. It was the same answer every time, ‘I just know where to look, you assholes aren’t exactly all that hard to find,’ said with that same glint in his eye. “Yeah, I know. But it’d be nice to be able to do something more than exist.”

Geoff hummed softly, rubbing his thumb gently over Gavin’s shoulder. It always made him feel guilty when any of his friends were upset, particularly Gavin, but he’d been so hung up on the same thing for so long. “Are you sure you don’t just want an excuse for the attention to be back on you for a change?”

The lad sat up quickly, pulling away from Geoff and cutting him a confused look. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying! Going around talking to everyone, being all mopey about not having magic? Pretty good way to get everyone to pay attention to you for a change, right?”

Gavin scoffed at the notion, pushing Geoff away from him. “That’s not what I’m doing at all!”

“Are you sure?” He asked, arching an eyebrow as Gavin stood up suddenly.

“Yes.” They’d had a few new members join their ranks, and attention was divided as they worked to expand their little city and network with others, but he hadn’t minded people paying less attention to him. If anything, he enjoyed it. It meant there was less pressure on him to perform. “Now, I’m going. And this time, you’re not allowed to search for me.”

He didn’t even know where he was going, he just wanted to go away. He wondered if that’s what everyone thought, or if Geoff was just trying to get a rise out of him. If they all thought that way, they’d certainly never said anything of the sort, but this was how people were going to treat him, Gavin didn’t want to be around them.

“What a dick,” he muttered to himself, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he walked deeper into the forest. It was a beautiful green and gold tapestry, the hues blending together to make a simple but pleasing pattern. The threads had been hand-woven by Matt and enchanted to protect its wearer from whatever may come their way, and it did a remarkable job.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, the trees grew taller and thicker, blocking out the sun’s rays and sending a chill through the air. As the coldness began to creep in, the cloak kept him warm and made him feel safe. However, it couldn’t protect him from the turmoil inside his own mind.

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In the city center, Michael was having a different sort of crisis, and his angry shouting could be heard all across the land.

“You said what to him?!’

His relationship to Gavin was indiscernible at best, no one knew whether they were deeply in love or mortal enemies, but one thing was certain: he was fiercely protective of the fact that he was the only one allowed to bully Gavin, and anyone else could only do so with his permission. Whether they were soulmates or archnemesis, Gavin was his boi first and foremost.

“I just suggested that maybe being an idiot was his form of magic! It was funny, we were both laughing!” Fiona said, completely oblivious to the way that Michael was shooting daggers her way. Usually Michael played along with her playful teasing of Gavin, so when he didn’t continue to make jokes, she looked over. “Don’t you give me that look, you’re thinking it too.”

“I’m not, though.” Fiona scoffed, and Michael all but growled. “I’m not. You all underestimate him, and when he does find his magic, you’re going to be blown away. All of you will be.” There was a special sort of conviction to his words, one that was usually reserved for saying the most ridiculous things completely stone-faced.

Michael stormed off after that, ignoring Fiona’s demands for him to keep hanging out with her. Movement came from the bushes on the outskirts of their community, spotted just out of the corner of his eye, but his attention snapped towards it in an instant only to reveal that the movement was caused by Geoff. His eyebrows furrowed as the other tried to pretend like he wasn’t covered in burrs and twigs, like he wasn’t trying to sneak out of the brush and back into the city unnoticed.

“Do you know where Gavin is?” he asked instantly, lifting a hand swiftly to raise a dirt wall behind Geoff, who was trying to retreat back into the bushes as quickly as he’d come out of them.

“Why would I know where he is?” Geoff asked, his voice pitchy and lilted like he certainly did know where Gavin was, but also that he knew that revealing that information would get him in more trouble with Michael than not at the same time.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, the ground beneath his feet rumbling and propelling him like a moving walkway until he was nose to nose with Geoff. “Because you know where everyone is, you always know.”

There wasn’t fear in Geoff’s eyes, but the man’s chest rose and fell rapidly with anxious breaths. The staredown was long and tense, though he eventually relented, letting out a long sigh as the wall behind him fell. He wasn’t going anywhere. “I spoke to him in the woods maybe an hour ago, he told me that I’m not allowed to look for him, but here.” He reached into his gear, pulling out a weathered piece of parchment that was rolled and tied with a thin strip of leather. A map, one that he’d made with the same magic that lived in his tattoos, that not only held the lay of the land but also markers for everyone who lived in it. Geoff offered it to Michael, who quickly swiped it from him and unrolled it. “He never said anything about you going after him.”

The lad hummed quietly as his eyes scanned the map for the forest green marker that indicated Gavin’s name, wordlessly stepping beyond the brush and into the woods towards it.

“I don’t even get a thank you?!” Geoff cried out behind him, annoyed by the lack of gratitude. The ground beneath his feet rose suddenly, knocking him off his feet and onto the earth. He cried out, flailing his arms in an attempt to stop himself from falling, but it was futile. Michael was already gone.

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The woods looked easy to traverse on the map, and they most likely would have been if Michael had stayed on the trails, but he opted to make a beeline towards Gavin. The terrain was rocky and there were steep cliffs off the beaten path, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. He could mend and mold the earth to make it easier to traverse, creating stairs along the cliff faces for an easy descent. The climate was what was really getting to him. The chill in the air was unbearable for him, only getting worse as the sun began to dip down, and he had a bear’s pelt to keep him warm. Gavin’s frame was thinner and frailer than his own, he most likely wasn’t faring any better.

He lit a torch as night fell, raising up dirt and stone walls around himself to block out the cold and keep himself safe from the nocturnal monsters around him. After jamming the torch into the wall, he unfurled his map and saw that Gavin’s marker had stopped moving and was instead spinning around in frantic circles. Evidently, he was trying to make camp for the night as well. With a swift movement of his hand, miles away on the other side of the woods, similar walls raised up around Gavin, and the marker finally stopped moving. Satisfied that his boi was safe, he settled down, wrapping his pelt around himself tightly for warmth as he laid down to sleep.

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Gavin was startled as the dirt walls rose up around him, terrified that something was trying to trap him within them, though he quickly became at ease when he realized what it meant. Geoff had listened and wasn’t going to be searching for him, but Michael was certainly looking out for him instead. The fear that came from being alone out there dissipated as he ran his fingers down the dirt, pulling out several clumps of roots and knocking bits of earth loose. Dirt walls were less than fancy, but they were a great comfort regardless.

He slept easily through the night with a newfound sense of safety, his cloak pulled tightly around himself for warmth. It worked wonders against the cold. As the sun began to rise, it didn’t emerge from the clouds, the sky grey and dreary as rain began to fall. Gavin could hear the rain hitting the tops of the trees, but even as he began to move none of the drops ever hit him. Above him, the branches of the trees bent and molded, shielding him from the downpours as he walked. No doubt this is Michael’s doing, he thought to himself, a small smile forming on his lips. No matter how much they seemed to argue, the other lad still managed to be protective of him. It was something he was always grateful for, even when the others seemed to give him shit for it.

His pace that day was slower, more leisurely now that he had calmed down some, but he still had no intentions of going back to the city. If Michael was the only one who cared enough to come for him, they could start their own city far, far away. Together. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, pushing his hood down and taking a look around. Though the trees were tall above him for now, he knew that if he just kept going they’d give way to a beautiful, grassy plain. He couldn’t wait to walk on grass again, the dirt and stones beneath him were starting to make his feet ache.

Several yards from where he’d first had that thought, he had to stop, kneeling down to untie his boots so he could re-lace them tightly. Moving slowly, he bent down, not wanting to end up with another cut on his knee from landing too hard on a rock like he’d already done far too many times this trek. But the terrain beneath his knee was soft, and as he looked down at his boot, he saw that there was soft, lush grass beneath him. Not dirt.

“What on earth?” He asked himself, brushing his fingers through it. There was some grass on the forest floor around him, but it was rough and patchy, nothing like this. “Michael’s really outdone himself this time.” With that thought, he smiled to himself before continuing to lace up his boots with deft fingers. Before he stood, he spotted a small wildflower that had bloomed among the blades , and he gently picked it and placed it behind his ear. “What a dope.”

What Gavin didn’t know was that Michael didn’t have the ability to create foliage or flowers underfoot. No one in their community did. And with each step that Gavin took, more of it sprouted up from the dirt beneath him.

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Night fell again soon enough, and Gavin wasn’t sure where he was. He could’ve sworn that the forest gave way into plains at this point, but instead he found himself in the middle of the desert. Stupidly, he’d continued on, just in case the plains were just beyond it, though now he was too tired to turn back.

“Maybe Fiona was right,” he muttered as he sat down in the sand, digging his toes into it and wiggling them for some amusement as he propped his cloak up over himself like an umbrella. It was nighttime now, but it would be morning again soon enough. He didn’t want to end up burnt to a crisp before he even woke up. No walls came up around Gavin this time either, so it was up to him to protect himself.

Gavin leaned forward against his knees, peering up at the night sky for a few long moments. Jeremy had spent many long nights back in the city teaching him the constellations and the stars within them, though he could never tell which ones were real and which ones the lad had made up for his own amusement. Orion was certainly real, but Beauregard’s Chariot was almost certainly not. Almost. He picked that one out, finding comfort in its familiarity, before he decided it was time to get some rest. Toes still in the sand, he laid back, arms crossed beneath his head as he closed his eyes. He had been so focused on the sky that he was unaware of what was happening in the sand beneath him.

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With Gavin’s slowed pace, Michael was able to start gaining on him. He raced through the trees with even greater speed now that he was beyond the craggy cliffs and difficult landscape, the earth moving beneath him to propel him along. By nighttime, he’d closed in on Gavin’s position, and he was stunned by what he saw.

Smack dab in the middle of the desert, where not even cacti could manage to survive due to the horrible heat and scorching sunbeams, Gavin found himself within an oasis. That same lush grass and wildflowers were no longer just underfoot, but in a wide circle around the lad, almost tall enough to completely hide him from Michael’s view. Small trees were even beginning to grow, supporting Gavin’s cloak above him in place of the flimsy sticks he’d set up before.

“Gavin?” Michael called softly, stepping forward with caution in case it was a facade, a trap of some sort. The desert was known for causing hallucinations, for preying on the hope of the desperate. That was the kind of magic it held, and it was very skillful at using it. But as he knelt down at the edge of the circle and reached forward to feel the greenery, sure enough, it was real. “What the hell? Gavin! Wake the fuck up!”

The lad sat bolt upright with a start, catching himself in his cloak and fighting it off with all the fierceness of a kitten. Sleep was still gripping him, catching him somewhere between being wide awake and deep asleep, but he was quickly coming to. “Who’s there?!” He shouted, finally tossing his cape away from himself and looking around in confusion. “Michael?” That wasn’t the last thing he expected to see out there, but it wasn’t the first either. “What are you doing here, Michael?”

It had taken everything in Michael not to laugh at the display in front of him, but he quickly wiped the smirk off his face to look offended when Gavin addressed him so incredulously. “Jeez, don’t sound so happy to see me,” he drawled, rolling his eyes before shuffling forward on his knees. “Mind telling me what all this is?” He arched an eyebrow, gesturing to the small haven among the sand.

However, Gavin had no more answers than Michael did. “I’m not… I’m not sure what it is,” he responded earnestly, glancing between it and the other lad before reaching for his cloak. “I thought you were doing it. You’re not?” Michael shook his head fervently, and Gavin only frowned as he pulled the garment on. “Then who is?”

Michael shrugged a shoulder, humming a soft ‘I don’t know’ before standing, stalking around the mysterious growth. This wasn’t anything that anyone he knew could do, and when he tried to make it happen himself, all he could do was raise the earth itself. He couldn’t make anything grow from it. Which left only one option…

“Come here,” he said suddenly, and Gavin looked at him like he’d asked him to do something insane. “Stand up! Get the hell over here!” When there was still no movement from him, Michael reached forward, hauling Gavin to his feet and yanking him out of the circle. Sure enough, grass sprouted up beneath the lad’s feet, extending the circle and connecting it to wherever he stepped. “Holy shit… Gavin! Look!”

Gavin had thought that Michael was angry at him, scolding him, but the tone of his voice was nothing but excited. Thrilled, even. He followed Michael’s gaze down to his feet, but he wasn’t quick enough to put the pieces together like the other had. “This happened to me back in the forest too! I don’t know what’s going on!”

“You’ve found your magic, that’s what’s going on!” Michael was practically screaming, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking at Gavin with a big beaming grin. “You can make stuff grow! That’s incredible!”

That made things click for Gavin, finally, and his grin ended up matching Michael’s. “I can make stuff grow!” Geoff was going to be blown away, everyone was. He wondered if Michael would be okay with them going back to the city immediately, they’d be able to get there by morning thanks to his abilities. “Fiona was right!”

The other bristled immediately, his grin turning to a frown in a fraction of a second. “Fiona was… Right?” She’d told Gavin that his magic was being stupid, that his special ability was being an idiot. This certainly wasn’t that, not by a long shot. “Gavin, this isn’t stupid. This is awesome! Fiona wasn’t right.”

“What? What are you on about? No, she… She said I was made for something better than what everyone else thought. And she was right! Oh, and she’s had such shit luck getting flowers to grow at her place too, no wonder!” Gavin threw his arms around Michael’s neck, wrapping him in a tight hug that was fueled by nothing but pure glee, and he could only hug him back just as tight. “We have to get back there, immediately. Everyone is going to be so jealous, Michael-boi.”

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Some proper rest would’ve been a great benefit to them both, but Gavin had insisted that they return to the city as quickly as possible. The moving ground beneath their feet made it a relatively quick task, and Michael had managed to find a well-worn trail that made it even easier. They were back in the city by sunrise, and while the excitement had died down in Michael to give way to sleepiness, Gavin was no less giddy. Probably because he’d climbed on Michael’s back at one point and managed a small nap. Lucky bastard, Michael had thought to himself when he’d heard the soft snoring in his ear, but he hadn’t woken him up.

“Michael. Stop here, Michael,” Gavin urged, nearly losing his balance as the dirt beneath him ground to a halt suddenly. They were just outside the city, inside the same bushes that Geoff had attempted to sneak out of a few days prior, hidden from view as residents began to leave their houses to begin their tasks for the day. “I’m gonna get on your back-“

“You’re not taking another fucking nap,” Michael interjected, and the other huffed and waved him off.

“No! I’m gonna get on your back so I can do a grand reveal, you dolt. The flowers appear when I step, and if I step too soon the surprise will be ruined!”

“Hey, assholes!” Jeremy’s voice boomed across the city center, no doubt hearing the commotion, and Gavin quickly began to scramble onto Michael’s back.

“Ow! Watch it, you’re gonna knock off my glasses! Stop!” Michael huffed, swatting at Gavin’s hands as they reached for purchase anywhere they could. He stepped out of the bushes once he was settled, looking annoyed while the lad on his back was nothing but gleeful. “Hey, Lil J! I rescued our favorite dumbass. You’re welcome.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh as Gavin let out a little ‘hello!’ and waved, though he was curious about why the other was on Michael’s back. It wasn’t unlike Gavin to demand piggy-back rides. Though normally once Jeremy was in view, he made it his mission to climb onto his shoulders instead. “Gav, are you hurt? What’s going on?” He stepped up with caution, ready to call for help if needed. Injuries weren’t uncommon, but if Gavin needed to be carried, it must’ve been serious.

“No, the asshole’s not hurt. Not yet, at least. He’s just got a surprise for you,” Michael assured, rolling his eyes. “For everyone, actually. Do me a favor and ring the bell? They’re gonna want to be here for this.”

An eyebrow shot up, but Jeremy was quick to comply with the request. He crossed the city center, grabbing the rope and pulling it once, twice, three times to signal that it was a meeting of utmost importance, but not one that brought bad news. When the bell rang three times, it meant that there were good things to come.

Soon, all of the residents of the city were there, eagerly awaiting to learn the reason for this meeting. Very rarely did the bell ring thrice, and there were hushed whispers and guesses of what was to come. They all fell silent when Michael, with Gavin still on his back, stepped forward.

“I’ve found my magic,” Gavin announced, savoring the look on everyone’s faces as they processed that announcement. Particularly Geoff’s, whose face was twisted into one of apologetic guilt. A sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside of him at that. And of course Fiona was delighted, jumping up and down and pumping her fists, shouting ‘I knew it!’ before she even knew what Gavin’s magic was. It didn’t matter to her. Alfredo and Trevor were also excited, but only because their beloved Dusk Boy had finally joined their ranks, though Jack and Matt simply looked skeptical. He couldn’t blame them, really. Why now? Why did it take so long for him to find it? Those were the questions behind their eyes, and Gavin wished that he had answers for them.

When he felt like he’d let the suspense hang in there air for long enough, he stepped down. For a moment, nothing happened. Matt was about to open his mouth to complain about being dragged out of bed for a grand display of nothing. And then, all at once, a beautiful display of lush grass and flowers appeared at his feet. The more he focused on it, the bigger it grew and the more beautiful it became. No longer was it simply wildflowers, either. In the hours of their journey, he realized he could control the types of flowers that grew. He opted for sunflowers this time. Everyone knew that they were his favorite. It was proof that the magic was his, and not anyone else’s pretending to be his.

The reactions were mixed, and Gavin deflated a little as several people seemed unimpressed and walked off to return to their duties. It wasn’t the most spectacular power in the world, he knew that, but it was his and he liked it. That was what mattered to him. There wasn’t much time for him to mope though, as Fiona quickly rushed him, wrapping him in a hug and lifting him off his feet.

“Gavin!” she shouted, stepping back to inspect the flowers closer. She plucked a few blades of grass, feeling them between her fingers. After a few seconds, she gasped, her eyes lighting up. “You can help me grow flowers at my place!”

Gavin laughed, nodding quickly and beaming at her. He could always trust her to cheer him up. “I can, yeah. No wonder you’ve not been able to grow anything.”

“Yeah, cause you stole my green thumb! That’s hardly my fault.”

“Oh, I dunno about that. You should’ve been keeping a closer eye on it.”

They bickered back and forth, Michael watching with a tired but fond smile, until Fiona decided that she’d had enough and thumped Gavin on the side of the head before racing off. The lad was too exhausted to follow, so he just stepped over to Michael, the foliage underfoot following him as he went. Everyone else came up to congratulate him in time, Geoff doing that and apologizing for the harshness of his words in one awkward convoluted mess that Michael wasn’t even sure was an apology, but Gavin understood what the gent was trying to say. He’d learned to decode Geoff Speak over the years.

Still, the person whose opinion Gavin valued the most was Michael’s, and once the excitement had died down and they’d retreated to their homes to rest, Michael stopped by to give it.

“I’m real proud of you, Gav,” he said, making himself comfortable on the bed next to the lad without a second thought.

“Proud of me?” he asked, snatching his blankets back from the lad as he tried to steal them. Michael always did this to him.

“Yeah. Proud of you. For putting up with the bullshit and finding your magic. Even if it was a total accident.” Michael snorted out a soft laugh and smiled, crossing his arms beneath his head and looking over at the other. “You just lucked into it, just like you lucked into everything else.”

“Including you?” Gavin arched an eyebrow as he met the other’s gaze, desperately wanting to wipe that smug look off his face.”

“Especially me, are you kidding?” That comment earned him a gentle smack to the chest, a kiss to the cheek, and a mutter of ‘I’m going to make a tree grow through your damn house.’

To everyone else, their relationship was indiscernible at best. But Michael and Gavin knew exactly what they were to each other, they didn’t need anyone else in their business about it. They were partners. Not just in life and love, but in their magic as well. As he learned how to hone and control his abilities, Gavin would decorate the city and beautify the buildings that Michael had created. And once he had mastered his skills, Michael began to create buildings specifically for Gavin to embellish. Dirt roofs became his signature style, the gravity-defying feature held together by the roots of the flowers that Gavin planted into them. The city had never looked better, and even those who were initially unimpressed by Gavin’s abilities had to admit that it was perfectly suited to him. He took great pride in rubbing it in their faces.

Gavin was happy to not be a member of the mundane anymore. His spirits were higher, and he felt more useful to the city. His abilities, with more practice, extended beyond flowers and grass and into fruit and vegetable plants. The magic that Gavin held could sustain them all.

But Gavin had always held magic within him, in Michael’s eyes. He had never been mundane. That gleam in his eye when he got another crazy idea to cause chaos was nothing if not supernatural, and his ability to find the fun in even the most boring of situations had proven to be valuable time and time again. It just hadn’t been the form of magic that Gavin had always desired, so he never took note of it despite it always being there. Michael was just glad he could finally see it in himself too.

#ragehappy #rpf #mavin #oneshot #magic au #secret sunshine #secret sunshine event #fic #my fic #my writing #everamazingfe

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

Without You

Pairing: Logan x MC (Lexi Cahill)

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5 K words

Warning: Just a little cursing, here and there and Angst

MC is actually not present in this fic, this is Logan's POV, four months after he had to leave LA

Author's note: I decided to take part in @rodappreciationweek so here is my submission :))

Thanks to @choicesarehard @brightpinkpeppercorn and @client-327 for hosting this 💙

Thanks to @mvalentine for pre-reading it❤️❤️

Title inspiration: Without You by Avicii (ft. Sandro Cavazza)

Song: Gone by Blake Rose

Forgive me if I make any mistakes.

The rays of the sun spilled through the crack in my curtains, making the white walls a yellow hue. My eyes were bleary and red rimmed. It had just been moments since I woke up and my hangover struck me like a train wreck, a familiar electric pain behind my eyes.

I shouldn't have drank so much.

I moved my head to only see an an empty bed side. Of course she left. Who would want to stick around after a one night stand?

The hazy memories of last night filtered through my head, making me wince. Another night, another rave, another tray of shots and another chick to bang.

You could call it saturday shenanigans but, this was different.

Everything was different since I left her.

All my days just seem to melt away into a haze of alcohol and drugs... Today, tomorrow, yesterday seems to fuse into this neverending torture, an ache which no matter how much I drink or how many girls I fuck, never fucking ceases to hurt. The only thing which can fix this gaping wound in my heart is Lexi.

But she is not here.

And never will be.

So this is how it has been for the past weeks. Me getting inebriated to new extremes just to numb the pain and to temporarily erase the loneliness before I become sober again.

Because when I'm in those intoxicated wastelands, I'm so out of it that I can almost hallucinate her dancing with me. I can almost smell her strawberry shampoo, tickling my nose. I can almost hear her tinkling laugh.

And in my alcohol induced sleep, I dream of her in my arms the both of us fitting together, like two jigsaw puzzles.

I despise being sober. Because when I am In my senses, the entire load of loss weighs down on me, crushing me and suffocating me. The 'could have been's' and the regret are all a heavy burden on my shoulders.

A small part of me is often wishing, praying and hoping that things could just go back to normal but, deep in my gut I know, that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

Nothing is ever going to be the same, now that she was gone...

How much time does it take to get over people?

It may be a day, a week, a month or a year. There is no definitive time span for getting over someone you loved, someone you cherished or someone who was close to your heart.

I think it depends on how much of an impact the said person had on you or how much of a void that person left in you.

I was the wild and carefree guy, with no strings attached and never saw myself being the one to fall in love because... Let's admit it, love is a vulnerability, a weakness which people don't hesitate to exploit.

But fast forward to four months later, I am in the same category as those emotional pussies crying over a breakup.

Being brought up in foster homes made me grow up quickly. Some houses were good and caring whilst some were harsh. And knowing that I am the most cursed person to walk the earth, I was always was stuck with the shitty households.

Don't believe me? I still have those scars from the fights and the beatings.

Growing up in such a hostile environment, taught me that there is no room for weakness or error and that love and feelings are just some fairy tale myth which is made by philosophical fools to give you a sense of hope.

But, hope is a dangerous thing, two side of the same coin. It can make you and break you.

I don't think I would have survived my childhood but... That's when I fell in love with cars.

It holds a special place in my heart.

The way my adrenaline spikes as the pointer on my speedometer achieves unattainable speeds, the way I feel the purr of my engine resound through my entire body and they way it's just me, my car and the open road... Nobody could ever compare to that sensation of freedom.

Well, that was before I met her.

Lexi Cahill.

I admit it started off as a way to recruit her as an informant, a tool to stay out of prison, another heart to break.

But little did I know that life would pull the fucking reverse uno card on me. But, I'm low-key glad it did.

It's been 4 months since that scum bag was thrown into the jail.

Four months since the crew went its separate ways.

Four months since I walked away from her.

I don't want to let you go...

Those words were on a repeat in his head, like a broken tape recorder and her teary eyes and broken expression is forever burnt into his brain. It was so hard to let her go. The one time I found a reason to stay, a reason to fight for, a reason to stop running, life just fucked it all up.

It was a tussle, a war between what my heart wanted and the logical side of me which just left me exhausted.

In conclusion, heartbreak sucks.

I reach for my phone and switch it on to check the time. But my eyes fall on our prom photo which I had made as my wallpaper. It's really stupid how head over heels I'm in love with her.

But it's the truth.

There is a saying that life gives you only one great love and that many people go for years without that.

I was one of the few lucky people to get that at 18.

But life is not sunflowers and unicorns shitting rainbows. It's rough, it's hard with its a mix of ups and downs. But it seems like mine is set to be on the all time low.

Staggering to the bathroom, I heavily leaned against the counter, my muscles flexing as I gripped the edge. My eyes lifted to see my reflection staring back at me.

I look like a hot mess.

This isn't you Logan... My inner conscience said, which eerily sounded like her.

God, I really must be losing it, huh?

Slowly and painfully I started my morning chores, my body on auto pilot. My mind kept on wandering to Lexi. She would be in Langston by now.

Would she be in that off shoulder sweater of hers, her feather tattoo peaking from underneath the sleeve? Would she be highlighting and colour coordinating her notes like she always did?

Would she have made new friends? Or dare I say a new boyfriend?

Logan stop hurting yourself. I said to myself as I visibly cringed at the thought of someone else having their arms around her.

The idea of someone else kissing her soft lips or someone else holding her hands or someone else running his hands along the curvature of her naked back made me equal parts angry and sad.

Angry for you know, obvious reasons but sad for the life I had to leave behind in LA.

God I hate this existential crisis shit... It's to early to question life.

I dragged myself in the direction of the kitchen, the smell of bacon waking me up. I was shirtless and wearing a pair of sweatpants because I was too fucking tired to wear anything else.

"Look who has decided to grace us with their presence."

"Shut up Carl, it's too early for your bullshit." Raven said as she slapped the top of his head.

I shot her a look of gratitude as I sank into my seat and reached for the plate of pancakes.

Carl and Raven were the closest thing to parents for me. Carl was a tough man with huge muscles, around six feet tall but, he was as goofy as a child. Raven was his girlfriend who was hella intimidating. The kohl lined eyes and the floral tattoo on the side of her shaven head made her look fierce. Both of them were in their early thirties and ran the Detroit Central crew.

We three were in a different crew when I was 15 and they really took a liking for me. They taught me everything I know and they are the family that I always came back too.

I dug into my breakfast, eating slowly and savouring the sweetness of the maple syrup.

"Thank god you are atleast eating now." Raven said as she ruffled my hair and turned towards the sink.

I shrugged and Carl picked up the newspaper to read, settling into his seat. Suddenly, the bell rang which had all of our backs becoming as stiff as a rod.

"Were you expecting someone, darlin'?" Raven asked, trying to peak through the windows.

"Don't get up, I'll do it." Carl said as he picked up the gun on the counter and pushed it into the back pocket of his cargo pants.

I was frozen, terrified. I had been very careful in escaping but me being the reckless fool and getting drunk seven ways to Sunday may have tipped them off.

I'm such a colossal dumbass.

I could hear Carl's gruff voice talking but I couldn't peek at the person on the other side of the door. I just sank further into my seat, hoping that it was some lost person and not the FBI.

"Boy this one's for you." He moved aside and the person I least expected to see walked in.

"You look like shit."

"Good morning to you too, asshole." I rolled my eyes.

Colt walked into the kitchen, wearing his trademark leather jackets and dark jeans. His combat boots made a thud sound with each step which made my headache worse.

"Will you be okay, Lo-lo?" Raven asked, her eyes flitting to the jerk standing in her kitchen.

Colt snorted at the nickname but luckily kept his mouth shut.

"Yep Ra. Meet Colt Kaneko. Colt meet Raven and Carl." I spoke at I stood up and put my dirty dishes in the sink.

"Oh you are Kaneko's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"We heard about what went down in LA. Our condolences. He was a great man."

He gave a nod. It was a sore subject for me as well. That night in the alley, I wished I could take it back. I usually am not one to regret what I spew but whatever I said to Kaneko is another burden I'm gonna carry all my life.

"Also heard about your crew busted the Brotherhood? You were the mastermind behind it right?" Carl said as he crossed his arms.

"As much as I would love to take the credit, it was Lexi who came up with the plan." Colt said his eyes darted towards me, gauging my reaction.

"The newbie? Heard she drives like the wind-"

Hearing her name felt like an iron fist clenching my heart. That name will always be the source of my happiness, my cherished memories and my melancholy.

"Colt let's take this to the backyard, shall we?" Logan spoke up, interrupting them.

He walked to the back door and Colt followed him wordlessly. It a sunny day but a cool breeze blew which provided some kind of relief.

I reached to take out two beers from the cooler and handed him one. Colt raised an eyebrow.

"Beer... At ten in the morning?"

I shrugged as I popped the bottle cap off mine. "It's 5pm somewhere else."

"That's true too. Cheers." We clinked the necks of our bottles and took a sip as we sat down on the patio chairs.

I turned towards him. "So what brings you to Detroit?"

"To see your pretty face?" Colt said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

I snorted. "Always knew you had a thing for me, pretty boy."

"Always knew that you had an ego the size of Jupiter, dickhead. Some things just don't change."

I sighed. "Can't say the same for me through. Everything is different now."

Surprisingly, Colt didn't mock him. He stared down at the bottle in his hands. "Yeah... I can understand. How are you holding up?" He asked as he turned to face me.

I took a huge gulp of my beer before responding, my eyes staring at the mango tree in my neighbor's back yard.

"Not too good. It's been hard for the last couple of months. Kaneko's death, leaving LA and maintaining a low profile... It's been tough."

Life without Lexi is tough.

"Yeah I can understand. I still imagine pops opening the door to wake me up. And don't get me started on the FBI... bunch of bloodsuckers." He muttered the last part.

I snorted. "I'll drink to that."

"Good thing they are off our backs now." Colt spoke eyeing him from the corner of his eyes.

I scoffed. "Bitch please. They are anything but lazy. They are gonna continue hunting us down till the end of time."

"I meant that we are not the top priorities at the moment. Sure Mona was sent to jail but, a little birdie told me that they are after this 'world class' thief at the moment."

"That's a relief I guess."

"Do you know what this means?" He asked taking another sip of beer.

"It's too early for my brain to function. Come to the point, asshole."

"We are rebuilding the crew, dickhead."

My eyes widened. "No way."

"Yup." He said popping the 'p'. He downed the remainder of his beer before standing up. "I'm done repairing the garage. We have a job in two months and I need a crew for that. I already have Ximena on board and now I'm gonna go over to Toby's."

My mind was swimming. Mercy Park Crew was coming back for good.

I looked up at him, suddenly nervous. "What about Lexi?"

He rolled his eyes. "When I said I'm rebuilding the crew, I also meant recruiting Lexi, dumbass."

Oh god.

She is going to come back.

I was frozen in my place once again. I had often asked myself how I would react if I got the chance to meet her again. I always imagined that I would let out the loudest cheer and dance like a mad man.

But this is reality and my thundering heart was a reminder of that.

"Why are you sitting there with your mouth open like a fish? Go! Get your girl."

And that was it. I rushed to my room, put on some decent clothes and haphazardly stuffed my things into my satchel. Grabbing my keys and yelling a quick good bye to Raven and Carl, I was out and in my 2005 Devore GT.

Reving the engine I took off on the roads of Detroit, heading for the highway.

The window was open and the breeze threaded through my unruly hair, making me feel alive. My hands clutched the wheel and my foot pressed down on the accelerator, speeding through the empty streets.

For the first time, in a very long, the roads which felt like a never ending maze for me, were the very ones which were the path to my freedom.

The path to my happiness.

The path to my Lexi.

I hope you liked it 😊

Logan x mc: @kaavyaethanramsey @openheart @skylarklyon @shadowycreatorpaperopera @pixelberryownsme @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @anotherbeingsworld

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#anushka writes #logan x mc #logan rod #ride or die #ride or die: a bad boy romance #choices rod #rod choices #rodaw #rod appreciation week #colt kaneko #rod colt #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #choices #pixelberry #playchoices #rodappreaciationweek

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dreaming-gamer · 3 years

Text

Magic Touch – Nero X V – Chapter 5

Firefighter Nero X Massage Therapist V

Back with a new chapter! And it turned out pretty long so more under the cut! ^^

@thedyingmoon 💜💜💜

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

V wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Frankly, he hadn’t seen himself as a man with time for… well, a significant other during the last months... perhaps the entire year really. Work used up his time, as did the various activities as a part of the literature association. Not to mention a few other activities, he certainly needed to check his schedule for an appropriate time for the animal shelter as well… V could admit that he worked a lot but it was hard not to do when, well… he enjoyed seeing somebody completely refreshed after one of his treatments. Or seeing somebody’s eyes light up from inspiration. Or seeing a small life find comfort, for the first time in a while.

V wouldn’t say he was an angel by any means, if somebody underestimated him and asked him to use some force, he certainly would and even feel a bit satisfied, when they then asked him to let up. Hopefully with a new sense of respect for his profession. Yes, he might look weak and he might be compared to other, more well-trained men. But this was a role he had chosen for himself, of course he would execute it with pride and professionalism.

Nero had done something he’d never experienced before however. Despite sounding rather cocky while under V’s hands, he’d… apologized, after the treatment. As well as complimented him, in fact. V had been thanked for his services before, but nobody had ever apologized for sounding disrespectful. Not that V had felt that offended even, Nero had certainly been a mild case.

The incident had made Nero a name and face that stuck in his memory however, even though V had not expected the firefighter to show up at the spa again. It hadn’t seemed like a place Nero was very used to.

And he certainly had not expected Nero to show up at times when he needed aid. Nor that his new apartment would be right across the street from said Nero Sparda.

Was there not an old saying, that if you met three times, it was meant to be? V had never put much weight into the words, it was a romantic saying certainly but not one he’d ever thought would happen to him.

But Nero was kind. More observant than he expected. His heart seemed to burn with the will to help, in a way V found himself respect. Not to mention that he found it charming, Nero’s openhearted reactions endearing, he was like a book and V felt as if he was starting to understand his language. Or maybe he was fooling himself into hoping so, for Nero’s suggestion of giving him a massage, as well as his words… V couldn’t deny that Nero had surprised him. In a good way because his shoulders actually felt a little less stiff now and it was quite refreshing.

And yet, Nero’s yes to his half teasing suggestion had been another surprise. A… welcome one. A weekly reminder to relax could be something he admittedly needed.

Just like the note he had found just inside the door when he came home late, that same evening after how they had abruptly parted. V certainly still felt a bit bad about how he had left the kind firefighter, not to mention at such a moment…They had not known each other for long, maybe they should not advance so quickly… and yet when Nero’s face had been that close, V had found himself tempted to taste his lips. Very… tempted in fact.

V slowly bent down to collect the folded note just below his mailbox, a simple page torn from a notebook it looked like, with some scribbled words that were honestly a bit hard to read, not too small but crooked.

“Hey. Hope everything went well with that meeting-thingy. Do you wanna exchange numbers? Here’s mine:” it read, followed by a cellphone number and an easy to read signature. Nero.

V found his lips curve into a smirk as he read, so Nero finally gathered the courage. At the garage, V had certainly heard him, but decided not to push or perhaps it had also been a way to test if the other man was truly so… interested. V couldn’t deny that it spread a sense of intrigue inside. The words were simple yes, but they did speak of Nero’s kindness yet again. As well as his interest. An interest that V to his slight surprise, felt himself share.

V’s phone was in his pocket but even though the device was certainly necessary for communication, he had never appreciated the written word in text messages in the same way he enjoyed books.

If Nero was thoughtful enough to give him a handwritten note, why not respond in kind? Of course, he could send a simple text message but… V rarely texted. And if he did it was without those emojis that he barely understood the meaning of.

His apartment was still a glorified chaos adding a heavy feeling to his shoulders. Oh, how he longed for it to be done, to arrive at a point where he was happy with his new home and did not have to feel stress over its somewhat unfinished state. Perhaps he’d do just a little bit more unpacking, before bed…

But first a reply to this note. In one of the many boxes of books waiting to be unpacked he found a beautiful notebook, the black leather of its cover was smooth against his fingers. It did not matter that the notebook had only had half its original number of pages when he found it at a second-hand store, it still spoke to him. Upon one lined page, V started to write with neat letters, surprised at how easy it was to find the right words.

He signed it with his own phone number and a single V. Smirking a bit to himself, he carefully tore it out and folded the paper once. It was already quite late so he would have to wait until the morning until he could leave it in Nero’s mailbox, since the front door to the apartment building had already been locked.

V couldn’t help but wonder, what Nero’s home looked like. It felt like details about the firefighter stuck quite easily in his mind, despite him not putting an effort into doing so. With a small smile the massage therapist looked out the window, to the apartment building right across from his. The distance certainly didn’t give him any clue how Nero’s home could supposedly look, but he was nevertheless interested.

A gentle light seemed to be on, in one of the rooms. Perhaps Nero’s apartment had the same layout as his with two rooms, a kitchen as well as a bathroom. The firefighter might have gone to bed, as V certainly ought to do but nevertheless it could wait just a little. His hand trembled slightly as he put the cane away next to the door. Just one or two boxes to unpack then he should head to sleep. As for the promise he and Nero had shared, of reminding each other of doing one relaxing activity per week… It was not as if they had promised to do this relaxing activity together, but V wished for the promise to bear fruit.

“He who desires but act not… breeds pestilence.” He quoted quietly, kneeling next to a box of yet more books, carefully undoing the tape on it. There was truth to those words, he knew and he certainly… desired to know Nero a bit better. Suddenly finding themselves as neighbors, they were bound to continue running into each other. And he did not mind the thought one bit.

***

Nero groaned at the rays of sunshine that peeked through the crack in the blinds, turning himself over. With awareness slowly rising, so did his thoughts and they made him groan louder, the pillow masking the sound as he stuffed his face into it.

The kiss had been so close! Was that going to be the default state of their flirting tango or what was going on? Nero pulled out, trying to pick himself up. Okay the moment had been lost, but they had at least shared a moment. And V still lived across the street for him, not to mention that Nero had left his number for the other man to find in his mailbox.

His thoughts clicked into place.

Nero quickly grabbed for the cellphone on the small bedside table, feeling butterflies of hope flutter in his stomach as he picked up his phone and checked.

The screen didn’t show any new messages. Just the glaring numbers that told him he needed to get up in a few minutes, if he wanted enough time to get ready for work. Instantly the tornado of fluttering wings stopped.

Oh come on, he might just not have seen the note yet. Maybe he got home really late and crashed into bed. Whatever the crisis that V had had to avert was, Nero sure hoped it had all worked out. Considering that he was still in the middle of a move, as well as working… some rest should do him good.

Writing that note had taken courage on Nero’s part, but after what had almost happened, as well as their promise, he seriously wanted to believe that he had a chance with V. This anticipation was really something different than how he’d felt when he’d started to date Kyrie and well… he kinda liked it. Despite the constant ups and downs when it came to his hope.

Nero put his phone away and got up. One glance through the window didn’t tell him a lot about how V’s morning was. There were no blinds pulled down, so maybe the massage therapist was up, or maybe he simply hadn’t bothered to pull them down when he got home. V didn’t have morning sun to worry about, unlike Nero.

And Nero didn’t really have time to get caught up in thoughts about the tattooed man even if he wanted to since he had work to get ready for. It was all routine at this point a quick shower, shave and something to eat. This morning it consisted of a spinach smoothie with pineapple, cucumber, kiwi and just a touch of ginger and lime. The smoothie cookbook that Kyrie had given him as an extra birthday present had come more in handy than he’d expected but then again, she had been the one to teach him that a blender could fix some easy and portable breakfast if he so wished.

It wasn’t until Nero grabbed his keys, put his shoes on and pulled his backpack over one shoulder that he realized that there was a note on his carpet, just inside the door.

Could it be—It sure as hell wasn’t the electric bill. Nero was quick to reach down but his fingers hesitated, just before reaching the smooth paper surface. His pulse was suddenly loud in his ears, the hopeful butterflies returning full force in his stomach. Last evening had almost reached a stage that he felt sure he was willing to explore… and he wanted to think V felt the same. Or did he think they were moving too fast? V seemed to have a lot on his plate overall. Maybe Nero should just clear with him if this promise meant… dating, or not.

Not wanting to torment himself with uncertainty about the note’s content anymore, Nero’s fingers gripped the paper. It was lined, seemed to be very properly ripped from a notebook or something.

So this is his handwriting. Nero couldn’t help but notice it first of all, how neat it was. Beautiful even, with a flow to the characters he had selected for Nero’s eyes and Nero’s eyes only.

“I apologize again for my sudden leave. The meeting was fruitful, the crisis averted. Thank you for your note. As you can see, I would certainly like to exchange phone numbers. If you are free, would you be interested in meeting up at a café later this week?” At the very end was the number stated, as well as a simple, elegant V.

Nero grinned to himself, a warm almost tickling feeling in his chest. The guy’s mannerisms continued in text it seemed. He sure hadn’t expected any slang in there, but Nero couldn’t help but find it a bit funny. How much like V this little note felt. Even the question he had a damn sure answer to.

And most of all.

He had finally gotten V’s number. They were neighbors even! Nero grinned, folded the note and put it in his pocket as he left the apartment, heading downstairs for his car. It felt like his heart was dancing to the tones of a victory march only he could hear from the way it pounded hard in his chest. V must have at least a little interest in him too and the thought was making him soar on his way down to the ground floor.

The second he got to his car and sat in the driver seat, Nero fished out the note and added V’s number to his contacts. With a single V just like the note had been signed. It felt so right to see it.

And then he started to type out his first message. Erased and started over a few times but finally arriving at something he thought worked for a first message.

“Hey, got your note. I’m up for it! Saturday’s free, works for you? I’m gonna be at work today, until 8 in the morning but I’ll answer when I can. Hope you have a great day. - Nero” A bit… formal maybe, but he wanted to make sure V knew why he wasn’t replying to his message quickly, in case V wrote back way before he had a chance to answer.

“Alright…” Nero put away his phone and started the engine of his car with a grin on his face. It felt like he could run ten miles, so he was actually looking forward to the training at work. But even more so, to an answer from V.

***

Nero’s hands and eyes checked his personal protective gear as was mandatory at the start of their day, but his mind was constantly trying to wander to a certain poet. Curiosity was tickling him every other minute making him wonder if V had answered, how his day was going to be. Before Nero had to check the equipment on the firetruck, he managed to sneak in a check on his phone. Nothing.

He swallowed down a small but tangible lump of disappointment that formed in his throat, V was probably busy but Nero couldn’t help anticipating the answer so much. What if communication with V could become a daily occurrence? The thought made him smile a bit to himself and when he was cleaning the fire truck washing it down with a hose, he almost didn’t notice how one of his colleagues was talking to him at all.

Only at the third (loud) call did he look up and turn the hose off. Man, he needed to get his head in the game. Once the washing and equipment check of the firetruck was done, Nero rolled his shoulders and headed for his scheduled training. Running half an hour on the treadmill should help rebuild his focus, no matter how much he wished to have the massage therapist in mind for the entire day. He had work to do.

***

For the hours that followed, Nero didn’t count how many times he managed to check his phone but they were not as plentiful as he would have liked. Just disappointing each time as V had yet to reply to his text. It was with a sigh he put his phone down after every check.

Duty kept Nero busy for the rest of the day and when he returned alongside his colleagues to the fire station in the evening as they needed to fix themselves dinner he kept his back straight, chest a bit puffed out in pride.

It had been a busy day with responding to fire calls in several parts of the city, once in a park where some teenagers had been playing around a bit too much with a lighter and a trashcan, once in an apartment building where someone had forgotten a pan on the stove. The latter was a scenario that happened a bit more frequently than he would have liked but luckily, neither of these incidents had turned too serious. Nobody was hurt, but there had been smoke and scorch marks in the incidents’ wake.

But damage to buildings and environments could be repaired, lives couldn’t.

Nero shrugged off his jacket, feeling the familiar weight of the protective fabric as he put the garment into his locker. His colleagues were discussing dinner alternatives all over the locker room while he fished out his phone from his bag and his heart leapt.

There was a reply.

“I’m at work as well. If you do not mind us meeting up in the morning, Saturday will be fine. I need not be at work until 14:00. I wish you luck at work.”

Nero’s lips pulled back in a grin as he was quick to answer.

“Sounds like we’ve got a brunch date then” Abrupt stop as he checked what he was actually writing and quickly erased the words. It was not like they had… agreed to start dating or something. God, he’d love if that was the case, especially after that almost-kiss that had happened but stating it as such in a text message… what if it was too soon? Nero didn’t like the thought of backing down, but this time, his gut told him to rethink it. Just meet up with V and gauge how he might be feeling, without calling it a date beforehand. Nero started his message over.

“Sounds fine to me, let’s meet up for brunch? What do you say, around 11?” Nero was about to send the message, then hesitated and added a: “Hope work’s not too stressful for you.”

Aaand sent!

Nero wasn’t expecting a fast reply since V was at work as well right now, so when the cellphone vibrated the second he was about to put it back in the locker, his heart almost skipped a beat. A wave of eagerness surged in his stomach as he read.

“11:00 works perfectly. I am looking forward to it.”

Those simple words made Nero stare, his heart warming up as if he’d suddenly been hugged. There was no stopping the grin on his face as he wrote back.

“Me too.” And on his lips, that grin remained for the rest of the evening, until he had to try and sleep in his bunk at the fire station.

***

After a quick exchange of messages in the morning it was decided that they would meet up at the café, rather than walk together from their apartment buildings. V had an errand at the library before their meeting so he was already waiting outside the café, with one hand on his cane and the other on his book of poems when Nero caught sight of him, feeling his heart leap in his chest as he approached. Once again, V was dressed in a cotton shirt over a t-shirt and black pants that fit him just right reading as he stood in the shade but Nero could hardly blame him as the sunlight was warming his own back, it was gonna be a hot day. He did notice a slight slouch had returned to V’s shoulders however.

“Hey V, wait long?” The grin appeared on his face by itself. Nero was certain he was early just to be safe, at least ten minutes but V had nevertheless beat him to it.

“Hello Nero. Not at all, I just got here.” V smiled, gently closing his book and putting it away in a small bag hanging from his shoulder.

Nero pulled the door open and held it up for V before entering himself, the chill of the air condition welcoming them, as well as the barista behind the counter. All kinds of sandwiches, pastries and cakes in different shapes and sizes were at display behind the glass and a lot of them looked tasty for sure, even though Nero wasn’t the biggest fan of sweets. He already knew what he wanted, an ice coffee because of the summer heat, and his usual order.

V on the other hand, seemed to regard the many choices for a bit longer, his gaze lingering on both the food and drink choices listed on the board behind the counter as well.

“Do you have any recommendations? I believe it’s the first time I’m here.”

“Oh yeah, uh… the roast beef sandwich is great, that’s what I’m getting. The chicken and pesto sandwich is good too, the shrimp salad is nothing to scoff at, but you better be prepared for a big portion.” Truth be told, V could probably use that. Except Nero had a feeling V wouldn’t be able to finish it since that dish was a BIG plate, with a mountain of salad, shrimps and eggs, to name just some things.

With his lean frame V didn’t really give the impression of being a big eater. And he had just barely finished that Chinese meal the other night. “Or the roasted tomato sandwich with mozzarella... What?” Nero asked as V seemed to observe him, a hint of amusement visible in his green eyes.

“Nothing, I’m just noting that you seem to have tried out a lot of the options on offer.” The massage therapist said with a small smile.

The tips of Nero’s ears turned red.

“Yeah, I guess.” He murmured and there was a reason for that. Kyrie loved coming here, it was her favorite café. And now he was here with a sorta date? At least someone he was very interested to go on a date with and she didn’t know. Nero wasn’t sure how to tell her, or even if… it was a big deal to tell her. It had been months since they broke up and they had parted as friends, so either of them moving along with a new interest was just natural after all. But Kyrie was also important to him. He had known her for most of his life after all. There just wasn’t any romantic feelings between them anymore, that was all. He still cared greatly about her, but in a different way than the relationship they had, had called for.

V seemed to notice the thoughtful look on his face.

“Is something the matter?”

“Huh? Never mind. You decided?” It took another minute or two until V did decide, just before there would be a line behind them. Carrying their ordered drinks the two men went to a table in the back, next to the window and sat down across from each other.

“So, that meeting thing you had to go to resolved itself?” Nero wondered, taking a sip of his iced coffee while trying hard not to stare at how V’s open shirt and v-collared t-shirt showed off some of his intricate tattoos.

V let his cane lean against his seat before taking a sip of the tea he had ordered, it smelled of fresh mint, along with an herbal scent Nero couldn’t place.

“It did, as a matter of fact. Or should I say... the solution was finalized, this morning. There was an urgent problem with the venue we had arranged, for the poetry reading I told you about. I asked the manager at the library if it is possible for us to have our poetry reading there. I received a positive response.” V smirked.

“Wow, that’s great.” Nero felt a slight relief at the fact. Poetry might fly over his head most of the time, why try to analyze what words meant instead of just writing exactly what they meant? To V however, it seemed to be of great interest. “So everything’s fixed, no postponing or anything?”

“Thankfully, no. There is just the matter of spreading the word of our new location for it, via social media and the like. Speaking of the poetry reading…” V locked eyes with him, his lips curled upwards in a small smile. “I was wondering if you would like to come? The event is free for all.”

Nero felt the butterflies in his stomach return full force from their slumber. Was V asking him out? Or was he trying to make up for that moment that a phone call had stolen from them? Or was this his way of introducing Nero to his hobbies? It could be all three. Or none.

The tingling feeling in his stomach made him sure he wanted to find out which.

“Sure, I’ll come. When is it?” He grinned. Even if he didn’t get the exact meaning of the poems, if V was the one quoting with that smooth voice of his… yeah, Nero had a feeling he’d enjoy it anyway.

“Next Saturday, at 7 in the evening.”

Nero did a quick mental check of his schedule, groaning as he realized something.

“Dammit I got work that day, 24-hour shift.”

“I see. That’s unfortunate.” V said with a small nod, taking another sip of his tea.

“Yeah… there’s a chance I can switch shifts with someone though, I’ll ask around.” Nero just didn’t have a lot of hope for it, as having Saturday free… yeah, that was kind of in high demand, among some of his colleagues. Nero usually didn’t mind working that shift, it was one of the busiest ones usually, but he liked to keep busy when he was working. Once he had turned single Saturday hadn’t felt as important to have free, suddenly. Until now, that was.

V paused, keeping his teacup hovering just centimeters from his mouth as his green eyes searched Nero’s. A small smile grew on his lips.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to try. If it isn’t possible for you to come, I understand. You have a very important job, for example.” He said, taking that small sip of tea that he had been stalling.

“Yeah sure, but I’ll give it a try. If I can, or can’t make it, I’ll let you know.” Nero grinned.

“Very well.” V agreed, his smile widening a little bit.

A waiter in white clothes with a black apron came by with their ordered food items. Nero felt his mouth water at the glorious roast beef sandwich and some salad on the side that was placed in front of him and his butterfly-assaulted stomach wasn’t used to having to wait so long after waking for some food. V had followed his recommendation and gotten the same meal, his eyes glancing a bit curiously at the sandwich on his plate.

Nero was hungry enough to forgo his utensils, the sandwich might be tall but he didn’t need to dislodge his jaw to take a bite. Crispy bread, juicy meat and fresh salad with a lightly spiced sauce entered his mouth, the flavors perfectly filling and just what he had come to expect from a roast beef sandwich at this place. The first bite was always the best.

Nero didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard a light chuckle from the other side of the table.

“I see that’s a favorite for you.” V said, clearly a bit amused as he grabbed a paper napkin and held it out to Nero. The firefighter blinked.

“Huh?”

V smiled.

“There is some sauce on your chin.”

Nero felt the tips of his ears burn as he fought the urge to just use the back of his hand to wipe it off. Instead he put down his sandwich and as he took the napkin from V, his fingers lightly brushed against the massage therapist’s. For a second, it felt like time stopped and every heartbeat was so loud he could hear it vibrate through his ears. Pulsate in his fingers right where they had connected. V’s fingers felt just as warm as his today.

The flush spread over Nero’s ears all the way to his cheeks as his racing heart made him pull away, stumbling out a “thanks” as he wiped the sauce off his chin while also using the napkin as a shield to hide his blush. Jeez, what was he, a lovestruck high schooler?! Nero felt stupid for pulling away so soon, but one glance at V who took another sip of his tea, seemingly unfazed, told him he might be overreacting. Or so he thought, but there was a soft amusement in those jade depths...

Nero wasn’t going to let this turn awkward, he forced his lips to turn into a cocky grin when he pulled down the napkin, sauce disaster averted. And his face felt a bit less hot, thankfully. They made small talk while continuing eating their meals and Nero managed to keep it less sloppy actually using the fork and knife when it came to eating the salad once the sandwich was gone. With the fork he pierced a slice of tomato.

“So, what do you think?” V had cut up and eaten a few pieces of it, but Nero noted the tea seemed to appeal to him more, half the cup already being gone while he couldn’t say the same for the sandwich. And the salad was already all gone.

“It’s good.” V smirked, that hint of amusement emerging in his green eyes. “I suppose my reaction must seem pretty mild compared to yours.”

Nero grinned, scratching his nose.

“Or mine’s just too excited.” He pointed out feeling so confirmed as V chuckled in response.

“Nothing wrong with enjoying what you like.” They had some time before V had to go to work, or at least so Nero hoped so because… well, there was something he wanted to clarify. But damn, was the thought of doing so terrifying… His stomach flipped around the delicious food in his stomach as if it was starting up a maelstrom.

V was just… so interesting, Nero wanted to know more about him. Hang out with him, hear more of that soft chuckle of his. Share a kiss, share experiences. The idea felt so new, so positive and he hoped with every fiber of his being that V was open to the suggestion as well. But just then V started another topic to speak about and Nero was pulled along to the melodic tone of his deep, alluring voice.

For a while it felt like they talked about everything and nothing. Time and conversation just flowed with them learning new snippets of information about each other. Tastes in music and shows, V told him a bit of his love for poetry, while Nero told of his hobby to sometimes go climbing. Nero shared how he had a dream of being a dog once while V admitted he sometimes spent time at an animal shelter, taking care of the cats and dogs that came in. They spoke of food and habits, with V admitting he often had a hard time eating breakfast in the morning, he usually found himself skipping it or simply drinking only a cup of tea. Without thinking, it made Nero offer to make him breakfast sometime, it just felt natural to do and he wanted to. The small smile that formed on V’s lips from the offer would never seize sending the butterflies in Nero’s stomach off in flight.

Between them there was a curious, positive atmosphere and Nero loved every second of it. So much so that it felt like a stone dropped into his stomach when soft, almost melancholy notes of a violin could be heard from V’s bag. The poet opened up the zipper and pulled out his phone from the bag, his expression turning apologetic.

“My, look at the time… I’m afraid I must be off, if I wish to arrive at work in time.” V said, that sound they had both had heard seemed to be from his set alarm.

“Oh, got it.” A breath left Nero in a rush, these words wished to be said. “I had a great time.” A grin tugged at his lips and would those butterflies in his stomach ever tire themselves out because as V rose from his seat, giving Nero a soft smile, their tiny wings gently fluttered against the inside of his stomach, making him want to gaze upon that smile forever and ever.

“As did I.” V assured gently, pulling the strap of his bag over his head, fixing it to his shoulder. “Do let me know if you will be able to make it on Saturday. But please remember that it’s quite fine if you can’t make it. Work is work, after all.”

“Promise I will. But I’ll try to get the day free.” Nero pointed out, scrambling to get ready to leave as well. Besides, he had taken the weekend shifts for others before so hopefully someone could switch with him for once.

V just gave him a grateful smile. Nero pulled open the cafe door for them both, letting V exit first before following.

“I parked my car nearby, it’s fine if you wish to separate here.” V told him.

Nero didn’t want to separate at all, but of course he knew they had to eventually. It was impossible to not look forward to when they would meet next. Hopefully the coming Saturday. But how was he to say goodbye now, without having asked what he felt he should have? Where did they stand now? Was this coming Saturday to consider as a date? Had that close to kiss between them just been a fluke?

Would asking V about it destroy this wonderful, carefree atmosphere between them? Or was he waiting for it with his heart set on an answer?

“Yeah, well, I guess we should…” He started, holding back the urge to ask when he suddenly felt V’s hand on his arm.

Warmth. Something soft against his cheek. His mind felt completely blank until he realized that it was a kiss, an actual kiss from V’s plump, lovely lips being placed against his cheek.

It felt like he went to heaven, like his feet would start floating and bring his entire body upward.

As he blinked with warmth spreading in his cheeks, making them a blossoming red and his eyes wide, he found V smirking in that devilish way he had so come to love.

“Thank you for the lovely date. If not possible earlier, I’ll see you in a week.” V said, his smirk remaining in place as he started to make his leave.

Any and all nervous tension of what their flirting tango would bring left, the butterflies turning to a fluttery but lovely warmth in Nero’s stomach. And he felt sure he’d do anything to get that next Saturday free!

“I’ll see you at the poetry reading!” Nero promised, his stomach flopping as he realized he had been too starstruck to answer at first, his cheek still feeling so warm… He grinned widely at V, feeling as if the next time they could meet couldn’t come soon enough. If sooner than Saturday was possible, he would take it for sure. But if not, then he would do all he could to make sure that Saturday would work.

V stopped in his slow but deliberate stride, straightening his slouch slightly to present him that smirk again, along with a wave.

“Saturday then.”

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Hope you enjoyed! ❤️❤️❤️

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