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hogwartsandhawkins · 6 months

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Prove Me Wrong

Chapter 14: Wonderin' Where I Am

If you need to catch up, here's the masterlist

Summary: Things become tense at Christmas Dinner

Warnings: Swearing, angst, mentions of bruising, mentions of Neil. As always let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.4k

Authors Note: I had to give Jess a walking down the stairs in a dress scene. She deserves it

Jess awoke Christmas Eve morning with a knot in her stomach. It was currently 9:22 AM, which was much too early for her to be up considering she was up with Billy Hargrove until about 4 in the morning last night.

It had been a little over a week since they watched Friday the 13th, and almost every night after Billy had been over, whether her parents knew about it or not. He had left her alone the couple nights following that one, not wanting to come off as desperate or pushy, until eventually, he used the excuse of their shared project that he honestly couldn’t care less about. The week started off with him just coming over for homework, but quickly turned to him knocking on her window and her pretending not to notice new bruises forming or new cuts appearing. She had tried a few times to offer ice or Neosporin, but her offers were always waived away. After the third fight resulting in Billy seeking sanctuary, Jess let it go. He mentioned how irritable his dad gets towards the Holidays, and how he’s forced to stay home longer to “take his mandatory vacation”, which explained the constant fighting. It came to a point where Billy was able to avoid the fighting entirely, exchanging the nights spent at home with nights with Jess. It became a strange constant with them, and Jess always wondered how her parents would feel if they found out about her sneaking a boy into her room late at night and allowing him to stay until after Mr. Logan left for work.

She also wondered how Steve would feel.

He, like her parents, had no idea how she was truly spending her nights. And though she had seen him as well since school was let out for break, the subject of Billy never truly came up, unless, of course, he asked about her project. Now that they would be under the same roof for Christmas Eve, however, she worried that it might come out, that Billy would divulge details of their strange new friendship, whether it be accidental or to get a rise out of Steve.

Jess slowly slid out of her bed, her legs fighting to stay under the warmth of her covers. If it had been any other morning after spending all night with Billy, she would have looked at the clock and immediately went back to sleep. She felt the need to be ready today. She felt the need to prepare. She shuffled over to her dresser, staring at the disheveled hair and large, swollen eye bags she was currently sporting. She hung her head for a moment, finding the energy to walk to her closet and search her closet for the dress that she wore last year. Once her legs decided to move, she opened her closet and walked over the clothes, shoes, and gear to make it to the back, where the red satin dress hung for a year. She unhooked it along with the hanger and stumbled over to the door again, laying it delicately on her bed, the end of it draping over her footboard. She rubbed the fabric of the right sleeve between her fingers before walking out of her room to the bathroom, looking forward to her warm shower.

Turning on the shower head, she placed her hand under the running water, instantly regretting not waiting another minute, the cold water piercing her wrist and palm; an immense contrast to sleeping in her sweatshirt under her comforter. She stripped from her clothes, using the sweatshirt to dry her wet hand, hoping to warm it some, before placing the opposite hand under the water. The water was much warmer now, though not yet at the temperature she preferred. However, she stepped in anyway, knowing that it would feel much better than the cold she was feeling now.

Jess huddled underneath the water, her muscles relaxing more as it gradually became warmer. When she no longer felt the chill that came with the lack of clothes, she began lathering shampoo in her hair and soap on her body, careful to take her time. She needed everything to go perfect, to look perfect, to smell perfect. Though she couldn’t quite put a pin into why it needed to be perfect, Jess chalked it up to having both the Harrington’s and the Hargrove’s over in one night. Of course, there was Billy, who was now continuously giving her butterflies and causing her to second guess everything she ever did around him, this wasn’t the only factor that was making her overanalyze everything.

She would have new people in her home, Max, whom she wasn’t too worried about if she was being honest, Susan, whom she hasn’t really said a single word to since meeting her, and Neil. Neil was what made her stomach churn the most. She was aware that he would be around her intimate area now, her home. And that he would be around her mother for the first time, which scared her even more. She knew of his temper, though also knew of his ability to hold his temper around company. Which is why she wanted everything to be perfect, not necessarily for her sake, but for both Billy and Max.

She stepped out and wrapped her towel around her as quickly as possible, attempting to beat the cold air. She flipped the toilet lid down and sat there for a moment, still exhausted from the lack of sleep. When she finally stood up again, she picked up her clothes that were scattered on the bathroom floor and began to walk back to her bedroom, deciding to finish getting ready for the evening in there.

When Jess heard the doorbell ring for the first time tonight, she hurried out the hall to the stairs, anxious to see who it was. When she saw Neil and Susan enter first, she immediately slowed her pace down the steps, wanting her parents to be the first to greet them. She then saw Billy walk through the door, wearing a hardened, distorted smile. He began to look back at someone behind him, who Jess assumed was Max, and started to open his mouth. Before he was able to speak, however, Jess caught his attention as she continued to slowly walk down the stairs.

Billy’s wry smile fell suddenly as he took in her appearance. Her hair was pinned back on one side, sweeping it out of her freshly done face, the makeup look being something he remembered from the party they had recently attended, the only difference being that her lips were now lightly tinted red, which matched the red silk that was draped perfectly over her body. His eyes left her lips to the sweetheart neckline that fell below the hems of the sleeves, which met with the dress in the middle of her shoulders, accentuating her collarbone. The extra fabric of the sleeves made them puff faintly before fitting tightly below her elbow where they ended. Billy continued to gaze at her in amazement, his eyes finally arriving at the A-line skirt that hugged her figure until it met the top of her hips, breaking away and flaring ever so slightly.

He returned to her lips again. She was smiling at him the way she normally did, but Billy Hargrove felt everything but normal in that moment. He began to open his mouth to speak again, but Max grew tired of him blocking the doorway, which he had been doing without him realizing until Jess made it completely down the stairs.

“Move, asshole,” Max whispered, shoving Billy out of the way, closing the door behind her. She then caught a glimpse at Jess as well and stole Billy’s words from him, “Holy shit, Jess, you look amazing!”

“Maxine! Language!”

Max gave an apologetic smile to her mother, who was then reassured by Jess’s mother that it was alright and mumbled something about Max being right.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jess said sheepishly, “It’s just the dress I wore last year, so…” She began to look back at Billy before being called by her mother to introduce herself to the Hargroves, again. Jess turned away from the two for a moment, allowing Billy to take in the back of the dress, which plunged under her shoulder blades. Billy’s eyes roamed down her body for a moment, then looked shamefully down to his feet. He began to feel uncomfortable with the amount of people in the room, partially wishing it were just the two of them.

But then, what exactly would he do if it were just the two of them?

Nothing.

It had always been just the two of them. And yet, here he was, still painfully aware of how she was able to make his heart stop within a second and still not willing to do a single thing about it. His mind continued to race, becoming frustrated that she looked like this, and he was unable to tell her just how beautiful she was to him.

And then, the doorbell rang. Knowing who it was, Billy ushered Max to the living room where the parents were standing, brushing passed Jess as she made her way toward the door. Mrs. Logan pulled Billy in a tight hug, telling him how happy she was to have him there, letting go to do the same thing for Max.

Jess quickly turned the door handle to reveal a shivering Steve Harrington, who had a small stack of presents in his right arm, his other free to pull Jess into a hug before stepping forward to allow his parents in.

“Heyyy girl, look at you! You look great!” Steve then grabbed the wrapped boxes with both hands, pointing with them to his right. “Where you want these?” Jess nodded her head to where he was pointing, feeling Mrs. Harrington hug her from behind.

“Merry Christmas, love,” she said warmly, walking over with her husband to greet the Logans. Steve began to carry the presents under the tree when he stopped abruptly.

“What the f-“

“I told you, we were having other people over…” Jess nudged Steve secretly, as if asking him to behave.

He bent his head down slightly to her level, still not taking his eyes off Billy. “You never said he was the ‘other people’.”

Jess feigned a smile, looking up at Steve and then back at the crowd they had in the living room. “Max is here too, you know…” She then looked over at Billy as well, who now had a smug smile plastered on his face, crossing his arms as he sized up Steve for a moment.

“Hey there, Harrington.”

Steve snorted out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he walked straight to the tree.

“Oh, Steve!” Mrs. Logan took the presents from him, hugging and wishing him a Merry Christmas. “You know Billy? He told us you were on the team together. His father is the new security guard at Stan’s job. Stan?”

Mr. Logan looked away from the conversation he was having with both the Hargroves and the Harringtons. “Yeah, hun? Oh, yes.” He broke away from the group and walked toward Steve, patting him on the back before steering him toward Mr. and Mrs. Hargrove to properly introduce him to the rest. “… And of course, you know their son Billy…”

Steve cocked his head back, staring at Billy with the same intensity that Billy was staring at him. Jess watched as Steve clenched his jaw before speaking. “Yup,” he muttered, clearing his throat, “he’s just, great.” The sarcasm dripping from his compliment caught Mr. Logan off guard, causing him to whip his head to face Steve, and then Billy, furrowing his eyebrows at the both of them in confusion.

“Ookaayy…” But before Mr. Logan could question it further, Max moved Billy out of the way to greet Steve, excited to see him finally this break.

“Hey! Great job on Dustin’s hair, by the way, he didn’t look like a total freakazoid like I thought he would.”

Steve chuckled lightly, “Hey kid. I actually didn’t do it; it was all him.” He then peered behind him, leaning back to give Jess another annoyed look. “If I would have known you were coming, I would have got you something…” He made sure to speak loud enough for Jess to hear while she pretended she didn’t.

Mrs. Logan clapped her hands once, asking for everyone’s attention. “Dinner’s just about ready and the table is set… so if everyone wants to go take their seats while me and Stan get everything out…”

Mrs. Harrington of course refused to sit without helping, patting Stan lightly and inviting him to go sit with her husband, which he did reluctantly. The grown-ups happened to migrate towards the end closest to the kitchen, leaving the opposite end for Jess, Steve, Max, and Billy. Jess took the seat on the corner, Max sitting across from her. Steve took the chair to Jess’s right, which left the seat at the end of the table for Billy.

Billy brushed passed Jess’s chair, sitting to her left at the end. He continued to give Steve a sly smirk, but when Jess would catch his eye, he dropped it and avoided eye contact with her, which she thought to be strange.

“So Hargrove, what you been up to so far, huh? Drinking with Tommy get boring yet?”

Billy snickered bitterly at Steve’s statement, “You know what, Harrington? I haven’t actually seen Hagen yet. Like I said, I’ve just been doing whatever this one says.” He tapped Jess’s hand, still without looking at her.

“So homework then. Isn’t that fun...”

Billy grinned at Steve again, swiping his teeth like he normally did when contemplating how to ruin Steve’s day. His eyes shot at Jess momentarily before locking in on Steve again, biting the inside of his cheek. “So that’s what she’s been telling you, huh?”

Jess’s back straightened suddenly as she turned toward Billy with wide eyes. She shook her head as carefully as she could so that Steve wouldn’t notice. When Billy finally faced her, her eyebrows contorted with her irritation and horror. However, her face relaxed a bit as she watched Billy’s features change as well. He clenched his jaw for a moment as his eyes displayed what Jess could have sworn was anger before he leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes away from her, staring toward the other end of the table.

Steve had not noticed his change in demeanor, however. He was currently nodding his head in disbelief. He laughed through his nose, looking at Max, who immediately shrugged her shoulders, and then looked at Jess, holding an annoyed smile as he clicked his tongue with the roof of his mouth. He leaned in so his shoulder was against Jess’s, now looking away to not give off the impression that he was questioning her. “What the hell is he talking about…”

“I don’t even know. He’s just being stupid.” Jess looked pointedly back over at Billy, watching the way his jaw clamped even tighter when he heard her excuse.

Mrs. Logan and Mrs. Harrington began to bring out large dishes, Mrs. Logan placed the mashed potatoes at the teens’ end, being sure to mention she knew how much both Billy and Steve enjoyed them. Both boys smile at her politely before glancing in each other’s direction, Steve looking more vexed than Billy did.

“Alright, gang, let’s eat!” Mr. Logan announced, causing Steve to get up as quickly as possible, his mismatched chair dragging against the floor loudly. Everyone else followed suit, making their way to the food they were currently loading their plates with. The only two who remained by their seats were Billy and Jess.

Billy slowly added mashed potatoes to his plate, Jess staring at him, obviously displeased.

“What.”

“What happened to behaving?”

“What happened to ‘friends don’t lie’?”

“I’m not lying!” Jess hissed, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was interested enough to listen in on their conversation.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he said, his tone accusatory. He then plopped the serving spoon back in the potatoes rather aggressively, but when he looked up and met her eyes again, the anger he held in his gaze melted away. Though he was irritated with her, he knew most of the irritation stemmed from him being unable to relax around her like he was able to without Steve Harrington there to ruin it. He began to feel put out by the fact that no matter how many nights he spent with her, how many secrets he divulged, how many times he made her laugh, she would always choose Steve Harrington. And she would always choose to keep him a secret. Not that he could really blame her, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be bitter about it. Besides, he was in love with this girl, how could he not be bitter?

Fuck.

No. That couldn’t be true. He couldn’t actually be in love with her. There was no way. No way he was in love with the way she smiled, the way she looked at him when no one else was around. No way he was in love with quietly listening to her read to him as his mind continued to wander about whether she knew how much he loved seeing her pull her hair back in the clip she used only when they studied. No way that he secretly wished that she was in love with him too. There was no way. Because he didn’t even know what that word even meant. He clenched his jaw again, but this time it wasn’t out of anger. He left Jess standing there by herself, filling his plate even if he no longer had an appetite.

When everyone sat back down, the adults continued to talk amongst themselves, conversation ranging from work to what their neighbors have been up to. When the conversation shifted to the high school basketball tournament which was being held in late February, their attention turned to the boys sitting at the end of the table, who were now avoiding eye contact.

“How’s the team looking this year, son? We haven’t been to a game in a month it feels like.” Mr. Logan was looking over at Steve, which caused him to force the bit of turkey down with his water before he answered.

“Yeah, we had a few away games, but we’re doing okay I think. Looking good for February.” Steve looked over at his father, who gave him a nod of approval.

“Some of us are having trouble planting our feet.” Billy chimed in flatly, taking a forkful of mashed potatoes when he was done.

“You know,” Steve cleared his throat, turning his body to face Billy, “I’ve been noticing a different problem.” He then shifted his body back toward Mr. Logan, who, along with the rest of the adults, was eyeing both boys peculiarly. “We’ve been having problems fouling, you know what I mean. Some of us even get benched in the middle of some games because they can’t seem to figure out how not to go a game without a technical.”

Billy shrugged at this, smiling to himself as he continued to look down and eat his food. Jess looked up at Max, who was minding her business, happily putting away what was on her plate. She was either oblivious to what was happening, or simply didn’t care, Jess hadn’t decided. She then looked over at Steve, who had a hardened look on his face, his hair partially coming undone from how many times he ran his fingers through it tonight. And then there was Billy, who continued to look smug in his seat, occasionally giving Jess strange looks that she couldn’t decipher.

“The girls are getting ready for the bake sale,” Jess announced suddenly, attempting to change the subject and ease the tension that she wasn’t sure whether the rest of the party could feel yet.

“Oh, a bake sale? How fun!” Susan voiced with a smile, looking around the table for more elaboration.

“Oh yes, the girls on the cheer team always do a bake sale when the tournament starts,” Jess’s mom began, causing everyone’s attention to veer away from Jess’s end of the table, something she was grateful for.

Dinner ended with Mr. and Mrs. Logan placing both a pumpkin and apple pie on the table. Jess got up to get a slice of pumpkin, but only picked at it when she sat back down, ready for this exhausting night to be over. They continued to talk for what seemed like hours after the pie was brought out until finally, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington rose from the table.

Jess got up as well, hugging Steve goodbye and walking with him toward the door. “Sorry about… tonight,” she whispered, looking behind her as she spoke.

“Not like you invited him.” He looked over at Billy one last time before shaking his head.

“Right…”

Steve then raised his hand, now looking over at Max, “See ya, kid.”

“BYE!”

Steve then gave Jess a sympathetic smile before following his parents out the door, looking back as she gave him one last goodbye. Jess then closed the door behind them, turning back to the rest of the table.

“Well thank you so much, Stan, Bev, we should probably get-“

“Wait, Jess, can I see you’re TV first?” Max interrupted her mother, excitedly moving her chair back and walking around Billy.

“Uh, yeah, sure. If it’s okay with your mom.”

Susan looked over at Neil, who was now wearing a tight-lined smile, something that made Jess anxious. “Sure. Sure, honey. But then we have to leave.”

“Sure, mom,” was all Max said in response. Max then ran up the stairs as if she already knew where her room was. Jess took her time walking up the steps, careful to not catch one of her heels on the edge of a stair, and finally made it to a bouncing Max.

Jess opened her bedroom door, Max rushing in without hesitation.

“You’re room’s so cool.”

“It’s alright I guess.”

“I would kill to have a room this big.” Max was now walking around to the other side of the bed where she suddenly made a strange face. “Why do you have beer under your bed? I thought you hated beer.

“Oh shit.” Jess quickly made it to where Max was standing, slowly bending down to retrieve what was left of Billy’s six-pack he had a week ago. “Shit, where do I put this.” She then opened her closet and kicked off her heels, walking over her mound of items before settling the beer in the far corner, being sure to throw a decent amount of clothes over them before leaving.

“You’re messy.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Were those Billy’s?”

“Why do you ask?”

“They’re the same ones he always gets.”

Jess sighed. Knowing Max, she wasn’t going to get away without answering her questions. “Yes, they’re Billy’s.”

“You guys spend a weird amount of time together,” Max walked away from the bed, heading toward the TV, running her hands over it before looking back at Jess, “Is that why he was acting all weird tonight?”

“MAX?”

Saved by the bell.

Max rolled her eyes and groaned. “COMING!” She opened the door and quickly ran down the stairs. By the time Jess made it downstairs as well, the Hargroves/Mayfields already had their coats on and were migrating toward the door.

“Thank you so much for having us over, tonight, we had a great time.”

Everyone said their polite goodbyes as Billy fiddled with something inside his coat pocket. He slowly walked over to Jess and without looking at her, he asked, “Walk me out?”

Jess found his question odd, considering how angry he seemed to be with her only moments ago. But of course, she nodded in agreeance. Billy walked over to the Logan’s coat hanger without delay and grabbed one that looked like it belonged to her, draping it over Jess’s shoulders lightly before following his family out the door.

When his father opened his car door and turned to him expectantly, Billy cleared his throat, looking down at the pavement before cautiously looking back at him.

“I’ll walk.”

“Son, get in-“

“Neil it’s okay, we’re only down the road anyways.”

Neil gritted his teeth for a moment before sliding into the driver’s side. Susan smiled apologetically at Jess, entering the car after her husband. Before speaking, Billy watched his parents’ car drive further away, causing Jess to become anxious.

“Billy, what-“

“Are we friends, Jess?”

“What? Billy what are you even-“

“Are we friends.”

“Well, yeah…”

“Does pretty boy know that?” Billy pointed out toward the road with his thumb, assuming the direction of where Steve was at the moment.

“What, you want me to tell him that you sneak into my room whenever you want?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Of course he doesn’t know. Does Tommy or Carol know? Does Jane-“

“You know what, they just might.” Billy stared into her, the look of disappointment obviously embedded in his features.

“Billy, I-“

He cut her off by reaching into the pocket he was fiddling with and taking out a small, wrapped present. The wrapping was folded into a square and was mostly flat besides where the presented rested between the paper.

“Open it tomorrow. Or tonight. Whatever.”

“Billy…”

“Just let me know when I need to come back over to finish our shit.”

“Wait…”

He looked her over one last time, taking in her dress that he probably would never have the pleasure of seeing her in again. He sighed, dropping his gaze as he walked closer to her before looking back up. He took one of her sleeves between his index finger and thumb, rubbing it softly just as Jess did this morning. After a moment of staying silent, he looked away again, finally saying what he wanted to all this time.

“You looked beautiful tonight, Jess…” He nodded to himself after saying this, as if he were agreeing with himself, and turned away, walking back toward his house.

Taglist: @nix-rose @fandom-princess-forevermore @ooo---hazelgrimm---ooo @axionn @defenslessheart-main @the-lost-are-ignored

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vldsideblog · 1 year

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It’s a known fact that Keith Kogane doesn’t sleep well. Between the insomnia and night terrors, it’s a welcome relief if he sleeps through the night. However he tends to make up some of those missing hours during the day. This can lead to some interesting situations.

It had taken months for Keith to really trust Shiro and Adam, to see them as family. But when he did become truly comfortable around them they were surprised at his uncanny ability to fall asleep literally anywhere.

On the floor? Yup. At the kitchen table? Happens every week. On top of the washing machine while waiting for his clothes to dry? Absolutely. In the car? Yeah. Hanging upside down off the couch? All the fucking time. On the roof of their garrison issued house? Way too often.

One day Shiro came home from a grocery run while Adam was at a meeting on campus to find his little brother curled up in a kitchen cabinet. When asked about this Keith just said it sounded like a good idea at the time and went to his room to play Minecraft. Eventually this just became part of life. The sky was blue, velvet was a bad texture, and Keith tended to fall asleep in weird places.

When the Kerberos mission failed, (and was covered up) this didn’t change. The old shack didn’t have an actual bed so the teen took to sleeping on the musty couch. But there were days that he was to tired to drag himself to the cushions and blankets, so he often woke up to find himself in random places.

The empty bathtub was a common one, as was the kitchen counter. On the dusty rug, in the corner under the table, even standing up. But Keith never really realized that this was a strange habit and just went with it. Besides if the only living thing to see you was a dying cactus, did social rules really matter. Even if you didn’t follow them in the first place.

Being in a space war kinda made things a bit more difficult.

For one, The Castle Of Lions was huge. Rooms upon rooms of the ghosts of Altean past. Furniture, trinkets, technology, art, everything. This meant there were lots of places to hide, and for an introvert like the red paladin, these secret places became a safe haven of quiet and calmness.

Now Keith had been diagnosed as autistic while back at the garrison, after Shiro realized how similar his mannerisms were to those of the Holt’s and Adam. This explained a lot of things for the teenager, his angry outbursts, were meltdowns. His social awkwardness was a misunderstanding of social cues. Even his troubles with food were just sensory issues.

So this led to him needing a lot of alone time to decompress after any interaction with others, especially the very loud energetic paladins of Voltron. Basically he spent a lot of his free time when not training, to wander the empty hallways and rooms. And as his sleeping habits had only gotten worse while in space and away from any stable routine, he took naps all over the place.

At least once a week some member of the crew ran into Keith, passed out in some strange location. Hunk often stumbled upon him in the kitchen, sometimes on the counters, at the bar, or even in the large pantry while looking for a snack.

Pidge tended to spot him asleep in the hanger, curled up near Red after a bad nightmare. Not that they knew that. Sometimes he even climbed onto Red’s head just to nap.

Lance often found him fully clothed curled up in a bathtub in the common area bathroom, at least he looked comfortable.

Allura would often spot him asleep in some strange contorted position in his chair on the bridge.

Coran tended to get the shit scared out of him while working on the inner workings of the castle, when he would see the red paladin passed out in some random alcove.

Shiro often ran into his unconscious brother while he was taking his own late night walks around the castle. Keith wasn’t the only one with nightmares after all. Keith would be tucked into a corner in the hallway, or had shoved himself under a random table. Shiro would just chuckle to himself and carry the sleeping teen to his own bed.

Now while these sleeping habits weren’t exactly healthy, they never caused much of a problem. Until they did.

After a battle gone wrong Keith always found himself in the training room battling out his frustration on one of the bots. But he would be sluggish and overestimate his ability at the time. After getting beat up by the gladiator while sleep deprived too many times Shiro insisted that the automatic bots be shut off after combat. Keith would just have to settle for an old fashioned dummy.

His strange habits never really changed, the nightmares continued. But he eventually came to understand that he wasn’t alone, and found some better ways to get a bit more sleep.

Keith was just a weird ass sleeper and that fact became a part of the day to day routine.

This fic is also crossposted on ao3

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moonrevolutions · 1 month

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✌!

°✩₊˚.⋆ @rosecoloredmuses. meme. still accepting!

i grew up very segregated from modern technology for a long time even tho ive been on the internet since like 1998....... because i wasnt very interested in upgrading and because of infrastructure. did yall know i rp'd on vi til 2018 on basically dial-up internet? where downloading a gif would take 30 minutes? i grew up in a shotgun-style house w. my grandma on a homestead? homestead? is that the politically correct word

who gives a shit lol, internet politicking and word policing makes me sick

i grew up on a pretty isolated piece of land where we grew our own own veggies n fruits, our own chickens roamed around the yard and laid eggs wherever and those were our eggs, our house didnt have a bathroom until 1987 just a few years before i was born because we had an outhouse. and tbh i think that's cool..... lol.

runnin thru the woods, pickin mullberries and making wine from it in milk jugs every spring and summer. climbin the roof and repairing the tin and replacing it + that tin soundin real good when it rains... that's just stuff normies cant experience and i feel sorry for pansies that dont know how to rough it. my house never had a dryer. we washed our clothes with washboard and hung them to dry til we got a washing machine. still got the clothes hanger tho no dryer still lol.

its also a cat sanctuary! people used our area as an animal dumping group and while we did get the occasional dog, we had over 40+ cats at one point. we built little shelters for them, fed them with the little money we had.

it's still like that to this day. my grandma is 92 years old and still holdin shit down like that.

anyway it's hard writing vi sometimes as a very modern City Boy™ because i dont even really have experience as someone that's lived in a small town lol.

i kno i act like a feral, evil fucking demon from the woods

that's because i am.

#*･༓☾ ooc! lava rains on diamond planets.#rosecoloredmuses #/ me built different? yuh.#/ do i hate city slickin weaklings... i sure do.....

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primelaundrylondonsblog · 2 days

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This content is originally published on Prime Laundry’s Website: Iron Service Near Me: Revealing the Complete Laundry Experience

#Ironing Clothes Near Me #Ironing Service Near Me #Ironing Services #Ironing Services Prices #Ironing Shop Near Me

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shahipakwaancateringsericesinhy · 2 months

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Cloth Drying Roof Hanger in Hyderabad

Ceiling cloth drying hangers are installed at the roof of the balconies. The hangers can be moved in upward and downward movement by pulling the nylon ropes. These rods are anti-rust saving the clothes from unwanted rust. By installing ceiling cloth roof hangers you can save a lot of space in your balconies at the same time aids the clothes in drying faster. As the clothes are near to the roof they will not block air or sunlight entering into the house. These rods are customize according to once needs and choice.

Shop No. 4, 1-622, Troop Bazaar, Koti, Hyderabad, Telangana 500001

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asideablog · 4 months

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Latchkey Kid

I came home from school to an empty house, pretty much always. The winter I was 8 I was walking home alone (as always) from basketball practice after school. The snow was really deep, or I was quite small, as I couldn’t walk outside of the single truck's tire tracks that had plowed through likely minutes earlier in the day without immense effort. Probably these tracks were Dr. L getting home from his day at the vet clinic.

I desperately wanted to be part of Dr. L’s house. I so envied his girls, they seemed like they had everything: all the kinds of intelligence with a sense of fashion and brand name clothes. The whole family was outgoing and beautiful. And they had each other, four girls and two parents all under one roof. I wasn’t like them.

I pushed forward in the tracks, feeling my socks bunch and slide into my toes in my oversized boots from Zellers. Always bought a size or two too large, as they needed to last for at least three winter seasons. Soon the tire tracks continued straight while I had to veer off home, to the door 50 feet from the road, a field of twilight snow over a foot deep between us. I was tired from the trudge, but I found a new form of energy — my mom wasn’t home yet, and she wouldn’t be home for another hour or so. The sooner I made it through that snow the sooner I would open that refrigerator. Time to eat.

Eating with my mother was a dance, a performance for her. I’d look for small changes to her face or body language to make sure I wasn’t offending her with my hunger. “Better in that garbage can than this one” she would say often as she pointed at the kitchen garbage and then to my stomach. This was said with differing emphasis as both a threat, demanding I not eat all the food on my plate at dinner, and as praise, when I followed her direction. Eating alone, though, that was just for me. And eat I would. Dry cereal, powdered drink mix both fruit and chocolate, pickles, cream of mushroom soup, microwaved potatoes with cheese, whatever I could get my hands on.

I started the food search cycle when I got home: deep freeze, pantry then fridge. I opened the deep freeze and my eyes got wide; my mother bought a pack of frozen tart shells. A big pack. One of those Costco sized boxes with sleeves and sleeves of them. Immediately I started eating pie crusts until my stomach ached and I felt like bursting. But I couldn’t stop here, I needed a supply. A windfall like this didn’t happen all too often, I’m usually stuck eating potatoes or soup. This, these balls of buttery dough, I wanted them. I needed them. I took a whole sleeve to my bedroom and hid it in my dresser, behind a pile of dirty clothes and a random pile of metal coat hangers, pens from various businesses around town, and scraps of cardboard.

The pie shells were only edible for a day or two. They started melting and growing mould at an astonishing pace. I was too ashamed to tell anyone about the new thing growing in my dresser, and my mother never entered my room for any time longer than a minute, so there it stayed. Hidden in plain sight, with no one caring to look.

#BED #short story #me

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where-the-poppies-blow · 5 months

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Chapter One

The heavens beat down their percussion on the old tin roofs.

A gaggle of washerwomen sang softly in French on a covered porch, voices wafting across the avenue as the deep blue of this rainy afternoon wore on into evenfall.

Elaine strode on up the street, her heeled boots clopping on cracked flagstones, long black skirt swishing about her legs, the blue ribbon in her hat trailing behind.

This town is where she would find her quarry, a hamlet cobbled from earth, logs and the ruins of some town whose name had long been lost to memory.

What few folk had decided to brave the drizzle to chatter in the eaves of the stores that lined the street, stopped and stared as she bustled past, eyeing the pistol that she held in her gloved hand.

It was an ugly thing, a boxy, mechanical, evil shape of sable steel with a strange wooden handle, it's barrel a fat angry needle that seemed almost hungry for blood.

Elaine came to a halt outside the old bank, its crumbling stone facade towered over her.

Boarded windows withheld all but the barest slivers of golden lamplight that glimmered and rippled on the wet ground.

A Gramophone whispered, muffled through the walls, a long dirge echoing out into the growing twilight.

French shop signs called down from every wall, their once bright words now faded and flaked with time.

Off to her left, a man sat high up on a ladder, lighting the oil lanterns that lined the footpath.

He watched Elaine, frozen, his match burning down to his fingers, he swore as the flickering orange kissed his fingers and as if broken from a trance he slid down to the ground and hurried off into the gloom, with more than a few wary looks thrown over his shoulder.

The match lay smouldering where the old man had dropped it, soon extinguished by the growing puddles that rippled in the light downpour.

Eight men sheltered in the building before her, a gang of highwaymen who had taken to using a rusted old armoured car to pillage outlying farms and trade caravans to the north.

Some wealthy aristocrat from the channel had evidently grown sick of their exploits and issued a bounty out of pocket.

Elaine had found their poster on some Tavern Wall in Belgium, the car and the number of men had scared away most other hired guns.

Yet the reward had piqued her interest, a pretty sum, far more than she would ever earn hunting down debtors, thieves and errant gamblers whose luck had run dry.

So she had tracked them, riding far to the south where the Alps loomed up beyond the long abandoned battlefields of the Western Front.

A farmhand had pointed her to this small outlying town, the group had only been seven when she had first picked up their trail but they had stopped a few miles up the road and taken on food, water, fuel and a hanger-on, the farmhand's 16 year old brother.

Elaine had made some promises of not hurting the would-be bandit in order to get the location she needed, but her intentions were her own and if he drew on her, she'd defend herself.

Upon seeing the boarded up state of the front door, Elaine decided to edge her way down an alley and try round back.

Her boots sloshed in muddy puddles as she sidled over heaped rubble.

She came to a sudden stop as she rounded the corner,she found a youth, remarkable in his resemblance to a certain farmhand she had conversed with earlier that day.

He sat on the wet ground, against an armoured car.

The machine, despite being swaddled in cloth, was unmistakable, it's colourful chassis ornamented in Dazzle Camouflage.

The lad was skinny, his dark hair draped about his shoulders as he buried his face in his knees.

A rifle lay propped against a wall far out of reach, an open door farther along spilled warm light into the alley, the alluring scent of a hot cooked meal came with it.

Mirth, laughing, joking and music.

They had left him outside to guard the car in the rain while they all sat in the warm drinking and eating, Elaine felt sorry for the boy, no doubt he had been lured away with promises of loot, food and drink only to be turned into a servant.

She went on quietly, her foot falls slow and deliberate until she had found herself between him and the rifle.

She had almost been content to leave him to sulk but decided it was better to send him on his way.

Elaine's boot nudged him in the ribs, the sodden lad sat up with a start only to find his mouth clamped over with a leather clad hand, staring down the barrel of a box cannon.

Elaine made a shushing motion, backing away to shoulder the rifle, all the while her pistol remained levelled on the wayward youth.

"How many?" She whispered as she yanked him to his feet.

The lad stared at the ground for a long while, "seven", his voice barely a whisper.

"Go home" Elaine retorted as loudly as she dared, shoving him down the muddy side street, “Be thankful I'm giving you this chance".

He shot her a look before slinking off down the alley and out of sight.

Elaine turned her attention back to the others in the building, she had caught them at an ideal time, out of their armoured motor carriage, drunk and likely less armed than usual.

She would have taken them on the road but she feared what that armoured beast's gun would do to her horse.

The doorway cast its amber light upon her willowy frame as she stepped through the threshold.

She took measured short steps, rounding each doorway with her handgun raised, a cloakroom that stank of mildew, a pair of abandoned offices overflowing with guns, a dusty counting room, all devoid of her prey.

At last she fell upon them in the old Vault, it's treasure long looted, now a trestle table had been erected in place, seven men sat around it enjoying wine and decadent food, the stench of cigarette smoke hanging heavy in the air.

They all turned with a start, despite their faces contorted in confusion, she knew their names, a rough likeness of each had been scrawled in charcoal on the poster Elaine had snatched down from that tavern wall.

Marcelle Dupont, the leader, rose first, scrambling for his revolver but Elaine was faster.

~-~

Across the street a throng had joined under the verandah of the old barber, the townsfolk had gathered in Elaine's wake, eager to see the outcome of this confrontation, others hung out of windows or lingered on balconies, nervous chatter rippling through the crowd.

Their voices rose to a clamour as the dark haired youth, who only hours before, had pilfered food, tobacco and alcohol from each of their homes and businesses at gunpoint, scampered from behind the building and off down the street, struggling to keep his suspenders up on his shoulders.

A hail of stones and insults in a dozen languages followed him long after he had disappeared into the distance.

It was then the shooting started, shouting came first from within the bank, then the loud clap of gunfire, pinpricks of light burst through the boarded windows as they were riddled with shot.

The townsfolk scattered, screaming as shards of wood and brick flew left and right, the rattle and roar of battle echoing down the street.

It seemed to go on for an eternity, only those brave enough to continue watching now lingered in the mouths of alleyways at a safer distance while everyone else took to basements and attics to cower.

Eventually the sound died away and tentatively the throng regathered around the Bank Doors.

Night had fallen proper by then, the inky blackness cast long shadows about them.

The crowd receded in fright when a blow hammered on the inside of the front doors, then came another and another before the tired old wood gave way.

The gentle clop of her boots on the brick stairs preceded her as she stepped from the cloud of smoke and into the rain, an oblong of light burst out onto the waiting crowd as she descended.

That elegant willowy young woman, who had come to town atop a grey horse in a fine white blouse and a straw hat tied with a blue ribbon, now stood before them smeared with dirt and blood.

She tucked away her pistol, limped down the steps and over to the old man from before.

"Have you still got those matches?" Elaine fumbled in her satchel.

"I need a smoke".

#writeblr #writing #writerscommunity #ww1 fiction #ww1 #post apocalyptic #edwardian #fiction

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thegoldenreport · 6 months

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DEAD MALL

You step into the expanse…bone dry and desolate. A quiet breeze rustles the hairs on your neck. Not much is here. Exactly how you remember it. Exactly what you were hoping to find. You peruse the husks, marveling at their barren insides. Oggling outside the store window.

One husk catches your eye. A clothing store by the name of Glam Fam, except it’s sign is missing about half the letters. You step inside, ignoring the pungent smell of dust and mildew. Light barely reaches the back. Scattered hangers on the floor amidst clusters of dead flies. Wrinkled skirts and ripped leather jackets. The most exquisite of mid 2000s fashion.

There’s a red fedora left on the top shelf by the register. Scarlet felt with a wine purple ribbon around the base. You dreamed of this hat. It’s the one your older sister always wore out with friends. Which somehow made it cooler. There’s no price tag. There’s no one to check you out at the register.

“On lunch. Be back soon!”

A note reads on the counter. Faded ink and coffee stains.

It’s too hot. You wonder when management will turn on the AC. It’s summer time after all. The heat creeps into everything. Only one store and you’re already tired. Where’s the food court? Maybe a bite to eat?

You pick a direction. Head across the expanse. It is wide and long. Everything is more or less the same for miles. Tech stations. Makeup shops. Smoothie stands. Hollowed out and washed in grey.

“Attention all shoppers! We hope you’re enjoying this FUN Friday! Stop by Kiosk #121_[undetermined value] for a free gift!”

A voice barks over the intercom. Crackled and lifeless.

You pass the place where kids can play. You played there once when you were really small. And you loved to climb on the life sized caterpillar statue. It’s big, friendly, yellow eyes are now white. The paint worn away by too many little hands. You wish you had the time today.

Your nose is hit with the overwhelming smell of baked pretzels and cheese sauce. A flickering store up by your left. There's a body. Dressed in stripes and a red apron. Slumped over the counter.

His stiffened finger barely moves to punch in your order. The only part of him left alive. The register dings and an oiled stained paper bag appears on the counter. You reach in to take a bite. The pretzel burns the roof of your mouth. The pretzel is burned black.

You sit on the ground surrounded by endless, monochrome tile. Enjoying your pretzel. Your growling stomach fulfilled. Your taste-buds smothered in salt. It would be nice to have something to wash it down.

It would be nice.

Can you hit one more store on the way out? Can you walk one more mile? Where’s the map they kept telling you about? Or maybe it would be best to just go straight home, lay in your bed and rest. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?

Do you remember how you got here?

Do you remember where you came from?

Do you remember what exit you should take?

It’s so unbearably hot…

#dead mall #the golden report #issue 62 #original #surreal #writing #unreality #weird #dark #liminal spaces

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mscreatives1 · 9 months

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Cloth Drying Roof Hanger In Hyderabad

MS Creatives, situated in Hyderabad and Secunderabad, India, is a prominent supplier and producer of high-quality ceiling cloth hangers. We provide cloth drying ceiling hangers in Hyderabad, India, and balcony ceiling cloth hangers with a 2-year guarantee and same-day free delivery and installation.

Shop No. 4, 1-622, Troop Bazaar, Koti, Hyderabad, Telangana 500001

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artuz-wardrobe · 1 year

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Suggestions to Manage Your Wardrobe by Artuz Best Floor to Ceiling Wardrobe Mechanism

The process of organizing and maintaining your clothes, shoes, and accessories in a way that makes it simple to find what you need and keeps them in good condition is known as wardrobe management. Here are some suggestions to help you effectively manage your wardrobe:

Get Rid of Unwanted Clothes: To begin, go through your closet and get rid of anything you haven't worn in a year. These clothes are unlikely to be worn again and are taking up valuable space. According to Artuz, the best floor to ceiling wardrobe mechanism manufacturers, you can recycle, donate, or resell these clothes to make room for clothes you actually wear.

Group Your Garments by Classification: Arrange your excess garments by classification, like tops, bottoms, dresses, and so forth. This will improve the space's visual appeal and make it easier to locate what you require. You can also organize them by color or by event, such as work or casual wear.

Manufacturers of sliding wardrobe design mechanism Bangalore and lacquered glass wardrobe shutters in Bangalore offer Artuz floor-to-ceiling wardrobe door mechanisms. To keep your clothes and shoes organized, make an investment in shoe racks, hangers, and garment bags. This won't just keep your garments sans wrinkle, however it will likewise make it more straightforward to find what you want, says Artuz, Fashioners of best sliding profiles for wardrobe in Bangalore.

Make a Plan for Maintenance: Make a maintenance plan that includes doing your clothes' laundry, ironing, dry cleaning, and sewing on a regular basis to keep them in good condition. To assist you in staying on track, set a reminder on your phone or calendar.

Plan your outfit ahead of time: Before you head to sleep, plan your outfit for the following day. According to Artuz, the best sliding profiles for wardrobe designers, this will help you save time in the morning and ensure that you are dressing appropriately for the occasion.

Use a capsule for clothing: A dress container is a little assortment of garments that you wear consistently. You won't have to constantly buy new clothes if you have a capsule wardrobe because you can mix and match different items to create different looks.

Put resources into Quality: Buy a few high-quality items that will last you a long time instead of a lot of cheap clothes that easily break. This will set aside you cash over the long haul and you'll have garments that look and warm hearted, says Artuz, Best floor-to-roof closet component fashioner.

Artuz Offers the 3 door sliding wardrobe mechanism Component, Sliding Profiles and best sliding wardrobe door mechanism Bangalore producers.

Make use of your vertical area: Installing hanging organizers or hooks allows you to make use of your vertical space rather than folding clothes on shelves. You will be able to see everything you have at a glance and save space by using this method.

Alternate your attire: To guarantee that you wear all your garments, make a pivot plan. This implies that you can wear your garments in cycles, so you're not continuously wearing exactly the same thing. This will assist you with taking advantage of your closet, and it will likewise make it seriously intriguing, says Artuz, floor to ceiling wardrobe door manufacturers.

Maintain a checklist: To ensure you're not failing to remember anything while you're preparing, make an agenda of things you really want to snatch on out. Your phone, wallet, keys, and other items may fall under this category.

All in all, closet the board is fundamental for keeping your garments in great shape and making it simple to find what you really want. According to Artuz, the designer of the Best sliding wardrobe door mechanism, if you follow these tips, you can effectively organize and maintain your wardrobe and make the most of your clothes and accessories.

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Email: [email protected]

#BestFloortoceilingwardrobemechanism #Slidingwardrobedesignmechanism #3doorslidingwardrobemechanism #Bestslidingwardrobedoormechanism

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unikhangers · 1 year

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ceilingclothdryinghanger · 2 years

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Buy Pulley Cloth Drying Hanger

If you want to shop from the latest collection of Pulley Cloth Drying Hanger, then visit our website. ceiling cloth drying hanger is professional manufacturers and supplier in Hyderabad. We provide in different lengths like 5ft, 6 ft, 7ft, 8ft, and universal width of 2feet at a reasonable price.

#Pulley Cloth Drying Hanger #roof hanger for clothes drying #Hanger for clothes drying

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madhutradersclothdryhangers · 2 years

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Innovation is known as the ability to foresee future and avail which are satisfactory, good-looking, useful and lasting. One of such innovation is Madhu Traders Ceiling Cloth Drying Hanger. It is Eco-friendly as the stainless steel pipes are of high standard that prevent oxidation and rusting also It is space saving as it comes in customized sizes to be fit areas with minimum floor space. These pipes can be managed individually up and down. Ceiling Cloth Dryers are made of stainless steel pipes, handle lockers, rope, and hangers. It is easy to operate since the heavy grade wheels ensure smooth ascension and dissension in any weather condition. Due to its compact design, it can be installed in various spaces like Passages, Bedrooms, Bathrooms, Balconies. WEBSITE : www.madhutraders.com CALL NOW : 9493694930

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julies-butterflies · 3 years

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Kiss prompt 25 with boggie (and maybe hinting toward Sickfic cause you know I love when these boys suffer 👀👀)?

50 types of kiss prompts // accepting!! ( for jukebox, willex, reggielukejulie, boggie )

25. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.

( read on ao3 here! )

It says a lot about the current state of his life (and friend group) that when Bobby wakes in the dark to the soft echo of someone rummaging around in the loft, his first thought is not “someone broke in”, but “which one is it?”

Slowly, he pushes himself upright. While he doesn’t remember dozing off in the garage, the evidence is all around him. His back is stiff from dozing on the couch in an awkward position; his calculus textbook is still wide open on the table, the equations he only half-finished sitting next to it. Here’s Bobby’s first clue --- someone picked up his pencil, and made a few hasty, scribbled corrections in the margins, solving one of the problems he wasn’t able to get.

He’s also sure the blanket covering him now was folded on the other end of the couch before he passed out... and, leading from the doorway, a glistening trail of footsteps have tracked their way across the garage floor, leaving puddles along the way.

He sighs between his teeth, forcing himself to his feet. The trail leads across the floor, straight to the loft ladder. From the still-audible sounds coming from above --- not drowned out by the rain outside, which batters the windows and drums on the roof like the roar of a mosh pit --- the intruder hasn’t noticed he’s been noticed. Bobby takes care to keep quiet, ascending the ladder slowly. When he pokes his head through the floor, he has to squint to discern shadows through the dim light.

Sure enough --- there’s a dark figure burrowing around amid piles of junk. He’s wrestling with an old quilt buried at the bottom of one of the trunks, and losing. Even from a distance, Bobby can see the dark hair slicked against his temples, the water streaming from his sodden flannel to drench the wooden boards beneath him. He trembles in his damp clothes, shaky movements fueled by restless energy. No doubt, he didn’t realize how much noise he was making.

Bobby leans forward on his elbows, and rests his face against one palm. “For a second, I thought we had racoons. But racoons don’t usually stop to help with homework.”

The rustling stops cold. It’s a minute before Reggie turns; when he meets Bobby’s gaze, he looks like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“I, uhh ---” He huffs, then shrugs, sending off a hail of raindrops. “Figured since I was already breaking and entering, may as well pay you back somehow.”

“You know you don’t have to, Reggie.” Bobby folds his arms, balancing his chin on top of them both; his foot scuffs idly at the nearest ladder rung. This is far from the first time one of the guys has shown up at Bobby’s garage unannounced; since he never leaves the door locked anymore, it can hardly be called breaking and entering. There’s a makeshift bed up in the loft, and spare clothes in a duffel bag downstairs. They’re always welcome when they need it.

“Yeah...” The word comes out hoarse; Reggie has to clear his throat, ducking his face back into the shadows. “I know.”

A part of Bobby wants to ask --- but there’s no point, when he already knows the answer. When it’s Luke, it’s his mother; when it’s Alex, it’s his atmosphere; when it’s Reggie, the world is just too loud. I like how quiet it is here, he admitted once. It feels like a home. (A home, not his home — there’s a big difference.)

So, instead of asking, he just shakes his head. “You could’ve called me. Or Alex. We’d have come to pick you up, instead of —”

“Alex hates driving on a good day. You want him to go out at night? In the middle of a rainstorm? All the way down to the beach, just to pick me up?”

There’s an edge of real frustration in his voice; and it’s Reggie, so that’s worrying, but Bobby’s own temper can’t help responding in kind. “Well, it’s better than you on your bike, freezing to death! Reg, you’re almost blue.”

For some reason, Reggie chuckles at that, ducking his head again. His sense of humor is as crooked as a wire hanger. Bobby’s learned not to question it, or try to follow the strange routes his mind goes down. With Reggie, it’s enough to just be along for the ride.

No matter how he got here, Bobby reminds himself, the important thing is, Reggie's here. He made it here, where he knows he’s always welcome… and there’ll be time to tear into him for his dumbass choices another day. Tonight, only three things are important: Reggie’s here, Reggie’s safe, and Reggie needs to get dry.

“You’re not sleeping in the loft,” Bobby declares, glancing around the dimly lit ceiling room. Aside from the cobwebs, it’s drafty and leaky up here; Reggie will catch a chill in a second, if he somehow hasn’t already. When Reggie opens his mouth to protest, Bobby just shakes his head, nodding downstairs. “The couch is more comfortable. Grab a blanket, okay? And go through what we’ve got — you gotta change out of those wet clothes.”

For just a second, a smile flickers over Reggie’s face — there one minute, gone the next. He doesn’t say anything, only nods… but Bobby reads his relief clear as day, and his gratitude.

It’s enough.

(No, it’s not — but he can’t change his friends’ shitty lives, he can’t protect them from the world, so it has to be enough.)

Bobby slips back downstairs, and busies himself making the couch comfortable. It pulls out easily into a bed; there are pillows tucked behind it for rainy days just like this one. He folds the blanket that had been tossed over him, and clears some of his papers off the table, just to chase away the clutter. By the time the loft ladder creaks, a few minutes later, the couch is as cozy as it will ever get.

Bobby turns, and almost sighs in relief at the sight of Reggie — in dry clothes, a grey t-shirt and dark sweatpants that hug his bony hips. Bobby never likes to think about how thin Reggie is… but when it’s presented to him like this, so intimately, there’s no way to ignore it. (Home cooked meals, he suspects, are as rare in the Peters household as a trip to Disneyworld; no wonder Reggie inhales any food they put in front of him.) He still looks pale, skin paper white and washed out in the gloom. Though he’s run fingers through his hair, it’s still wild, flyaway hairs clinging to his brow. He hasn’t completely stopped shivering, either, but at least he’s settled down.

“Here,” Bobby says, nodding to the couch. He can’t help cursing himself; clearly, his bedside manner deserves awards.

Reggie isn’t bothered. He just steps forward, that ghost of a smile back on his lips. “Thanks,” he murmurs, and says nothing more. When Bobby steps aside for him, he settles on the couch, tucking the blanket around him. Immediately, like a leaf tossed into a windstorm, he starts shivering again. Bobby grimaces.

“So, when you catch pneumonia, is the plan to just ride it out, or…?”

Reggie glances up at him. His expression steals the words from Bobby’s mouth. There are dark circles under his eyes, standing out all the more in his pale face; his lower lip is bitten raw, flushed and sore, and hands fiddle restlessly in his lap.

“Bobby,” he mutters, and something in his voice is… desolate. So absolutely freaking tired... drained and defeated... so wrong for a person like Reggie, who is made of enthusiasm. He’s the bubble of soda in a glass, the dancing blaze of a sparkler, the crackle of a firework, the lilt of a bass line. Reggie is alive in living color… and tonight, the rain has washed it all away.

Something in Bobby’s stomach twists. His heart rattles against the cage of his ribs. Impulse spikes within him, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he has already settled onto the couch at Reggie’s side, and opened his arms wide.

“Okay. Bring it in.”

Reggie’s eyes widen. Touching isn’t Bobby’s thing. It’s Luke’s, sure, and even Alex’s. They’re both all about that casual affection, with too much love to be contained. Bobby shows his affection in quieter ways — a steadying hand, a late night drive, paying for take-out when he knows his friends’ pockets are light. He’s never been sure how to handle all the touching which comes with the package, with the Sunset Curve boys; he’s never known how to start.

Tonight, though, Reggie’s here, and he needs it. So, just for tonight, Bobby is officially a hugger.

“Come on,” Bobby encourages; and that’s all the prodding Reggie needs to gently tuck himself against his friend’s chest.

He doesn’t expect how well Reggie fits there, like a puzzle piece naturally slotting into place. He knocks the breath from his lungs without trying; even as long arms come to wrap around his chest, and a damp head ticks against his collarbone, it takes Bobby a minute to adjust. Yes, he asked for this — he reminds himself of that, as his own arms come up to wrap Reggie in an embrace — but Reggie’s so much better at it, and he’s not sure where to go from here.

“Bobby,” Reggie mutters into his chest. “You have to relax a little, otherwise how’m I supposed to?” He tilts his head up. “I’m the half-frozen one here, but you’re like hugging a scarecrow.”

Bobby snorts. Reggie looks up a little more. His eyes shine dark in the dim studio light as his brows furrow. “Do you not want me to —“

Bobby hushes him with a shake of his head, and pulls Reggie closer, tucking the blanket around them both. Slowly, he leans back against the couch. It seems like the thing to do to relax — and Reggie agrees, if the soft noise of contentment he makes is any clue. He’s still shivering a bit against Bobby’s chest; his voice carries an ominous rasp, and whenever he breathes out, it sounds unsteady. Bobby brushes against his bare arm, and is immediately struck by how cold Reggie still is; even holding him like this, the chill begins to seep into his own skin.

Bobby will soak up every ounce of it, if it means Reggie can be comfortable again.

So, he pulls Reggie close, rubbing a hand up and down his back in broad, earnest circles. He breathes out against the crown of Reggie’s head, hot and repetitive; a few times, he even rocks him, just to get the blood flowing back through his limbs. Reggie doesn’t protest. He barely even moves. It takes a while for their legs to tangle together under the blankets. His arms tuck under Bobby’s; his ear comes to rest over his heart. Slowly, his entire body curves into Bobby’s own, ravenous for any ounce of heat a warmer form can provide.

Even as he does this, he seems to melt, and Bobby knows — just knows — this is the first chance he’s had to really relax in days.

“Exhale, Reg,” he murmurs without meaning to. When Reggie stirs against him, meeting his gaze with furrowed brows, Bobby is suddenly relieved he’s never been able to blush. (Compared to Reggie, who could gauge the weather by the color in his cheeks.)

Still locked into his gaze, Reggie breathes out, in one long gust. It chills Bobby’s jaw.

“You’re so cold,” he mutters.

“Not anymore,” answers Reggie. “Not with you.”

He’s left a damp patch against the front of Bobby’s shirt, and his hair’s still wet. As Bobby watches, a droplet trails its way down his temple, stopping just as it reaches his ear. Before Bobby can think twice, he brushes it away with one gentle hand… and allows his fingers to linger over Reggie’s jaw a second too long before pulling away.

Reggie isn’t staring into Bobby’s eyes anymore. He’s hypnotized by his lips.

And well, Bobby reasons, there’s no better way to warm him up.

That's his justification for not feeling like a horrible person, when he leans in and captures Reggie’s lips with his own.

There’s nothing forceful about it, nothing demanding; the last thing Bobby wants is to take, only to give what little warmth he can. Yet as Reggie stays frozen against him for a moment too long, an icicle of dread pierces Bobby’s chest. He’s just begun to pull away, an apology already on the tip of his tongue, when Reggie suddenly catches him by the back of the neck with one icy hand, pulling him back down.

Bobby’s breath catches; Reggie catches him. For a minute, it’s all either of them can do to be near each other, moving with and against each others’ mouths in slow, earnest rhythm.

Heat? Oh, no — heat isn’t a problem anymore.

When they finally pull back, Reggie’s lips are flushed, his cheeks bright red — there it is, Bobby thinks, with a flash of victory. His breath is heavy against Bobby’s chest, but there’s a smile on his lips all the same.

“I mean,” he says, and pauses for a breathless chuckle, “yeah, sure, that works too.”

Just as Bobby begins to smile, Reggie suddenly jerks forward. His laugh turns into a gasp — and then he’s coughing hard against Bobby’s collar, entire body heaving with it. It’s all Bobby can do to steady him, keeping one hand on his shoulders as he struggles to catch his breath, until the worst of it has passed.

“Damn it,” he mutters, once Reggie has gone limp again. “You’re totally gonna get me sick.”

“I’ll try not to,” Reggie offers generously against his collarbone.

“No, you won’t,” Bobby replies, knowing it’s probably too late already — and also, that he doesn’t really care, so long as he can keep Reggie warm and dry through the night.

When Reggie lifts his head to smile at him, Bobby brushes the rain out of his hair, and grins right back.

#chickwiththepurpleguitar #tbh... thiiiiiis kind of got away from me #boggie #reggie peters #jatp #julie and the phantoms #my fics

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