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esmealux · 3 years

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The Devil Doesn’t Do Children

Part: 2 / ?

Setting: About a year after 5a

Word count: 3.5K

Rating: T

Summary: ‘I certainly did not choose to impregnate the Detective, Doctor!’ In which Lucifer doesn’t know how to cope and goes to see the one person who might be able to help him.

Warnings: Mention of death, murder (and, quite indirectly, foeticide)

When Chloe parks the car a little outside the film set, Lucifer has finally got his thoughts and the threatening sensation in his chest under control. He had stared silently out of the window the entire ride, calculating, weighing the different possibilities; which one was more likely—him impregnating her after being sterile since the dawn of time, or her getting food poisoning from a hole in the wall filthier than medieval England? The latter. Definitely the latter. It is the only logical—nay, possible explanation. He has no doubt.

But then she asks him to get her a gum from her glove box (she still has a bad taste in her mouth), and when he looks inside the small space to find the pack she always keeps there, something catches his eye, something pink and flat, something he usually associates with mood swings and five days of limited access—something that reminds him she’s more than a week late.

He grabs the gum between his fingers and hands it to her, smacking the glove box shut as if it will erase what he just saw and the distressing epiphany it led to. He searches for alternate explanations in his panicking mind, something, anything, that will ease his returned and now stronger fear that she’s… That they’re… But he comes up with nothing. Just obscure theories that even he will admit are far-fetched.

He doesn’t say anything—not because he knows she doesn’t want to have the conversation on their way to talk to a potential suspect, but because he can’t. So he just follows after her like a lost puppy, until they’re suddenly sitting in a cramped trailer, facing former child-star, current man-child Max Steinfeld.

‘Why did you walk away when we asked you about Laura?’ Chloe asks the actor. He had fled? Lucifer hadn’t noticed. Then again, he’s not entirely sure he would have remembered if they’d been in a car chase, or a gunfire.

The sad example of a man slides a tabloid towards them in response to the Detective’s question. The front page shows a picture (undoubtedly shot by a paparazzo) of him and Riley walking down the street hand in hand, smiles plastered on their polished Hollywood faces. Next to the headline promising insight in ‘all the details about the magical wedding,’ there’s a close-up of an offensively distasteful diamond ring.

Lucifer sees a chance at escaping the cacophony of disturbing thoughts in his head and takes it. ‘What, because you’re marrying Miss Riley and didn’t want a murder case spoiling your-’ he takes the magazine and swiftly flips through the pages till he finds the right one, ‘uber-romantic seaside wedding? Is that it?’ Lucifer leans a little forward and stares intensely into the man’s eyes, his best cheshire grin playing on his lips. ‘Come now, Maximillian, what is it you truly desire?’

‘I…,’ he begins, not blinking as he’s sucked into Lucifer’s stare, ‘I want to stop pretending.’

‘Pretending that you didn’t kill an innocent woman because you put a bun in her oven?’

Steinfeld’s brows draw together in confusion before they arch up in worry and disbelief. ‘Laura’s… dead?’

Lucifer’s just about to call him out on his charades, when the Detective jumps in and confirms that she was found in her home, stabbed to death.

Max’ face turns white. His jaw goes slack. Then a cry of raw agony fills the confined space.

Once Steinfeld has calmed down enough to continue the conversation, Chloe decides to go easy on him and begins by asking him where he was between 9 and 10 PM last night.

‘With Moni,’ he says, looking almost ashamed. ‘I had a date with Laura—we were gonna see each other for the first time in weeks—but she didn’t turn up. I figured she was still mad.’

‘Mad?’ Chloe prompts him to elaborate.

‘Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly handle the whole pregnancy-thing very well. I couldn’t- I just- I panicked.’

‘So you killed her,’ her partner concludes beside her. She gives him a stern look and a reprimanding ‘Lucifer.’ He ignores her.

‘No! I would never hurt her! I love her,’ Steinfeld tells them, all kinds of emotions swimming in his eyes. ‘But when she told me, I just couldn’t… deal with it, so I ignored her, for five weeks. One thing was trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m-’—he gulps and takes a deep breath—‘was gonna be a dad, but I also had no idea how I was gonna tell them.’

Chloe is just about to ask who he means by ‘them’ when Lucifer opens his mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, my mistake. I’ll refer to them as Mx Riley from now on.’ He sounds genuinely apologetical. Chloe side-eyes him, confused.

‘What? No,’—Steinfeld shakes his head—‘Moni goes by “she”. I meant the studio. They made us sign a contract at the beginning of production in which we agreed to pretend to be a couple in public to-’

‘Build hype around the movie, sell more tickets and boost your personal career?’ Chloe finishes. She’s familiar with the concept.

‘Yeah, something like that,’ Steinfeld mutters and rubs his brow, his hand still visibly shaking from the shock. ‘But I was growing tired of it. I like Moni, she’s one of my best friends, but nothing more than that, and what I had with Laura was so… real. It was all pretty new, but she made me happy. I wanted her in my life—to share my life with her. Still, I was nowhere near ready to have a baby with her, to become a dad! I mean, I still have a bad reputation in the business, I’ve spent all my savings on drugs and alcohol and a mansion I can’t afford, and sometimes I get so stressed I don’t eat for days. How am I supposed to take care of a kid?’ His voice is laced with frustration and tears stream down his stubbled cheeks. She expects Lucifer to scoff at the ‘dramatics’, or at least show some kind of disapproval of the emotional display, but he doesn’t.

‘Look, I get it,’ Chloe says, laying her arms on the table. ‘When I was pregnant, me and my ex-husband were absolutely terrified too.’

She senses Lucifer looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She’s not sure why, or what it means, so she ignores him and continues.

‘Is that why you did it? Did you go to her place when she didn’t show up for your date and then when she brought up the baby you lost your temper? You got scared?’ She wills her voice to be calm, knowing the man is vulnerable.

Max frantically shakes his head. ‘No! No, more the opposite! I was gonna tell her that I loved her and that I was gonna try. That’s why I went to Simone’s when she didn’t show up. Moni knew about Laura, what she meant to me, so I went to her to talk about how we could escape this fucked-up PR stunt controlling our lives,’ he points angrily to the smiling picture of him and Riley on the cover of the tabloid, still on the table. When he continues, his voice is calmer, but also more emotional, ‘so we could be free, and I could do right by Laura… and our baby.’

Chloe turns to look at Lucifer—to see if he, too, believes Steinfeld is innocent—only to discover that her partner is glowering at the now frightened man across from them. Lucifer is breathing heavily, his fist clenched between them, his knuckles white. His voice is sharp and venomous when he speaks, almost hisses, ‘How exactly were you gonna do right by them? How could you just accept that you were gonna be a… a father, even when you knew, in every cell of your damned body, that you couldn’t?’

He’s standing now, his tall frame shaking, heat rolling off him. She reaches for his hand to calm him down (Steinfeld has faced enough trauma today as it is), but he quickly draws it back, as if he’s burnt by her touch. His eyes remain brown and his face smooth and tan, anthropomorphic—still, a lump settles in her throat. Before she can say anything, he speaks again, his voice lower now, only a few octaves from demonic and flaming with something she can only describe as wrath. Wrath and pain. ‘How could you ever pretend to love something you never wanted?’

He storms out of the trailer, surprisingly elegantly considering his emotional state. She excuses herself to Steinfeld and rushes out to talk to her partner, comfort him, ask him what the Hell is going on.

But he’s gone.

Vanished.

Sighing, she bends down to pick up a large, silky feather from the ground.

The door bursts open, the hinges shrieking in protest as it slams against the wall and knocks down a picture frame in the process. Linda takes a deep breath and slowly turns around to face her intruder. ‘Lucifer, what have I told you about barging-’

The words get stuck in her throat when she sees him. His hair is dishevelled, his clothes wrinkled and disarranged. A dash of colour is missing where a pocket square usually sits and completes his outfit—whether he lost it without noticing or he didn’t pick one out in the first place, she can’t tell, but either way, it’s concerning. Even more so when combined with his face. Oh God, his face. He looks pale, too pale—ghostlike. His pupils are mere specks, his eyes manic. His chest heaves rapidly as he takes in short, ragged breaths.

Last time she saw Lucifer in a state similarly chaotic, dark, leathery wings were sticking out of his back. Before she can ask him what’s wrong, his tremulous voice fills her office.

‘The Detective’s pregnant.’

Not what she’d expected, but his reaction seems about right.

She goes to his side to help him sit down on the couch, pours him a glass of water, and doesn’t sit down till she’s made sure he’s drunk some. Once in her chair, she takes a deep breath, partly to prepare herself for the incoming conversation and partly to make Lucifer mirror her so they can get some oxygen to his head. She’s not sure if angels can pass out, but she’s not gonna take the risk.

‘Okay,’ she says calmly, ‘and how do you feel about it?’ The question sounds kind of absurd as he’s sitting there, practically radiating distress. Nevertheless, he needs to put his feelings into words.

‘How do you think I feel about it, Doctor?’ he growls.

She doesn’t answer that. Instead, she looks at him with a slight smile and raised eyebrows, inviting him to tell her.

‘I feel betrayed, for one,’ he spits, feeding her plant with the sparkling water she’s provided him—before emptying his flask into the glass and taking a large gulp.

‘By whom?’ she asks.

He glares at her and takes another sip. ‘My father, obviously.’

Linda suppresses a sigh of frustration. She’d thought God coming to Earth and their subsequent bonding time had finally made Lucifer bury his manipulative daddy issues. Guess she was wrong. ‘What do you think your father has to do with Chloe getting pregnant?’ She doesn’t miss how he winces at the last three words before his face sets into taut lines.

‘Oh, I don’t know, Doctor.’ His voice is thick with sarcasm. ‘I mean, it’s not like he has ever sent down one of his pathetic thralls to “bless” a barren couple with a spawn.’

‘How are you so sure you’re infertile?’ she asks him with narrowed eyes, leaning back in her chair. They’d thought Amenadiel was infertile, but she has 31 pounds of pure joy at home to disprove that.

‘Well, it’s simple maths,’ he replies. She gives him a curious and mildly sceptical look, and he leans forward, putting his now half-empty glass down on the table. ‘Right, I’ve been practicing safe sex since the first ever condom came about—you know, for the sake of my lovers’ health—but condoms are only 98% effective at preventing conception, and the ancient prototypes were much worse, which means that, had I not been sterile, I would have fathered one hundred thousand children, give or take, throughout history, and I haven’t. I would have noticed; they would have flocked around me like little rats to get a piece of my fortune every time I appeared on Earth. Ergo, infertile.” He gestures towards his crotch with a dead-serious expression.

‘Right,’ she says, forcing herself to look at his face. ‘And what makes you think that that trait, or whatever you wanna call it-’

‘I call it a blessing,’ he interrupts her, the slightest glint in his eye as he peers at her from over the brim of the drinking glass.

‘What makes you think it’s everlasting?’ she asks him, a theory suddenly forming in her mind.

He furrows his brow. ‘Beg your pardon?’

‘Well, you’re not completely immortal anymore,’ she reminds him, her eyes shifting to his thigh where his first (not self-induced) scar is covered by his creased suit pants. He sends her a hurt look. ‘What a positively shitty way of trying to cheer me up,’ he huffs before downing the remaining liquor.

‘What I mean is,’ she begins to clarify, ‘what if your infertility is like your immortality?’ She lets the words sink in before she continues, ‘What if your aversion to having children, to becoming a dad, has affected your ability to physically father a child? But just like you chose to be vulnerable around Chloe, you’re now choosing to have a baby with her, to grow your family.’

He scoffs, almost laughs, but there’s no trace of humour in it. Only torment. ‘I certainly did not choose to impregnate the Detective, Doctor!’

‘Maybe not on a conscious level,’ she argues. ‘But maybe after the personal development you’ve been through, after seeing you’re worthy of being loved, not just by Chloe but also by Trixie, you’re finally realising, somewhere deep inside, that you’re also worthy of being someone’s dad.’

‘That is…’ he whispers, gazing out into empty air with a thoughtful expression, only to ultimately conclude, ‘absolutely preposterous!’ He sends her a dirty look, as if he’s accusing her of humbug. ‘I don’t want to be someone’s dad, Doctor—I don’t want a baby! The Devil doesn’t do children. I despise them. Always have. You know that.’

‘That doesn’t mean you always will. I mean, do you despise Charlie?’ She waits a couple of beats, watching him intently. ‘Do you despise Trixie?’ She nods in the direction of his chest, knowing his phone is in his breast pocket, nestled against his heart, the screen lighting up with a picture of himself and his two favourite girls every time he gets a notification.

‘Your son appreciates my devil face,’ he defends, ‘and the Detective and her offspring are a package deal.’ Linda knows he tries to appear indifferent, but he can’t hide the fondness suddenly twinkling in his eyes. If Linda wasn’t sure before, she’s now absolutely positive that Lucifer loves Trixie nearly as much as he loves her mother. She sees it all the time; it’s in the way his eyes flash red with hellfire when Trixie is hurt or sad; it’s in the way his chest puffs out with pride whenever he talks about her; it’s in his jealous stare when she and Dan laugh at an inside joke; it’s in his jubilant eyes when he’s the one who makes her laugh; it’s in the immense effort he constantly makes to always be there for her, to never disappoint her.

‘You might call them a package deal, Lucifer,’ she says softly, making him look at her, ‘but they call you family.’

He’s snatched the empty glass from the table and is now nursing it in his hand, unintentionally mimicking his nephew with his security blanket. His eyes are downcast, but she can tell his heart swells at the mention of the F-word. He’d dropped by her place about a month ago, shock all over his face. ‘The urchin referred to me as her family,’ he’d said. Linda had smiled and replied with a simple ‘Of course she did’. As narcissistic and self-indulgent as he is, he is surprisingly oblivious to other people’s affection for him. Then again, what else could you expect from a person who was abandoned by his parents, literally pushed into the abyss, and for eons deprived of any kind of love?

With Lucifer’s background in mind, Linda steers the conversation back to his feelings about Chloe being pregnant. ‘If you’re being completely honest with yourself, Lucifer,’—she stares at him until he lifts his head and looks her in the eyes—‘what do you think is the main reason you’re having this reaction to Chloe being pregnant? Is it because you don’t want children?’ She lets him think for a couple of seconds before adding, ‘Or is it because you’re afraid you’ll let your child down like your dad let you down?’

Sadness flashes across his still ashen face before the muscle in his jaw flexes and hot fury fills up his eyes. ‘My father didn’t let me down,’ he snarls, putting the glass down with an alarming clank, ‘He banished me from my home and sent me to Hell—after my mother wouldn’t let him kill me! No words cover that immense extent of neglect, Doctor. That cosmic measure of betrayal!’ His voice is shrill and rough as he shouts the last word, accompanied by the jarring sound of the drinking glass shattering to a million pieces as it collides with the wall behind her.

Lucifer takes a few heavy breaths and, once he’s gotten his anger somewhat under control, pointlessly adjusts his jacket and straightens his spine. ‘No one should have to endure even a fraction of that,’ he tells her, appearing strangely remorseful. ‘Especially not an innocent child.’

And there it is.

‘You are not your dad, Lucifer,’ she reminds him. ‘Or your mom. You’re not gonna abandon your child. You’re not gonna hurt them.’ She waits till he looks up at her (his brown eyes are so sad it makes her chest ache) before she says, ‘You’re gonna love them with every piece of your heart and go to the ends of the earth, or Hell, to protect them, because that is who you are. Maybe you weren’t that person when you cut your wings off on the beach eleven years ago, and maybe not even when you first started assisting the LAPD. But that’s who you are now. Just ask Chloe and Trixie.’ She would add all the other people around him who know this to be true, who know him, but there are only two people whose opinions matter to him in this case.

He doesn’t answer. His lips part, a smidgen of hope and belief appearing in the sea of fear in his eyes.

‘You referred to it as a “blessing” before, the fact that you couldn’t have children.’ He grimaces at the past tense. ‘Based on that, I assume you think having a child would be a curse?’

He raises an eyebrow, questioning her intelligence.

‘Right. But why do you think that is? I mean, if you think about it, is it really so bad that you and Chloe are having a baby? Someone who’s a beautiful mix of the two you, created out of your love for each other?’

He stops tending an invisible spot on her couch to look up at her. Colour has returned to his face, and the anger from before is gone; only a crease of worry remains. He looks tentative, but not scared to his core like earlier, his gaze warm and soft.

‘I…’ he says, musing. After a few seconds of silence, he answers, ‘To be frank, Doctor, I don’t know.’ His lips settle into a crooked line, stuck between a smile and a frown.

Linda lifts a friendly brow, her own lips tugging up at the corners. ‘Can’t know till you try, right?’

‘Right,’ he admits. It’s still not exactly a smile she sees on his face, but it’s close enough.

‘Have you talked to Chloe about all this?’ she asks him.

‘I haven’t, no. Do you think I should?’

Linda blinks, a little dumbfounded he’s even considering it an option not to talk about his fears with the woman who’s carrying his baby.

‘I’m joking,’ he says then, the smallest of smirks playing on his lips. ‘Of course I’m gonna talk to her! I just thought it best to, you know, sort out my own thoughts on the matter first.’

‘Oh,’ she mutters, realising she might not give him enough credit. He really has come a long way since their first session. ‘That’s very mature of you, Lucifer,’ she praises him.

The minuscule smirk from before spreads out into his cheshire grin. ‘What can I say? All good people know everything below an M-rating is boring and worthless.’

He smooths his pants over his thighs and checks his cuffs before standing and walking to the door. Just before he leaves, he turns to her with newfound courage in his eyes and says, ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a detective I need to have a chat with.’

Part I | Part III | Part IV (coming soon)

#deckerstar fanfiction #writing #The Devil Doesn't Do Children #lucifer x chloe #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #dr linda martin #lucifer goes to therapy #hurt comfort #pregnancy #murder case #trixie espinoza #post 5a #established #angst #deckerstar #lucifer on netflix #lucifer fanfiction

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madamewriterofwrongs · 4 years

Note

62 of the sensory prompts!

I hope you enjoy <3

Sensory Prompts

62. Fingertips smudged in blue ink

Bear my Signature

2008

His hands were steady as he bent over the recruitment table, sure in the path he was setting himself on. This was his decision, not his father’s. Shannon was proud of him; his parents were proud of him – he was proud of himself. Nothing could make him change his mind.

Then why did he hesitate over the final signature?

One last scrawl of his name and he would be a new Sixty-eight Whiskey recruit with the United States Armed Forces, with a career and a future serving his country and doing something of use – for once.

He couldn’t keep working for his father, long hours of travel, barked orders, and n real choice. Working with his hands was one thing, but this would be so much more.

He was going to make something of himself.

All he had to do was sign on the bottom line and his life would change forever. He thought of Shannon. They hadn’t been together long enough to know what time and distance would do to them, but he loved her; and she loved him. That would be enough.

He could do this.

He would do this.

He had to do this.

Eddie’s hands shook as his pen danced over his last key to freedom.

2010

He had been staring at the page for hours. It was a good program – it should be for the amount of money his parents were paying (he could hear his mother’s voice echoing in his ears). He wanted to be here. Sure, he wasn’t overly enthusiastic about his field of study but it would open up a lot of doors if he could be at least a B student.

He wouldn’t have to live at home any more, that was a definite plus. There was a great love he had for his parents when he didn’t have to see them every day.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Or forgetful.

Either way, this college would be the perfect opportunity to go out on his own and make something of himself. So what, if it was only a few hours away from home and his parents were paying for everything? He was still an independent person of independent means; he would finally have something to contribute. He’d be doing something of use – for once.

So what, if he hated the program? So what, if he was still staring at that map of the known world he got on his seventh grade trip to the museum?

This would be how he would make his mark on the world; it was his only option.

Buck placed his signature on the final page and handed the pile of forms back to the registration office.

2010

Eddie had never felt so panicked in his entire life (apart from the time two months ago when he’d called his girlfriend in the middle of the night and asked her to marry him when he was in town on leave). That had been a different kind of panic.

The panic brought on from calling his parents the day before and telling them that Shannon was pregnant and he had no idea what to do. After a lot of cursing and a lot of lecturing, they told him that there was only one option available to him: marry the girl.

They never liked Shannon. They tolerated her – were polite to her whenever Eddie brought her around – but the sneer in his mother’s voice when she told him what an idiotic mistake he’d made, reminded him that this would be the only way his parents approved of him marrying his high school sweetheart.

He’d always thought he’d get around to marrying her eventually. Sure, they’d only dated for a few months in her last year of high school but that still counted as a teenage romance where he was from. It was romantic right?

And then she’d told him she was pregnant, and then he’d panicked and begged her to marry him.

And now they were walking down the aisle in front of their friends and family (who were available to fly out at a moment’s notice), saying their vows like they actually meant them.

To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.

Eddie smudged the ink of his signature as he marked the marriage certificate, a reminder of the familiar yet uncharted path his life was currently on.

2011

Eddie never believed in love at first sight, but holding that little boy in his arms changed everything. Christopher Ramon Diaz, born 4lbs, 9oz. The doctors assured them that he was a little small but perfectly healthy and safe. That was all he needed to hear.

He hadn’t stopped smiling since they brought Shannon and Christopher to their room so mom and the baby could rest.

Mom.

Shannon was a mother now. The mother of his child.

He was a father. How the hell was he going to be a dad when his own had kept him at a distance his entire life? Not that he blamed him – he was providing for his family – that’s what you do. That’s why he was serving out the rest of his tour and coming straight home to look for a job.

He hated that he wouldn’t get to spend more than a week with his wife (the mother of his child) and newborn son, but that was the deal he made:

Put food on the table, keep a roof over their heads, and you will be a family forever.

At least he was around long enough to sign his name on the dotted line, declaring this little boy his for anyone to see. Christopher looked so much like his mother, he prayed he wouldn’t stay away long enough to become a stranger in his eyes. He wanted every moment he could get.

Eddie was going to be a good father; he would fight for them, and when he came back, he would work a million jobs so he could keep their deal. So long as the two of them were happy, nothing else mattered.

2014

Buck was floating, restless, in a sea of uncertainty. To be specific, he was floating in Moloaʻa Bay, just north of Kauaʻi, watching a group of men performing professional grade dives further out. They worked in sync but came up splashing and laughing, hearty laughs of grown men (not boys who had no idea what they were doing with their lives).

He’d spoken to them the night before when they stumbled into the bar he’d found himself sitting at most nights, striking up a conversation about how they all ended up on this island paradise.

He vaguely remembered coming up with some story about following a girl here only to have her ditch him for another man. It sounded better than telling them, he’d shown up at the airport in Seattle and asked for the cheapest, earliest flight and somehow ended up here.

Their story had been much more interesting anyways. Naval SEALS, honorable and strong. They were attending a conference by day (who got to go to a conference in Kauaʻi?) but the nights were all for them.

Buck blushed, remembering how bright the youngest one, Jacob, had smiled at him over their fifth shot of rum – or was it their eighth? Either way, they’d woken up tangled in each other’s arms somewhere around 6am, when Jake kicked him out so he could get ready for his meeting.

Now, he watched them all, wondering what it must be like to have that kind of comradery, that kind of purpose – that kind of freedom.

That night at the bar, Buck found Jake again and followed him back to his hotel room so he could register for their mailing list of interested applicants (he didn’t ask to stay).

The next time he was in Coronado, he’d have a new career opportunity and – hopefully – a new life.

2015

Eddie hated his signature. On a good day, it was a series of loops strung together with an E and D sloppily thrown in.

On a bad day, it was the end of a long series of papers that meant he was being discharged from the army with honors. For being brave, he wouldn’t have to fight anymore.

He didn’t feel brave. He certainly didn’t feel like he was done fighting.

And yet here he was, standing in front of a General he’d never met, having to hide the tremor in his hand as he struggled to sign off on his emancipation from the only real thing he’d ever known.

He had a wife and a son back home who didn’t know him any more – it wasn’t a stretch to say he no longer knew himself. But they needed him. They needed his money and his leadership and he didn’t have much of either. He had no way of knowing what he was coming home to (and didn’t that just sting?). Having no idea what was going on with his own family because he was gone for too long. What good was he to them now that he was back, though? He still had months of recovery ahead of him, and a few scars that opened up into a chasm of nightmares every night. All he wanted to do was take a deep breath a scream.

But he couldn’t do that.

He could salute with his good hand, and thank the man for the box that said he was a hero, and go back to his family.

And keep trying to hold it together.

2016

So being a SEAL hadn’t been the dream he imagined it to be. He still gained some valuable skills when it came to search and rescue, and combat. He also learned about the type of job he didn’t want to have.

He wanted the life they had on the brochure:

Help save lives.

Do some good.

Be a daredevil.

So they hadn’t said those exact words but that was the implication. It was implied that he’d get to be a badass rulebreaker with a heart of gold.

He shuffled out of the facility with a few new bruises and a new respect for being a decent human being for once.

Whether by coincidence of providence, he found himself wandering around the streets of Los Angeles nearly every night after he arrived, searching for some sort of sign that this was the place to be at this moment in time. If it wasn’t, he could always move on to the next place. But there was something about LA that felt right. Hot sun, hot people, lots of mischief and adventure.

A boy could become a man here.

He was stopped on the street as the fire station in front of him roared to life, and he watched through the window as men and women worked in tandem to load their gear and peel away from the hangar. 30 seconds of excitement suddenly left the building feeling empty enough for Buck to hear his own heart pick up.

Before he knew what he was doing, he walked up to the main door and rang the bell. A man in a uniformed t-shirt and pants answered, and invited him inside to tell him all about the exciting life as a Los Angeles Firefighter.

For the second time in his life, Buck left his name and number with a strange man, hoping this single interaction would change his life.

2017

Eddie took a deep breath; not screaming, this time, but exhaling the last of his nerves. This felt right. This was his decision, not his father’s – in fact, his father had no qualms about showing his disapproval at his decision.

But it felt right.

Being a firefighter was a lot like combat (with an eighth of the on-the-job stressors). But he still got to help people – he could use his skills he’d learned in the army to save lives at home the way he hoped he was doing overseas. And he could come home to his son every night.

He would have come home to Shannon, too, if he could get her on the phone for more than a few minutes at a time.

He hadn’t spoken with her in over a year, now. She’d stopped answering so he’d stopped calling and only part of his heart was broken for knowing that she’d run away, too.

Even if it was just him and Christopher for a little while, it would be still be a blessing to go save the world and be back in time for dinner (usually).

He was so tired lately. Working three jobs left him no energy to be with his son and even less desire to argue with his parents over how to best raise him.

Christopher needed stability, so he’d give it to him. He’d become a firefighter for whoever would take this mess of a human being, and build the life for his son that he deserved – a happy one.

Even if he wondered twelve times a day if a happy life was really a life with him. Maybe Christopher would be better off with his parents. He barely knew the little boy sleeping in his own bed and not a crib.

Isn’t that all the more reason to stay?

Before Eddie could second guess himself, he signed his name on the dotted line, and joined the row of recruits for the fire academy training.

2017

As far as first dates went, this one was strangely not the worst. That had involved jumping out the second story window of an apartment complex because her “technically still my boyfriend” was coming through the front door.

He’d twisted his ankle when his leg got caught on the fire escape and the police were called – though, thankfully, no charges were laid. Incredibly painful, and incredibly embarrassing.

Waking up in the hospital after his girlfriend had performed an emergency tracheotomy, was a very close second.

Unlike that awful first date, though. Abby was still at his side when he woke up. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d had someone to wake up next to – even if it was groggily coming off anesthesia after surgery.

It was nice.

She was nice.

God, he liked her so much. Why couldn’t the universe let him have one good date? He hadn’t had that many to begin with, was it so much to ask that things go right?

Abby was nice and smart and beautiful and liked him.

And she stayed.

She was at work when he signed himself out of the hospital but Bobby had been there, too, to drive him home since his car was still at the restaurant. They even went out for breakfast. That was new as well. Someone who willingly spent time with him and offered him advice and cared whether Buck took that advice.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a little addictive:

Having people in his life who stayed.

2018

Carla had to slap his hand during their tour of the school every time he tried to play with the lanyard around his neck. He managed to stop fidgeting after the first fifteen minutes, but the nerves never faded.

This was a huge risk. It was still early in the school year, but Christopher had just moved to LA. He had no friends, no social circle, no one outside of his family; and now Eddie wanted to move him to a highly specialized school.

What, just because it had small class sizes, and teachers who seemed to understand his son’s needs, and had incredible security measures, and was an opportunity for Christopher to get a better education than he had back in Texas, and it felt like a miracle that Carla convinced the school to see him on such short notice?

It was still an incredibly expensive miracle.

And there was the problem of getting a hold of Shannon. He’d told their lawyer when he was taking Christopher out of the state, and thankfully, her number hadn’t changed, but getting her to pick up the phone when he called his estranged wife had been an exercise in anxiety control.

If it meant that Christopher got the best care, nothing else mattered.

Even as his thought swam with a thousand unanswered questions (the loudest one being: what did that kiss in the parking lot mean for us?), Eddie’s hand was sure and still as he signed the registration form.

2019

Maddie was back in his life. He’d almost lost Maddie a few months after getting her back, but now that wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She was safe, and she was home with him; he had his big sister once again and that was all he needed.

It didn’t stop the nightmares from bolting him awake, reminding him that he could die tomorrow and then she’d be left alone. Or she could leave again and then he’d be alone.

He didn’t want that: he didn’t want to be alone again. He liked the people in his life. Maddie, Bobby, the 118, Eddie, Christopher; they were people he wanted to keep safe.

But the dangers he needed to protect them from weren’t always solved with a giant water hose or an axe. For everything else, he called a lawyer and got some advice.

Maddie had been very understanding when he told her about the will he planned to change so she’d receive a larger piece of his assets. She was his sister, he was always going to leave something to her, but now that she was back, he wanted to know that she’d be happy here without him in this place he’d convinced her to settle.

Eddie had been less understanding; grateful, yes, but speechless as to why Buck would want to leave his colleague so much (it was mostly for Christopher, he explained, so that he’d could have something for his future if he lost his best buddy). That had still led to a lot of protesting – eventually broken up by a confused by thankful Shannon – but nothing was compared to Bobby.

Bobby who teared up when Buck explained that he didn’t have a lot of things in this world, but if anything happened to him, he wanted Bobby to have something to remember him by.

That hadn’t been a lie, but maybe not a whole truth.

He wanted to know that the people he loved most were never left alone even after he left them.

Was that so much to ask for?

2019

Eddie hated funerals. He didn’t know a single person who enjoyed them; but he’d been to far too many in his short life to find any comfort in them.

They were burying his wife today.

She didn’t want to be his wife anymore but he hadn’t told anyone that. The shame that burned his throat when he thought of revealing that painful truth, was too sharp. He suffered in silence as he always had. It wasn’t just his own feelings he had to worry about; there was Christopher.

There was always Christopher – there would always be Christopher – he would never stop caring for his son as long as he lived (and probably long after as well). Because that’s what parents were supposed to do.

He found himself standing, poised with pen in hand over another piece of paper, frozen once again by his own indecision and fear.

What was he supposed to write in the book of her life? How was he meant to say goodbye to the only woman he’d ever loved? How could he close this chapter of his life with a flick of ink?

He couldn’t.

His eyes hooked onto his son’s back, sitting quietly beside his great grandmother, swinging his legs under the pews because he still wasn’t tall enough to touch the ground. He was so small; so young.

Christopher needed him to be strong; needed him to put it away so they could take care of each other.

Eddie signed the front page, and opened the book for the guests to sign.

2019

When Buck woke up in the hospital this time, he saw an angel, and for a moment he was terrified; but then everything was at peace.

The moments after he felt peace, however, were agonizing and terrifying. The moments before hadn’t been a picnic either, but at least his memories of laying underneath a ladder truck and being pulled to safety were still a little hazy. He remembered a warm hand in his and a few words of encouragement and a lot of screaming, but not much else.

Now that he was awake, fear was quickly becoming his only focus. The fear of not knowing whether the surgery had been successful – not knowing if he’d ever work again or if he’d have to start his life over. The fear of whether he would be the same man if he ever could go back to work. So much was uncertain, that he clung to the tiniest bit of hope: Ali, Maddie, and Carla. The women who would stay by his side no matter what.

It took him four days before he had the strength to walk to the end of the hall, and finally, the doctor was satisfied that the was safe to go home. He had never been happier being wheeled out to his sister’s car, than the day he got to sign himself out of the hospital, knowing that everything would be back to normal.

2019

Buck was man enough to admit that this punishment was nothing compared to what it could be. Three hours in the human resources office with Bobby, Chief Alonso and Alex, head of HR, signing his name to a million forms, could have been a lot worse.

Sure, his hand cramped about half an hour in, but it was worth it all if it meant he could finally go back to work.

It all seemed a little silly – not that he’d ever say that out loud. Buck had no intention of suing the city or the department (or Bobby) again. He’d meant what he said, though: he was a fighter. He’d fight for his job and his family however he could.

Sometimes he fought in really stupid ways that he didn’t realize were harmful until it was too late. But then he’d just have to fight to make up for those mistakes.

Buck was a fighter, plain and simple.

Tonight, he’d fight through hand cramps and eye fatigue. Tomorrow he’d fight for his friends’ trust.

And pray it was enough for them to let him come home.

2022

There was one recorded day of history in which Eddie Diaz felt happier than he did today: the day his son was born.

Nothing else compared to that day, vowing his fealty to Christopher and whatever he needed.

Today was a pretty good day, though.

He was dressed a lot nicer, that was for certain – not that he didn’t love the sea green scrubs, but a fitted suit was much more comfortable.

The company was also pretty good.

Christopher stood beside him in the mirror, adjusting his tie for the tenth time (even though Abuela told him to stop playing with it). He understood that the boy was nervous so he only smiled down at him and his slightly crooked tie.

There was a knock at the door and Eddie hurried to answer it, knowing exactly who would be on the other side.

Buck hadn’t stopped smiling since he arrived at the rental hall, taking all of Maddie’s teasing as she helped him dress for his big day. Nothing could dampen his mood; not the caterers calling in with last minute substitutions, not baby Gloria throwing up on Chimney all night, not a small tear in his suit jacket that neither of them could fix.

None of it mattered as he knocked on the door of the side room they’d set up.

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to see the groom before the wedding – but technically they weren’t supposed to sleep together the night before either, so one more break in tradition wouldn’t be the end of the world. Since the day they moved in together, Buck had never willingly spent a night away from their bed. Even on the nights when they were irreconcilably fighting, they’d sleep on opposite sides of the bed.

He was not about to sleep without his fiancé on the last night he got to call him his fiancé.

Eddie and Buck walked down the hallway to greet the officiant, Maddie waiting for them with two pens in hand.

This was it; the last step before they officially tied the knot. Everything after this was just icing on the cake (which reminded Buck, he needed to tell Eddie about the catering mishap after everything was sorted because he was more likely to panic). This was the moment where they would sign their names and be legally bound in the eyes of the world, as two people who wanted to spent their lives together.

Eddie was careful with his penmanship. His hands didn’t shake much – absolutely confident in this choice – but he wanted it to be perfect. This would be the last time he would sign his name on a piece of paper like this (and he wouldn’t sign his name on a book for others to impart their memories of his dearly departed for a very long time); so he savored every little detail as he lent his name to another cause he believed in wholeheartedly.

Buck laughed when he messed up the B in “Buckley” after spending hours for weeks on end, practicing his “Diaz”s. It turned into a strange series of vertical loops that someone could use in context to describe as a B, so he wasn’t too worried. In fact, he had no worries at all. Now, he had a happy memory attached to signing away his life to a man he hoped to know better with every passing day.

#cj writes things #cj answers things #love zee #zeethebooknerd #buddie #911 fox #911 fic #buddie fic #history of signatures

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forallyourikemensengokuneeds · 5 years

Text

battle for the heart

She watched as he passed by her office again. This had been the fifth time in less than an hour, and she began to wonder if something was going on that she hadn’t been told about. he didn’t move quickly, in fact, she could only think of three-time he had ever moved quickly in the five years she had known him. All those times it was a life or death situation, and he had made sure everyone walked away alive.

His long legs and thinner body had made him a target from the other men in his unit. He was the one who didn’t look like he belonged in the field alongside of them, but she knew. She knew as the unit doctor that he was more than built for the job. He was an impressive man regardless of his body, and he was good at his job. It had lead her to believe of course that she must be excellent at covering her own feelings. He never acted like he knew what she was thinking though he was apt to say whatever someone else was at any given time.

The slight friendship had grown between them, and he had taken it no further than that. She sighed as she remembered watching the other women in one of the lesser teams threw themselves at the men from his team and himself as well. It had been a wake-up call for her. Though he didn’t react to the other women beside a few curt words and a haughty sneer of a smile she knew sometimes some woman would finally catch his eye, and she would be forced to watch from afar. The thought broke her heart. She knew it had been time to distance herself from him and that also broke her heart as well.

“You going to the bar tonight?”, she heard from her door as she had finally gone back to the files she was supposed to clear today.

“No.,” she said without looking up. She knew who it was and regardless she also knew his expression as she declined.

“And why not?”, he asked as he took a step into her office. They had managed to keep a distance for the entire week as she had gently pushed away from him in almost everything.

“I have other things to do.”, she said with a sigh.

“Other things?”, he asked. “Such as…… possibly a date?”

“is it any of your business what I do?”, she responded.

“That was not an answer, my dear.”, he replied.

“And I don’t have to answer that.”, she said.

“Friends share.”, he said, “I am curious about the man who could steal your heart away.”

“only you thought it could be a date.”, she said. “I never said it was.”

“So Princess what will you be doing if not going out?”, he asked as he was now standing at the desk’s edge. She knew if she looked up his light eyes would be dancing with merriment as they stared at her which always seemed as if he was gazing into her soul.

“Working.”, she said as she kept her eyes focused on the paper. “You do realized I have like five jobs around here and none of them are without a weeks worth of paperwork each.”

“You work too much.”, he said softly.

“Someone has too.”, she replied still not looking at him. She heard him sigh and watched his legs turn and walk out the door. She also let out a sigh of relief. She had managed one more interaction with him and come out the victor. She knew it would only be about a million more like that, but she would take it one at a time.

He walked into his cramped office and sat back into his chair. He looked at the open door and let his mind wander for a few moments before he would be interrupted. She had taken to not looking at him and giving him as close to one-word answers. It had started a week ago after the weekly go out to the local bar, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. He hadn’t done anything to warrant such behavior from her. He thought back to the night in question.

The other woman who worked for the yellow and red teams were there and behaved as normal for them which in his mind was very much like a pack of rabid dogs. They were always on the prowl for a new piece of meat, but he was as dismissive as he always been. He was always careful around them because he knew they would just use whatever male they could and then discard them for the next piece of the food chain. He had rumors of other things they left in their wakes as well, and none of that appealed to him. She had changed after that night. As far as he could see she had remained on friendly terms with everyone but him. He could not figure out why.

“Did you talk with Princess?”, Hideyoshi asked as he walked in the room.

“She isn't coming, too much paperwork.”, he said with a shrug.

“Too much paperwork?”, hideyoshi asked as he looked around their shared office.

“That is what she said.”, Mitsuhide replied as he tried to focus on the folder in front of him that was sent in to be reviewed before the end of the day.

“Sounds like she is icing one of you guys out.”, Aaron said as he walked by and stuck his head in the door.

“Why would she do that?”, Hideyoshi asked.

“She does that to save herself. She did after I moved out of the house we used to share. It took years to get her to be normal again.”, Aaron said. “She handles change differently than most. She doesn’t like it. She would rather spend a weekend doing paperwork she could easily knock out in an hour than face whatever is actually bothering her. Good luck to the guy she is icing though, he is going to need it.”

“What did you say after you moved out of the house your two shared?”, Hideyoshi asked.

“Why yes, I did.”, Aaron replied with a smile, and he moved quickly away from the office.

Mitsuhide knew the reasons they had lived together for nearly two years. It had not been a romantic relationship though both of them often played it that way to get others to stop bothering them. So his little mouse was trying to ice him out of her life? He was now even more interested in figuring out why and what he had done to cause this. He figured he must have done something because it wasn’t like her to go off about something without reason. She wasn’t like other females who looked for things to get upset about without reason. He thought about her in her office not looking at him, and for some reason, his chest hurt a bit.

He wasn’t looking forward to the weekend as he normally did. She wouldn’t be there at the bar. There would be no reason for him to go either. He thought about that for a moment, and he smiled to himself. If she wasn’t going tonight neither was he. If she was going to work to clear her paperwork, he would clear some of his as well. She would not get rid of him that easy.

He looked at the clock on the wall. He had enough time to start on his plan. He was going to make her talk tonight. Even if it killed both of them. He looked up at Hideyoshi and thought to himself how he was going to get out of going tonight as well. His smile turned rather sinister.

“I am not feeling too well.”, Mitsuhide said.

“What?”, Hideyoshi asked.

“I think I am going to cut out now. The files have been gone over. I don’t feel all that good right now.”, Mitsuhide said.

“Okay fine.”, Hideyoshi went back to his report and thought about what the other man had said. “Wait! Like sick not feel good or something else?”

“I have a headache.”, Mitsuhide replied. The cause would be a five-foot blond woman about a hundred feet away who had locked herself in her office, he thought to himself.

“So you won’t be going tonight?”, Hideyoshi asked.

“No.,” Mitsuhide said as he started for the door.

Over the next few hours, she watched everyone file out the door from her desk. She knew there were only a few people left in the building. She hadn’t seen him leave though. She got up and walked to eh main break room to get a cup of coffee, but she knew she was really checking on him, to make sure he was gone. His office was next door to it. He wasn’t in the office as Hideyoshi was pulling the door closed and locked it.

“Don’t work too hard Princess.”, he said with a smile.

“Everyone gone?”, she asked.

“Yeah.”, he replied. “I always seem to be the last one.”

“Have a fun time tonight.”, she said.

“I would wish you the same, but since you are doing paperwork, I hope you get done soon.”, he said with a grin and went to the main hallway to exit the building.

She wondered when he had left. She normally saw when everyone left as her door was the closest to the main hallway. She would have known he was nearby. Maybe her senses to him were already dulling. She could only hope. She started walking back to the office on the corner of the two hallways. She walked in and sat down. She could finally settle into her work.

He walked back into the building the way he went out through the basement entrance. Most people forgot about that one, but he never had. The simple one guard at the station shook his head and let him in. “Akechi what is all that stuff?”, the guard asked.

“Something I hope works.”, Mitsuhide replied with a sly smile.

“Some lucky lady?”, the guard asked.

“Or one very stubborn one at least.”, Mitsuhide replied back.

“Son, they are all that.”, the guard chuckled as he went back to his seat and watched him go up the back stairs. As he ascended the stairs, he was think of where to set up. He had to be able to get her to go into the room without her realizing it was him. He thought about that for a minute, and as his plan took root in his mind, he headed to the perfect room to get her to walk in freely. He began to lay his plan down with absolute precision. He knew he only had one shot at this. If he couldn’t work it right now perfectly, she would be lost to him forever. That thought was unacceptable.

A flash of a conversation they had filled his mind. “Hideyoshi must spend five hundred dollars of flowers a month.”, he said.

“then he is doing everything wrong.”, she laughed.

“What do you mean?”, he asked.

“We don’t want flowers and candies all the time.”, she said.

“You don’t?”, he asked. “You do realize this is more than one woman right?”

“I do. I know how he is. He is still doing it wrong.”, she said “We don’t need flowers that will die to show men care. It is a nice thought every once in a while but not all the time.”

“What do women want then?”, he asked.

“That depends on the woman. It isn’t like we are all the same, but simply it is more about time then things. If you can figure out what a woman wants that has to do with your time, then you will have her eating out of your hand.”, she said.

“Time?”, he said.

“Yeah, time it is that simple. I like flowers don’t get me wrong, but I would rather have fifteen minutes of a neck rub or spend talking then I would constant bouquets of flowers that will wither and die.”, she said.

“Noted.”, he said, and he went back to finishing his drink. He filed it in the back of his mind and knew one day he would he would need it. Today was that day. It was all or nothing as he picked up the phone and called the main desk. “This is Akechi, could you please page Doc to come to the conference room?”

#mitsuhide akechi #my writing #ikemen sengoku inspired sort of #ikemen sengoku #ikesen

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missblanchette · 5 years

Text

Hippocratic Oath [3/4]

Series: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Jinguji Jakurai/Kannonzaka Doppo; Hifumi is Best Wingman

Rating: PG for language

Summary: The fact of the matter was that a relationship between a doctor and a patient was unethical. Sooner or later, one of them had to speak up about it. (Or: Jakurai and Doppo work out their Feelings™.)

Words: 3020

Notes: Communication is had and baby steps are made between our boys, wahoo

ko-fi // Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | You can read this on AO3! Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy! (*＾▽＾)／

Ch 3: Salary-man’s Session

Doppo was never big on SNS or anything of that sort, but the amount of staring at the screen he'd done this past week was enough to make up for his entire lifetime. In fact, his manager had called him out in front of everyone for slacking off, complaining that "these damn youngin's never take their eyes off their cell phones" (never mind that Doppo had been working through his lunch break). Regardless of how he wanted to die on the spot, he was still alive and stuck in a constant cycle of opening his email or the other apps he had Jakurai on, typing a message, and deleting it; open, type, delete; open, type, delete.

Groaning, Doppo tossed his phone to the side. His laptop laid on the coffee table with his sales reports unfinished and some variety show playing on the TV droned on and on. At least in the office, his boss and coworkers kept him busy by dumping shit on him. Ironic, that after all he'd complained about his job, all he wanted to do now was work. He didn't even have Hifumi here today since he left earlier for his fishing trip. With Jakurai. Something he only remembered because Hifumi had sent him a selfie of the two of them and their catches.

Burying his face in his hands, Doppo sank as far into the sofa as he could, hoping that it would suck him into the void. It did not.

No matter how much Doppo tried to distract himself, his thoughts would always fall back to Jakurai. But in order to cut off any romantic feelings he'd deluded himself into having, he'd have to stop thinking about him. But telling himself to stop thinking about him lead to thinking about him again. And again. And again. And again.

The front door swung open, giving him a small reprieve.

"Doppo! I'm ho~me!"

"Welcome back," Doppo said, voice muffled from behind his hands.

"Doppo-chin, don't tell me you've been sitting on the couch the whole day," Hifumi chided, accompanied by the rustling of his fishing gear.

"Not like I have anything better to do."

"You could've gone fishing with me and Dr. Jakurai!"

Doppo choked on his saliva. "D-Don't be stupid. I don't know how to fish."

"Eh, but didn't you say you wanted to go before?"

"That -- That was before. I changed my mind."

"Aw, don't be like that, Doppo-chin. You could always learn! Y'know, Doc wasn't all that great at first but now he's totes a pro." The zippers on Hifumi's backpack clinked to the beat of his footsteps, the tune ending as he plopped next to him on the couch. Pulling Doppo's hands off his face, Hifumi held onto them. "He could, like, teach you."

Squirming in his grasp, Doppo looked to the floor. "He's got other stuff to do."

"Nah, I think he'd be really happy to show you."

"Drop it," Doppo hissed between his teeth.

"Doppo-chin~" Hifumi drew his name out with a whine. "You really need to be more honest with your feelings."

Doppo squinted at him. "Huh?"

"Why didn't you tell me you and Dr. Jakurai were a thing?"

"What?!" Blood running cold, Doppo's breath caught stuck in his throat. Hifumi grinned, a glint in his eyes. "Where did you -- I never -- Dr. Jinguji, he -- We -- W-We are not a thing!"

"Doc told me what happened and you like him, too, don't you? That makes you guys a thing!"

"I do not like him!"

"Then why are you so upset?"

Doppo gnashed his teeth together, the thoughts he'd been running from rushing back like a tsunami. He tried to tear his grip from Hifumi, but he'd always been the stronger of them.

"I shouldn't like him," Doppo said, barely above a whisper.

"You have every right to like him."

"He's my doctor."

"I mean, isn't there like a kink for that?"

"Oh my God, Hifumi --"

"Well, if you're not into that, find another doctor!"

Recalling Jakurai's confession, Doppo bit his lip. That'd been the exact proposition Jakurai had used to breach the matter. While it sounded like a simple solution, it couldn't be that easy to solve a complex aspect of their relationship. Things were never that simple, Doppo told himself; simple things merely hid bigger problems. Doppo tasted iron on his tongue.

"He's our leader."

"Yeah, and?" Hifumi said, wiping the blood from his lips. "Wouldn't that be cute, two members of the same group dating?! Hey, that'd boost Matenrou's popularity, wouldn't it?"

Or rip them to shreds, Doppo thought, remembering how crazy the women of Chuuoku had been. He shivered as he put that memory away. It'd be better to play it safe rather than act upon his false feelings. No need to worry about upsetting anyone that way, no need to stress about getting into trouble.

"He's... I..."

Ear turned towards him as if his excuses couldn't reach him, Hifumi leaned in. Doppo heaved a sigh, his nostrils flaring as he shut his eyes.

"I'm... I'm not good enough for him!"

A small gasp. Hifumi squeezed his hands and tugged him closer.

"Doppo-chin, that's not true --"

"It is!" Gathering the strength to shove Hifumi off, Doppo backed off to the far side of the sofa and brought his knees to his chest. "I'm fucking desperate, I only like him because he's nice to me. I have nothing to offer him besides my goddamn rap skills and even then those are crap at best. It won't be long until he realizes just how shitty I am and hates me, so why bother?!"

Doppo panted as soon as he finished speaking, all the words spilling out quickly like a rap -- the battle between his heart and his mind, the stage his own self. He'd found solace in Jakurai, but good things rarely lasted. As much as he wanted to be with Jakurai, as much as he wanted to be by Jakurai's side, he'd have to stop anything from happening before what they had could be ruined.

A few seconds passed and Hifumi crawled over to join him, but not too closely. He placed a hand on his shoulder, which Doppo didn't swat away.

"Doppo, Doc cares a lot about you."

"He's a doctor, he's supposed to care for everyone."

"Okay, yeah, but. He's like completely head over heels for you."

Doppo gave him a look.

"He's always telling me to invite you on our fishing trips --"

"He's just being nice."

"-- and he's always asking about you. Y'know, today he kept zoning out because he was thinking about you~"

"I --" Doppo sputtered, the tips of his ears growing warm. "T-That can't be true."

"Oh, but it is~ He told me he lo~ves you and that he doesn't know what to do about it. Can you believe that? Dr. Jakurai not knowing what to do? You've swept him off his feet, Doppo-chin!"

Doppo hid his face behind his knees. "You don't have to say it like that..."

"Yes, I do, because it's true~" Hifumi said as he wrapped an arm around him, rocking the both of them side-to-side. "So, y'see, he likes you just like you like him. And if you both like each other, there's nothing wrong with giving it a shot! No 'but's or 'what if's!" The swaying motion stopped. Then, softly: "It's what you deserve, Doppo-chin."

Letting Hifumi's words sink in, Doppo swallowed hard. It’d been a week, six days to be precise, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Jakurai had actual feelings for him. That being the case, he couldn't accept more than what he was worth -- especially if it meant he'd be dragging down the one whom he cherished; pathetic he may be, but he refused to taint Jakurai as well. Yet, hearing all of Hifumi's counterpoints aloud made him stop and reconsider.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to pursue a relationship. Maybe things wouldn't crumble at his touch. Maybe he and Jakurai could work out. All these "maybe"s but not one definite outcome. Reconciling his heart and his mind was certainly a long way to go.

Doppo inhaled sharply.

"I'm going out," he said as he pulled himself out of Hifumi's hold.

"What? Why?"

"I need a drink." He stepped over Hifumi's fishing rod and rushed to the door.

"There's beer in the fridge."

His shoes were already on. "Fresh air, then."

"Doppo!" Hifumi hung over the couch, throwing something that hit him square in the chest. Yelping, he barely caught it before it dropped to the floor. His cell phone. "Don't stay out too late, okay? Come back safe, because I'm gonna make a super yummy dinner!"

Glancing at his phone then to Hifumi, Doppo nodded. "Sure."

And he was off.

As busy as the streets of Shinjuku were, nobody would bother him and that was exactly how Doppo liked it. He was free to wander as he pleased, listlessly and languidly, letting his feet guide him about the city. By the time he came back to his senses, the sun had dipped behind the skyscrapers and the pack of people had waned down. A quick look at his phone told him he'd been out for about an hour and Hifumi had sent him a message, but it remained unread once he realized where he was.

Shinjuku Central Hospital -- a familiar sight but the last thing he wanted to see. Leaning against the wall, Doppo huffed both out of frustration and exhaustion. He'd blame habit, but he always took the train to get here. Go figure that he'd end up at the one place he associated with Jakurai.

There was nothing for him at the hospital tonight, though, save for a reminder of his current predicament. Still, Doppo couldn’t bring himself to leave. This was very place where he'd met Jakurai so many months ago out of pure chance, the very place where Jakurai had invited him to share all his issues and worries with him, the very place where he'd grown to respect and admire Jakurai.

Absentmindedly, Doppo began hitting his head against the wall. Not enough to seriously injure himself, but enough to create a steady, rhythmic pounding against his thoughts. Every time he began to think that pursuing his desires was okay, the voices in the back of his mind grew louder and louder -- screaming at him, yelling at him, shaming him for what he wanted. Both his heart and his mind fought each other with such intensity that he wondered if it'd be easier to drop dead.

"Doppo-kun?"

His stomach dropped at the sound of that familiar, low voice. Doppo whipped around at breakneck speed, the very man he'd been dreading and hoping to see looking at him with a concerned expression.

"D-Dr. Jinguji?! What are you doing here?" Just as the question left his mouth, Doppo slapped his already numb forehead. "I mean, it being your day off and all..."

"I was called in for an emergency, but I believe I should be asking you the same thing. Oh, your mouth --" Belatedly did Doppo remember he'd bitten his lip to the point of bleeding earlier. Jakurai's fingertips hovered above his lips, and Doppo braced himself for the touch that never came. "Are you all right?" Jakurai asked, pulling his hand away after a moment's hesitation. Doppo's shoulders sagged.

"I'm fine, don't worry. I was... er, I was taking a walk."

"You live quite a ways from here," Jakurai said, amusement in his tone.

"I needed a long walk." A pause. "A really long walk."

"I see. Would you like a drive home?"

"No, you don't have to, I'll --" Doppo patted his pockets, only to realize he'd left his Suica card at home. Dammit. "-- I'll walk back. I need the exercise anyways."

"It’s good to be active, but it’ll get dark soon. I don't mind taking you."

"It's okay, Doctor, sorry for taking up your time. Um, bye."

Without waiting for a response, Doppo hurried along. He came to a standstill, however, as he reached the end of the block and Hifumi's words rang throughout his mind once more. While he'd been avoiding his dilemma, thinking it'd go away eventually, perhaps he needed to take a direct approach instead. Turning, he saw Jakurai standing where he left him.

Technically, Jakurai was still his doctor. Surely one more round of consultation wouldn't hurt. Sheepishly, Doppo jogged back.

"Actually, Dr. Jinguji, can I talk to you about something? As a patient, I mean."

Jakurai raised an eyebrow, but that gave way to the warm smile and gentle gaze that Doppo adored.

"Of course, Doppo-kun. What seems to be the problem?"

An orthodox session for an intricate matter. He'd never had an appointment take place outside of Jakurai's office, or outside the hospital on that fact, nor had one while in his pajamas. Likewise, Jakurai wore a down vest rather than his lab coat and the evening breeze blew his lavender locks all over his face. Despite it all, hearing Jakurai follow their usual dialogue calmed his nerves.

"Well, it's not about me per se, it's about a friend. Not Hifumi." No doubt Jakurai could see right through him, but he made no comment on it.

"What about your friend?" he asked, resting his left hand against his face in its usual pose.

"He's going through a bit of a crisis with this guy.” An understatement, really, but he continued on. "It's not actually a problem with the guy, it's more with himself. You see, this guy told him he had feelings for him, but I -- my friend isn't sure what to do because he thinks he doesn't deserve this guy. He... my friend feels like he only likes this guy because this guy's helped him so much."

Compared to all the shitty things in his life, Doppo could only count the good things on a single hand and Jakurai was definitely one of them. Medical treatment, an outlet, an opportunity to change the world -- to change himself; Jakurai had given him all that and more. As bleak as life had been before, Jakurai helped him see that someone like him was capable of doing something worthwhile. Even if he sacrificed everything, gave all that he could to him, nothing could possibly equal what Jakurai had done for him. He yearned, nevertheless, for his affection, for his tenderness. Would it really be so wrong to allow himself this one grace in his miserable existence?

"It's not that he doesn't like this guy, he just thinks that he won't be able to make him happy. He doesn't want this guy to make a mistake by being with him. I... guess I would like to hear what you have to say? Because I've been stressed out trying to help him through it."

Jakurai's eyelids fluttered closed as he let out a hum, drowning out the distant cars racing down the streets. The sun had set as Doppo had been talking, the street lamps that lined the block becoming the stars that filled the night sky. As if the heavens itself, their light framed Jakurai in an ethereal blue and he stood before him like an angel. Never had Doppo felt so at peace while waiting.

"Your friend sounds hard on himself, no?" Jakurai spoke up.

"Haha, yeah..."

"But I understand where he's coming from, it's a difficult position to be in. Nonetheless, I think his worries are simply that: worries. Does this man make him happy?"

Doppo nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Very much, but he's scared he'll mess everything up."

"Relationships are quite daunting, aren't they? But relationships require those involved to trust each other, after all. If this man and your friend share mutual feelings, they will be able to work things out no matter how much he doubts himself."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes," Jakurai said, not missing a beat. His eyes met Doppo's. "Love can be scary -- terrifying, even -- but that fear is something you can overcome if you're both willing to try."

Somehow, they'd ended up mere centimeters away from each other, but neither of them made the move to close the gap between them. The clamor of the city and the dissonance within Doppo's self became but an afterthought as Jakurai's azure gaze bore into his -- an azure that enveloped him in a sea of serenity and warmth. Closer and closer, his fingers inched towards Jakurai's hand and it was only when he felt his phone buzzing that Doppo remembered himself.

"I'll tell my friend that," Doppo said, ducking down and scratching his head. Hastily, he checked his phone to see that Hifumi had sent him another text. He ignored it. "Thank you for the advice, Dr. Jinguji, you always know what to say."

Coughing into his hand, Jakurai stood back with what Doppo could've sworn was pink dusting his cheeks. "It's no problem, Doppo-kun, I'm happy to help whenever possible. I hope your friend is able to work something out."

"Me, too..." He trailed off, unsure of where to go from there. A part of him wanted to stay with Jakurai for the rest of the night; the other part could only handle so much excitement for one day. "I... guess I should get going now. I think Hifumi might be getting worried," he said, pointing at his phone.

"Ah, I suppose it’s getting late. Are you sure you don't want a ride back?"

"Thanks for offering, but yes, I'm sure."

Taking a small step towards him, Jakurai opened his mouth but no words came out. Then, he shook his head, a smile adorning his face.

"Very well. Let me know once you've gotten home?"

"I will," Doppo said, bidding him good night with a wave.

Slowly, carefully, Doppo forced himself away from Jakurai, but he did so with a lighter heart and a clearer mind. For once, his chest thumped with exhilaration rather than rattled in trepidation.

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #jakudo #jakudoppo

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dateflight398 · 3 years

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Dating As A Single Dad Reddit

Dating As A Single Dad Reddit Free

Dating Single Parents Reddit

Reddit Dating Advice

A few years ago, I started cracking jokes regularly about hot dads. Then when I met a charming, handsome dude with good taste in music and tacos at a secret Santa vinyl swap party last winter, I started dating one. Suddenly the jokes seemed a little creepy, and although I actively pumped the brakes on making them, those familiar with my menagerie of hot dad puns rose a skeptical eyebrow. I didn't seek out a hot dad, it just happened. Hotness aside, there's some unexpected things that happen when you date a single dad.

I've dated ('dated') divorced dudes before, which might be a little similar, but this relationship marks my first with a parent. When the relationship was brand-spankin' new, a lot of close friends lamented renditions of, 'I could never DATE A PARENT.' They echoed sentiments of kids being deal breakers. But I just figured, we're getting older. Everyone has a past and brings baggage into a relationship. And sometimes that baggage needs soccer lessons. Although, of course, I find my partner's child a deeply charming, fun, hilarious little human who doesn't qualify as 'baggage.' You know what I mean. A man willing and thrilled to take on the dad role shows commitment. It shows a patient man who gives a damn and has a loving heart. These are positive things. However, yeah..dating one of these men summons some unique situations sometimes.

Aug 27, 2018 Single dads have responsibilities, and that’s a sign that they’ll be able to handle a relationship maturely. Speaking of fatherly responsibilities, single dads have to take their kids to the Dentist, the Doctor, and other appointments. This means that it should be relatively easy to meet a single dad if you’re looking to date one. If you’re newly single, ease into it. Remember, you’re the grown-up here. “The decision to date is 100. Single Officers, hows your dating life? I am a Deputy that is currently working in the county jail. I was recently set up on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She was was really cute from her pictures and i was told she was a great person so i agreed. We met for dinner and I was actually having a good time.

He gets along great with your dad

I already knew I was dating a sociable, nice guy, and my dad is the same way, but I don't know how I failed to predict this easy bond. It's kinda unbelievably cute to watch them nerd out on fatherhood together.

He moves easily in different social situations

If he has to make pleasant conversation with other parents during tae kwan do, he can flow harmoniously through your old coworker's new girlfriend's potluck.

Finding tiny clothes in your clean laundry

Or..not even that tiny. Just not yours and not big enough to be his. I recently unearthed a red T-shirt that was definitely not mine in a batch of clean laundry I did at bae's house. Granted, I'm a fairly petite person and my boyfriend's child is seven. Even though I modeled it for jokes above, I resisted the urge to actually don and sport it around. That seemed too far.

Reexamining past relationships

Every situation is different, but my boyfriend is still on amicable terms with his child's mother, who also lives near us. Matters are so peachy that she even shared me on a Google Calendar she, her boyfriend, and my boyfriend share re: who has chief parenting duties when (it's half-and-half, really). This kind of amazing camaraderie made me really look at past relationships I'd previously kept duct-taped in a box and tossed the way-back part of the closet. I'd like to say this exercise made me resurrect toxic romantic relationships as healthy friendships, but that hasn't quite happened yet (and with some specific ones, I honestly can't see that ever happening). More than anything, I think it's helped me recognize the hard fact that all humans have faults and, in general, good intentions. Harmony can exist with a little work. (Though to be fair, I can't take credit for the calendar. That's all his superstar ex's handiwork and maturity.)

Realizing people sure like to make fun of/talk about dads

I actually muted #dadbod from Twitter and had to fake a million smiles for people trying to relate to me by bringing the meme up IRL. Also very tired of the dad joke thing (which is real, sure, but still not a phenom I care to discuss for the 999th time).

There's far less invented drama

Dating As A Single Dad Reddit Free

When a person has to care for another human, they simply have less emotional and physical energy to invent snafus or hang-ups. Nothing is a big deal unless it's an actual Big Deal. He has developed a wisdom to help him identify the difference between the two, and if you haven't already done the same, hanging with him long enough will be educational.

You have an incredibly patient partner

Someone who had to teach a tiny, indignant child how to master the toilet isn't gonna flip when you need to take nine breaks hiking back out of a canyon.

You save money

I've never considered my income sizable until I started thinking of the glaring fact that I don't have to split it with anyone. Since single dads still have to, you know, fund their child, there isn't always a ton of extra dough to fund flippant outings to fancy cocktail bars or jump onto tubing trips you didn't even want to attend in the first place. It inspires you to be more mindful of your own spending habits. As such—

He's wildly creative with cheap and free activities

And knows every single dope park worth visiting in town.

It forces you to address your own insecurities..

So when the kid asks, 'Why are you wearing lipstick?' You can actually think to yourself, '..Yeah. Why am I doing that?' And in a more serious sense, it forces you to dissect immature impulses. Like when you're running late to meet a friend because you're stuck in a child-stuffed lantern parade one town over, you're not allowed to bitch and force your S.O. to help you summon an Uber to pick you up, STAT—because he's too busy pushing the kid on a skateboard inside the festivities to indulge your princess agenda. It makes you take a more discerning look at this princess agenda and brainstorm ways to be more reasonable in general.

..and to be an adult yourself.

I was playing with the kid at a playground near my boyfriend's apartment and when an authority figure from the attached daycare came out to ask if we had permission to be there, I immediately turned to the child. Then I realized, 'Oh fuck. I'm supposed to answer here.' I've always been a touch afraid of authority but knew I had to handle the current situation. It turned out fine, by the way.

Conversely, it means you can't let jealousy get to you with exes. I used to let envy blind me badly in the past—even if a boyfriend managed to remain congenial with an ex, the whole bond made me feel rattled as hell. Now that I'm with a person who's ex will be around in a close way forever and ever amen, I have to be OK with that. Which is the adult thing to do anyway. We can't let ourselves feel threatened for no viable reason.

He knows the world doesn't revolve around him

This can be a difficult quality to find in this world of overgrown Peter Pans on the hunt for their own Mother figure—a person to handle all the less savory household duties, remind them to go to the doctor, praise them constantly, hinge their daily or long-term plans on what Pan wants or says he needs. This situation is different, because he already takes on that role for his child while still taking decent care of himself. Playing Mother to a series of adult Peter Pans got old, so this kind of attitude is a very welcome change of pace.

He is deliberate

Since there's a kid involved, he isn't trying to be all willy-nilly with decisions in life—both those that do and don't concern you. That's pretty hot, TBH.

You can dodge responsibility for your music choices

When 'Uptown Funk' happens six times in a row, I can blame that on the kid (which is true). Same with Katy Perry (which might be an extrapolation or even just my idea).

It's hard to gross him out

Possibly one of the best treats of dating a dad. If your cat got secretly sick and he steps barefoot into a pile of barf, he doesn't love it but he understands that happens (probably because he has experience direct skin-to-someone else's-barf contact before). He also doesn't panic about periods or farts or other body stuff.

Dating Single Parents Reddit

His place is gonna be messy..forever

Cleaning is one of my favorite forms of therapy, likely because if I'm in a highly cluttered space physically, that transfers mentally and makes me feel like a stressed-out trashcan. Very early in this relationship, I suggested I help my boyfriend with an intense cleaning sesh of his kitchen. We had a lot of wine and played loud punk and soon it was gleaming. This lasted about 36 hours. With a child and full-time job and other luxurious duties such as bathing oneself and staying fed (AND keeping the kid fed), cleaning falls to the wayside. Besides not having enough time to clean, kids are just miraculously mess-inducing machines. Tireless ones. As such, I try to see this situation as an opportunity to relax my OCD tendencies and work to become a more patient, understanding person. Of course my apartment is much cleaner—because I only have to account for me. It isn't fair to hold him to the same standard.

You learn how to relinquish some control

I recognize I have some control freak tendencies, relationships included. A lot of life is outside our control and dating someone with a child is a very effective reminder that no matter what, we can't always call the shots. We have to be adaptable. As such, I waited until my boyfriend thought it would be OK to introduce me to his kid. And even then, it's not like I leapt from a cake and shouted, 'I AM YOUR NEW MOM!!!!!!!!!!!' Not at all. I'm still just a buddy who kicks it from time to time to join in on eating pizza or playing 'balloon' or the occasional ride home from school. When and if my boyfriend wants to explain my role in his life to his child, that's not really up to me. It's a discussion he and I can have, but it's not my endeavor to pilot.

You get a bit of perspective about your own age..

It's fun to make fun of Oldsters until you realize you are now one. This is highlighted by the frequency at which you offer anecdotes children don't want to hear, always marked with the beginning, 'When I was a kid..' They don't care, probably. They just don't need to hear about how your lack of skills with Donkey Kong at age seven feeds into your lack of skills with Mario Kart Racing at age 27. They're just stoked to authentically beat an adult.

..and your general level of importance.

Not to say my boyfriend treats me like I'm not important; He treats me with total kindness and respect. It's just that I have dated people in the past who put me on a pedestal, and you know what? The oxygen gets pretty thin up there. Although I'm sure it's meant as an appreciative gesture, it's unrealistic and puts a lot of pressure on the person sitting on top of it. Dating a parent, though, means no matter what, there is always going to be someone more important than I am in the mix. And I am so so OK with that.

There's no room for jealousy

If a sitter falls through last-minute, that means reservations gotta be canceled and dinner gets moved to the living room and the main dish will probably be pizza. You can't take it personally if homie is late because his child's mother got a flat tire so he had to go help out. You also can't get suspicious when he's on the phone with her a lot. These are complicated waters to navigate and if you're even to dip a few toes beneath the surface, you gotta be able to resign yourself to faith and trust—two things that ought to be present in any grown-ass relationship anyway. It's just here, it's especially non-negotiable.

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Reddit Dating Advice

Shit doesn't have to be so serious

I never babysat growing up and none my nieces and nephews live close by, so I don't actually have much experience hanging out with kids. The first time I met my boyfriend's child, I was 900 times more nervous than meeting any adult. What were we supposed to do or talk about? 'Seriously, whatever,' he instructed. After a while, the nerves dissolved and we were playing a stirring game of 'balloon,' which entails whacking a balloon back and forth between two or three people in a living room. Extra rules vary, but usually Taylor Swift is a necessary soundtrack. Things just don't have to be so serious in the sense that kids are very fun and it's almost astounding how quickly you can reverse back to such an easily entertained brain space. It's freeing to launch into some weird accent and spike a deflating balloon in the air without fear of being judged. It scratches a specific existential itch.

There's no ego

Because guess who makes the weird accent and plays balloon when you're not around? Conversely, though— Gaydia gay dating site reviews.

You can have serious conversations without scaring each other

Although I'm sure there are exceptions, most of the time when a single dad is dating, he isn't just screwing around. It's surprisingly refreshing to sink into a relationship and have the comfortable freedom to discuss individual big-scale hopes and goals. In other relationships, talking about the future at all can often be exactly the catalyst to send Pan off packing for a return and permanent trip to Neverland.

You retain a lot of your own time

Often, especially in new relationships, it can be hard to balance love stuff and friends. https://dateflight398.tumblr.com/post/658104267855577088/catholic-dating-app-free. Assuming you're in a situation with split custody in a local setting, that means half the time you get to yourself. It helps slow things down early on and maintain other hobbies, tinkerings, friendships, and such in your own life. It's the antithesis to smothering and fosters vital independence.

Images: TriStar Picturs; Giphy(23); Beca Grimm

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dcbicki · 7 years

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“You’re Gonna See it Someday; It’s Affection Always” - Chapter 2

Fandom: Veep Characters: Dan Egan, Amy Brookheimer Pairing: Dan/Amy Rating: T (use of mature language) In which Amy’s pregnant, and Dan already has a plan mapped out for them.

He’s a fucking snake with the eyes of a hawk. Of course he’s up to something. She knows him, better than anybody else probably ever has, ever could.

“And now you’re gonna eat.” He reaches down, picks up a rounded bowl. “Eating for two now, Amy.”

She’s seriously gonna stab him with a fucking spoon.

Chapter 1: x | x

In truth, her reaction was exactly what he’d been excepting, what he’d envisioned.

Of course she was gonna be all headstrong and independent. Of course she was gonna turn him down and laugh in his face. She is Amy. She wouldn’t be herself if she hadn’t.

“Uh, no, I’m fucking not?” She’d raised a brow, face all blank and shit. “Jesus, fuck, Dan!”

“What?” He’d smirked, standing tall and confident. “You could do worse.”

“I could do better.”

“Not while you’re carrying my kid.”

“True, but better doesn’t have to mean I have to have someone, you dumbass. Maybe I’ll be a single parent.” Amy had shrugged, shoulders tense, collarbones raised.

“I don’t doubt you’d make a great single mom, Amy.” Dan offered, complimented, taking one closer when she takes one back, steps towards her as she backs away from him. “I’m just saying, it might be easier if we did this together.”

“You wanna raise a kid? You?” She couldn’t help but laugh at that, all sharp teeth and true smile.

It’s definitely not that he wants to, fuck no. It’s more that he feels the desire to because there are certain perks to having a child. Especially given their… situation.

“Dan, you wouldn’t even be able to look after a fucking goldfish. You’d forget to feed it, and never clean its bowl-”

With a roll of his eyes, he’d scooped up his jacket and rounded her, heading for the door. “Think about it.”

“Marrying you?” Amy had scoffed, nose crinkled, eyes squinting, “I gotta say, you aren’t really selling it to me. I don’t know how you’ve already gone through like six fiancées.”

“You’d be surprised how devoted I can pretend to be, Ames.”

“So you’d be pretending to give a shit about the kid?”

“I didn’t say that, did I?” He’d pulled the door open, stepped one foot through but kept a hand wrapped around the frame, just as he has on the way in.

It’s not like he doesn’t already give a shit about her…

He’d leant over her then, and she’d immediately regretted ever following him to the door. He’s warm where she’s cold, and it’s so strange.

Dan is not supposed to radiate warmth. Dan usually gives off fucking radioactive energy because he’s toxic to be around. So what the fuck?

“Marry me, Brookheimer.”

Of course he’d smirked. Of course his proposal had been more grossly self-indulgent than charmingly sincere.

“Fuck off, Dan.” If he didn’t have the face of a mass murderer, if she didn’t know him all too well, the tone of his voice would have almost made it – his lame excuse of a fucking proposal – sound honest, sweet, caring. His douchebag face hadn’t gotten the memo, though.

He’d left after that, after she’d shot him down blank and damn near shoved him through the doorway.

Okay, fine. He’s not at all surprised by her reaction, but that doesn’t mean he’s accepted it. Or that he’s going to accept it any time soon.

He’s not creepily persistent, by nature. He’s as far from being like Jonah as he could get, he likes to imagine. He doesn’t force people into things, doesn’t like it when others force people into things. Physical sexual harassment? Fucking disgusting.

But, despite this, he isn’t exactly a saint. Far fucking from it. He’s used people to his own advantage (countless times now, he gloats), and he’s never really apologised for his behaviour.

He knows he’s an absolute asshole, and that there’s no fixing him. He wouldn’t even try to change if the opportunity arose. But he’s game for anything, adaptable like a motherfucking political chameleon who’s ready to blend in with anything red, white or fucking blue.

And this? Knocking up his attractive coworker, who semi-successfully served as a former president’s senior advisor? Whom he has a publicly acknowledged ‘romantic’ history with?

Knocking up America’s reluctant poster-child for pretty little blonde girls who can grow up and create change, or at least prove that change is within us all? Knocking up the snappy, shrill (he’s never really agreed with that assessment), petite all-black wearing right-hand woman of Selina Meyer?

Having a baby with Amy Brookheimer while working alongside her every damn day and night, campaigning for a post-presidency President who finally (kind of, almost) has the nation’s full support behind her?

Golden.

Hell, he can probably work the whole moving-to-Nevada-to-shack-up-with-a-governor-come-cowboy thing into this, if he has to. He can angle it so that bland talking tree branch is once again humiliated.

Fuckin’ golden.

So, the next morning, when they’d been leaving the hotel to head back to New York, he’d talked Kent into swapping cars so he could slide in next to Amy, much to Selina’s dismay.

“What the fuck, Dan?” She’s rubbing in some hand cream, the tube of which Gary is putting away in some seemingly endless pocket deep inside the Leviathan.

“He had to talk with Ben about something, so we-”

There’s a hand held up, and Selina is already signing out of this would-be conversation, eyes cast out the window, “Amy, did you get those emails I had Gary forward you?” She’s eyeing the blonde beside Dan.

“Yes, yes.” She’s rummaging through her purse (on a weird angle), hair falling in her face, and then she’s yapping on about something Dan only has half a mind to listen in on because there are eight new messages on his phone and there’s honestly a lot more interesting.

Amy can’t find whatever she’s looking for, though.

It’d be easier if you uncrossed your legs, for fuck’s sake. Dan just watches her then, all breathless sentences and small hands. It’s only half a surprise when he realises that he’s missed this – being around her all the time, working together, watching her in her element. It’s like getting a good look at a wild animal on the brink of extinction flailing around in its natural habitat. Amazing.

She’d told him her talents were being wasted all year, especially since coming back to work with Selina and co, and (truthfully) he’s glad she’s found a purpose again. Or, rather, that Selina seems to have found a purpose for her again.

He won’t lie, of course Selina’s hiring of BKD had something to do with the guys – himself included, obviously – suggesting Amy be made campaign manager. She’d been good at it last time (after his breakdown, before her breakdown), and she’d been under-utilised so far in the Meyer post-presidency, by Selina herself and that thumb-twiddling twig of a man she’d temporarily hitched her wagon to. Jesus, he couldn’t stand him.

There’s a reason they’d almost snatched her up (oh, so close!) to come work with them, and it hadn’t even been Dan’s idea to bring her in in the first place.

Ben had propositioned them (because she’s like a weird surrogate daughter to him, a child he actually would have wanted), Kent had nodded and said something along the lines of ‘She’s definitely an asset. Her numbers are far superior to any other candidate’s we’ve interviewed so far’.

And Dan had simply agreed (maybe a little bit too eagerly even, despite himself), felt a rather strange gnawing sensation eating at his insides when she’d appeared in the office that day. Sure, he’d smiled like a fucking freshly fucked dick coated in slickness in human form. Sure, he’d been having some frankly fantastic fantasies of her as of late, all hot and horny and his.

But maybe it was just because they hadn’t been together in so long, hadn’t shared more than (just) a couple of drinks in over a fucking year. Maybe he was only grinning like a goddamn teenager that day because he’d missed her, and he quite liked the idea of getting to work with her and her mind again.

She’s fucking smart (brilliant, in a way, in her own way). She’s actually competent, and good at the job given to her, which is a fucking rarity these days. She is an asset, Kent’s not wrong about that; that’s why he’d quite liked the idea of having her around a lot more.

Because he wanted to work with her again, mess her up again, rub her the wrong way (or the right way) again.

It definitely wasn’t because they’d finally given in and fucked after years of built-up tension, and he was more than willing to do it again.

It definitely wasn’t because he’d missed touching her, even just the sharpness of her elbow, even just one hand on her arm.

It definitely wasn’t because he missed having her tear him apart and then be the only one he would let build him back up again.

It wasn’t because she was the only person he actually liked.

She’s finally found her phone and she’s scrolling through her calendar, ignorant to Dan’s peering eyes. Nosy prick.

She’s got some dates marked in blue, while all others are red. And it’s only when Dan realises the spacing between all the blue dates that he works it out.

“Amy.”

Locking her phone then, she snaps her head up and furrows both brows. “I’m sure Richard could do it, ma'am. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment that day.”

What can Richard do? What are your plans, Amy?

“And your appointment is more important than my pre-campaign campaign, yeah?” Selina licks her teeth, shakes her head with disdain. Dan is gonna fucking strangle her scrawny neck one day. “Don’t fuck this up, Amy. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here.”

Yeah, because your last run at a presidency would’ve been even half as successful if she hadn’t been campaign manager, Dan thinks.

Fuck, he’d done the job himself. He knew just how well Amy had done when she was given the job. Better than him, better than fucking Kent. (But that wasn’t saying much.)

“I won’t, it’s just- It’s unmovable.”

“You know what else in unmovable? This fucking crick in my neck.” Selina’s writhing, waving a hand over at Gary as though he can miraculously cure it.

When she’s too preoccupied with Gary’s long fingers rubbing at her neck (okay, nobody needs to see that) to pay them any mind, Dan looks over down at Amy, shifts away from Richard so he’s closer to her than the Yogi Bear of a man. (When the fuck did he get in here?)

“Thought about it yet?”

“No, Dan.” She grits her teeth, avoids his gaze.

“You haven’t given it any thought or you’re still giving me a solid 'no’?”

“Both.”

He frowns at that, crosses one knee over the other so his leg brushes against hers. He slips his hand down to his knee to scratch it, but then he taps his index finger against the outside of her thigh.

“We don’t have a lot of time, Ames.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you start to show. Before people notice and words gets out.

“Just a few months.”

“What are you, the fucking Riddler? Christ.” Amy sighs, encloses her phone in one hand, palm sealed shut, and she folds her legs tighter, moving away from his wandering hand.

Dan glares down at her from out of the corner of his eye, but he keeps facing the back window, right beside Gary’s fucking balding head. (How old is he?).

Is she seriously going to play this game? Fine. He can play, too.

“I’m just saying, your sister would be better off if she married that guy.”

Amy’s body tenses then, and she purses her lips. Dan beams beside her, all confident and cocky. Oh, no. Oh, fuck no. She shakes her head, false smile instantly plastered over her face, “My sister can fend for herself. And it’s none of your fucking business.”

“I’m not saying she can’t do it alone, I just think having the dad around would be better for everyone involved-”

We are not having that conversation again already, you stupid bastard.

“It’s not your decision to make, though.”

“No, but I think she should consider all her options.” Selina is staring at them now, frowning and curious. Fuck.

“Oh,” Richard pipes up from beside Dan, all smiley and wide-eyed like a slow child yet to be diagnosed with idiocy, “I see what you’re doing.” He nods, “You guys are talking about Amy being preg-”

Dan nudges him then, a hard jab to his ribcage, and he kicks him in the shin at the same time. Turning to face Richard, his expression shoots off a very clear message.

Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you, you dopey Chewbacca looking fuck.

“Amy’s sister being pregnant?” Richard corrects, pulls on his tie as his smile lowers, “Sorry, had something caught in my throat just then.” He clears his throat as though that’ll confirm it.

“Something to tell me, Dan?”

“Hmm?” The man turns his head, “No, ma'am. We were just discussing Amy’s sister’s situation.”

“That fucking trainwreck? No offence, but your sister’s a bit of a drip, Ame. I don’t know anyone who’d fuck her well enough to get her pregnant. Up the ass, maybe, if that was an option.”

“No offence taken, ma'am.” Amy smiles, clearly enjoying the unintentional shade thrown at Dan.

Take that, you prick.

When they finally get back to New York, everything moves so fast that they barely have time to talk, much to Amy’s relief and Dan’s dismay.

She’d been unwilling to even acknowledge his existence on the plane, and he’d been seated too far from her to even bother trying to talk. Bitch. Of course she’d booked far away seats. Damn it.

He’d made his move when they all got settled in, though.

It was already the next day when he saw her again, dressed all in black, walking around Selina’s offices like she owned the place. Good. He’d stepped out of the elevator, slid his phone away, and tugged at her arm a little too lightly for anybody to notice.

“Can I talk to you?”

“No, you may not.” She shrugs him off, flicking long blonde hair over her shoulder and resting her iPad down on a desk as she talks to one of the interns. She says something about needing to get in touch with the head of some board of directors, about needing a meeting, and Dan only gives half a shit about whatever is or isn’t happening.

Then she’s springing back around, facing him indirectly because Gary has stopped between them both, “Amy, can you try this coffee?” He’s staring down at the mug in his hand like some kind of mentally challenged imbecile.

Nothing new there, Dan notes, watching the scene unfold with half a frown, half a smile playing on his face. How he hasn’t missed this - watching the complete travesty that is Selina’s bagman try to go about daily life, try to act like a normal human being. Fuckin’ imbecile.

“It’s a new brand we’re trying, but it’s decaf and I’m not sure Selina’s gonna-”

Amy sighs, eyes closing with a groan, “Just give me the fucking coffee, Gary.” She practically snatches the cup from his hands, doesn’t bother blowing it, doesn’t mind the boiling steam escaping past the rim of the mug.

Dan doesn’t know if it’s the taste that does it, or the sheer fact that she’s drinking coffee – he guesses it’s the latter – but she’s spewing the brew out before Gary can even get another word in, and there’s a light brown liquid splashing all over the wooden flooring suddenly.

“Oh my God!” Gary’s hurrying for towels, all wide-eyed and gawking. Amy’s still holding the mug, but she’s wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and clearing her throat as though to rid herself of the taste.

“What the fuck, Amy?” Yeah, sure, play along, Danny. He approaches but keeps some distance, though he grabs the cup and places it on a nearby desk. “You could’ve at least tried to reach the sink.” He nods his head over to the kitchen.

“Fuck you.” Seems that’s her new favourite greeting these days. “Why are even here?”

“You know what, I don’t know. I mean, Jesus Christ, I’m here for two seconds and you’re nearly puking fuckin’ coffee in my face.”

“Yeah, make this all about you.”

Gary returns then, kneeling down to dab paper towels over the stain, checking around to make sure the drink hasn’t reached any of the nearby rugs. Imbecile, Dan shakes his head.

“Amy, are you okay?” He trails off, gets up to check her over, hands on her shoulders, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Gary.” She shakes him off, presses a napkin to her lips, “Just don’t give that shit to Selina or she’ll ruin her carpet.”

Aversion to coffee? Check.

Telling Dan was the easy - well, easier - part; it’s letting Selina know that her campaign manager is knocked up (and staying knocked up) that’s going to be a struggle.

But she has to do it. If that incident was anything to go by, she isn’t exactly going to be able to hide it for very long. She’s an avid coffee drinker by nature, so someone is surely going to notice something wrong very fucking soon.

An Selina will either be delighted for her (and already plotting how to use an unborn baby as a campaign strategy), or the insults will come pouring out and she’ll let Amy know just how badly she screwed up this time.

Knowing Selina, it’ll probably be the latter.

Or she’ll just be surprised that Amy could even get pregnant in the first place, given she thinks the younger woman’s flirt game is so weak in the first place. Fuck, she unsuccessfully tried pimping her out to Leon the very same night she slept with Dan.

I can be very flirtatious.

Maybe it wasn’t a case of her being very good at flirting, or seducing anyone, or even attracting anyone, but more a case of: Amy, you know Dan. You’ve done this before. And, hey, you’re both miserable. Fuck each other out of convenience. Fuck the misery out of each other.

That’s the way she’s choosing to see it, at least.

“Ma'am, do you have a second?”

“Sure, Ame.” She rounds her desk, sliding manicured hands over the glass top. “Hurry it up, though. We’ve got that meeting with non-donor donors soon.” She damn near winks, flashing her teeth, but her smile drops when she sees Amy’s serious face.

“About earlier,” she starts, hand holding her phone pressed tightly against her abdomen.

“The coffee thing?” Selina points a finger, “I gotta tell you, it’s a good thing Gary’s not a barista, because fuck me.” She nods to herself, “At least he can clean.”

She’s tapping one hand on the desk, and Amy can tell she’s discreetly trying to check the time on her watch.“

“Ma'am, I-” She sighs, moves her hand to her chest when she realises where it was, “My sister isn’t pregnant.”

Selina pulls a face, shrugs one shoulder. She chuckles (in some kind of careless way), and snorts, “Great. Good for her.”

“I am.”

The older woman’s eyes darken then, and she squints, nostrils flaring, “What?” With a breath, she swallows sharply and Amy immediately regrets telling her. Fuck.

“I’m pregnant, ma'am.” Her brows knit, and she’s so tempted to fold her arms so tight around herself. Her job was finally secure, and now she’s fucked it up.

“Jesus…” She’s calm for a moment, pacing back and forth in front of the desk, heels loud, making Amy want to run for the hills, “Fuck, Amy!”

Taken back by the exclamation, the blonde sighs, moving one hand out to hold up a finger. “It’s fine, though. I’m not… going to let this get in the way of my work-” she tries to reason, finds herself cut off.

“Damn fucking right you’re not!” Selina shrieks, grits her teeth with a pissed-off look on her face. “For fuck’s sake, Ame.”

She shakes her head, approaches Amy with wide eyes, the sound of her bracelet clanking against her watch unsettling her campaign manager, “Who’s the daddy, huh? It better not be that fucking tall drink of hick piss you were screwing in Nevada.”

She wants to correct her pronunciation (again), wants to shudder at the memory of Buddy.

“I’m not having that twangy stick insect tagging along on my campaign trail, Ame.”

“It’s not Buddy, ma'am.”

“Good. Then I don’t give a shit whose it is.” She shrugs (again), and Amy almost wants to just blurt it out anyway.

“I’m perfectly healthy. My doctor says-”

“Great.” Selina’s rounded her desk again, picking up her iPad, continuously swiping left on the screen. “As long as you’re alive, and able to work, I’m happy for you? Should I be happy? Or should I be sending a car to take you to the nearest abortion clinic?”

“No.” Oh, God. “No, I’m keeping it. I want it.”

Does she, really, truly? Probably.

“Well, I don’t know why you would. I mean, you’ve seen how Catherine turned out, right?” She waves a hand over to her bookshelf where the smallest picture of Catherine sits, framed. Her eyes widen even more (if at all possible), “And you’re not exactly the best with kids, Ame.”

Thanks for the reminder.

“I know, ma'am.”

As she talks, her face is downcast to her phone and she hasn’t noticed the calculating look on her boss’ own face. “It’s not fucking Leon’s, is it?”

“No.” Amy almost feels actual puke rise to the surface at the sheer thought of that, of fucking Leon West and having his baby, “Fuck no.”

“Good. Having just one of those hairy scrotum sacks on legs is bad enough, we don’t need another one trailing after you, too.”

He does work for her now, though. He is better at his job than Mike, though Amy has really found herself missing him, as of late. He’d been with her since the start, before Dan wormed his way in, before Ben joined Team Meyer, before Kent hopped on the bandwagon for the statistics of it all. Fuck, he’d been around before Sue.

Amy ponders, fakes a smile. Doesn’t she want to know who did the deed, though?

“You can go now.”

Fine, then. Taking Selina’s direction, Amy spins back around on her heels, eyes closing momentarily as she licks her lips, breath held between tight lungs.

Fuck this. Fuck everything.

“Try to not get knocked up even more, Ame. I don’t wanna have to call your parents and tell them their little girl’s got herself into trouble.”

She can tell Selina’s teasing her, and honestly just… fuck this.

“She knows.”

“Yeah? You tell her?”

“No, she fucking sensed it via the magic of female intuition.”

Fuck him and his fucking incompetence. Maybe she should have told Selina before she told him. Maybe Selina would have had him assassinated in his sleep or some shit.

Dan nods, stabs his fork into his unfinished salad and leans back in his seat, “Does she know it’s mine?”

Amy groans at that, lets her head drop into her hands, all rough knuckles and tightly wound shoulders. “Can you not say that out loud, for fuck’s sake?” Her hair falls straight, almost falls in her lunch.

Rolling his eyes, Dan takes a sip of his water, toys with the straw as he reaches over and steals a cherry tomato from her dish, brushing her hair to the side. Why the fuck is it so long?

“Gonna have to face it one day.” He shrugs, and, looking back up, she’s annoyed to find him grinning.

They’ve got to be back at work – Selina’s office, for now – soon, guns blazing, ready to go, all prepped for their strategy meeting with Selina.

Granted, Dan is only there as a consultant but he’s him so of course he’s going to be having more of an opinion than anybody else in the room. Because he’s loud and an asshole and he likes his genius ideas to be heard. (It wasn’t genius when he suggested they forego the condom.)

Selina 4.0, anybody? She can only imagine.

“How the fuck does Richard know, by the way? What, did you have book your next checkup or so something?”

She lifts her gaze then, eyes him with a heavy breath, “I don’t fucking know. He’s weird with that kind of shit.”

“I’m surprised Kent hasn’t figured it out yet, being a fuckin’ doula and all.” Dan lifts a brow pointedly. “He’d probably start polling voters.”

“Targeting working single mothers?” She laughs, eyes a slice of carrot in his dish, picks it up with her fork, “The numbers are through the roof.” She holds up a hand, rubs two fingers together, “Staggering.”

Dan smirks, leans back over to look directly at her, brown eyes clear, “This was unforeseeable. This I did not see.”

“Astonishing, really. If my face could show emotion, this would be astonishment.” Her face is as blank, expressionless as it could possibly be, and Dan chuckles. “The voters are loving this pregnancy.”

“This foetus is working wonders for you, ma'am. Miracles, really.” He waves both hands about, watches as she crinkles her nose, “Add this to Tibet, and Montez will be out of office in no time.”

“Imagine Ben’s face.”

“He’ll drop that big fat fucking mug.”

“Spill his cocaine juice all over Selina’s carpet.”

“Probably have another heart attack.”

“Won’t die, though, much to his disappointment.” Dan adds, pulling his wallet from his pocket, picks up the bill. “Jesus, he’s gonna outlive us all.”

“Maybe I should get some of whatever the fuck he’s been drinking all these years.” She brushes hair behind her ear, looks down with a furrowed brows, “Maybe the little fucker will grow quicker and my body will be free of him.”

“Him?”

“I don’t know.” She looks up at Dan with a frown, “Doesn’t matter.”

He licks his lips, stands with both hands on his hips, waiting for her to finish the green tea she’s taking the smallest possible sips of. “Jesus, Amy.”

“Hold the fuck on.” She finishes the drink, stands with one hand on the table, pulling her coat off the back of her chair. He doesn’t help her, and she’s grateful.

Be yourself, doucheface. Don’t try all that chivalrous shit, it doesn’t suit you. Nobody would buy into that.

He does hold the door open for her, but that’s not a first. She’s always been quite proud of the fact that she’s the only person he’s done little things for over the years, seemingly without trying or forcing himself to.

When she’s left the restaurant a couple of steps before him, he’s already catching up to her, right beside her, hand on her elbow. Oh, not that.

“I guess that means my balls are in your court now, Brookheimer.”

“So you’re just a ball-less egomaniacal prick?” She frowns, somehow manages to lift one brow and curl her lip but keep a careless expression, “Lucky me.”

“Oh, don’t act so disappointed, Ames.” He (barely) nudges her side (gently), feels the sharpness of her shoulder dig into him when she pushes back (a little), “You know you love it.”

“False.” Amy corrects him, “I loved it once, when I was drunk and your mediocre dick was just competent enough to get the job done.”

“Okay, first of all, you loved it twice, at least.” He smirks, leans closer with a lowered voice, lets her back away because they’ve stopped and they’re waiting for the light to turn green.

“Secondly, I don’t think getting you to come twice, at least, is me just 'getting the job done’.” He air-quotes the last bit, winks and keeps his face near, draws back when they can finally cross the road.

“I was drunk.” She’s too busy looking at her phone to give him her full attention.

“So was I. Doesn’t mean we have to lie about enjoying it.”

“Fine. But me enjoying that doesn’t mean I’m gonna enjoy carrying your spawn around for three quarters of a year.” She mumbles, “And anything was better than having to dirty-talk Buddy.”

Dan only shrugs, ignores that last bit because fuck that guy, “You’ll do great.”

Selina’s office is right around the corner, hence why their pace increases. She’s simultaneously enjoying this conversation yet eager to finish it.

Why couldn’t someone (anyone?) have joined them for lunch? Oh, right. Because they all ate earlier, while they both otherwise preoccupied. Those fuckers.

The way up to the offices isn’t too long, and Amy’s grateful that her office is lower down than the guys’ own consultation firm.

Her heels are small, but she can already tell this pregnancy is going to – despite how badly she’s going to fight it – take its toll on her, and hiking around town and travelling is gonna be a royal bitch, so at least her own office isn’t at the top of a fucking skyscraper.

The elevator is slow, though, and Amy definitely misses Mike now. He’s her work buddy, her elevator companion. And that’s weird.

“We need to tell her.”

There he goes, getting serious again. Amy wants to straddle him, strangle him. Either? Or? Both at once? One then the other? Maybe.

She’ll straddle him, and strangle him when he’s on the brink of release because he’s a dick and his dick doesn’t take that much work to get going.

“When I’m ready.”

“I get that, okay?” He’s looking down at her, dickface in full swing, looking like his motherfucking usual self, “But it’s also my ki-”

“Don’t even fucking finish that sentence.” She warns, turning to face him, looking up at his face, “Seriously.”

“What, are you gonna fucking cut my dick off? A little late for that, Ames.” He boasts, whipping his neck back around as the doors slide open. “Besides, you’re gonna need it.”

“I’m gonna need what? Your thin fucking veiny dick?” She wants to laugh, “Oh, go on, tell me why.”

“It’s a thing, okay?” Dan huffs, steps out of the elevator, hands in his coat pockets, tilts his head to the side as his voice lowers and she steps into line beside him. “Expectant mothers develop a serious sexual fuckin’ appetite. It’s not my fault you’re gonna be begging for it, on your knees and shit.”

“On my knees?” She finds that part a little hard to believe, a little too hopeful on his end. That’s some serious wishful thinking, Danny.

“Yeah.” He’s half a mind to tell her that she’s gonna be such a horny bitch, but he refrains (much to his own ennui), “Much to my contentment.”

Amy pulls a face, “Well, technically, that would be your fault, you fucking cancer.” She grunts, undoes the first couple buttons of her coat as they near the meeting room, “Wait- did you fucking read up on this?”

His shoulders rise and lower so quickly that she almost misses it, “It’s not like I bought a fuckin’ book, that shit’s all over the internet. D'you know how many forums there are of pregnant women complaining about sore tits and stuff? Fuck!”

“Trust you to only pay attention to anything that involves sex, or anything for your own personal gain.”

“It’s for your gain, too.” He reasons, “I’m not the one who’s gonna be knocking on your door in the middle in the night because I need a good fuck.”

She rolls her eyes, pushes on the door to the office, slips her coat off and places it over the back of a chair. “You’re gonna be so good at this, you know that?”

God, she wants to strangle him. So bad.

“Yeah, well, you’re not gonna find anybody else to fuck you now, babe.”

“So you’d pity-fuck me?”

He’s copying her move, tossing his coat over a seat, and then he’s leaning over the table, watching her rearrange some folders. “Don’t call it a pity-fuck, Ames. It’d be more of a stress relief kind of thing.”

“No, us having sex in the first place was stress relief. My job was in goddamn purgatory and you got fired, and that fucking data breach got brought up again.”

He grins, gives her that look she half-dreads, half-adores (unfortunately, sadly), “You know we’d both enjoy it. Again.”

“Dan, please. You would screw anything that had two working legs and a receptive vagina, so that’s not as much of a privilege as you’re making it sound.”

“Consider it an offering then. It’s not like there’s anything in it for me to gain.” He suggests, “That is a privilege.”

“You get to have sex.”

“Yeah, but there’s no, like, job opportunity gonna come out of it because there’s nothing you could give me that I don’t already have.” He (almost) wants to retract that last part, but instead he offers, “Besides, It’s good. And you know it’s good.”

“Woah, might want to watch yourself there, Dan,” she feigns fanning herself with one hand, “or you’ll get me pregnant again.” Her monotone voice teases him, blue eyes ice cold and lips drawing into the smallest of grins, but the gag ends when the office door has swung open and Selina is stood in the doorway.

Glasses pushed up her nose, she licks her lips and clicks her tongue, staring back and forth between them. Of fucking course, Gary is at her heels, halfway through peeling an orange, beaming like an utter lunatic.

“Ma'am-” Dan tries, turning to face her once he’s registered the look of sheer surprise on Amy’s face and he’s felt her presence. His eyes widen, and he holds up both hands, more boy than man, “It’s not-”

“You get her knocked up?”

Selina quips, tone condescending, stares him up and down as though she’s scanning him with her eyes.

And then she shoots Amy a look, scrunches up her face with a tilt of her head in Dan’s direction, brown hair barely moving an inch, “Really? This shit?” She throws back.

The blonde’s body has frozen and she can only nod, “Yes,” she breathes, “Yes.”

“Well,” Selina is walking between them then, slamming her file down on the varnished table, eyes focused on Amy’s forehead.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a campaign baby, folks.”

Shit.

#veep #dan x amy #dan egan #amy brookheimer #juliaslouisdreyfus #dannyegan #veep fic #fic*#ship: dan x amy #ch: amy brookheimer #ch: dan egan #tv: veep #iaa*#[almost 6k words for your delectation... enjoy fuckers!]#[watch there still be errors because fml]

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thestraggletag · 7 years

Text

Sleeping Arrangements, a Rumbelle Fic

Rating: PG

Summary: Royce Gold finds himself suffering from sleep-deprivation following the departure of his son to college. Finding that his fear of abandonment is keeping him from a restful night of sleep he seeks out a fellow insomniac to share a bed with. Nothing romantic or complicated, merely a mutually-beneficial arrangement.

Strictly platonic, or so he tells himself. Over and over.

Based on this prompt because none of you meanies wrote it for me.

After Zelena Greene he'd given up on the whole idea, or so he'd thought. Insomnia might be deeply unpleasant, but it didn't come close to crazy redheads with abandonment issues and elbows like arrowheads. He had considered briefly going back to Hopper's office and making a weekly appointment, like the good doctor had suggested. Though timid he was competent enough... he'd certainly hit the nail on the head when it came to diagnosing the origin of his sleeplessness. Even though he prided himself on being observant it had completely escaped him that his restless nights had started roughly around the time Neal had gone off to college. And he certainly hadn't realised that he'd never lived alone. He'd gone from his papa's unloving arms to the warm home of his ants and from there to a dingy one-bedroom flat with Milah and later a spacious, sprawling Queen Anne, which he'd shared with his son when Milah up and left them. Left them like his father had, or his mother before him. Left him like Cora did afterwards, after a brief affair that did everything to advance her own agenda and little to make him feel wanted and loved.

So it was natural, Hopper said, to feel Neal's absence as his son abandoning him, even though on a rational, conscious level he knew it not to be true. And though at first Royce had refuted the idea- how dare Hopper blame his son- after a while he recalled suffering from insomnia as a child, right after his father had dumped him on his aunts's modest house in the middle of the night, while he'd still been asleep. The notion that it would happen again, that he'd close his eyes and be left alone again, terrified him. He'd been convinced that if he slept his aunts would be gone when he woke up so he didn't. Eventually they'd realised and to reassure him they took turns sleeping with him on his bed till he'd left the fear of abandonment behind. Or so he'd thought.

Hopper had been ecstatic after such a break through and, at first, so had Gold. Until the psychiatrist mentioned weekly appointments, a "long and arduous journey" and some nonsense about confronting his demons. Royce had no intention of opening the Pandora Box he'd carefully constructed inside his mind, not by a long shot. Reviving his childhood trauma appealed to him as much as taking a bath in acid. He'd attempted to have Hopper prescribe sleeping pills instead. Anything over the counter was a waste of time, as he'd found out the hard way, but surely hard drugs would do the trick. The good doctor, however, would not comply. Not even after a thin-veiled threat to raise his rent had made him cough up the necessary prescription.

With no other recourse he'd done some research on the Internet. After wading through a mountain of unhelpful-and in some instances incredibly unpleasant- information he'd found a forum for people suffering from insomnia because, like himself, they weren't used to sleeping alone. There he'd found a thread about an app called Bedbuds- he cringed at the rather unpleasant play on words- which worked as a dating app but instead of romantic partners it paired up sleeping partners, as in, people who wanted to literally sleep together. It seemed to be very popular with people with anxiety, people who'd moved far away from home, introverts and the like and to many people with insomnia, apparently, it worked like a charm. Reluctantly he set up a profile for himself, answering questions as innocuous as his height and weight and some others much more intrusive. In the end there had been very few people the app had found living near his area and, after much debate, he'd finally decided to take the plunge and match himself with "Greenie", a woman in her thirties living in a nearby town forty-five minutes away.

It had been an unmitigated disaster. Zelena Green was a nightmare. Chatty and brash, with a strident, nails-on-chalkboard laugh and no respect for personal space. She wore make-up to sleep, even though she made a show of pretending to wash it off in the bathroom every night, an array of dominatrix-style nighties in horrible shades of green and had elbows that could cut glass. She was all hard planes and painful angles, unpleasant to cuddle with or even lay next to- she drenched herself in perfume too, the kind that made his nose itch- and after a week he called it quits. Zelena didn't take it well, at all, and so he'd changed his phone number and had carefully threatened her to leave him alone. He'd sent Dove to do that. The man looked like the worst kind of thug, the sort that lugged dead bodies in the dead of the night without batting an eye. In reality he was depressingly soft-hearted and sensible, utterly incapable of hurting a fly. Thankfully no one would know by looking at him.

After that unpleasant experience he'd dismissed the idea altogether and had gone to a psychiatrist in Boston more than willing to prescribe him something for his problem. And though he slept, he didn't rest. He felt sluggish in the mornings, irritable and dazed. The medication gave left him nauseous most of the morning, reducing his breakfast to a simple cup of tea and some dry toast. He lasted a month like that before he flushed the pills down the drain. At Dove's behest he tried homeopathic medicine but, though a much more pleasant medicine, it had little to no effect.

It was when he found himself considering going back to Hopper's office and passive-aggressively taking his suggestion that he remembered Bedbuds. Though Zelena had been an unmitigated disaster Royce acknowledged that the idea itself appealed to him the most out of everything he'd tried. He'd hated most of what came with being married to Milah but it had been wonderful to cuddle up to her at night, to lose himself in the embrace of another. Besides there was little he wouldn't do to keep himself from sitting in front of the ever-jumpy Hopper and spilling his guts about his uncaring parents and his failed love-life.

There was a new profile in his area. Someone in Storybrooke in fact. A young woman in her early thirties, a bit shorter than him who preferred the opposite side of the bed, loved to read and watch period dramas and like soft, plush beds. A spinster in the making, it sounded, but it didn't much matter. Not willing to waste time or talk himself out of it he arranged for a public meeting at the local park, taking the precaution to ask Dove to linger nearby in case there was any need. Dove loved feeding the ducks anyway.

He'd expected a mousy brunette with a skirt past her knees and a demure cardigan. Belle French was indeed a brunette, though her hair was glossy and had a red tint to it when the light hit it at just the right angle, and when he met her she was indeed wearing a skirt and a cardigan. But the skirt, a lovely tweet flare number very expensive-looking, was just shy of indecent and the open tweed blazer she'd paired it up with was offset by a sheer floral blouse, making her look both prim and risque. And she was lovely, from an entirely objective point of view. Her body had pleasing, gentle curves, and her features were delicate, almost elfin. None of it mattered, though he imagined it was better that he not find his potential bed mate too scary to look at.

Remembering his past experience with Zelena he gave short, perfunctory answers to Miss French's questions and made it clear that all he was interested at the moment was a one-time trial run. Thankfully she seemed to consider it a great idea and so they made arrangements for Thursday night. He let Dove know, just in case, and made sure to have the linens changed and a fresh set of pyjamas ready. Miss French was refreshingly punctual and indulged in a bit of small talk and a glass of wine before suggesting they retire for the night. He gave her free use of a guest bathroom and was pleased to notice when she met him in his room that she had scrubbed her face free of make-up- though with a complexion like hers no woman would mind going bare-faced- and had donned an old college t-shirt- Columbia, he was dully impressed- and some comfortable shorts.

It was stiff at first, sharing a bed with her, a virtual stranger. Zelena had all but pounced on him the moment she delved under the sheets but Miss French kept to her side of the bed, looking at him in an open, welcoming way. As if she'd sensed his misgivings and his naturally prickly exterior and was waiting him out, allowing him to set the pace. He thought at first to simply stay on his side but he didn't particularly feel the reassurance he was supposed to be feeling. In the end he scooted closer to the middle and slowly, so slowly, he snaked an arm around her waist. Miss French- Belle- smiled and turned around, scooting back till her back was pressing against his front. And it was... wonderful. She was soft in all the right places, sweet-smelling and warm, so warm. His arm tightened around her, his legs seeking to tangle with hers, to bask in the abundance of human contact. She was lose and pliant in his arms, no hint of tension or revulsion, not an ounce of rejection to be felt. She wiggled slightly and when she was finally fitted perfectly in his arms made a low, humming sound of satisfaction that he echoed, moving his head to be able to bury his nose in her hair. Gradually he found himself matching his breathing to hers, feeling his entire body slowly relax as his mind cleared and his eyes closed of their own accord.

He woke up to the sound of Love of my Life coming from Belle's cellphone. Unwillingly he cracked his eyes open, taking stock of his limbs. Sometime during the night they'd shifted positions, with Belle moving to lie on her back, her body curved slightly towards Royce. His head was resting gently on her chest, one hand flung over her waist to keep her there. Both her arms were cradling him close, the perfect sort of morning cuddle to start the day. Belle was as good a pillow as she was a teddy bear and, since she made no motion to push him away, he allowed himself to linger a few minutes on top of her, enjoying the way she absent-minded combed the ends of his long hair.

With great reluctance he disentangled himself from her, his loose limbs barely cooperating as he made his way to the bathroom. His overworked body was demanding more sleep, nowhere near caught up, but he had a busy day ahead of him and so did Belle, he imagined. By the time he was fully dressed so was she, donning jogging pants and an old Ziggy Stardust t-shirt. A woman wearing yesterday's clothes and walking home early in the morning was bound to make people suspicious, but a woman on her way home from a morning run in the woods was perfectly respectable.

"This was lovely, Mr Gold. Best sleep I've had in months."

He envied her casual, easy attitude. Even though they'd spent a lovely night together in bed he found himself awkward and shy outside it.

"Yes, indeed. Have a good day, Miss French."

He smile dimmed a bit, her eyes loosing a bit of their lovely shine, but she said her good-byes politely and stepped out into the backyard, peaking from the fence door to make sure no one was about. He stayed inside the house, struggling to make himself talk, to take action.

"And perhaps we can do this again on Sunday?"

She turned around, her lips curling into a relieved, radiant smile.

"I'd like that very much. See you Sunday, Mr Gold."

She darted out, trotting in the direction of the forest trail before he could tell her to call him Royce.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #Thestraggletag fanfiction #sleeping arrangements

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glassesofroses · 7 years

Text

Chapter 3 // Picturesque

| Yo this is Max, Abbie's boyfriend, smokin' hot and totally a babe inside and out |

Warnings : Foreshadowing, terrible writing

Word Count : 2077

| Monday, 28th | Day 2

"Jocelyn? Joss? DOCTOR JOCELYN YOUNG!" Abbie yelled, trying to get her best friends attention and ask as to why the hell she was still in their apartment instead of at school teaching her class.

Jocelyn shot up, inherently waking Reid up at the same time.

"What time is it?" She groggily asked, standing up quickly and getting a head rush, almost falling over on the couch.

"It's 5 to 7:45, you have 5 minutes to get ready and get to school," Abbie sighed, checking her watch before watching her friend sprint into her room and come out in 30 seconds flat in a whole new wardrobe.

"Coffee's done right?" She asked before filling the brown water into her canister and chugging the scalding hot liquid, not even realizing that it was burning her tongue.

"Dammit, dammit," She mumbled, throwing everything together in her backpack and flinging it over her shoulders, grabbing her keys and running out the door in under 5 minutes.

"I'm sorry, what's going on?" Spencer asked, his voice husky from just waking up.

"Morning Doctor, I'm Abbie Smith, the most basic name ever, but I am not a basic person. If you hurt her in any way I will find you and I will kill you. Doctor Jocelyn Young is going to be late for school for the first time I've moved in with her because of you," She smirked, handing him a cup of coffee.

"Did you just quote Taken?" He mumbled ignoring half of what she said and gladly taking a sip of his hot drink.

"The more you hang around me the more you'll realize that I quote every movie in almost every sentence I speak," Abbie told him, smiling at her boyfriend who entered the room, giving Spencer a weird yet kind look.

"What's up man, I'm Max," Nodding his head in Spencer's direction before reaching for a banana.

"Doctor Spencer Reid," Nodding back, getting 'hip' with the person who could most likely beat him up the easiest.

"So you and miss Jocelyn had a date last night?" Max asked, wiggling his eyebrows, getting a blush from the younger man of only 2 years.

"It was just friendly pizza and catching up," He stuttered, placing his empty mug on a nearby coaster.

"It was definitely not just friendly pizza, you two were so into grading and emailing you didn't even hear us come in the apartment," Abbie laughed, turning her head to look at his face turn redder.

"I guess I should be going," Spencer stood up, grabbing his coat and started to make his way out until Max stopped him.

"She went through some tough shit a while ago, take care of her okay?" He asked softly, true caring in his eyes.

Spencer only nodded his head before Max let go of him and he walked out the door to his job a the BAU, awaiting the jokes that were to arise from his coworkers.

"Reid, are you wearing the same clothes from yesterday?" Hotch asked with a sly smirk on his face, shuffling some papers as Reid stepped into the room.

"I guess so, must have fallen asleep while working," He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but really his face was as bright as a tomato.

"Don't do it again," Hotch scolded, though in no way was he actually mad at Spencer.

Spence nodded his head and sat at his desk, diving right into his work.

"I think Spence scored last night," JJ whispered to Morgan and the others.

"With who?" Morgan laughed, not expecting Spencer to just have a date on any Sunday night, even though he did say that he had a date.

"I don't know, possibly the girl that he had a coffee with in the morning yesterday," Emily gossiped, glancing over at Reid who was hard at work.

"Who'd Reid have a coffee with?" Penelope popped in, her presence making the BAU a happier place.

"She's just an old friend that he hadn't seen for 15 years so I made him stop in because he was too chicken to do it on his own."

"What was her name?" Penny asked, getting thoroughly intrigued with wanting to do some hard core creeping.

"Jocelyn Young, goes by Joss for short," Emily told them, the whole team never taking their eyes off of Spencer, making his hair on the back of his neck stand up at attention.

Penelope nodded before walking to her cave, sneakily shutting the door behind her. Since the team didn't have a case today, everyone was working on paperwork, but not her. Penelope didn't trust anyone she didn't know, especially when they were coming mysteriously back into her families life. So, after doing a good half an hour's work, her eyes lit up.

"Oh my god," She grinned, taking a laptop, sending the link to herself and ran out of her cave and towards Morgan whose eyes widened.

"Baby girl what's up?" He asked nervously, noticing how she was out of breath with a light layer of sweat appearing.

"I found her," She gasped, full of excitement and wonder.

"Found who?" Getting up from his chair so he could set her down and have her blood flow slow down to a healthy rate.

"Jocelyn Young, prodigy from Las Vegas, Nevada. Best friend our one and only Spencer Reid, went off the wall for a while, after high school she completed one degree and disappeared for two then completed 2 more degrees! She also apparently traveled the world for 2 years and two more degrees to make a total of 5. After that she appeared on Broadway as Elle on Legally Blonde, obviously trying out everything she can before settling down at Bethesda-Chevy Chase High School for two years now."

"Okay, 5 degrees, traveled, school teacher, Broadway? How'd you even find the Broadway part?" Morgan asked in disbelief.

"Oh honey, that was easiest part, Laura Bell Bundy took a tumble and then quit so then she took over for the next 3 years, here, here's a video," Penelope shoved the video towards him, getting the attention of everyone on the team except Hotch and Spencer.

youtube

Everyone gathered around the computer screen and Emily pointed out that it definitely was the girl that Reid was talking with earlier. For Spencer, it was too quiet, he turned around to find everyone looking at him or at a screen, and when they saw that he was looking back at them they all scattered back to their desks. He stood from his desk and walked over to Penelope and Morgan and looked at the screen to see his best friend on the screen, singing and dancing, something she never did in public, but this was a very public.

"Garcia, what is this?" Reid asked, almost to the point where he was angry but didn't have the full story.

Garcia whipped around to find Reid staring at the screen flooded with song and cheers and exotic noises coming from the speaker.

"Um, you know, just doing some...research on Broadway performances," She stuttered, obviously not counting on Reid to find their dirty secret of looking up Joss.

"Why?" He demanded, getting the angriest that anyone has seen him, this was his best friend and he wanted to know why they were looking her up.

"It was all Emily!" Penelope pointed towards Emily's desk who looked up in shock and embarrassment, "She mentioned that you had a date, told me who it was and I did some research because I didn't want you going out with serial killer or something," She trailed off, looking more guilty by the second.

Reid whipped around to find Emily leaving her desk and walking over to the ladies room, somewhere where he wouldn't be able to get to unless he wanted to anger every single woman in their office.

"What is this?" He demanded, grabbing the computer despite Penelope's protests.

"I just started searching her name, Jocelyn Young and I basically found out her whole life when she wasn't with you, where she was for 15 years. She also just so happened to appear as Elle for Legally Blonde on Broadway for 3 of those years," Following Reid hurriedly towards his desk and peered over his shoulder, impressed with her performance.

"It's on Youtube?" He mumbled, typing some things into the computer and coming up with a whole page on his best friend.

"You didn't know what she was doing? You didn't try to contact her?" Penelope asked, knowing how dependant he is on constant people in his life.

"I was 12 Garcia, I was still getting beat up and going through college, going through it as fast as I could. But I still tried contacting her parents but they said they didn't even know where she was, there was just a constant need of money on her part since she was doing something," He grunted, watching the video of her singing with such intensity, Penelope was sure that the screen would break from his stare.

"So you didn't see anything on the news or on newspapers about her being on Broadway?"

"I didn't even know she liked Broadway, I just knew she liked Beethoven like I did, that's what we connected on, along with being the only 12 year olds in 12th grade," Slamming the computer shut and shoving it into Garcia's arms and ripping open his work, diving in with such vigour everyone was sure that either his pencil would break or that the pencil would rip through the paper.

/ Earlier /

"Sorry I'm late everyone! With grading your papers and...sleeping in a little bit I lost track of time, but luckily your papers are graded with a little bit of help so when I call your names come up here and grab it. Don't expect to be happy with your papers, be happy their all above 50%," She smiled lightly at her students, just happy enough that they wouldn't be angry at her since they all knew what they were getting into, all wanting to be writers, english teachers, or do something with English/writing.

"Donovan!" She called out, handing the young man his paper and he grinned, 68/100.

"What do you mean you had a little bit of help?" One of her other students, Maddie, asked with a smirk on her face, they all knew that Joss was just a normal person so of course she had to have some sort of romantic life right?

The normal desks in the school were in single line form, a way of teaching that was brought in back in the late 1800's to get the students ready for working in a factory for way less than minimum wage. Her desks were in curved rows, all facing the desk where Joss sat on, teaching them from sitting on her desk with such excitement it got everyone else excited. They always noticed that she came in with coffee, a muffin, and a bag lunch that they knew her roommate made her every night since she had a lot of work to do.

"Maddie, I don't know if you want to get into this, the whole writing thing, but good job," Joss laughed, handing the girl her paper 84/100.

"We have to know now!" Someone shouted from the back, her face turning red.

"Oh my god, you had a date!" Maddie laughed, everyone being really nice to her, no one ever made fun of her like when she was in high school herself, it was a nice change of pace for her.

"That, my students, is none of your business," Rolling her eyes and sitting on her desk, her shoes natural falling off.

"You keep denying it, but the more you deny it the more we know that you had a date, now spill," Every single one of her students leaned forward in anticipation.

"If I tell you will you be quiet for the rest of class?" And without hesitation, all of her students nodded their heads, they all loved her stories from when she was traveling and loved that she thought they were cool enough to let them into her life.

#Spencer Reid #Matthew Gray Gubler #Criminal Minds #CBS #Picturesque #Spence #Sebastian Stan #Bucky Barnes #James Barnes #Winter Soldier #Marvel #MCU #coffeeandmistakes

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